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#i still have too many feelings about this scene
letstrip-teamblue · 2 days
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Treat you like a lady
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• Your boyfriend doesn’t pay enough attention to you. Chris doesn’t like that.
• This is extremely cheesy!! That’s just how I am. Contains smut.
• Word count: 2,031
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Sunday
Today is a weekend like any other; you’re lounging on the triplets’ couch.
The tv is playing as background noise. Chris is on his laptop working on new Fresh Love designs while you lay next to him scrolling pinterest. You've known each other long enough that you can enjoy each other's company without forcing conversation. Simply being around him allows you to relax, and vice versa. You can’t find that with many people.
A sex scene causes the pair of you to look up. You exchange looks and chuckle like teenagers at it.
Chris breaks the awkward silence.
“Is it actually that good or is she playing it up?”
“Don’t know.” I shrug and go back to my phone.
I can see Chris’s brows furrow from my peripheral vision.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’ve never had a guy go down on me before.”
“What?”
You look up from your phone.
“…What.” You echo.
“No, what do you mean you’ve never had head before? You have a boyfriend. You’ve had a boyfriend for 3 months.”
Your cheeks get warm.
Think of a way to brush this off.
“It’s not a big deal. Not everyone’s into that.”
He seems stunned, gaze focused on his sneakers.
“... Do you do it for him?”
A sigh leaves your lips, “Chris-”
“No, listen to me. If he’s not reciprocating then the problem clearly isn't that he's uncomfortable. It's that he's selfish.”
Who does Chris think he is that he can judge your love life?
“This is none of your business.” You scoff.
“I think I should go.” You stand up and grab your bag.
Chris doesn’t give up yet.
“Okay, forget about that part for a second. When’s the last time he took you out? When's the last time he surprised you?”
You're struggling to swallow down a still-beating heart. You're avoiding eye contact with an angry version of one of your closest friends, and you’re trying to block out the possibility that what he's saying could be true.
“I’ll see you later, Chris.”
7:00 pm
Chris: I'm sorry. I overstepped earlier. just think you deserve better.
You read and reread the message. Typing out a reply and deleting it. Maybe what you need is space. You put your phone on do not disturb and crawl under the covers.
Trying to distance yourself from Chris would prove to be a waste of time because you end up having a dream about him.
“Hey gorgeous” a voice whispers in your ear.
It sounds familiar but there’s no one else with you in this room, so you can’t match the voice with a face. Whoever it’s coming from, their voice sounds like silk.
You're twisting your head around to try and find the source. Whoever’s in here with you finds that amusing because laughter follows.
“I'm over here, goof.”
It’s him. He walks over to you with a smile on his face and those big blue eyes.
“What are you doing here?” you asked
“I just missed you.” he says as he grabs your hand and twirls you around.
1:12 am
Well, that’s a first.
Monday
Chris opened the front door.
“Hey, I’m so glad you wanted to come over.” He said smiling.
Your face however wasn’t as cheerful.
“Yeah about that,”
You cleared your throat and walked inside.
“I think we should spend a little time apart. Like a refresh.”
His expression dropped instantly. You can’t keep eye contact. It’s too hard.
“What?”
“It’s not personal, it’s-”
“Did he put you up to this?”
“Chris , this is my relationship, stay out of it.” You say sternly.
“How can I when you’re all I think about?”
The air in the room gets thick.
“What?”
“I mean,” He scrunched his eyes and rubs his forehead. Flipping through the pages of his brain for the right words.
“I could treat you better than him.”
You laugh, “What are you talking about?”
He slowly brings his hand up and tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear.
“You know it’s true.”
He takes a step toward me, his breath on my cheeks.
“I can make you feel good.”
You involuntarily gulped, which caused him to smirk. He tries to hide it.
Your mouth moves but no sound emits from it. You feel paralyzed.
He must be bluffing… right?
“Let me show you.” he whispered, pulling you out of your thoughts.
You don’t know exactly when he stepped closer but your noses are now touching.
I need to stop this.
“I have a boyfriend.” You say in a meek voice.
Chris very lightly put his right hand on your stomach. You can feel the warmth of his large hand through your shirt.
“Does he make you nervous like I do?”
Chris' eyes fall to your lips.
“If you want me to stop, I will. Just say the word.”
Shit.
Soft, pink lips touch yours. You don’t kiss back but don’t run away either. Just wanting to take in the dimensions and texture of his lips. He starts to pull back.
Wait, don’t go anywhere.
You press your lips forward, chasing him.
It makes him smile into the kiss, which in turn makes you smile. The weird sensation causes you both to start laughing.
He straightens up.
“I wanna be with you too. Wo don’t know why I was ever with him in the first place.”
Chris can’t contain his smile. He covers his mouth.
“Sorry. I know I should be more… apologetic? I guess? But I’m not. I want you all to myself.”
“Yes, you've made that quite clear.”
You pull Chris back in for a kiss by his hoodie, it makes his insides stir. He places both his hands on the sides of your face, deepening the kiss.
You pull back for air.
“I should go tell him it’s over before things go any further.”
“Ok.”
But Chris goes right back to kissing you. Sliding his thumb across your cheek.
It’s so dreamy. You have to will yourself to stop.
“Ok I’m serious this time!” You chuckle. “Can I come back tonight?”
“I’d really like that.”
4:15 pm
Me: just left his house. whew.
Chris: im proud of u and so grateful.
6:00pm
“How long have you liked me?”
“Almost our entire friendship. I don’t think I realize it until you started dating Andrew.”
Laying on Chris’s chest is the happiest you’ve felt in months. You two have been talking about all the things that made you fall for each other. He’s been rubbing your back for the past 20 minutes but decides to put his hand under your shirt to enhance the feeling.
You sighed and relaxed even more on top of him, closing your eyes.
“Damn, you have some knots right here.”
“Ugh, yeah. That’s where I carry stress.”
“Here, lay on your stomach. I bet I can relieve it.”
Chris moves so you can lay flat. Once you’re comfortable he straddles your hips and brings his hand to the hem of your shirt.
“Is it ok if I bring this up?”
“Mhm.”
He lifts your shirt to where your bra starts ,then gets to work.
Maybe it’s the skin to skin contact, or the fact that your muscles were tense, but his hands feel heavenly. You can’t help but let out a string of sighs.
“That feeling good?”
“Yes, oh my god. Thank you so much.”
He chuckles. “Anything for my girl.”
After a few minutes of the same motions he decides to explore new territory.
He rubs his hands over your hips, your ribs, and now your thighs.
“Seems like there’s a lot of heat coming from your legs, baby.”
“You’re such a good massager it’s hardly my fault.” You tease back.
You try to close your legs together but he doesn’t like that. Keeping a hand right between them.
He brings his mouth right next to your ear. Lowering his voice.
“Do you need relief somewhere else, baby?”
While he talks he maneuvers his hand so it’s nearly flat against your clothed center.
You try to keep it together. You can’t already be at a loss for words.
You nod into his pillow.
“Turn over for me. Let me see that pretty face.”
Your cheeks heat up immediately as you position yourself on your back. The two of you make eye contact and any anxiety you had about intimacy with Chris is gone.
“We can stop whenever you want.” He says before kissing you.
“Let me show you how a real man behaves.”
He smirks and lowers himself to your stomach. Kissing your happy trail. Leaving tiny bites.
Since you’re wearing sweats he slides them off in seconds, taking your underwear with them. He tosses them over his shoulder and they hit some things in his dresser, causing them to fall. It makes you giggle but Chris is entranced by the sight before him.
“Jesus Christ.” He says to himself.
He runs his nose where your leg meets your hip. Kissing further and further. Creating a puddle before he even touches you. He licks your inner thighs. Painting them with purple marks.
Finally, his mouth is where you crave it. He’s apprehensive at first but once you let out your first moan it’s all over for him.
Chris sucks your clit and your mind goes blank. Nothing ever felt like this before.
“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me.”
When he goes back down he licks a stripe from the bottom of your pussy to your clit.
Your back arches off the bed.
“That’s it.” he says into my skin.
He’s lapping at your folds like it’s water and he’s been in a drought. Grabbing onto your thighs to make sure you don’t go anywhere. Not that you'd want to, but his actions do cause quite a bit of squirming.
“God, you’re everything.”
It almost seemed like he was saying it to himself. Like he couldn’t believe youre real.
“Next time you want something done right, come to me.”
“Fuck yes.” You moan.
When he lifts his face up again, your juices are dripping down to his neck. You’re so mesmerized by the sight you don’t register what he's saying. It just sounds like white noise.
Chris tsks.
“Looks like I fucked you dumb, huh? Poor thing.”
“Shut up.”
You push his face back down. He starts fucking you with his tongue.
“Yes ma’am.”
Jesus
Your thighs tighten around his neck, he squeezes them back as a response.
“You taste so sweet, baby. Like syrup.”
You can’t do anything more than whimper and grind into his face.
Chris grabbed the hand that was clenching the bedsheets and guided it to his hair. You happily thread your fingers through.
He touches you like you're all he asked god for. The sounds coming from you are his favorite song. This is the alchemy he does.
“Oh god,” your voice goes up an octave.
“Are you gonna cum for me, pretty girl?”
“Please, so close.”
“Cmon, be a good girl and cum on my face.”
He made you a whimpering mess. Arousal dripping down your legs, down his lips, on the sheets. Chris continues to reach his tongue deep inside you while drawing figure eights on your clit.
In an instant your vision goes black.
The next minute was spent shaking and catching your breath. Goosebumps littered all over my body.
You don’t know when but at some point Chris must’ve turned you so you were laying on your side. He pulled a lightweight blanket over you and was now playing with your hair.
“Hey pretty girl.” He said softly as you opened your eyes.
“Hi”
“You did so well for me.” He kisses your forehead. “I’m so proud of you. Don’t move.”
He quickly wet a washcloth and grabbed a water bottle.
You could drift off to sleep at any moment, but Chris made sure to clean you up first.
It felt nice to be taken care of for once. He made sure you were warm enough. every few minutes he laid kisses on your face. You were too tired to say anything but he could see how happy you were. That was enough for him
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Big reward. I meant for that to be a smut request, my bad.
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OMFG I BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE!!! Yessss finally some Valentino smut. I love it~ I’m honestly soooo inspired by @sweets4dolls and her Val x bunny!reader smut 🤤 literally so good. He’s so toxic. 10/10 would smash. Go check her stuff out! And I hope you enjoy my stuff too ❤️‍🔥
Notes: fem!reader, she/her pronouns, THIS ENDED UP LONGER THAN EXPECTED OOPS I’m gonna have to excuse myself now, geez 😳
TW: oral s*x (m receiving), DDLG, unsanitary, unprotected s*x, spit, creamp*e, rough, dirty talk, 18+ only MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Valentino x reader- Superstar 🌟💖
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“And cut! That’s a fucking wrap!” Valentino shoots up from his seat so fast his chair tips over behind him as he claps obnoxiously. Boy had stars in his eyes, even his assistant was shocked by his display of pride and admiration. “Damn, baby. That was a helluva show, fuck! That’s why she’s my favorite~” Val smirks as he eyes your figure still up on set, still down on your knees and trembling. He snaps his fingers, yelling out to his back stage crew. “Alright! Come get the vibrator off her, hurry up.”
Yeah…although the scene had ended and the cameras cut at least 2 whole ass minutes ago, you’re still in position waiting for the boss to give you the okay. Down on your knees, hands bound behind your back with thick pink ropes, your pretty lacy lingerie disheveled and drenched in all kinds of different bodily fluids and, of course, Val had one of his most sturdy and powerful vibrators tucked up against your heat, making you grind down against the carpet below you just to get off. The worst part- he made you leave your panties on the whole time. Finally, after a few orgasms had already wracked your body, the vibrating in your crotch disappears, leaving you only half satisfied.
The entire shoot, all he had you do was suck as many dicks as you could, swallowing every single load for the camera. Gagging on cock is hot to some, maybe not to others- but there’s something about how darling you look choking on another demon’s dick that just sets him and his viewers off. Your pretty lashes dusted with tears, your nose and cheeks pink, your forehead shiny with sweat, your bare chest covered in spit and cum, your cheeks and throat stretching to fit every inch. Not that you mind! You’d do anything for Val but damn, you were aching for a real fuck. All the vibrator did was get you prepped and wet and now you need some real friction.
“Everyone, out! Now! I need to talk to (Y/N).” As all his employees scramble to leave the studio, Val walks over to you, still bucking your hips against nothing now. He kneels in front of you, taking your face in his hands. You’ve been staring at his hard on since half way through taping and now that he was right in front of you, dick about to rip through his pants, you feel your walls clenching longingly. “Wow. Holy. Shit.” He lets out a deep chuckle as he stares at your face, your make up smeared under your eyes. “I did okay?” The question has Val scoffing as he looks you up and down, watching as your thighs quiver. “Baby, you did fan-fuckin-tastic. You’re gonna make me so much fucking cash, I’m not gonna know what to do with it!”
With his hands still holding your face, he pulls you into a sloppy kiss, letting his tongue wander into you immediately. You happily tongue him back, leaning into him as you struggle to keep your balance with your hands still tied behind you. Breaking the kiss, his large hands travel down your neck to your chest, his fingers giving your sensitive nipples little squeezes. Val looks down to see you’ve scooted closer to him and you’re still rolling your hips in the hopes of finding something to fill you. He eases your pain by gently thrusting forward, his hard bulge up against your needy crotch for a moment.
“Aww~ I know, amorcito. Such a long shoot with such an empty hole. You must feel so hollow right now, baby. Does my little girl need more?” Nodding frantically, you kiss him again before moaning your pleas into his mouth. “Please, fuck me, Valentino.” His smirk becomes sinister as he leans away, refusing your kisses now. His shift causes you to fall forward into him more, your tits squished against his stomach now. “Ah ah ah. Try again.” His scolding makes you whine, makes tears begin to form in your eyes. “Hmm~ please f-fuck me, daddy~” and within seconds, he’s tearing your once disheveled lingerie completely off of you, your strained voice making his dick twitch.
“Hmm~ yeah, that’s my little superstar.” Within seconds, he had you turned around on your knees once again with your face pressed to the plush red carpet. Val made little effort to remove your panties, leaving them bunched up around your knees. Finally, with your face on the floor, your ass in the air and your throbbing cunt free of the fabric, Val gets a good look at your eager pussy. He yanks off his belt and quickly frees his dick without even pulling his pants down much. He can’t wait much longer and neither can you.
He swiftly leans over, one hand on each of your ass cheeks as he spits on your hole, earning a whine of anticipation from you. With no hesitation, he sits up and thrusts into you all at once, filling every bit of you instantly. “Oh my fucking-“ Val growls loudly as his hands grip your hips, his cock immediately moving at an unforgiving pace. Giving you no time to adjust, he continues to pound into you as he leans forward, putting one hand on the side of your head then forcing it down onto the ground. “Ah~ such a clean little cunt you’ve got, just patiently waiting to be filled by daddy, huh?”
All you can muster up is a collection of moans, whines and gasps. Right as you catch your breath, Val spanks your ass hard and his pace slows. “Use your words~” Despite the stinging hand print on your ass, his voice is soft and sweet, so sultry and exciting. “Yes! Ah- oh! I’ve been waiting for you all day...” Your begging goes straight to his head, pulling a hearty chuckle from him. “You’re such a good girl, amorcito. Always doing exactly what I say, right when I say it. And you do it all sooo welllll~”
His thrusting had stopped completely now and suddenly, his hands are on your shoulders, pulling you up to be parallel with his body. Your back against his chest and you now sitting on his dick, he wraps one of his strong hands around your throat loosely and pulls you back against him before whispering in your ear. “Good girls get to cum sooner. You wanna cum now, baby?” And you couldn’t take it anymore, you began to squirm against him. “Yes, yes! Please keep goinggggg~”
And Val obeys, wrapping his arms around your torso tightly then helping bounce you on his dick. He is so strong, he is literally lifting you completely off of his lap before slamming you back down again, making your stomach bulge as he swelled inside you. A moaning mess covered in sweat, you had lost control of your legs and were now relying on him to keep you going. Now you’ve found yourself thanking the stars that you had done good today and impressed him. He was always willing to service his favorites and this was so worth the wait.
He moved one hand up to your neck again, squeezing it as he pants and growls in your ear. With every up and down of your body, you can feel yourself getting close, your tummy feels so full and your walls won’t stop tightening around his dick. “Yeah~ lemme hear you, mi cariño.”
Moaning at a higher volume now, Val couldn’t hold back anymore and he sunk his teeth into your shoulder, drawing blood. As a squeal leaves you, he keeps his mouth latched to you, still thrusting up into your sopping cunt as he licks the blood away. Finally, once you feel yourself fall off the edge of pleasure, your legs tense up against him and your hands bound behind you were searching for something to grasp. “Oh fuck~! Th-thank you, daddy. Thankyoudaddythankyoudaddythankyoudaddyyyyyyy~!” Your cries are harsh, babbles of appreciation pouring from your dry mouth as Val continues to buck up into you.
Without letting you catch your breath, he pushes you back down into the carpet, your weak body going limp as you lay flat against the ground. Panting and whining still, you squeeze your legs together once you realize he’s not inside you anymore. Not a moment later, Val was gripping your bruised hips and pulling your ass back up in the air. Legs shaking violently, you couldn’t control your loud whining as he thrusts back into you again, resuming the same rapid pace as before. Val grunts and hisses at the feeling of your slick dripping down his thighs now. “Hmmph…gonna cum in you. Gonna fill my pretty girl up.” With a firm slap to your already tender ass, Val lets out a rumbling laugh as you pant into the carpet, tears of overstimulation cascading down your burning cheeks.
Already so fucked, you couldn’t even close your mouth for long enough to form a single word. Your only option was to relax into his grip and enjoy it for as long as he lasts. “F-fuck.” Val stutters out as his fingers dig into your soft flesh. With one final thrust, burying his dick inside you completely, he let out a throaty grunt followed by soft sighs. It nearly brought you to another climax feeling his hot cum spill into you. After a few seconds of being still, Val slowly pumps in and out of you, lewd squishing noises sounding from where your bodies connected.
Another hard smack to the ass is followed by Val slowly pulling out of you with his eyes locked on your swollen pussy the whole time. Glancing back at him, all you could see through the blurry tears in your eyes was his huge, satisfied grin as he watched his thick load dribble out of you. “Mm mm mm. You are so delectable. Such a good girl.”
Without another word, Val stands and pulls his pants up, adjusting himself before fastening his belt. You had since collapsed completely, your body heavy and flat against the floor beneath you. Val stepped over your quivering form and skillfully untied your hands with amazing speed. Your arms came flopping down to your sides as you inhaled fully then exhaled deeply. “Get yourself cleaned up and go rest for the night. I’m gonna need you to do all of that lovely hard work again tomorrow. You can do that for me, right baby?”
“Yes, daddy~”
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gffa · 12 hours
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I'm so glad you mentioned Young Jedi Adventures in your recent post. I have a toddler who I watched the series with and you're right the show IS super cute and well made. It also is really good at showcasing the Jedi's lifestyle and lessons in compassion, teamwork, fairness, etc. I loved the peek we get into the lives of the younglings and how Jedi are raised. I'm kinda sad that because it's a kid show most people won't see it when it's one of the most pro-Jedi media out there. It might be aimed at preschoolers, but it's still good.
And it's soooooo cute!
I'm glad there are other people enjoying it, too! I can't blame anyone who gives it a pass, given that it very much is a show for preschoolers and that's just not going to be for everyone, sometimes people just need different things from a show, no matter how well done something is. That said, it is an incredibly well done series, I've been impressed with how good-natured everything feels, how gorgeous that animation is, and how it weaves in all the lessons that kids that age are learning about selflessness, teamwork, taking a deep breath to calm down when you're upset, and doing the right thing even when a shortcut seems so much easier. The Jedi Temple on Tenoo is beautiful and the younglings are so adorable and it's nice to have a very positive Jedi show that's just meant to be this cute thing for kids! The critter designs are astronomical in how cute they are and the colors are so vivid in every scene and I would reblog so many gifsets of the scenery of the planets the younglings go to! So, if you guys don't mind a show aimed at a preschooler audience because you can just watch it as a cute, fluffy thing, then Young Jedi Adventures really is a lovely show and it will give you a whole bunch of warm and fuzzy feelings about how sweet those Jedi younglings are, how beautiful their culture and homes are, how much the grown-ups really want the best for them, and how stunningly beautiful the Star Wars galaxy is:
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skitchskatchbat · 2 days
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Fiesty
Omegaverse Au Omega Houses, Societal pressures
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
Eddie had grown up poor, bread and beans were sometimes the only meal of the week.
He'd never imagined he'd be thrown from the poverty enforced by his deadbeat dad right into the luxury of his extremely affluent Uncle Wayne.
Wayne had been trying to find him for years, but his father's neglect and constant moving meant that Eddie was suddenly yanked at 10 from his little trailer, left for 2 weeks without parent and into his uncle's arms.
An uncle who despite his wealthy empire lived quiet and modest, lived only to look for his beloved nephew.
With Eddie's dad nowhere to be found and Wayne's immense wealth, it was easy for him to scoop Eddie up, whisking him away and transforming pauper to prince.
But becoming a 'prince' meant responsibility too.
Which is why Eddie aged 21, set as the heir to his uncle's logistics empire, was being forced to pick a mate.
Alpha, young and rich, there were now expectations of him. Not from his uncle no, but those around him, the company, the politics and try as he might, Eddie was not immune to the pressure.
He hated it. Hated that at every event or party, an omega was shoved in his direction, usually with no regard for the omega's feelings nor his own.
He could see the leering eyes of Alphas who wanted to manipulate him behind, the smell of frightened omega pricking his nose.
Wayne, a bachelor since his one true love in life Benny had been murdered in a freak accident, hadn't been sure what to do with all of fuss around Eddie either.
He chased away as much as he could but Eddie was still hounded at every corner, getting more incredulous with each day.
So Eddie found himself at an Omega House.
"Are you sure about this Wayne?" Eddie says, scrubbing his face.
"Really not sure what else to do, unless you've got a secret omega lover that you can mate?" Wayne asks.
They both know the likelihood of that.
"Think of it this way Ed, you could give someone a chance they need to do what they want instead of just being shackled to whichever alpha comes along," Wayne tells him, eyes kind, like they always are.
"All you need is someone you can spend time with for a year of engagement,"
Eddie sighs "Yeah. Alright, I just feel like those creepy alphas right now,"
Wayne sighs then too and slides a firm hand on his shoulder. "I know bud, I'm sorry, I am, trust me I'm the last person who wants to be pushing you to this,"
Eddie groans and hugs Wayne.
All he had to do was see if there was an omega who he could gel with, he just needed a close friend for a year. Someone he could trust.
Someone who could cover up the fact that Eddie had never been into omegas and never would.
He steps out of the car, adjusts his collar and a whole body crashes into his.
"Omega Harrington!!!"
Eddie groans, the body on top of his groans as well, scrabbling to get back up and Eddie looks up to see long eyelashes, a constellation of moles and a furious omega.
At least he thinks this hazel-eyed hunk on top of him is an omega because the scene is strange, different, not sweet like most other omega he's met. No this man in front of him has a tang of sharp bitter scent like the cigar room Wayne occasionally brings him to.
It's almost an alpha scent.
The man on top of him growls, full-on growls in anger, but it's not directed at Eddie, at the man who had shouted Omega.
"Not a fucking omega, how many times do I have to tell you or did all that hairspray fizzle your braincells?"
"Omega Harrington, we do not make a scene in front of guests," the man with a very stiff coiffe hisses and makes a grab for the omega on Eddie.
This time the growl doesn't come from the not-omega. No, this growl is deeper and instinctual, Eddie's chest rumbles and it shocks everyone including himself.
The omega and the 'not-omega' both stare at him.
"Please be mine,"
"What an interesting find. Mr Harrington, odd seeing you here," Wayne stands next to Eddie, looking at them both fondly.
"Mr Munson, oh, hi,"
"Would you like to come home with me and my nephew? We're looking for a trusted companion,"
Harrington seems to think this over and Eddie just stares at the man in front of him.
"You going to help me?" Harrington asks.
"In any way we can,"
"Alright, take me home,"
---
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Many people have a headcanon that the stranger who appeared at the Archerons’ door asking Papa Archeron to invest was Lucien, so I decided to write the scene! This is the first coherent thing I’ve written in ages so don’t judge me too hard😭 Also I have no idea what currency is used in acotarland so I’m using pounds because it’s based on Britain.
Lucien had not even seen a human house yet and he already felt like an outsider. He was no stranger to the feeling; it was how he’d felt when he’d first shown up in Spring, covered in his brothers’ blood, steam curling off his body from the fire in his veins, his ember smell and red hair both clear signs that he didn’t belong. However, at least, while his magic had felt weaker outside of his home territory, it had still felt potent. Even with Amarantha’s stupid curse. But here… By the Cauldron, this place was so dreary. So ordinary. If this was where Feyre had grown up, no wonder she was such an ignorant mortal fool. Her human life was so mundane compared to his. Lucien couldn’t imagine living here his whole life like this. 
Tamlin had offered to send an entire entourage to protect him, but Lucien had insisted that just a horse would do. He needed to look wealthy, not like a prince. He wasn’t going to be slain by two girls and their absentee father. Andras had only been killed because he had willed it. Lucien shut down that thought, not wanting to think about the pain he’d felt when Andras had died. His closest friend in Spring, most likely. Tamlin was his friend too, but he was also his High Lord; the relationship was inherently unequal, unlike with Andras.
At last, Lucien exited the forest. The clearing was even more boring than the trees. The ground was a yellowish-green reminiscent of dying grass, and every step was a loud crunch under the horse’s hooves. Pahhh. No wonder Feyre was half-dead when she’d first arrived. Then Lucien felt guilty for thinking that way. It wasn’t her fault the humans were left like this. Prythian before Amarantha had ample resources to help out the humans, but they hadn’t. They’d freed them from slavery to the Fae, only to make them slaves to their basest instincts. 
They were even worse off than the lesser faeries. Lucien’s eyes stung as he remembered Jesminda’s dream of an equal Prythian, the dream Tamlin was working hard towards. She would’ve loved Tamlin and the Spring Court. 
Calm down Lucien, he chastised himself as he urged the horse onward. Holy shit, Tamlin hadn’t exaggerated; these homes and buildings were tiny. He moved through bustling streets with little humans pushing carts full of wares of some kind. Several stopped what they were doing to stare at him. Excellent; he set himself apart plenty simply being astride this mare. 
As Tamlin had said, the Archeron home wasn’t hard to find. Mostly because of the lingering faerie scents that he followed all the way to their house. He didn’t remember human etiquette as it had been ages since he’d met one, but it couldn’t be that different from Faerie etiquette, right? Right?? Cauldron boil him, he should’ve done more research, but he didn’t think it would be that big a deal. Tamlin’s glamour magic that he’d cast as he kidnapped Feyre should hold, plus Lucien’s own glamour magic. 
He didn’t have anything to tie his horse to, so he gently descended the horse and led her near the side of the house, praying that she wouldn’t run. Then he knocked on the door, internally cussing at this infernal hat he was wearing. Some gentlemanly human fashion that he despised.
The door opened a minute later. Lucien looked down at a small woman who looked a lot like Feyre- only, her features were sharper, stronger. Her dirty blonde hair was up in a braided crown, her angled brows were arched as her silvery-blue eyes assessed him with a courtier’s precision. Lucien instantly recognized this one as Nesta- the older sister. Cold, cunning, and more beautiful than Lucien had expected. He gave her a practiced courtier’s smile as he bowed to her. “Hello, Lady. I was wondering if your father was home?” Nesta stared at him suspiciously, eyes narrowed. “What could you possibly want with him?” Another feminine voice in the background gasped, but Lucien maintained his smile, only replying, “He is a merchant, is he not, Lady? I have a proposition for him.”
“Our father hasn’t been a merchant in many years,” Nesta said coldly. Oh, she was a viper, alright. She’d fit right in at the Autumn Court. Unfortunately for her, Lucien had far too much experience with people worse than her. “Perhaps what I suggest will convince him to get back into it.”
Nesta looked him up and down again. Somehow, Lucien got the feeling that she could see through the glamour. Impressive. Lucien’s smile morphed into a smirk as Nesta continued to stare her displeasure. “See something you like, my lady?” Nesta’s eyes instantly snapped back to his. “How dare- oh just come in; let’s get this over with quickly.” 
Lucien bowed again, and unable to help himself, he sent a wink and grin Nesta’s way before he turned towards the man sitting on the chair. Lucien repressed his wince of sympathy at the ruined leg. That must have hurt a lot when he got it. He didn’t know the story, but it made Lucien’s face twinge in memory of his own eye getting carved out. “Does that hurt?” Lucien asked the man, nodding at the leg. The man blinked, as though surprised to be addressed. “Often,” he admitted. “Particularly when I try to stand up.” Unable to help himself, Lucien blurted, “I could give you supplies to help you with that, you know, Lord.”
The man cringed. “Please just call me Tristan. And I couldn’t possibly accept-“
“Please, Tristan. I insist. It’s just in my satchel here. Give me one moment.” He bowed to him and turned around, the scent of jasmine wafting into his nose. That’s when he saw her.
The younger sister: Elain. She had the same burnished gold hair of her sisters, but her eyes were wholly different; she had lovely doe eyes that you could drown in. She had a slight blush on her face, and she had an inviting smile on her face as she fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Won’t you tell us your name, my lord?” Lucien had fully intended on giving them an alias, but he fumbled on his words, instead saying, “I-my name is Lucien.”
“Lucien.” His name on her tongue-
“Pretty name for a pretty lord,” Elain teased, and Lucien felt his face heat up. His shirt sleeve sparked with fire, and Lucien hastily patted it down. Why was he so nervous? Elain wasn’t the first beautiful woman he had ever seen. “Why, um, thank you, Lady Elain.”
“How do you know her name?” Nesta cut in, and Lucien sighed. She was even worse than Feyre. He turned to her, letting that practiced smile return. “You didn’t think I wouldn’t know about the family of the man who I’m trusting with my money, did you?” Lucien tried not to laugh at the expression on Nesta’s face as he sauntered out of the cabin to get the faerie pain killer and tonic. He made a mental note to get new ones once he went back home. This man needed it more than him, and he could just get more when he went home.
 Thankfully, his horse was obediently standing near the side of the house, and Lucien rustled through his satchel, getting the two bottles he always kept on him. Then he strolled back towards the front door, knocking politely again. This time, the door was opened by Elain, who gave him that adorable smile again. “Lord Lucien.” Lucien gave her a real grin, replying, “Lady Elain.” “Please don’t worry about my sister. She can be a little…overprotective, but she means well, I promise.” Lucien lifted a hand to place on Elain’s shoulder assuredly before he remembered that humans were really weird about physical contact. 
“Rest assured, I understand your sister’s misgivings. I’m a strange man entering your home, and I know of the struggles ladies must go through in this world. I do not resent her for her attitude.” Elain beamed. “Does that mean you’ll visit us again?” While Lucien had been careful to avoid physical contact, it seemed Elain had no such qualms; she grabbed his forearm with her small, surprisingly strong hands. Lucien stiffened slightly in surprise. He was going to say no when he caught a glimpse of her expression and scented her mood. Her excitement was so contagious. “You seem a worldly man. Have you traveled much?” Lucien blinked. “Yes, I have.” He opened his mouth to say more, but his mind was blank. Cauldron boil him-
“Excellent! Then it’s settled then; you’re coming back so you can tell me all about your travels,” Elain said firmly. Lucien blushed again. Think of something intelligent to say! “As you say, my lady,” Lucien finally managed. Then the two of them walked back to her father, Elain’s hand still on his arm. Lucien felt Nesta’s glaring at it, but he didn’t care; he was glowing at her hand on him, and he was too giddy to wonder why. “Here it is, Tristan. When you feel pain, take two sips of this red liquid and your pain shall go away. Rub this purple liquid into your leg every day to help relieve the bones in that area. I shall leave them on this table.” Lucien placed them on the wooden table where he noticed Tamlin’s claw marks punched into the table. By the Cauldron, Tam. You went all the way with the theatrics, didn’t you?
“Now, for my request: I know of your reputation, so I am asking you to invest some of my money for me.”
Tristan inquired, “And how much do you wish me to invest, Lord Lucien?” “Twenty thousand pounds.” Elain gasped and Nesta moved to cover her younger sister’s mouth. Tristan stared at him in disbelief. “Twenty thousand? Really?” 
“Of course. Will that be a problem?”
“Well…it’s just so much money…”
Lucien resisted the urge to snarl at him. His patience was waning. “No, it’s nothing to me. Just a small sum to see what you can do. I’ll think of investing more if I am interested.” Tristan stared at him some more. “That sounds like a wonderful idea!” Elain exclaimed, walking forward as her sister tried to shush her again. “My father would be delighted to accept your investment, my lord.” Lucien sighed slightly in relief as Elain met his eyes. “Thank you,” he mouthed at her. She merely winked at him, and Lucien blushed again. Something was wrong with him; must be the human weather. 
“Erm, yes, of course I would,” Tristan said with slight confusion. “Father-“ Nesta began, but Lucien spoke over her. “Splendid! I could not be more grateful.” Lucien reached his hand into midair, searching for that small bag of gold Tamlin had given him and stored in the ether. At last, he found it, handing it to Tristan. “Here’s another token of my gratitude.” Tristan blinked, as if he could not possibly believe his luck, and Lucien handed him another back, this one with the twenty thousand pounds. “It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Lord Tristan, and meeting your wonderful daughters.” He bowed to each of them in turn before exiting the room. 
“Wait!” Elain cried, just as Lucien mounted his horse. Lucien turned to Feyre’s sister. He tried not to get distracted by her big brown eyes as she said breathlessly, “You will come back, won’t you, my lord?” He hadn’t planned on it, no. But he couldn’t bring himself to say that to her. “I swear it, my lady Elain.” She grinned then, her fully smile so brilliant it took Lucien’s breath away. “Until then, my Lord Lucien.” 
That expression remained imprinted on Lucien’s mind all the way back to the Spring Court.
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xinamiguel · 3 days
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there's so many things I'm excited to see/hoping to be answered in season 3:
who killed kyra's parents? not sure if it's an unpopular opinion or not but i don't want it to be yassen it just feels obvious and a little cheap, i can see her jumping to that conclusion maybe but i don't want it to have actually been him
is john rider still alive? thanks anthony for the tweet about that dude now i'm STRESSED
what happened between scorpia and the department? there's been hints in season 2 about the department being compromised (could just be me but it feels like it was more than just wilby), mrs jones' comment about something they (mi6) did in the season 3 trailer, them all thinking yassen was dead - it feels like a slightly different set up to what happened in the books like there's new elements that i'm really curious about
why was ian not surprised to see yassen alive in season 1? and have any changes been made to their relationship from the books? there's no connection in the books between them like there was yassen and john but they way they spoke in that scene suggests they know each other more than just knowing of each other via john, like "i'm sorry ian, i really am" "me too", they seem to know each other properly to some degree, was ian involved with whatever made mi6 think yassen was dead??
why is yassen's scar different to how it was in the books? did john still give him it and if so how? he has the scar in the picture mi6 has on file so it's something he got before or during working alongside john, not like he got it at the end of it all in some big conflict/whatever made mi6 think they'd destroyed scorpia completely
how will alex's time with scorpia change now that yassen is alive during it? will yassen try to do for alex what john was intending to do for him, train him up and get him the fuck out? i just can't see yassen wanting alex to be stuck on the same path as him, unlike yassen alex actually has people around him who he trusts and can help him (sorry john i know you tried but your betrayal cut deep and destroyed any trust yassen would ever have in anyone again so good job pal), he isn't doomed to be stuck working for scorpia to survive so will he try and get alex out?
what kind of dynamic are alex and yassen going to have? look i'm an absolute sucker for found family but idk how likely that will be for the show so i'm interested to see what they do, we have already seen how anthony has changed things up for the fans (i.e. yassen surviving) and the found family is a popular dynamic for yassen and alex amongst the fandom so maybe they'll take that route, maybe not i'm just excited to see what they do!
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beanghostprincess · 18 hours
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Sanuso with vampire Sanji not only has "I'll do what you can't do and you do what I can't do", but also "I'll feed you and you feed me"
Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod-
I love this. So much.
So I am not the biggest fan of writing Vampires AUs. I LOVE reading them but I don't think it's my style of writing?? So I never do. But-- But THIS??? Changing my life, honestly. Considering things. Thinking thoughts.
And it's extremely easy to make a plot for this!!!!!! The Vinsmokes are a family of vampires but Sanji is the only human thanks to Sora. Etc etc etc. Wano happens. Don't ask me WHAT happens but SOMETHING happens and Sanji starts slowly turning into a vampire. Worst time of his life for a variety of reasons (from not feeling human to being scared of hurting others and also all the bad things that come with being a vampire. Except for the sun thing because. Well. I want him to be able to be under the sun. Let's just say he's a mix between Vampire and Human).
It'd be so good to see Sanji starving because he refuses to drink blood and he wants to hide this from the rest of the crew. But Usopp inevitably finds out, of course, and he offers his blood to Sanji. And I am. Losing it because now I want to write a super homoerotic bloody scene in which Sanji is refusing to drink Usopp's blood because he doesn't trust himself but Usopp won't stop walking closer and closer to him saying that if he doesn't trust himself it's fine because he trusts him instead... And he says the whole "You cook for us all the time, so it's just fair. You feed me, and I'll feed you. Now drink before you are the first vampire to die out of stubbornness" thing.
I mean, vampires are like. Inherently romantic and erotic so this is just. Woah. Having a million thoughts. I need a MOMENT.
Also??????? Usopp being THE Vampire Hunter™ of the crew??? Imagine Thriller Bark Usopp x Vampire Sanji I am LOSING IT. Brain isn't braining. Maybe I die.
Putting aside the obvious nasty emotional bloody sex these two would have, Usopp would be,, So sweet to Sanji. Because he absolutely hates his situation and he isn't sure if he is ready to tell the others yet. Usopp is always offering him his blood and staying with him when he can't sleep and-- Adding little bat Sanji here??? Can Sanji turn into a bat??? Please yes yes. I want little bat Sanji to be the cutest thing and Usopp just. Loving him. His little bat boyfriend 😭 Usopp knows so many fun facts about bats while Sanji is like. So angry at first bc he has to learn how to change back and fly KJEJFJEFEKDJFNWLEKFNW They're so silly.
When Sanji doesn't feel human Usopp is always there to remind him that he is still himself after all. And Sanji is always scared of hurting him but also-- Have you considered Sanji only turning into a bat bc Usopp is even clingier with him then and he gets pats from his boyfriend? And he's always being so gentle with him too.
They mean the world to me!!!!!!!!!!! Vampire AUs my beloved!!!!!!!
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elsa-fogen · 2 days
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Oh, Husk and Alastor?
Their dynamic is also pretty interesting, they kinda feel like two people who everyone thinks gets along great and are the best of friends. While in reality their friendship is fueled but a fire born from their hatred. They just have many decent moments and have a easy time understanding each other, through they often use that information to serve a selfish endeavor.
Like Alastor would mess with Husk, tease him and Husk would tell Al to get his act together so that he(Husk) doesn't have to deal with some sort of fallout (ref. when Mimzy comes by)
In general, I feel like they do get along really well, but they are in no way friends. Kinda like how you can get along well with your boss, but wouldn't really consider them a friend. And you wouldn't really want them to involve themselves in your life, but that doesn't stop Alastor. (Social conversions? What's that)
This also makes me curious, wonder what kind of dynamic Husk has with Rosie, or rather, how do you think Rosie sees Husk? Just like a pet Alastor has? Or does she actually see the person that is there? (Leaning more towards her not really seeing Husk more than a errand boy or pet of Alastor)
Though it would be fun if the first time Husk meet Rosie he thought that she might actually be willing to help him because she gives of the energy of being a very kind person around people she cares about (aka Alastor). So he tries to talk to her without Alastor present and he finally understands how they get along so well, they are both the same kind of crazy ᵔᵜᵔ
So, um- what are your thoughts on the dynamic between Alastor and Husk?
HEEEHEHHE YOU GOT ME A REASON TO TALK ABOUT MY FRESH HEADCANON ABOUT THEIR RELATIONSHIPS
OKAY SO!!
I saw a theory that Husk had children when he was alive. Keep that in mind, it's a secret tool we wanna use later
So, little bit about Alastor. He is not the guy who owns many souls. In fact, he doesn't own any (well... i have some headcanons, but it's for another time). The only soul he has is Niffty, and she's... she's whole another level.
So one day Alastor get's Husk's soul in posession and he has no idea what to do with him. Their contract is basically "you'll have to do anything i order you" but it doesn't set any boundaries for Husk. So he can insult Alastor, argue with him and so on. The only thing he cant is to try to kill Alastor, but it's obvious.
So, Alastor's just... drags him around, and Husk has to just be there all the time, and watch Alastor do stupid shit without thinking, being manipulated by Mimzy into some shenanigans and so on, because he's too powerful, kinda don't afraid of anything and little bit unhinged. And Husk is trying to be that voice of sanity for Alastor (and maybe Niffty). Like in canon, he tries to warn Alastor about Mimzy nd at some point seems genuinely worried about him. Just a bit. And also, in that scene in final song, when Alastor appears again, Husk doesn't seem happy but still goes for group hug.
I think he sees Alastor as a child he has to babysit, but the child is so spoiled, that he doesn't give a shit about his warnings. Maybe Al reminds him of his own children at some degree. And so Husk is attached to Alastor in some weird unhealthy way, he cares about him and tries to protect, even if it pointless.
The worst part of it is that Alastor doesn't see him more than funny fluffy cat-guy-pet. He almost never takes him seriously and doesn't listen to what he says. So Husk may try to reach out to Rosie, to make her to reason with Alastor. But she's basiclly "i could fix him, but whatever is wrong with him is way funnier". I think she listens to Husk's worries about another Alastor's scheme, but she also trusts Alastor? I mean, she belives that he'll be fine. But if something seems to dangerous, she can agree and talk to Alastor.
After all, Husk was an overlord, and i think Rosie could know him before he made a deal with Alastor. So, i think she doesn't think of Husk as just Al's pet, she knows who he is. After all, not every sinner can become an overlord. But still,
So, last thing. I saw that one comic where after episode 5 Alastor admits that Husk was right about Mimzy and i really love this thought. I think Alastor also likes Husk's presence at some degree. Maybe they could build something healtier, maybe Alastor, after losing part of his powers, would listen to Husk more. But still it's all fucked up while Alastor owns his soul.
And also, i'd really love to see something of just Alastor, Husk and Niffty getting into some shenanigans together, this would be so much fun. Al and Niff who are just 2 unhinged gremlins and Husk who's done with their shit, but still cares about them and can't just leave, and it's not because of the deal. Like i imagine when husk is trying to reason with Alastor that he's about do something stupid and dangerous and Alastor's like well i don't force you to follow us this time, but Husk still goes with them because who else would watch after these two idiots?
So i think, i get your point about them!
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urne-buriall · 2 days
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so you've told me now you like sotw alternate realities. well here's the river scene were Dean opens up to Cas about John's abuse way ahead of schedule, mere days after the 4th of july:
“There are things I want to tell you,” said Cas, “and questions I want to ask. But I’m never sure if I can.”
“What do you mean?” asked Dean.
“Sometimes I want to tell you about my family because I think you understand,” said Cas. “Other times… I’m just not sure.”
“You could tell me if you wanted,” said Dean. He wished Cas would say. He wanted so badly for Cas to trust him. “It wouldn’t change anything. You’d still be my friend, no matter what you said.”
Cas slowly nodded his head. “Right,” he said. He turned again. Started walking. “I don’t want to burden you. And like I said, talking isn’t my strength.”
There had been a test and Dean failed it. He was sure of it. He just didn’t know what he’d done wrong. Had he come on too strong? Had he seemed insincere?
Maybe he was supposed to offer something first. Maybe he needed to be the one to break open that levee, the one that would never close again. To find out if they shared anything, perhaps it was on Dean to say, my dad beats the shit out of me and has since I can remember.
“Cas, wait,” said Dean. He caught up with Cas, then continued walking. He didn’t quite look over his shoulder as he said, “I’ll tell you.”
At the river. He needed to be still, not in this in-between space on the path.
And as he walked, feeling Cas trail slowly after him, studying Dean, he wondered what he was about to do. How would he say it? Could he really confess this? Could he trust Cas with it?
He went to a rise above the river, where grass and clover turned into a straight-edged bank a few feet above the water. He took off his boots and set them aside, bare feet coming to rest in the cool green clover.
Cas came beside him and cautiously did the same. Dean wrapped his arms around his knees, unable to look at Cas next to him. Nearly shoulder-to-shoulder.
They’d sat like this the day of the rainstorm, talking idly before the downpour. That night, Cas stayed over and wore Dean’s clothes. Had stripped to nearly nothing on the covered porch, skin gold in the light and shining with rain.
Dean buried his face in the crook of his arm and tried to forget that.
“Dean?” said Cas, patience giving way to desperate curiosity.
Cas would say he seemed upset again. And if Dean took an outside look at himself, it was laughable to try and deny. He lifted his head.
He’d promised to tell Cas. It was the only way to find out more about Cas in return, and it was something Dean wanted badly enough that it brought him here. He was going to risk everything. For Cas.
“It’s my dad,” he said, surprised by the weakness of his own voice. Shaky, hoarse.
Cas looked Dean over carefully as he waited for more. He gave a faint nod.
“He’s… Tough.” That could be taken so many ways and Dean knew it. “On me,” he added, like it clarified anything. “Sometimes.”
Cas didn’t shift his posture, but the lines of his face became more deliberately contained. He took a moment to say, clear and even, “Does he hurt you?”
Dean looked sharply to the water. Only because his eyes began to burn, because he was losing his grip on the control he thought he had. He wasn’t supposed to cry over this. He was supposed to bear it. He was just going to state a fact, a fact he had lived with for so long and was strong enough to deal with. And it would have been different if Cas asked ‘does he hit you?’ but instead he’d said hurt, and that was a different question, wasn’t it? It was supposed to be easy to say hit, yes and move on without the impact of that action. But hurt made it so much more lasting.
He winced, trying to find another way around the answer, but then he nodded, a concession timed with the tears that came bitter and fast. He quickly bowed his head into his arms, not enough to hide the catching sound his breath made as he tried not to choke on this feeling.
He wasn’t supposed to be so upset. He wasn’t supposed to be this reactive. He wasn’t dead, it was nothing worth crying over.
Cas’ arm wrapped around his shoulder, a solid warmth that gave shape to Dean, keeping him from coming apart.
“I’m sorry,” Cas said, voice deep and low.
Dean tried to push down his feelings, raising his face even if it was tear-streaked and flushed. “About what?” he asked. Cas had nothing to be sorry for.
“That you’ve had to go through it,” said Cas.
Dean had never imagined anyone saying that to him. He thought he deserved to be called weak for putting up with it, or for crying about it now. He thought nobody would care if it happened to him or not. That anywhere he might’ve grown up he’d have been treated just the same because of the way he was. Never enough. All the things John implied and made him believe.
“You should leave,” said Cas.
“Is that what you did?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t,” said Dean. “Sam—”
“Does he hurt Sam, too?”
Dean shook his head. He felt oddly defensive. Of course John didn’t hurt Sam. Dean would never allow it. “I keep Sam out of it,” he said.
“You still shouldn’t stay.”
“It’s not that bad,” said Dean, like he hadn’t been trembling with the force of his tears just moments ago. His voice came thin. “Not enough to leave.”
“Any amount is enough to be worth leaving,” Cas said, so certain of himself.
Dean retreated back into denial. “It’s more complicated than that,” he said. “I’m— I’m not a kid anymore so…”
Cas’ arm fell away from Dean so that he could look at him better. Which was more dangerous and less comforting than his touch had been. “When was the last time it happened?”
Dean rubbed the edge of his hand against his wet cheek, not wanting to answer but unable to resist a direct question from Cas. He looked down at the river and cleared his throat. “Day before yesterday,” he said. If Cas were to roll his eyes, it wouldn’t be undeserved, but Cas stayed perfectly still. Dean’s fingertips brushed against his throat, wanting to say what happened, but unable to describe that part. “He was mad I brought Sam home. Against orders.”
He dropped his hand again, but Cas’ eyes stayed on his throat. Where a fading bruise could be taken for a smear of motor oil. Cas sharply inhaled, putting pieces together. His eyes scanned the rest of Dean’s body, pausing on his shoulder.
“Your broken arm,” said Cas.
“Yeah, uh,” said Dean. Thinking he’d find something better. “Yeah.” There wasn’t really a way to allay it. “He caught me— We were arguing. About eventing, and Zepp, and I thought if I could just get away from him. And he caught me on the steps and I— I fell down.”
“He’ll kill you,” Cas said.
Dean’s head jerked upward, facing Cas directly. “No,” he said. “He doesn’t want to do that.”
“So he’s in control when he hurts you,” said Cas.
“No!” said Dean quickly. Because that couldn’t be true. His father loved him or could. “When he’s mad he just— It flares up and then it’s over. And he’s sorry about it.”
“So he’s out of control,” said Cas. “Which means you’re in danger. Every time.”
Dean parted his lips to answer but Cas had him in a bind. Either John’s anger was out of control and a constant threat or it was in control and was used with full intention. Neither was good for Dean.
“I don’t want to leave,” said Dean, and that was more true than any of the apologies he’d tried to make on John’s behalf. He looked down between them. “I just want it to stop.”
Cas took a breath, almost started to say something, then didn’t. There was a kind of understanding in that holding back.
“What was it like for you?” Dean asked. It was the only reason he’d said anything. So that Cas would open up to him in turn. Cas thought there were things they had in common that Dean would understand.
“Different, probably,” said Cas. He went quiet, struggling with what to say, his eyes gazing nowhere as he grouped his thoughts. It was far easier to talk about Dean’s troubles than his own. “My mother was… unstable. Religious. Which made her hard to live with at the best of times. Never knowing which mother you were going to get.”
Dean could understand that. John was volatile too. It was a lot of work just planning for what version of John he’d meet in any given scenario.
“Would she hurt you?” he asked. He used the same word on purpose.
Cas didn’t cry, but he looked distant. “Yes,” he said. “She’d… She had punishments. She’d drag me by the ear to lock me in a cupboard for— for hours, when I’d done wrong.” Dean knew without Cas having to say that ‘doing wrong’ could be anything from causing trouble to colouring too loudly. He couldn’t imagine Cas being a trouble-making kid, not on purpose. But he mentioned being different when he grew up. Too emotional, finding it difficult to connect. That would be ‘wrong’ too.
“If we didn’t listen or were found impertinent, she would slap us,” said Cas.
“We?” said Dean.
“My siblings and I,” said Cas.
“I never knew you had siblings,” said Dean.
“Four of them,” said Cas. “They never left. I think. If they had, I hope they’d find me.” He shifted, picking at clover. “Then again, they had less trouble listening or understanding the right answer. I could never seem to figure it out. I was… different. And because I was a… a target, I think they didn’t always know that they had more in common with me than her.”
“And that’s why you left?”
Cas looked away and it told Dean how much more complicated it was than that.
“You said once…” Dean wet his lips before he spoke. “You said you didn’t feel like you had a choice.”
“I didn’t,” said Cas. “It was either live the way they wanted me to live, or leave. And I chose to leave.”
That made Cas probably the strongest person Dean knew. And just as Cas found it simpler to talk about Dean’s troubles, Dean found it easier to think of all Cas deserved.
“Remember what else you said?” Dean asked, the idea lighting up his mind as a fix for Cas’ incredible loneliness. “That you’d want a place with fresh air and animals where everything’s right. What if that was us? You know, like, around here so I didn’t really have to leave, but not with my dad, and—”
Cas was looking at him strangely. Dean’s excitement must have been somehow out of place, or the idea unappealing when Dean included himself. Cas hadn’t been making an offer of somewhere to stay, for Dean, when he warned him that John was a danger. This must not be what he was thinking of it all.
“Sorry,” said Dean quickly. His face flushed again, not helped by the heavy heat of the day. “I thought— When you said that, it sounded— It sounded so nice. But you want that on your own.”
“No, not on my own,” said Cas. “That defeats the point.”
“Right,” said Dean, and he placed his hands on the ground beside him, about to launch himself away from his foolish entry into the conversation. He needed to get away from Cas. He was hot. He should swim. If he could bear to get undressed.
Cas curled a hand around the inside of Dean’s arm just above the crease of his elbow. It wasn’t an iron grip, but it was solid, keeping him in place when he otherwise would’ve gone.
“I like spending my time with you,” Cas said in a rush. It was like he was answering something else, something neither of them had said. He didn’t look at Dean. “If I could give you somewhere to stay, away from your father— If you wanted that, I would do it.”
“We’re just—” Dean hesitated. “We’re just talking dreams, Cas,” he said.
“Why should it only be a dream?” said Cas.
This was more than Dean had ever reckoned on. So heavy it felt like lifting a weight from the bottom of a river.
“I mean that if you want to leave,” said Cas, “then you should. You could do it.” He let go of Dean’s arm, fingertips dragging away from his skin.
“It’s not as simple as that,” said Dean, finding himself confused. In one breath he suggested buying a farm with Cas, and in the next that he could never leave his father. It was just that what they talked about sounded too perfect to ever truly exist. How could Dean put any faith in something that exceeded his wildest dreams like that?
“If I bought a house with space for horses,” said Cas.
“Jeez, Cas,” said Dean.
“Would you come stay?”
“Are you for real?”
“If I could do it this minute, I would,” said Cas. “I don’t want to say goodbye and know you’ll go back to that house with John.”
“Could you do it?” said Dean. “Is that even possible?”
“I could figure it out,” said Cas. “One word. From you, and…”
“You think we can do this?” said Dean. “Then… Okay.”
And that was all it took. Cas leaned forward and kissed him.
Dean didn’t have time to think of it or react. The press of their lips was warm, sudden. A dangerous spark in a dry forest. As he pulled back, so did Cas, looking anxious.
“What was that?” said Dean.
Cas hadn’t looked away from Dean’s face, although there was something to the way he held his body, like he expected to run. “I just—” he said. His voice was every bit as gravelly and flat as usual, but he sounded uncertain, a rare note. “I…”
Cas had kissed him. Dean’s brain and body couldn’t make sense of it, couldn’t work together in any sensible way any longer. His heart started pounding. The heat of the day made sweat rise on the back of his neck and above the lip of his mouth. He was frozen but he was supposed to be doing something. Running from this, striking out, kissing Cas, jumping into the river.
“I shouldn’t’ve—” Cas looked stricken now. “I want to help you and it’s not— I made a mistake.”
Wasn’t this Dean’s fault? Just days ago he had wrapped himself around Cas in the shade of a garden and silently begged for his affection in any shape. He’d had that untoward dream the same night. The colour rose high in Dean’s cheeks and he looked swiftly at the river. Cas hadn’t kissed him in the dream, only touched him, but already Dean’s mind was conflating the real and the imagined, completely out of his control. Dean had stared too long the night of the rain storm. He’d been wrong to and he’d made this happen and it was all because he was broken up into pieces and he got things confused and now there was this, which was too much to handle.
Next to him, Cas rested his forehead against his fist, eyes scrunching closed. “I’m sorry, Dean,” he said.
Dean’s mouth remembered the touch of their lips and wouldn’t let go. He felt they were reddened by Cas’ kiss, the same as that day in the attic, that day when enchantment poisoned itself into sharp fear and which was exactly like right now. There was something wrong with him for all of this. For the fact that he wanted to kiss Cas again and really know what it felt like. If he was damned he wanted to know what he was damned for.
“I’m sorry,” Cas said again. “I thought you were like me.”
It struck Dean for the first time what that would mean. What it would be to be like Cas. What it meant Cas was. And how if he were to say Cas was correct right now, that Dean was not like him, it didn’t feel at all true. How if he were to be able to act on what was true, that would mean giving over to what was in him. He felt so miserable and scared and all he wanted was for Cas to cover over Dean’s body with his own. To hide in Cas’ collar, in the very hollow of his clavicle, the place he’d wanted to kiss just three days ago when he stole comfort from Cas in the garden.
He dragged his gaze back to Cas, who looked equally mired in his own despair.
“Cas,” he said, not certain of what he meant to follow. And when Cas looked at him he leaned in and kissed him.
Cas lost a sound against Dean’s mouth, a melting hum. His hand found the small of Dean’s back. This kiss came with another renewed one, chasing it, then Dean bowed his head, breaking it off but not breaking away. His body shifted deeper into Cas, his hand clutching Cas’ shirt, his forehead resting against the base of Cas’ neck. Cas held onto him this time, cheek brushing against the top of Dean’s head. A hand came up to stroke through Dean’s hair.
“Cas,” he said wretchedly.
“It’s okay,” said Cas. As much as anything could be okay. For a bare second, Dean wanted to believe it would be.
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kerubimcrepin · 2 days
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Liveblog - Dofus, livre 1 : Julith [PART 10]
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These sweets are so appetizing...
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Due to the way this stall looks, I am assuming that these are types of candy that ouginaks and ecaflips love, and not literal animal food. Tragic.
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Things Joris wants forgiveness for: leaving a bestie with cops (after she asked him to leave), disobeying his father after he folded on their plans for 99th time, telling his father that he's CRINGE and FAIL using his real cringe fail moments, and running away while having a mental breakdown.
Danmn he's so evil and bad for this fr fr......
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Anyway, I think Joris's love language is gift giving and acts of service, and Kerubim's is words of affirmation and gift giving.
(This is wild ass headcanon territory because Atcham is a rarer character, but: Atcham's are acts of service and quality time. Source? It came to me in a vision.)
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The street signs in this movie are killing me.
The Dofus Pets 2 ad says Dofus Pets 2.
Cute ad! It looks familiar though...
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There ain't no way that these two pieces of art don't use some of the same reused assets...., I refuse to believe in that reality.
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Joris is dissociating and Khan is trying to get his dick wet. Their friendship is so special.
By the way, the fact that they cut the "Khan makes/lets Joris do underage drinking, with many horny Khan-loving women present" scene still haunts me. Why? Why must have they forsaken me this way...
I still believe Khan bought Joris alcohol on regular until the guy was finally 18. I want to live in a world where Khan helped suicidally depressed 14yo Joris have a "coffee with cognac in the morning, chicken with cognac in the evening" lifestyle, and it's like one of the reasons Joris is still alive or something.
My other thought on the topic is that Atcham (imagine him being physically 4yo in this scenario), taught Joris how to smoke cigars. And then he had the shit beaten out of him by Kerubim (also 4 years old).
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This is like his 60th divorce.
And he's never even been married.
Man.
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The reaction to the door opening is IMMEDIATE.
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THE PLATONIC DIVORCE #61 HAS BEEN CALLED OFF. But genuinely, it's so cute seeing how happy he is...
Joris thinking these things about him is his worst nightmare. AND the little guy is in danger. So, chances are, for a few hours he spent time thinking about how bad of a father he is, and how it's his fault that Joris is god-knows-where and in danger and also HATES him and will NEVER forgive him.
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AND the disciplinary action he takes is just so chill and cute... (cough-cough, my own thoughts on whether Joris was based for this aren't relevant, because 1. he ran off god knows where and children shouldn't do that, and 2. even though his grievances are valid, he did bring them up as hurtfully as possibly, with some really fucked and irrelevant things too, just to make Keke feel pain at that moment. Which is not something one should get in the habit of.)
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Your agonized twitching and worried faces have both bewitched me heart and soul.
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He's literally still infant/toddler sized... So small, compared to Lilotte...
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Sometimes, we say horrible things, when we're angry. They love each other so much... They're both willing to look past all the imperfections.... (throws up on the carpet like a cat)
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No commentary, I just like seeing him afraid.
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She and Kerubim have beef, as has been mentioned in many past posts.
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Bakara does her fighting with the same icy, emotionless expression, that she had during her conversation with Kerubim at the bar. This is her "I am going to kill everyone in this building" resting face for when Julith is mentioned.
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Kerubim is SHOCKED by how fast she leaped into combat. Also, I want to think, disappointed. This is too dangerous of an enemy to spring into action like that, simply out of rage, while having literally no combat experience...
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Because like, Kerubim and Julith are veterans of a war/multuiple wars.
While Bakara is a 20~yo, freshly graduated, alcoholic nepo-baby.
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Let it be known I don't like Julith. She is a fun character to watch, but... I feel like the fandom treats her as someone who's done no wrong, despite all the evidence we are given to believe that she is a horrible person.
She was framed, and she did love Jahash, but that doesn't take away from anything else. She beat the shit out of Bakara here, even though she could have restrained her much more gently, — she dug into Bakara's insecurities and called her a poor little fool too.
I really doubt Jahash would have liked that. (Same for her plans of killing a thousand people though, so, I really doubt she gives a shit about his wishes at this point.)
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She does THIS SHIT. Jesus christ! Maybe, just maybe, she would know of your feelings, because she loves him just as much? Maybe that's why she wants to kill you as much as you want to kill everyone in Bonta? Have you thought about that, you hot topic customer-looking edgelord?
Besides her hypocrisy, she was known for her ruthlessness, even before the war. There's a reason they still call her a butcher. Which is why I kinda dislike how often this stuff is swept under the rug by fans making cute content.
...I do support women's rights, but I also support women's wrongs, and Julith has a lot of those. She's tragic, but also evil.
Unlike someone like Nox, she makes no effort to empathize or connect with people who oppose her, and knows no mercy. At the very least, Nox had a twisted sense of morals, and could whip out an epic "you're just like me fr...." during a battle.
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imaginatorcreates · 2 days
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Commission for Toast aka @sketchy-tour!
Toast here asked me to make a tune for their Welcome Home OC, Dandy Leon, and the lovable Wally Darling. A sort of love song, if you will. Add on top of that an idea for a written scene between the two and you have this!
(Also I'm eating up your comments in Discord, please know that /pos)
This is my 29th creation. This is for Dandy Leon and Wally Darling. A song of spring, being in bloom, and many references to Dandy's Delights (for this is a tune with Dandy in it!). The goobers are waltzing in the garden and having fun little stumbles, but they're enjoying themselves because the world is in bloom.
Painted Flowers
25 March 2024 — 26 March 2024
Summary: Wally wants to paint someone to day. But who should he paint? Barnaby suggests to him, "Why not Dandy?"
Word Count: ~2.8k words
TW: None
Author’s Note: Enjoy! Also on AO3 as a gift.
One day, Wally Darling woke up and decided that he was going to paint today.
If someone were to ask him why, like his best friend did when the large blue pooch stopped by the painter’s sentient house, he couldn’t explain it. “I just want to paint today, Barnaby,” Wally said in his signature monotonous voice. He pocketed some of his paintbrushes and tubes of acrylic paint in the pockets of his blue cardigan as he added, “I have a problem, though.”
“Eh? What’s botherin’ my lil’ apple today?” Barnaby B. Beagle asked as he leaned against Home’s outer walls. The dark blue ear closest to the front door perked up as he joked, “Ain’t it too early to feel gray? I thought that was Frank’s job!” The dog howled in laughter, then in mock pain as Home lightly smacked him with his door. “Alright, alright! I get it Home!”
Wally laughed a quiet little “Ha ha ha,” even though he didn’t quite get what was funny about the joke. The few times he had asked Barnaby to explain a joke to him, his best friend had groaned and placed a paw over his snout.
“A joke ain’t funny if I hafta explain it,” he had said, “but for you, lil’ buddy, fine. I will.” Barnaby had patted his shoulder to show that he meant no ill will with his tone, but that night and for the next few ones, Wally had tried and failed to squash the thought that he might’ve ruined his best friend’s jokes forever.
“Home, I get it. No makin’ fun of the sourpuss– Home!” Barnaby let out a few more laughs, then thumped at his chest twice as he cleared his throat. “Lil’ buddy, ya said ya had a problem?”
“Oh, yes. I have a problem.” Wally wordlessly gave Barnaby a blank canvas, then his folded wooden easel. The former was off white and lightly textured, while the latter was light brown with splatters of miscellaneous colors. The hinges were squeaky with use and no longer smelled of wood but instead, it smelled faintly of chemicals from the paints he used.
It was bad for him, according to Frank and Poppy, but he found it comforting. Could something that was bad also be comforting? He would have to ask someone about it.
But, that was for later. Another problem for later.
“I don’t know what to paint,” Wally said as he grabbed his palette, stepped outside, and closed the door. He craned his neck up, took a few steps away from his taller friend, then craned his neck a little less. “I don’t feel like painting red apples. But I like painting red apples. I don’t feel like painting you, but I like painting you too.” He fiddled with one of his paintbrushes, running the clean bristles over his fingers as he asked, “What should I do, Barnaby?”
“Well, gee Walls.” Barnaby furrowed his brow as he exhaled through his nose. “How’s about ya paint one of your neighbors?”
“Oh. That’s a good idea.” Wally paused stroking his fingertips with the paintbrush bristles, then resumed as another problem made itself apparent. “But who? Who should I paint today Barnaby?”
“Well, you can’t paint me! You said you didn’t wanna.”
“I still love you Barnaby.”
“Yeah, love ya too.” Barnaby started to thump his foot on the ground, quietly letting out a low growl as he thought. “Who have ya painted?”
“I’ve painted you, Barnaby. I’ve painted Julie, and I’ve painted Frank. I’ve painted Sally, and I’ve painted Poppy. I’ve painted Eddie, and I’ve painted Howdy.” Wally counted off each neighbor on each of his fingers, and he was left with one finger left standing. “I’ve tried to paint Home, but Home is very large and requires a lot of time. I will finish Home’s portrait soon.”
Home creaked an apology.
“It’s okay Home.”
“Huh. How about ya paint one of our other neighbors?” Barnaby asked. “How’s about that one with the sunflowers in their yard? Dandy?”
“Dandy?” Wally stopped brushing his fingertips as the name bounced around his head, trying to attach itself to a face. Sunflowers in their yard…green…brown hat…flowers. But not Julie’s type of flowers. Julie’s flowers were loud and vibrant, brave and running towards what she loved. Flowers attached to Dandy’s name were bright, yes, but they were gentle. They curled away from harsh words and they bloomed in the quiet moments.
The painter gasped. “Oh! Yes! I should paint Dandy!” Almost at once, the floodgates in his brain opened. Ideas flooded his mind, breaking through darkness with shades of green and yellow and red. He almost wished that he was as big as Barnaby so he could walk further with each step. His plans of painting couldn’t wait!
Barnaby let out a howl of laughter and gestured to the main road with a jerk of his head. “C’mon lil’ apple. Let go get your sunflower’s portrait painted.”
“My sunflower?” Wally asked as the pair started on the journey to the gardener’s house. “Barnaby, the sunflowers belong to Dandy. And I will be painting Dandy, not their sunflowers.”
The blue dog snickered. “Alright lil’ buddy.”
Wally didn’t understand that joke either.
The sun shone down on the pair of best friends as they approached the earthy-colored house. Even from a distance, the yellow flowers stood tall towards the sun, almost greeting them with how they were turned towards them. Some were lightly tied to wooden stakes, but they still looked healthy.
Standing next to the sunflowers was a puppet with green felt, short and fluffy brown hair, and squarish glasses on their face. The sleeves of their brown cardigan were partially rolled up as they inspected some of the leaves of the sunflowers, their face deep in concentration as their mouth moved slightly with words that were too quiet to hear.
“Heya Dandy!” Barnaby barked out as the distance between the puppets started to close.
Dandy jumped and looked up from their work. Their eyes widened and they scrambled to dust off their clothes, roll down their sleeves, and step out of the thick of their sunflowers. “Wally! Barnaby!” they called back. “What can I do for y’all?”
“Funny, they called your name first Walls,” Barnaby murmured.
“That was supposed to be funny?” Wally asked.
“Eh.” Barnaby shrugged and turned his attention back to Dandy. “Wally here wants to paint ya.”
Wally watched as Dandy’s gaze rapidly turned to him, hovered for a moment too long, then turned back to his best friend. “Me?” the gardener asked as they pointed to themself. Their gaze turned back to Wally as they repeated, “You want to paint me?”
“Yes,” Wally breathed. “I want to paint you, Dandy.”
“I — ” The gardener's hands started to wave dismissively as their eyes dropped to the ground. “I don’t think I’m good enough to be painted! I’m a mess, and I have dirt on my hands. My hair is messy, and I have to send some flowers to Howdy’s — ”
With one swift motion, Barnaby unfolded Wally’s easel and placed it down nearby. He then patted Dandy’s head and chuckled at the yelp of surprise the gardener let out. “Re-lax Dandy. Walls here ain’t gonna eat cha alive!”
Wally’s fingers tightened around his cardigan for a brief moment. His eyes itched.
Not today. Not today.
Barnaby placed the blank canvas down on the empty easel and patted Wally on the shoulder before he bid the two shorter puppets farewell and walked away. ���Peace out ‘n have fun! I’ll be at Howdy’s if ya need me!”
Wally waved goodbye to the blue dog, then turned his attention back to Dandy. “I will be painting you soon, neighbor.”
“Wally,” Dandy murmured. They kept looking at the ground, their voice even quieter than when Barnaby was there. Their brows were furrowed slightly and their mouth was pressed together in a thin line. “You don’t have to paint me. I think there are better neighbors to paint than lil’ ol’ me,” they chuckled. At the last half of their sentence, they sounded a bit like Eddie.
“I want to,” Wally countered. “I really do want to paint you.” He started to take out some of the acrylic tubes and laid them on the excess wood of the easel. He untwisted some of the caps to loosen them up, then carefully squeezed a bit of paint onto his palette one at a time. A bit of black and white in the corner for mixing, then green here and yellow there. Blue as well, and brown was very important.
“I woke up today and wanted to paint,” he confessed. “But I didn’t want to paint red apples or Barnaby, even though I love both red apples and Barnaby very much. Oh, thank you Dandy.”
The gardener blushed as they helped screw the caps of the paints back on. “I can getcha a cup of water for your paints. And a stool, if you want one.”
“A stool for the paint water would be nice, thank you.”
As Dandy hurriedly walked inside their house, Wally made it his mission to stare at the blank canvas with a paintbrush in one hand and his palette in the other. He had the subject, and he had the colors. He had the idea, no matter how faint it was. But now that he was here, with his subject nearby and with his colors laid out, the idea was rapidly vanishing.
His grip on the paintbrush tightened. The pose. How should Dandy pose? And any objects? Should they be holding anything in their hands? How much of Dandy should he paint?
He wanted to paint today, that he knew. But why was it so hard to paint?
“ —lly? Wally?”
The pompadoured puppet let in a sharp inhale of air and turned towards the voice.
Dandy gasped in return, backing away slightly. They bumped against the stool where an old cup filled with water sat, and they cried out to catch it as it wobbled precariously. “Golly! I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Wally said. He found his voice again — again; he was losing it…what year was it? — and forced himself to take a slow, calm breath. “I still want to paint you, Dandy. But, I’m having trouble imagining how I want to paint you.”
“Paint me however you want Wally, and I’m sure it’ll look nice.” Dandy’s gaze alternated between him and the ground, and their felt still showed hints of a blush. Pinkish, maybe red.
Like apples.
Wally slowly raised his paintbrush and started to circle it in midair, pretending that the ends of the brush were covered in red paint. He brushed an imaginary stroke upwards to make a stem, then two smooth lines to make a leaf. He liked apples. Those were the first things he painted.
What did Dandy like?
“Oh!” he gasped. “Dandy, can I paint you with sunflowers?”
“Sunflowers?” Dandy repeated. “The tall ones or the ones I picked earlier for Howdy’s?”
Wally paused. He looked at the sunflowers that towered above their heads nearby. Instead of looking friendly, they now looked intimidating. “I want to paint you with the sunflowers closer to your face.”
“My face? Oh, you’re going to paint my face?” Dandy’s hands waved, though not as erratically as Julie. “Can’t I hide behind my sunflowers? I’m a mess like I said and the sunflowers are more beautiful than I am and — ”
“Dandy.”
Dandy stopped.
“I think my neighbors look beautiful on my canvas because I paint what I see.” Wally’s smile widened as he added, “And I think the painting I want to do with you and your sunflowers will be beautiful too.”
If Dandy’s face could turn into a pretty red apple, it would. The gardener sputtered something before they stumbled away and stumbled back with a large bouquet of sunflowers in their hands. Dozens of yellow petals shone outwards, almost giving Sally a challenger for the brightest one in the neighborhood. In their centers, hundreds of seeds created a dark contrast.
In the middle of it all, Dandy’s face was buried in it.
Wally didn’t mind so much. He needed to paint the sunflowers first.
So began the long and slow process of mixing colors to create the right shade, then applying them onto the canvas in gentle strokes. The petals were abstract shapes at first, radiating from a circle of darkness in the center. As Wally switched brushes and added details, the sunflowers gained personality. Individual petals started to differentiate, and someone could pluck out the seeds if they wished to.
He dipped the brush in the murky paint water and started on the puppet. He looked around the canvas and saw Dandy’s face still buried in the sunflowers.
That was no good.
He placed the paintbrush on the stool and slowly approached them. “Dandy. Could you lift your face up please? I need to paint it.”
Dandy hesitantly complied, but most of their face was still covered by yellow petals. “The sunflowers are more beautiful,” they faintly insisted. “They’re in bloom.”
“You are in bloom too,” Wally said. Despite his brush hand smelling slightly of paint, he reached out and cupped his hand against Dandy’s cheek. He gently lifted their warm face up and out of the sunflowers and said, “You are in bloom, Dandy. Like the sunflowers, and the apple blossoms.
“I woke up and wanted to paint today. I wanted to paint, and you are in bloom. Why should I not paint a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers and the neighbor that grew them?”
A long, palpable pause stretched out between the two. Wally wondered if he made a mistake with this. He knew that Frank didn’t like to be touched very often, so what if Dandy was the same?
Then, Dandy slowly smiled. Their smile radiated through the sunflowers, and for a second, Wally thought that the gardener was the most pretty flower he’d seen.
His own smile widened and he withdrew his hand. “This…this is the most! I will paint this now!” He swiftly came back to his canvas and started mixing the right shade of green. The portrait slowly came together. First the general shape, then the details. The highlights came last. A few broad strokes for a blue sky, and…!
“Dandy, it’s done.” Wally placed each used paintbrush into the murky paint water, one by one as he waited for the subject of his painting to shuffle around the easel to look at his work.
On the canvas, were dozens of sunflowers arranged in a strong bouquet intermixed with delicate petals. The sunflowers themselves were made of strokes of yellow and circles of black, highlighted by elegant lines that made each detail pop. In the middle of it all, was a puppet whose smile was the centerpiece of the painting. Eyes slightly squinted shut from how wide they were smiling, a hint of red on their cheeks, and hands that held the entire bouquet together by their stems.
A gasp followed by a squeal of joy. Hand waving and heel bouncing briskly followed, alongside quiet bursts of “It’s so beautiful!” and “The detail on the sunflowers!”
Wally watched Dandy go through several levels of joy and awe, and the semi-permanent smile on his face softened. His partially-lidded eyes took in the small details: brown eyes that sparkled at the work of art on the canvas; the little yellow flower on their hat that never wilted; gentle flowers that reached towards the sun, fingers curling around the drops of light and holding it close.
Quiet.
“Do you want to keep it?”
“I…I shouldn’t.” The light was escaping from their fingertips.
Did he do that?
“I insist. I would be honored if you took it.” Wally gingerly took the still-drying painting and held it out towards Dandy. “I want you to have it.”
Dandy’s mouth pressed into a thin line as they looked down at the ground for a moment, then thrust the sunflowers in front of them. “Take these. I’d feel bad if you didn't have something in return. I can always get more for Howdy, it’s not a big deal.”
The next minutes were spent juggling an exchange; between trying not to touch any paint on the canvas and not dropping any sunflowers on the ground, the two spent an excessive amount of time trying to give each other the items. In the end, Dandy was left holding their portrait and Wally had a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand.
Dandy lightly bounced inside their house, and Wally was left outside with a sunny-smelling bundle of flowers counteracting against the chemical scent of his acrylics. He buried his face within the flowers and deeply inhaled. Between strong whiffs of paint, he breathed in drops of sunlight.
“The most,” he exhaled. “These are the most.”
For the next several days, anyone who peeked in the window of Home could catch a glimpse of a vase filled with cut sunflowers. They were perky and alive, and it certainly complimented a fresh red apple that always sat next to the vase for as long as the sunflowers lived.
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captain-hen · 3 days
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The whole eddie thing sucks :( i think fandom / newer fans sometime have a fixation on buck and his character simply because the show gives him way more plots and development opportunities relative to eddie. And if new fans are in it because of s6 like what else are they supposed to do when eddie had all of 4 episode with a plot last year, only 2 of which were connected, and likely his most formative moment of the season for many people was as a support character to buck (crazy that eddie talks about the shooting in 612 but the scene boils down to “eddie is buck’s couch” or some variation of that for most people). Kinda curious if others feel this way but sometimes I think this also extends to eddie’s family too which might be my biggest pet peeve. Like buck’s parents dont care about buck then eddie’s parents must not care about him in the same way which is so wrong like eddies parents suck for various reasons but they do care, maybe just not in the way eddie needs/wants. Or even more simple things like abuela loving buck so much and like not having a single interaction with eddie. And idk eddie’s relationship with his family (including shannon) is probably the most interesting part of his character that hasnt been fully explored in canon yet so its just kinda annoying to read a fic where eddie’s parents are only raging homophobics or only care about chris with no regard for eddie. Anyways sorry for the mini rant lol
...i think fandom would have a fixation on buck regardless, because despite s6 being the way it was, we still have four other seasons where eddie actually got proper plot points and arcs.
oh, and i do agree that it extends to eddie's family—eddie's relationships in general, really, because it's always stuff like "buck is a better dad to chris than eddie!" "buck is actually the favorite of eddie's abuela/tia/etc." "the firefam is more of buck's family than eddie's!" "bobby is only a father-in-law figure to eddie and actually only ever hired him for buck's sake."
(and it's ironic because i cannot remember eddie ever having a single conversation about buck with all of the characters mentioned. lol. it's almost like he's his own person, having relationships that have absolutely nothing to do with buck. shocking, i know.)
and, yeah, the stuff with shannon gets bad, because you have the people who are obsessed with the idea of eddie never actually loving her, so that buck can be his 'first real love' or whatever. these are the same blogs who get upset when eddie speaks positively about his relationship with shannon. it's so, so dumb. and there's absolutely no nuance to be explored with eddie's parents, yeah. it's just 🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️
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flymmsy · 6 hours
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on the scale of 1-10 delulu, how likely do you think some new evil gortash ending being made is?
I think it's 50-50, so I guess that converts to a level 5 Delulu.
Why I think it might be happening
1. The Dialogue Bug - I think it’s suspicious that a relatively simple bug (that has been confirmed as a bug) has gone unfixed through so many hotfixes.
EDIT: It’s a common misconception that Hotfix 18 removed all Gortash dialogue changes but that's not quite the case. Here is a rundown of what's missing.
Now, it really is possible that it is really just extremely low priority for Larian. I just think that this, paired with other things, is suspicious.
2. New Evil Endings - we know Larian is working on new Evil endings but we have no details on what those are. However, the fact that only Gortash’s alliance dialogue has changed (edit: there's a small change in his Boss Fight scene too but its tied to the same file. See link above for a full rundown) and gone unfixed is what makes me think maybe there’s more in the works. Like I’ve said before, the dialogue file that this addition is in is the entire file for that office scene. If they wanted to beef up a Gortash alliance as an Evil Ending, they’d most likely have to edit that file again anyway. So why work on something twice when you can just roll it out all at once?
3. Getting Gortash to the end of the game is not as complicated or involved as people think - Gortash dies once the endgame has already been set in motion. You wouldn’t have to actually add that much. All you’d have to do is have the Emperor suck him into the prism too and have them duke it out, or have the Emperor leave him and come up with some narrative explanation for how he got away from the Netherbrain. Then he’d probably have to have a few lines in your little Endgame Pit Stop to speak to your allies - and that’s pretty much it. The rest, if they really had to go bare bones, can be added via mentions of him in the Epilogue. There’s already files that make some mention of calling on the Steel Watch in the final fight.
4. The Extra Delulu point- Larian has always been responsive to fans. They need to set boundaries, and clearly aren’t going to be adding a lot, but I don’t think the fact that Durgetash has risen to one of the top spots on AO3 counts for nothing. That’s something that is clearly measurable data of fan interest. At the very least, I’m certain it’s made them aware of it, we just don’t know if they’ve made the decision to act on it.
Why I think it might not be happening
1. Larian will only be adding limited content from this point forward - my hopes for any Gortash ending were immediately dashed when I first heard this news, but then revived with skepticism when they mentioned the evil endings. We don’t even know if a definitive edition is still on the table, which is where I initially thought they might add Gortash content. It’s very possible that because of this decision, no new Gortash content will be added. They may have also originally intend to add content, but ultimately chose to reprioritize with this new direction.
2. The Absolute Legend that is Jason Isaacs- It’s always been said that having such an incredible voice actor is a catch-22, because it makes calling them back in to record anything new that much harder due to both budget and scheduling constraints. Now, as I said above, not THAT much would need to be recorded, but even if it is only a little this is a very clear reason why it might have to be a no-go.
3. Gortash’s other content - it’s clear that Gortash was a victim of the cut content stick. We find out way too much about him from only letters and mentions that feel really out of nowhere, but ultimately accomplish the job. I could also understand the writers feeling like if they had to pair down his story to what it is, adding it without any additional backup would feel weird.
TLDR; it’s a total toss-up.
The only people that actually know shit are Larian themselves, and no amount of speculation can actually be definitive. Assume the worst, dream of the best, and hope that it lands somewhere in the middle.
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petricorah · 3 days
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scenes i loved from Real Enough to Get Me Through by @marriedzukka <333 [ids in alt]
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blinkpen · 4 months
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another huge problem with viv's writing is she was so damn impatient to just get to the part where the status quo gets shaken up and revel in it she decided to just fucking teleport there and failed to spend any time at all establishing a status quo TO be shaken up and so literally nothing in the show feels earned and everything feels rushed and confusing constantly as the tracks get laid in front of the train as its rolling
this is something i call "narrative speedrunning" and it is something you literally can never go back and fix, and that's a big part of why heckuva badshow is kind of unsalvageable and was doomed to be from the very beginning, which, like,
[mr krabbs voice]
i warned ye!
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northern-passage · 6 months
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this was one of the first snippets i posted back on patreon in 2021, with Lea and Merry. i've edited it a bit (a lot) before reposting it since it was a few years old, and it was fun to see how much more confident i am now with writing intimate scenes than i was back then.
i imagine this would take place sometime while the gang is in Highfell, maybe the first few nights or right before they're setting out to leave again. enjoy~
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Lea glances back as Merry quietly steps out onto the balcony, a sudden wave of heat washing over them from inside before the door closes and the cold night air chases it back out. They shiver a bit, eyeing the bottle in Merry's hand as she walks over to where they sit balanced on the railing, their back towards the inn, their feet dangling over the long drop down to the beach below. They take a deep inhale from their pipe, tasting it for a long moment before exhaling slowly.
Merry leans against the railing beside them, her arms crossed over the cold, damp wood, clutching the bottle still in her hand, tapping it lightly with her nails.
"You going to stay out here all night?" Merry asks, peering up at Lea, who just shrugs. "You're wasting that expensive bed in there," Merry scoffs, turning out towards the water and taking a quick drink before setting the bottle aside precariously atop the railing.
"I can't sleep," Lea says simply, staring out at the dark water, fidgeting with their pipe in their hand.
"There are plenty of other things you can do in a bed like that than just sleep," Merry smirks.
Lea huffs, rolling their eyes as they raise their pipe to their lips again.
The waves roll gently out across the beach, the black water shimmering as the full moon reflects its light across the choppy surface, with a soft green glow on the distant horizon from the northern lights. Merry and Lea sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, and Lea finds themself glancing sideways, staring at the woman beside them, the soft light of the inn filtering through the balcony windows and igniting her auburn hair in a dreamy glow, clashing with the dark shadows and white, pale light coming off the water.
"What?" Merry says, giving Lea a coy look out of the corner of her eye.
Lea scowls, shaking their head and turning away, lifting their pipe only for Merry to pluck it from their hand, tilting her head and leaning in close as she takes a deep breath, holding the pipe between her lips. Lea doesn't move away, even as Merry exhales, the smoke curling in the small space between them.
"Smoking is bad for you, you know," she says.
"So is drinking," Lea shoots back, and Merry just smiles, holding the pipe in her mouth, her lips curling around the mouthpiece as her teeth flash white in the dark.
Merry slides closer along the railing, her eye roaming over Lea's face, flicking to their lips, and she can’t suppress the thrill she feels when Lea doesn't move away, a sudden nervous energy pulsing in the air. Slowly, Lea reaches out, gently taking the pipe from Merry's mouth, and she lets them, holding their dark eyes in her gaze as they do it, her lips parting just enough for the mouthpiece to slide free. Lea is the one that looks away first, a slight blush creeping over their face, glancing down and fumbling with the pipe in their lap.
Merry is feeling bold, either from the alcohol or the tobacco or both, and she closes the remaining space between them, her hand gently brushing over Lea's thigh - but they go rigid at the contact, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her hand away.
Merry quickly steps back, recoiling, and Lea releases her, their eyes widening.
"What are you doing?" Lea asks, their words coming out too fast, clumsily swinging their legs back over the railing and dropping down onto the balcony. They clutch their pipe to their chest, blinking slowly at the captain, their eyes still wide and wary.
"Sorry, I clearly misread the… situation," Merry says, raising her hands, giving Lea an apologetic look. "I thought you were interested."
Lea hesitates, glancing out at the water, before forcing themself to look back at Merry.
"I - I am," they say quickly, grimacing before dropping their hands and setting their pipe down beside Merry's bottle on the railing. They struggle for a moment, scowling at the pipe and wringing their hands, anxiously twisting a thumb ring that Merry has never noticed before.
"I'm sorry. I just… are you sure?" they finally say, and they can't look at her, their face burning, wishing the floor would just swallow them up. Lea just finds it hard to believe that a woman like the captain would be interested in them - after everything. Of course, there's been flirting and teasing between them, but Merry seems to be like that with just about everyone. And even Lea wasn't sure sometimes if they really meant it - but right now, just the two of them, it feels more real. More tangible.
"I'm sure, Lea."
Merry tilts her head at them, studying their face for a moment. Lea is handsome, and their features look even more severe than usual in the unforgiving moonlight, their eyes flashing as they return her stare. Lea takes a step forward then, but stops short, opening their hands, palms-up - waiting for her.
Merry approaches them as if they were a skittish animal - she doesn't want to spook them again. But Lea gives her a little nod, and soon enough they're so close that she can smell nothing but that tobacco on their breath.
Merry takes their hands, guides them to her waist.
"I'm sure," she says again. "I like you, Lea Chen," she whispers, and Lea bows their head, their jaw set. Merry raises a hand and gently presses her palm to Lea's cheek, and they let out a long sigh, melting into the touch, closing their eyes for a moment before turning their head - just enough to brush their lips against Merry's inner wrist, feel her warmth and taste her pulse.
The gesture seems to ignite them both simultaneously, Merry's other hand tangling in their thick hair, cradling the back of their neck and urging them forward while Lea roughly grabs at her hips pulls her close. Their bodies lock together as their lips meet, teeth clicking against each other and lips splitting painfully in their haste.
It's a messy first kiss, both of them hungry for it, enthusiastic, clumsy, and a little bloody - metallic with the sweet spice of tobacco and alcohol making Lea's head spin as they taste Merry's tongue in their mouth. Merry rolls her hips against their thigh, pulling at their hair and sucking on their bottom lip, ignoring the ache in her teeth as they kiss and kiss and kiss.
Eventually they have to break apart, both of them breathing hard, Merry still gripping a handful of Lea's hair, their bun hanging loose with long strands falling across their face and tickling Merry's lips as they pant together over the sound of the waves.
"The bed," Lea says, breathless, and Merry nods, pulling them back towards the door, and they reach around her for the doorknob, throwing it open hard enough that it slams into the wall and makes both of them wince. But Merry just laughs.
"Sorry," Lea says sheepishly, ducking their head as they gently push it close. It's scorching in the room, from the woodstove, or just from the two of them together, hot and heavy hands roaming and groping as the two kiss again, slowly backpedaling towards the bed.
Merry shrugs out of her jacket, letting it drop to the floor before reaching for Lea's belt buckle. She pulls at their shirt, untucking it from their trousers, and Lea watches as Merry pulls their belt free in one quick motion, tossing it over her shoulder with a smirk. Her hands are surprisingly cold now, slipping beneath their shirt, Lea grunting from the touch as she trails her fingers across their stomach.
"Okay?" Merry prompts, looking up to search Lea's face, and they nod quickly, leaning forward to pepper kisses along Merry's jaw, down her neck, all while her hands explore beneath their shirt, tracing the plane of muscle over their ribs before slowly drawing her nails down their back.
Merry tilts her head back, Lea's lips brushing against her pulse, sucking gently, teeth grazing over her flushed skin, their hands reaching around to slide down the curve of her ass, squeezing roughly until she gasps. Merry pushes their shirt up then, fumbling a bit as she tries to unbutton Lea's trousers, and they laugh, the sound reverberating through Merry's chest before they relent, pulling back so Merry can actually see what she's doing. The buttons are no match for her now, and she gives Lea a coy look through her lashes.
"Take off your shirt," Merry says, her fingers curling around the front of Lea's trousers, partly pulling them open, admiring the glimpse of their lower stomach as they raise their arms to tug at their shirt. They jerk it off over their head, tossing it aside with their belt, and Merry drinks in the sight of them, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth as she looks over their exposed torso, their chest and their scars, and all the beauty marks adorning their skin. She releases their trousers to run her hands over their chest, their shoulders, squeezing the swell of muscle in their arms before pulling them back in for more kisses, open-mouthed and still hungry. Lea makes a sound in the back of their throat that sends a spike of want lancing hot up Merry's spine, and she grinds herself against them, her hands tightening around their arms hard enough to bruise. She breaks their kiss then to desperately press her lips to the hollow of their throat, breathing them in and dragging her tongue across their collarbone before blowing cool air over their pulse and making them shiver.
Lea pushes Merry farther into the room, tangled together and nearly tripping over each other until the back of Merry's knees hit the bed.
She drops down, pulling Lea down with her, though they catch themself, a hand on either side of her, palms pressed to the bedspread. They lower themself slowly, sliding their thigh between her legs and flexing it a few times and dragging it up along the length of her until she’s squirming, her fingernails leaving little half-crescents indented in their shoulders.
Lea pushes her shirt up, exposing her stomach, caressing her with a gentle hand before sliding low to kiss her just above her navel. They follow the scattered trail of freckles, their tongue snaking out and leaving its own glistening trail as they slowly make their way down to the waistband of her trousers. Their hands follow close behind, teasing her breasts before sliding down her stomach to her thighs, pushing them apart and opening her legs wide as they take their place on their knees. They pause for a moment, kicking their own shoes off before pulling at Merry's, followed by her trousers, with Merry laughing and wiggling on the bed all the while.
The laughing stops, though, when Lea presses their mouth against her, her breath catching in her throat as they kiss slowly at her inner thighs, sucking on the soft skin and carefully testing her with their teeth. Merry reaches down, fingers twisting through Lea's hair, her body arching back against the bed as Lea drags their tongue over her cock, hot and wet and attentive.
But they stop, pulling back to kiss her some more, on her stomach, her hips, biting at her thighs, all while her hand tightens around their hair until she can't take it anymore. Her thighs clench around Lea's head, breathless and giddy, her long hair starting to stick to the sudden sweat along the back of her neck.
"Lea," she whines, and then she inhales sharply as they finally wrap a hand around her base and press a wet kiss to the tip of her cock, staring up at her as they do, their other hand gripping one of her thighs. They open their mouth, taking a little at a time, bobbing their head as Merry gasps and pulls at their hair. Lea eventually grabs her hips, pressing her back into the bed when she starts to buck reflexively, their movements slow and agonizing as they keep stopping and starting again, kissing her stomach and thighs, reaching up and teasing her nipples through her shirt.
When they wrap their lips around her again, they let her hit the back of their throat, Merry loudly moaning their name, both hands tangled desperately in their hair now as they move up and down a few times and then slowly draw back, their tongue flexing deliciously against her before they let her fall from their mouth with a gasp. Strands of spit and fluid drip from their open mouth, and Merry tugs impatiently at their hair, sitting up then to meet them with a kiss.
Lea holds her face in their hands, their thumb stroking her cheekbone, tentatively touching the fabric of her bandana, still wrapped around her head and hiding her eye from them.
Merry pulls back, Lea's hands still cradling her face, and she reaches up, touching their wrist before taking their hand in her own, guiding their fingers to slide beneath the cloth, giving them a nod when they hesitate, their brow furrowed with concern.
"Take it off," Merry says, though her voice is soft, not a command like earlier - but a request. She nods at Lea again, sliding her hand down their arm and giving it a squeeze. The first time with someone, Merry usually keeps the bandana on - she's protective of it. It's not like it's some big secret - anyone can see the scars beneath the bandana, the way she hides behind it. Maybe they can even tell that she's hiding more than just her damaged eye. But she wants Lea to see. She doesn't know why, but she wants them to see her tonight.
Lea carefully lifts the bandana off, untangling some of Merry's hair twisted through it, setting it atop the blankets. Merry casts her gaze sideways, avoiding Lea as they take in her fully exposed face, her drooping eyelid and her milky white eye. They don't say anything, instead just reaching up again and tracing the scars there, the ghost of a touch along her cheek.
Merry closes her eyes, bowing her head for a moment. When she opens them again, she can't quite meet Lea's stare, so she looks down at their chest, at their own scars, and she mirrors their touch, her thumb caressing the raised skin that runs horizontal just beneath the muscle. Lea takes her in their arms then, pulling her close, humming softly as she touches them there.
"Merry," they breathe, their lips against her neck, and for a moment she just lets them hold her, kissing her throat and cradling her face while she strokes their chest.
Eventually, she slowly pulls back, slipping out of their arms and pressing her hands to their chest, pushing them back onto the mattress, her long hair falling over her shoulders and tickling their face. Sitting between their legs, she touches them with her hands first, caressing their face, the curve of their neck, then feeling the strong muscle of their shoulders, down to the swell of their chest and those long scars. The muscle over their ribs, the soft skin of their stomach, their hips, squeezing their thighs. She stands from the bed and takes off their trousers, dropping back down and starting again, her hands first, slow and deliberate, and then she follows with her mouth, kissing their jaw, the hollow of their throat, trailing along their collarbone before sucking on their chest, massaging and kissing along their scars, drawing a low moan from them before taking one of their nipples in her mouth and teasing them with her teeth. She sucks gently while Lea strokes her hair, pushing it back out of her face, gathering it in one hand and pulling it over her shoulder while their breath quickens with pleasure.
Merry kisses their scars a few more times before sitting back up, licking her lips and running her hands down their stomach and over their thighs again. She slowly draws her hand between their legs, and Lea's hips twitch, longing for her touch, pressing themself against her while they watch her through half-lidded eyes. She pulls back, getting an indignant huff from Lea, licking her fingers before she reaches down to touch them again. She drags her thumb over their growth, moving her hand in a slow circle, Lea's head rolling back against the pillows as she does.
"Fuck," they grunt, gritting their teeth and grabbing at the blankets. Merry stares down at them, pressing a palm to their lower stomach as she strokes their opening, playing with their growth until she's satisfied by their panting and moaning. Lea tries to stay quiet - it embarrasses them, it makes them feel too vulnerable, even more than someone touching them like this - but she doesn't let them. Lea bites their lip, swallowing loudly, sweating and twisting in the sheets until they can't resist it anymore. Her hand works faster and harder, until they finally moan her name, and then she slips a few fingers inside.
Merry pays attention to the spots that make them moan even louder, their body trembling from her touch, her fingers curling slowly inside with delightfully obscene sounds as she thrusts her hand faster and faster, hot and wet. By the time Merry moves her hand away and eases herself inside of them, they're both begging for it, Lea's legs shaking as they lift their hips to accommodate her.
They finish quickly together like that. Skin on skin, grunting together as Lea hooks their legs around her and touches her stomach, lifting her shirt up to grab at her breasts, holding her tight until she has to pull out to come on their stomach. It takes her a moment to recover, Lea pushing her hair back out of her face again, and then she returns her attention to them, working her hand against their growth just like before until they finally come undone completely beneath her. She strokes them gently a few more times before she untangles herself from their legs, standing from the bed and fetching a towel from the washbasin in the corner. She cleans them up, and then collapses on top of them, both of them hot and sweaty and clinging to each other. Lea takes a deep breath, wrapping their arms around her and holding her tightly against their chest.
"Hmm," Merry presses her lips to their flushed skin, giving them a few lazy kisses before tucking her head beneath their chin. "I told you I liked you, Lea Chen."
Lea smiles softly, reaching up to pet her hair, kissing the top of her head and feeling a sudden rush of affection that nearly makes their breath catch in their throat. They gently comb their fingers through her hair, neither of them quite knowing what else to say - until Merry is eventually lulled to sleep by Lea's gentle hands.
They take the chance to study the scars on her face, the slow rise and fall of her breathing, the way her body curls around them with her hands grasping at the blankets, grasping for them, even in her sleep. They notice a few grey hairs this close, and then they start to count her freckles when sleep alludes them.
Eventually they relax, leaning back into the pillows and staring up at the ceiling. They keep brushing their fingers through Merry's hair as they wonder how long it will be until they regret this. Only a few more days left here - only a few more days with her. It will be a clean break, at least.
They glance down at her again, clenching their jaw before turning their head to stare out the windows to the balcony, watching the distant northern lights dance across the water. At least right now, in this moment, they have this. Merry's steady heartbeat pressed against their own, the calming sound of the ocean outside, the heat of the woodstove making their eyes grow heavy - they feel warm and content as they finally pass into sleep, even when Merry slips out of their arms, and out the door.
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