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selenezq · 6 days

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🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞MDNI🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞

CW: dub con, loss of control, sex pollen trope

Pairing Alastor x Reader

Reader is AFAB

Edited by the lovely @the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes

But That's A Freaky Sex Flower

It is a beautiful day in Hell, about as pretty as it gets, really. You take in all the sights and smells as you walk along the sidewalk. You are heading to the store, on an errand for the hotel, when the most lovely flower catches your eye. Coming to a standstill, you bend down to get a closer look.

Pink petals with a beautiful, intricate, black design surrounded a lovely red center. You bring your nose down to get a whiff, inhaling its saccharine scent. Gently plucking it, you tuck it into your hair to wear as a beautiful accessory.

You’ve never seen anything like it before. Excited by your new discovery, you find some extra pep in your step as you walk the short distance to and inside the store. You pass the aisles filled with various foods, houseware goods, and personal items, reading the signs above each one until you see the one you need. You turn left to walk down the aisle, looking around until you see what you had come for: some pens and paper.

Reaching your hands out you gingerly grab them. As you leave the area and make your way through the store to checkout, you suddenly begin to feel warm. Placing your items on the counter, you give a kind smile to the store clerk. "It's a scorcher out there today, isn't it?" You ask congenially.

"Nah, it's not that hot," the cashier responds curtly followed by rather rude eye roll as they ring your items up, then tell you with a monotone voice, "Your total will be $7.93.”

Quickly pulling the money out, you pay for the items. With a smile and a wave despite their rudeness, you head out of the store and are on your way back to the hotel. Walking back, you feel like it's getting hotter out by the second. In an attempt to cool off, you undo the top button of your blouse. As you continue walking home, a drop of sweat trickles its way down your neck.

After what seems to take an eternity, your journey back to the hotel comes to a close. You feel a sense of profound relief at finally being able to get inside out of the heat of the Hellish sun. Opening the door, you step into the hotel, dropping the shopping bag on the nearest surface before throwing yourself onto the couch in the lobby.

"Heya Toots, how’ya doin’?" Angel Dust asks you as you attempt to regulate your breathing. Has it always been this scorching in the hotel? You wonder to yourself.

"I'd be better if the weather cooled off a little." You mutter, a little irritated, the poor attitude unusual for you. You bring your hand up to wipe at the sweat now threatening to drip down your chest. "I did find this pretty flower though." You say, a smile returning to your face as you turn your head to show Angel the beautiful bloom that is adorning your hair.

"Oh toots, that's not a regular flower, it's a freaky sex flower. It's used as an ingredient in the love potion Val makes," Angel says somberly, leaning forward to get a better look. "How long ‘ave ya had it on ya?" He asks with genuine concern. "It can be pretty potent when undiluted." He finishes with a worried frown.

"Probably a little over an hour," you say, beginning to freak out. "How long does it take before it starts to affect someone?" You ask, your tone rising with your temperature.

"Well, love potions usually act pretty quick; I'd guess such a concentrated dose of the aphrodisiac, directly from the pollen’s faster ya know?" Angel theorizes aloud.

"Fuck,” you mumble as you pulled the flower from your hair quickly before tossing it into the trash, as if to pretend it never happened. "Is there an antidote I could possibly take?" You enquire, your tone laced with apprehension.

"Nope, ya gotta fuck someone to get it out of ya system," Angel replied, trying his best not to laugh. "Ya know, I've actually got someone I could ca-"

"NO." You blurt out instantly to shut his idea down. "I mean," you clear your throat uncomfortably, then finish hurriedly, "that's not necessary, but thank you for offering."

"Okay but, you're in for more than mild discomfort if ya don't find someone to help ya." Angel warns you, still trying to get you to see the situation clearly.

"I can handle myself; just please don't tell anyone." You ask the spider demon, deciding to keep this development a secret. You fail to notice the shadow in the corner that had been listening the entire time. You stand up, a wave of arousal shooting straight to your core making you feel almost dizzy.

Composing yourself as much as you can, you bid farewell to Angel Dust and head towards the staircase. As your footsteps lead you closer to the next floor, you grip the railing for support as a particularly painful bolt of arousal sweeps through you, causing an intense ache in between your thighs. When the pain level rises from mild discomfort to something more, you begin to move as quickly as you can down the hallway to your room.

Reaching your room at long last, you hastily grab the doorknob only for your sweaty, clammy hands to slide right off if it. Struggling with the knob for what feels like an eternity, you finally manage to get it open and gain access to your room. Slamming it shut behind you with a bang, you throw yourself onto your bed as another sharp ache wracks your body.

Deciding to take matters into your own hands, you open the drawer to your nightstand, reaching around until you feel the cool silicon material of your most trusted toy. With a sound of triumph, you pull the vibrator out and set it onto the bed. Turning it on with a click, you pull your panties to the side and bring the pulsating object to rest on your throbbing clit as a loud moan of relief rips itself from your mouth.

Your pussy already soaked from the effects of the pollen, the toy slides right into you with ease and you cry out in relief. You can't remember a time this ever felt so good. The toy vibrates right where you need it and the feeling of an orgasm creeps up quickly. Your back arches off the bed as you finish loudly. The toy continues buzzing as you lay there in the aftershock of it.

Pressing the button to turn the device off, a contented sigh leaves your lips as you remove the vibrator from your cunt with a wet noise. The relief your orgasm brought is short-lived, however. because the painful aching feeling quickly returns. Your walls clench and spasm needily around nothing but air. A feeling of desperation quickly rises inside you.

Just as the tears of frustration are about to fall from your wide, blown-out eyes, you hear a knock at the door. Hastily, you shove the sex toy away in its drawer and you pull your panties and skirt back into their proper place. Lurching towards the door as hastily as you can, you try your best to avoid falling amid the dizzy feeling that overtakes you.

Another knock sounds, followed by Alastor's voice calling out, "Everything alright, my dear?" Just the very sound of his voice has your cunt gushing, the aching sensation heightening to a new degree.

Trying to appear as composed as you can, you open the door and greet him, "Hey Alastor, I'm feeling just fine."

"Are you quite sure about that? You look rather flushed," He says, his gaze on your red, damp, complexion. Alastor places his hand on your face and your pulse quickens, you feel as if your blood is boiling you alive. You’d do anything to have his hands lower, where you ache the most.

Letting out an audible gasp, you cut it off before it fades into a moan, the sensation of his skin on yours sending a pleasurable tingling down to your very core.

"I just don't think that's true." Alastor states, pushing his way past you into your room. You stumble, and he reaches a hand out to steady you, gripping your arm firmly.

When Alastor touches you this time, an embarrassing, obscene, moan leaves your lips. The warmness of his skin makes the point of contact feel as if it is on fire. You wonder briefly, Would he touch me there, if I asked him to?

"Whatever is the matter, darling? Could it be that you need something? You'll have to use your words if there’s something you desire." He finishes, smirking down at you.

"I want you to touch me, please." You whine needily as you look up at him. Your eyes shine with desperation.

"Ah, I'm afraid you'll have to be a bit more specific, dear, as I am already touching you." He says, voice full of his usual snark. His signature smile widens, gaze falling to where his hand is still on your forearm, steadying you. You look away bashfully before his other clawed hand comes up to cradle your chin, tilting it up so your gaze meets his crimson one.

"Alastor, please, be kind to me just this once." You plead, voice soft.

"I'm being plenty kind, checking up on you, asking how you're faring, and what you might need." Alastor says, his tone warning. "Now tell me what you need, in better detail." His commanding tone leaves no room for disobedience.

Giving him one last pleading look, you let out a breathy sigh before letting the words fall from your lips, "I need you to touch my cunt, please, Alastor."

"There; that wasn't so hard now was it, my dear?" He says with a winning smile. Alastor pushes you back up against the door, caging you in with his much larger body. He lets his hand trail agonizingly slowly down the curve of your breasts, before playing with the hemline of your skirt. "I could do anything to you right now and you would thank me for it wouldn't you, darling?" Alastor remarks, his grin widening almost sinisterly.

"Yes, please, please help me relieve this burning and aching. I can't take much more." You almost sob out.

"Well, now, we shan’t keep a lady waiting then. I do have manners after all." He declares before hooking his hand in the waistband of your skirt. With a firm yank, he has the garment falling down to your feet. Alastor quickly rips your panties to shreds with a flick of his sharp claws. His fingers find your throbbing clit and begin tracing circles.

"Ah, ah, yes please." You moan in relief, his fingers already providing so much more comfort than your own did. It feels so divine. Bringing his other hand down, he slips one finger into your soaking cavern. Alastor starts pumping it in and out of you as you lean against the door for support. Adding a second digit, and then a third, your lips form an ‘o’ of pleasure. The nosies his fingers make as they push in and out of you are almost pornographic.

It feels pleasurable, but you find yourself craving more, the throbbing you feel in your cunt needing something much bigger. "Please sir, I need more. I want your cock." You beg prettily.

"I'm inclined to reward you for asking so politely." Alastor remarks. Pulling his hand out of you, he brings your juices to his mouth, licking his fingers clean. The movement almost distracts you from the empty feeling between your legs. Before the aching sensation has a chance to return he's spinning you around, face pressed against the wall, bent at the waist. The motion forces your cunt up so he has a better view of it.

Licking his lips hungrily, Alastor takes one hand off your lovely form to undo his trousers. You hear the sound of the zipper moving down before his massive cock springs free. Without warning, he is shoving all of those so many inches inside of you, burying himself to the hilt. He lets out a shuddering groan feeling your tight warmth around him.

You wail as you feel the tip of him press into your cervix. This is the feeling of fullness you’ve been dying for.

"That's it, isn't it, my doe. You just needed to be filled by my cock, didn't you?" He coos softly into your ear, each word punctuated by a hard thrust. His hips snap into yours, each upward movement sending the most delicious sparks through your body.

"Yes Alastor; I needed you," You moan out as his movements become faster and harder. The sound of slapping skin fills the room as his slams his hard member into your dripping cunt. His hand finds its way to your clit again, moving in time with his quickened thrusts. The feeling of your orgasm barreling towards you reaches its peak and you cum on his cock with a shout. Alastor feels your soft pussy walls clenching tighyly around him and he continues to fuck you through your climax, chasing his own release.

With a growl, he finishes inside of you, his cock throbbing as he paints your walls with his cum in powerful spurts. He tightens his claws around your waist, leaving marks on your skin where his sharp tips press into you. Bringing the hand from your oversensitive clit up and away, Alastor strokes your hair gently while you are lost in the haze of fucked-out bliss.

"Tell me; did you really think you could satisfy yourself, my dear? You should have come right to me. Hopefully you are feeling more like yourself now." He hums, pulling out of you gently. Taking you into his arms with ease, he carries you to your bed before tucking you in tenderly. "Rest now darling; your body needs it." He tells you, planting a gentle kiss on your temple. You slip easily into slumber, lulled by the effects of your post-orgasm elation.

#alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #alastor x you #alastor x reader #alastor smut #alastor x you smut #alastor x reader smut #sex pollen #hazbin hotel alastor

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badaslovie · 7 months

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jealous kisses

pairing: bada x reader

summary: bada and tatter were seen holding hands at a concert and you can't help but feel jealous.

warnings: 🤏🏼 suggestive

wc: ~ 1.5k

a/n: sooo i've never written before and honestly it's not the best, please spare me. also absolutely no hate to tatter i love her 🫶🏼

your head found a place in Bada’s lap as you both lounge around on lusher’s couch; her fingers tracing their way up from your cheeks to play with strands of your hair. you lean into her touch, reveling in her affection. it’s rare these days –with all the filming– for you both to have a moment to breathe and just enjoy the day. bada took this opportunity to have a movie night with you and the rest of team bebe, as a sort of team bonding moment, and lusher was nice enough to offer her apartment as the meeting place.

“what time did you tell them to come?” you look up from your phone to face lusher, who’s sitting on the couch diagonal to you.

“minah texted in the group chat that they were heading up so they should be-” your attention turns to the door at the ring of the bell. “-here.”

you sit up straight –cuddling into bada’s side as she wraps an arm over your shoulder– to make room for the others as lusher makes her way to open the door for the rest. they each pile in taking off their shoes and coats, greeting you three with hi’s and hugs.

“i brought snacks! everyone’s favorites!” cheche waves around the snack-filled bags in her hand.

everyone settles into their respective spots on the couches and excitedly dig into their snacks while searching on their phones for movies that the team could agree on.

“oh my god unnie did you see the picture the fans took of us? at the concert last night.” tatter hands bada her phone, you peek over to see a picture of bada guiding tatter to their seats by her hand. you knew bada and tatter were just good friends, but that didn’t stop your stomach from churning.

“this is so funny people are theorizing that we could be in a relationship, but little do they know…” tatter giggles, hinting at the lack of awareness the public had of your relationship with bada. you two are private about your relationship, to keep your peace away from prying eyes and also because you are on competing crews for swf2. you’re starting to regret that decision.

the others also giggle at the predicament, each saying a variation of how the public would be surprised to know the truth, unaware of your tense body sitting quietly next to bada.

“hey, are you alright love? you seem tense.” bada asks, giving your shoulders a light squeeze.

“uh yeah. i’m just gonna use the bathroom really quick.” you pat her leg and stand up. your head was spinning with so many thoughts that you didn't notice the others quieting down as they watched you beeline down the hall.

you lock the door to the bathroom and turn to face the mirror above the sink. your reflection looked like a blur; your mind racing with the event that just occurred, to all the comments swf2 contestants would make and all the times they were being touchy with bada. but bada would always set boundaries, some distance when anyone would get closer than what she knows you’re comfortable with. and usually you didn’t mind her holding hands as a platonic gesture, you did with your crew and friends too, but the comments just ate at your insecurities. your relationship might not be public, but you weren’t sparing with your affections, so why weren’t comments made about you two?

you turn on the faucet and attempt to wash away the lingering worries. you unlock the door to head out after drying your face, only to be stopped in your tracks by the sight of bada with her arms crossed, leaning against the wall. her brows were furrowed and her gaze was on the floor before she realized that you had opened the door. her eyes full of concern soften as they meet yours.

“you got up so abruptly and looked pale. are you sure you’re okay?” she steps forward to examine you closer, her eyes searching your face for any sign of illness.

you nod your head. “yeah i’m fine, i just needed a moment.”

“if this is about the picture, you know tatter and i are just friends right? you’re the one i want, no one else.” she reaches up to tuck a loose hair behind your ear and slides her hand down to rest by the base of your neck.

“i know… i just needed a moment to pull myself together.” you sheepishly look away, avoiding her eyes.

"hmm i see..." she hums, stepping forward again and backing you into the wall as she places an arm above your head.

“is someone jealous?” she brings her head down trying to meet your eyes and you catch a glimpse of her knowing grin.

“you’re so cute when you’re jealous,” she coos, nudging your chin up with her finger to get you to meet her eyes. “you get all pouty and embarrassed.” her eyes trail down to your lips and like a pair of magnets, her lips slowly find their way to yours. her slow gentle kiss, the warmth of her touch, lulls you for just a moment.

when she pulls away, your eyes make contact for a moment before you avert back it to the wall.

“why are you still avoiding my eyes?”

“i can’t look at you right now.” you mumble.

she lets out a chuckle. “and why is that?”

“because…”

“because…?” she raises her brows expectantly.

“because! If I look at your pretty face right now, it’s just gonna remind me how every other girl thinks you’re pretty too and i can't stand it!” you huff out.

she bursts out laughing, throwing her head back.

“it’s not funny.” you whine, shoving her shoulder.

“maybe just a little.” she says, which makes you pout more –drawing her eyes back down to your lips. she brings a hand up to cup your jaw, pulling your face close enough that you feel her breath on your lips.

“i might hug other people, might even hold their hand… but my lips belong on yours.” her eyes still intensely staring at your lips, her tongue instinctively pokes out to wet her lips as she grazes your bottom lip with her thumb, pushing down on it a little.

“i only kiss you” she pulls you in to connect your lips, a little harder than the last. the kiss grew a little rougher, sloppier before she pulls back. “like this.” bada leans her forehead against yours, trying to catch her breath. you could see a string of your mixed saliva connecting your lips. from the way bada smirks, you can tell she noticed too.

“i only touch you like this.” her hands slide down your body slowly, making sure to take her time. she grazes over your clothed chest, down to pull you at your waist making you arch your body into hers, chests flushing together.

she looks down at where your bodies touched, biting back a smile, before reconnecting your lips. you can tell she was getting needy by how eager her kisses were. her tongue brushes over your bottom lip asking for access, which you give, letting her tongue explore yours. you wrap your arms around her neck, wanting her closer, needing to feel more of her. you feel her fingers dip under the seam of your shirt, grazing lightly over your skin. as though a light graze was not enough for her, she brings her warm hands up your shirt to feel more of you. she stops just above your rib cage, thumbs almost dipping underneath your bra.

“fuck baby, i love how you feel.” she pants out. her touch and words spread warmth throughout your body and your hands instinctively find their way to the back of her neck, giving the hairs a slight tug. she moans into your lips. the sounds of sloppy kisses and her quiet moans echoing through the halls send heat between your legs. as if she can sense it, bada pushes a leg in between yours barely grazing where you need her most. you tug at her hair a little harder for being a tease.

“ah, impatient are we?” she groans, loving the slight pain that shoots down her neck.

“YOU TWO BETTER NOT BE MAKING BABIES IN MY BATHROOM!” the sound of lusher’s voice booming from the living room breaks you two apart.

“THAT’S NOT EVEN BIOLOGICALLY POSSIBLE.” bada yells back, rolling her eyes.

“we’ll continue this later.” she smiles, giving you a quick peck.

bonus:

“so did y’all pick a movie?” bada asks nonchalantly as you both sit back down on the couch.

“yeah, but uh… unnie you smudged your lipstick a little.” kyma pointed at the side of her lips.

bada eyes widen as her hand quickly shoots up to wipe at her lips. the other girls laughed at bada incriminating herself.

“idiot you didn’t wear any lipstick today.” you swatted her hand.

#bada lee #bada lee x reader #swf2 #bebe #wlw

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emmitaaa4 · 3 months

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“Elriel is too predictable! It’s boring & lazy writing!”

… 🧍‍♂️

My brother in Christ. You call SJM the fated mates author. Through 15+ books and 3 series she hasn’t diverged from that trope. Elain has a “mate”.

If an Elriel outcome is predictable, it’s because the author willed it so and therefore ✨wrote scenes✨ to ✨develop their relationship✨.

and by that i mean…

(long post ahead…. bear with me)

SJM wrote Mr. “I don’t need to resort to poetry” going all Azriel Allan Poe, flustered as he tells Elain “we are born hearing the song of the wind”. She wrote him uncharacteristically open & talkative, while when he 1st met Feyre he deferred all her questions to others.

SJM wrote that despite how different they may look, Elain does not balk from Az. She never has: from their 1st meeting she finds comfort in him, and he in turn notices her—she’s never been afraid of him, he has always seen her.

SJM wrote the 1st coherent thing to come out of Elain’s mouth in WaR to be “beautiful” as she beholds Azriel’s scarred hands. In turn, she wrote our gardener not minding imperfections on hers, for despite her lady-like conditioning, she prefers to get her hands dirty.

SJM wrote Az spending time with her in the sunshine: no forced conversation, no one hEaLinG anyone, just them both doing their own thing as a relaxed Az suns his wings. Just two pals comfortable with one another… which SJM foreshadowed in MaF through Feyre’s “Elain would likely cling to Az for some peace and quiet”.

SJM wrote Az and Cass both stilling at the sight of El & Nes, she wrote Az cutting in to set Elain up in her garden even as Feyre was about to do it, she wrote the mention that Elain was safe after the twin raven’s attack bc Az had stayed with her at the townhouse.

SJM wrote Azriel’s eyes churning as he looks at Elain and her too-thin body, before abruptly winnowing away, and we’re left with Mor looking at the spot where he left. Wonder what that was about (it certainly did not remind me of Rhys in TaR).

You know, Elriels are not just making stuff up and theorizing about the E/ucien bond cause we’re desperately pulling at straws…

SJM had Madja say “a mate would know if something is amiss”, then wrote a scene juxtaposing both Lucien’s and Azriel’s reactions/assessments of what was going on with Elain… and she had Azriel be the one to know nothing was “wrong” with her—no, she just had rare powers and needed to be heard, to be taken seriously. He didn't let her be misunderstood, for he was the ONLY one that listened to her, that took her visions/ramblings seriously right from the get go. And so he gave Elain the understanding she needed to free herself from the dream-like murky realm she was trapped in. Through it all, SJM emphasizes that Azriel also understands what it is like to struggle with rare, strange, prized powers in silence; what it’s like to be othered by them. I’ve said it before and i’ll say it again: she sees everything and he hears everything.

SJM wrote that “Elain had hoped that love would trump even a mating bond” and had her characters question the Cauldron in relation to Elucien *twice* (years apart!).

…

SJM wrote Az being the only one—in a room full of Made beings speaking of being Made—to notice that Elain was missing. A reassuring but empty statement by Cass that they’d get her back….but then it was Azriel that stated, eyes glowing golden, that HE would be getting her back, despite the girl’s own sister discouraging him & telling him he’d die. Hell, Feyre had this whole deliberation on whether she’d join him only after he’d say he’d go. His initiative.

The Hybern scene is too long to add, but this post and this theory break it all down brilliantly.

Yes, Az has sacrificial tendencies. Yes, he’d risk his life for loved ones in general. But we have never seen him this affected, and it is because SJM purposely used language to emphasize Elain and Azriel’s meaningful reactions to the other… despite it being wholly “unnecessary”

It is all intentional… lazy’s antonym.

SJM wrote the Truthteller scene. She emphasized the exchange, which left Cassian gasping and Rhys flabbergasted; it also left Feyre with a significant painting in her mind. It lead to Elain, aka “my God has answered me,” stepping out of a shadow to save her sister. Azriel, aka “God is my help”, indeed helped armed Elain so she could answer her sisters prayers.

SJM ended WaR with Elain’s smile literally lighting up Az’s shadows.

SJM had Elain’s thoughtful gift to him make his eyes the brightest we’ve seen—and by doing so gave us the most beautiful description of his earthy eyes, “the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald.” We have never seen Az so joyful & carefree throughout the entire series.

SJM wrote that Azriel beat Feyre to Elain’s side as she was looking out into the night. She wrote Elain stilling at the sight of a dashing Azriel—her throat bobbing—while Az “just moved towards her”.

SJM wrote the potato scene—“sit i’ll take care of it”—Azriel again being the one to respect Elain’s presence & contribution as he makes a room full of his “superiors” wait until Elain finishes tidying herself up (cause girlie wanted to look put together for a certain shadowsinger). Mor gapes, Amren smirks, Rhys talks of Az’s mom… all because of that surprising, singular behaviour from him.

SJM wrote Az making a joke at Amren’s expense upon noticing Elain’s discomfort; our girl’s shoulders indeed relax in relief. THE LIGHT RETURNS IN HER EYES.

SJM has Azriel staying up past 3am with Elain, listening to her speak of something she is passionate of.

SJM wrote Azriel spending an entire convo with his brothers looking out into the garden from the window (SJM mentioned it 4 times yet some still missed it).

SJM wrote Rhys goading Az for a reaction as he quizzes him on Lucien and Grayson; wrote Rhys realizing that Azriel did not want to know what Elain did with Lucien (in the case she did anything). She wrote Azriel nervously stuttering as he asks risks if they need to get the sisters a present… I wonder why.

And Rosehall… SJM wrote ROSEhall: cracktheory this cracktheory that, to the gwonriels I’d say we both know you wouldn’t say it’s irrelevant had SJM chosen to call his estate Tealhall.

~~~~

Keep in mind: SJM could have written those significant scenes and ultimately kept it PG: she could have chosen language that built up a profound platonic relationship.

Yet… in MaF she has Feyre comment that they would be good together—as in make a good *couple*. WaR roles in and they��re both dealing with the very public rejections they went through—but SJM had them build a quiet companionship in the background, while giving them a wealth of scenes of great significance for both their characters, and while using language like “she DEVOURED the sight of him” “he CRADLED her to his chest”. In FaS they are slowly but surely getting over their last loves, and SJM continues developing their connection.

And in ACOSF, in the book that supposedly “ended” Elriel…

SJM wrote Az following the sound of her laugh (😭). “ It’s just lust” PLEASE BFFR.

SJM chose to remind us—THREE times—of the Hybern rescue scene... then had Az tell Cass that he’d know, in his chest, if something happened to Nesta.

SJM had Az longingly stare at the gift Elain gave him every night for a YEAR—mind plagued by thoughts of her—made him so affected by her that he had reactions to every mention of her name in SF, so affected that it took Nes one look at them to notice his feelings, to reach out in comfort upon noticing the pain that keeping himself apart from to her caused him. As SJM said she would, Nes saw through his secret in ACOSF, still it is “his secret to tell, never hers”. After Solstice we are met with a grumpy Azriel, who lost the snowball fight for the 1st time in centuries (i wonder why…).

SJM chose to link his every secret back to his feelings for Elain, as per the bonus . Why does he stay up so late and wake up so early? He longs for Elain so much he can’t sleep. Why is he staying in the HoW? It is too hard to be close to Elain given their circumstances; he must physically distance himself from her. Why has he moved on from Mor after centuries? Elain. Why is he grumpy post Solstice? The argument with Rhys concerning Elain.

~~~~

Ultimately, SJM wrote for Elriel:

- Complementary imagery (flowers and death? light and dark blending together to form something new… DUSK, anyone?)

- AND plot altering scenes

- AND chose to liken them to one another multiple times

- AND genuine moments of companionship that slowly bloomed into something more…

… Is it so insane to believe that maybe SJM spent so much page time and effort building connections & common ground between them because she intends for elain & az to find peace and quiet within one another?

Or idk, maybe it was all for shits and giggles… and if it was i salute her commitment to the shits and the giggles🫡

Either way, it is the opposite of lazy writing…

It’s SJM’s world & words, and we are just reading them.

P.S: This was all just typed on my cell phone from the top of my head… yes remembering all this is probs concerning, yes I am obsessed. Please correct me if I got anything wrong.

#elain archeron #azriel #elriel #pro elriel #azriel shadowsinger #pro elain #pro azriel #acomaf #acowar #acosf #elain x azriel #elucien-bond #antigwynriel #not even anti; just pro common sense

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dontlikeconflict · 5 months

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Based on S11EP13 Love Hurts (in which a supernatural creature called a Qareen appears to you as the person you desire the most, in an attempt to steal your heart)

TW: internalized homophobia, derogatory terms, John Winchester being a shitty dad

AO3 link

Dean's ready for it, he knows the bastard is around here somewhere and all he has to do is find it and kill it (or at least hold it off until Sam finds its heart, and stabs the damn thing)

He and Sam had been theorizing over who it might appear to them as, joking over childhood crushes and celebrities, but as the creature came into sight Dean's heart sunk. Some part of him knew who it would be, but he thought maybe if he didn't allow the thought to take hold -if he kept the idea in his peripheral vision, not looking directly at it- that it wouldn't be true.

but now the manifestation of his desire was staring directly at him, and it couldn't be ignored.

"Hello Dean"

The gravelly voice sounded the same as it had a hundred times before. The downward tilt to the corner of his eyes was the same, as was the slight skew to his blue tie. It was exactly as he saw Cas, in his mind's eye.

"oh don't try to be cute, I know exactly what you are Qareen"

He didn't want to have to try to kill this thing as it flawlessly imitated Cas, but at his words, the creature allowed its head to softly tilt to the side and his - its - eyes to slightly narrow. An expression that was so painfully Cas, that Dean was torn between pain and anger.

"I understand, Dean" the creature speaks, stepping slightly closer to the large work table that separates them

"is that right?" he responds, trying to focus on anything other than how much this thing looks like Cas, having to remind himself that it was an illusion, despite the tight feeling in his chest that always seemed to respond to the other man's micro-expressions.

The creature continued forward toward him "The longing in your heart? I feel it too"

If only the circumstances had been different, if only this was Cas, the words might have felt like a relief instead of so painfully raw.

"well that's touching" Dean began, as he tried to subtly move toward a knife wedged into the wood of the workbench "considering you don't have a heart. Considering... you're not Cas"

Dean didnt know if he was saying it aloud for the creature, or just to reassure himself. So that when he inevitably plunged a knife into this thing, he would know the expression of pain didn't truly belong to his friend.

"who I am doesn't matter" A small smile graced Cas' lips " The real question, is who are you?" Cas' eyes looked at Dean the way they had so many times like he was trying to understand him; like he thought if he stared long enough he could unravel the enigma that was Dean Winchester.

"what do you mean, who am I?" Dean trying to inch toward the knife, but the Qareen was tracing his movements

"You're a mystery. I can see inside your heart" They are both moving in sync, both so aware of the other " Feel the love you feel"

the use of that word causes Dean to stop in his tracks, and the creature stops with him "Except, its cloaked in shame"

and that's it isn't it? what it's all about. Dean has never been one to shy away from romantic feelings. Whereas one could describe him as emotionally constipated in almost every other area, romance had always been the easiest one, and even if he got turned down it never really affected how he approached potential partners.

But Cas was different. For starters he wasn't human, a factor he had gotten over a while ago but something that at the beginning had always been in the back of his mind. Back when Cas still spoke like an angel, 'raising him from perdition' and then subsequently threatening to throw him straight back to it. But it had been a long time since that mattered, a long time since he viewed Cas as Other in that way. and yet there was something so trivial yet so big that held him back. Cas was a man, his vessel was at least. And no matter how many people he meets, how much he grows and changes, his father is always there.

Throw away comments about 'pansys' and 'queers' and much harsher words that Dean doesn't even like to think. He can still remember his father watching the news and tutting at why "they have to go and get married, why can't they just stop shoving it in everyone's faces".

It felt wrong even back then, and Dean knows his father was wrong. Knows that even though he loves him, that he was an asshole on his best days. But the idea of people looking at him and thinking all those horrible things, the knowledge of what his father would think of him if he could see him now, always held him back.

When he spent too long looking into Cas' eyes, when Cas touched him and he felt himself light up, when he said something that sounded slightly too affectionate, he would feel his father's shame like a weight dropping down onto him.

He knew that he and Cas had something, that they shared a "more profound bond", as the angel had put it. But he could never get past the shame that lurked within him.

"when it comes to this" the creature continued, looking down at the shape it had taken, lifting a hand to Cas' chest and rubbing across it "You can't help yourself, so why fight it?"

To hear these words in Cas' voice; it was almost too much.

The creature was stalking its way forward "Just give in"

Ah, see that was just enough. That was so unlike Cas, to ask him to give in to anything, to not kick and fight the whole way as he always did, that it knocked Dean's mind out of its self-loathing and allowed him to act, to plan.

"yeah, you know what? You're right" suddenly feeling more confident that this was just another monster, just another hunt

"The real Cas, he does have a hold over me" It was the closest he had even come to admitting what it really was "but you... are nothing but a cheap imitation"

the creature was almost close enough to rip his heart from his chest, so he acted and did the first thing he could think of. He picked up a metal table to the side of him, holding it up like a shield just before the creature's hand burst right through the metal as if it were paper.

funnily enough, this felt more like Cas than the creature had been before, reminding Dean of when they first knew each other and Cas would constantly startle Dean with effortless strength. Holding a pipe Bobby swung directly for his head or lifting an entire anvil up as if he were holding a pillow.

Dean was taken out of his musings by the threat of losing his head as the creature pulled its arm free and he had to leap away rolling over the top of the workbench, just before the Qareen's hand went right through the thick wood. The way it moved was very stiff, not very artful, clearly not used to having to work physically for its food, used to victims presenting themselves eagerly for the face of their desires.

Then Dean's eyes caught on the knife he had been inching toward earlier, and he made a grab for it swinging haphazardly for the imitation of Cas' face, only to have his hand grabbed firmly, the creature squeezing at his arm until he was forced to relinquish the blade.

He was then shoved against the wall, held in place by Cas' large hand at his shoulder, the other raising, ready to push through layers of skin, muscle, and bone, to rip his heart straight from his body. Dean had no time to be scared, but if he had time to reflect he would have thought that dying to Cas' hands wouldn't be the worst way he could go.

but then it all stopped, the creature froze before stumbling back. Cas' face twisted in pain as it began to shake and scream before the body began to dissolve into smoke, and it all collapsed into a central blue light, almost like a star.

and then it was gone. And Sam was calling his name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not much had been said on the ride back to their motel, mostly focusing on cleaning up their mess, and driving home the victim. But now they were packing up their few things into duffel bags, getting ready to drive back to the bunker.

As Dean was shoving clothes unfolded into his bag, Sam's voice came from behind him "So you gonna keep me in suspense here or what?"

Dean continued to pack, hoping Sam wasnt asking what he thought "About what?"

"Who was it?" Sam was prying, he seemed casual about it, still moving between the bed and his bag as he grabbed and folded each item

"it, uh" Dean began to speak before he even knew what he was going to say. The truth? Or some half-baked lie about Daisy Duke batting her eyelashes at him before she lunged for his heart? but a calm almost washed over him as he allowed himself to be honest.

"it was Cas."

"huh." the was a pause where Dean felt like he truly could throw up "Does that surprise you?"

all his fear turned incredulous "That doesnt surprise you?"

For a moment the shame from his father came back, and the idea that something about him looked gay came into his mind. What if everyone knew? like it was something they could just tell about him. But Dean had to mentally remind himself that this was Sam, that his Dad was a bigot, that his dad hadn't been around to judge him for a long time now.

"Honestly?" Sam said, as if his answer was obvious

"Honestly." Dean parroted, his defensive nature rising up "What you seriously think Cas, the poor excuse for an angel that dresses like an accountant, is my deepest desire?"

it felt wrong to deflect, to be hurtful about Cas just because he was afraid, but the words just fell out.

"he isn't?" Sam responded simply

"No!" Dean's voice pitched up at the end of the syllable, and it sounded like a lie, even to his ears. "He cant be."

"why not?" the blunt way Sam was addressing him wasn't helping the rising panic in his chest

"Why? Because that means I'm-" The words get stuck, he can't say them, especially when he knows how he'll sound as they come out of his mouth. The Qareen was right, he's still ashamed.

"what Dean?" Sam's voice is soft, like he knows exactly what Dean is thinking, like he wants to say it for him so he doesn't have too

But Dean has to be the one to say it, he knows this. He attempts to steel his expression, but as the words come out he knows he sounds afraid "It would mean I'm - " Queer, a pansy, an embarrassment "Gay"

Even though they both knew what he was going to say, Sam's face changes to one of soft surprise "Dean, Did you honestly think that something like that would matter to me?"

Dean didnt know what to say. Logically he knew it wouldn't, but some part of him felt like it would somehow make him less of Sam's tough older brother, like somehow he would be letting him down, as irrational as it sounded

Sam took Dean's silence as a sign to continue "Look I know Dad had some stupid ideas about this kind of thing, but you gotta know that he was an idiot"

some old part of Dean wanted to get annoyed at Sam for speaking out against their father, for disgracing his memory, but the feeling wasn't strong enough for him to act on right now.

"you need to know that... you and Cas" his little brother, so smart seemed like he had no idea how to put his thoughts into words "it would be okay"

the words Sam settled on were simple but it felt like such sweet relief, because really that was all Dean wanted. For how he felt to be okay. To not feel like he was wrong every time he let his guard down. every time he let himself want. He didnt quite feel like he was okay, but hearing the words from Sam made him feel a hell of a lot closer to believing.

"Thanks, Sammy" Maybe in another world he could have teared up at a time like this and told his brother how much his acceptance meant to him. But for now, all he could do was give his beanpole of a brother a strong slap on the arm and say "Let's go home", home to where Cas is.

Part two

#destiel #deancas #dean x castiel #dean winchester #internalised homophobia #supernatural s11 #season 11 #team free will #sam winchester #john winchesters a+ parenting #s11e13 #ficlet #destiel fic #deancas fic #castiel

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gay-disabled-characters-showdown · 2 months

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LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 1, Wave 3, Poll 7

A character being totally canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included.

Check out the other polls in this wave and prior here.

Billie Lurk-Dishonored

Qualifications:

Canon gay, canon disabled (missing arm and eye)

Propaganda:

Kills nobles, got a hot goth witch gf for a bit then killed God

Zhou Zishu-Faraway Wanderers / Tian Ya Ke

Qualifications:

He is mlm, though there's no consensus in fandom whether he's bi or gay. (He had slept with women prior to meeting his male love interest, but the way he speaks of that kinda doesn't make it sound like he enjoyed it? So there's room for interpretation. Maybe hes bi who just happened to settle with a man, maybe hes a late bloomer gay.) Either way, the novel's main romance is his relationship with another man, and they are in a committed relationship by the end! Now, for the disability part. He has a physical disability that's a result of, how do I put it, non-realistic circumstances (stabbing poisoned nails into his acupoints non-realistic), but I think it qualifies for how it affects him.

To start with, he is a martial artist, but the nails thing limits him to about half of his normal ability. Which is still pretty significant given he used to be one of the top talents of his generation, but there are many instances throughout the book where he finds himself frustrated, inconvenienced, or endangered by being unable to do what he *used to* be able to do, which I think tracks with acquired disability experience. Next, the nails also give him chronic pain issues with daily (or rather, nightly) flare ups, and additional ones when he strains himself. That usually last for several hours. (Fandom also theorizes that this leaves him chronically sleep deprived, but it's more conjecture than textual.)

Then, his biggest issue is that the nails are slowly killing him, and he has like 2-3 years to live... but uh given it's a happy ending novel his friend gives him an experimental surgery and it works out. But! Gotta note that I don't think it counts as a case of 'magically cured disability' trope. It is plainly stated that he will still have some issues post-surgery - just, y'know, no longer life-ending ones. The tl;dr here is that while his situation is not something possible in the real world, it still affects him in a way an acquired physical disability may: limits things he can do compared to his pre-injury state, results in chronic pain issues, and requires difficult medical intervention to stymie the negative effects.

Propaganda:

Zhou Zishu, how do I explain him... He is a spymaster and an assassin. He put the current Emperor on the throne. He committed atrocities. He lost the person he saw as his little brother as a result. He still thinks he did what was right, in the grand scheme of things. He decides to start his retirement at age 28 by stabbing a bunch of poisoned nails into his chest, disguising himself as a beggar, and vanishing into jianghu to daydrink and sightsee. He is living his best life, all 3 remaining years of it. He is in pain every night. He meets a man who, unexpectedly, understands him with a glance... and then begins to annoy him ceaselessly, insisting he has fallen for Zishu at first sight.

Cue Zhou Zishu's horrified realization that he's not only into men, but into this clown in particular. Zishu falls in love the way a cat falls into a bath - hes trying to get out but keeps slipping back, and hes hissing all the while. (We love to bully him for his clownsexual ways.) (Also, if this makes anybody want to check out the novel, remember: Zhou Zishu is an unreliable narrator and Will lie to you. Pay attention to his actions and reactions, not just what he *says* he thinks!) Now, I could spend hours gushing about how WenZhou (the couple's ship name, and yes they are canon and the main romantic storyline) gave me unrealistic standards for romance, but I'm gonna hold myself back from writing a 6k essay and focus on the theme of the tournament. I consider Zhou Zishu a disabled protagonist because: while his situation itself is non-realistic (aforementioned 'stabbing a bunch of poisoned nails into his chest'), the way it affects him is actually pretty similar, and in some ways really the same, to how an acquired physical disability may affect a person. First, it limits what he can do, physical activity-wise, to about half of his pre-injury state. (Which is still rather a lot, given he used to be a top dog martial artist, but it's still noticeable to him.) Second, it gives him chronic pain issues, with nightly flare-ups. (And additional ones when he strains himself.) (Also, at a certain point in the book his love interest starts holding him through his flare ups. Which doesn't lessen the pain but does help Zishu cope with it better. It's very important to me that it doesn't magically help but it does Mentally help and thats enough. The "stay with him morning and night, holding his hand" of it all (; v ;) yes thats a quote from the book.) And third, it requires a difficult surgery to stymie its negative effects (him dying in three years ones). (Yeah btw its not the case of magic surgery perfectly 'fixing' (bleugh) the character; he still need physical-therapy-analogue after it, and his uh medical professional also states he will likely still have some issues post-op.)

#polls #poll #disabled characters #lgbtq characters #disability #lgbtq #billie lurk #dishonored #zhou zishu #faraway wanderers #tian ya ke

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lovelybarnes · 3 years

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baby blue- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, tony stark bruce banner, steve rogers, sam wilson warnings: child bucky, language, this is long. why is this so long about: requested by @cherry-season (apparently can't tag you)! bucky turns into a baby/toddler and is clingy a/n: okay so i know virtually nothing about three-year-olds. can you tell? thank you so much for requesting!! I had so much fun writing this <333

[@tylard-blog1]

bucky’s day wasn’t particularly fantastic to begin with.

he was already exhausted when he woke up in the early lights of the morning, his nightmares had kept him up all night-- which you theorized was due to the mission the day before that took place in one of the same hydra bases bucky had been held in. you had frowned when you realized it the day of, turning your attention to bucky and making sure he was okay with it because if he wasn’t, you would make sure someone else took care of it. he had insisted it was fine, even though the next night proved him wrong. you had done what you could, running your fingers through his hair and humming lightly until you fell asleep and he refused to wake you up, resigning himself to a sleepless night.

his morning started with his flesh arm reaching out to feel your side of the bed, hoping to find your soft, warm skin to pull you closer, but instead being met with the unkind sheets that missed the gentleness of your body. he had frowned when he realized you had already left for a meeting with some important hotshot in space with carol (you couldn’t find a better excuse to go get breakfast at your favorite alien restaurant with your favorite aliens) and wouldn’t be back for a solid few hours too long. groaning, and with no real reason to stay in bed for any longer without the excuse of getting to feel you for a few more hours, he dragged himself out of bed.

it didn’t get much better from there, because he was greeted with the sight of sam eating the last bowl of the last box of cereal in the whole damn tower because everyone rejected to go grocery shopping. since bucky refused to eat any of the frozen breakfasts tony loved so much and the stark kid swore were “the best thing ever,” he grunted at sam and walked away without eating, knowing he’d regret it later when his stomach would growl and you would immediately know he skipped breakfast.

for some unknown reason, tony had found out about bucky’s lack of things to do, and with a few winks and manipulative large-worded engineering phrases, convinced him to join him in the lab, which bucky had only really been able to see through the clear glass that separated the lab from the rest of the tower, and from the occasions where he would take food and drinks to you while you locked yourself away inside, building something alongside tony.

being inside, so close to the various machines and objects bucky cant begin to figure out the purpose of, his memories of being in school and at the top of his math and engineering classes bubble to the surface, filling him with the pride he remembers having every day at school. the thought that he could probably understand everything if you or tony explained it to him passes through his mind and urges him to ask tony to do just that, but tony beats him before he can get the chance.

bruce is eyeing them wearily from the other side of the lab, attention mostly on the test tubes in front of him. he gives bucky a smile when he comes in, but seems to ignore him for the most part until tony shows bucky to bruce’s work station, pointing out a blue liquid in a test tube marked TESTING. bruce’s neck snaps to them when tony open his big mouth, “you know, y/n was actually supposed to test something out for me today,” tony begins innocently, a suggestion laced in his words that bucky catches but decides to ignore because of the high he feels from understanding the equations scribbled on the clear glass, “do you know where she is?”

bucky narrows his eyes at him, then looks up at the clock, realizing it’s still a while before you get back, “not even on earth,” he recipes blandly, slyly sneaking a glance at the liquid for any indications of what it could be.

tony sighs dramatically, his shoulders sagging, “oh no, how do i test this now?” bruce shoots tony a warning glance that is blatantly ignored.

bucky’s shrugging before he can help it, the reminder that since you were going to do it, what could be the harm if he did? “i could do it.”

tony claps, “great!” he gestures to a door behind him, “please go in there to sign non-disclosure agreements and wash your hands.”

bucky’s shoved inside before he can fully understand the implications of his stupid offer.

the thought of asking the basic questions he should have asked before he agreed to test an unidentified liquid comes to bucky nearly an hour later, when the small vial of weird blue liquid sits in front of him, waiting to be drunk. tony and bruce sit in chairs a couple of feet away, clipboards in both of their hands, and interested expressions settled on their features.

“what does this do again?” he asks, squinting at the vial that he doesn’t notice tony isn’t looking at, furrowing his eyebrows when tony waves him off, “something super smart. no side effects or anything.” bucky’s eyes flit down to the little vial again, before they nearly bug out of his head at the humongous laser that is rolled into the room, “what the hell is that.”

“ah,” tony grins, bouncing from his seat to stand next to his invention proudly, “this is what you’re testing out.” bucky cocks his head at the man, “i thought i was drinking blue water. y/n was going to drink blue water.” tony shakes his head, adjusting some dials on the machine, “yeah, no, it was this. pretty sure i told you.”

“you didn’t-” bruce is looking at tony in concern, about to tell him to slow down so bucky has a chance to think all this through again and maybe ask if there is any chance the laser will melt him, when tony clicks a large red button and a bright white light clouds bucky’s vision just as he sees the clock on the exact same time he saw an hour ago, realizing the clock in the billion-dollar lab is broken, and you’re probably getting home any second.

“tony!” he hears bruce yell before his vision goes dark.

it’s only a second until he can pry open his eyes again, a hand curling into a fist, ready to pound stark into tomorrow when he can suddenly feel the nails of his hand digging into his palm. the surprising feeling of it where his vibranium arm should be forces him to look down at a small arm, fully skin and thin. he looks around, noticing his surroundings suddenly have grown very large around him, and the sound of his voice is higher when he tries to speak again.

“what the f-” he mumbles, cutting himself off when a sudden memory of his ma yelling at him to wash his mouth out if he wants to talk like that floods his mind, and he stares down at himself, eyebrows furrowing when he spots his short stature and the tiny hands and feet that look up at him. realization floods him like a wave, raising his chin at the two, tall, gobsmacked men in front of. “was that supposed to happen?” bruce asks quietly, nodding slowly when tony shakes his head, “no.”

there’s a light knock at the door, your hand pushing it open before anyone can stop you, and your tired face peeks in, a glowing smiling adorning your face and your eyes searching for your boyfriend, “hey, do you guys know where bucky is-” your voice cuts through the stunned silence, pausing when you catch the little boy’s eye. at first, you stare at him, your eyebrows pulling together as you get a good look at the familiar cerulean of his eyes and scan the clothing you’d seen on bucky before. for a second, everything is silent, bucky’s eyes are wide and staring as yours bore into them, searching for something you’re nearly touching until you gasp, “bucky?” you choke, reaching for him when he nods, his legs already trying to reach you as fast as they possibly can but they buckle. bucky realizes just then how old he must be now. “oh, baby,” you murmur, gathering him up in your arms before he can fall to the hard ground of the lab. “what the hell did you idiots do to my boyfriend?” you demand, turning to the two scientists who are going over tony’s notes.

bruce glances at tony, tilting his head at him as if to say him. you roll your eyes, not having any more information than when you asked, “tony?” you growl, walking over to the man, not missing the way little bucky’s hand grabs onto your shirt.

“it didn’t- that wasn’t supposed to happen,” tony defends weakly, a lazy shrug pulling at his shoulders. your eyes flash with velvet red, and, without moving a finger, tony’s pulled in front of you, wrapped in red swirls bucky can’t help but gawk at.

“fix it.” you order. tony nods, pursing his lips, “we’ll do that.” bruce looks a little taken aback, looking up from tony’s scribbles and equations. “i don’t think it’ll last more than a day,” he offers helpfully, “whatever it was tony was trying to do wasn’t either.”

bucky’s eyes start to droop, which he assumes is an effect of the sleepless night he just had on his infant body, something that usually wouldn’t affect him in his one-hundred-and-six-year-old self. he hums when he realizes the irony, leaning his head against the welcoming crook of your neck and catching your attention. you turn to him for a moment, softening a little before turning back to tony and glaring at him, “fix it.”

steve catches you when you walk out of the lab, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head when he spots the toddler in your arms, “holy shit, that looks exactly like bucky,” he breathes, scanning the dark mussed-up hair and stepping back when bucky opens his eyes. from next to him, sam looks from bucky to you, “did you two have a kid and not tell anyone, because this-”

“is bucky. that’s bucky.” you interrupt, looking at the toddler, “tony messed up with something and… this happened, i don’t completely… bucky’s a baby.”

steve raises an eyebrow, squinting at his best friend, “ha,” he laughs, “wow, he looks exactly like his pictures. he must be about three years old.” bucky blinks at him. “his ma said he was chatting up a storm at that age, though,” steve informs, looking back up at you. sam grins, “has he said anything? i kinda want to hear if he still sounds old.” bucky frowns at him, his pout deepening when sam bursts into laughter, “his grumpy face is the same!”

you look at your boyfriend, tilting your head and smiling a little when you realize he’s right, “you’re cute,” you coo now that you get a good look at him, “you’re so cute,” you murmur, poking his nose with your finger. bucky can’t help the blush that comes to his cheeks. but he slaps away sam’s fingers, scowling at him, “no.” he argues, “no.”

sam frowns, “no old man voice.”

“i hate you,” bucky says to sam, and you laugh, “i think we should leave for now. i need to figure out what will make three-year-old bucky not as grumpy.” sam looks at bucky’s furrowed brows and the same two little lines between them, his eyes flickering back up to yours, “i think that may just be a bucky thing.”

you bring bucky to the living room, sitting him down at the edge of the couch and crouching in front of him, watching him and his little crossed arms, bottom lip jutted out against his own will. bucky isn’t used to the emotional control of a child who’s three and can’t control the frustration that’s coursing through him at the moment. the only thing he knows for sure is that he doesn’t want you to leave him again.

“bucky?” you start, looking deep into the wide blue eyes that let you know it is bucky you’re speaking to. “what do you want to do? are you hungry? d’you want to sleep?” bucky shakes his head stubbornly at you, “i want tony to fix this.”

you sigh, “i know, baby. i do too, but until he finds a cure to this, you’re gonna stay small for a couple more hours.” he pouts at that, and you smooth your thumb over his cheek, “no pouting. we can do whatever you want, buck.”

just as he’s about to reject any idea you have, his stomach rumbles loudly, directing your attention to the arms that guiltily cover up his middle. “bucky... did you eat breakfast today?” you query, a lecturing tone sneaking into your words. “sam ate my cereal,” bucky grumbles, crossing his arms.

“bucky!” you exclaim, standing up to turn to the kitchen, “that’s no excuse. i told you you needed to eat--” you’re barely three steps into the kitchen when you hear the pattering of his feet towards you, grubby hands pawing at your legs.

“don’t leave,” he whines, hugging your ankles and sitting down on the floor, “you left all morning,” he mumbles, smushing his cheeks against your calf.

“i’m sorry,” you apologize, bending over to brush away the hair that falls over his eyes. “c’mere,” you murmur, reaching down to pick him up again and bounce him on your hip while you head to the kitchen. “what do you want to eat?” bucky thinks about it for a minute, before smiling, “i want pizza and ice cream.” you frown at him, “i don’t think three-year-olds can eat that. actually, i don’t think anyone should.”

after consulting google on what three-year-olds should eat, you have bucky’s head resting on your shoulder, refusing to let you put him down even as you made him the mac and cheese he had agreed to, still a little upset over the fact you wouldn’t let him eat all the other things he wanted. the only time he let you not carry him was when he was eating, still insisting you sit right next to him to watch as he smeared cheese all over tony’s expensive table.

“okay,” you whisper breathlessly after watching him eat his third bowl of the meal, “i think that’s good.” you shove the dirty dishes in the sink, washing bucky’s hands and wiping at him cheeks with a warm cloth to get the mess he managed to create off. “did you forget how to eat?” you wonder aloud when you finally fnish cleaning him up, watching his small shoulders shrug.

“what do you want to do now? anything you want,” you propose.

“i want you,” he says, reaching his stubby arms out, “cuddles. ‘m sleepy,” he yawns, making grabby hands at you when you take too long to pick him up. “bucky,” you chuckle, complying with him and bringing him into your chest, where he leans his head on your shoulder. “you sure you don’t want to play or something? you don’t want to…” you trail off, trying to think of what three-year-olds do, “walk or read or something?”

bucky grunts in your ear, his eyelids already closing again, “cuddles,” he repeats, balling your shirt up in his little hands.

“okay,” you sigh, bouncing him gently while you walk to your shared bedroom. you pick up a stuffed animal you brought for bucky from one of your most recent missions, “did you sleep last night? is that why you’re so tired?” bucky hums, cuddling further into your chest when you lay down with him on top of you. you hand him the little dog plush, pressing a kiss to his head when he takes the gift, hugging it with you. “honey, i’m sorry,” you frown, gently threading your fingers through his short hair, humming the same song bucky sings to you when you can’t get to sleep. it doesn’t take long to lull him into the calmness of rest.

you only wake up when the weight on you is suddenly multiplied, completely taking your breath away, “bucky!-” you exclaim, rolling from underneath him to meet his closed eyes. you shake your head with a light laugh, drawing a strand of hair behind his ear before you press your lips to his cheeks, snuggling in with him again, “sweet dreams, darling,” you murmur, placing the stuffed animal he dropped on your dresser.

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pepper-up-potion · 3 years

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A Telling Fortune (Dean Thomas x Gn!reader)

Summary: Dean, knowing very little about tarot, does a card reading for you.

Warnings: mention of the future and having children. Other than that it’s fluff! fluff! fluff!

Word count: 940

A/n: this idea has been brewing in my head for a while now. Unfortunately for me, I was hit with a stroke of brilliance in the middle of my class so I started writing this at the same time as taking down my class notes. Definitely not my proudest moment but I’m quite happy with the final result.

“Okay my turn.” Says Dean as he excitedly shifts in his seat and makes grabby hands at the cards.

“I didn’t know you knew how to do tarot readings.” You comment, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“There’s all sort of things you don’t know about me lovebug.” He flirts, adding a wink and a flash of his honey sweet smile.

You slide your tarot deck across the table, maintaining eye contact. “Show me what you’ve got, lovebug.” You slur the nickname, challengingly. You doubt he’ll be able to charm the cards into doing what he wants. This time he’ll actually have to work to get answers.

Dean clumsily shuffles the cards , cursing under his breath when a few fall out of his hands. He shuffles them a few more times until they straighten themselves out in his hand. He slaps the deck down on the table and slides a hand away from the deck to fan out the cards.

“Pick your fortune.” He says as if he was pitching a business deal. He once again flashes his bright smile. You think he would have a lot of success in costumer service jobs with a smile like that. Add in his good business pitching skills and you’ve got yourself a perfect candidate.

You slowly slide your hand over the cards picking the three that resonate most.

You flip them face up for both you and Dean to inspect. The three cards immediately speak to you. You catch yourself starting to analyse them and theorize their meaning. You shake your head pushing the thoughts out of your mind as you remind yourself that’s Dean’s job this time.

Dean quietly looks at the cards. He places his fingers to his chin and slides his index up and down his jaw mindlessly as he studies the details of the cards.

After a moment, Dean suddenly claps his hands and rubs them together. “Okay.” His voice sounds much too cheerful for the meaning of your cards. “You ready?” He raises his brow with his question.

You nod slowly, ready to accept your fate.

Dean points to the first card.

“This card means you’re the most beautiful human inside and out.” He declares matter-of-factly.

You knit your brows, titling your head doubtfully. “Um Dea-“

Dean waves a hand signalling you to stop talking. “Please, please no speaking during my interpretation of the cards.” He sounds so grandiose and spectacular, almost like a magician entertaining a crowd. Well, at least you can confirm it’s definitely entertaining you.

You hold back a laugh. After taking a moment to recollect yourself, you rotate your hand a couple times, signalling him to continue. “Go on love.”

Dean nods sternly. “Now, as I was saying-“ he starts with false offence.

“This card here.” He taps the second card a couple times. “This one means I am the luckiest man in the world because I am dating the most beautiful human in the world. Note the connection between this card and the other one.” You can see it written all over his face, he’s proud of the link he made between the cards even if it’s a conceivable and almost humoristic association.

You cover your smile with your hand. It’s a very cute sight to see and you just can’t help but feel giddy. Even though you know the cards aren’t saying that, Dean sounds so sure and so confident, you actually fall for it a little, let yourself get swayed. You nod, encouraging him to continue.

“This card.” He hums, picking it up and holding it out for you. “This last card is my favourite.” He peaks around the card smiling wide. “This one means we’re going to live happily ever after. You and me, maybe a couple kids, a cozy home, weekend family trips, fancy dates every Friday. We’ll even find such a great babysitter that you won’t have to worry about the kids whenever we’re out, not even for a second.” He shakes his head indisputably.

You laugh loudly, delighted that he even thought about a babysitter. Finally settling from your fit of laughs, you look back at Dean. He’s smiling at you, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. After all the cards did say it. You were right. Dean wasn’t able to charm the cards into saying what he wanted. Though he somehow charmed you into believing they were something else.

You shake your head, unsure if you should be proud or disappointed in him. You push yourself out of your seat and lean over the table, feet dangling as you rely on your arms to propel your body further onto the table. You stop once you’re face to face with Dean.

“Thank you.” You affection as he leans forward to meet your lips. You kiss for a while with Dean’s hands in your hair and yours stabilizing under your chin, helping to keep your head propped over the table. It’s soft and slow, bubbling with love.

Finally you pull away and wiggle ungracefully off the table and back into your seat. Dean smiles, looking at you like you still somehow hold the first place spot for worlds best human even after a stun like that.

“That was sweet, but your reading wasn’t correct.” You tease, trying to diffuse the tension.

Dean scoffs, brushing you off with a hand. “You questioning the validity of my reading?”

You hum pulling the cards towards you. “Yup.” You confirm, quickly doing your own of the cards. “None of it’s true.” You confirm.

Dean leans forward, drawing your eyes towards him. “Well it’s true to me.”

General taglist: @pottahishotasf, @oliverwoodmarrymepls, @cupids-crystals,

Dean Thomas taglist: be the first one on my beloved dean’s taglist by filling out this form!

#dean thomas #dean thomas x reader #dean thomas x you #dean thomas x y/n #dean thomas x gn!reader #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean imagine #dean thomas imagine #hp fanfic #hp characters

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sapphicquill · 3 years

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TAZ Balance: the truth will set you free

(ao3 link!)

Rating: Teen

Characters: Taako, Kravitz, Magnus

Wordcount: 2942

“You’re fuming, dear.”

Taako turns to look at Kravitz when the reaper speaks, trying not to let the thin frown fall off of his face at the sight of his uncharacteristically smug dead boyfriend. From his spot as Taako’s personal body pillow, Magnus laughs quietly.

“I can’t believe he convinced you to teach him this shit,” Taako says with an exaggerated huff. The elf crosses his arms tightly across his chest, sticking his chin up haughtily to hammer home his petulence. Magnus laughs again, the vibrations of it rumbling through Taako’s back like a purr. Taako very courteously does not throw an elbow backwards into the fighter’s stomach, despite how much he would enjoy doing just that. Kravitz lets out a hum, smirk not quite leaving his unfairly handsome face.

“It’s not my fault Angus got curious about multiclassing as a bard,” the reaper finally says. And, as much as Taako was loath to acknowledge it, Kravitz is right. Taako groans theatrically and pointedly does not actually respond like an adult, because fuck that.

Angus had approached Taako after one of their lessons together--much less frequent than they once were, before Lucas had gotten the idea to start up a small magic school, but Angus seemed content to return to his first (and clearly superior) tutor whenever the chance presented itself. But instead of asking for some sage wisdom or deeply insightful advice from Taako himself, Angus had asked for confirmation that Kravitz had been a bard before becoming a reaper, then begged for Taako to bring him along for their next lesson.

Kravitz had been over the moon when Taako begrudgingly explained the situation, and the reaper wasted absolutely no time in devising a lesson plan for the boy detective. Taako had to work especially hard to keep from swooning over his boyfriend’s enthusiasm and instead sulked to their other boyfriend about the cruelty of life. (Magnus had been very little help, the bastard. Taako left with a disgruntled whine when the fighter started theorizing on how to convince Ango that learning some rogue skills could be helpful too, the absolute traitor.)

“You want to know what I think?” Kravitz asks after another moment of silence. Taako frowns as he finally lets his gaze meet the reaper’s eyes directly.

“Not particularly, but something tells me you’re going to keep talking anyway, you dick.”

“You’re jealous.”

Taako feels himself freeze for half a second before he can pull himself together. Damn Kravitz for knowing him so well. Damn him and Magnus for making him feel comfortable enough to even let himself be read that easily. Damn them both.

“Oh fuck right off, you’re full of shit,” the elf tosses back almost automatically through gritted teeth.

“Hey, play nice,” Magnus teases, poking Taako in the side. The unexpected jab sends a fluttering shockwave through the startled wizard, who squeaks before he can catch himself. Kravitz continues to look on smugly, not breaking eye contact with Taako as he scoots further up the bed and closer to the other two.

“You’re very precious when you get all wound up like this, love,” he murmurs. Taako shifts, instinct telling him to pull away and hide, to clam up and put up an even harder front. A quiet voice that sounded worryingly sweet and comforting tells him to just come clean to the both of his boyfriends. It wasn’t like they didn’t know he was secretly a soft, if somewhat emotionally-deficient, sap. Magnus had definitely figured it out somewhere along that first hundred years, and Kravitz was frighteningly perceptive.

A sudden weight around his waist distracts Taako from the beginning of whatever bullshit emotional spiral he’s about to fall into, his body automatically pulling against the sudden restriction. Though the warmth of Magnus’ arms encircling him from behind sends an innate sense of calm through him, the elf nearly pulls something in his neck as he whips his head toward the human because Magnus, what the actual hell. Magnus has the decency to look a bit sheepish, but resolutely does not let go.

“Mags…” Taako growls, narrowing his eyes and trying to look intimidating despite the growing fluttering of excitement in his stomach. He’s quickly figuring out Magnus’ plan and is now desperate to not show his hand because fuck, this got different, fast. This somehow turned into Taako goading his boys into absolutely wrecking him for being a stubborn piece of shit, which he hadn’t even considered as an outcome when this mock argument had started. Now, however, his mind is three steps ahead, already craving the feeling of his partners’ touches driving him insane.

Because here’s the thing—Taako, maybe, kinda, sorta actually likes getting tickled. He absolutely would never say as much, even under pain of death (and he is really familiar with how fucking painful death can be), and the only other being in the multiverse that probably knows is Lup because, duh, twin sister or whatever. So it was always imperative Taako never let on in any way he didn’t exactly hate it when Magnus and Kravitz, whether alone or together, decide to tickle him stupid. He would probably implode from the embarrassment—and what a dumb fucking way to go after everything else. No, that wouldn’t do at all.

Thus, it’s second nature for the elf to throw out menacing glares and cutting threats, which is exactly what he does as he feels Magnus flex his fingers and rest them at the center of his stomach. He’s unable to resist flinching at the sudden light touch to his bare midriff, though—damn, why did he and Lup convert the majority of his wardrobe into crop tops?

Movement at the other end of the bed catches his attention, so he redirects back to Kravitz, face pinched and pout sufficiently exaggerated.

“It’s quite alright, Taako, really,” the reaper says, affecting the tone he usually saves for puppies and small children, the absolute ass, “You’re allowed to want to be Angus’ favorite.”

“Shut up, I do not—”

The remainder of Taako’s protest is swallowed by a sharp gasp as Magnus draws his fingers across Taako’s stomach with a quick flick

“Do you really think you’re in any position to be bitchy right now?” the human says, smile evident despite his gruff tone. Taako feels his ear twitch as Magnus’s breath skates across his skin and it takes every ounce of concentration he has to not shiver or let out a breathy half-laugh. Instead the elf remains as still as possible, frown almost ridiculously exaggerated and eyes narrow slits focused on Kravitz. The reaper adopts an over-the-top pout—no doubt meant to mock Taako’s own expression—and draws ever closer to Taako and Magnus.

“Magnus, maybe you could help me convince our beloved to be more honest, hm?”

The words have barely left Kravitz’s mouth when Taako feels Magnus begin to slowly drag his fingertips across his exposed stomach. Tiny zings of tickly sensation burst across Taako’s skin like low-level electricity and somehow keeping still and silent is the hardest thing Taako’s ever done in his life. He can’t, however, keep the warm bubbling feeling of anticipation and excitement from flooding his entire body, and that, of course, makes keeping still even fucking harder.

Magnus’ fingers trail lightly across Taako’s abdomen before slowly gliding up his sides. Without really meaning to, Taako squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will himself into a trance by force. This clearly amuses both of his boyfriends, as their joint chuckles echo in stereo in the sudden darkness. Taako feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, one wrong move and he’ll cascade off the side and plunge ten thousand feet—

Then Magnus’s devilish touch reaches the top of his ribs and the dam breaks.

A steady stream of hiccuping giggles pours from Taako as Magnus gently skitters light tickles across one of Taako’s absolute worst spots and even without looking, the elf can tell that his boyfriends have both got gleeful expressions on their stupid fucking faces. He squirms, trying in vain to block out the torturous sensation of Magnus’ fingers or escape their attack altogether, but that just seems to encourage the fighter. Feather-light scritches instantly turn into fast, fluttering pinches and quick vibrating prods and Taako would be embarrassed about how quickly he dissolves into full-fledged laughter if he wasn’t so busy absolutely losing his mind.

“Ready to admit you secretly adore Angus yet, love?” Kravitz asks from far too close, Taako can tell he’s almost pressed up against his chest, but fucking of course he isn’t. He can practically hear the mischievous grin in the reaper’s voice when he shakes his head.

“You leave me no choice, then.”

Over the sounds of his increasingly frantic laughter, Taako can hear Kravitz speaking the incantation for Zone of Truth, and he’s sure Krav’s crimson eyes are sparkling with mirth. The unique sensation of enchantment magic washing over him barely phases the elf—he’s too preoccupied with Magnus’ deft hands flitting up and down his ribs to really pay it much mind. Taako squeezes his eyes even tighter and attempts to focus on resisting the truth spell, gasping around his laughter, trying to push past the way his nerves feel like they’ve been set alight so he can focus—

And then promptly fails his save.

Of course he fails his save. How could he possibly concentrate on resisting a Zone of Truth from a powerful ex-bard-turned-Grim-Reaper with Magnus’ fucking fingers skittering across his abdomen, drawing squeaky, desperate laughter from him like water from a well?

“Now, come on, dove, be honest with us.”

And then Kravitz is tickling him too, on top of concentrating on a fucking spell, his nimble musician’s fingers skittering ruthlessly across Taako’s hips, and it’s impossible to think about anything other than the fluttering in his stomach, the laughter forcing its way out of his lungs, the pleasant fuzziness already clouding his mind. He can’t even remember Krav’s question, really. Taako’s brain feels like it’s been filled with cotton (but like, in a good way) and he can barely string two thoughts together before giving up thinking altogether.

“Admit it, Taako, tell us the truth,” Kravitz purrs directly into Taako’s ear and even that tickles like hell, and between that and the two pairs of hands currently wreaking ticklish havoc on him, it feels like every wire in Taako’s brain is crossing simultaneously. He wants this to end and also never wants this to end, why can’t his boyfriends wreck him like this constantly, it’s not fair—

“Tell us, Ko, come on!” Magnus whines, seemingly trying to match Taako’s usual petulant tone as he drills his fingers into the wizard’s underarms and knocks his laughter up at least ten decibels, and that’s what pushes Taako to open his big, stupid mouth. He means to say something about the dumb boy detective, he really does, but instead all he can think about is Kravitz and Magnus making him scream and laugh and thrash around with teasing words and fluttering fingers and, well—

“I—I—” Taako’s voice breaks on a laugh, brain going a million miles an hour and also stuck in the mud simultaneously.

“Yes dear, that’s it, come on, out with it,” Kravitz says while rubbing incessantly ticklish circles into Taako’s sides. And that finally pushes an answer out of Taako, who manages to push through his laughter long enough to speak.

“I fucking like being tickled, okay?—Shit—!”

Suddenly, the two pairs of hands on Taako’s skin still, and as his laughter slowly dies down, the full impact of what he’d just actually admitted to hits the elf like a cartload of bricks. Fuck. Shit.

Weirdly, instead of instant fiery panic, Taako is filled with a sense of...calm? It’s like someone hit pause on the entire fucking universe. Taako keeps his eye closed and resolutely doesn’t think about what just happened; doesn’t think about anything, other than a burning sense of mortification and the deepest desire for a hole to open up and swallow him up.

“Nope, okay, that’s—I didn’t—no, fuck this,” Taako mumbles as he sits up, easily breaking out of Magnus’ hold. With eyes still closed he leaps up from the large bed and has half a mind to burn a Teleportation spell to get as far away from his boyfriends as possible before feeling a cool hand wrap around his wrist. Taako can identify the feel of Kravitz’s touch almost alarmingly well, and normally he sinks into it without more than a few grumbled faux-complaints. Here and now, the wizard doesn’t instantly pull his arm from Kravitz’s grasp like he desperately wants to, but he doesn’t move toward him either. Instead, he keeps his eyes closed and pretends he’s literally anywhere else.

“Taako, wait,” and that’s Magnus’ voice, the one that always makes a small part of Taako melt because it’s so full of genuine love and affection and care and fuck, he has to open his eyes and face the two men he actually definitely loves, shit. He braces himself, not exactly sure what expressions might adorn the faces of his boyfriends but he’s prepared for the worst.

The first thing Taako sees when he opens his eyes is, unsurprisingly, Kravitz, as the reaper is closer to him. What does surprise Taako is the look Kravitz is giving him. The other man looks—apologetic?

“Taako, I’m so sorry,” Kravitz starts, and Taako feels his heart stutter a bit, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “I should never have cast Zone of Truth and forced you to tell us that.”

And that—

That’s not what Taako had expected to hear come out of Kravitz’s mouth. He’d more or less thought, at the very least, he’d get laughed at. Made fun of. Belittled. Shamed. This is—far from all of that.

“I—what?”

If it had been any other time, Taako would have congratulated Krav for actually rendering him fucking speechless, because that’s a rarity. As it is, Taako can’t do much of anything aside from gape, gaze not leaving Kravitz’s crimson eyes.

“The spell, it didn’t compel you but it forces you to be truthful, and you clearly weren’t ready to tell either of us that you—”

At this, Kravitz seems to pause, looking like he’s attempting to phrase his words as carefully as possible while still turning over this new information in his mind. Luckily, Magnus, as he always seems able to, picks up right where their Grim Reaper leaves off.

“You’re totally waiting for us to roast you or something, aren’t you?”

Fuck, has Magnus always been this perceptive? Taako could have sworn he was oblivious as all hell but no, this is the man he’s known for over a century, of course Magnus knows all his tells.

“Well, we’re not going to,” the fighter barrels forward, always fucking rushing in, and Taako isn’t sure whether he wants to dive back onto the bed or Misty Step to the front porch to call Lup on the Stone of Farspeech and just scream.

“Why would we? It’s not like you’ve told us something weird or bad or anything,” Kravitz adds, finally out of his own head. He sounds a little frantic, like he desperately needs Taako to believe him and fantasy Christ, Taako loves him for it.

“Honestly, it’s kind of adorable,” Magnus adds. Taako finally cocks his head enough to meet the human’s eyes and he’s known Magnus long enough to tell when he’s lying.

He’s absolutely not lying.

The sense of relief that Taako expects to flood through him comes in waves. His heart is still beating a million miles an hour (which he hadn’t even noticed, fuck) and it still feels like he could cook a five course meal using only the heat collected on his face, but his desire to run and hide and sulk is retreating, and the space between Magnus and Kravitz is looking more and more inviting by the second.

It’s the most natural thing in the entirety of the planar system for Taako to lower himself back onto the bed and resume his position lounging against Magnus. Quiet descends on the room and it’s warm, comfortable.

“We should probably have a real conversation about this later,” Kravitz says, and Taako surprises himself by humming in agreement rather than groaning in protest.

“Later,” he concedes, and then Magnus is shifting again and Taako’s about to grouse about how a moving pillow is a pretty shitty pillow when—

“So if you actually like getting tickled—”

An involuntary shudder shoots down Taako’s back at this, at Magnus’ voice curling around that word, fuck, and suddenly the great brute’s hands are back on Taako’s ribs and his fingers are slowly tracing Taako’s skin and it’s like a bolt of lightning through his entire consciousness.

“Then you won’t mind if Krav and I get back to work, huh?”

Despite quickly being overcome by tittering giggles, Taako can sense a voiceless conversation happening over him, and then Kravitz is back in his space and his hands are inching up Taako’s thighs, squeezing and stroking lightly as they go.

“Yes, Magnus is right—you never actually told us what we really wanted to hear, love,” Kravitz purrs, mischief and affection so clear on his face that there’s no room for Taako’s anxiety to even attempt to convince him of something horrible.

So instead of spiraling into a pit of despair, Taako revels in the wide grin pulling at his lips, savors the electric sensations rippling across his nerve endings, and laughs.

#tk fic #tk fic community #tickle fic #taz fic #the adventure zone fanfic #taz tickle fic #taagnitz #lee taako #ler kravitz #ler magnus #it's happened #it's here #my first official tk fic #posted in celebration of national tickling day because of course #sapphicquillfics

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kwangyadetective · 2 years

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Hi I really love everything you write here, but I have a question since you only focua on few group. Do you have a connection or link which every group or non group in SM involved? I watched Yunho solo recently and the place is similar to NCT Heroes (the yellow room) also Changmin single Chocolate is very interesting since he look like he stole something. I belive TVXQ still have a huge influence on SM and they are olderst group on SM. Also about Super Junior which delayed their album past year and change the tittle track, I think its because of SMCU. Shinee is obvious because they take a shoot on train station, which is very important in SM (train). Maybe if you may give me sight about that?

Heyy, sorry for the late response and thanks so much for reading my theories hehe. I hope you don’t mind that I have a huge bomb long essay for you.

As for your question, unfortunately I can’t give you a definite answer. Mainly because I’m not familiar with the older artists’ lores aside from NCT and aespa (at least I have little knowledge for EXO’s and Red Velvet’s). I rarely see people theorizing about them or perhaps I barely come accross their theories. But I’ll give you some things I know.

SMCU as a whole, should be connected in some way. I mean we literally have Kwangya that is like the mixture of every artists’ worlds. We just don’t know how deep are they connected. For the most part, the artists have their own stories that they primarily focuses on in their MVs. Examples are like NCT making their dreams come true and aespa defeating their next villain and perhaps ae-Karina’s problem that we haven’t seen more of it. When we talk about connection of each artists’ stories, its more about SuperM and perhaps GOT (SM’s rotational girlgroup). They all have their own worlds/homeplanets and possibly can visit each other, SMCU Express gave that idea (possibly using trains), but as of now, I don’t think it affects their own lores at least greatly. Again, each artists have their own thing to deal with. Perhaps there can be more connection revealed if we talk about the creation of the whole SMCU and Kwangya, if SM would ever show it to us… we had the Tree of Life but don’t know if they still use it or not. It almost seems like they are rebranding their overall story when they officially introduced SMCU to us, but really, we don’t know. I blame SM for being vague.

Though I do have a theory that, whatever antagonistic character that are featured in their stories, must come from the same source. Take Black Mamba for example. We also had the (eye of the) Red Force, though we don’t know if they still use it. One thing to take note is that, each artists have their own villainous sides. There are MVs or contents that have so much villain vibes (SuperM trailers, RV Irene&Seulgi’s Monster, or honestly many of Taemin’s MVs which made me suspicious of his role in the overall story). This made a lot of people think that there might be an entity that is interfering or influencing them. You may also want to take note of the animals present in MVs. Snakes, deer (with glowing eyes), odd eyed cat (it has the red eye effect), etc. I’ve always thought they’re ‘agents’ under the evil entity.

I watched the videos you mentioned.

As for U-KNOW’s MV, I think its just to match the Korean traditional interior since the concept of the MV has something to do with traditional crime organizations or mafias (please correct me if I’m wrong). Changmin’s Chocolate does look like he stole something, but I don’t remember him actually taking the object? To be honest I’m not very sure if these scenarios are related to their SMCU role. TVXQ’s character is Speed of Light and Sound… I would need to go over all of their MVs and lyrics to understand what that truly means. Vague ideas I had of their characters are that they could be (time) travelers(?), humanoids (because of their song), or something that perhaps have a higher role than other artists since they are one of older ones. For now, I don’t have a clear idea.

I’m sure there is more to SHINee’s lore but as of now, I only know about Taemin’s and his villain-esque aesthetic. Plus his possible connection to snakes and the black mamba. For some reason too, their SMCU Express train was only shown in the sky and Key having speed power(?).

I don’t know about Super Junior delaying their album and changing their title track. And I’m not sure if SMCU affects their real life activities.

But to conclude, there is possibly a connection of each artists’ lores but SM is too vague to reveal it to us. At this point, they are focused on their own stories. Hopefully this year they will bring up SMCU as a whole again and perhaps make contents that will clear what really happened overall but I’m not expecting too much either. We’ll see.

#falling down the rabbit hole

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maries-gallery · 3 years

Note

Hi hun! Could I ask for an ikevamp match up please?

My pronouns are she/her, hetero.

Personality:

I'm an infp and a pisces. I'm very dreamy and artistic - love crocheting, reading, writing poems and stories as well as doing arts and crafts in my spare time. I also LOVE going on walks and exploring places - my curiosity knows no bounds. I'm a responsible, efficient and reliable person though I can also be very childish once I feel comfortable around someone. That being said, I am a perfectionist and have depression and anxiety as a result of growing up with a gaslighting alcoholic parent so I'm absolutely terrified of being imperfect and people judging hating me for it. I think my most distinctive feature is that I'm very nurturing and love taking care of others. Also, I have absolutely no impulse control when it comes to spending money - I see something I want, I'm having it no questions asked.

My likes:

Waa I kinda said it already didn't I 😅😂 walks, exploring, shopping (not clothes though; give me a book/stationary store or tiger or a quaint little shop or crystal shop etc. and I will not leave for half the day), writing, arts and crafts, reading. I also LOVE discussing things with people, especially philosophy stuff. I actually study neuroscience at university atm so I also absolutely love science especially biology - I love theorizing and being able to bounce ideas around with another person.

And yes, I am a thirsty, kinky mofo - I'd be grateful for sfw and nsfw.

Thank you! Hope you have a wonderful day 💕

So I really hesitated between Leonardo and Arthur, but I finally decided to match you up with Arthur.

General SFW :

- Arthur would probably find you endearing right from the start. He’d probably tease you for being innocent (his words, not mine). However he wouldn’t be able to push his worries away concerning your safety, considering the fact you just jumped in a house full of vampires... But unlike in the game I don’t see him actually trying to push you away or scare you, he’d tease you a lot, of course (come on, this is Arthur) but he already has a soft spot for you and doing anything which could scare you would be a no.

- Instead he’d probably hang around you and try to spend time with you to make sure nothing came your way. Although he wouldn’t admit that and would cover it up by teasing you some more and playing around, being his usual flirt.

- But the more he’d get to know you the more his affection and interest for you would grow. There is so much more to you than just an artistic and cute girl. You are in fact, a true whirlwind ! Both responsible, smart and adventurous, both nurturing and hardworking... And what’s more, you like to read and write ! Then he also finds your curiosity really attractive, he is himself very curious and adventurous.

- You two would spend hours debating about whatever subject came to mind, Leonardo sometimes barging in and joining the conversation. Although in these moments Arthur would probably feel insecure as Leonardo, having lived longer than him would probably be more knowledgeable on certain subjects. You’d probably have to reassure him afterwards and wipe this cute pout off of his lips.

- He’d love listening to you as you talk about your new work in progress or the latest book you read, or pretty much anything you had going on. And I can imagine the two of you spending late nights cuddling in his bed and one of you reading aloud to the other as you both wait for sleep to take you down.

- He’d love to go shopping with you during one of your many outings. You two would have so much fun going from one shop to the other and looking at all the different articles and trinkets.

- Considering his own experience with crippling depression and healthcare he’d be the best at comforting and supporting you on hard days, weeks or however long it lasted. He wouldn’t leave your side, ready to listen, cuddle or do whatever you want. He’d make it a point for you that perfection is boring and unachievable anyways. That he loves you because you are human, and thus have flaws. And that it is normal. He’d make a list of his own flaws in a humorous way for you both to laugh about it and for you to know that it is okay to be imperfect.

- However keep in mind that he two has some issues and as mentioned previously he can get really insecure too. I see him being a bit distant on some days but he’ll always come back into your arms in the end and talk about whatever has been bothering him. You’d both be very considerate and supportive of each other, sticking together through thick and thin. Arthur is also quite lonely and having been a war doctor he has seen his fair share of horrible things. But when with you he can forget these memories and enjoy the beauty the world has to offer.

- You’d be one of the few people to whom he opens up. You, lucky girl.

Scenario :

You sat in Arthur’s room, the two of you writing on his desk. Your eyes scanned over his concentrated features. A light frown adorning his brows, lips pressed together and glasses perched on his well sculpted nose.

Your attention then fleeted to the lines written in your notebook, scrutinising every word, conflict rising in your chest. You picked up your pen, ready to make some modifications to your writing. Just like you had done a few seconds before, three times.

However the dark haired male beside you had other plans as he stretched and groaned, sending you a playful grin.

“Are we done, Luv ?” He voiced, leaning in to take a peek at your work. This didn’t go well with you as you impulsively hid the paper.

Arthur’s eyes widened, grin fading at the sight of your conflicted expression. He immediately knew what was going on. He could read you like an open book after all.

A flicker of sadness passed through those blue eyes and his heart clenched in his chest. He let out a sigh, looking intently at you, any trace of his usual playfulness gone.

“Luv, I don’t know what you wrote, okay ? But what I know is that you put all your heart into these lines and already edited them four times in the last five minutes.” He held your gaze, aching at the thought of what may be going on inside your head.

Your lips quivered, “But... You’re such an amazing writer... When all I can come up with are some flawed stories and flawed lines and-” Your voice trembled by now, tears on the brink of falling.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect on the first try. Nor can it be perfect, for perfection doesn’t exist. It is not human.” He explained, voice soft and tender as he leaned into you. “And I can assure you that my writing is far from perfect, Luv. But this is also what makes it so unique and authentic.” He grabbed his papers, placing them in front of you and reading over the lines he had written.

“Look. There, this is one imperfect line, don’t you think ?”

You read over his shoulder.

‘The walkers walked along the streets.’

You couldn’t repress a small chuckle, a hand covering your lips to stifle your amusement. Arthur only sent you a joyful smile, warmth flooding his system at the sight of your smile.

“See ? No one is perfect. And we all make mistakes.” He reassured, eyes swarming with his love for you. He gently took your hands in his own, cradling them glass.

“And remember, I fell in love with you. The whole you. Your qualities and your flaws which all make you the wholesome person you are.” With these words his soft kiss pressed against your brow, the intensity and honesty of his words pouring into your cracks like sweet honey to fix your insecurities.

Song :

Be my Baby, The Ronettes

NSFW :

- It is no secret that Arthur is good with his mouth, in more ways than one. Would it be to dirty talk the soul out of you or to eat you out, he is skilled both ways.

- Speaking of eating you out, his favourite place on earth is probably between your legs. He could spend hours there, teasing you, enjoying and rejoicing in the way your body quivers and shivers in his hold, how your head rolls back and eyes close with his ministrations, with every lick of his tongue on your sensitive bud.

- He is also very skilled with his fingers and loves fingering you.

- Arthur is also a huge tease. And I can’t stress this enough, he will come up to you in the middle of the hallway as you’re dusting the shelves to whisper the dirtiest of things in your ear. He just loves how a deep blush creeps onto your cheeks and how flustered you become.

- I can see him being into role play too, you as his assistant and him as the detective.

- Wear a maid outfit to clean his room ? The guy is dead and crumbling at your feet.

- Arthur can both be passionate and serious or playful and a tease. Depends on the mood and circumstances.

- Not very surprising but he has a very high sex drive and can’t get enough of you. If he could, he’d spend his life with you in his bed, under the covers. He is also very energetic and has stamina.

- He is a switch, can both be a dominant tease and a lovesick puppy eager to please you.

There, I hope you enjoyed it ! I had lots of fun doing it and may have gotten a bit carried away...

This is my first match up ever so I am really sorry if it is a bit clumsy. You really seem like a sweetheart and I truly hope this gave you some serotonin !

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp arthur #matchups #ikevamp match

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the-crows-typist · 4 years

Note

lemilia-san!! could i request a jamil x reader ficlet with the word “secure” please? thank you 🥺🥺

The Possibilities are Endless

“You're the strongest person I know.”

Quiet, calm, calculated, those were the words used to describe the vice dorm leader of the Scarabia dorm: Jamil Viper. He knew the exact time to act on a task, how to do it, and how to execute it perfectly. Some theorized that it was trained into him by being the ward of the Al-asim’s heir Kalim for many years but in reality, Jamil was just good at noticing things.

That’s why when the prefect of the Ramshackle dorm didn’t come in for a few days, he was one of the first people to notice it but he never made a move. It was too early, perhaps they just had the flu.

Three days later and Jamil noticed the familiar back of the prefect present from behind. They seemed healthy but...Something wasn’t right. He looked back to the board where Divus Crewel was writing important notes. “The heart of a magician often, if not always, affects the quality of magic.” He explained as he drew a caricature of a heart. “A heart struck with fear or anger can or may cause the quality of magic to be sporadic or out of control which, as a result, can cause a sudden increase of blot on your magical pen. A heart struck with sadness or pain often produces a bad quality and more energy is spent to try and stabilize it, be mindful that too much spent magic coupled with negative emotions can induce a state of overblot. That is why, my dear puppies, you must always maintain a levelled head.” His crop tapped his gloved hand and Jamil could feel the room become silent as the students heeded his warnings.

“Do not let your emotions overtake your magic. It will lead to consequences that are not easily reversed.”

The prefect was the last person out of the room that day with Crewel telling them to stay back and to explain their absences. Jamil stayed out of sight but within range to hear their conversation, he felt like his senior Rook but justified that his ‘spying’ was for the betterment of someone he had respect for.

“You’ve missed a week’s worth of school.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Is that all you have to say for you falling behind by one week?” Crewel’s voice was void of his disappointment, Jamil observed, it was as if he was concerned for them. “One or two days, I understand but an entire week can throw you off. You and I both know that repeating a year is not easy.”

The prefect remained silent, their hands on their sides and their eyes never looking at the disappointed but concerned teacher. “Tell me what’s wrong. What happened?”

Jamil couldn’t see them stiffen under Crewel’s gaze, the bout of hesitance that washed over them the moment he asked. They couldn’t answer. “It’s personal, professor...It wouldn’t count as an excuse for my absences.” Fidgety, the prefect’s body hunched over and Divus had no other choice to but to send them away.

“I will be assigning you additional worksheets for you to answer so you can catch up. See to it that you have it finished by Friday.” There lied the voice of concern that a guardian would have for their child. Jamil leaned back against the wall as the prefect said their thanks and walked out of the room. Back hunched, eyes drooped, lips tight.

“Didn’t go so well, did it?” He asked, walking with them down the hall and to the cafeteria. “No.” Their voice was soft and quivering like a bird in a winter storm, begging for warmth in the onslaught of the frigid winds that howled through the white backdrop. Jamil noticed the sad gleam in their eyes.

It’s too early to act now.

“Come eat lunch with me.” He said with a smile gracing his lips. One that was disarming and oozing of kindness and understanding; a smile that someone could trust. “You look like you could use some company.”

Kalim was more than happy to accept a few new people to join him for lunch. The food he had smelled good and was cooked all by Jamil himself. “Jamil is a great cook, there’s no doubt about it.” A steamed bun was passed the prefect’s way. “Dig in, you can as much as you like.”

The prefect didn’t have much an appetite but ate the bun little by little; the seasoned meat coated their tongue and filled their senses. Jamil’s cooking was indeed good and slowly, they were starting to feel better.

Jamil caught the small smile on their lips and all he felt was relief.

“Jamil, can I ask you something?” The prefect suddenly asked, looking up from the worksheet they were working on. The two decided to spend their free time in the library and work on the sheets Crewel gave them, Jamil decided to tag along after Kalim said he’ll be taking extra hours to practice a song.

Jamil figured it was away to grant him alone time, Kalim has been doing that a lot recently.

“What is it?”

They put their pen down; it was a regular fountain pen with the absence of a jewel. Since they weren’t capable of magic, the school opted not to issue them one. The gold lining shined against the yellow light of the school’s library, bathing them in a comfortable atmosphere.

“I just want to know why you’re helping me,” They began.

“Does it matter who I choose to extend my help to?” He asked but soon regretted his tone when he saw the flash of fear pass the eyes of the prefect. Though hours have passed since their scolding, it still lay fresh on their mind.

“No, no, I don’t mean that I don’t appreciate it—“They backtracked, shaking their hands with a scared expression. “It’s just...We aren’t very close. The only time we ever talked was...Well, during that one winter break.”

He did not heed Crewel’s warning; he let his heart get the best of his magic and ended up hurting those he shouldn’t have hurt. He remembers the day his anger had gotten the best of him and he ended doing things that cost him the trust and love of others. He remembers the scared and scornful expressions of his dorm mates, Kalim’s promise to forgive him, and the prefect...Who visited any time they could just to check on him.

Somehow, no matter how short that visits were, it meant more to him than they realized.

Someone from the outside cared about him, not the vice dorm leader he made himself out to be.

“I respect you. It takes a lot of guts to survive four overblots.” Their eyes widened slightly. “You may not see it, prefect, but...You’re one of the strongest people in the school. Take it from me.”

“...You’re always so guarded with you words so to hear something so heartfelt,” A smile adorned their face, one close to tears and of immense gratitude. “It feels so comfortably weird.”

Jamil’s smile widened just a little bit, little by little he was gaining their trust and soon the worksheets were finished just before the portals could close. The two wished each other goodnight, Jamil hoped to see them the next day.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t see them the entire day after that. And just when he felt that he was getting somewhere with them; frustration bubbled within him and anger boiled, not anger at them but at himself. They cared about him but he couldn’t administer the same feeling back.

He was too secure with his feelings.

He waited too long.

He...

“Go to them, Jamil.”

Kalim’s smile opposed Jamil’s turmoil, the dorm leader patted his back. “I can handle myself without you. I’ll be alright. Go.” For all the years he’s been with Kalim, for all the times he was forced to look the other way to guarantee his enjoyment, it was only now that he noticed how vibrant his smile was.

“I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

“I can wait.”

Jamil ran from his post, looking for the person he cared for the most.

He was beginning to doubt if they were inside the school, he opened the gym door with a loud screech and took a step in. The usually well-lit and noisy building was now cool and silent. The ringing silence evoked a suspicious calm.

“Prefect?” He called out, walking further into the gym.

“Jamil..?” A door opened, the prefect’s head peaked out of the storage room. “There you are.” He ran towards them, a hand to their shoulder not long after. “I was so worried about you. Are you alright?”

“Why did you find me?”

His smile was warm and maybe a little offended at the question. “What kind of question is that? I care about you.”

The two camped inside the storage room, the prefect leaning against Jamil’s shoulder. “You’re not as secure as you once were...That smile said it all.” They commented, hands intertwined with his.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No...”

“...”

“It’s just...I just want to go home.” They began, eyes closed and snuggling closer to his shoulder. “I miss it.”

His arm went around their shoulder, squeezing comfortably. “You will.”

Jamil observed the prefect’s face for a moment and soon caught a smile of comfort amidst the tears that slipped out their secure mask. Little by little, their heart began to show and little by little, ink blots in their heart began to fizzle out in the arms of comfort.

#works from the typewriter #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #twst jamil #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #jamil ficlets

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peachyqueenly · 3 years

Text

The Night of Witches

Rated: T

White Lily Cookie goes to The Night of Witches seeking answers... but this time, she is not alone. Will this affect how Fortuna writes the story?

Link to it on AO3 (if you prefer to read it there): https://archiveofourown.org/works/31830856

//Quick note before we start!!

Firstly, I'd like to thank my friends Lou and Cas (if either of you are reading this, mwah mwah thank you for your help besties!!) for helping me proofread!!! Yall are the best and your suggestions definitely helped bring this work to life <3.

Secondly, feel free not to click this link until you either a. reach the part where they appear or b. finish the entire story, but here is a link to the design for an OC (or alt design, if you will) that appears here. I find having a visual reference helps me, so: https://twitter.com/PeachyQueenly/status/1399134036359106567?s=20.

Finally, just in case, a fair warning that there is an injury (someone loses a finger) and a death in here. I don't think I wrote it too graphically, but pay heed to the T rating.

Such a solemn place...

White Lily had told him it was just an evening trip. Nothing specific, just that she had some business to attend to outside the soaring peaks and sweet valleys of the Vanilla Kingdom. She told him not to worry himself to the point of crumbling... and at first, he felt bad for not believing her mournful eyes.

But now? He was glad to have trusted his judgement rather than her words... for once.

The smell of burnt dough and... batter? Like the lingering smell of the occasional Cake Hound attack. That was the first thing that registered in Pure Vanilla’s senses as he got lost in his friend’s frantic mumblings. Then, he noticed how dark and dreary this place was compared to the sunshine that blessed their home. Even in the deep shrubbery that was White Lily’s personal residence, the faint traces of sunlight could be seen in the sprawling vegetation was in no doubt comforting to one such as her.

Here, however? Nothing but darkness and a foreboding sense that something was... off. As if this was a place no mere Cookie was meant to be.

“The Night of Witches...”

The Night of Witches? He recalled hearing about that back in the two’s school days. Though, no Cookie was able to learn much beyond its name. Something about it being too dangerous for them. Or those who devoted themselves to its research leaving one day— like Lily did after her crime, only to never return. Sentencing their knowledge to secrecy forevermore.

That would all change tonight.

Pure Vanilla had situated himself not far from the display of desserts Lily herself hid behind. That’s when he saw... them.

Even more towering than those grand displays were three figures; cloaked in dark robes and large hats not so different from what the practicing wizards he helped train wore. Yet, their hats lacked the crispy charm their waffle cone attire had. Those jagged edges bringing with it an air of uneasiness—unlike the soft breezes that passed through his kingdom’s canyons.

“...AND WOULD YOU LOOK AT THESE! THEY LOOK AMAZING!”

… huh?

“PHEW! I BAKED A TON OF COOKIES!”

Cookies? Were these the celestials that blessed them with life—

“HERE, TRY ONE! YOU’RE GONNA LOVE IT!”

The crack that reverberated through the air could only be matched by one from all those years ago— that glass-shattering sound which marked his last day as a student of the Blueberry Yogurt Academy. Pure Vanilla never imagined there would be a sound more frightening and life changing than that.

… and yet, that crunch of a Cookie—one of their own—being bitten into. It was enough to turn even one as pure and sweet as he into a trembling mess. One hand covering his mouth as to contain the emotions that threatened to spill out as tears and screams.

White Lily, meanwhile, had never been able to maintain her composure well. Even back when she committed her original sin, the immediate regret and despair she felt was evident in her cries. And her inability to escape the doomed school without the help of her dearest friend. So, it came as no surprise that this revelation sent her into a spiral of mutterings, shaking, and... resolve? No, that last one was surprising. Her insistence that Cookies she hardly knew must escape was a sign of just how much stronger their endeavors with the other three had made her.

All her courage was met with were eerie smiles and silence, however. Perhaps these Cookies had already met their fate... doomed to become the next generation of tragedies.

How cruel... how defeating, Vanilla thought. No one deserved this.

“I...”

“--AAAAAH!”

Pure Vanilla’s eyes shot open as he watched the one dearest to him back away in despair, only to then fall backwards. Off the table edge she was so precariously situated upon. From his view, he had little idea what awaited her... but he was not about to let her find out.

He was not about to let her be subjected to more suffering than she already had.

The beholder always on his person could only glare and roll its eye as Vanilla threw it aside and dashed forward. Jumping into action—literally. He pushed himself forward with the swiftness of the wind, and his hand soon met with her own bandaged one.

He pulled Lily back over the table... throwing himself into the maul of the beast in her stead.

Pure Vanilla could only smile as gravity took hold of him. Smile as he always did... even as the rising heat threatened to crumble him before his body even touched that sickly-looking dough below. Regret could come later. For now, relief came out as a few stray tears and a soft whisper, "Thank you, gods—”

…

White Lily only sat there, wide eyed and shaking as she tried to process what on Earthbread just happened. The soft plop of Vanilla’s poor body made her feel the five four stages of grief in just ten seconds. Denial: there was no way this was happening. Anger: why did this have to happen; why did they have to continue to suffer? Bargaining: please, let the hands of time turn back and reverse this. Depression: this was all her fault.

Acceptance was the logical next step, but it was far too early for such a thing.

Her mouth opened and closed as wordless breaths came from trembling lips. Until, finally, she tried uttering one thing, “Vanilla—”

“WHOSE COOKIE IS THAT?”

Lily quickly covered her mouth, both to stifle her frightened voice and hold back the bile she felt bubbling up. Quickly, she took cover behind a stray plate covered in desserts. Such a sight didn’t do much for the sick feeling in her gut, but at least it offered her cover from the stares of those witches and ever-smiling Cookies.

“LOOK, IT FELL INTO THE ULTIMATE DOUGH!”

Fell? Into the Ultimate Dough? She had little to no idea what this Ultimate Dough was, or what it meant for Pure Vanilla. However, that was perhaps more terrifying than at least knowing her friend’s fate.

“”T’IS ALRIGHT! LET’S JUST BAKE IT AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS!”

… Huh?

“YEAH, LET’S BAKE IT!”

No... please—

“LET’S SEE WHAT FORTUNA HAS IN STORE!”

Thick streams of syrup ran down White Lily’s face. She wanted to scream for this all to cease so badly, and she probably would have if she could. This couldn’t be happening. This endless night... their endless suffering had to end eventually, right? From their mad dash into the night following the destruction she caused, to this night they were taught was beyond sacred...

Her endless mistakes couldn’t continue to doom them both, right!?

She could only sit and watch as those cruel hands of theirs began to knead the dough. How each tool so effortlessly and callously did its job: the flattening done by the rolling pin... the cutting of the dough with a tool she remembered gliding her hand across all those years ago. How cold and hollow such metal had been...

Was Pure Vanilla feeling all of this? All the, no doubt, painful experiences such cruel gods wrought?

White Lily became consumed by thoughts such as these. It was all so gut-wrenching to watch, and yet she couldn’t pull her gaze away. It was all so disturbingly mesmerizing.

Soon, many bodies laid across baking sheets normally used as parchment by Cookies. Could one of them be the friend she’d go to hell and back to save? She almost hoped none of them were. As the unfortunate fate of these Cookies was not lost on her.

How could it be? Such a loud crunch left a stain no amount of scrubbing and scratching could rub off.

All those poor, unfortunate souls were then moved over to the oven almost every Cookie escaped from. Perhaps what were once thought as gods had finally grew tired of their endless torture and torment... for now, at least. Soon, they’d move from simply trying their handiwork to...

No, Lily couldn’t bear to remember what The Night of Witches meant for the Cookies who fell victim to it. To witness to it all again.

She needed to get out of here. Fast.

Trembling, White Lily began forcing her old, tired limbs to move. Her staff acting as a cane to support the weight of both her body, which felt on the verge of crumbling, and her new sins. Someone needed to get out of here. Someone needed to tell this story.

Pure Vanilla’s sacrifice couldn’t be for nothing.

… That was when a wave of doom washed over her. This feeling... this... scent. She knew it well. The smell of molasses and pomegranates: Black Magic unique to the priestesshood they visited as young wizards. How... could the witches have gotten a hold of such magic?

And, more importantly, why did magic familiar to her fill Lily with such fear?

She was given no time to theorize. Rather than the sound of breaking glass or crunching of their fragile bodies, the clanking sound of metal vibrated throughout the room. Catching the attention of anyone conscious to it: including the witches and White Lily. The oven doors... they were slammed wide open through no fault of the ones using them. Whatever the answer was to her previous inquires, it was coming. Soon. She could feel it.

A whisper fell from her lips, “What—”

“Ha... HA.... AH HA HA HA HA HA!”

If her magenta irises could widen any more, they did so as that howl echoed around her. A familiar yet twisted laugh. One that was far too sickeningly sweet to mean good fortune.

It can’t be—

“Haaa... who could have known?” relief and a newfound truth came from the reborn Cookie’s lips. A truth as clear as the finest sugar crystals. “Who could have known it was so simple!! All the world’s problems... they all have one simple answer!!”

Another clang of metal reverberated as it slammed the fork-turned-staff against the oven. The loud noise awakening the thing on its aforementioned staff—revealing a burning cyan iris. Such an intense stare could serve as a declaration of its own, but the staff’s commander still offered its own words to those there to bear witness, “Witches... Cookies... truly, none of them have the right, nor should be given the privilege, to define our fate.”

This can’t be real.

“Reborn in a new body... and with a new name. Yes, you lot may call me Black Molasses Cookie—the one true god of this world.”

Pure Vanilla?, White Lily thought: dumbfounded and speechless.

The Witches, meanwhile, gave Black Molasses not a second of respite. Or rather, one Witch didn’t. That one fool amongst them lunged forward in an attempt to grab what was meant to be a tasty treat to them. No doubt to crush and then... eat him. He was just a Cookie, after all. What harm could he truly cause?

“Ha... foolish—”

Two eyes opened and glared at those who should terrify all Cookies: one a familiar cyan to the trembling wallflower, and the other a red that burned a hole straight through her very soul. “As I just said...” he declared “Only I get to define our fates!!”

Seeming to know what its master wanted, a soft glow emanated from the staff before a beam was fired straight towards the Witch. That which wiped one of her elongated fingers clean off. Not a drop spilled from the cauterized wound, but the smell of burning... something made Lily feel even sicker than she already did.

Meanwhile, Black Molasses laughed as his first victim wailed in agony, “HA HA!! That’s what—” his incoming tirade was interrupted when those wails and screams of the Witches turned into a mad dash, “Awww, leaving so soon? Don’t forget—you left your cakes in the oven!!”

Everything happened so fast. Cake beasts arose at the slam of his staff— awakened by its call. Their feral growls and gnawing were not directed at Cookiekind this time, however. Instead, they chased after the fleeing Witches. Bearing their fangs until they found something to sink their fangs into.

White Lily could only stare in horror at what it was.

Pained and agonized screams left the Witch who, just moments ago, had the misfortunate of losing a finger. If only all she lost tonight was that finger. Now, the beasts’ crunching fangs tore at what was left of her withering body and corrupted soul. Until not a single wail was left. And all that filled the air was a metallic scent and the howling of beasts all too pleased with their work.

“Remember this night well, everyone!!! As, tonight, I have shown the world why I am to be the one who divines and rules above all!!”

The Cakes howled louder at such a declaration.

No. No, this couldn’t be... this wasn’t her dearest friend—

“Waah...”

Finally, a much more pleasant sound registered in White Lily’s senses. A child’s voice. How had she not noticed someone so young was but a few steps away from her. Were they cowering there the entire time? Alone? Regardless, she wouldn’t let them be alone for any longer. “Young one, Do you... we need to...” A surprised gasp came as, upon closer inspection, she noticed, “Your arm—!!”

“My, my~ and what do we have here?”

There was no time for her to push the issue. Quickly, White Lily assumed a defensive position in front of the young Cookie. Or... as defensive of a pose she could assume.

Her gaze betrayed her. For the agony and fear behind her eyes served to show just how despaired she truly was. Just how much she looked at Black Molasses and knew one thing: this was all her fault. Whatever happened next could’ve been prevented if it weren’t for her twisted, curious mind. White Lily had no right to convince him otherwise, and yet she persisted, “Vanilla, I—”

“Ah, you still see that old fool in me, do you now?” not a single ounce of respect was given to what Black Molasses considered a mere fragment of his past, “Tell me, dearest Lillia.” he jeered, “You saw the same thing we all saw. You, me, and even that child... yet you look on at my divine judgement in fear. Why?”

“I...”

He sighed. “Perhaps you consider my methods too cruel? Too beneath Cookies meant to help others?” with every word used to poke at her resolve, he took a step closer to both Lily and the child she kept guard over—blue flames rising and dancing from the back of his gown, “And what of you, young one? What do you think of this night Cookies are told is blessed and holy?”

“Leave them out of--”

“Black... Molasses Cookie...?”

“There, there. I hear you, child.” with a flick of his staff, White Lily was hoisted into the air and thrown to the side like a toy who had long outlived its value. A helpless yelp punctuated the thud that followed. Black Molasses didn’t seem to mind, though. Instead, his focus shifted towards the kid, “You who lost your arm— no doubt to those infernal Witches— understands the need for the world to be rebuilt, yes?”

The child nodded, “Hm... I guess... yes.”

“Then follow me.” A gentle smile accompanied his invitation. “I can not only provide that which you need, but I can also show you a better world. One built in my image... I need but your name and devotion.”

“... Red... Velvet Cookie.” the young one responded. The simple act of sharing his name serving as an allegiance to this new Cookie’s vision.

“I see, Red Velvet...” Black Molasses mused as his hand met with the velvet-soft locks of Red Velvet’s hair. Then, his attention turned back towards Lily, “And as for you~”

The previous impact had left White Lily rather shaken and dazed, on the border of consciousness and unconsciousness. Really, it was surprising she wasn’t out like a light by now. What with the exhaustion that came with tonight’s events and the thud she had experienced earlier.

“Still awake, are we?” a crooked smile, and then Black Molasses held her chin in his hand. Directing what little of an attention span she had left towards him. Only him, “Consider my mercy, in spite of your waywardness, a blessing.” he leaned in close, crooning into her ear “I have great plans regarding you. For now, have sweet dreams... then, warn the world of my name.”

Black Molasses then let Lily’s head drop back down before turning his back to her. Leading Red Velvet away from his disciple with some remaining doubts and back towards the oven. They had a great deal of baking to do, after all. Plenty of baking... especially of one particular soul who deserved the ultimate payback.

“... not that any such warning will stop me, of course.”

And with that, White Lily slipped into unconsciousness. That sickeningly sweet laughter lingering in the air as she hoped this was all just one bad dream...

//Hello!! Peach (Katie) here!!!! I'd like to thank you for reading my work-- it means a lot to me that anyone would be willing to check out my writing. Trying to figure out both White Lily's internal conflicts, and how Black Molasses would differ from Dark Enchantress, was a lot of fun. I definitely want to revisit this AU both in writing and drawing over time!!

If you would be interested in anything else I do (as I'm primarily an illustrator), check me out on Twitter @peachyqueenly, A03 @Peach_KT, and instagram @peach_kt. Thank you so much again, and I look forward to bringing everyone my next creation.

Quick credit to Cookie Run Kingdom for some of the lines-- as some were remained unchanged or slightly edited to fit the scene.

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #white lily cookie #pure vanilla cookie #cookie run oc #black molasses cookie #red velvet cookie

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grayintogreen · 3 years

Text

TIME FOR TABAXIGATE 2021!!

I don’t usually theorize because I know full well you CANT on this show. I try to stick to analysis and things based on my emotional input on how I, personally, engage with D&D which is almost to the letter how the cast engages with it, and how that might affect some mechanical designs like say, picking a character back up with ten levels you didn’t give them.

THAT SAID, I love Cree so let’s talk about her.

I’m getting the distinct impression that Cree is not happy with literally fucking anyone right now. Lucien is being a twat, the Mighty Nein killed her friends, and she’s probably feeling a little like a lackey (though hey nice that the Somnovem call her “his second” and nothing vaguely insulting that’s kinda cool #CognouzaQueenCree2k21). Also she only has two red eyes and Beau and Caleb have three so what does THAT mean???

anyway. Point is- she mad.

but can we get a dialogue out of her.

ima be honest, that is gonna be in Cad’s court. He’s pushing for allies and he is the only person in the entire party that Cree has ever reacted favorably towards except when she got enthusiastic about her religion that one time and Lucien had to tell her to pipe down. And that “favorable reaction“ was literally like “what if we cast harm at the same time on a dragon and we were both furry clerics.” Fjord is our diplomat but unfortunately I don’t think he's in the mood to negotiate and also Cree watched him decapitate one of her unconscious friends and if Matt doesn’t impose any persuasion check disadvantages on Fjord for that, he’s nicer than I would be. But I am very fierce in my determination to see through the eyes of our fucked up TombTaker posse, so maybe I’m harsh. Matt wrote those jerks as “antiheroes of another story” and I live for it.

Anyway.... so assuming someone can get the cleric kitty to not murder them in sight, can we get her to turn?

.... probably not.

As much as I love the idea of Cree turning on him because she’s enraged, I don’t think she’s going to do it unless it means she’s staging a double cross, which she deserves. Slay queen. You’re the brains of this operation and everyone knows it. So if she does side with the Nein and she doesn’t destroy her crest immediately, that girl is PLANNING SOMETHING.

However, there are some good story and mechanic reasons why she would decide to abandon Lucien that might outweigh the simple objective fact that she DOES NOT LIKE THESE PEOPLE AND WORSHIPS THE SOMNOVEM/LUCIEN.

One: The Somnovem have come to her for aid as well and planted some doubts in her head. More doubts. She’s full of doubts.

Two: She’s more angry at Lucien now than she hates the Mighty Nein.

Three: Pity cleric??? It’s not gonna bring back their missing spells but having someone who probably won’t go into the fray (unless Matt is really feeling frisky with how many party NPCS he’s running) and doesn’t have to be conservative with their spells to heal everyone up might be helpful. Once the group derails Lucien’s life, they’ll be able to rest and the magic users are half fucked against Lucien anyway.

All in all, i do hope they can get her to talk, because one of her defining character traits is that she is actually very excitable and talks a lot more than she should when you can get her in a decent mood. And I WANT THE CAT LORE MATTHEW. PLEASE.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #Cree

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

Photo

Next Cinderella AU part ahoy!

Conical hats were actually considered very fashionable during the Middle Ages and the early Renaissance. What’s fascinating, however, is how they evolved into two very distinct and oddly opposing styles of hat: the stereotypical “Pilgrim” hat and the pointed hat that witches are generally depicted wearing! Around the turn of the 17th century, the most stylish variation of black conical hat was called the capotain, which is a cone, but with a rounded top -- the hat McGonagall wears in that top sketch is one of these types of hats (her dress is based on this design, which also features a shorter version of the capotain). The hats were originally fashionable among both men and women, but over time, one group of women that was most associated with wearing them were Quakers, a branch of Christianity that broke away from the Church of England and advocated quite liberated views for the era, such as the abolition of slavery, women’s rights, and a refusal to involve themselves in war. They also passionately believed that one didn’t have to attend church in order to be close to God and that one could practice one’s faith out in the world by living and dressing modestly and being active in charity work. (To learn more about the history of how the conical hat evolved into our modern image of “the witch hat,” check out this awesome fashion history video on the subject.) As one can expect, Quakers and Quaker women in particular were not well-taken-to by a lot of European society, especially by the religious movement on the opposite site of the political scale in Britain, the uber-conservative, Bible-purist Puritans. Many of these same Puritan-types got very involved in hunting witches both in Europe and in the Americas (the Salem Witch Trials are a perfect example). But yes...if one looks up pictures of historical clothing for Puritan men and/or “the Pilgrims” (A.K.A. the group of Americans that colonized Plymouth, who were Puritans), they very often wore a variation of the capotain! Although it’s been theorized by historians that the capotains worn by Quaker women ended up being associated with sin and therefore witchcraft, similar hats were also worn by the men who persecuted them. The hats were worn by both sides -- victim and accuser -- and yet most of us today look at the capotain and immediately think “witch” exclusively. Talk about irony.

Greensleeves is often ascribed as being commissioned by King Henry VIII for his second wife, Anne Boleyn (even Six the Musical references this)...but it actually was written in the later half of the 16th century, when Anne’s daughter Elizabeth I was Queen. So yeah, that’s sadly just an old wives tale. But it is a lovely song! The melody for Greensleeves has been remarkably long-lasting, even being rewritten as multiple Christmas songs over the centuries, including the still popular What Child is This?, which was written in 1865.

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you all enjoy!

x~x~x~x

Carewyn very quickly threw on her mother’s green-sleeved yellow dress and as many warm wool petticoats as she could before fetching her white horse from the palace stable. She rode up through the gate in exactly twenty-five minutes, to find Orion on his black mare waiting for her. Carewyn was ready to ask Orion if everything was all right, but almost as soon as they’d left the perimeter of the gate, Orion urged his horse into a fast gallop.

“Come, my lady,” he cried over his shoulder, “let us chase that horizon!”

Carewyn had to send her horse charging forward in its own gallop to catch up with him. They rode right through the market and then out of the capitol altogether -- they avoided the road that led toward the Cromwell estate, dashing eastward. They weaved in and out of the rolling snow-capped hills, riding beside and around each other. The freedom of riding alone was enough to bring some life back into Orion’s cheeks, and Carewyn despite herself soon found herself smiling.

When they came to a stop at the top of a hill close to the northern border, Orion looked out over the edge with a handsome, endless gleam in his eye, like that of a sailor looking out to sea. Carewyn once again prepared to ask Orion if he was all right...but once again, Orion dodged the question.

“Do you see that eagle, overhead?” asked Orion.

Carewyn looked up. She did -- it was a truly handsome golden eagle, gliding in a circle through the air over their heads.

“I’ve seen eagles just like that nearly every day, up and down the border,” said Orion. “Shall we see if we can ride fast enough to overtake it in flight? Could we take flight as birds do, without ever spreading wings?”

“Orion...”

Carewyn brought a hand gently down on his arm.

“I know there’s something wrong,” she whispered.

Orion looked at her, his expression losing most of its levity and becoming much blanker and more inscrutable again.

“I understand if you can’t tell me,” she insisted softly. Her blue eyes rested on her own hand on his arm rather than his face -- with the intense concern she felt, she didn’t dare expose them further by looking straight into his eyes. “And I truly don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me anything you don’t want to. Your secrets are your own, and I know you have a reason for them.”

Just as I have mine.

“I only...I can tell you’re running from something...maybe even the thing you’ve being running from, every time you’ve come to see me, all these weeks...and I don’t know what to do, to protect you from what you’re so afraid of. Please...tell me what I can do.”

Orion’s black eyes trailed over Carewyn’s face, rippling with many tiny flickers of emotion that were hard to properly identify -- pain? Affection? Anxiety? Evasiveness? Shame? Longing? Who knew?

At last the Prince of Florence brought a hand out to gingerly rest on top of Carewyn’s on his arm.

“Chase that eagle with me,” he said softly.

Carewyn looked up at Orion and then at the eagle overhead as it soared off toward the nearby woods. Then she gave him a small, sad smile and nodded.

“...All right.”

Dislodging herself from Orion, Carewyn steadied her grip on her horse’s reins and flicked them to make it gallop toward the woods.

“Well, come on, then!” she called over her shoulder with the strongest smile she could. “T’would be a shame if I out-rode you in a challenge you set yourself!”

Orion’s face broke out into a brighter, fond smile and he pursued her.

The two rode their horses down the hill and into the trees. Racing side by side, overtaking each other in their strides and then catching up again -- all while Orion smiled so fully and handsomely, and looked at her with such blazing midnight-black eyes -- was a joy that Carewyn had trouble putting into proper words. His expression was full of such silent, and yet unbridled joy -- free, in every sense of the word.

“You should be allowed to feel like that more often,” Orion’s words returned to her. “Free.”

You should be allowed to feel like that too, Orion, thought Carewyn. You deserve to feel this free all the time.

The two rode with speed until they’d finally lost sight of the beautiful golden eagle. Slowing their horses into a calmer trot, they then journeyed through the trees, enjoying the peaceful serenity of the chirping birds and the pools of sunlight scattered across the muddy, snow-dusted ground.

“I’ve never been out this far before,” Carewyn confessed, her almond-shaped blue eyes trailing over the interlaced branches overhead.

Orion looked at her out the side of his eye. “...This close to the border, you mean?”

“Yes.”

Carewyn caught a strange scent in the distance -- something vaguely like the fires she’d tend to back at the castle and the Cromwell estate.

“...Something’s burning...”

Orion nodded solemnly. “Bonfires. The Royaumanian and Florentine camps aren’t far from here.”

Carewyn looked at Orion, slightly startled. His gaze had wandered northward, but it was clear his mind was far from the trees his eyes were idly resting on.

“We’re near the war front?” asked Carewyn softly.

“Yes...” Orion glanced her out the side of his eye. “...Are you frightened?”

“No,” said Carewyn.

She looked through the trees in the direction Orion had been facing.

Jacob could be over there right now, she thought to herself. The idea of seeing her brother for the first time in nine years -- of hugging him again and seeing his relieved smile -- it made her feel like her heart was being squeezed.

Orion’s black eyes scanned her longing, but fearless face, before shifting back in the direction of the trees that obscured the path toward the war front.

“The scales are going to shift again, soon,” he whispered. He could feel Carewyn’s eyes on him again. “The two sides have constantly fought for dominance...lashing out ruthlessly and then retaliating, back and forth, until they’re forced to come to a stalemate, just to catch their breath. Then one lashes out again, and the precarious balance is thrown to the winds once more...”

Carewyn’s blue eyes rippled with concern. “Orion...is something bad about to happen, out there?”

Orion closed his eyes. His father claimed he needed him, in order to lead the Florentine army in the two-pronged attack on Royaume...but it wasn’t unlikely that the King might make do and find someone else to fill that role...

“Hopefully not,” he said softly.

Carewyn reached out a hand and took hold of Orion’s wrist. Orion looked down at her hand and then up at her face -- she had trouble looking at him, but he could tell her eyes were rippling with concern. His heart felt like it was suddenly being harshly compressed, just to fit inside of his chest.

You wish to protect me from what I fear...but what I fear, I should wish to protect you from.

The King’s words returned to his mind.

“When you make mistakes, the people you cherish, that you want most desperately to protect, pay the price!”

But how could he hope to protect Carewyn from the War and the cost it would demand? How could he hope to stop it, when his own father unknowingly would be sabotaging his efforts for peace? How could he live with himself, if he had to chain himself to the War the way the King had -- to fight against the Royaumanians he’d met and broken bread with as equals?

Orion took several deep breaths before speaking again.

“...My father wishes me to join him, at the front,” he admitted lowly.

Carewyn looked up, startled. “...Your father’s in the army?”

“Yes,” said Orion. “He’s...a high-ranking officer. He expects that I will follow his example and lead our ranks into battle.”

Carewyn considered Orion for a moment. “...You don’t want to.”

Orion’s eyes darkened significantly. “...I don’t want to.”

When Carewyn didn’t respond, he pressed on.

“My father believes that the War can only be ended through force -- that justice can be only brought about by utterly destroying our enemy. But...I cannot believe that. I grew up on the border between Florence and Royaume. The town I’m from is so close that one could hop easily from one to the other. It caused some tensions, yes...but it also made it so that at first meeting, or even third or fourth, you never knew what side of the divide a person was on. And so I found myself constantly thinking...what is it that truly separates us? Is it morality? Is it values? Humanity? And yet I don’t think either side can boast having any of those things exclusively. It instead all comes back to a mistake made fifty years ago -- a land dispute that ended more violently than it should have. So many people have died, all because of that...and because neither King has decided to be the better man and choose forgiveness over vengeance.”

Orion bowed his head, his eyes closing solemnly.

“...My father asked me to help him lead the army, in an upcoming attack on the enemy forces -- one that he believes could end the War once and for all. But...”

He exhaled quietly through his nose.

“...I couldn’t accept that burden...so I left.”

Carewyn didn’t respond. Orion scanned her face, trying to read her reaction, but it was proving difficult when she wouldn’t look at him.

Does she...disapprove? he couldn’t help but think. She did think he was Royaumanian -- she didn’t understand that he wanted to protect her brother, not prevent him from returning home...but how could he explain that to her, without...?

“I know that the War could end, if my father’s strategy succeeds,” Orion explained, trying to keep his voice level despite the anxiety he felt, “but this is only one strategy of hundreds, all of which have failed. And even if our side was victorious...however many lives I could potentially save by fighting, I would be snuffing out far more. I realize that this is my responsibility alone, and sometimes one must be willing to do what others will not, to reach their goal...but flowers bloom under sunlight and water, not blood. If we could avoid burning a forest to the ground, wouldn’t it then be easier to bring it back to life?”

“Yes...but if someone wants to set a forest ablaze, you have to act if you want to stop them.”

Carewyn’s response was very soft and solemn, but there was no anger or disapproval -- instead, to Orion’s immense relief, it sounded almost encouraging.

“If you believe that Royaume could make peace with Florence, then you need to speak out for it,” she said firmly. “If you see it and believe in it, that’s great...but you need to make others see and believe in it too, if it’s going to really come about. Talk to your father, make him see things as you do -- and if he isn’t able to, then...well, I’ll talk to Andre, and you and he can discuss it together.”

Her lips spread into a gentle smile and she gave his wrist a light squeeze.

“My own family may have profited because of the War, but the people of Royaume, the common man, would celebrate, if peace could come about without further loss. If Florence would also, then that’s a step in the right direction. There’s more than one way to fight for something...all it requires is enough courage to place one’s goal over whatever risks stand in their way.”

Orion stared at Carewyn for a long moment. As he did, the black of his eyes seemed to melt, gaining a warmer, softer light that resembled candlelight rippling in endless, dark water.

“...Carewyn...”

Before he could say anything more, however, there was a loud explosion in the distance. Carewyn’s horse reared back in terror, which in turn spooked Orion’s, and both Carewyn and Orion had to quickly calm their steeds.

“Whoa, whoa,” Carewyn whispered in her horse’s ear, “easy, boy...it’s all right...”

Orion stroked his horse’s mane with a slightly trembling hand, breathing in and out as he tried to steady his heart rate. He then looked at Carewyn with a more serious eye.

“...Perhaps we should make our way back to the valley. It’s not safe here.”

Carewyn looked northward through the trees again. “Do you think your father’s started the attack?”

“No. Coordinated attacks require both strategy and assignments, as well as the element of surprise. I’d say this is a skirmish between younger, less experienced soldiers -- and if so, it’s likely to run farther afield and cause damage outside the designated battlefield.”

Orion could see Carewyn still hesitating. Although there was no fear in her face, she seemed reluctant to leave -- likely thinking of her brother, more than the risk to her own safety...

After a brief flicker of uncertainty, Orion reached out a hand and took hold of Carewyn’s arm not unlike how she’d taken his earlier.

“From everything I’ve heard from you about your brother, I truly cannot see him not doing everything he possibly can, to look out for your well-being...including looking after himself.”

A second smaller explosion in the distance made Orion stiffen slightly, his fingers tightening that bit around Carewyn’s arm.

“...We should move out of harm’s way,” he said as levelly as he could.

Seeing the paleness of Orion’s face, Carewyn relented at once.

“Yes.”

Bringing a hand up onto Orion’s horse’s reins, she directed both of them around so they could start riding back out the way they came.

As they came around a cluster of trees, however, their attention was caught by the sound of the cry of an eagle and many snapping branches. Carewyn’s horse reared back again, just barely dodging a large clump of golden-brown feathers that collided sharply with the ground.

Carewyn once again rushed to soothe her horse. Orion quickly climbed off his horse and bent down to get a better look at what had fallen.

It was a golden eagle, just as brilliant as the one they’d chased into the wood -- perhaps even the same one. It was conscious, but clearly in pain when it tried to return to the air -- its left wing crumpled up against its side and covered in blood and what looked like grayish ash.

Orion’s black eyes narrowed.

“Gunpowder,” he said. “The poor creature’s wing must have been struck by a stray bullet.”

Once she’d successfully soothed her white horse, Carewyn likewise jumped off its back. She dashed over to Orion, hitching up the skirt of her mother’s gown as she went.

“Can you hold him?” she asked.

The eagle gave an angry-sounding cry, baring its sharp talons at both of them, and it tried to hobble away back into the air with its one good wing.

“I don’t think he wants our help,” said Orion.

Undaunted, Carewyn ripped off some fabric from her outer-most petticoat. “Well, he needs it, whether he wants it or not. Can you hold him, please?”

Orion looked at the eagle. Rather than try to grab it, he met the eagle’s eyes and tried not to blink. The eagle looked back at him with a piercing gaze. When Orion extended a hand, the eagle lashed out its talons again -- Orion withdrew, but didn’t flinch.

“Steady,” he said gently.

He waited a moment, keeping eye contact with the bird, and then tried again. This time he was able to move close enough to touch before the eagle lashed out with its claws again.

“Peace,” said Orion patiently. “We mean you no harm, feathered friend.”

Another loud explosion in the distance made both the eagle and Orion flinch.

“That one sounded closer,” said Carewyn, her voice faintly tense but as gentle as she could. “We need to be quick.”

The flames of his childhood home were returning to Orion’s mind despite his best efforts, and he shut them out as best he could, closing his eyes and breathing in and out several times. Once he’d reestablished his focus, Orion opened his eyes again.

The eagle looked from Orion to Carewyn almost critically. Finally, after Orion reached in for a third time, it let the Prince run a gentle hand over its back. Once the bird was calm, Orion then carefully extended its wing so that Carewyn could reach it.

“This will likely hurt him a little,” Carewyn told Orion. “Please hold him still, so he won’t fly away.”

Orion brought a hand around the eagle, which fidgeted and cried out indignantly, but did not claw or snap at them. With Orion holding out its wing, Carewyn was able to reach into its blood-soaked feathers and dislodge the bullet. The eagle gave an angry, pained cry, and Carewyn very quickly set about wrapping up the wound with the white fabric she’d ripped out of her petticoat.

“There,” breathed Carewyn, her red lips spreading into a smile. “That should help...”

The bird looked down at its wing, gingerly folding up against its side as it surveyed her with a very beady eye. With a soft click of her tongue against her teeth, she slowly extended an arm out, holding it very still like a branch.

“Climb on,” she cooed. “That’s it...”

The eagle peered Carewyn over, but after a long moment, it gradually scooted over and leapt up onto her arm. Its talons dug into the sleeve of her dress with strength, and it was heavier than Carewyn expected, but she with some difficulty just barely managed to hoist it up.

“Your talent with animals shines through again,” said Orion with a wry smile, clasping his hands lightly in front of him.

“You weren’t half bad yourself,” Carewyn said amusedly. She brought a hand gently along the eagle’s comb. “You’re a very handsome bird, aren’t you? You poor thing...”

“You there!”

Both Orion and Carewyn looked up in great surprise.

Striding through the woods toward them was a very tall middle-aged woman. She wore a black capotain hat and an old-fashioned black dress with a white ruff around the collar, and her graying brown hair was tied up in an austere looking bun under her hat. Despite her apparent age, her step was strong and her posture as straight as a general’s.

“What are you doing here?” said the woman very sternly.

Carewyn stood a bit uneasily, thanks to the weight of the eagle on her arm, but she nonetheless straightened up, resting a hand on the eagle’s back almost protectively.

“We’re merely out riding, madam,” she said, not impolitely, but still confidently.

The woman peered down at both Orion and Carewyn with an eye almost as critical as the eagle’s had been as she crossed her arms. Her height made it so she towered over both of them with relative ease.

“Well, through your riding, you have trespassed on my land,” she said stiffly. “And it seems you’ve claimed something of mine.”

Her eyes flickered over to the eagle on Carewyn’s arm, taking in the makeshift bandage on its wing. The golden eagle gave a loud shriek -- the woman extended her arm, and it leapt the distance, landing on her arm instead. The older woman did not struggle to hold it up the way Carewyn had.

Carewyn blinked in surprise. “Then...he’s yours?”

“Do you have others, like him?” Orion asked curiously.

The woman peered down at the bird on her arm with a look that was rather like a scolding, but still affectionate mother’s. “No -- he’s one of a kind. All the more reason why I’m pleased to see him safe, after coming so close to the enemy camp.”

The eagle bowed its head, its gaze flickering back over toward Carewyn and Orion. When another cluster of explosions rang out through the air, however, both the bird and Orion straightened up abruptly.

The woman looked northward, and then beckoned Carewyn and Orion after her with her hand.

“Come with me -- with the armies positioned just north of us and a band of Florentine bandits just south, the safest place at present to wait out this skirmish is my home.”

The woman introduced herself as the Baroness Minerva McGonagall. Carewyn felt like the surname was familiar somehow, but she couldn’t quite place it in her memory. Regardless, McGonagall led Carewyn and Orion out through the trees. Only once they crossed the perimeter of the trees and McGonagall gestured toward the valley below did Carewyn and Orion see her country estate. It was odd that they didn’t spot it sooner, for although the valley seemed to cradle the small chateau, it was a rather beautiful and open estate framed by a wrought iron gate. The property itself was made of aged brick and stone with stained glass windows and overgrown with ice-trimmed ivy.

After holding out her arm so that the eagle perched there could jump down on the railing beside the stone stairs that led up to the front door, the Baroness invited Orion and Carewyn inside. As stern as she’d first appeared, she actually was a very kind host -- after Orion and Carewyn’s horses were settled in her stable, she escorted the two into the dining hall, where she served them some rose water and ginger biscuits. Once inside the house, none of them could hear the explosions from the battlefield -- it was as though the walls cancelled out all sounds from outside even though they must’ve been so close.

Seeing that the Baroness had no servants to help her, Carewyn insisted on taking the dishes to the kitchen and washing them, so as to thank the older woman for her hospitality. Despite being reluctant to accept the help at first, McGonagall eventually accepted it, her lips upturned in a rather dewy smile as Carewyn left the dining hall.

“Your riding companion has a very kind heart, Your Highness,” she said, once Carewyn was out of earshot.

Orion’s black eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly.

“...You know me.”

"Naturally,” said McGonagall. “You do very much resemble your grandfather -- and your father as well, I expect.”

“You knew my grandfather?”

“We met once, a very long time ago,” said McGonagall rather curtly. “Your name would also be Cosimo, correct?”

“I am called Orion,” said the Prince, his level voice dusted with the slightest edge. “By both my lady, and otherwise.”

McGonagall’s eyes grew a little smaller. “She comes from the Cromwell family, doesn’t she?”

Orion’s eyes narrowed that little bit more, but he did not reply.

“I suspected it due to her eyes,” said McGonagall, “but with how gentle they were, I wasn’t sure.”

Her eyebrows rose over her narrowed eyes as she leaned forward slightly and rested her elbows on the table.

“You have quite a predicament before you, Orion,” she said dryly, interlacing her fingers beside her chin.

Orion clasped his hands on the table in front of him, considering the Baroness carefully.

“Yet you decided not to approach me about it until Carewyn left the room,” he said levelly. “Is it because you suspected I knew your true identity, and why your house has been so miraculously shielded from the War raging on your doorstep?”

McGonagall peered at Orion over her hands with something like wry amusement. “Florentines are generally more favorable toward magic than Royaumanians. And considering your grandfather shielded my family after my mother accidentally killed the King and we fled across the border...well, it would be in-character for you, especially.”

“And yet you returned to the land that the King of Royaume had died trying to claim?” asked Orion. “Why?”

McGonagall gave a dismissive shrug. “It was our home. Even if we had to cast and recast illusions every day to prevent anyone else from finding it again, that was a cost we were willing to pay. And one I’m still willing to pay today, to protect those who live here.”

McGonagall’s eyes were drawn to the hallway -- a young man with tanned skin and a sharp nose had just paused in the door frame of the dining hall. His arm was in a makeshift sling and wrapped with what looked like bandages made out of petticoat fabric. When Orion turned around, the young man stared him down with just as beady of a look as the golden eagle from before had.

“The skirmish has ended, Baroness,” the man said brusquely.

“I hope you haven’t determined that by casting any more transfiguration spells, my young apprentice,” said McGonagall with a slightly reproachful look.

The apprentice’s nose wrinkled sourly. “No. The explosions have just stopped -- they probably decided it wasn’t worth trying to fire their cannons blindly in the dark.”

“Very well,” said McGonagall. “Orion, you and Carewyn may leave when you wish. Though I would recommend you steer clear of the border. The bandits in these woods are Florentines, so I doubt they will harm you...but I cannot be sure how they would respond to a Royaumanian, especially one related to one of their wealthiest noblemen.”

Orion nodded. “I understand.”

“Make sure you bring her back to the palace safely,” said the apprentice, his eagle-like eyes still rather critical upon Orion. “It’s the least you can do, considering she doesn’t know the extent of the risk she’s taking, interacting with you.”

He swept down the hallway and out of sight, still holding his arm. Orion was a bit surprised that the Baroness’s apprentice knew where Carewyn worked -- but then, he recalled, he’d seen an eagle flying over his and Carewyn’s heads once, while they were walking through the market together, hadn’t he? Might it have been this man then, as well -- as it likely had, every time he’d seen an eagle while crossing the border?

McGonagall looked back at Orion, her expression a bit more solemn. “I understand your rationale behind not telling her of your identity, Orion...but remember -- deception is just like any magical spell. Even the most powerful ones in the world don’t last long.”

Orion bowed his head. “...I know.”

He knew none of this could last. He knew that once Carewyn knew who he was, everything between them would change, whether he wanted it to or not. He did think that Carewyn would understand -- he desperately hoped so -- but even so, it was sad to him, knowing that his happy times with Carewyn were doomed to be so fleeting...

“I just...want to enjoy my time with her as long as I can,” said Orion softly. “However fleeting it might be...even when it is over...at least then I can cherish the memory of those moments forever.”

McGonagall’s face grew a bit gentler, almost sympathetic. "I see...”

Carewyn returned at that moment, wiping her bangs out of her eyes with her arm.

“Orion,” she said, “it looks like the stars have come out.”

Orion looked out the window. The sky was dark with night and shining with stars.

“So they have,” he said with a soft smile. He turned to McGonagall. “Forgive me, Baroness...but might we sit in the valley outside your home for a short while, before we leave?”

McGonagall smiled. “Of course.”

Orion and Carewyn found a grassy spot in the crest of the valley where they could sit and look up at the stars. Upon learning that Carewyn hadn’t ever gone stargazing before, Orion lay back against the grass and pointed out each constellation above them to Carewyn in turn -- the hero Perseus, his enemy the Cetus, and his future wife Andromeda -- -- the divine twins, Castor and Pollux, otherwise known as a pair as Gemini -- and the queen Cassiopeia, which made Carewyn laugh, thinking of her friend, KC. Carewyn loved listening to Orion’s stories: the way he would vividly embellish every detail and go off on philosophical tangents in the middle was oddly endearing. After he told his first tale about Perseus, Carewyn was reminded of the Song of Roland, an epic about a similarly grand hero, and soon Orion would ask her to sing something in response to every story he told, however weak the connection was. When they reached Cassiopeia’s tale, Carewyn sang one of her favorite songs, Greensleeves.

“I have been ready at your hand To grant whatever thou would’st crave; I have waged both life and land, Your love and goodwill for to have.

Greensleeves was all my joy; Greensleeves was my delight; Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but my lady Greensleeves...”

As before, Orion found himself closing his eyes and relishing the feeling of Carewyn’s voice washing over him. At the end of this song in particular, however, when he opened his eyes, he found himself chuckling softly.

Carewyn raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Orion’s black eyes were sparkling like two miniature night skies as they ran over Carewyn sitting just below him. “It’s a lovely song, as always...but I have not ever seen my ‘star twin,’ so to speak, wearing green -- only ever black and blue. You, however...”

He took her hand so that he could extend her arm out like they were dancing, showing off the olive green sleeves of her dress.

“So it seems you are ‘my lady Greensleeves,’” said Orion with a wry smile.

“Oh, stop it,” Carewyn huffed, her cheeks burning as she withdrew her hand.

Orion laughed fully. It was the first time Carewyn had ever heard him laugh so openly before -- it was a soft sound in the back of his throat, like a chuckle, and yet so much brighter and warmer. Despite herself, Carewyn couldn’t fight back a full smile of her own. Her shoulder brushed up against Orion’s as she reclined back onto the grass, her body tilting slightly toward him as she looked up at the sky.

“...There’s a constellation called Orion, isn’t there?”

Orion smiled and traced the stars of the constellation with his finger. “Just there. Do you see his chest? And there’s his bow.”

“I see it!” said Carewyn excitedly. “His arm is arched back, right?”

“Yes -- he’s holding a club in his other hand. He was a great hunter, you see -- the greatest hunter, they say, aside from Artemis, Goddess of the Moon and the Hunt. Some say that he hunted alongside her. Others say she was his one and only love...and that she, likewise, never loved any other man, in all her days.”

When Carewyn didn’t respond, Orion looked down at her. She was considering the constellation very carefully, looking oddly deep in thought.

Orion tilted his head to look better at her face. “Your eyes resemble a dark pool.”

Carewyn looked up, startled.

“They’re so deep and mysterious, I hardly know what is within them,” said Orion. “Yet I would dearly like to know, if you were willing to share their contents.”

Carewyn’s eyes drifted back up to the sky uncomfortably.

“It’s just...I’m realizing that I don’t even know if Orion is your real name,” she murmured. “You said I could call you it...you did not say it was your name.”

Orion’s face became grimmer. His hands clasped over his chest and he too looked back up at the sky.

“...It’s not the name I was born with,” he admitted. “I chose the name myself, when I was young.”

The memory of the older boys at the workhouse shoving him, piling extra work on him, and mockingly bowing whenever he walked by rippled over his mind.

“Clear the floor for the Prince!”

“Why thank you, Prince Cosimo -- you’re too kind!”

“Does the mud add flavor, your Royal Highness?”

“When I was at the workhouse, my name...antagonized the other boys. So, to try to preempt the reactions, I started avoiding telling anyone my name. I would dread anyone ever asking.”

“Like when I asked you?” whispered Carewyn. Even though her eyes were averted, she was clearly very ashamed and upset.

Orion leaned against her slightly, offering her a gentle, reassuring expression. “No, Carewyn. I dreaded it when I had no answer I could give at all. It made me anxious...made me feel like I didn’t know who I was supposed to be...made it difficult for me to interact with much of anyone at all.”

He closed his eyes.

“But...after hearing the tale of the great hunter whose skill put him on the same level as a goddess...I decided that was who I’d be. I’d chase my dreams with just as much single-minded focus -- be just as free and strong of a man, by fighting the monster inside of myself.”

Carewyn looked up at Orion, her eyes rippling with sadness. “The monster inside of yourself?”

“Mm,” said Orion. “Mine is a frenetic beast. It makes it hard for me to think, act, or even breathe, when it’s particularly intense. It makes me question absolutely everything, including myself. It shouts so many things in my ears so loudly that I can’t move or react properly, and I have to break away from everything and everyone, just to silence it. Sometimes it even brings back bad memories that make the experience even worse.”

Carewyn was once again avoiding his eye, but it was largely because she was having trouble keeping her face stoic.

“...It’s terrible, when you feel like you can’t do anything,” she said lowly.

Orion didn’t speak. He wanted her to feel comfortable enough to continue -- after a silence, she finally pressed on.

“When Jacob first went off to War...I felt so helpless. So...alone. And worse...I felt like that’s how I should be. Like I should be alone, and empty, and cold, and in pain, when Jacob was off at War suffering, while I’m stuck here.”

Her eyes darkened.

“There are times when...I think I still should be. Sometimes...well, it’s all the time.”

She closed her eyes, exhaled heavily through her nose, and then looked up at Orion with a firmer expression.

“...But I know I can’t afford to sit around and feel sorry for myself -- not when I need to be strong, for Jacob’s sake. So I don’t.”

Orion’s black eyes softened visibly, rippling with empathy. “No...you certainly don’t.”

He paused. His eyes ran over Carewyn’s face, trailing through her hair hesitantly.

“Carewyn...” he said at last, very softly, “may I...?”

He swallowed.

“...May I rest my head, on top of yours?”

Carewyn’s face broke into a very sweet, tender smile.

“Of course,” she murmured.

Orion shifted over and, very tentatively, leaned back against the grass so that Carewyn’s head rested in the crook of his neck and his cheek rested against the top of her head. He closed his eyes -- she felt so warm...

“I...realize that the beasts inside of us are ours alone to face,” said Orion softly, “but...should you need a hunter to help you beat yours back...I will be here.”

Carewyn’s blue eyes rippled with emotion as she stared up at Orion’s face. Her red lips slowly turned up in a smile that was full of pain, and yet also fuller still of love.

“And I will always help you fight yours,” she whispered. “If you need me...I will fight for you.”

Orion’s expression cleared, losing all tension as a smile pricked at the corners of his lips. He breathed deeply, his heart slowing to a wonderful peaceful beat as he took in the smell of her hair. Carewyn watched his serene, handsome face, and she found herself moving into him that bit more, just to get a better view. For that moment, it felt like the whole world outside wasn’t there -- that the War and the palace and the Cromwell clan and everything she was and wasn’t didn’t even exist...and in that moment, Carewyn realized...

If she was ever truly free, she would want to love the man called Orion with all of her heart.

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birthdaysentiment · 4 years

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The music in wtFOCK season 3 - Song #21

Woensdag 16.36 // "Ocean Eyes" - Billie Eilish

Overall, season 3 was a roller-coaster of emotions and so where the different episodes and sometimes even the individual clips. With Robbe's story I went through every emotion possible, because I never knew what to except when a clip dropped. wtFOCK managed to create a season, where I knew nothing about what was going to happen, even though I knew the storyline by heart. After what happened in episode 4, the chances of getting a cuddle-clip didn't look that good, at some point I believed that it would never happen, so you can imagine how excited I was when the clip dropped, because that could only mean one thing, it was going to happen. And once again I didn't know what to except, and once again wtFOCK took me by surprise.

At this point, episode 5 had been another trip through various emotions, and it's crazy to think of all the things that actually happened in a couple of days. The episode started out with Robbe being at his lowest after not being able to have sex with Noor, but after a long-needed conversation with Milan, Robbe started to realize what had happen, what he had done, and he finally came to the realization that he couldn't pretend anymore. So, he broke up with Noor and then he finally found his way back to Sander the following day, where we got one of the best original clips of the season. It finally seemed like everything was going in the right direction.

I've never smiled so much as I did when I watched this clip, and there is so many reasons for that, so fair warning this is going to be a long one. The cuddle-clip has always been one of my favorites in all the universes, and wtFOCK's version of it was no exception. I loved the fact that we finally got a chance to see Robbe and Sander spending some time together alone, where they could just enjoy each other and I know this isn't the first time they're alone, but it feels different somehow.

Take the supermarket-clip for example, that was their first hang out and already back then you could feel the connection between them. But in this clip, that connection just felt so much more intense, because at that point, they had admitted their feelings to each other, they knew that they wanted to be together. This clip always makes me realize, how deeply in love Robbe and Sander actually was.

And if the clip wasn't perfect enough, then the choice of music adds to the level of perfection. I think Billie Eilish is the artist, who's songs wtFOCK has used the most, and there's definitely a reason for that. Her songs are so versatile, and fits almost every situation, where this song really captures the whole essence of the clip: comfort, love, attraction, intimacy, intensity and I could keep on going. If the song had been different, if it hadn't been the sweet and calming voice with the simple and soothing melody in the background, then I think the clip would have turned out very differently.

After the Chernobyl-clip I didn't think Robbe and Sander could look more in love, but I was wrong. This clip is filled with so much love, and it's crazy to think that they've only known each other for a couple of weeks, because they already look at each other with a huge amount of admiration and affection. They're so tender with one another, but the air between them is also packed with a lot of passion and lust.

For me, I was particular surprised to see Robbe take so much initiative, because it was different from what we had seen him do before, or at least it was a change to see him actually liking it himself. For example, with Noor, Robbe was pretending, trying to do too much, while he didn't enjoy any of it and it never felt real, but with Sander it was different. It's obvious to see how attracted Robbe is to Sander, how much he wants to be with him, to touch him, kiss him and just feel him next to himself. It makes me so happy, because it just shows how comfortable Robbe is when he's true to the person that he is, and his feelings.

I'm actually so proud of Robbe, because he finally let himself feel, he finally admitted to himself what he wants, and in this clip, he just goes for it. He takes initiative, he kisses Sander, without excepting to get anything back in return, he strokes his hair, because Robbe loves the feeling of Sander's soft hair, and he just looks at him with so much love and joy, that it almost fills up the whole room. This is a new side to Robbe, that we haven't seen before, and I must say, Robbe-in-love is my absolute favorite Robbe.

But this clip also gave us some new information, something made sense in terms of what had happened earlier on in the season, and some details just made us theorize even more. For example, Sander's drawing of Robbe and his idea for it, because at that point, who would have thought that it would actually become reality, that Sander would paint that drawing of Robbe on a huge mural? I love that scene, because by looking at Sander, you can see how his eyes just lights up by the thought of it; Robbe combined with art, his favorite combination.

I love how Robbe and Sander fool around, not only kissing and clinging to each other, but also how they're teasing one another, learning new things, taking pictures, talking, touching and so on. They really seem like a couple, who has been together for an eternity, because their chemistry is just out of this world.

Their conversation about parallel universes, has so much meaning attached to it, because it actually became reality. Everything about this scene is so special, from the aesthetic pleasing pictures, where the light makes everything seem warmer and more comforting, to the beautiful song in the background, that highlights every emotion in the room. The song has different meanings, not just the beauty of a pair of ocean eyes, but also the feelings and emotions that gets generated when you look into them. Eyes can be so memorizing, that you never want to leave them, because by looking into a pair of them, you realize how much you want the person, which they belong to. When Robbe and Sander look into each other's eyes, every emotion gets intensified and the feelings between them only gets stronger, which makes them realized that they never want to lose the sight of each other's eyes, because they "can't stop starin' at those ocean eyes".

But this conversation also leads to the opportunity of getting to know Sander at bit more. For me, at this point in the story, I had my doubts whether or not wtFOCK would go with the mental illness storyline, because I hadn't seen that many signs of it. Small details got dropped here and there along with conflicting pieces of information, but that just made me question everything even more. But in this scene, we finally got a sense of what it feels like to be Sander, and that made the theory about the mental illness storyline much more possible.

Before wtFOCK, I never imagined that I would be able to see myself so clearly in one of the characters from the SKAM universe, but Sander changed that. Like I've written before, I identify with Sander, because he speaks for me, he can put my feelings and thoughts into words, when I can't. He has an ability to explain his emotions in a way I find very difficult, and with this scene, with Sander's words, I never felt more represented.

What I found really interesting with this scene, was the acting of Willem De Schryver, and this is just one of the many times, that Willem has shown his amazing talent for acting. If you look closely, it seems like he's not even blinking, he is just starting out in the room, while he lets his mind speak without taking a break. Robbe doesn't say a word, he is just letting Sander know that he's there, that he's listening and that he doesn't have to hide or be ashamed of his feelings. In this scene we get a glimpse of the care and tenderness they show each other, we see how completely honest and open they can be, which shows the trust that grows between them.

I'm so proud of Sander for opening up, that he's comfortable enough to show a more vulnerable side of himself. He wants to make Robbe understand, that he has his struggles, that he might not always be the easiest person to be with, but Robbe doesn't care, he just wants Sander in every possible way. Because even though Robbe isn't expressing his feelings with words, he is showing Sander with a lot of kisses and heart-eye looks, that he's in love with him, that no matter the size of his problems, he's always going to be there by his side.

Not only is the song perfect for the clip, but once again wtFOCK managed to pair the song with the editing in such a beautiful way, For example, the whole beginning of the clip, where we see Robbe and Sander in different situations, where the song really gets a chance to shine. And also, towards the end of the song, because right before Sander starts to speak, the following lyrics can be heard in the background:

I've never fallen from quite this high

Fallin' into your ocean eyes

Those ocean eyes

And just as she sings "ocean eyes", Sander looks up, revealing his ocean eyes. Well I know Sander has green eyes, but still, it's a very nice touch and it's obvious that Robbe falls into Sander's eyes every time he looks at them, so the song seems fitting in more than one way. This will always be one of my favorite clips, because it always reminds me of the time they looked more in love than ever, and even though it has been over six months since the clip dropped, I can still feel every emotion, that I felt the first time I watched it. The cuddle-clip never seems to disappoint, and with Robbe and Sander it definitely didn't do that, because once again wtFOCK surprised us all, by doing all the things we weren't expecting.

#wtfock #wtfam #music in wtfock #wtfocksoundtrack

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