#yes yes I know they’re archived let me have this

[thesilveregg]

Grian wiping his namemc history is the modern day equivalent to the burning of the library of Alexandria

[world0fmadness]

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ✩ ˚ MILK, NOT FOR VOMITING

lewis hamilton x old youtube icon! wife! reader x ( platonic! ) oc daughter

featuring: just a lot of domestic fluff and references to old youtube

faceclaim: assorted

୨୧ again, this is really inspired by how pewdiepie is living now… just so serene with his wife and baby boy, mainly uploads vlogs of his weeks, just living peaceful and happy <3 i know the title is stupid because babies do burp up milk but if you watched old maxmoefoe and stuff you get it! i don’t know if you can even make dual user posts on instagram but in this smau, you can! super special thank you to @misty-inferno for providing me with the pictures of lewis and roscoe and for helping me have the confidence to post this now :)

୨୧ related hc available here, here and here

lewishamilton and ynwiththecamera: surprise! baby hamilton ln coming soon 🍼 🧸 🕯 i will be coming back to youtube after baby boo is born to archive memories with them and document my journey with parenthood! i know that’s much different from the content i used to make but i’ve moved on and grown as a person, i’m sure you can all understand - love, yn and lewis

sebastianvettel ✔️: so excited for you two, you’ll make great parents ❤️ - sebastian

❤️ liked by ynwiththecamera and lewishamilton

> lewishamilton ✔️: thanks again sebastian!

lewynforever: ITS HAPPENING OH MY GOD ITS HAPPENING

> lewynforever: DILF LEWIS AND MILF YN IS HAPPENINGGGG

maxmoefoe ✔️: first word has to be “chef” or you’ve got to bin it

❤️ liked by ynwiththecamera and joji

> ynwiththecamera ✔️: yes chef!

lewisontop: they already have a nursery set up this early on? oh that’s how you know they’re rich rich…

> lewynforever: or they just wanted to get it over and done with and have the means to do so?

joji: congratulations yn! you’ll make an amazing mother ❤️

❤️ liked by ynwiththecamera and lewishamilton

> cancercrewforever: he’s actually not wrong, whenever him, max or ian used to get a really bad cut or something she’d kind of fret over them before mocking them 😭

lewynforever: the mini f1 car oh my goood 💔

> lewishammy: i wonder who got it for them 🥹

> georgerussell ✔️: 🙋🏻‍♂️ had to secure my place as favourite uncle quick, there’s too much… competition… if you can even call it that

❤️ liked by ynwiththecamera

> charlesleclerc ✔️: 🤨

> maxverstappen ✔️: 🤨

> fernandoalonso ✔️: 🤨

> ilovef1: oh he’s so proud of that gift lmao

> oldf1lover: george is so competitive when it comes to stuff like this, it kills me 😭

loveyouyn: YN LN RETURNS TO YOUTUBE LETS GOOO

ynwiththecamera and lewishamilton: bump progression and finally, the arrival 🤍 winnie hamilton ln

maxverstappen ✔️: congratulations guys! can’t wait to meet her

❤️ liked by ynwiththecamera and lewishamilton

lewynforever: GIRL DAD LEWIS GIRL DAD LEWIS

dilflewishamilton: i don’t know if my heart is ready for girl dad lewis content

georgerussell ✔️: coming over as soon as i can, i need to meet my niece and she needs to meet her favourite uncle

❤️ liked by ynwiththecamera and lewishamilton

> charlesleclerc ✔️: 🤨

> maxverstappen ✔️: 🤨

> fernandoalonso ✔️: 🤨

lewisontop: WINNIE 😭 SO CUTE

sebastianvettel ✔️: congratulations on the baby girl you guys! good luck ❤️ - sebastian

❤️ liked by ynwiththecamera and lewishamilton

> lewynforever: “ good luck ” 😭

> ynwiththecamera ✔️: thanks a bunch for the gifts and well wishes sebastian!

lewisontop: the little slippers… i just felt my heart explode…

lewishamilton uploaded to his story!

ynwiththecamera: new vlog out today! it mainly focuses on how me and lewis are adjusting in the early months of new parenthood, watch here👩‍🍼 🤍 🥞

lewynforever: of COURSE their baby is decked out in designer and jewellery 😭

lewishamilton ✔️: love my girls so much ❤️

liked by ynwiththecamera

> dilflewishamilton: ARGHHH MY HEART CANT TAKE THIS

> dilflewishamilton: ITS JUST TOO DOMESTIC

> dilflewishamilton: AND SO CUTE

maxverstappen ✔️: judging by the bags under lewis’ eyes and the smile on his face everytime i see him, i’d say you two are adjusting well!

> lewishamilton ✔️: thank you very much max…

loveyouyn: this baby’s wardrobe is probably worth more than my apartment… i don’t even know how to feel about that

georgerussell ✔️: i spy with my little eye the necklace i got winnie ON winnie!

❤️ liked by ynwiththecamera and lewishamilton

> lewishamilton ✔️: she loves it, thanks mate

> maxverstappen ✔️: yeah well i spy with MY little eye the shoes i got her!

> georgerussell ✔️: shoes are shit, necklace is better 😗

> lewynforever: they’re having a mid off 😭

lewishamilton: beach and boat day with my girls 🏝

lewishammy: yn is one lucky woman, holy moly

❤️ liked by ynwiththecamera

georgerussell ✔️: did little winnie collect those shells?

> lewishamilton ✔️: yeah, we’re thinking about getting some of them made into necklaces

> georgerussell ✔️: i hope i’ll be getting one, considering i’m her favourite uncle

❤️ liked by ynwiththecamera and lewishamilton

> charlesleclerc ✔️: and where have you heard that exactly?

> georgerussell ✔️: winnie told me herself!

> charlesleclerc ✔️: she can’t even say words aside from “mama” and “papa” yet, idiot

> charlesleclerc ✔️: and even if she could talk full sentences, everyone knows i’m her favourite

> oldf1lover: HES GOING TO GET NECKLACES MADE OUT OF THE SHELLS HIS BABY GIRL FOUND ON THE BEACH SHUT UPPPP HOW IS THIS MAN SO PERFECT

> lewynforever: this confirms my theory that lewis is the type of dad to keep EVERYTHING his baby ever gives him… rock from the driveway? thank you! piece of paper? absolutely! leaf from a tree in the garden? so thoughtful!

charlesleclerc ✔️: did she not get seasick on the boat?

> lewishamilton ✔️: my girl? get a grip! you guys might be a bunch of wusses but not my winnie

> ynwiththecamera ✔️: yes… she did… all over lewis’ shirt

❤️ liked by charlesleclerc

> lewishamilton ✔️: i was trying to spare her the embarrassment of people knowing, love!

> ynwiththecamera ✔️: lew… she’s a baby, she doesn’t even know what embarrassment is yet ❤️

ilovef1: lewis hamilton the dilf that you are…

❤️ liked by ynwiththecamera

> lewishammy: lmao i see you yn, liking every thirst comment, you love your man, good for you girl

landonorris ✔️: was that fourth picture necessary sir hamilton?

lewishamilton ✔️: what’s wrong with it?

landonorris ✔️: ASS CHEEK 😟 you’re parents now, can’t post stuff like that now can you?

> lewishamilton ✔️: who’s let you out of the daycare pen then?

ynwithethecamera: me and lewis took winnie and roscoe to a slaughter rescue farm this week! watch the vlog here 🐑 👒 🦙

lewishamilton ✔️: one of my favourite trips we’ve taken with her so far ❤️

loveyouyn: her vlogs literally make my month…

> lewishammy: same 😭 they’re so domestic and cute!

ilovef1: is this the one they donated a bunch of money to?

dilflewishamilton: more winnie content </3 my heart can’t take it

> lewynforever: her little hat 🥹

f1forlife: i need to STOP watching these vlogs because they give me the worst baby fever ever…

> lewishammy: for real 😭 and because they come out every two weeks it’s like as soon as i manage to shake the baby fever, she uploads another domestic vlog with lewis being the dream husband and father and boom, baby fever is back and stronger than ever

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨୧ ˚ NEW ADDED BONUS ˚ ୨୧ ⋆｡˚ ⋆

my head hurts so unfortunately, no actual added bonus for this one… except a gif of maxmoefoe <3 thanks for reading!

[ohnopeh]

i was rewatching gallavich scenes (no one’s surprised) and to be honest, i think the whole monogamy thing is pretty clear from the beginning ( to us, cause they’re dumb )

neither of them want the other to fuck other people but they share one braincell thinking the other wants to mess around. ian talks about monogamy saying its about not having sex with others and mickey expression changes

he’s clearly panicking wondering if ian mentioned it because his husband wants to fuck around. he doesn’t want to lose ian and is afraid that saying yes to monogamy could be a deal breaker (im pretty sure mickey was feeling insecure as fuck about not being a good husband since they fought about the money, job etc.)

when ian sees mickey’s reaction, he mistakes it as disappointment/disagreement with being monogamous. you can totally see he’s regretting mentioning it and wondering how the hell he’s going to get out of that situation.

he’s like ‘what the fuck what is this reaction what is going on why isn’t he saying he wants to have sex with me only?’ (cause again, one braincell shared)

so they’re just dumb fuckers who want the other to be happy but they just confuse each other, not realising they want the same thing. mickey asks ian what exactly is counted as having sex : blowjobs, proper fucking? because he wants to know what ian would want from others and if he can handle that, but of course ian thinks that’s mickey asking because he is the one who wants to fuck around!

none of them want to just disappoint the other so mickey plays it cool saying ‘you don’t want to fuck other people?!’ (reminds me of ‘you don’t want to fuck angie? everybody fucks angie’) and of course ian’s defensive too saying ‘me fucking you only? no… so difficult… no… i could never… not like ive been doing so for 10 years… going back to you all the time… saying sex with you is fucking fantastic… no….’

but then ian says

that’s his way of trying to let mickey know he’s actually not into the whole open relationship thing. but considering they just keep saying they want to do it, mickey simply thinks ian is being hypocrite, not being able to see what he truly meant by that. when ian writes down that he wants monogamy, he’s being honest and i suppose he kept on thinking mickey wanted to fuck around cause he didn’t show his answer (which was mickey’s way of trying to do what ian wanted cause he always want ian to be happy and will do anything for him)

they just keep being dumb as hell until the episode where they have sex with other people. you can see mickey has realised ian isn’t into it but doesn’t want to admit it, to keep mickey happy— because mickey is taking the piss out of ian by pretending he’s having the time of his life trying to find new friends to fuck around with.

( again, ian is forcing them to find gay friends just because he thinks that’s what they’re supposed to do to archive their new happy life )

mickey staying with the other gay couples for drinks he doesn’t like, company he dislikes. he waits for ian to call it a night and even then he took the piss out of ian asking if he really wanted to leave. they end up having sex with the others but once they’re home ian says it was a waste of time and mickey points out they did want ian wanted so badly, making gay friends and having sex with other people. so how is that a waste of time if ian wanted this all along?

mickey asks

(are you still going to pretend we want to fuck other people?) and ian admits that, no, he doesn’t want that. he doesn’t want gay friends to talk about their sex life or friends to bang just because. explaining he’s okay to have lip ( and mickey ) as their only friends cause they’re alike and that’s what he needs. he doesn’t have to force himself to be different or fit somewhere.

i know people also discuss the scene where ian is at the gym in their new apartment, where he smiles at the guy flirting with him. to me that scene was just ian being taken by surprise ( as he didn’t really expect the guy to hear him ) and maybe even glad that there are gay and accepting people around them (not like southside) so it only proved more and more that their life in the north side could do good to mickey too. it makes sense because in the same episode mickey freaks out about the new place, it shows how they react to changes and ‘safeness’ as mickey says it makes him feel uncomfortable to have a better life, something new that he has no control over (like him saying he has no idea how to escape safely from the northside/their new house— if needed)

long story short : they are dumb and always want the other to be happy but scared to communicate properly and mess things up. they only want each other in all the way and that’s what it is and will be forever! shameless writers for s10-11 were something else tho, im sure there were better ways to write this plot but still lol

[astropookie]

Mars/mars pc astro observations bc yes

jjk

*birth chart + tropical

I’ve noticed you can spend more time with people who have the same sign mars as you or you can feel more comfortable, daah.

mars trine saturn are so fucking loyal to what they’re archiving, they take their time, they could be fucked up on following other things but when they have something in mind, they’ll do it.

scorpio mars could be synonym of transformation, sadly this people could have had a special person in their life who was going through a rough time and they were by their side, scorpio mars not knowing what to do with all that amount of energy, feeling guilty and desperate. they could have been used to an anxious environment.

aquarius mars stop being so concerned and furious when you don’t understand others behavior, not everything is logic. I get it, you’re aware of how people act and how things work but that doesn’t mean you have to act like that to feel accepted -don’t take this seriously-. also, you look cute when you’re feeling yourself💋🎀

6H mars ik it’s daily for you, being mad and everyone noticing but you, or you’re not mad and everyone thinks you are? don’t get mad if I don’t left something you let me in the same way you gave it to me!! -exaggeratedly-. Don’t get mad if we’re not as organized as you!! don’t put your energy on those things, being mad on little details

mars at 5°, 17° or 29° (leo degree) STOP WITH THE PRIDEFUL ATTITUDE, you can’t even apologize wisely

mars at 9° or 21° (sagittarius degree) YOU CAN’T TAKE THINGS SERIOUSLY when they’re confronting your unserious attitude or EVER. you look like a little kid trying to scape, STOP. “You thought..”, then look at the consequences. too chill for my patience. -thinking of someone while typing-

3H mars why do they have to have the same taste in music as you so you’ll immediately find them attractive? or them having the same interests as you -same favorite movie, series, etc-. also they could be dorks 🤓☝️

mars opposition jupiter makes people who have this aspect feeling they’re stuck on their process of their goal/dream, they could feel they’re constantly in the process and not identifying their progress or the positive aspects. they could feel really insecure/have a low self stem, comparing themselves with others. they could be seem as too idealistic.

when you’re mad with libra mars they can have a “I did nothing incorrect/wrong” attitude, they could even ask “when did I did that? Prove it”, like you remember every detail like them 😒

8H mars are MOODY, they have to do what they want and often base their decisions on how they feel. they don’t force things, they do how they feel. when they were children, they could have been seen as aggressive or unstoppable? unpredictable

sun square mars screams issues with your dad or the opinion of your dad and how he does things has/have had a lot of impact on your life and identity, way of proceeding. impulsive and gets excited like a kid when you give them a candy, oh but when you take it away…RUN.

as a mars at 10° or 22° (capricorn degree), yes I feel the need to be in charge -boss around-, I’m learning to not want/understand I don’t have to be in control every fucking time 😏 In every aspect. 

I’m still thinking virgo mars is the most resentful of all of them. they’ll do ANYTHING to protect their loved ones, they do everything they can to try to understand them, they’re so DEDICATED. it’s an honor to be one of their few special persons.

mars at 3°, 15° or 27° (gemini degree) LOVES, NEEDS to receive affirmations about how good they’re, in bed. a “I love your ass” will be a motivation to do more things…again, if it’s not in bed, they need to know how they’re doing things, they need communication to feel secure or that they’re doing it good.

mars persona chart*

gemini 5H in mars persona chart indicates is fucking hilarious/fun for you to tease people. how, when and what you talk, you do it on purpose, to see how far someone patience can last or to analyze their reactions. in every aspect. you can have a way with words that helps you to initiate things easily in bed.

cancer 6H in mars pc can mean you have to feel you like the sport you’re about to do to actually have motivation and be constant with it. for example, I started going to gym bc a friend was practically asking every day if I could be her gym partner, I didn’t want to and when I finally went was bc principally she was gonna be there, I emphasize with her and had to do something for my mental health -everyone was mentioning I had to-, not bc I like to do sport? Or going to the gym? I like how I’m feeling?😭 idk how to explain it.

aries venus in mars pc yes we know people who are horny makes you horny. you love how focused are on their life and how much they think on what they can do next, that they’re not wasting their time. it makes you wet 😝 that they get mad over little things and that they’re direct and a little idiots to process things.

taurus mercury in mars pc are so possessive, they want to know if you’re about to come and to affirm it, to tell them they made you feel so good to then choke you. they want proves on how good they’re doing it and how they can be better.

cancer mars in mars pc can be turned on whatever has to do with a mother figure 😭 or what’s seen as feminine? But more on a mother way. for example, if someone is taking care of them unconditionally and has this cancer aspect -big boobs, round face, innocent eyes- they’ll imagine being taken care in another way later

mars-uranus aspects in mars pc is attracted/turned on to people who are rejected by society, someone who is seemed as rebel or does change. not necessarily they have to be part of a social movement but since little details. for example, what’s rejected by conservative people, piercings 😝 an unique way of standing for themselves, etc.

neptune 1H in mars pc: you feel yourself with the unexpected. you even get horny?😭 your personality could be even unexpected.

♡ Based on personal experience and what I’ve analyzed in my surroundings.

♡ English is not my first language.

♡ I’m not a profesional astrologer.

Thank youu. baibaiii🫣🫶🏼💋

Do not copy. Please give me credits

[candycandy00]

The Doll House - A Nanami x Reader Fanfic Part 3

 Despite your crippling fear of men, your family sells you to the Doll House. Luckily, you end up with the handsome, gentlemanly Nanami as your trainer, and he’s about to show you how great a man can be.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Nanami’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored! I’m keeping the same tag list as Geto’s part. If you’d like to be removed, please let me know!

Note: Consider these parts AU’s within an AU. So you might see Geto with a different doll from the reader in his part, but just consider this an alternate timeline lol.

The book series the characters are discussing is The Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson. Jasnah and Shallan are both from it. Everyone please go read it because it’s amazing (and fall in love with Kaladin just like everyone else, in universe and out). 

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Daddy kink. Hair pulling. Oral sex. Fingering. Spanking (with hand). Divider by @benkeibear!

Four weeks into your training, you and Nanami are both sitting in your chairs, reading. You adore these quiet moments between you two, where you’re both doing something you love, together. Nanami always seems so relaxed and comfortable sitting there, a heavy book in his lap, his reading glasses slipping down his nose. You’re happy he can feel that way in your presence. 

The feelings you’re starting to have for him… they’re dangerous. He’s explained to you already that you should avoid developing an attachment to him, because he’s not going to be your long term owner. You understand that. But while you are a little less scared of men in general (you can talk to most of the other trainers at dinner now without nearly having a panic attack), you’re still terrified of the idea of some strange man taking you away from here. Away from Nanami. 

“You’ll meet the buyer a few times before you go,” Nanami has told you. “He won’t be a complete stranger to you.”

You were slightly relieved to hear that, but you still felt a knot in your stomach when Nanami casually spoke of another man taking ownership of you. Won’t he miss you? How does he keep training women and then sending them away without a care in the world? 

Did the previous women feel this way about him? Did they get this close to him? These questions haunt you.

You close the book in your lap, finally finishing the second book in the series Nanami is lending you. At your pace, you should finish the third one before you have to leave. The books are massive though. 

He looks up. “Finished?”

“Yes, just now.”

His eyes seem a little warmer as he asks, “What did you think of it?”

Outside the window you tried to crawl out of once upon a time, snow is falling silently. There’s already a blanket of the shimmering diamond dust on the ground outside, making the warmth of Nanami’s room all the more cozy.

You tuck your legs under yourself and say, “It was amazing! That climax was incredible!”

He smiles and nods. “I thought so too. Have you chosen a favorite character yet?”

You think for a moment. He asked you the same question when you finished the first book, but you wanted to read more before deciding. Now, you think you have your answer. “Jasnah. She kind of reminds me of you.”

Nanami looks surprised. “She does?”

“Yeah. She’s super smart, mature, collected, strong, beautiful…”

He raises an eyebrow at that last word. 

“Uh, I mean… you’re… very handsome. But you know that already,” you say awkwardly. 

“I appreciate the compliment,” he says. “I think my favorite is Shallan. She’s a bit of a mess, but she’s trying.”

You feel heat creeping into your cheeks. You saw so much of yourself in Shallan that you almost didn’t like her. But she’s Nanami’s favorite? Maybe he thinks more of you than you thought. 

“I hope I can finish the third book by the time I leave,” you tell him. 

“You will. And you can take my copy of the fourth with you. Think of it as a gift.”

You blink at him. “A gift? How did you know my birthday is tomorrow?”

His eyes widen slightly. “Tomorrow is your birthday? I didn’t know. The book was going to be a farewell present, so I’ll get you something else tomorrow.”

You quickly wave your hands in a dismissive motion. “Oh, no, you don’t have to get me anything!”

“Let’s see, how about a nice dinner?” he asks, ignoring your protests. “I’ll make reservations in the morning. And we’ll need to get you something appropriate to wear. The restaurant I have in mind is high end.”

High end? So he’s taking you some place fancy. You remember your aunt taking you to fancy restaurants a few times in your teenage years, but you had panic attacks when any men came near. You probably scared the poor waiters half to death. In the end, you had to leave before the food was even served. By the time you reached adulthood, your aunt stopped trying, which meant she also stopped buying you fancy dresses to wear. 

The next morning, Nanami takes you to a boutique in town and instructs the stylist working there to help you find something suitable. He waits patiently while you try on several dresses, finally settling on a red, form fitting one with a high neckline to balance out the rather daring slit up to your hip. The stylist announces that the two of you have chosen a dress, and from the fitting room you hear Nanami’s voice ask, “Would you like to show it to me?”

“Not yet,” you call back through the curtain. “I want it to be a surprise tonight.”

After putting back on your regular clothes, you step out to find Nanami at the counter, paying the exorbitant price for the dress, as well as shoes and a long coat you’d picked out first. You told him you already had a good coat, but he insisted. 

Back at the Doll House, Nanami politely stepped out so that you could get ready. He was wearing a fine suit that looked ridiculously expensive and his hair was neatly styled back from his face. He looked so handsome, you almost asked if you could spend the evening in bed with him. 

One of the other dolls, the one being trained by Choso, worked in a salon before being a doll. You suppose that explains Choso’s constantly changing hairstyles, but you’re pleasantly surprised when she offers to do your hair and makeup for you. When she’s finished, and you’re wearing your new dress and shoes, you’re shocked by how fancy you look in the mirror. It’s been so long since you dressed up for anything, you’ve nearly forgotten how nice it feels. 

You pull on your new coat, which is long enough to conceal much of the dress. It’s beautiful, with fur trim, and very warm. There’s also a pair of sleek leather gloves laid out for you to wear. You wonder why he wants you to dress so warmly. Maybe he wants to take a romantic stroll through town. 

When you step into the welcome room, Nanami is waiting for you. He offers his arm to you in his typical gentlemanly fashion and the two of you step outside into the cold winter night. 

You stop short as soon as you walk out the door. There in front of the entrance is a beautiful horse-drawn carriage. The entire thing is white with gold trim, even the horses are the color of snow. Now you know why Nanami wanted you to be warm. 

He goes over to the carriage and opens the door. A step lowers down from the side and Nanami helps you up and into the seat, then sits beside you. There’s a heated blanket folded neatly on the seat across from you, and Nanami spreads it over both your laps. “Not too cold, are you?” he asks, sliding one warm arm around your shoulders. 

“No,” you say, still a bit awe struck, “it feels nice.”

“I’ve noticed you like to watch the snow falling outside the window, so I assumed you like snow,” he says. 

He’s been paying that much attention to you? The thought makes your heart flutter. “I love snow,” you tell him, looking up at the dark sky. The snow is falling softly but steadily, in a way that will only leave a thin coating on the ground. It’s breathtaking. 

As the carriage moves to the road, you can’t help feeling like a Princess. The sound of the horses’ hooves clacking on the road is comforting, and you end up leaning your head on Nanami’s shoulder, savoring his heat. 

*************

After the carriage stops in front of the exclusive French restaurant Nanami made reservations at, he stands up and climbs down, then helps his doll move down the steps provided. She seems breathless and excited, which is exactly what Nanami was hoping for. He knows being out in public, around men, makes her nervous. The plan was to make the trip there so unique, she wouldn’t have the chance to let her anxiety build. He also called ahead and requested a woman to be their server. He wants this to be a special night. 

Once inside the warm, well lit restaurant, Nanami removes his outer coat and hands it off to an attendant. Then he steps behind his doll and gently removes hers. After handing it over and turning back to face her, he finally gets to see the dress she has chosen.

He nearly stops breathing. She’s so stunning in the long red dress, the slit on the side going almost scandalously high, that he’s not sure he’ll be able to remain a gentleman tonight. At the moment, he wants nothing more than to take her home immediately and fuck her into the mattress. 

But tonight isn’t about what he wants. It’s about her, about celebrating the day she came into this world. 

So he holds out his arm and she takes it, curling her elbow around his to interlock herself with him as they walk through the restaurant. Nanami reserved a secluded table next to a large window, so that she could have an excellent view of the town and the falling snow as she enjoyed her meal. 

He pulls out her chair for her and then takes his own. She seems a little bit nervous, but relaxes when a woman comes to the table to ask what the couple would be having to drink this evening. Nanami orders champagne after confirming his doll likes it, and the two of them look over their menus as the server walks away. 

Once dinner is brought out, Nanami is impressed with the doll’s table manners. She grew up in a wealthy family, so he supposes it shouldn’t be a surprise, but the way she gracefully eats her meal and sips her champagne seems at odds with the awkward woman who ran to the bathroom to scream a few weeks ago. He still chuckles to himself when he remembers it. 

“Do you always take dolls to fancy restaurants like this?” she asks. 

“No, this is the first time, actually,” he replies. 

She seems surprised. “Really? So why me then?”

“It’s your birthday. And I haven’t been here in a very long time. I don’t enjoy eating here alone,” Nanami tells her. 

“I see,” she says, and he wonders why she sounds just a little disappointed. 

“That being said,” he adds, “if I’m going to bring someone here to eat with me, I’d prefer to bring a beautiful, intelligent woman like you.”

She blushes and looks back at her plate, making Nanami smile. They make pleasant conversation for the rest of the meal, then when his doll is finished eating, she suddenly touches her ear and says, “Oh no, I’ve lost an earring.”

There’s something strange about the way she says it, as if she’s not really worried, but she stands up from her chair and looks around on the floor. 

Nanami’s eyes scan the floor around the table as well. “I can ask if someone can help look for it,” he says, starting to get up himself. 

She holds up one hand to stop him. “No! It’s okay. I can find it!” Then she pulls the fabric of her dress up and to the side and gets down on her knees. Perplexed by this odd behavior, Nanami watches as she crawls beneath the table, disappearing behind the thick white tablecloth. A few seconds later, he feels her hands on his thighs, rubbing along the inner sides, then nudging them apart. 

He freezes, the glass of champagne in his hand halfway to his lips. For a moment, he sits perfectly still, feeling her hands working at his belt, then opening his pants. Then he slowly sits the glass back down and subtly lifts the edge of the tablecloth. There she is, his beautiful, awkward, sexy, silly doll, pulling his rapidly hardening cock from his pants and wrapping her red lips around it. 

He can feel her tongue gliding over him, coating him in saliva, her eyes staring up at his face. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, trying to maintain a stern tone but struggling to keep from moaning. 

She pulls away, strings of fluid connecting her lips to his tip. “I’m still hungry, Daddy.”

His self control is being severely tested. He reaches down and grabs a handful of her prettily styled hair, pulling her face back down and effectively shoving his cock back into her mouth. 

Fuck, she’s good at this. Her tongue never rests, her lips are tightly locked around him, and she’s making the hottest little “mmmm” sounds he’s ever heard. It’s a massive struggle to keep his composure. 

His blood nearly freezes in his veins when the server approaches the table. He hopes the tablecloth hides his lap well enough as he smiles politely up at the woman. She smiles back and says, “Will you be having dessert this evening?”

“No, thank you,” he says. 

“And what about your date?” the server asks, probably assuming his doll had went to the restroom.

His grip on her hair tightens and he pushes her head further down, stuffing her little throat beneath the table. “I believe she’s quite full,” he says smoothly to the server. 

After a few more words and leaving the check behind on a silver tray, the server leaves. Nanami lifts the tablecloth again and looks down. The lovely face looking up at him nearly makes him cum on the spot. “You’re being very brazen tonight,” he says, keeping his voice even with great effort. “Such a bad girl. I hate to have to punish you on your birthday, but you leave me no choice.”

Excitement flashes in her eyes. He’s been with her long enough to know what thrills her, what turns her on. And nothing gets her wetter than a good “punishment”. 

He can’t hold out any longer. He pushes her head down again and says, “Don’t make a mess. I don’t want to see a drop on your dress, or my pants.”

She doesn’t have a chance to respond before he cums directly into her tight, hot mouth. He can feel her tongue and throat working to swallow all of it, sucking the life out of him. He suppresses a groan and hopes no one in the restaurant saw the shudder that just rippled through him. 

A minute later, his doll crawls out from under the table and he helps her to her feet. She takes a napkin and wipes her mouth daintily, as if she hasn’t just guzzled his cum. Then she holds up a dangly silver earring and says, “What luck! I found it!”

He can’t stop a grin from spreading over his face, or the massive hardon already building in his pants. There’s no way he can wait until they get home. He leaves a generous tip for the server and then takes his doll by the hand, leading her out of the dining area. He finds the “powder room”, which is structured like a restroom without the toilets. There’s a sink, a mirror, and a wide, padded bench. Apparently it’s a place for people (probably women) to freshen up. 

Nanami confirms the room is empty, then locks the door. He sits down on the bench and then pulls his doll toward him by the arm. Using rough but fluid movements, he forces her to lie stomach-down across his lap. She gasps as he moves one hand under the slit in the dress, stroking her thigh, then pulls the fabric up, exposing her black lace panties. His hand moves over her ass, relishing the feel of the plump flesh, the way she’s already trembling beneath his touch. 

He pulls off his black silk tie and uses it to bind her wrists together behind her back. Then he pulls her panties down to her knees and gives her bare ass a harsh smack with the palm of his hand. 

She lets out a small cry, probably trying not to make too much noise. “I’m sorry, Daddy!” she says. She’s not sorry at all, judging from the lusty look in her eyes. 

Smack!

“And what are you sorry for?” he asks. 

Smack!

She whimpers and squirms in his lap. “F-for being brazen and shameless… and…”

Smack!

“And?” he says.

Smack! 

“For risking us getting caught… and embarrassing you.”

He gives another smack, marveling at the reddened, heated skin where his hand hits. Then he slides his hand down between her thighs, feeling how wet she is, smearing her arousal all over her backside. When he pushes two fingers inside her, she moans and jerks in his lap. He pumps them in and out while she wiggles around, releasing little cries of “ahh ahhh!”

When she’s on the edge of cumming, he withdraws his fingers and gives her another smack, harder this time, and she jolts from the sting. That’s the limit of his self control. Nanami lifts her up and shifts them around so that she’s face down on the bench, her ass in the air, her beautiful red dress bunched up at her waist, her wrists still tied together behind her. And then he’s burying his cock in her dripping pussy while she cries out a little too loudly. 

He gives her raw ass another smack as his thrusts get deeper, and she clenches so tightly around him that he sees stars. Three more smacks and she’s cumming on his cock, crying and quivering, her makeup ruined by her tears. Almost immediately after, he reaches his limit, shooting his cum into her core. 

For the next few minutes, they sit side by side on the bench, just catching their breath. Then they quietly help each other clean up and his doll fixes her hair and makeup as best she can at the sink. She catches Nanami’s eye in the mirror and gives him a sweet, warm smile. 

She’s incredible, he thinks. She’s incredible and she’s his. At least for now. 

The thought of his time with her being temporary has been on his mind lately, and he can’t seem to stop thinking about it. He feels so comfortable with her, as if he’s truly home when she’s by his side. She stimulates him both physically and emotionally. Lately, he can’t seem to picture his life without her in it. 

There is a way she could stay with him, and he’s given that a lot of thought these past few days. But what would she think of the idea? 

On the way home, in the carriage, he watches the snowflakes collect on her hair and leans over to kiss her, his hand finding hers under the heated blanket. 

The carriage drops them off back at the Doll House, and as they walk through the parking lot, still holding hands, Nanami broaches the topic to her. 

“Are you aware that all trainers at the Doll House are allowed to keep exactly one doll they’ve trained?” he asks. 

She looks at him, eyes wide. “No, I didn’t know that,” she says as they near the door. 

He reaches out and opens it for her. “These past few weeks have been wonderful. If they’ve been the same for you… I was thinking of ‘keeping you’. How would you feel about that?”

She’s stepping through the open door when the words hit her. Just inside, she whirls around to face him as he follows her in. She opens her mouth. “I-“

“There you are!”

A feminine voice cuts off his doll’s reply. The two of them look up to find an older, classy looking woman standing in the lobby. 

His doll looks shocked. “Aunt Rina?”

Aunt? So this is the woman who sold off her own terrified niece to the Doll House.  Nanami instantly dislikes the woman, but he keeps his expression politely neutral. 

Aunt Rina places one jewel-covered hand on her hip. “I’ve been waiting all evening,” she says to her bewildered looking niece. 

Then…

“Pack your things. I’m here to take you home.”

Tag List:

@suguguro @kaedear @onyxsphynx @poopoobuttsy @butterskyy @collectionofdolls @akaotv @witchbybirth @bloofinntoona @wasurenagusaa @tclbts @tojirin @lucyrocks86 @badbyeyoongi @97britt @aydene @lzaj19 @lyn-lotte @missthatgirl @peachedtv @ladytamayolover @nanam1nx @deegausserr

[cabinseventheaterchick]

BLOG NEWS: Check back later!

I now run a Riordanverse roleplay Tumblr Community! Everyone is welcome!

Kat if she had a Wikipedia page (her lore summarized)

Portrait done by the incredibly talented @apollos-coolest-child

Oh, hi! Didn’t see you see there. I’m Kat Carter!

Okay, lemme think… I’m fifteen, daughter of Apollo currently at Camp Half-Blood with my homies <3

When I’m not at camp, NYC is my home base. You can probably find me in Apollo cabin: practicing monologues/songs, playing matchmaker (it’s not just for Aphrodite kids!), or staging a kitchen coup d’état so I can bake something delicious.

he gets his own category:

@ellis--wakefield — my boyfriend <333

he’s really cute and he’s great at capture the flag and he’s nice to the newbies and damn he’s just idk how to even describe him ‘cause words cannot

Former… um… let’s just say people I used to know:

@lukemessedup — Good boss, bad business

@lieutenant-of-kronos — I regret letting him convince me to join up but he’s a nice guy.

@alabaster-c-t — Yep. You read that right. Bro is apparently not dead, nor has ever been.

@the-song-of-the-moon — We’re starting an ex-Titan Army therapy group together :3

Uncle Kronos (links to the Wayback Machine of the first version) — Literally cannot believe I wrote this. Uncle Kronos was a good person. I think I’ll always miss him, but I’m glad he found peace. Here’s to you, Uncle K.

@existence-is-pain-ahhhhhhhh — need I say more? He’s awesome. Case closed.

@the-better-castellan — new addition to the List Of People Who Aren’t Dead After All! They’re cool trust me

@peyton-is-cool — I missed him loads. Thank the gods he’s safe—he’s been in Texas? I guess?

Totally irresponsible pseudo-father to half of CHB (he does actually care about campers but he’s got a reputation to uphold):

@dionysus-god-of-all-things-wine

My fellow campers, love y’all:

@thanatoss-favorite-demigod — best murder road trip buddy a gal could ask for

@thehadescabincounsler — I’ve adopted them into Apollo cabin. They’re now officially an honorary child of the Sun Dude.

@thatonebitheaterkid — my sibling. too many pets (affectionate)

@that-dam-daughter-of-poseidon — my absolute bestie <3

@poseidons-favourite-daughter — training together ⚔️! She’s so sweet and a year rounder so I won’t be alone come fall

@yes-im-a-daughter-of-hades — she just got back from Tartarus, so you know what that means!… binge watching everything pop culture. Phineas and Ferb say what?

@lady-ariadne-of-milan — my coolest big sister. Be nice, she’s been trapped as a flower since, like, the Renaissance.

@bill-son-of-boreas — Ayyy! My Norwegian bestie!

@internal-bloodshed — I’m like ninety percent sure he wants me dead. If I step a toe out of line and hurt Ellis, my body will apparently never be found.

@the-better-stoll-brother — If anyone messes with him one more time I’m throwing hands.

Shoot me an ask, camp can get kinda boring!

(Psst. My general tag is #kat carter on the case, and my lore tag is #from the archives of kat carter)

(Extra psst. Do you want more Kat Carter content without actually having to roleplay? Send me an ask by picking something from my tag #ask game!)

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfic - Floo

Words: 996 😮‍💨

@wolfstarmicrofic

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

It was like James had a sixth sense of when Sirius brought a man home, because the last eight times, he’d tumbled through the floo, needing help with something, or wanting to hang out or to check in on Remus. Each time Sirius had been utterly cockblocked by it.

The ninth time it happened, he’d had enough.

“How do you do it?” He snapped when Davey suddenly remembered that he had an early start in the morning. “How do you do this every time?”

James, to his credit, played dumb, “Do what? I’m just here to return Moony’s book.”

“Where is it?” Sirius said, looking at James’ empty hands.

“Where’s what?”

“The book.” Sirius growled, “The book that you’re returning to Moony, Prongs.”

“Oh, would you look at that? I left it at home.” James chuckled, “Oh well, no harm no foul.”

Sirius strode past him into the hallway and James heard his bedroom door slam. Remus poked his head into the living room a few seconds later.

“I think he’s onto you.” He said wearily.

“No idea what you mean, Moony.” James sat down on the sofa.

“What is it?” Something in the wards?”

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” James smiled as Remus dropped into the armchair.

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing it.” Remus frowned, “I’d ask if you fancy him, but you’re getting married in three months so I almost don’t want to.”

“No, I do not fancy Padfoot. Jesus.” James groaned, “But you do.”

Remus’ face dropped, “Don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Moony.”

“Prongs.”

“Remus.”

“James.”

“Look, I know sometimes I can be… unobservant, let’s say. But not this time.” James pointed at him. “I saw the two of you at our engagement party.”

Remus’ face suddenly went from very pale to very red. “Ah.”

“Yes, ah. It looked like the two of you were finally getting your shit together.” James looked at him over the top of his glasses. “So what happened?”

“Well, we came home, we… spent some time in Sirius’ bed. I woke up alone in Sirius’ bed and we’ve just… never spoken about it.” Remus shrugged, but James recognised that sad look in his eyes.

“Would it kill the two of you to have a conversation?” James sighed.

“Possibly.” Remus said, “It’s definitely been too long to bring it up now, though. And he clearly has no intention of doing so. If anything he’s bringing more men home than he was before.”

“But they’re not staying long are they?” James feigned confusion. “Fascinating.”

“This won’t end well.” Remus couldn’t help but smile. “I'm going to deny all knowledge. Wait, would me bringing people home trigger the same thing?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” James smirked.

“And that’s why I go to their place whenever the opportunity arises, instead of bringing them here,” Remus said.

“Well, that, and you’re not an asshole.” James’ smirk dropped. “I don’t get what he’s doing.”

“Oh, believe me, I’ve been over and over it in my head.” Remus said quietly, “If he regretted it, he could just tell me. It would suck for a bit, but I’m not a dickhead.”

“Maybe you just need to get drunk together again.”

“That’s a stupid idea.” Remus curled in on himself, tucking his feet under him. “Maybe I should think about moving out.”

“No!” Sirius stood in the doorway, wide-eyed and covering his mouth. James and Remus stared at him. “I don’t want you to move out.” He said quietly after an awkward silence.

“But you understand why he’d want to?” James frowned at him. Sirius nodded. “So, why?”

“I met Emmeline.” Sirius mumbled, “The morning after the party.” Remus’ mouth dropped open.

“Oh, fuck.” His head was in his hands, “Oh shit, oh fuck.”

“Yeah. She turned up for your coffee date wearing less than I enjoyed seeing on a Sunday morning.” Sirius came and sat on the arm of the sofa. “I may have been a bit snippy with her, honestly.”

“Wait, who’s Emmeline?” James asked, looking between them.

“She’s the woman that Remus brought home three days before your engagement party,” Sirius said, not looking at Remus, who was trying not to smirk.

“On a Wednesday, Moony?” James was bewildered.

“Sometimes trivia night is a good way to meet people,” Remus muttered. “I completely forgot that we had plans. Well, that explains why she blocked me.”

“That, and Sirius playing jealous boyfriend,” James added.

“I was not— I didn’t— Shut up, Prongs.” Sirius looked at Remus, “I figured it out afterwards that it was arranged before we… you know. And then I just felt gross for how I reacted.”

“You could have said something, you know.” Remus sighed, “You didn’t have to pretend it never happened and return to your carousel of men.”

“Yeah.” Sirius nodded, “It was shitty, and the shittier I felt about it, the more I spiralled, and then I thought you’d arranged this thing with Prongs to cockblock me, and then I was petty about it. And then I felt guilty about how petty I’d been, and then I spiralled some more, and yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Moony had nothing to do with it,” James confirmed.

“Yeah, I know that now.” Sirius pointed to the door. “Moody would have something to say about your awareness of your surroundings.”

“Moody can kiss my arse.” Remus shook his head, “We probably should talk about it then?” Sirius nodded.

“Well, that’s my cue.” James stood up. “You’re welcome. I’ll be around to fix your wards tomorrow. Please be clothed.”

“You’re lucky we love you, you know,” Sirius said as James waved before stepping into the fire.

“So at what point do we tell him that we’ve been together for six months?” Remus said as Sirius came to squeeze into the armchair. “He really thought he was onto something.”

“He means well.” Sirius kissed Remus’ forehead. “Love you, Moons.”

“Love you too.” He said, “Tell Davey we owe him a pint.”

Notes:

ha.

Also my headcanon (is it a headcanon if it's your own fic?) is that the first time it happened it was completely innocent, Sirius was just bringing a friend round for a drink or something, but then James showed up and was so pleased with himself that they concocted this plan

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 12

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

Roger: Kate, I got good news. A new Cursed One may have been found!

Kate: Hey, don’t just burst into my room without knocking!

I pulled the front of my blouse tightly over my chest and glared at Roger.

Roger: You were in the middle of changing? My bad.

(...You don’t look sorry at all)

Kate: It’s fine. Just give me a second.

I turned away from him and finished tying up my blouse. I sighed and turned back to face Roger.

Kate: So it’s true that a new Cursed One was found?

Roger: Yeah, it’s true. Last night, a young man named Lance Brown was arrested for sneaking into a butcher’s shop and eating the meat. Here’s the important part. When he was about to be arrested, he made all the police officers faint just by hugging them.

(That definitely sounds like a Cursed One’s ability…)

Kate: That’s not something the average human can do.

Roger: Yeah, that’s why I’m thinking there’s a high possibility it’s a Cursed One. Apparently when Victor heard about it, he paid for his release, and ordered him to provide information in return.

(As expected from Victor. Making the necessary investments…This is the palace’s Grim Reaper)

(Even so)

Kate: Hehe, you look happy, Roger.

Roger: Of course I am. Cursed ones are born all over the world, but there aren’t that many to begin with. Just meeting them is a valuable sample. Besides, plenty of Cursed Ones die without even realizing that they’re cursed.

From what I read in Roger’s research, because the existence of Cursed Ones isn’t public knowledge, many commit suicide because they think there’s something wrong with them, turn to crime, or get falsley accused like Alec was.

Kate: I think there’s a lot of happiness in this world we don’t know about. However, there’s some misfortunes that happen when you don’t know yourself. But… It would be a shock to suddenly go out and tell someone “You’re a Cursed One.”

Perhaps it was because of his rational personality, but Roger had a habit of being too direct.

A pro was that he was to the point and easy to understand. A con, well…that.

Roger: When I was a kid, I said something so suddenly to Alfons that it left a lasting mark on him. I won’t make the same mistake again. We’ll see how things go when we go see him today.

Kate: “We” are going to see him?

Roger: What are you so surprised for? You’re my assistant aren’t you?

(Well, according to the robin growth map…)

(I remember the promotion going from dogsbody -> dog -> assistant -> partner -> lover)

So I guess I’ve ranked up from dog to assistant.

Kate: Though I returned all the materials you let me borrow, I never said I read through them all…

Roger: You didn’t need to. You’re not the type to demand rewards or recognition for your work. But I know you’re a hard worker that never skimps on things.

That honestly makes me happy

Thank you +4 +4

I’m uncomfortable 

The sudden compliment made my cheeks warm.

Kate: …Thank…you.

Roger: Hm? I didn’t hear you.

Kate: Thank you! And don’t lie about your hearing.

Roger: Haha. Come on, I got a carriage waiting. Let’s go, Kate.

Kate: Wait for me Roger!

Clothes already changed, I rushed to shove my notebook and handkerchief into my bag before following him.

Kate: Huh, but…We can’t let outsiders know we’re Crown. What do we say to him?

Roger: Leave it to me. Well, I’ll need a lot of help from you too.

(Huh…—?)

--

And so Roger and I went to see the young man who was arrested last night for sneaking into a butcher’s shop.

Roger: Nice to meet you Lance Brown. I’m Roger Barel, a doctor. And this is…

Kate: I’m Doctor Roger’s a-assistant, Kate.

Roger: We’re employed by the royal family. Our job is to interview criminals and provide support in a healthy rehabilitation. Right, Kate?

Kate: Y-yes! So I hope we can chat without being too formal.

(Another appropriate lie, even if it is to hide Crown’s existence…)

While I was worrying over taking part in a lie, Lance hung his head apologetically.

Lance: No, I apologize for the trouble I’ve caused. They saved me by paying for my release. I’ll tell you whatever I can. I don’t want to commit crimes so carelessly again.

Roger: Then let’s start with drawing some blood…

Lance: Drawing?? Blood??

Roger: Yeah, I need to draw blood for mental stability.

(More appropriate lies)

However, knowing what Roger’s trying to achieve, I couldn’t blame him for lying.

After that, I continued to help Roger gather information on the Cursed One under the guise of an “interview”— 

(That’s…?)

Suddenly, I noticed a painting in Lance’s art studio.

Kate: Lance, you’re a painter, right?

Lance: Ah, yes. An amateur…

Taking a look around the room, I saw a couple of canvases on easels.

Kate: Most of the paintings are of landscapes. Ah, but there’s some portraits too…

My eyes were drawn to a portrait of a red-haired girl.

Kate: …Beautiful. Is she someone important to you, Lance?

Lance: Huh.

Kate: Ah, well…even with untrained eyes, I could tell a lot of care was put into the painting.

Lance: …Yes. The young lady is someone I like. She works at a bakery near the studio…

Lance pointed out to the street from his studio on the second floor.

Lance: I always watch her from here.

Roger: So you don’t even know this lady’s name?

Lance: I’m embarrassed to admit it…

The simple-looking Lance blushed.

Roger: You’re wasting time hesitating. Just go talk to her.

Kate: That’s terrible advice! This is why you’re inconsiderate.

Roger: Oh, as expected from a teacher who claims that she can teach me about being in love. How would you go about it, Kate?

Kate: Me?

(We’re not here to discuss this…)

Kate: I’d start with seasonal greetings and then gradually work my way up from there…

Roger: …Huh, that’s no good. With your method time will go by in an instant and they’ll end up in their graves before they know it.

Kate: Wha?!

Lance, who had been listening to our conversation with wide eyes suddenly burst into laughter.

Lance: Pfft, hahahaha! Ah, sorry. I was so nervous given how you work for royalty, but you two are so…charming.

Roger: I’m charming? Artists have a strange way of seeing things.

Kate: Hehe.

Lance: Sorry to stop the fun advice you’ve given me, but…I’m fine with the way things are. I’m just happy watching her from here. …If I just watch her, my love won’t hurt her.

Lance muttered and then turned to us with a smile.

Lance: But enough about me! I’m sorry for asking this out of the blue, you two are lovers, aren’t you?

Kate: Huh?

Lance: You two appear to be very close and you don’t act like coworkers…am I wrong?

Kate and Roger: You’re wrong!/That’s right.

Lance: Oh dear, who should I believe?

Kate: Ugh, what are you even talking about, Roger?

Roger: Don’t get all shy just because we’re in company.

I started arguing with Roger again in front of Lance, who just smiled in mild amusement.

Kate: Lance, don’t believe a thing he says. Believe me!

Lance: Ahahaha!

-- 

After chatting with Lance, we got back on the carriage to Crown Castle.

Roger: Hey, hey. Don’t pout. I’ll buy you some jerky.

(Jerky is a treat for Ale…)

Kate: Stop treating me like a dog. Geez…you’re always saying the most random things.

The pointless arguments continue all the way back to Crown Castle, but…apart from that, Lance sincerely answered our questions.

Kate: Roger, Lance really is a Cursed One, isn’t he?

Roger: I haven’t seen his ability in practice yet so I can’t say for sure. Moreover, even if you saw the ability, you can’t say for sure what the curse is.

Kate: Why is that?

Roger: You know why this has become known as “Fairytale Curses”. Novelists and playwrights around the world created works based on existing “Cursed Ones”. It’s said to be what started them off.

~~ Flashback start ~~

Roger: It’s said that the origins of various fairytales were based on these “Cursed Ones”. But nowadays, it’s reversed and we refer to it as the “Fairytale Curse”.

~~ End flashback ~~

(That’s what I was told when we first met)

Kate: Um, so…let’s say Lance is cursed. Are you saying we don’t know if the curse exists in a fairytale?

Roger: That’s right. As expected from my assistant, quick on the uptake.

He ruffled my hair.

(It’s annoying how happy I get even when this is something you do to a dog…)

It felt like he was training me and while I hung my head feeling frazzled, Roger called out to me.

Roger: So…What do you think? Anything about this make you suspicious? 

(Roger felt it too)

Kate: Lance was arrested because he was found sneaking into a butcher’s shop at night and eating the meat right? But Lance didn’t seem like the type to so easily commit a crime. Besides, the paintings on display had papers taped on them indicating that they were to be sold. As we were chatting, he brought up receiving commissions. So he’s not living in poverty…

Roger: And look at the paint. It has the royal warrant of appointment.

Roger held up a used tube of blue paint.

Kate: Huh, you just took that without asking? That’s wrong…

Roger: Wrong? We’re still villains in Crown. We can’t protect anything by doing things the right way.

--

The moment we arrived back at the castle, we went straight to Lord Elbert’s room.

I thought that someone like Lord Elbert, who collected beautiful things, would understand the value of the paint.

Elbert: …This paint certainly is a first-class product of the Royal Warrant. Also…I heard that Lance Brown’s paintings have caught the eyes of nobility.

(Lance is a famous painter…)

Elbert: As you two have discussed, I don’t believe he’s struggling financially.

Kate: I thought so…

When I guess turned out to be correct, new suspicions formed.

Kate: Then why did he steal from the butcher’s shop that night?

Elbert: If he is a cursed one…Then perhaps it has to do with his curse.

Kate: His curse…?

Elbert: The sin of a Cursed One is far more powerful than you could possibly imagine. My cursed sin is greed…Sometimes I crave and crave, and the rational side of me can’t resist the urges. If he’s also tormented by his own sin…

Roger: I’m betting on a high possibility of that too.

Elbert: You haven’t told him that he’s probably a Cursed One, have you?

Seeing our expressions, Elbert’s long eyelashes lowered melancholically. 

Elbert: …If that’s the case, then you should tell him as soon as possible. I believe self-awareness is a way to protect yourself.

Roger: Yeah, I will. Thanks El, you were a big help.

Kate: Thank you, Lord Elbert.

Elbert: No problem. Roger’s done a lot for me.

Ocean blue eyes looked out at the sky through the window.

Elbert: It’s going to rain…tonight.

What Elbert said was true. It started raining that night—and the day after.

We then heard that Lance had passed away.

[its-your-mind]

Jon Chester trying to communicate and/or comfort with statements is the cutest and funniest and most in-character shit.

Sam just joined a possibly-evil organization and seems way too interested in gaining knowledge from the stories? Has a history with the Magnus Institute? Well fuck I can’t let him end up back there.

Canaries should stay above ground.

Colin keeps looking too hard into what he shouldn’t, but he doesn’t know enough to stay safe. I have to warm him.

Voyeur needs to be seen to be believed. Scariest movie I have ever seen.

(Brief interlude when Jon finds out that Gerry is alive and has a permanent address which is a big enough ??? and feeling of relief and hope to risk a single email with an address so Sam can go see for him if it really is Gerry, if he’s really alive and if he’s okay (and then he is he’s happy and safe and he paints and goes to art shows and he calls Gertrude GeeGee). Bit of a shame about the name in the email address, though. Who knows, maybe that woman will stop calling him fucking Chester…)

Ahem.

Anyway, Sam won’t let the whole “Magnus Institute” thing go, and now Celia is here? Working here? Recognizing his voice? (Martin had to remind him who Celia was — Jon feels that his lack of remembrance is justified, in this case. Those tunnels blocked off his connection to the Eye! Remember what happened with the camera at Salesa’s? He forgot everything that happened there! Frankly, he’s impressed he even managed to remember meeting Melanie and Georgie down there, let alone the names of their awful annoying cult members. (Jon, be nice. It was the apocalypse). Well, I didn’t see you cozying up with that poet, whatever his name was— (*with sudden disgust* Arun.) *trying to keep a straight face* ah. yes, him.) What is Jon supposed to do about this? Well. Fine. If Sam intends to poke around, Jon can at least make the dangers present there clear.

Statement and Research assessment for artefact CD137. Magnus Institute. … [Transcription ends due to interruption. Statement giver declared dead by paramedics at scene.]

So. They went to the Institute. He knows about all of it, there was a tape recorder there. They were… in the Archives. In the assistants’ area where Tim used to throw the caps of his glitter pens to see how many he could get caught in Sasha’s hair before she noticed. Looking at the decrepit remains of the filing shelves he had been so fucking stressed about organizing. In his office.

Worms tracks on the ground. All paperwork removed or destroyed. And when Sam steps wrong, the tunnels. Oh, Christ. The tunnels. He drops a key down into them as he falls. Alice catches him. They leave. Some…thing takes the key Sam dropped. Unlocks the trapdoor, the one Leitner and Gertrude used to get in and out of the Archives. Here in Manchester, maybe the only way out of the underground passages. The trapdoor opens. Something pulls itself out.

~~~

And now, Alice has been being stalked by drowned corpses. Okay, sure. Yeah, shit uhhh… okay here’s one. Here, look, same kinda thing happened here. That tattoo artist shows up again too! Gotta keep track of reoccurrences. Learn as much as you can — the tip-off about the fire extinguishers saved Jon, Tim, and Martin in the archives. (And Sasha, before that… thing lured her into Artifact Storage.)

It belongs to the deep. I’m going to go get it and I’m going to find it and if they try and stop me I swear the ocean will claim us all. I can taste the salt and spray. It’s waiting in the water.

And now back to Sam. Back to warnings. It’s not just artifacts. The Institute deals with dangerous people, too.

This room, it’s a mess. Printouts, delivery notes, a bunch of rejection letters from some institute he pinned to the wall with a kitchen knife. And it's hot in here, dad. Too hot. Oh god. I can feel it. My throat is swelling. And it itches. I can still hear all the snakes brushing up against the door and... in the walls, I think. Christ, they’re in the walls...

Alice got attacked. He was there, he managed to get a tape on the scene, he heard it all. It was one of the drowned things.

Ink5oul knows something about them. What the hell, right? Michael gave Sasha the tip about the fire extinguishers. Let’s mine another colorful creep for information. Ink5oul dug one of these things up for some reason. Hold on, hold on, he just saw something about them, something about getting some kid to follow them to a graveyard…

We head on through the graves and then they point to one of ‘em and just give me a look. I was no cap shook and then they just said “dig”. I laughed, ‘cause, like, the ‘hell? But they were serious.

And at the same time, Celia keeps waking up on the ground, closer and closer to Oxford each time, like there’s something gently tugging her back towards the world she left. She doesn’t know how to stop it. Jon knows how that feels, the feeling like your own body is just a puppet tangled in invisible strings, at risk of starting a dance you don’t know, to music you can’t hear, at any moment, without any warning.

There isn’t anything that he can really do to help her. But he found it comforting to hear what happened to Gertrude.

I’ve lived Darien’s life for four years now. It wasn’t as hard as you’d think, turns out your world and mine are pretty similar.

CELIA (to computer): Thanks, I guess. Not exactly the same is it?

No. No, it’s not. He knows that there isn’t really any comfort to be found in knowledge when all you learn only points you more and more towards the conclusion that you are alone, and helpless, and powerless against the forces that are dead-set on fucking up your life.

[pullhisteeth]

wise words | eddie munson

summary Eddie f*cked up (royally) and has to work his ass off to get you back. based on a swift song obviously [4k]

contains 18+! fem!reader, a bit of fuckboy!eddie, angst, arguing, grovelling, hurt/comfort, crying, eventual fluff, suggestive themes/allusions to smut, Robin and Steve being disappointed but supportive pseudo-parents

-

He’s standing on your doorstep.

He’s standing on your doorstep and he’s shaking. Like a fucking leaf.

He looks down at the flowers wrapped in cellophane and thinks, are they good enough?

Am I good enough?

Will anything ever be good enough?

Thick drops of rainwater run down the plastic and coat the pink petals and he resolves that no, they’re not good enough.

He knocked twenty-three seconds ago. He knows this because he’s counting, keeping himself grounded.

Twenty-four Mississippi.

Twenty-five Mississippi.

Twenty-six Miss-

The door swings open quickly, almost impatiently, as though there wasn’t nearly half a minute between the knock and the response.

He looks up and when his eyes meet yours he knows for sure this time that this was a bad idea.

“Are you insane?” you ask him. Concern cuts through the irritation, leaving those creases by your eyebrows he’s so familiar with.

He doesn’t respond, his mind elsewhere. He’s desperately trying to pull it back but it’s running fast, back to yesterday evening.

-

“Eddie, seriously,” Robin says, impatient, “you have to do something. This is getting ridiculous, and besides, she’s crazy about you, even if you did royally fuck up, and- Hey!”

“What Rob means to say,” Steve interjects, giving her a swift and clean elbow to the ribs, “is that you’ve gotta grovel, man.”

“But it’s been so long,” Eddie whines, running his hands over his face, a pattern he has grown accustomed to over the past few months. A fed-up, miserable routine of lamenting his deepest regrets to his patient but equally-as-fed-up friends over beers on the nights you’re too busy to join them. “I can’t- I don’t know what I’d say.”

“Here,” Robin says, laying her palms flat on the table, fingers splayed. She pushes herself up, weight on her hands, and leans over Eddie. He stares up at her from behind his own fingers and winces quietly. “You love her, right?”

“Yes,” he responds, voice muffled under the heels of his hands.

“And she loves you-”

“Does she?”

“-and we know this because we’re her friends.”

Eddie’s eyes flit to Steve, whose face is drooping with sympathy. Anyone who has been on the receiving end of a Robin Buckley lecture knows the feeling, and he has had his fair share.

“So what you gotta do,” she continues, dipping her head to regain his attention, “is apologise.”

“I tried that-”

“Properly.”

At this he gives in, huffing a sigh and dropping his arms to fold in front of him, quickly enough to catch his head as it drops to the table like an anvil. He hears Robin return to her seat, and then feels gracious fingers on his elbow.

“Eds, man, it’s gonna be fine. You’ve just gotta fight for it.” It’s Steve, being soft as ever, so desperate to see his two friends happy that he’ll relinquish himself to his affectionate side.

“I want to,” he says, voice muffled again by the denim of his jacket sleeves. “But she deserves better than me.”

“Tell her that,” Robin suggests, voice far softer now. “Tell her you miss her, it’s been a long time, and that you were scared.”

She’s clever, Eddie thinks, pulling that gem out from the archives. On a particularly bad night, maybe two months after it had happened, he’d admitted to them the truth at the heart of all of this: he’s a scared boy, one who resolved while young that he would never fall in love, never let the walls down, for fear that he’d have to endure loss any more than was necessary. Your love had driven him mad and fear had driven him away, and now he avoids three diners and nearly all of the gas stations across Hawkins, schedules doctors appointments at the most inconvenient times and definitely never steps foot in the movie theatre downtown.

“She’ll come around,” Robin tells him kindly. When he lifts his head, eyes regretfully filling with that hopeful spark, she says, “She’s mad, don’t get me wrong. But she’ll come around. You just have some work to do.”

“And for what it’s worth,” Steve says in a cadence that worries Eddie enough to make him lift his head back up again, looking at Steve’s stern expression, “she does deserve better than you.”

“Stop, Steve, seriously-”

“She deserves better than you if you can’t find the fucking courage to go get her back.”

-

Now, standing on your front doorstep, looking at you for the first time in half a year, Eddie knows Steve was right. He doesn’t have the balls to do this; he’s too afraid of rejection, and more specifically rejection from you, and this was a bad idea. You deserve better.

He barely notices when you step one pace to the left, and when you speak your voice sounds like it’s coming from the other side of a thick wall.

“You’re gonna get hypothermia if you stay out there.”

He moves without thinking too hard, because you’re right - it’s cold as fuck out here and he’s grateful for the humming warmth he can feel coming from inside your home.

“Just stay there, I’m gonna get some towels.”

He feels pathetic, standing in your hallway, dripping wet like a fucking dog, gripping so hard onto the flowers that his knuckles are turning white. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, afraid of getting anything in your house wet, but acutely aware of how stupid he must look.

You come back around the corner with two big bath towels in your arms. They’re white and Eddie feels the burning shame of ruining them but says nothing, remaining tight-lipped and letting you clean up the floor. When your fingers curl around his tense ones he stares at you, at the strange, unreadable look on your face, and feels the jolt of a thousand volts carry down his fingers and into his shoulder. Where your fingers made contact you leave a sensation not unlike carpet burn.

“These are pretty,” you tell him, gently pulling the flowers from his grip. The cellophane crinkles and it slowly brings him back to this, to you, and he nearly chokes on air.

He says your name, a pathetic sound followed by even more pathetic noises, and when you smile, tight-lipped just like him and brows turned down, he cracks, voice failing him as he stumbles.

“Get your boots off and meet me in the kitchen,” you say, your face unreadable as ever as you turn on your heels and step back through the open door he knows well. 

You leave him bewildered, like a soldier in the wake of a bomb, but he eventually comes to and does as you say. He debates leaving them outside, to cause you the least bother possible, but decides instead to leave them on one of the towels by the door.

His socks are soggy, slipping on the hardwood as he treads softly through your home. The reaction his gut is having to being here is ugly, so he breathes in slowly through his nose and wipes rainwater off his cheek with the back of his hand.

You’ve got your back to him, standing over the sink. At first he thinks you’re sorting the flowers, the way you always do - wrapping off, stalks trimmed, vase filled - but then he sees that, instead, you’re gripping the porcelain. White-knuckled.

For the first time he gets a look at you, or the back of you at least, because he’s pretty sure you haven’t heard him come around the corner. You’re much the same as before, except for the way you’ve cut your hair, and the fact that he remembers you in pretty sundresses and tennis shoes but it’s December, so you’re bundled in a jumper and sweats.

“I, uh-” He stammers, words catching on the edges of his teeth. He says your name again and watches you flinch. “It’s- It’s been so long, I-”

“Yeah,” you breathe, shoulders relaxing and grip loosening. You turn and lean back on the sink with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Just so you know,” he starts, and he can feel it, the fucking sarcastic tone that he can’t seem to shake. It comes out whenever he has to be genuine and it’s like someone else somewhere is pushing his buttons, controlling what comes out of his mouth. “-it’s been the, uh, the longest six months I think... ever.”

You look at him, more than familiar with this tone and this game. 

“Yeah,” you say again.

“I don’t really know how to-”

“Eddie,” you bite, words like venom. “Can I ask you a question?”

As he nods his head, a little bemused, you gesture to the kitchen table. He catches on and sits at the chair closest to the door as you mirror him on the chair opposite.

“Why the fuck are you here?”

You rest your crossed arms on the table and lean on them, peering at him.

He breathes in slowly.

“To apologise.”

You scoff and he flinches, recoiling at the sound.

“And how’s this one gonna be different to the other hundred apologies?” You spit the word, as though it bears no meaning. At this point, and when it comes to Eddie, it almost doesn't.

That’s fair, he thinks.

-

“You are such a fucking jackass, Eddie Munson,” Robin barks, raising her arms in defeat. She’s pacing the aisles of Family Video while he sits on the counter and Steve loiters behind it, sorting tapes. “A jackass, seriously!”

“I get it, Rob, thanks,” he drones.

“No,” she snaps, feet finally finished being aimless and instead marching her over to him. She stands somewhere close to between his knees and if it weren’t Robin and she weren’t about to grill him for all he’s worth, it might be endearing.

She jabs her index finger into his chest, straight to the centre of his sternum.

“You’re a piece of shit. An asshole. A douchebag. And I’m allowed to call you all of these things because it’s me who gets the phone calls at two in the morning when she’s crying over you. Again.”

He drops his gaze, his hair covering her wrist and his face.

“Why’d you do it, dude?” Steve asks from behind him. “Like… I just don’t see the… Goal, or whatever.”

Eddie groans and tips his head back, staring uncomfortably at the ceiling tiles.

He wonders for a brief moment, before answering, why the two of them are still friends with him. Clearly his end goal is being as inaccessible as possible, keeping everyone at such a far distance at all times that he can never feel remorse, or that he’s letting anyone down. But now he’s here, with his friends, and he’s let them down and, worst of all, let you down, too. More than ever.

“I was trying to make it better,” he says, and the jab to the sternum comes harder this time, and is the full brunt of Robin’s fist rather than her finger.

“That is bullshit,” she says.

“I was!” he maintains, exasperated. “I just… I started trying to explain myself and I just couldn’t tell the truth.”

“So instead you told her you never want to see her again?!”

“I-”

“How does that help literally anything?!”

Robin’s right, of course. She’s always right; too smart for her own good, Eddie’s always thought. But he doesn’t have an answer for her.

“She’s better off that way anyway,” he says, sighing.

-

He blinks at you, studying your stern expression, before answering.

“I wanna be honest with you,” he begins, “like, actually this time. And I know it’s been ages and that I have been…”

“Awful,” you suggest.

“Yeah, awful-”

“An asshole. The worst. Evil. Cruel. Mean.”

“Right,” he says, nodding limply. “Yeah. That.”

You lean back, arms still crossed like armour.

“I want to get this right,” he admits, surprising himself, “and I’m trying to work out how.”

You also seem taken aback by this, brows raising just a bit, your eyes going wide. You don’t say anything, though.

“I want you to know how sorry I am,” he continues. He’s sitting rigid in his seat and can’t find something to occupy his fingers, so he begins twisting a ring around one of them. “But, like, I don’t know how to get that across… The flowers were, uh, step one, and this is step two… I, uh…”

He’s stumbling again, searching for the words in a sea of insecurity and unsteadiness. You wait, sitting still and breathing shallow.

“I think I- I was scared.”

“Of what?” you ask, taking him by surprise. He was expecting a vast silence that he would have to fill with pleas, excuses, sorries and truths. He thought you’d leave him to it and let him down slowly at the end.

“Uh, of you. Of us, I guess.”

“What?”

He leans forward finally, dropping his head into his hands. “I don’t know how to-”

“Try,” you say flatly.

He looks up at you, unsure.

“Try to explain it. You haven’t even tried.”

Deep, heavy breath in.

-

“Eddie, you can’t, I don’t-”

“Fucking stop it,” he bites, arrowhead words ripping you open.

“I don’t understand,” you try again, voice thick with tears and your throat closing in. In fact, everything is closing in.

He’s leaving.

“Exactly,” he spits, pulling his shirt on. “Just… I’m going.”

“But-”

He’s out of the door, jacket in arm, before you can protest any further. Your mind is racing, spinning out in search of something that you could have done to fix this, or else something you could have done to cause this.

But you’re coming up empty, because you’d spent the day the same as any other day this summer: in your bed, entwined, wayward fingers and lazy kisses. Sweet nothings splashed in whispers across bare skin, and-

Oh, you think. Oh.

-

“When you said you loved me,” he begins, wincing at his own honesty, “I just… I freaked, it was scary. I… Honestly, the main problem here is that I was fucking scared. I am scared. I don’t know how to… How to love, or whatever… How to do it right and not hurt you, or me, or both of us. I’m useless, it’s why I’ve never bothered before and I knew, even before we started hooking up, that-”

“Hooking up?”

He looks at you, pulling his eyes back from their wandering, to find you bitter and your face contorted in disgust.

“You call that hooking up?”

“I mean- I-”

“If you think we were hooking up, that’s bad enough, Eddie. Hook ups don’t last three months.”

“No,” he sighs. “They don’t. I think I’m… Trying to make myself feel better about it.”

“You don’t deserve that,” you tell him, and though it’s cutting and it should hurt, your voice is so kind so suddenly that he can’t help but lean into it, tugging gently on the hands of care it extends to him. “You left me, after months of stringing me along. I was basically your girlfriend, without the labels or whatever. There isn’t another word for what we were.”

“No,” he agrees, dwelling for a moment too long on those moments of domesticity, the quiet mornings drinking coffee on your front lawn, the afternoons spent hanging the laundry and throwing stray socks at one another. “And that was fucking scary. I was way too scared, when you said you loved me that morning, way too scared to admit what I really, really wanted.”

“Which was?” you ask, arms still firmly crossed.

“Oh, come on,” he scoffs. “You know what I-”

“Say it.”

“You-

“Say it.”

He breathes, defeated, and looks at you dead in the eye.

“I love you,” he tells you. “I loved you then, and I love you now, and I have no idea what to do about it.”

You deflate, your arms going lax, face surprised as though you didn’t expect him to actually do it, to rise to your challenge and be honest. For a flash, he feels smug, but then he remembers-

“I love you,” he repeats - the feeling of the words rolling off his tongue is unbearable, they’re too heavy, they won’t stop falling - “but you deserve better than me.”

You breathe sharply through your nose in frustration.

“Why are you here then?”

“What?”

“If I deserve better than you,” you repeat, finally releasing the tightness of your crossed arms and planting your palms on your knees, “why are you here? To torture me? Not satisfied with the last six fucking months, huh?”

“No, I-”

“Well, Eddie-” You spit his name like it’s gone bad and it twists something inside him. “-I’m fucking fed up of you and your… How mean you are. You’re always so mean to me and I hate that I cried over you for weeks-”

-

The door swings open and Robin rushes inside, expression tight with fear and worry.

She calls your name in a tone that drips affection as she rounds on you, where you’re standing with your weight on the wall and a hand over your face. By now it’s puffy and uncomfortable, your cheeks raw from wiping them with the sleeve of your sweatshirt.

“What happened?” she asks, holding you like you’re about to break and moving you across your house to the couch. “Did you argue? Or-”

“He left, Robs. Just left.” You sigh and it heaves like you’re sat under a crate of bricks. Robin’s heart aches, nearly cracks in two at the sight of you and the fury she feels for her stupid, good-for-nothing metalhead friend.

“Oh, honey,” she coos, wrapping you up in strong arms. As she rocks you, you cry, and she kisses the crown of your head and tells you, without much belief in it herself, that it’ll be okay.

“Steve’s on his way,” she says after ten or fifteen minutes.

“It’s okay, I’m-”

“We’re gonna stay here,” she says quickly, “just for tonight.”

You look at her, eyes glassy, and as you speak your voice cracks. “I love him, Rob.”

She looks back at you sadly, fingers gripping your hands. “I know.”

-

You’re on your feet now, pacing back and forth and he’s watching, transfixed, as your shoulders move up and down, powered by rage, understandably.

“-I cried so much because I had spent weeks working up the courage to say that to you, to admit it to you and to myself because you’re so cold, Eddie. You’re so cold and distant and I still managed to fall in love with you.”

It’s at this point that Eddie’s drifting eye, which is following you back and forth, lands on the cluster of picture frames on your windowsill. He recognises most of them - photos of the group of you, up by the lake or in Chicago, some of your family and others at special occasions. But one of them calls to him loud enough to pull his eye from you completely.

It’s a silly frame he found at the thrift store. It’s hand-painted in gaudy colours, brush strokes in swirls and bursts of yellow and purple and green. And behind the glass is a picture Wayne had taken one day when you were at his trailer, watching movies on the couch.

It’s a polaroid, as most of your photos are, bright cracks of colour and light caused by the window right by his head - his head which is looking straight ahead, big wide grin and happy eyes, and you beside him, hands on one of his thighs, pushing yourself up to kiss his cheek.

It’s only when you stop pacing and, more noticeably, stop talking that he realises anything is wrong. His face is wet and there are new drops of water on the table - not the drying rainwater from his hair, but one or two drips from his jaw.

“Are you crying?” you ask, hands on your hips.

“Huh?” He asks, wiping his face with his wrist. “I, uh… Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I just-”

His eyes flicker upwards and past you, to somewhere you follow with your own gaze. It lands on the photo and you start, cheeks flushing warm.

Suddenly, the anger lingering in the room, filling the air and his lungs and almost definitely yours, dissipates. It doesn’t disappear as such - you’re still seething, breathing loudly, but it’s like someone cracked a whip and the dust lifted.

He calls your name and you look at him, wide-eyed.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you earnestly. “I’m really, really sorry.”

You breathe out slowly and he watches your chest deflate as you take a step to sit back down. As you sit he rises, stepping over to you on unsure feet. He’s tentative, waiting - expecting - an adverse reaction.

You watch him as he gets closer and lowers himself to the ground.

“You are not about to-”

“I’m not getting on my knees, if that’s what you’re gonna say,” he says, and his tone is light - too light for his liking, but he catches the twitch in the corner of your mouth and something warm blooms in one of the chambers of his heart.

He squats beside you, resting his weight on one hand on the table. He keeps the other to himself, fingers spread over his bent knee.

“I’m an asshole. In fact, I’ve been all of those things you said, and I don’t think I’ll ever be sorry enough for you. But I… I’ve had all this time, and some… intense conversations with Rob and Steve, and I… I want to try to be sorry enough. Or to just make it up to you, somehow. Because I can’t… It’s too hard, doing all of this without you.”

He knows how this must look, him on the ground, soggy socks and soggier hair, staring at you like a lost puppy. But the way your eyes soften, and the familiar feeling of the brush of your fingertips over the damp skin of his bare wrist, is enough to make him go limp.

“What’d they say?” you ask him, watching your own fingers where they trace aimless strokes.

“Hm?”

“Rob and Steve. What’d they say?”

He laughs lightly, embarrassed.

“Uh, that I’m an asshole. In fact, Rob, she made sure to tell me that multiple times. Basically every time I saw her. And Steve, he… He’s such a good dude, you know? But I… I disappointed them, and myself, and you. I hurt you so bad and I don’t know where to put all this guilt I have.”

Neither of you are looking at one another, but you chuckle, thinking about Robin. Her loyalty makes your head spin. And Steve, with his heart of gold, who held you all those times you cried and fought silently between his anger at Eddie and his love for you.

“I love them,” you whisper, your fingers halting. The pad of your thumb hovers over the protruding joint, stroking it softly until you feel the thrum of his pulse under your own. Your fingers wrap the opposite way, until you’re holding his arm like a bracelet.

You squeeze and he sucks a quick breath in.

“You really hurt me, Eddie,” you tell him, lifting his arm off the table. He wobbles and uses his free hand to steady himself on your chair, the knuckle of his thumb meeting the side of your thigh for just a second. You manoeuvre his hand into your lap, where you lay it flat. You both stare at it and all he can hear is your breathing and the rush of blood past his ears.

“I know I did,” he says. “I can go, if you want.”

You hum and begin tracing the lines on his palm. “It’s gonna take a while,” you say.

“What is?”

“Making it up to me.”

His eyes move without permission to your face, where he finds a barely-there smile and the beginnings of the crows feet by your eyes.

“Forever,” he says, knowing you’re right - it’ll take a long, long time.

“Forever.”

“I must’ve been crazy,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

“Hm?”

Your fingers are still now, resting on his, and he finally moves his own. His knees are burning from squatting and the balls of his feet are digging into something sharp under the linoleum, but he’s not thinking too hard about any of it. He takes your hands in his and holds them, backs of your palms to the front of his. He dips his head and kisses your left wrist and then your right, lingering to feel the thump of your heart.

“I am crazy,” he says. “I let you go.”

“You left me,” you correct him. “I never wanted to go.”

He looks up at you and pales when he sees the tears. Your eyes are wet and red round the edges and he thinks to himself that you’ve been doing this, crying over him, for six months. And it’s his fault.

The two of you move quickly and without thought. His knees buckle, giving into the strain he’s been putting on them for so long, and as he hits the floor he tightens his grip on you without meaning to. You’re pulled off your chair with a yelp and a clatter, landing in his lap with your knee dangerously close to his crotch.

Hands paw and wipe tears and you lift your leg to plant it beside him. As you stabilise yourself his arms come around you, too quickly at first; so quick he worries you’ll push him off, tell him to go fuck himself. They’re met by yours, though, coming around his back.

“I’m sorry,” he says into your hair. “I’m so sorry.”

You say nothing, and instead push your face further into his shoulder.

He feels and hears you sniffling, so he pulls you back gently. Some of his hair sticks to your face and you wipe your nose unceremoniously with the back of your hand, scoffing at him when you see he’s smiling at you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you tell him, looking away.

“Like what?”

“Like… That.”

“I don’t-”

“You have that look,” you say, groaning. And then you reach up to hold his face, and he caves, bowing into you in every way he can. “You’re so fucking pretty and it’s the worst.”

“You’re one to talk,” he tells you, enjoying the way you flush.

“Always the charmer.”

“It’s true,” he says. “Never seen anyone as pretty as you.”

He leans into your palm and twists just so, lips brushing the heel of it in a quick kiss.

“Flattery won’t get you out of this,” you tell him, your smile deceiving you only slightly.

“I know,” he says. “But it might help me.”

You’ve been inching closer to his face, and now you’re all he sees. You’ve taken up his field of vision, your breath brushing past the end of his nose.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

“Wow,” you laugh, “Steve taught you how to be a gentleman since I last saw you or somethin’?”

“Stop- You’re ruining this.”

“Sorry,” you say, still laughing. “You were just never the kind to be so… chivalrous.”

“I’m hardly being chivalrous,” he says, matching your smile. “But now you mention it, yeah, actually.”

You lean back only slightly but it’s enough to make him deflate, unhappy at the new distance.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I mean… I was an asshole, as we’ve established. Needed to learn my manners again.”

“What did he say?”

“Can we please talk about this later? I just wanna-”

“No,” you say, grinning now. “I want to know.”

He groans, the hand he has spread across your back to hold you up tensing.

“I dunno, he just… He really did a number on me, y’know, telling me how I did everythin’ wrong and that I…”

He’s gone coy and you’re relishing in it.

“You what?”

“I… Steve called me a fuckboy.”

You bark out a laugh so loud Eddie flinches, but then he watches as you carry on laughing, nearly bent double, eyes all crinkled just the way he likes, the way he’s missed terribly.

“What’s so funny?!”

“It’s true,” you say. “It’s so true! Robin, Steve, I mean, we love you, obviously, you’re our friend, but like… They did say when you and me started, y’know… That I was in for it, that you’d break my heart, and I told them they were crazy ‘cause it was just sex, right? But then I realised maybe it wasn’t just sex, when you basically started living here, and we were more like… I dunno, like a couple… But they were right!”

He looks at you, aghast.

“They told you all of that?”

“Yeah! I mean, they were right, huh?”

“Yeah, I just… I didn’t know it was that bad, that they’d be able to notice that kinda thing.”

“You know,” you say, fingers tapping patterns up his chest. “Steve told me somethin’ else, a few months back.”

“Oh, god,” he groans, mind reeling through the thousands of things this could be.

“It’s not bad,” you say. “Well, it’s not one of the bad things. There were still bad things.”

“Right.”

“He said… He said he’s known you for, what, like three years now? And in all that time, before you and me met, you’d always have different girls, were known as a bit of a player at school…”

“Christ, okay.”

“But after you left me, Steve said he’d never seen you be so… Alone.”

Eddie looks at you in shock, so frightened by what else Steve may have said, but also by how you’re relaying this to him. Calm, stoic, unfeeling.

“I mean… I haven’t, y’know, slept with anyone else, if that’s what you-”

“I know,” you say. “I just… It makes it feel more real, you know?”

“I know I’m gonna be spending the rest of my life making sure you know I’m sorry,” he says, breathing out through his nose slowly, “but I mean it. I’ll do it. For the rest of my life. There isn’t anyone else. I’ll forego women, relationships, whatever… ‘Cause I won’t have time. Will be too busy makin’ it up to you.”

He noses at your neck, trying with everything he has to hold himself back from kissing you. The air around the two of you feels thick with laboured breaths and unsaid things - so many unsaid things, things he’ll tell you one day and other things he’s sure he’ll hear from you.

“So can I?” he murmurs into the warm skin above your collarbone, lips only a hair from making contact.

He feels your fingers come around the back of his neck, taking root at the nape where his hair starts. They curl around it, tugging him up, and then you do the dance - the one that always happened between the two of you in these moments. You dip in, so close, and back out, ebbing like a riverbank. It drives him crazy and he knows that you know it, so he smiles, and it’s only then that you finally kiss him.

As you move against him, lips and hands and chest and thighs, he lets his eyes close and his tongue move with yours, and thinks that this - kissing you - is much better when he’s being honest.

-

[saintslewis]

❝ in the end ❞

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x black fem! driver reader

summary: two childhood best friends that the world absolutely fell in love with but are they ever going to fall in love with each other?

warnings: swearing, cussing, reader age description

saint’s notes: another indirect request from the lovely @bbymelsworld about the knight in mercedes armour, lewis! i hope you everyone enjoys this and sorry for typos!

taglist: @thisismeracing

social media au.

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, zendaya and 8,738,938 others

yourusername thank you Bahrain, until next time 🩷

view comments

user i need the both of them in a way that is concerning to feminism

user ayo????

user MOTHER AND FATHER

user how the fuck are you 36 and you better tell me all your secrets

yourusername i have a youth fountain in my backyard, srry 😣

user what i wanna know is how you kept this friendship for 20 YEARS?!

icebox we absolutely loved making your matching grillz! we can’t wait for the next visit ❤️

landonorris thanks for the overtake on the track, mum🫶🏽

yourusername you’re very welcome, son 🥰

yourfriend cuteeeee 😋

liked by yourusername

lewishamilton now why is that picture on here?

yourusername bc you were so excited to talk about dinosaurs to someone other than me

lewishamilton is that why you took my credit card? 😭

yourusername thank you for my new wigs btw 🤭🫶🏽

lewishamilton did you at least get a pink one like i’ve been waiting for?

yourusername and platinum blonde

lewishamilton all is forgiven, sweetie

user do they know that they’re in love or?

user i’m just waiting for the soft launch tbh

fan that’s at least half a million on her wrist lol

mercedesamgf1 we’re super proud of you! 🥳

liked by yourusername

fan girl, you hidin these archives of Lew to yourself???

yourusername they gotta be used at the right time so basically, yes ❤️

twitter

lewishamilton

liked by f1, georgerussell63 and 3,838,919 others

lewishamilton :) ❤️

view comments

user oh that’s not-

fan i love you but please be so fucking fr

neymarjr congrats bro! 🫵🏽❤️

user ofc you would know a thing or two about this, loser

user isn’t she that one influencer who started some shit on a sponsored trip because the person paired with her was black?

user are you starting shit or are you being serious?

user so serious, i remember seeing this trend on tiktok

hisgirlfriend ❤️

liked by lewishamilton

user so he’s not even going to reply to her damn comment? 😭

user it’s bc these two aren’t meant to be 😭

user why are people being so mean in the comments? let him live

fan this is upsetting me and my homegirls DEEPLY

fan #lewisandyn4eva

fan #lewisandyn4eva

fan #lewisandyn4eva

badgalriri #lewisandyn4eva

user RIHANNA?!

ynfan ik y/n’s heart is so broken, they were endgame

ynfan lewis better watch his back fr

yourusername

liked by arianagrande, sza and 5,828,829 others

yourusername time to myself + a little treat for myself

view comments

user GYATTTT

lilymhe HELLO????

yourusername hi Lily 😋

user ‘a little treat’ and it’s a g wagon, oh to be y/n 😫

champagnepapi i needa learn the basics of f1

yourusername LMFAOOOOO

fan omg he didn’t even like the picture, what have we come to?

fan the heartbreak we’re having

charles_leclerc hey y/n, wanna go to a museum?

yourusername do you think they have a cry room there?

centralcee woah

user DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT

michaelbjordan 😫

user SHE’S COLLECTING THESE MEN LIKE POKÉMON LMAOOOOO

prada 🥰🤍

carlossaniz55 mi madre says hi

yourusername hi Mama Sainz 😋

user not Drake literally reposting this and putting the ring emoji????

user he delulu just like us omg

sza i would quit my job for you if you asked

yourusername SZA NO DON’T

beyonce ❤️

“Lewis Hamilton has broken up with influencer girlfriend, sources say.”

three months later

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, pharrell and 9,252,739 others

yourusername you’ve been hiding in plain sight then appeared, oh i know 🤍

view comments

lewishamilton i love you so much, my princess ❤️

yourusername i love you and btw i left you some stir fry for when you get back ❤️

zendaya FUCKING FINALLY

landonorris WEDDING WHEN

lewishamilton we actually eloped last month but we’re planning the official wedding :)

user THEY LITERALLY DATED FOR LIKE TWO MONTHS AFTER THAT AND NOW THEY’RE MARRIED?!

user how are they married after two months?? that’s so short

user they’ve literally been best friends for 20+ years…

cleosol so grateful to be part of the proposal, love you two

liked by yourusername

user THE PINK WIG REFERENCE OMGGGG

user now THIS is friends to lovers done perfectly

user Lewis and Y/n, did you two get podium because you two just got married? 🤨

lewishamilton yes.

yourusername yes and because we’re amazing drivers

pharrell congratulations you two! 🤍

marsaimartin MY PARENTS Y’ALL

landonorris actually, they’re my parents 🫤

marsaimartin did they ever pick you up from school?

landonorris yourusername pls confirm this????

yourusername 🫣

lewishamilton • 44 min

[livvidaloca]

what!? liv made human designs for the watterson family again!? yes, she did, and here’s her train of thought for these under the cut:

so, these are actually for my fic that i’m writing on ao3 in which gumball finds himself transported to another universe in which everyone is a human after the events of the inquisition. this is why there’s very few animal traits on any of them, or magically colored anime hair. i wanted them to look like people who could exist and walk around.

in this, nicole is blasian and richard is a white latino (with frankie being white non-latino and jojo being latina). (also these headcanons were based on a lot of convos with some of my friends back in the day, i don’t remember anyone’s reasonings for these but they’ve been true for so long in my brain) gumball and anais are mixed, and i tried to nod to gumball taking more after nicole and anais taking more after richard without making them carbon copies. and then darwin of course is black thats just canon

as for their designs themselves, i’ll start with nicole. i tried to make her look decently muscular (although the simplistic style i used doesn’t exactly show it off). her blue bandana and shoes are obviously a nod to her canon design, so she doesn’t look like an entirely different character. as for her hairstyle i looked into relatively low-maintenance styles, since she’s a busy woman! and her hair is starting to gray from all that STRESS!

richard’s design is the most straightforward, yet it took me the longest because i was never satisfied with how it was turning out. i’m still not sure if i’m crazy about it. all i know is that i was dead set on making him bald, since there’s literally a whole episode about that. I didn’t commit all the way because the design without any hair was making me lose my mind. i gave him some freckles as a nod to his whiskers because they’re a lot more prominent than nicole’s (which is why she doesn’t have any). this also translated to gumball’s design. also, how could i ignore the obvious choice and not give him pink bunny slippers!? it fits him so well!

gumball was fairly easy for me, because i kinda always have human designs for him in mind. i always give him those blue sneakers because duh, and i always give him dyed-blue hair that he visibly doesn’t maintain. i always had this human-version-only headcanon that gumball BEGGED to dye his hair for the longest time, and nicole finally allowed it on the condition that he’d keep up with it on his own. he didn’t. classic gumball

darwin’s design is also usually an easy one for me. big orange hoodie, green shorts and sneakers. this time i also made the decision to have his hair tied up to resemble his little fin. it’s not really visible with their clothes and stuff blocking the original sketch, but i also tried to make his legs a little bit lankier than gumball’s, just to make them appear longer like they are in the show.

as for anais, i always have trouble nailing the design without it looking like a completely different character. i cant dye her hair pink, because she’s supposed to be four, but i also can’t give her pink shoes, because she’s of course the only one who actually has shoes! then i remembered ribbons and my day was saved. still not sure if i’m completely sold on her design yet, though. i think she looks a little older than four.

anyways, i’m planning on doing other designs like these with other characters! let me know if you’re interested. as for that fic, here’s the link:

[sockablock]

Rating: General Audiences (No Archive Warnings Apply) Words: 2,181 Summary: Wedding preparations are going off without a hitch until Senshi asks Falin whether her parents are coming. Marcille’s hands freeze mid-daisy twist. Chilchuck closes his eyes and waits. Kabru, who had given up on weaving hours ago and was mostly just watching the others make garlands, quietly casts his gaze to Laios. (or: Laios, Falin, and Marcille talk about parents.)

Wedding preparations are going off without a hitch until Senshi asks Falin whether her parents are coming.

Marcille’s hands freeze mid-daisy twist. Chilchuck closes his eyes and waits. Kabru, who had given up on weaving hours ago and was mostly just watching the others make garlands, quietly casts his gaze to Laios.

“I’ll have to know how much to mutton to serve,” Senshi continues. “Or would they prefer the eel serpent instead?”  

Marcille can practically hear Chilchuck counting to ten under his breath. He only makes it to eight before Falin says, “Oh…I haven’t actually heard back from them yet—”

And Laios starts, “Of course they’re not—Falin, you what? You didn’t—”

“Yes,” Marcille interjects. “She invited them.”

Laios stands up so fast that his chair falls over and he hits the table. His robe send daisies scattering to the ground. “Wh—but…why would you do that?”

“Because they’re our parents, Laios,” Falin looks up at him. “They should be here when I get married.”

His expression darkness. “No they shouldn’t. Your wedding day is supposed to be happy.”

“It’s what she wants,” Marcille says, surprisingly forcefully. “It’s what will make her happy.”

“What do you know?” Laios snaps.

Marcille gasps. “I—that’s—” She seems too stunned or angry to speak. For a moment after, the garden is quiet as a graveyard, everyone fixed in horrified place.

Then Marcille shoots up and slaps the table. “It’s my wedding too!” she says.

“They’re our parents!”

“So what? You won’t even have to talk to them! They’ll be seated somewhere else!”

“Have you already thought this through? Why haven’t you said anything?”

“Because we knew you’d be—”

Laios turns to Falin, utterly betrayed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Falin looks like she’s about to cry, which is when Chilchuck and Kabru, acting almost in unison, grab Senshi and say, “Let’s go check on Izutsumi,” and half-drag, half-run themselves out of the garden.

Falin twists the edge of her shirt in her lap. Marcille huffs loudly. “See? This is exactly what we wanted to avoid—”

“Marcille,” Falin says.

“Huh?”

She takes Marcille’s hand. “Can you give us a second?”

Marcille starts. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Laios has fixed his glower at the ground to staunchly avoid looking at Marcille.

She sighs. “Okay, fine. But seriously, if you need me, I’ll be right over—”

Falin squeezes her hand. “I know. Thanks.”

With one last glance –now wavering between righteousness and nervous regret – Marcille trudges out of the courtyard.

The energy seeps out of Laios in that moment, though his anger clearly remains. He sits down and grabs a daisy, comically tiny in his large, worn hands, and starts pinching the stem.

“I…when did you ask them?”

Falin walks around the stone picnic table to sit next to her brother. She spends most of her time barefoot these days – if she can get away with it – and hardly makes a sound as she moves.

Her shoulder bumps Laios’s. He doesn’t lean into it, but doesn’t shift away.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier. I wrote to them right after we settled the date. I didn’t want…I know letters can take a while to reach them, so I didn’t want them to miss it.”

“I don’t know why you’re still writing to them,” Laios bites. It has less edge than before, though. “It’s not like they care.”

“That’s not true—” Falin begins.

“They sent you away!”

“They did everything they could first,” Falin says. She tries to firm her voice up as they begin treading on old ground, though it occurs to her that they’ve never spoken this plainly about it before. “And it was for the best, especially after you…” She bites her lip. Then flinches as her fangs draw a bead of blood.

“Falin!” Laios says, looking alarmed. “Are you okay?”

She wipes at her mouth. “Don’t worry, brother.” She tries for a smile. “I still forget I have these sometimes.”

Falin knows Laios well enough to see him grapple with the urge to say something about dragon-chimera teeth sharpness while also stay mad enough to be taken seriously.

“I am really sorry,” Falin says again before Laios can pass out from the internal struggle. “You’re right. I should have said something.”

Laios’s shoulders slump. He sighs and reaches for another daisy.

“I do know why you’re still writing to them,” he admits, tying two stems together. “I know that the way you feel about them is different than the way I do. It is your wedding. If you want them there, that’s all that matters.”

She puts a hand on his shoulder. “I wasn’t trying to hide it from you. I was only going to bring it up if they said they were coming, otherwise I would have worried you for nothing. But…I ended up hiding it from you anyway, and that was wrong.”

“Would you have uninvited them if I asked you to?”

“Of course,” Falin says immediately. “I want you to have a good time too. It’s important to me that it’s a happy day for everyone I care about.”

Laios manages a tiny grin at that. He holds up the start of his flower chain. “You know, if you’re worried about how long it’s taking them to answer, I can just summon them here. I am the king of a whole country, after all.” Then his face goes slack. “You’ve told them I’m the king, right?”

“Er…”

Laios groans when Falin trails off. “They don’t even know yet?”

“They might,” Falin says quickly. “I’ve written to them and said that you beat the Lord of the Dungeon and people really like you for it. And Chilchuck says that pretty much everyone in the world has heard the story by now.” At Laios’s expression, Falin amends, “Maybe not everyone. Maybe just…mostly everyone.”

Laios sighs. “I really hate being king, you know. Well—that’s not what I mean. It’s important to me that I’m able to change people’s minds and make a place where everyone I care about is happy. And I know I can only do that because I’m the king. But…I didn’t even care about all that ‘leadership’ stuff when we were kids, let alone now.”

“That’s what makes you a good at it,” Falin says.

“I know,” Laios’s mouth quirks. “That’s what Kabru and Marcille keep—oh, Marcille. Shoot. I need to talk to her.”

Laios moves to stand, but Falin reaches a hand out and catches him by the wrist. “Wait,” she says. “About that—”

“I know,” Laios groans, “I shouldn’t have yelled—”

“No,” Falin says. “It’s not just that. Has she…talked to you about her invitations yet?”

“Huh?” Laios blinks. “Oh, uh, no. Why?”

Falin’s gaze casts downward. “She was defending me, but it’s not only that. You should ask her about it.”

“Uh, okay,” Laios says. “Is that all?”

Falin lets go of his sleeve. “Yep.”

***

Laios finds Marcille sullenly conjuring little butterflies out of the courtyard’s central fountain and making them chase each other around the statue of a particularly ugly fish. When she notices him approaching, the butterflies all shake and collapse into waves of water.

She waits until he’s a few feet away from her before saying, “I know you think it’s going to be awful, but ever since Falin sent the invitation I’ve been thinking really hard about this. There’s lots of tables, and you’ll be next to Falin and me at the head one, so if we put some decorative hedges between us, you won’t even be able to see them.”

“I don’t think Falin would have invited our parents just to hide them behind a bush the whole night,” Laios says. “Can I sit?”

Marcille eyes him warily, then exhales. Her ears droop when the tension leaves her. “I owe you an apology, don’t I?”

Laios sits in the grass and leans against the edge of the fountain next to Marcille’s staff. “I do too. Um, maybe even more than one, right?”

“What do you mean?”

Laios rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, I don’t actually know. Falin was kind of vague about it.”

“Did she tell you about my mom?” Marcille says, suddenly rigid again.

“Oh” Laios says, now incredibly out of his depth. “No?”

“Oh.” Marcille slumps.

Laios nudges her leg in a sign of peace. “Has something about your mother been bothering you?” His mouth opens when the clues finally line up. “Oh, Marcille. Is she not coming?”

Marcille knocks her staff over when she leans down to grab Laios around the neck and start to cry.

“Sff…yes…I mean…no. But it’s—it’s more complicated than that.”

Laios adjusts his position so he can pat Marcille on the back. Teary rivulets stick to the fur of his cloak.

“Marcille…I’m so sorry.”

“She…it’s not that she doesn’t want to be there. Not at all.” Marcille sniffs. “But—politically, it’s really hard for her right now. The human court she works for is basically controlled by the Western Elves. And they aren’t exactly our enemies, but they’ve made it pretty clear that they’re watching us carefully. And…I’m technically criminal, and even though Falin is the king’s sister, pretty much everyone knows she’s a chimera, which my mom doesn’t care about, but lots of other people do, so…”

“So she can’t come,” Laios says.

“No,” Marcille says. “But it’s not yours or Falin’s faults,” she adds with the next breath. “Seriously, I don’t want either of you beating yourselves up about it. It’s just the way things are. And my mom would probably want to bring her new husband with her anyway, which…” Marcille makes an expression that is only worsened by her red cheeks and runny nose.

Laios chooses not to ask Marcille to elaborate, instead passing her a handkerchief. Marcille blows her nose loudly.

“I just thought that if neither of my parents could be there, at least yours and Falin’s could.”

The fountain burbles gently behind them.

“Right,” Laios says.

“You’re lucky, you know,” Marcille adds quietly. “Not that—no, I’m not saying you should be grateful, or anything, and I don’t really approve of the way they treated your or Falin either. I mean, they’re old enough to know better.”

“Uh, right,” Laios says, slightly less certainly.

“I wish it was easier,” Marcille finishes. “That’s all.”

The two of them sit together in silence for a moment, watching pale wisps of clouds trail across the afternoon sky.

“What if she wore a disguise?” Laios says eventually, breaking the spell.

Marcille snorts in surprise. “What?”

“Or casts an illusion spell. She can, right? Then no one would even have to know.”

“I—I guess I didn’t think of that.”

“You were busy trying to figure out how to put my parents up a tree?”

“It wouldn’t have been up a tree!” Marcille laughs and slaps Laios on the shoulder. “If they’re going to be my in-laws, I at least want them to like me.”

“Did you know Falin hasn’t even told them I’m a king, yet?”

“She told me she wasn’t sure if you wanted them to know, so she didn’t mention it.”

Laios and Marcille share a look. “That sounds like Falin,” Laios says.

“Do you want them to know?” Marcille asks. “It might actually be good for us, especially since the North is usually so apolitical.”

“Er, is it?” Laios says, and Marcille rolls her eyes.

“Aren’t you from there?”

“I was a kid—”

“Then aren’t any of Kabru’s lessons sinking in?”

“Of course they are,” Laios says defensively. “Did you know that gnomes have a special ceremony they perform when young gnomes come of age? It’s called the—”

“I mean lessons about things other than how cool other races are. Like diplomacy? And tactics?”

Laios sinks slightly lower into the grass. “Yes,” he says petulantly.

“Really?” Marcille says.

“Sort of?”

Marcille laughs. She’s about to add something else when suddenly, loud clamoring echoes from the open hall opposite the courtyard and Izutsumi shouts her way into view, closely trailed by Chilchuck, Senshi, and Kabru, all urgently trying to pull her back.

“—do you mean, not now? I didn’t waste all that time picking daisies for nothing—oh, there they are!”

“No, seriously—” Chilchuck begins, then they all freeze when they spot Laios and Marcille.

“Oh,” Kabru blinks. “Is…are we interrupting anything?”

“We can come back,” Senshi adds. “I get it now.” He also winks, which is more confusing.

“It’s okay,” Marcille calls back. “Actually, we should all get back to the table, now. We’ve been slacking for long enough!”

“Did I miss something?” Izutsumi asks. “Why isn’t anyone working on the necklaces?”

“They’re not necklaces,” Marcille sighs. “They’re garlands. Falin says that in the North—”

“Why don’t we let her explain it?” Laios stands. “Come on. We should probably make a few extra too, just in case. So it’s good you brought more daisies, Izutsumi.”

"You're welcome," she preens.

And then they all go together to find Falin.

[alphacrone]

Lucy’s skirts were a problem. 

It wasn’t that they got in the way during jobs. On the contrary, Lucy seemed to have the best range of motion out of everyone at Lockwood & Co. George’s baggy jeans tended to catch on corners and trip up his steps, and Lockwood’s and Kipps’ tight trousers did, admittedly, restrict their flexibility. A short skirt with leggings underneath gave Lucy the freedom to duck and jump and spin without issue.

“Why are you telling me this?” Holly asked, stirring a dollop of honey into her tea. “Are you seeking my advice?” 

“Yes,” Lockwood said. George was at the Archives, Kipps was out meeting Flo, and Lucy was picking up a Satchell’s order. It was the perfect time to consult his only rational, discrete friend. “The skirts are distracting. How do I ask her to wear trousers without coming off as-”

“-as a raging misogynist?” Holly sucked the remaining honey off her spoon. “Can I ask you something?” 

Lockwood nodded. “Of course.” 

Holly gave him a cruel smile. “Did you realize I also wear skirts on jobs?” 

Obviously, Lockwood knew this. But Holly’s skirts were different! They were longer and, er…bright colors…and…and…

“You do,” he heard himself say. “Why aren’t your skirts distracting?” 

“Hmm.” Holly hummed into her cup, looking far too smug. Lockwood had the childish urge to tug on her ponytail. “I don’t know, Lockwood. Why aren’t my skirts distracting?” 

“Shit.” Lockwood ran a hand through his hair. It was bad enough he was probably being sexist; now he was treating his employees unequally? “I don’t- What is wrong with me, Hol?” 

To his surprise, Holly laughed. It was a pretty sound, light and tinkling; it reminded him of Jessica’s. His sister had been just as sweet, and just as amused by his failures. “What about her skirts distract you?” 

“They’re so- I don’t know.” Lockwood sighed. “Short? People are always staring.” 

“Are they?” Holly sipped her tea. “I’ve never noticed.” 

“Well you have manners,” Lockwood insisted. “You wouldn’t. But other agents do-”

“Other boys?” Holly asked innocently. 

He paused. He opened his mouth. He closed his mouth. Holly did not break eye contact. 

“Maybe,” he finally relented. 

“Okay,” she said, setting her cup down. “Now we’re getting somewhere.” 

“I feel awful about it,” Lockwood said. “It’s never caused a problem on the job. I just hate the way they look at her.” He traced his fingers over one of Lucy’s sketches on the Thinking Cloth, a rather rude caricature of George. (They were currently fighting over the brand of digestives Lucy had bought during her last grocery run, he believed.) 

“Do you hate it because you’re afraid for Lucy’s safety?” Holly asked slowly. “Or because you’re jealous?” 

The back of Lockwood’s neck burned. “Jealous?” He asked, clearing his throat. “Jealous of what?” 

In a moment of surprisingly unladylike manners, Holly rolled her eyes and huffed. “You like her, Lockwood. You love her. When other boys look at her legs you get insanely jealous and it’s distracting you.” 

“No!” He gaped at her. “I’m not- It’s not-”

“Boys look at my legs, too,” Holly said smugly. “They ask me out all the time when we’re on jobs. They do it in front of you and you don’t even notice. But if Kipps speaks to Lucy for too long…” She trailed off. 

“Kipps is a prick,” Lockwood said crossly. 

“Kipps isn’t the issue,” Holly countered. 

“Fine!” Lockwood let out a sharp huff. “Fine! I’m jealous! But what can I do about it?” 

Holly looked like he’d finally cracked. “You ask her out,” she said. “You talk to her.” 

“Right.” He paused. “And I don’t ask her to wear trousers, right?” 

“No!” Holly rubbed at her temple. “Just tell her how you feel. About her. Not her skirts.” 

“Of course.” Lockwood gave Holly a genuine smile. “Thank you.” 

“Trust me,” she said. “I’m doing us all a favor.” 

Lockwood didn’t want to think deeply on what she meant by this. He wanted to find Lucy as quickly as possible. 

They both started as they heard the front door open. “I’m back!” Lucy called down the hall. “Come help me carry shit!” 

Lockwood jumped to his feet, making Holly laugh again. He ignored her and the way she smirked at him as he left. Lucy was home, and he had some things to say. 

[howlsofbloodhounds]

hello! i am brand new to everything about undertale au's, by so i mean maybe two months in. it's quickly become one of my favorite things, and while i mostly focus on the apple twins, i've grown to love killer a lot. i thought this might be a good place to ask, can you explain him to me? from backstory to what the the different stages are (this mostly). i know very little about him, and this is an issue, so feel more than free to go into crazy detail if you want, or even throw in personal thoughts. learning about him pleases me

Hello! I will try to answer, but i feel it is first important to state two things.

1. Killer has a lot of lost media, a lot of his canon information and materiel was deleted—including an entire ask blog. So if someone ever claims something about Killer is true, it’s probably best to ask for some sort of proof for this. Such as a link or a screenshot from his creator, rahafwabas.

2. Rahafwabas has also said that every interpretation of Killer can be canon. She was very loose and free with her character, and just wanted people to have fun. So don’t worry too much about sticking close to what little remains of canon.

What we have of Killer’s canon now is basically his Something New comics (origin), a few more scattered comics and drawings here and there, and some fun facts.

I have links to some of Killer’s canon stuff in the top of my pinned post if you want to give it a look, but if not, here is a link to a Google Doc someone made about canon Killer (I didn’t make it.) It’s also no guarantee that every single thing has been found and archived.

That being said! I will give a summary of the first origin, before the updated one that involved the Player and how we altered Sans’ codes to create kill_sans. Undertale: Something New has multiple endings as well, but I won’t get into that just yet. Because this is just about Killer, not how he met Nightmare or Color or any of that.

In Rahafwabas’ own words, Something New was described as something along the lines of how, after going through so many Resets—being constantly killed, fighting, watching everyone die, repeating multiple different days and outcomes over and over—Sans eventually shuts down emotionally and stops caring, loses hope, and becomes like the human.

The human notices, and starts proposing something new. A deal. Sans joins them on a Genocide, and they’ll stop Resetting and let the world move on—Sans wants to continue, or stop (die, erase the world), is what the human says he wants.

Sans spits in their face and refuses. The human brutally and violently murders him in response.

Rinse and repeat for a couple thousand unknown Resets—and something changes one day. Suddenly, Sans is thinking about something new. He’s thinking about how everyone deserves to die anyway—they’re all weak, he can’t save them, Papyrus is so fucking lucky.

Who cares anymore.

The thoughts happen so slow he doesn’t catch it—so focused on trying to tune the kid out, even as their words work their way into his mind and nothing feels real. Sometimes he catches his thoughts, confused and distressed—because it’s not true. He doesn’t hate Papyrus, he doesn’t want to join the kid or kill anyone.

And yet something in his minds insists he does, in his own voice, in his own thoughts. Perhaps it wasn’t uncommon to find Sans arguing to himself with increasing distress and confusion, even. Arguing as if he’s two different people.

His mind starts slipping, he can’t tell what is and isn’t real anymore. Is he going insane? Is he losing his mind? Has the kid done something to him?

Or is this just genuinely what he wants. He didn’t think he was like that. He’s not, surely.

“Am i going insane?” “Heh. Yeah.”

“This isn’t right..” “But we don’t have a choice.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore..” “Yes I do.”

Whatever. Who cares anymore. Not him. Not him.

Eventually it all comes to a head when Sans, all big dead eyes and empty smiles, shakes the devil’s hand and gets to hunting. We don’t get to see all of the first Genocide route, but we see Sans kill Flowey, Grillby, and eventually..Papyrus.

I won’t spoil the entire scene because I personally find it devastating enough to read on your own. The moment where we see how manipulated Sans has become—manipulated into hating and despising his own brother, enough to gleefully reveal he has been dreaming about this moment. Where he gets to make Papyrus experience even half of the pain Sans went through.

It isn’t until a broken, bloody, battered Papyrus opens his arms wide and tearfully declares that he’d happily die if his presence was causing his brother so much pain, that Sans snaps back. He remembers who he is, and more importantly, he remembers who Papyrus is.

It was never an enemy. It was never his tormenter, mocking him with his happiness and safety. He was his little brother, and now he’s dead.

Because of him. And he can never undo that.

We get to see how truly fragmented and disoriented Sans has become after this—too busy arguing with himself to truly notice when Chara skillfully slides in, offering comfort and reassurance to their new partner, their new best friend, as they welcome him to the Genocide run.

From here the Genocide route continues—with some of the dialogue up above happening. We see Sans and Chara having fun with it now—tossing around a monster’s hat, laughing and cheering as they kill Undyne. Sans is confused as he laughs and smiles and giggles—he hates himself. Why is he doing this again.

he doesn’t know. He smiles as he gifts Chara a knife, and their happy surprise is perhaps enough to make him feel.

…They put on Papyrus’ scarf. He can’t help but stare. But they are right—he’s being ridiculous. He has killed his brother before.

…at least they take it off.

He confronts Alphys. But then she confronts him—…Sans, why are you doing this? Is the human making you?

Sans is confused. He’s doing all this of his own free will, right? Of course the human doesn’t have any control of this. Of course not. He’s doing this because he wants to feel something.

…Why is he even explaining himself. None of them will understand. Only Chara does.

Then there’s suddenly a feeling of someone standing behind him, watching him mournfully, when Alphys mentions him. No, he’s not real. He’s not real. He’s not real. He’s not—

Alphys is dead.

there’s no going back now, and Chara insists on just one more route. Just one more. And another and another and another and another and another and another—

He’s having so much fun! So much fun. So much fun. Chara watches on with a smile as Sans just hysterically laughs and cries and laughs and cries and laughs and—

…San is tired. He’s…exhausted. He feels drained, and empty. why is he even still here. how did he get here.

…The two continue on. There’s no more laughing or cheering or crying. It is what it is.

..Sans notices some type of black sludge sliding down his cheek one Reset (how many has it been now?…who cares). He dismisses it. Who cares.

There’s a growing, burning ache somewhere in his chest yet another Reset. The sludge slides down more frequently..

..The pain keeps growing with every single Reset. He can’t take a single step without this black sludge sliding from his eyes, his nose, his teeth. What’s happening to him? What’s happening what’s happening what’s happening—

..It hurts. It hurts so much, make it stop, please. He turns to Chara one Reset. What’s happening to me? What’s happening to me? Please, it hurts.

He can’t see Chara anymore. His vision is so blurry, they look so different. He stumbles and falls to the ground, frozen with pain and fear—unable to realize that he has fallen into a bed of golden flowers.

His SOUL hovers outside his chest, a black spot slowly, painfully growing and expanding in the middle as if a parasite is wiggling its way inside. Curling around, eating everything it can and burning away the rest. Forcing its victim into the desired state.

The only explanation Chara has for him is something along the lines of, “Your soul is becoming like mine. Neither beast nor man, and you will feel nothing. Wait here, and I’ll go deal with that stupid flower.”

Sans is left to ponder those words as he starts fading in and out from life. But then he hears laughter, someone calling his name.

Papyrus.

Sans’ last words—his last thoughts—are of Papyrus.

“Papyrus..I’m sorry. I will miss you all.”

His SOUL is filled with DETERMINATION as it snaps into the target shape. Sans dies with a pathetic mournful whimper, as Killer silently takes his place.

{ @lucid-cups }

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

my favorite scully moments from s3

walking to her mother’s house barefoot in episode 1, after having been placed on leave for her involvement in the quest to smuggle secret alien files- how she falls into her mother’s arms, says she made a terrible mistake, and that dad would be so ashamed of her (my heart melted out of my body… she did the right thing and still doubted herself 🙁)

and then even AFTER she was removed from her job, she visits skinner’s office with information on the case- when he suggests she’s just trying to get her job back, she is indignant and explains that it is about finding answers and saving her friend (she had AN INTENSE fury in her eyes that skinner would suggest that, i love when she is filled with righteous rage and driven by the quest to Do The Morally Right Thing no matter what)

attending mr. mulder’s funeral, and telling mrs. mulder she knows her son with be found, even if she isn't sure why she holds that belief

and this is STILL in episode one, but when she is convinced skinner is trying to kill her and she is NOT playing around, holding him at gunpoint- “don’t think i won’t do it, you son of a bitch”, she says, to which he replies “no, i believe you” (he knew he was in danger!!)

they need to know a certain number- napier’s constant- in episode 2 to get into the secret disease center in west virgina, and she knows it off the top of her head (it’s 27,828 for those who are curious) (when she knows random facts my heart skips some beats)

and in the same episode, when they’re about to embark on learning some dark secrets on mulder’s father in the disease center archives, scully wants to know if he will be okay, because “i just know how it would affect me” (she is so thoughtful...)

scully not believing any of the things clyde bruckman is predicting in episode 4 until he starts talking about how mulder will be attacked, and then all of a sudden she is tuned in

(and her whole relationship with bruckman- how she asks him how she’ll die even though she is terrified, and how he refuses to answer and burden her with that knowledge; how they play poker and talk about macbeth; how she feels that he has no joy in his life due to his abilities, real or imagined; how she listened to his prediction about mulder’s death and was there to save him; and how she cries when he ended his life)

“a woman gets lonely. sometimes she can’t wait around for a man to get reincarnated” <- tea (said in episode 5)

in episode 7, she is listening to a man describe his symptoms, and she writes a note and passes it to mulder. not even sure why this was so endearing to me- the combination of her Doctor Mode and seeing the tiny details of her passing notes, perhaps? but i loved it

in the same episode, the people from the military were trying to stop their investigation, and she put her foot down, point blank telling the general to “make himself available”, and calling out the obstruction and hidden details on the case. i love when she is full of righteous rage

when she saves mulder by finding the code to disarm the bomb in episode 10 by going to his house and playing his $29.95 autopsy video frame by frame... a hero on many levels

ALL OF EPISODE 11… her catholic lore dropping (how she knows the number of stigmatics in the world at one time, the saints whose bodies didn’t decompose, and how st. ignatius could be in two places at once), her connection with the little boy, him asking if she was sent to protect her and her believing it, promising she won’t let him be hurt, convincing mulder to let the kid come to the hotel with them, running him a bath (and mulder’s fake pout- “you never draw my bath”), when she becomes convinced the kid is at the recycling plant, and he is, so she saves him with a miracle... and when he says they’ll see each other again <3

the “i… believe in the idea that god’s hand can be witnessed. i believe he can create miracles, yes” “even if science can’t explain them?” “maybe that’s just what faith is” exchange with mulder

THIS NEXT ONE…

“how is it that you’re able to go out on a limb whenever you see a light in the sky, but you’re unwilling to accept the possibility of a miracle, even when it’s right in front of you?” “i wait for a miracle every day, but what i've seen here has only tested my patience, not my faith” “well, what about what i’ve seen?” (screaming. i am screaming. he is so quick to believe in anything except what she has put her faith in, and she rightfully stood up for herself against his disbelief, even if he didn't mean to be offensive, and he should take her seriously even in matters of god, and i need to stop typing or i will keep going for hours)

the way she goes to confession at the very end, telling the priest she doubts what she has seen because mulder did. and he responds that perhaps the miracles were meant just for her. how she says that she is scared that god is speaking, but no one is listening. she’s so haunted by what she has seen and the need to get justice for it, but still, god sent her a miracle, so there is hope.

screaming... i just LOVE that episode so much…

seeing her at home during episode 12- reading breakfast at tiffany’s, cleaning her gun and chatting on the phone, bathing the dog, eating ice cream out of the carton, and answering all of mulder’s obscure medical questions

and how annoyed she is with mulder’s infatuation with “dr. bambi” lmao she clocked it SO fast

in episode 15, she tears up when skinner says those above him are interested in closing her sister’s case; she becomes furious that they can seemingly solve every crime but this one (and bonus points for skinner fighting for her, even though it nearly killed him <3)

in the same episode, she immediately identifies the type of plane she is looking at as a north american p-51 mustang, because she used to watch her father and brothers build model planes

in episode 16, she visits skinner in the hospital and takes charge- making sure he is guarded at all times, that the investigation on who attacked him moves forward. and how she grabs his hand before he is wheeled into surgery and then visits him to ask how he is feeling when he wakes up

(and when she puts together that whoever shot skinner was also the person who shot her sister… truly in her detective era)

saving skinner’s life later in the episode, confronting the gunman, and how she screamed and screamed, asking if he was the one who killed her sister. god, that broke me. i need to analyze it for a few weeks

“i think the dead are speaking to us, mulder. demanding justice” <- it’s so tied to her fundamental need to do the correct thing and augh. she wants to find answers for her sister so terribly. she deserves them

in episode 17: (incredibly deadpan) “please explain to me the scientific nature of the whammy” (some people write her as too serious to be funny and it's like... are we watching the same show because she has me dying)

when she agrees with mulder’s theory that somehow the pusher is bending people to his will, even if she has no way to explain it- yet! a big moment!!!

she also immediately identifies the movie playing at the pusher’s house as svengali, further proving her horror movie fan status

(plucking a rat out of a car in episode 18) “label that” “as what?’ “partial rat body part” <- this killed me

(also, when she wipes blood off of mulder’s face in the woods... terribly intimate)

she makes a stupid joke about the organ trafficking victim leaving his heart in san francisco in episode 19 and it makes mulder laugh

her being such a big fan of jose chung in episode 20 and agreeing to meet him even though mulder refused. when he later mentions another of his books she gets so excited she says it is “one of the greatest thrillers ever written” … nerd <3

scully being mortified that she was featured in a late night television clip of an alien autopsy (she was autopsying a normal human being in an alien costume, but one thing led to another and now her face was briefly on the stupendous yappi show!! so embarrassing for a woman of science!!)

how she tells jose chung that their case might not have a lot of closure, but it's more closure than they usually get (while fidgeting with her flower-shaped earrings)

(and then when she reads his final book, she is described as “noble of spirit and pure of heart” but “nevertheless a federal employee” which had to both please her immensely and make her laugh)

there’s this moment in episode 21 where she is on the phone with mulder while driving in what looks to be a torrential downpour, and i cannot explain why it was so funny to me. it just was. she is flooring it through a damn hurricane to get there and it makes me laugh.

watching her slowly lose her grip on reality in episode 23 until she becomes convinced it was mulder who was behind her abduction… how she calls him and only flatly asks “where are you?”, how she holds mulder at gunpoint, certain he abducted her and killed her sister. how her mother finally convinces her that she is safe, which causes her to fall into her mother’s arms, sobbing. gooooooooosh...

when she hears someone was shot in episode 24 but somehoe miraculously recovered, so she just lifts up his shirt to examine his stomach without asking. it had me giggling!! she is entering Doctor Mode, decorum be damned, that dude's tummy WILL be inspected.

and then using all of her Doctor Mode knowledge to assure mulder that his mother has a chance at a good recovery, and trying to book a motel room for him to be by her side in the hospital; when he refuses and insists on going back to work, she tries to remind him he hasn’t slept in forever to no avail (these two will watch out for each other and it kills me every single time)