#perhaps i am simply a hypocrite

[fyrets]

unsure how exactly i'll feel if santae ends up beating pb's record of most funded petsim on ks

[mondaymelon]

₊˚ෆ 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 | lyney, neuvillette, wriothelsey x gn!reader

( i am fully aware snowfelt is not a word. shhhh just please. ignore it. let's have another silly year together, yeah? )

⤷ they confess to you! reader has liked them for a while beforehand, fluff to start off the year ~ (psps i kn o w its the 23rd but writer's block whammied me against a wall and held me hostage for that time so. its really not my fault /lh)

[ in the dying light of fireglow, hands intertwined below a blanket, they turn to gaze into your eyes, speaking three words... ]

"Cold, are we? Shall I warm you up?"

Ah, but the playful grin tugging at LYNEY's lips already provides you with a sufficient, kindled warmth nestled deep into your chest. The snow cascading beyond the windows, curtains half-drawn over the glass, revealed the picturesque scenery, the land that had grown familiar to you dusted with white… your thoughts were dispersed with a light shake of your head just as the winter breeze swept over the snow. 

The male smiles as you nudge yourself closer to his side, and with a swift snap of his fingers, sparks heat in the fireplace, a blaze whose flames licked the bricks of its ensnarement. Unfair, really, simply unfair, how with such an effortless movement he swept you into your arms, reddened your already flushed, cold-bitten cheeks. “Warm yet?”

“...Too warm,” you manage a complaint, voice barely audible with how tightly you were pressed against him. “You’re suffocating me, Lyney.” At your words, his seemingly unconscious vice-like grip loosened, allowing you a breath. 

“Better?”

“Better.”

The world was quiet. Silent, for not even the wind dared utter a noise. No, that couldn’t be true, for if that were the case, then what were you to make of the persistent flutter of your heart? It was the way his gaze drunk you in that allowed you to dream of such a misunderstanding that he might share the sentiment, with the sight of you cuddled tightly in his arms, your slightly messy hair after he had ruffled it and the rosy cheeks that could possibly bring the most minuscule warmth to his face. 

“Thank you.” Your voice was quiet, it felt small, too small for your liking. Why were you even thanking him? What had he done for you? A lot. Simply too many to count. With his playful demeanor, certainly someone like you wouldn’t be well suited to him. Perhaps it was just a haphazard coincidence that allowed the two of you to meet, or perhaps just a cruel twist of fate that had decided to toy with your heart before discarding it. Either way, these feelings are safeguarded, nestled along with the warmth in your chest… they were quiet.

“For what?” Lyney’s jest of a smile tugged at his lips. “Why, have you finally realized that I’m quite the respectable person after all this time?”

“No,” you playfully hit his chest. Ever since the first encounter, the male had chased after you with reckless abandon, somehow managing to find you in just about any situation you were in. Watering the flowers that lined the streets, discussing work matters with the civilians, he’d appear out of thin air beside you, almost like magic. With a boyish grin on his face and a word or two whispered into your ear, “So this is where you were~” ...You shook your head, ears only growing redder at fortunate past thoughts. “You still remain a stalker, it’d be foolish to hope for anything more.” 

To hope for something more… what a hypocrite, you were. Your own words burned your tongue, the consequence of such a sin.

“Is it wrong to hope?” Lyney’s smile remained, but his tone grew serious. The faint twinkles that shone in his lavender eyes evidently bore his “wrongful” hope. “To wish that perhaps one day, I’ll mean more than just a ‘stalker’ to you?”

Your breath hitched. Say, didn’t these words… sound familiar? Didn’t they resemble lines read from those light novels from Inazuma, covers decorated with roses and sparkles? ��Lyney, you-”

“I love you.”

Your words have escaped you. Countless, countless words. Each of them grow wings and flit away. 

“Ah, would it be too cliché to call it a love at first sight?” Lyney let loose a sigh, grinning sheepishly with a shake of his head. “But that was exactly what it was. The second I saw you… my, how generic I sound. Would it be too much to stomach if it was from that moment that I knew?” He paused, pursing his lips. They pressed into a tight line. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “I won’t be hopeful. I know better than that, and you’ve said it yourself. Let’s just… would I go too far if I wished to remain by your side? Not as a lover, surely, but a companion, or a mere acquaintance-”

“Lyney.”

His name is familiar in your mouth. It rests easy on the tongue.

“As a lover. That. That’s what… I want.”

The curve of his lips says well enough before he even opens them.

“Then, as your lover… may I kiss you?” ₊˚ෆ

“Are you feeling alright?”

His words were soft against the cold air, and NEUVILLETTE’s pale-eyed gaze even softer. Fontaine had had its first taste of snow, and with it came its cold finger tips that thoroughly dusted whatever it touched, the streets and tops of buildings painted a brilliant white.

“Yes, it’s just… Aren’t you cold like this?” The male, upon seeing you give the slightest shiver at the sudden drop in temperature, had immediately rushed over and taken off his coat for you to wear instead, where it was now draped comfortably over your shoulders. Warm, and it carried his scent. “I’d feel bad if you were to feel unwell because of me, so please, take it back?”

“Now, that’s something I simply can’t do,” His lips drew the slightest smile, a rare sight you were delighted to witness - the way his eyes crinkled at their corners and twinkled all the more was a pleasant one to experience indeed. “I’ll be fine, I can assure you. It’d take more than just a winter breeze to incapacitate me.”

You furrowed your brows, puffing out your cold-flushed cheeks before making a cross with your arms. “Nope, no can do! We’re heading back to my place, and I’ll brew some hot tea. No complaints, we’re going!” Before the man could utter another word, presumably a word of protest, you took him by his gloved hand and started running forwards. Full well, you knew Neuvillette was certainly at a better physique than you were, but you really just needed an excuse to hold his hand.

Why, exactly? The answer was rather simple.

While you weren’t enamored with him to begin with… after all, how could one be like that towards the respectable iudex of Fontaine, your curiosity got the better of you the moment you realized the stoic man suspiciously resembled one of Fontaine’s many creatures, the otter. The colors, the mannerisms, truly, it all paired up in an uncanny fashion. Somehow, along the line of approaching and getting to know him, you had caught feelings. It was almost funny, how they could sneak up on you like that while your guard was down. Except, now that you had them, what were you supposed to confess? “I started to like you when I realized you were practically an otter, love!”...Ugh, how embarrassing would that be? Imagining his handsome features scrunched with displeasure at your offense is one thing about Neuvillette you wished not to behold.

"...Ahem." Curses, you had been holding his hand for far too long to just laugh it off. You blinked yourself out of your past reminiscence, finding yourself faced with a rather concerned Neuvillette. "Apologies, you weren't responding, so..."

"No matter, are we here already?" You coughed into your first awkwardly, quickly letting go of Neuvillette's hand, however warm his touch may be. Unlocking the door, you swiftly swung it open, letting Neuvillette enter and then shutting it behind you. If you’d known that he’d be coming over - you had unconsciously invited him to your residence - you would’ve cleaned the space up a bit more. Nothing you could do about it now, you supposed. “There’s nothing special, you can make yourself at home while I go fetch some refreshments for us.”

“There’s no need for that.” Neuvillette held up a hand to stop you. “I’m quite alright, and if anything, I’d be delighted if you allowed me to brew your tea for you.”

“What? No, you’re my guest, you shouldn’t possibly-!”

“Ah ah, no complaints. I held mine back, so you should do the same, no?” Great, since when had he started getting clever with his words? “What I need you to do is to go get a blanket and sit at the fireplace. Where do you keep the tea?”

You let out a begrudging sigh. “Fifth cabinet.”

“Thank you.” You did as he asked with less than an enthusiastic self, and managed to light the fireplace before Neuvillette returned from the kitchen, carrying a tray that held two cups and a steaming teapot.

You raised an eyebrow at him as you took your cup, warm to the touch. “My, I didn’t expect you to have any complaints, dear Sir Iudex of Fontaine.”

“...Complaint? Ah,” Neuvillette’s eyes rounded when he realized what conversation you were referring to. “Hm, it’s rather embarrassing to say, however… well, since it was a precious day off, I figured I’d take you somewhere special, to the Opera House or wherever, but instead I’m here interfering in your home… it’s certainly not ideal, is it? My apologies.”

There was a moment of silence, accompanied by the crackle of flames. “Archons, is that what you were thinking with such a downcast expression?” You laughed, seeing his expression brighten. He was perhaps a little too predictable. “I don’t mind, Neuvillette. I was the one who invited you here, so there’s no need for you to feel ashamed that you accepted it. Besides…” you inched closer to him, grinning. “Every moment with you is special enough, it doesn’t take somewhere ‘special’ to make it so, hm?”

The man remained silent. Had you gone too far with your reassurance? His pale cheeks were flushed, had he become so enraged that his face had gone red? Certainly not, for he whispered your words like an echo. “A special moment, you say?” A tilt of your head was enough of a response. “Then…”

“I love you.”

“...Pardon?” The smile on your face slipped, and your ears rung with the gravity of his words. Perhaps you had grown so desperate that the only way to appease that mind of yours was to form auditory hallucinations? You had surely dropped to new, unprecedented lows.

“I love you.”

There’s just something about that gaze of his that makes you want to cry in his arms. Something about it that makes you want to be held by him, to feel the warmth that he holds in the way he simply looks at you, to bask in it like sunlight, to feel loved.

“I love..”

“There’s no need to say it again, Neuvillette.” His face falls, and his beautifully damned eyes grow wide. “I heard it the first time.” You can sense that he’s bracing himself for a response, with the way the smile on his lips draws tight and his stance grows rigid. “To think that you’d be the one confessing to me, why, this was certainly not the vision I had imagined a thousand times over in my head.”

You can see the hope in his eyes. You would never dare crush it, your heart beats for him. “I love you, Neuvillette, so repeat it just one more time, would you?”

And just like that, he melts in your arms.

“Yes, darling. I love you too.” ₊˚ෆ

“My, I didn’t expect to see you here!”

Standing up from his desk, WRIOTHESLEY’s eyes are bright with excitement. 

“So surprised, aren’t you?” You lean on his doorway with a fond smile as he embraces you in a quick hug. You smile as he draws back, “Why, am I not allowed to visit the poor duke, cooped up here with nothing but paperwork to satisfy his boredom?”

Your words were true, and they’d struck a note inside him. The Fortress of Meropide was quiet, almost too quiet these days. Sure, there was the persistent, eternal sound of turning gears and bursts of steam, and the never-ending crinkle of paper under his hands, but with most of the prisoners turning in a little earlier due to the cold, the hallways that were usually filled with chatter that he’d proclaim as “distracting” were no more. Monotonous was the crackle of the flames in the fireplace, but the sound of your eager footsteps rounding the hallways was a welcome sound indeed.

“Certainly not, I wouldn’t lie through my teeth and say that your presence is unwelcome.” His lips were curled upwards in a grin, his husky voice bearing the melody of delight. 

“I’d imagine.” That sneaky smile on your face is almost alluring in the pale light. “Stuck in this office of yours doing tedious tasks for the foreseeable future is not the ideal form of entertainment for most Fontainions.” 

A scoff, a playful one. “Then, have you come to help me with said paperwork?”

The shake of your head was instant, so much so that the man could’ve sworn it came out of instinct. “Most definitely not, Wrio. It’s rather unfortunate to say, however…” You let out a great sigh, one foreboding terrible news. Even your eyes began to tear up at their corners, and your expression became dramatically crestfallen. “I’m afraid this empty head of mine has suddenly become illiterate!” 

Wriothesley swallowed a laugh that almost dared surface and instead feigned a dramatic gasp, a hand over his mouth that had widened with shock. “Oh, dearest me! What a predicament… Then, what have you come to visit me for, pray tell? To sit and stare at me?”

You shrugged your shoulders, expression blank. “To be fair, I don’t exactly know either. I wanted to see you, and my feet just brought me here.” It wasn’t a complete truth, but not exactly a lie either. You had wanted to see him - partially to admire his strikingly handsome features, but also just to, well, exist in his presence. As much as he’d deny it, Wriothesley hated the idea of being apart from you, and his unchanging situation as the duke of the Fortress of Meropide didn’t aid that information. That, and the fact that ever since you had seen him simply strolling through the city, the slightest wind ruffling his dark locks and that sharp gaze of his staring ahead of him, you’d been utterly captured. While clichés weren’t exactly your forte, you had to admit that he was a case of “love at first sight”. And while you had fallen for his looks, his disposition wasn’t something to simply brush aside. Funniest thing? He’d been the one to approach you, striking up a conversation while you were merely having a drink at a nearby cafe, asking if you’d seen a certain wig-wearing dog.

“Excuse me, I’m so sorry to bother you, but have you seen a dog around here? He has a top hat, brightly colored hair, is wearing a suit covered in stickers…”

After joining him on the chase around just about the entirety of Fontaine, the two of you managed to find the missing dog, who was actually a stray being taken care of by a melusine Wriothesley was familiar with, and return it. One thing led to another, and the two of you grew from strangers, acquaintances, and now to friends. Surely, it’d be terrible to wish for something more, wouldn’t it?

“Just tell me you missed me.” Wriothesley’s grin had returned, and he chuckled. “You’re not doing the greatest job of hiding it.”

“So what if I missed you?” You pouted, finally moving past the man and into the office, eyeing the papers on his desk before making yourself comfortable next to the fire. “And who said I was hiding it, dear duke?”

Wriothesley paused for a beat before continuing in his regular fashion. “You’re being rather bold today, aren’t you? Your words… they’re making it easy to misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand all you want, does it matter?”

“Yes, it does.”

“N-”

“Let’s stop speaking in riddles. Make yourself clear, hm? What’re you trying to pull with all these questions?” Wriothesley crossed his arms over his chest, leaning closer. “What, are you trying to be a flirt?”

“Aaaand if I am?” You smiled at his actions, not exactly sure what was spurring you onwards. 

“...Damnit, you… archons, you just won’t listen, will you? No matter, it just makes things easier for me. Hey, flirt, you won’t get all flustered if I say this then, yeah?”

“Say what-”

“I love you.”

That was certainly a way to catch someone off guard. “... the fuck-”

“No need to react that badly, all right?” Wriothesley let out a sigh of defeat, leaning his head against the wall as he sat down next to you. “I didn’t say it for the sake of saying it. It’s true. I’ve been wanting to tell you for some time now, but..” He chuckled, a laugh that was void of what a laugh should have. “I’m rather a coward.”

“I-I didn’t mean to answer like that, you just caught me by surprise-” You shook your head, cursing at yourself for sounding so pathetic, with your trembling voice and words that stuttered every syllable. “...And by your definition…” You drew your knees closer to yourself, hugging them to your body. “I’m a coward as well.”

It takes him the count of three to respond, eyes blown wide. “...Wait, you-” The flush on his face was undeniable.

“I like you too, Wrio.”

“Archons, I… give me a moment. I’ve been wanting to hear that for so long, I think my heart has stopped beating.” ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) greetings my beloved melons. hello. ive risen from my grave to presumably and hopefully be alive for the next couple months. my reqs are all still full so i will be tryna get through em but at the same time i will be doing self indulgent fics. so udhaofjsdlf yeahd ahhahahahaa thats pretty much it on daily melon talk im going to answer my plethora of asks tomorrow because i know your dashboard wont be able to handle it if i post this and then answer 15 miillion asks. you are ever so welcome. also i always hate the way i write wriothelsey and this time was no exception this was so painful blegh ajlfksdmc

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader, @fiannee, @aether-darling 

reblogs are appreciated! line up for a smooch. mwah!!

[coco-loco-nut]

In Your Mind

Pairing: Carlos x Reader

Summary: The next couple years with the love of your life

requests open masterlist first part

___________

The Spanish sun kisses your skin as you lay out by the pool at the home Carlos rented in Majorca, his favorite holiday spot. His family is a short drive away, also vacationing here. Carlos wanted to have you all to himself for the week.

You look incredible, mi amor

Care to join me, Carlitos, instead of ogling me?

Hm, I think I prefer watching you

Despite his statement, he lies on the lounge chair beside you. You watch his toned muscles flex. The past couple of days have allowed the both of you to grow incredibly close and know each other very well.

"Hypocrite," he laughs, noticing your focus on him.

"I was simply admiring, you looked like you wanted to devour me," you get up and walk to the pool, feeling warm in the sun. You dive in and when you surface, pushing your hair back, Carlos swears he hasn't seen anything more sexy.

"Cariño, you need to stop doing that, you are driving me mad," he says a little breathlessly. You swim to the edge of the pool.

"You better take care of that, before we have dinner with your parents," your smirk causes Carlos to look down and groan. He stands up and pulls you out of the pull, carrying you to the daybed by the pool. You've never been happier about the privacy the villa offered than at that moment.

After a quick shower, you and Carlos join his family at the villa the rest of his family is staying at. You get along well with everyone, thankfully for you. While Carlos talks with his parents, you talk with his sisters, Blanca and Ana, and his cousin, Carlos.

“He really likes you, when he called us, he told us all about you, then he mentioned that he met football legend David Beckham,” Ana tells you, the both of you giggling.

“That’s how he met me, he came over to speak to my dad. He also made me promise to invite some of my uncles to the wedding, whenever that is,” you share.

“That sounds like him, are you sure you want to stay with him?” Blanca asks teasingly.

“Perhaps not. I do suppose he’s better than other fans, especially the ones who are even bigger fans of my mom, those guys tend to be weird. He understands what it’s like to have a famous parent, so I guess I can put up with him asking to meet someone my dad played with once a week,” you look at your soulmate fondly.

“You really love him, don’t you?” Carlos, the cousin, asks and you give him a weird look.

“Of course I do, he’s my soulmate. I’ve loved him for years, even if I didn’t know who he was,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing ever.

“Not all soulmates like each other, but it is clear you two love one another,” Ana grabs your hand and squeezes it as you are called to the table. You sit beside Carlos, his hand resting on your thigh as you all enjoy the meal.

“I think it’s time we get going, someone is tired after all the sun today,” you tell his family a few hours later as you run your fingers through Carlos’s fluffy hair. He is visibly tired.

“Get back safely, I hope we see you again soon,” his mom hugs you, knowing Carlos will likely keep you to himself the rest of the week despite loving to be around his family.

“Thank you, especially for trusting me with your son,” you hug her back.

“Thank you for being a wonderful partner to him, I don’t think we could’ve asked for someone better,” she smiles as Carlos Sr walks over.

“Especially the daughter of a Los Blancos, especially one of the Galácticos,” Carlos Sr smiles.

“You and my dad will have to meet one day soon, I am sure he will love to talk football with you,” you smile politely, feeling the exhaustion settling in.

“Let’s get back to the villa, mi amor,” Carlos presses a kiss to the side of your head, bidding his family a goodnight.

The rest of the week is spent relaxing, cuddling, and learning each other. You decide that you want to travel with him when you aren’t working, and that includes the race he is going to straight from Spain.

Carlos is in a meeting at the track when you decide to send him a mental image of you in a bathtub. He takes a sip of water to hide his blush, trying to focus on the meeting and not the growing desire in his mind.

Ay! Cariño, I am in a meeting.

My bad, Carlitos, I didn’t realize. Well, now you have something to look forward to when you get back to the hotel.

You are just lucky I’m not driving right now. The meeting just ended, I’ll be there in 15.

“Lunch?” Charles asks Carlos, who is doing his best to hurry out of the room.

“Not today, I am going back to the hotel for lunch with Y/n,” Carlos says, his pace a little faster than normal. He regrets driving Charles to the meeting, knowing Charles needs a ride back to the hotel. Carlos wasn’t lying about having lunch, he may not be eating food, but he will be eating.

“She has you wrapped around her finger, smart woman. Alright, but you two are getting lunch with me and Alex tomorrow,” Charles brushes off the rejection. Carlos just nods, speeding a little more than usual to get back to the hotel. Charles chooses to attribute the odd behavior to Carlos getting used to the soulmate bond.

The few weeks that you’ve been together feels like years. Both of your fans find your relationship adorable, calling you the next David and Victoria. They aren’t wrong, like your Dad, Carlos would travel long distances just to spend a few minutes with you.

“You know what’s crazy? I would marry you right now,” you say softly as you lay in his arms one night. It’s not unusual for soulmates to marry after a month, after all, the bond is there for a reason, although some never marry because the bond is enough to them.

“I would say let’s do it, but I would have to ask your father first,” he agrees.

“Would I take your last name? How does that work in Spain?” You turn so you look at him.

“Well, no, usually you don’t take your husband’s name. I guess you could be Y/n Beckham de Sainz, but it would also likely come down to where we are married,” Carlos says, thinking over the logistics.

“I like the sound of that,” you test your potential married name out in your mind. “So what would our kids be then, if Spain has weird customs regarding taking your husband’s last name?” you ask, his heart beats a little faster when your hypothetically refer to him as your husband.

“Traditionally, it would be my last name then your last name, so they would be Sainz Beckham, but now it can be any order,” he says, already picturing a mini you running around.

“Sounds lovely,” you yawn. Carlos rubs you back soothingly, your cheek pressed against his bare chest.

“Go to sleep, mi amor, we can talk about it all you want tomorrow morning,” Carlos whispers, feeling your warm breath on his skin.

You never knew it, but he asked for David’s permission before leaving England. Carlos is incredibly grateful for the soulmate bond, he would choose you a million times over. He waits until the last race of the season to propose. You were with him for most of the races, only two conflicted with shoots you were booked for. You watch as he finds you right after the podium, sticky with champagne and sweat, and pulls you into a hug before getting on one knee.

“Y/n, you are my soulmate, my best friend, my favorite travel companion. These past eight months have been nothing short of incredible, and I want to formally make you mine. Will you marry me, Cariño?” Carlos asks, you stare at him in adoration.

“Of course I will,” you say, happy tears streaming down your face as he slides the perfect ring onto your finger.

I love you, Carlitos

I love you more

You don’t rush the wedding, planning it for after the next season. Your mom offers to design your wedding dress and Carlos’s suit, an offer you both happily accept.

“Let’s get married at Bernabéu,” Carlos suggests, partially to see your reaction, one night in his London pad. The two of you make an effort to not only talk mentally.

“No way, Carlitos, if we are getting married on a pitch, it will be Old Trafford,” you shift away from him, horrified at your fiancé.

“Mi amor, I was joking,” Carlos laughs, pulling you back. “I did get us tickets for the Champions League knockout match at Old Trafford,” Carlos says and your eyes widen. The game is only a few weeks away.

“You what?”

“Well, technically it was your dad who got the tickets, I just paid for them,” Carlos smiles, loving your excitement. He didn’t buy tickets, but he can’t tell you about the surprise.

“I haven’t been to a game in so long, you are the best, Carlitos,” you wrap your arms around him, tightly hugging him.

You end up in a box with your family and your dad’s former teammates. Except for your mom and Harper, they aren’t huge football fans. You are wearing one of your dad’s old jerseys while Carlos wears his white Real Madrid jersey.

Your dad wanted to surprise you, think of it like a pre-wedding gift

You look between Carlos and your dad with a huge smile on your face.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you hug him.

“Of course,” He squeezes you before letting you go so you can talk to your uncles. David takes the opportunity to catch up with Carlos.

“Uncle Gary!” You hug your father’s best friend.

“Hey kid, congrats on the engagement and finding your soulmate. Too bad he’s a Real Madrid fan,” Gary says, patting your shoulder.

“Yes, but look at him having the time of his life,” you chuckle, watching Carlos’s starstruck face as your dad introduces him to Figo, Zidane, Ronaldo, and Roberto Carlos.

“Is that Baby Beckham?” You turn around and notice Paul Scholes and Roy Keane approaching you.

“Who else would be wearing my Dad’s jersey?” you smile, giving them hugs. It has been a while since you were able to go to a game with your dad and his old teammates.

“Maybe your fiancé,” David Gardner shrugs. You did offer Carlos a replica of your Dad’s jersey from when he played for Real Madrid, but Carlos insisted that he had a lucky jersey.

“Yes, well, no one is perfect. He’s damn close though,” you chuckle.

“Language! Who taught you that?” Roy asks with a gasp.

“I believe we did,” Paul says, nudging his former teammate.

“Mi amor, I might marry your father instead,” Carlos tells you, only a little starstruck. Your uncles burst out into laughter.

“Carlos, these are my Uncles, Paul, Roy, David, and Gary,” you point them out individually.

“I’m her favorite,” David and Gary say at the same time.

“It’s Uncle Gary, he bought her her first beer and babysat her the most,” Brooklyn says, sliding up beside you.

Let’s go sit down, Carlitos. The match is starting

Good idea

You take a seat beside your brothers, which doesn’t bode well for Carlos when Real Madrid loses. The four of you celebrate as Carlos replays the mistake that allowed for a last minute goal. To make up for the loss, David convinces his former Madrid teammates to sign Carlos’s jersey.

“Have a safe flight to Maranello,” your dad hugs you goodbye after the game. Carlos is still a bit in shock.

That season, Carlos wins the WDC, and there is no better way to celebrate than getting married.

The ceremony is beautiful. You rented a large villa in Spain for the ceremony and reception. You didn’t intent for it to be a large star studded affair, but that was just the nature of the two of you getting married. Your mom hit it out of the park with her designs. The satin wedding dress fit perfectly, and wasn’t too simple and wasn’t too busy. Carlos’s suit was perfect, red and white subtle accents are a nice touch. You both cry a little when you see each for the first time.

“Carlos, you are my everything. There isn’t anything that I wouldn’t do for you. I never thought that finding my soulmate would be as great as this, I’d happily hear you sing Smooth Operator in my head in every lifetime if it meant being with you,” you tell him in your vows.

“I never thought I would meet my best friend and soulmate while playing a charity soccer match, but there is no other way I’d want to meet you. You take my breath away, make me a better person, and love Football as much as I do. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you,” Carlos squeezes your hands.

You are my everything, Carlos

You are the air I breathe, mi vida

[oswildin]

The Battle of Sentiment (Loki x GN/ASGARDIAN!Reader)

Summary: You and Loki were childhood friends, but now he seemed more like a stranger. Sentiment… It wasn’t just your weakness. There was always something unspoken between you two. (Set during ‘Avengers’.)

Rating: SFW/All ages - brief mentions of injury/blood but nothing graphic. Angst, hurt, kinda romance if you squint.

A/N: Written more from Loki’s POV, with an ‘unspoken love’ between you both. No use of ‘Y/N’.

Based off of my POV

“I see they’ve sent in the cavalry.”

Loki slowly turned in his glass cell - or cage he should say. He wore a slight smirk on his lips, eyes faintly narrowed as the sound of his leather boots shifted on the floor, filling the silence in the room. There you stood, donned in the armour of a warrior. It seemed a lot had changed since he fell from the Bifrost. He was hardly surprised, you had always wanted to be a ‘protector’… Yet his tone as he said those words was one of mockery. He knew this was Thor’s doing, sending you to try and talk some ‘sense’ into him. The one person Thor thought maybe he would listen to…

“I assume my brother and his new friends believe you can, what?” Loki continued, tilting his head faintly, walking slowly closer to the glass. “Offer solace? Be a balm? Remind me of ‘who I really am’…?” His lips tugged into a sharp, sardonic smile as he shook his head, hands clasped behind his back. “Tell me how I ‘don’t need to do this’…” You had yet to say a word, simply observing the God turned attempted Ruler. “Thor told you of my true parentage, did he not?” Loki raised a brow. “I was never one of you.” A pause. “And I certainly will not be swayed with sentiment.”

It was a declaration. A hypocritical one at that. Every action since he found out about his true heritage had been born from sentiment, whether he liked to admit it or not. And the way you had yet to say a single word… It irked him more than he liked. His sharp smile slowly fell, a steely expression taking over his features. A low rumble left him, almost sound of frustration as he turned once again on his heel, slowly beginning to pace the round cage.

“It appears much has changed since I was cast into an abyss…” Loki’s voice held an edge to it, perhaps even the faintest traces of hurt at the memory of Odin’s last words echoing in his mind. The simple ‘no, Loki’ that had left his fath-… Asgard’s King’s lips. Rejection. “You don a warriors garb.” He paused his steps, glancing back at you. “Asgardian armour, a fierce expression and yet…” His eyes narrowed analytically. “Your eyes reveal your… disappointment. Your uncertainty. Your doubt.” Once again, his lips twitched upwards, this time into a slight smirk. “So, enlighten me…” He tilted his head. “What do you hope to gain?”

You had remained silent, watching the man you had once called your friend. Your dearest friend… Yet, somehow now he felt like a stranger. You had seen Loki be angry, jealous, cunning, manipulative… But never this detached. Especially, not to you. Your lips pursed as you dared take a few steps closer to the glass between you both, your leathers lightly creaking as you did so. Loki mirrored your movements, also taking a few steps closer. You were disappointed. You were uncertain. And your doubt was regarding your friendship with the God of Mischief.

“Nothing.” You finally spoke, voice low, almost quiet. “I came to Midgard to aid Thor, to protect the mortals-“ A breathy, almost mocking laugh cut you off. It was brief, Loki’s hands unclasping from behind his hand to fall at his sides. “And to ensure the Tesseract is secured.” You continued, trying to ignore his clear dismissal of your words. “This isn’t about what I can gain.”

“Hm.” Loki hummed lowly, smirk still on his face. You fought the urge to shift under his calculating stare, knowing he likely saw right through your words. Loki was adept at finding weaknesses, but you both knew he didn’t need to probe too much to find yours.

Of course, you were in love with him. He had been a constant in your life since you were children. You had seen him at his worst - or at least, what you had thought was his worst - and his best. Just as he had you. There was always something unspoken between you, but neither of you had ever admitted it openly or even really admitted it to yourselves - not fully. And now… Well, everything that happened before Thor’s coronation seemed like a distant memory. It felt cold. And that hurt more than anything. You didn’t know what was worse, the feeling of grief you had carried the whole year after his fall from the Bifrost or this, right now. It was a different type of grief.

“Could you do it?” Loki’s sudden question brought you out from your thoughts, your brows furrowing ever so slightly. Loki’s smirk had disappeared, replaced with a look that was somehow steely as it was curious. “Could you stop me? Any means necessary?” A pause. “To protect this-“ He gestured loosely around him with a hand. “-lost realm?”

Silence.

You raised your chin faintly, trying to remain composed and neutral. But of course, he knew what your silence meant.

“Just as I had suspected.” He murmured, almost softly. “You see… it’s where you and I differ.” He took a step closer to the glass. “I wouldn’t hesitate.” And just as quickly as the softer tone appeared, it disappeared. “Not even for a second.” He tilted his head downwards, the shadows from the holding cells lighting giving him a darker look, sinister almost.

“I don’t believe you.” You countered, although the slight waver in your voice said otherwise. There it was… That doubt.

“Sentiment is a weakness.” Loki continued lowly. “Foolish, dangerous… And it gets you killed.” His voice was barely above a whisper, yet held the edge of danger he had spoken of. You swallowed the lump in your throat, taking a quiet breath.

“We were friends once.” You raised a brow, shaking your head faintly. “And now? We are… enemies?” There was that brief, breathy laugh again.

“Words spoken like a child…” Loki continued, taking another step closer, his shadow growing taller with each step. “Holding onto the memories of a lost boy.” His lips curled in what looked like disgust, his eyes flickering over you. “Pathetic.” The simple word cut right through you, making your composure falter. “You came to Midgard, not to protect but to try and reconcile. Letting sentimentality rule your actions. And it will be your undoing.”

You hadn’t even realised you’d been holding your breath until his fist suddenly collided with the glass, making you gasp, stepping back as he glared at you. It was cold, cruel… It was a side to Loki you hadn’t seen before.

“You stand in a warriors attire, yet you let emotion control your actions.” He snarled. “Your ancestors slain monsters like me and you came here to talk!?” He spat, his anger only growing. However, deep down, buried underneath all his animosity, his need for vengeance, his craving to be seen as a worthy ruler, he felt… hurt. Guilt even. The way you looked at him… Your eyes so expressive, so open like a book. His words were hurting you, just as he had designed them to. Then why did it affect him?

“You’re nothing but a child, interfering in affairs of Gods and Kings. If I were you…” His breath fogged the glass lightly from how close his face was to it, his fist uncurling as his palm pressed against the glass. “I would return to Asgard and stay out of my way.” It was a warning, not quite a threat. A quick breath left your nose, lips downturned, brows creased… Yes, it was a warning… But a part of you thought that perhaps… Perhaps it was born from care that he still felt somewhere inside.

“And if I refuse?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper, your eyes searching his. Loki’s hardened stare slipped for the quickest of moments, so quick that you wouldn’t have caught it if you hadn’t have been staring at him so intently.

It was the same look he had worn when you had insisted to go to Jotunheim with him, Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three. But that time… He was able to stop you, to keep you from accompanying them. This was different. You were on opposite sides, and he knew the mortals would not care what became of you in the war he sought to ignite.

“Then you would be foolish.” He finally spoke, voice a low murmur. “Return home.” He reiterated, more of an order than a warning now. Perhaps even a hint of a plea.

“Not without you.”

The words left you before you could stop them, the warriors facade completely melting away. Before him now stood his friend… The person he grew up with, the person he had once felt he could trust… But that trust broke with Odin and Frigga’s lie he had discovered. He couldn’t trust anyone. He wasn’t even sure he could trust himself anymore… His hand fell from the glass, his eyes blinking as he took a step back, chin raising as he spoke:

“So be it.”

The battle had begun.

Loki had once again managed to pull the strings, manipulating the team and getting the war he had wanted. He had fought his brother, and when Thor had forced him to look out at the world he was destroying… For a moment, the mask slipped. The vengeance, the rage, the envy… The craving to be a ruler… It disappeared for a second. In that moment, he felt like the lost boy. Destruction, chaos, death and pain… That was what he was inflicting. ‘Madness’ as Thor had called it.

Was it madness?

And for a second, Loki considered backing down. A part of him just… wanted it to be over. But the part of him, the logical part, remembered the consequences if he failed. And it surged him onwards.

But it was futile. The Avengers had won. He couldn’t help but feel some relief, the sceptres influence ebbing. It had bolstered him, intensifying his motives, his conviction… And now it was gone… Reality began to set in. As the Avengers stood before him, all ready for another round, Loki sat against the steps, cuts and scrapes littering his face from the fight. Exhausted. He was exhausted.

His eyes trailed over the triumphant team, before they flickered in your direction. His blue eyes took in your own exhausted face. You had survived… And the relief he felt at seeing you alive… It showed for a moment on his face. However, you didn’t escape unharmed. Your hand clutched your side, fingers bloodied and dirty. Your skin had sustained bruises, cuts and was covered in dust. Before him now was a warrior.

“If it’s all the same to you…” Loki’s eyes travelled back to the Avengers. “I’ll have that drink now.” He raised his brows faintly, noticing the small smirk Stark wore at his words. This was the Loki you remembered. Not the one you had been facing the last few days.

Thor didn’t waste any time in moving to apprehend him, although Loki had no plans of trying to escape. Punishment from Odin seemed a much better prospect than the consequences he would face at the hands of Thanos. As Thor hoisted him to his feet, Loki let out a quiet hiss, one of pain and frustration. It was then he saw you approaching, just as Thor cuffed his wrists.

“I’m impressed.” Loki raised a brow, eyeing you. “You survived.” He didn’t know what he expected you to say, but the look you gave him… told him everything he needed to know. “Well, you conquered your first battle.” He continued lowly. “I believe that is cause for celebration.” Thor glared at the God of Mischief, clearly not appreciating his candidness about his actions. He opened his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.

“You think this is amusing?” You breathed out, your own frustrations and anger rising to the surface. Loki’s face remained neutral. “You think I wish to celebrate after the horrors I have just faced?” You shook your head in disbelief, your voice raising slightly, causing a few of the others in the room to glance your direction.

“Uh oh, looks like we have a domestic.” You heard Stark mutter wryly as he closed the suitcase which was now housing the Tesseract.

“People are dead, Loki. Their home destroyed!” You continued, taking a shaky breath. Loki’s lack of emotion only reinforced your frustration. In fact, he didn’t think he had ever seen you so angry. “All this for a throne you don’t even want.” You narrowed your eyes, taking a step closer. Thor remained close, almost between you, worried it could quickly turn hostile. “If sentiment is my weakness, then what is yours?” You asked rhetorically, making Loki’s jaw twitch. “If my actions have been that of a child, wanting my friend back, then what are yours?”

He knew what you were implying. That his own actions were that born of the lost boy that was still somewhere deep inside of him. And it stung, it got to him… because he knew it to be true. His actions were born from bitterness, rage, envy and most of all… Sentiment.

Loki took a step closer, Thor shifting on his feet almost nervously, seeing the way his brother’s posture had tensed. But as Loki looked down at you, his features remained as composed as possible. The air was tense… His unpredictability weaving around the room. And then…

“I’m glad you did not perish.”

It was simple. But he knew you could read between the lines. It was an admission, in Loki’s way. Your tight features relaxed faintly, processing his words. And that doubt, that uncertainty you had felt before when facing him on the Hellcarrier… It began to ebb slightly. Perhaps… Perhaps he wasn’t a complete stranger after all… Maybe he still was your friend. Somewhere beneath all that hurt.

Thor placed a hand on Loki’s shoulder, steering him away from you. But Loki held your gaze as he was ushered towards the elevator, unspoken words being exchanged with just a look. It wasn’t quite an apology, or remorse… But it was similar to that of a plea. A plea not to give up on him as his father had. It hit you right in the chest.

There he was.

Your friend.

Perhaps it was foolish… dangerous… And maybe it would be your undoing… Or maybe sentiment wasn’t a weakness after all. And maybe… Just maybe… It was the thing that could give you strength.

[lives4lovesworld]

Truly wish dany/targaryens stans would stop bothering. The amount of daily posts that aim to "counter" or even pander to nonsensical anti bs is excessive and after years quite honestly boring and tedious.

Quite frankly I fail to understand what we gain from this, adhering to a holier-than-thou moral code, especially since no one else is compelled to even pretend to do so? Is the goal here for them be completely distorted to the point they resemble other characters? antis supposed favorites? As uninteresting to us as they subconsciously are to their stans? Which is the real problem here and the reason why they are the way they are (hypocritical stealing clowns and nuisances?) But perhaps I have a completely different less-morality-bound approach to consuming media in my free time than the rest of my fellow stans.

No downplaying/refuting Valyrian blood purity, empathizing non-Valyrian marriages, pointing out the origin of slavery are found in Old Ghis and not the Freehold, no opting for the most gracious interpretation of members of House Targaryen will ever stop antis from painting and hypocritically single out everything Targaryen/Valyrian related as kkk- or "imperialistic" coded or whatever woke buzzword of the day. They live to pretend-clutch their pearls and hold only them to modern standards of a fantastical utopia, while every other feudal character can be as archaic as expected from their pseudomedvial upbringing with their houses being wardlords

Speaking for me, I STAN their blood purity and incest. For me, IT IS a defining characteristic of House Targaryen that makes them unique, no matter how "problematic" it may be. I STAN it because GRRM fabricated scandalous, passionate love stories that I chose to interpret as consensual and politically advantageous, that brought forward incredible, magical gorgeous characters able to ride dragons that inspire love and envy alike. Who shine all the brighter when one contrasts them with literally any other characters and unions that are and breed doomed mediocrity and are born out of stale duty. I perhaps have a bais for pure blooded Targaryens that look the part than any prefect bastards or half breeds, or targ x targ to any other couple.

I also stan cruel Maegor, particularly for showing Oldtown its place and declawing the Militant Faith because I enjoy reading about the presumptuous Christian Vatican equivalent getting its ass handed to them. I stan Rhaenyra and she still can be a pampered proud princess-turned-queen. The same way I prefer canon Daemon as a rogue, an ambitious prince who seduced his brother's heir with perhaps also political hopes in mind and because he wanted his gorgeous niece as a bride instead of his cold barren wife. A legend that slay the pathetic cunt that was his nephew.

And while I'm at it: I also refuse to care about every "likeable"/pitiful character simply because it would be the "morally right" thing to do, nor will I root for the characters I like to do it. I don't care for Helaena and her children, nor the strong boys or any half-considered-"poc" Targaryen, nor will I even pretend to see "reason" in the greens actions, nor do I even want to see Dany "overcome her hatred"/bais against the usurper's dogs and any descendants of them. Or for her to be that altruistic to turn away from the throne to save humanity.

No amount of "call-out-posts" what a misogynist, racist, cultist, classist or elistist I am will change that because why OH WHY should I give a fuck about what anyone online thinks of me. Why should I allow anyone to bully me into streamline my enjoyment?

Especially by the people that do not even have the decorum of pretend to have any sort of decency. So they can use the most misogynistic, classist language and expect submission to their attempts to rule fandom spaces with iron fists and delusions, and canonize their favorites' sainthood and entitlement to feudal supremacy often only because they ✨️suffered prettily✨️ and fit some anesthetics while I must tolerate them trying to scold me into caring so greatly about fictional grey faceless mass of common people that would die were my favorites to pursue their ambitions. Meanwhile the same people would have any would-be-subjects die of famine and cold as long as their favorites get their crowns GRRM would never grant them in canon anyway. Give me a break. And let's not even start on how dragons and incest are suddenly the solutions as long as they don't belong and is not practiced by Targaryens.

To make this clear: this post is NOT a not-so-subtle incognito-anti post of ✨️i lOve all mY wAr CrimInaL eUqally!;' LeT tHeM bE mAd AnD unHinGed uwu,"! love all mY mOderAte chAsTe hoPes Of the fUtUres and mAd imPeriAlistS. 🥰✨️

I simply wanted to say; perhaps we should NOT GIVE A FUCK, "own" the """""bad""""" and be "problematic" and "irrational" in our selective love for characters and houses like EVERYBODY FUCKING ELSE.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I was thinking about something these days, a lot of people in the fandom assume that Cross would join the bad Sanses, but I thought about why Cross would stay with them, like Cross kind of knows he can't rebuild his world, even if he does, he'll never have his family again, so why would he want to stay with Nightmare?

In my head it would make more sense for him to want to stay with the Star Sanses than Nightmare (even after everything that happened with Ink? Maybe?) Dream would perhaps offer hope to Cross, unlike Nightmare, what would he offer him?

Sorry for the extremely long ask, I've been thinking about this for a few days and I can't get it out of my head, I'd like to hear your ideas.

I am assuming this is because either people assume it’s canon that Cross is still with them, or they just prefer that he be with them for whatever reasons. Such as Bad Sans Poly or Bad Sans Family, or just simply that they think it could be more interesting and dynamic.

I mean, the Bad Sanses on their own aren’t canon, the only ones Nightmare actually has/had are Killer and maybe Cross/XChara? I’m not an expert on Cross/XChara/Xtale canon and especially in relation to Nightmare. All I know is that Killer was confirmed canon in both Something New and Dreamtale.

I suppose people who go with Bad Sans Cross make the same argument as they do for why Killer would choose to stay with Nightmare. That Nightmare somehow someway saved them, gave them purpose and direction, the idea of found family against the multiverse.

I mean. Cross doesn’t really have to go looking for his family if they’re already right there, right? He can mourn and grief what he loss, but many also like the idea of him moving on with the Gang. A lot of people in this fandom have a preference for the Bad Sanses over the Stars, and things like ships factor all of it too.

For example, if Dream gets in the way of Krossmare or Bad Sans Poly or Kross or Crossmare, then some people just want Dream out of the way. There’s a long history of that with Killermare and Color & Killer, too.

Some people just prefer fanon because they find it fun and comforting, and they want to see their favorite characters in these situations and relationships.

There’s also the factor of how many people just don’t..really acknowledge exactly what Nightmare’s gang does? You know. Multiversal terrorist murderer torturers.

They don’t put a lot of weight into it, and how it would impact characters and relationships and the like. Who is and isn’t okay with what they’re doing, who will struggle, who is a hypocritical little bastard. Things like that.

Probably because it often goes with the idea that Nightmare saved them all, and they all want to be there, and everyone is happy there; which is fine of course. No different from the Creepypasta mansion, which I also loved as a kid.

If anyone else has their own opinions and thoughts about this and Cross and everything, feel free to chime in.

[prettyyyathieee]

✧˖°.Reo Mikage is your reckless love✧˖°.

Warnings ⚠️: Cheating! Toxic love! Angst! Very Detailed...Snu but without the actual snu. Some curse words as well.

Female reader x Reo Mikage

A/n : Call me stupid but there's something about toxic loves I literally cannot get over.

I literally hurt myself writing this, so I hope it hurts you guys more. KJZXNCVSDHFA I'm kidding. But yeah, I'm kinda proud of this one.

What they didn’t tell you about rich people is they all have their own “rich people” bubble. It’s that special connection or network wherein just by being part of it you could access penthouses for free, get jobs at well-known companies for free, or just simply be gifted free expensive things whenever you show your face.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Dating Reo Mikage was…magical

You and Reo Mikage were part of the same bubble. Forced into it. After all, having a hundred acre “house” with a couple more “houses' ' on it and several generations of inheritance that will eventually fall on your lap without you breaking a sweat or proving something means connection with only the wealthiest, at least nearly wealthy in your status.

You were always stuck in your own little lavish bubble, protected by your overbearing daddy. It wasn’t that you were taking your privilege as something that you rightfully owned, it was just that you were, in the broadest sense, unaware.

Unlike Reo Mikage, who was the first to show the pretty rich girl how privileged she was. It was hypocritical of him to say you were “privileged” when perhaps his family may even be richer than yours.

Be that as it may, it was Reo Mikage who showed you the real world or shall I say, the fun parts of the lesser side of the city. The arcade where your father would have an aneurysm if he caught you talking to the ‘smoking hoodlums’ as he called them, the fast food restaurants you could run into and cause a scene at 3 am, and of course, the parking lots where you almost had a near-death experience after chasing one of his soccer balls without paying attention to your surroundings. 

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Dating Reo Mikage was…all sorts of new experiences

Family businesses turn into lucrative opportunities. Just like how the gatherings of business launches turn into talks of new investments and piles of master-crafted, hand-me-downs of gold jewelry.

That was your life. Until Mikage Reo turned it upside down and set it aflame by tarnishing yours and his reputation. 

You might be thinking of fancy candle-lit dinners or masquerade ball dates but no. Unlike his polished facade or his way of hiding his weaknesses like an innate businessman, Mikage Reo was not that kind of person when he was with you. He wasn’t one for showing you extravagance because he knew it would not phase you. 

No, with you, Reo Mikage did not feel the need to boast or be competitive at all. He didn’t feel unguarded or upstaged because you were the exact opposite of him. Amazement was readable in your eyes whenever he showed you the ways to have fun without having to involve money– which was all you were really used to. (Although he did a little too much by showing you how to eat and run)

And of course, it was a very interesting experience getting to know your future sister-in-law’s fiance.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Dating Reo Mikage was…thrilling

Aside from the “dates” you both indulged yourself in, as much as it shames you to say it there was something about doing the “wrong” things that made it so fun. It’s not like it was weighing on your conscience that much either. You know for a fact every other rich person in your family’s country club had a secret lover behind their partner’s back. You’d also bet all of your family's bank account combined that your very own fiance had a secret lover as well.

He hid him or her so well and so carefully that you pitied him because here you were, on the Mikage heir’s lap in an abandoned music room feeding each other expensive cocktail shrimp that you stole from the buffet table.

You always found yourself at inconvenient places at times like this. Whether it be a charity party or a business party, whenever you and reo were in the same building, not even responsibility could hold either of you from hiding yourselves in each other’s arms.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Dating Reo Mikage was…romantic in a sense

I say in a sense because what exactly is romantic in secretly hooking up with your future sister-in-law’s fiance? Both of your family’s had bad blood because of some petty rivalry that occured even before your parent’s time. So as children, you both weren’t allowed to even go near each other. They only found truce in your fiance’s family, and that did not end well. Not that they need to know

But yes, your fiance’s sister is a great woman. She was smart, pretty and had a good family name. That was all she was to Reo however, a name. Just another name in the endless spiral of rich people to build connections with.

With you however, Reo really did feel something. Unlike his fiance you were responsive, actually appreciative of his efforts. Although his efforts to his fiance were simply bouquets of expensive roses and champagne while his efforts to you were time and unreplicable memories. Unlike his fiance you weren’t cold. The attention he craved, the compliments he was starved of and the rawness of being in love, nothing could rival it for him, not even soccer. And of course, unlike his fiance, you were a girl he could corrupt. And oh how he loved that.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Dating Reo Mikage was…what stripped you from your innocence

‘Reo, Reo, Reo’ It was all him in your mind. 

The way he ‘innocently’ caressed your exposed legs under the table and under your dress. The way his eyes would slowly dart from your eyes to your lips, to your neck to your shoulders, traveling lower and lower. 

It was Reo you held at night, not your fiance. It was Reo you share kisses with all of your passion combined, not your fiance. It was Reo that taught you what desire truly is. Reo showed you things nobody could and would never dare to. 

Truly, Reo loved the innocence slowly being poured out of your eyes for him to drink. And he enjoyed every drop of it. There was just something in the way you felt around him. So right, so wrong and so real.

He was sure nothing could ever satisfy him ever again.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Dating Reo Mikage was…exhausting

It was exhausting having to hide your relationship from everyone, and that includes every person you trust because your relationship with Reo would surely be the downfall of both your families. It was hard but only because Reo was passionate about you.

Reo loved touching you, he couldn’t resist it. His excuse would always be “you’re just too irresistible” saying it with a pout you could do no more to refuse his advances. It was nerve-wracking at first. However, after enough time it became weird going a day without spending at least an hour with skin-to-skin contact. And so came the days where Reo wanted to occupy all of your time and vice versa. 

Let’s get this straight though, being with him wasn’t exhausting, avoiding him was. 

Trying to act like you both didn’t know each other even when you stare at each other from across the room was exhausting. Hiding behind thick clothing with a mask around your face was exhausting. Trying not to show each other off to the world was exhausting. Having to be careful of all your actions was exhausting. But most of all…

Having another woman claim him was exhausting.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Dating Reo Mikage was…degrading

They knew. You didn’t know how but they all knew. You could see it from their eyes. Even with Reo convincing you they didn’t have a clue, you knew they knew. Your parents knew, evidenced by their disappointed stare. His teammates knew, given by their curious stares. Heck- even the maids knew as evidenced by their snickering whenever they thought you weren’t there, behind their back. 

Maybe you were overthinking, it wasn’t you they were staring at, it wasn’t you they were laughing at. You tried to convince yourself, just like Reo did. But alas, as he was blind and you were not. At least, not after someone made you realize.

Her long slender hand grasped upon your shoulder, the engagement ring on placed upon her fourth finger glared at you. Her languid eyes looking directly into your shaken ones. There you saw it, evidence. 

Apathy has never felt so horrifying. 

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Dating Reo Mikage was…confusing

No amount of begging could get your parents to absolve your future marriage, even after your temper tantrums and threats to hurt yourself. They simply locked you away in your room and had your maids care for you, all while making sure you did not have any means to contact Reo.

Although, when time finally came to let you out of house arrest the news you were greeted with made you question your whole relationship.

Because while you were suffering, rotting away in your room, Reo left for some soccer program. 

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Dating Reo Mikage was…wrong

You knew that from the very first day you understood his advances. Yet as Eve had realized, nothing was sweeter than eating the fruit of the devil. And your devil came in the form of Reo Mikage.

It wasn’t all his fault. Sure, he made you think nothing of your whole relationship was wrong because it was born out of love. Sure, he made you endure all sorts of degrading stares and disgusted sneers all while he built his career in soccer. 

But you knew he really did love you. Because no one else ever knew what you knew.

Nobody, but you, would ever know about the semi-huge part of the reason he joined blue lock was because he wanted to end your suffering. To cut off the evil vines he was slowly suffocating you with.

And nobody but you knew about the letters he wrote to you everyday while in blue lock, delivered by a boy named “Nagi Seishiro”.

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Dating Reo Mikage was…the one experience you will never regret.

You don’t think you’d ever get over him. Not when your news feed was full of his existence for the first few years. He had a knack for soccer, something you wish also didn’t apply to you.

They say grief is the badge of honor for past loves, a sign you’ve loved well but lost. What do we make of longing then? A sign you’ve loved wrongly? It sure felt like that.

Your heart still aches more than a few years later. You would readily admit that you still want Reo but you would never do that to yourself once more.

You’d never heal from him, true enough, however, it was the same for him. Which made it bearable for you, as awful as that sounds.

Reo could never ever rid himself of loving you, not even after the thousands of beautiful girls the world could offer him. Nobody could ever compare to you, nobody could ever be as fit for him as you.

“I see, I see. This next question is for Mr. Reo Mikage” The reporter asked, which caused Reo to stop pestering Nagi and to turn to the audience with a wide smile on his face.

It was a female reporter, a pretty one at that. He gave her a flirtatious wink as she blushed and hid her face behind her bulky mic which prompted a bunch of hoots and teasings from his teammates.

The reporter cleared her throat before she spoke to the mic. “Ehem, thank you for the opportunity-”

“The honor’s all mine, pretty girl” Reo smirked before biting his lip and scrunching his face from the laughs that erupted and the hands hitting his back.

The reporter squealed for a bit before gathering herself together by taking a few deep breaths.

“Um…so…uh” She stuttered. Nodding graciously at Reo’s beckoning face.

“This pertains to your…uh let’s say ritual? Fans have noticed that before each and every game you kiss the bracelet on your wrist…does it have a reason or perhaps a story?” She asked Reo so sweetly that some of the blue lock guys blushed. But those who were close to Reo winced. 

Everybody could feel the room turn a little colder as the mentioned player’s smile dropped. The silence only lasted a couple of seconds before Reo, ever the professional business heir, fixed his face instantly making others wonder if what they saw was real.

“It’s personal. Next question.” He spoke to the mic before giving it to the teammate next to him. He was out for the whole interview after that. Not focused nor attentive. Everybody could see that the question may have put him in a tight spot.

Before it was even over, Reo stood up, much to the worry of many, then stormed out without so much as a ‘goodbye’. There in the hallways, Reo buried his hands across his folded arms. He honestly thought everything was in place now, you out of his, out of shame and misery.

Yet as soon as somebody mentions that godforsaken bracelet, he can’t think straight.

“Y/n…What the hell am I supposed to do?” He asked the air, though if you asked him, he’d say he was asking what’s left of you, the ghost of you. He caressed his bracelet with his thumb before pressing a kiss to it. After all, it’s one of the things you left him before he ghosted you.

[darklinaforever]

I always wonder what exactly the accusation about me liking ships or men abusing women is based on ?

Like... like I have some sort of fetish about female suffering caused by men ? I don't know ?

I'm trying to find meaning in this accusation that I often make of myself, when in reality, generally these haters are just talking to me about the super popular enemies to lovers trope or ships with twisted / toxic dynamics without necessarily this particular trope, even if it's rather rare and the people who follow me know very well that this type of ship is not reserved for heterosexual couples, that I ship LGBTQ+ characters with this kind of dynamic.

So how does it work from this accusation of loving relationships where men specifically abuse women ?

Although, knowing their stupidity, I imagine they would say that liking this kind of dynamic on LGBTQ+ couples would simply be proof of my so-called homophobia / queerphobia ? 😂 After all the bullshit I've been through, we're not ready for that.

Especially since sometimes it’s women in the role of the villainous crush that I like, so what would that mean ? That I'm sexist for wanting women to be portrayed as villains perhaps ? 😂

Once again, the whole principle of often coming to tell me that I am problematic because I apparently like ships where men abuse women, makes no sense since sometimes it is the opposite, sometimes it is LGBTQ+ couples.

I just like, like many other people, seeing dark twisted complex and toxic relationships often in the enemy-to-lover trope.

Loving this type of relationship is not surprising. It has existed and been represented in the media for as long as it has existed simply because it is a fascinating concept to look at.

I mean, are you going to tell someone they're weird because they love watching movies about serial killers ? No, I do not think so.

And that for me is because liking to see this kind of relationship on screen is more often women who will appreciate seeing that, so immediately when a woman likes something in the media it is often demonized and we are going to point this out as one of the worst perverse things that can exist even though it is completely ridiculous.

How does loving fictional relationships give you an objective portrait of the person I am in real life ? This is really completely stupid.

Well, I went far, but all this to say that the accusation that I like ships where the man abuses the woman is really stupid.

I just like a trope no matter what type of couple is involved. Let it be the woman who is morally doubtful. Let the dynamic be there on a queer couple etc.

I imagine that this type of accusation is intended to give the impression that you are standing on the side of women and defending them, but the reality is quite different since you are allowing yourself to judge and moralize a trope very popular with women.

You are nothing but hypocrites trying to give yourselves the right moral role, and it is tiring.

[silcoitus]

Letters from Silco—You Shine

Letters from Silco Masterlist

This letter is a bit different because I did not write it! I handlettered it, yes, but the words are 100% from @ink-and-dagger. These words are pulled directly from the last chapter of Inky's fic "Drink With Me"; I simply put them in "Silco's" handwriting.

Word count: 446

Tags: Silco x Astrid, Silco x reader, set during the events of Drink With Me, spoilers for DWM!

Astrid,

You were right. Everything you said that night in my office was true.

I have been a coward. I allowed my… fears regarding loss of control to hold authority over me… Ironic, come to think of it. Not only have I been a coward, but I’ve become a hypocrite too. I punish others for daring to make the same mistakes twice, and yet my own repetitive failures have led me to almost lose you on multiple occasions, in more ways than one—

You have given me more chances than I have earned the right to. Because you are generous, and because you always choose to hold on to the good amidst the bad. Or, perhaps, it’s simply because you are just as foolish as I am.

In all my time, I have never met anyone like you.

You… You’re a brat. Truly, the most infuriating, insolent menace I have ever been cursed to deal with. And you are also everything I adore about the Undercity. You possess the grit and tenacity of a true Trencher. You’re resourceful and sharp. You’re as vibrant and colourful as the entirety of the Lanes and much more beyond it still. You bring light, and warmth, and laughter to a part of the world so rarely touched by such things.

You shine, Darling.

You’re radiant. You’re perfect.

And by some… miracle, you seem to think the same of me. You have changed everything since you came here. Not only in my life but in Jinx’s too. You may never truly understand the impact you have had on the both of us.

You have shown me things that I never thought could be meant for me. That I didn’t think were possible. And instead of showing you the gratitude you deserve, I have treated you abhorrently. You placed your trust in me and I betrayed it. I betrayed you.

I have done nothing but hurt you, time and again and

I am so sorry, Sweetheart.

I am sorry for all that you have had to endure at my foolish hands these past several months. For everything I have said and done to hurt you. And I am sorry that it has taken me so long to apologise for my grievous mistakes.

I do not deserve your forgiveness. Nor do I have any right to ask it of you. But I am a selfish man, and I am desperate enough that I would beg for the chance to earn it.

Astrid, please.

Please give me the chance to do better by you. I will give you anything. Everything. 

I cannot lose you.

I need you.

I love you.

Please. Let me love you.

Silco

If you would like a (digital copy) of a Silco letter of your own, check out this post for details on how to request one!

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco  @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @eurydicethesage @thepineapplesimp @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @delta-is-here @beardedladyqueen @sirenofzaun @blissfulip

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[idontunderstandchemistry]

Uncomfortable - Tim Drake (1/3)

Summary: [...] "Are you saying you are afraid of me?" "I wouldn't say afraid" Dick said, trying to sound casual "It's just the way you've been talking about everything these days. It makes everyone feel..." "Uncomfortable?" Tim asked, with a bitter grin, finally turning towards Dick "The probable consequences of what you all say and do to me make you uncomfortable, Dick?" [...] Extremely hurt Tim Drake living out of coffee and spite.

Wordcount: 1.5K

Content Warnings: Angst; suicide idealization, mentions of self harm, etc.

Notes: Finally dropping this here, posted the first chapter on Ao3 a couple days ago. Hope you guys enjoy it! Reblogs and likes are very much appreciated ❣️

Part 2 - Part 3

CHAPTER 1 - COFFEE.

Red Robin stared at the screen with sleepy eyes. He'd already found the solution to this case half an hour ago, but pretending he didn't was the only way to avoid being requested at the post patrol circus going on upstairs.

It was always like this, at least it has been since he came back to live in the mansion. There was the patrol, and after, Alfred would prepare a table with many treats for the family to eat while he patched them up. 

What a perfect, happy family, bonding after some quality time kicking criminal ass.

A herd of hypocrites.

Two of them tried to kill him and most of them didn't seem to give a single fuck about the matter.

But what was he expecting, anyway? He was the unwanted child. He crawled his way into this family when Bruce was too vulnerable to deny it, grieving, he was Jason's replacement, after all. The only reason why he was still allowed among the bats of Gotham was his hypercompetence. Or perhaps it was because of how dangerous it would be for them all if he decided to play for the  other team.

If you didn't fear the man who at the age of nine deduced the identity of the world's best detective, you were a fool. Yeah Bruce was a bad, emotionally distant parental figure, but he was no fool, and Tim had to give him the credit for that.

— Drake — Robin said.

Tim felt the ferrous taste of blood filling his mouth. The demon. He pretended not to hear. He wanted nothing with this damn child. This Demoniac being that had tried to kill him multiple times in the last few years. The kid who had never done anything to deserve being Robin, the title for whom Tim has worked so hard for years.

— Alfred asked if you plan on joining the rest of the family anytime soon — The little boy said with his entitled filled tone. Fucking psychopath.

— I am working — Red Robin simply said.

— You're not fooling anyone, Drake — He said, stepping closer to his brother — Staring at a screen isn't working.

— You say like you know anything about working — Tim answered, after a deep sigh — Please, leave me alone. Tell them whatever you want, say that I threatened you with a knife, that I pushed you towards a wall, whatever you want. Just leave me alone.

— You say like they would believe it.

Damian said nothing else, simply left without any other response from Tim, that sighed deeply and continued staring at the screen.

His eyes felt heavier.

“Funny” thing about feeling down: usually, the brain cannot understand the emotional distress and the body intentionally does things to justificate that distress to its brain. 

Some people cut themselves – Tim couldn't do that, Alfred would ask too many questions –; others refused to eat – Tim tried it, but it didn't really fit his lifestyle –; some people drank 'til they tripped and fall — He could do this, but the posterior headaches weren't worth it, even though this is Gotham City and he could easily find a place that sells alcohol to minors – ; some people over exercised until they couldn't stand anymore, hoping the soreness of their muscles would be enough to feel like their pain is valid; some people took dangerous car drives or tried to equilibrate themselves on the edges of rooftops – These were Dick's things –; some people numb themselves with smoke on his lungs – Tim could do this, but refused. This was Jason's thing, and he didn't want to have anything in common with Jason.

So, to try to justify his pain to himself, Tim never slept. Well, of course he slept, he had to, but he always avoided it. This was his way of self punishment. He could almost hear his brain.

“What do you mean your emotions are shit? No, this is not a good reason for all this distress. Here, have a unusual way of self harm and then I'll consider if it is enough or not”

Tim hasn't really slept in the last four days, not more than an hour or two. There were occasional long blinks, but whenever Alfred decided to try to drug his coffee – His best ally in his attempts of making the pain make sense – and sent him to his bedroom, he would only stare at the ceiling. Tim already had it memorised. Then he would close his eyes when he could hear footsteps approaching his door and pretend to be asleep until whoever Alfred sent to spy on him finally left.

A solitary life, it was, but he didn't mind. Since his childhood, loneliness was mostly everything Timothy Jackson Drake knew. His most loyal companion.

— Hey, buddy — Nightwing's voice echoed in Tim's ears.

Fucking traitor. 

The man with the kind smile that was responsible for half of the mud in which Tim found himself stuck. The man who took away from Tim the only thing that kept him standing, the only thing that mattered for him in a long time. This was the Dick Grayson, the “good fella”, Bruce's golden child, “The clearer version of what Batman was meant to be”. Dick Fucking Grayson.

Again, Tim pretended not to hear.

— Dames said you were still working. Don't you think it is time for a break?

— I'm not tired — Tim said, though Dick wasn't dumb enough to believe it. Anyone that looked into Tim's face would see how fucking tired he was. Deep and dark eyebags, hollowed expressions in his eyes, cheeks slightly inwards like the corpse of a very thin woman. Dick sighed.

— I know, but B misses you. We all miss you. And we are worried.

— There's nothing to worry about — Tim said, simply.

Dick sighed again and pulled his chair closer to Tim.

Fuck . He had to lecture Tim right now, of course. He simply couldn't deny the urge of being the reasonable older brother, the inspirational hero, the right one, the mediator of the family.

— Let's be honest, Little Wing...

— Don't call me little wing.

— Tim, we are worried about you — Dick said, Tim never looked at his face, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself from rolling his eyes if he did. He couldn't stand Dick Grayson's hypocrite smile and kind eyes anymore. He could barely stand his voice — What you said today during patrol... That joke....

— Joke? — Tim asked, furrowing his brows. He didn't remember telling a joke.

— You know, buddy. That one about the metro-narrows bridge.

Oh . That.

It wasn't a joke. More likely a loud thought.

Tim remembered that. He said that if Damian called him “unworthy” again, he would simply throw himself from the top of metro-narrows bridge, towards the cars. 

Tim has been "telling these jokes" for weeks now.

— Even Dames stepped back. Everyone did, actually. The family...

— Are you saying you are afraid of me?

— I wouldn't say afraid — Dick said, trying to sound casual — It's just the way you've been talking about everything these days. It makes everyone feel...

— Uncomfortable? — Tim asked, with a bitter grin, finally turning towards Dick. He could see the surprise in his brother's eyes. Or was it something else? Tim's guts were absolutely soaked in rage now — The probable consequences of what you all say and do to me make you uncomfortable, Dick? You can't bear the guilt? Or you're just worried your Robin will have to deal with the responsibility of the death of his predecessor?

Dick said nothing. Just sighed. Dick Grayson knew the battles he couldn't win. Dick put a mug in front of Tim. His favourite mug, filled with the dark liquid in which Tim loved to drown himself.

— We can talk later — The elder said — Jason made you coffee. He said you wouldn't want to have a break. Guess he knows you better than the rest of us.

— The perks of trying to slit someone's throat — Tim said completely out of spite, just to see Dick flinch in discomfort.

— Just drink before it gets cold, okay?

Dick left and Tim decided to not make another comment.

Red Robin stared at the mug in front of him, wondering if Jason poured poison into the liquid or Alfred poured the sleep drugs. Either way, there was no chance Tim would let it get into his system. He turned off the screen and grabbed the mug, walking towards his bedroom. In his room already, Tim locked the door and poured the coffee into his bathroom sink.

After taking a shower – He wasn't that bad that he would deny himself a simple shower, although he doubted it would take long to reach this point – He verified all the hidden spots in his room. Behind the curtains, his closet, under his bed. After making sure Jason wasn't there hidden with a knife, he slid between his sheets, soft and smooth.

Red Robin stared at the ceiling of the room where some years ago, lived Timothy Jackson Drake.

[bernkastel11]

Roise: Now you're a Bastard who's discriminative towards Shadows, as though your obvious unfairness towards Women isn't enough

Roise: I can't love you like this, Anthony

Anthony: But you're special and different from the rest!

Roise: That should make me feel happy, but I AM A SHADOW YOU IDIOT!

Roise: Also it's SO EASY to make a Woman feel like a special girl simply by making her different from the rest to you, but any man can do that!

Roise: I'm not really convinced or anything per say, considering how much of a threat you are to my species

Roise: What "difference" can you make of me Anthony?

Roise: I'm no different than any Shadow, I am a Shadow at core, do you think you're different or making a difference simply because you have a different perspective or method of conduct?

Roise: Being with you is the same as offending myself, doesn't it? You treat Shadows badly and I am a Shadow

Roise: What "difference" am I?

Anthony: Don't Shadows treat humans like tools? Don't they treat us like expendables they can throw away anytime they please?

Roise: Oh you don't wanna go down that route

Roise: But since you bring that up, I might as well treat you

Roise: You're right, there's no denying Shadows House treats Humans like tools and manipulates them, I was in such a position as well

Roise: However, don't you also treat Shadows like tools as well? Aren't we expendables to you too?

Roise: Perhaps I'm rude for directing the Blame on you and changing the subject?

Roise: But my dear, how can you say we're cruel when you're just as much the same ? We're guilty of things, but that doesn't make you any less guilty does it now?

Roise: Putting aside the matter of my Kind's wrongdoings? How about I start talking about you?

Roise: You don't see what you did as wrongs do you? You took advantage of many Shadows and is free of any crimes, why? You're different?

Roise: How does treating creatures of a different species as tools make you any less different than Shadows? There's no difference here

Roise: You're a hypocrite, Anthony

Anthony: Don't women love hypocrites? Don't they love that uncertainty in Men?

Roise: Oh please, that's trash belief, loving a hypocrite is the same as a woman loving a man who acted as though he hated her and then acts loving after all the hatred he gives her, isn't that such a terrible thing?

Roise: But of course, only a Hypocrite would say such a thing. Why would a woman love a Man that's unstable and can't even have the guts to act clearly with his own emotions?

Anthony: What you said, I can't say it's wrong but it isn't right

Roise: Ah there it is, Your Hypocrisy

[grennseyelashes]

Ooooooh, I am the last of the giants, my people are gone from the earth.

The last of the great mountain giants, who ruled all the world at my birth,

Oh, the smallfolk have stolen my forests, they’ve stolen my rivers and hills.

And they’ve built a great wall through my valleys, and fished all the fish from my rills,

In stone halls they burn their great fires, in stone halls they forge their sharp spears.

Whilst I walk alone in the mountains, with no true companion but tears.

They hunt me with dogs in the daylight, they hunt me with torches by night.

For these men who are small can never stand tall, whilst giants still walk in the light.

Oooooooh, I am the LAST of the giants, so learn well the words of my song.

For when I am gone the singing will fade, and the silence shall last long and long. There were tears on Ygritte’s cheeks when the song ended. “Why are you weeping?” Jon asked. “It was only a song. There are hundreds of giants, I’ve just seen them.” “Oh, hundreds,” she said furiously. “You know nothing, Jon Snow. You—JON!”

Jon turned at the sudden sound of wings. Blue-grey feathers filled his eyes, as sharp talons buried themselves in his face. Red pain lanced through him sudden and fierce as pinions beat round his head.

This is EASILY in the top five best symbolic injuries in the books. In a chapter where his entire worldview is being not just challenged, but deconstructed for him by Tormund, Jon misses something about this song that ALL the wildlings know the words to, something that's so serious it snaps Ygritte from tearful to furious with him, and then Orell's eagle attacks him before she can even say why. And if we accept the idea of a little "story magic", or synchronicity, where coincidences may be highly symbolically loaded, Orell going for his eye at this moment is very interesting. Perhaps it's a punishment for not seeing something, perhaps it represents an attempt to scratch the scale from Jon's eye, and make him see it. Or perhaps it's simply the injury due a hypocrite, in the form of biblical symbolism:

And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?

This parable is warning against judging others, as you will be judged by the same standard, and a lesson against self-righteousness and censoriousness. Which is fitting, as Jon is still judging the wildlings like crazy at this point. And as hypocrisy goes, a sworn celibate brother of the Nights Watch dismissing the idea there will be no more giants because there's "hundreds of them" is pretty impressive.

None of which tells us exactly what he missed about the song though (although it certainly hints at it...), and it seems very likely given the timing that whatever it was is linked to this injury. And we don't know if Jon ever figured it out. But given his extreme protectiveness of the giants as Lord Commander it seems like he may have. Orell's eagle only scratched the skin after all. So did the scales finally fall at some later point?

I'm not sure. But I'll definitely be keeping an eye out for it as I reread the rest of his chapters.

[rubberduckydemonking]

@unhinged-greed

Dearest Mammon, The Patron of Prosperity and Paragon of Possession.

It is with a degree of graciousness I extend this invitation for you to join me at the Infernal Palace for an afternoon of tea, sweet treats and a, much needed, catch up.

Date: This Saturday, upon the stroke of three.

Location: The Infernal Palace, Pride.

I am aware that you keep busy, if this arrangement is not suitable please RSVP at your soonest convenience.

With infernal regards,

Lucifer Morningstar

This was a mistake. The golden haired king had barely slept a wink the night prior — instead, he spent the night tossing and turning beneath his silken sheets, butterflies whirling up a storm inside his stomach. After so many years spent as a recluse, shut away from the world with only rubber ducks for company, something as simple as tea seemed like a stretch beyond his capability. “Pull yourself together,” Lucifer hissed at his reflection in the mirror, straightening his bow-tie with stiff movements, “You want to step up. No, fuck, you need to step up!” he poked a finger at the frustrated man in the mirror “…and step one of ‘stepping up’ is rebuilding your…uh, 'relationships', with the overlords.” Asmodeus. Beelzebub…Mammon. The overlord of Greed was a good place to start, Lucifer had thought. Sure, he could be unpredictable and prone to theatrics (perhaps a little hypocritical of the king of hell to judge) but, at his core, Mammon tended to be fairly easy to please. Simple in conversation. Lucifer took a steadying, deep, breath in and out. He shot a dazzling, perfectly practiced, smile at the mirror. It was just tea and cakes. How hard could this possibly be?

Squeak! Lucifer’s golden eyes widened in horror as he looked down to where a rubber duck lay, squished under one of his knee-high boots. It was as though time slowed down. The ducks. The fucking ducks! How had he forgotten to hide the ducks? He was so used to waltzing around the army of tiny rubber animals that they’d almost faded into the background — he barely noticed them. It was practically three already! There was no time. Speedily, running around like a madman, he simply shoved the ducks into every empty, hidden, place he could find. In the cabinet? That’ll do. In a plant pot? Sure, why not. Lucifer desperately stuffed as many ducks as possible into the closet, setting up an unavoidable avalanche of yellow ducks that was sure to unleash itself on him at a later date. Oh well, that was for future Lucifer to worry about! Lucifer stood, catching his breath for a moment. Fanning his heated face with a hand, he glanced down at his watch. Mammon should be arriving anytime now.

[theroundbartable]

There was a mission and suddenly Arthur's life was changed forever.

It was a mission almost like any other. Only that for once, he went alone. Because Merlin had said that he wouldn't last a day without him and of course that audacity needed to be corrected. So, naturally, Arthur took off on his own.

And now? Two bars, a ridding gnome, a herd of fairies, selkies and that odd couple made of a centaur and a troll later, Arthur had found the well he had been looking for.

Not that he knew what the well was for, nor what it had to do with magic. But it had to do with magic and that counted. Now, perhaps, he shouldn't have drunken from it. Should have probably researched what language was graved into the stone and what warning it entailed. One sip later and the well was gone. So much for Arthur's quest and his thirst. Now he had nothing to take from his quest to prove where he had been.

Cursing, Arthur made his way back to Camelot. And then, as promised, he realized that he was on the verge of being without Merlin for over a day. Just like that, he died.

He didn't even see it coming. It just happened. Out of nowhere there was a sword in his Chest and the life bled from his heart, where it was pierced.

Wenn Arthur opened his eyes, he expected to see the Afterlife. Apparently that wasn't what he was granted to see.

In fact, all he saw was a bloody sword on the ground before him. And his attacker? Dead. As if his heart had simply stopped in Arthur's stead.

And at first, it seemed like nothing. But during the years Arthur realized that this was his new normal now. No matter how many times he died, he'd never stay dead.

"i'm immortal", he realized after years of reign and during another battle which should have been lost to a sword or a poisoned meal.

Of course Arthur kept this from everyone. Couldn't do good to tell his people that his life was enchanted while he kept magic outlawed. Though it didn't take long for him to realize what a hypocrite of a king he'd be, if he kept it that way.

Arthur didn't expect Merlin to weep at the news. But Arthur also never expected to feel empathy for such a crybaby. Let alone the guilt he carried around. One day, he would leave Merlin behind. One day, he would outlive him. The only person he ever fully trusted. The only person he knew would always remain by his side, as long as death didn't pay them a visit.

Arthur is 60 when he realizes that he's not the only person in the castle who refuses to age.

Arthur is 80, when his excuses for Merlin run out of credibility.

"Hold on a Minute.", He says and stares at Merlin who innocently bounces on his feet next to the throne. "You're immortal, too?"

Merlin just shrugs. "I'm magic itself, remember."

"and you didn't think to tell me that?"

"i did? I send you on that mission to the well that made you Immortal and wrote you a message. It literally said: if you drink this, you won't get rid of me anytime soon. Signed, Merlin. Literal magic incarnate."

"i don't speak the language of the old religion!"

Merlin frowned. "Are you telling me, you also didn't realize that was a proposal?"

Arthur blinked. "What?!?!?"

Merlin: "i literally.... Omg. Arthur, i thought we've been married for 67 years! We live together!"

Arthur: "when was the marriage????"

Merlin: "the day you freed magic? Me? Bound me to your eternal life? You said you were willing to live with magic at your side for as long as you live? "

Arthur: "i think i need a moment."

Merlin: "as do i, asshole."

Arthur: "my entire life is a lie."

Merlin: >:( i am your life now!

Leon passing by: "you guys good?"

Merlin, to arthur: " oh yeah, i think i should also tell you that i tested the immortality water on Leon first."

Leon, on the verge of crying: "i thought it would kill me! Why would you remind me of this?!"

Arthur, at merlin: "you're lucky i love you."

[ms-m-astrologer]

Transiting Mercury enters Libra

Wednesday, October 4 - Sunday, October 22, 2023

(At age 65 I am officially elderly and a senior citizen - my Gemini Sun is a bit horrified; my Aries Moon and Scorpio Ascendant are delighted - perhaps this is my first real burst of “get off my lawn” energy, but lately I’m getting very impatient about long posts on my Tumblr dashboard. So as not to be even more of a hypocrite than I usually am, I’m going to start using the “keep reading” function more frequently.)

Back to quickies for the second-speediest planet-type thingie (the Moon being swiftest). And this is something I think we should all be grateful for - all of the transits through Libra this year, have been and continue to be very challenging.

The goals of a Mercury transit through Libra are to calm the mind - to wrap our heads around seeming paradoxes - and to truly listen to other people whom we trust and love. Remember, we just went through two-plus month’s worth of Mercury/Virgo multitasking, worry, and criticism! Simply put, our brains require balance right now. Where and how this all can go wrong:

Learning - we’re lazy students; we don’t (want to) put in the effort. Going for that “gentleman’s ‘C’,” instead of doing our best. We turn away from harsher realities - if we’re prone to wearing rose-colored glasses, we probably have them permanently attached.

Thinking and reasoning - can be cold and judgmental; Libra is represented by a machine, remember. We’re too “logical” for our own good, and can rationalize away anything our consciences niggle at us with. And again, we don’t want to spend time on “unpleasant” matters. We’d rather ponder the superficial.

Communication - we tell people what (we think) they want to hear; we express ourselves too pleasantly, or conversely, we’re too addicted to arguing; because we don’t want to “rock the boat” we fail to express anything uncomfortable - anger, dread, etc. (Actually, most of us do want to rock the boat, if not outright capsize the damned thing - it’s the consequences we want to avoid.)

My recommendations:

Meditate, even if it’s a stolen half-minute in a locked toilet stall.

Identify whom you do trust - if the answer is “nobody” then find someone - open up to and be honest with them, and listen humbly to what they have to say in return.

Most of us listen in order to respond, not to understand. Google “active listening skills” and put them into practice.

I don’t consider Libra a cowardy sign by any means - Eleanor Roosevelt, for example - for in pursuit of fairness and justice, Libra can and will stand tall and brave. We need to remember that we’re always working towards the ultimate outcomes of fairness and justice - it’s a difficult and sometimes dangerous path - and it can be done.

Another difficulty: this entire transit takes place during the “shadow of the eclipse.” It may bring up some issues we can’t clear up and resolve until after the “shadow” ends on October 31. By that day, Mercury will be halfway through Scorpio, and much more empowered and able to work through its problems.

Thursday, October 5 - Mercury/Libra inconjunct Saturn Rx/Pisces. The first little sign of adjustments needing to be made. Some authority problems; we may have to let something go.

Saturday, October 7 - Mercury/Libra square Vesta/Cancer. Lack of focus - or hyper-focus; if there is a topic we’re really interested in, in a scholarly way, that’s all we want to think and talk about.

Sunday, October 8 - Mercury/Libra sesquiquad Uranus Rx/Taurus. Some kind of delay in getting what we want - perhaps we bit off more than we could chew. If we’ve been intellectually lazy, &/or glossed over things, it bites us in the butt.

Tuesday, October 10 - Mercury/Libra semi-sextile Ceres/Scorpio. Write down any deep thoughts or insights; we can address them and work through them when Mercury and Ceres are conjunct on November 4. (Spoiler alert: that’s going to be an intense day.)

Thursday, October 12:

Mercury/Libra semi-square Juno/Leo

Mercury/Libra conjunct Pallas Athene/Libra

Mercury/Libra inconjunct Jupiter Rx/Taurus

We have a really intriguing idea but (1) partners disapprove &/or (2) the timing is off. Just because an idea is intriguing doesn’t mean that it’s also good!

Friday, October 13 - Mercury/Libra sesquiquad Saturn Rx/Pisces. Eclipse eve. More delays, though in time we may reconsider the delays as being blessings in disguise.

Saturday, October 14 - Mercury/Libra opposite Chiron Rx/Aries. Eclipse day. This might manifest as an argument, or a sudden hurtful realization about ourselves or someone else.

Tuesday, October 17 - Mercury/Libra inconjunct Uranus Rx/Taurus. An adjustment we really resist having to make, especially if it’s difficult or “icky.” As we tend to have to do come election time in the US, we’re forced to choose “the lesser of two evils” and not “the best.” This distresses and disgusts us more than usual.

Wednesday, October 18 - Mercury/Libra semi-square Venus/Virgo. Mercury and Venus are in mutual reception - in each other’s sign - which strengthens what would otherwise be some petty, unimportant annoyance. Take some deep breaths; it’s temporary!

Then all hell breaks loose, on Thursday, October 19 - Friday, October 20:

Mercury/Libra opposite Eris Rx/Aries

Mercury/Libra opposite North Node/Aries, conjunct South Node/Libra

Mercury/Libra inconjunct Neptune Rx/Pisces

Mercury/Libra conjunct Sun/Libra (aka the “Superior Conjunction”)

Mercury/Libra square Pluto/Capricorn

Our ways of doing Mercury are blasted. This not-new situation (something we’ve avoided or procrastinated having to deal with) can manifest as accusations of being “too sensitive” - or “too insensitive.” Someone is screaming, we don’t like it, and we’ll do anything to stop it and shut them up. We discover that we’ve been manipulated - or someone discovers that we’ve manipulated them. Really, really dreadful news, which we could have lessened (if not prevented) if we had only had the ovaries/balls to do something about it sooner. We can’t see any of it clearly.

The resolution to a t-square can be found via the sign not represented in the main action - in this case, Cancer. We need to be a little more tribal. What’s best for the tribe? How can we nurture and protect the tribe? We need to be more sensitive and responsive to the other people in our “families;” life does not have to be all about only ourselves and our egos/vanity, all the time. It may be wiser to go with our guts, for a while.

Remember: Mercury’s transit through Scorpio will enable and empower us to address these issues successfully.

[covenofthearticulate]

Pairing: Armand/Louis/Lestat

Opener: "I have missed you so much." 🥹

Send a pairing and a starting line! (listen you already know I simply HAD to write something based off of this response I had on my Louis blog!! this has lived rent free in my head for MONTHS so thank you for supplying the perfect jumping off point for me)

"I have missed you so much."

The confession comes between gritted teeth. There's a heaviness to his voice, and they both catch it immediately. There is no Mind Gift needed to communicate the level of concern etched across the furrow of Lestat's brow, the frown tugging at Armand's cherub lips.

It's a jarring sight to come home to: Louis in his chair, fussing with the threadbare sleeves of his sweater, the delicate features of his face twisted with ruinous anguish as crimson tears slowly collect in the corners of his downcast eyes.

Impossible, that this was the same creature Lestat had left only a few nights ago. He remembers their conversation so clearly:

“I think you should go,” Louis had encouraged him, upon reading the invitation from Armand. It was a simple request: come to Paris, help to renovate the villa while the weather was still warm. The invitation was open to Louis, too, of course, but Louis knew better than to intervene.

“I knew you’d say that,” Lestat had scoffed.

“I think it would be good for you both.”

“You’re only saying that to get me out of the house. I’ll come home to find all the furniture out in the street, replaced with something boring and practical.”

“It is a ghastly armchair, Lestat.”

“It’s a statement piece.”

“We don’t need to make statements.”

“I have nothing to say to him.”

“That’s not true, Lestat.”

“Of course it’s true! How many nights have we spent together gnashing at old wounds? How many times can we have the same argument? He probably only wants me there to insult me.”

“Paris is different. You don’t have to speak to him. Just be in each other’s company. Explore the city as humans do. Hunt. Be the companions you never could be before.”

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop being wise.”

“I’m giving you my honest advice, Lestat.”

“Come with me, then. Let the three of us walk down the Champs Elysses.”

“No,” Louis had said. “It needs to be the two of you.”

It was Louis who told him to go, Louis who sensed the importance tending to the old wounds between the two of them.

But it was also Louis who had sent that text, merely days after Lestat’s departure. 

He hadn’t meant to do it, in all honesty. He knew damn well as soon as he hit the send button that he would ruin their time together. But, see, Lestat had made the mistake of sending Louis a picture. It wasn’t the sort of picture Louis expected to receive while Lestat was away (and thank God for that, honestly); it was simply a selfie of he and Armand walking down the street. Lestat’s arm was wrapped around Armand’s shoulder, and Armand’s expression was ripe with annoyance, frustration, and irrefutable love. 

Evidence that we have not killed each other yet. Please, tell me you are proud of me. I love to hear you say it. xoxo

It was nothing Louis had not seen before. It was exactly what he had hoped for, in fact. He had every intention of replying with a simple “Good.” or perhaps even a thumbs up at this best-case scenario. 

And yet. 

The longer he stared at it, the longer he felt some strange agony in the pit of his stomach, like a red hot poker melting through him. The feeling is alien, but not unrecognizeable. He knows it for what it is, and it’s humiliating and irrational and completely, totally foolish, but for perhaps the first time in centuries…Louis de Pointe du Lac is jealous.

I miss you.

I miss you both. 

I cannot stand the thought of the two of you finding happiness without me. 

I know how selfish that is. I know I am being irrational and hypocritical. But surely, I will die without your love.

I need the two of you here with me, now.

And that was that. Lestat and Armand were on a plane home within the hour.

If the air wasn't sucked out of his lungs at the sight of him, Lestat might have made a joke, might have checked the sky for flying pigs because if Louis de Pointe du Lac is weeping, then surely the end of the world is soon to follow. He opens his mouth to try and say as much, but Louis beats him to it:

“You must think me so foolish.”

The thing about Louis is that he so often carries an air of melancholy with such grace that everyone seems to forget the hidden depths of anguish that rear their ugly heads when he is left alone with his own thoughts for too long. His approach to the masterful art of repression had been wholisticly different than that of Armand or Lestat; rather than numb himself entirely or run from the depths of his emotions, Louis had always drowned himself in sorrow because, perhaps long ago, he thought he might acclimate to it.

Instead, it only seems to twist him up until he’s worse off than before. It had chewed him up and spat him out, this time.

“Louis,” is all Lestat can think to say as they drop their bags, shed their coats and head straight for their lover in his trusty old armchair.

They kneel, one on each side; Lestat on the left and Armand on the right. Leaning closer, Lestat lifts his hand to wipe the tears from Louis’ eyes, but is shunned away.

“He’s embarrassed,” Armand translates, as he so often does. Beneath the curtain of black hair, he catches Louis’ gaze and knows he’s struck the truth.

“Embarrassed! Why—”

“Because he wants our love, and there is some part of his mind that feels humiliated in admitting that.”

The sudden rush of blood in Louis’ cheeks, up behind his eyes sockets, is enough evidence that Armand, as always, is right.

Lestat kisses at the sweet little blush, right against Louis’ temple as he pets one hand through his hair. 

“My darling Louis,” he hums. “I’ve missed you so terribly. Have you missed him, too, Armand?”

“Yes, of course.” Armand follows right along. If Louis didn’t know any better he’d think the whole thing was rehearsed. Sometimes they think with such synchronicity it's uncanny. 

“Perhaps we ought to show our dear Louis how much we missed him.”

“Yes,” Armand agrees, and he’s already moving closer, fingers already ghosting up Louis’ chest. “It’s good to be home.”