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I found more OTL I think one more text post meme thing will be done; enjoy the salad

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I've been wanting to make this video since 2023 AND I FINALLY DID IT LOL

Gonna upload the illustrations later .w.

Inspired by @wolfythewitch's Achilles animatic!

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Miss y'all

I'm busy and tired :(

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Why are the horrors calling you "babygirl"? 🤨

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Why are the horrors calling you "babygirl"? 🤨

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men will drop hints that they want to be tied up and bitten all over

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guy who sees something scary and says This is activating my suck or fuck response

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girl i love the word puttering...like yes i am just puttering around...doing my little tasks...going beep beep....

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anyways if you’re expecting a post, especially a longer post, I’ve been picking at them in my drafts <3 I’ve been kinda stressed the f u c k out the last couple days and sometimes words flow better with some stuff than others

no matter what I love you all I’m just monkey brain goblin at all times

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Cain’s grip on his brother does not loosen, instead steering the boy with an edge of force to a chair and sitting him there. Charley’s gaze has locked on Solas, unwavering as the Templar finally releases his braid. Cain begins on the binds holding his wrists first, a furrow appearing between his eyes at the sight of reddened skin. Charles never listened, and again tried to free himself with force. 

“You act as if you want me to scream and throw things, Solas.” Cain speaks, straightening up as his brother’s freed ands vanish under his travel worn cloak. “I thought you would have known better than to expect my disappointment to manifest in physical actions.”

Solas’ lean form had caught Cain’s eye almost immediately upon their entrance, it was through his strict ideas of control that he kept his gaze and focus on Charles. The boy still did not take his eyes off the elf, even has he dipped his head for Cain to release the straps that kept the mask in place. The outer shell was polished leather, decorated with etchings of flowers, but Cain had enough kindness in him to ensure the interior was soft and would not rub. 

“Would you rather I reduce myself to such base actions for your pleasure?” He questions, tugging his brother’s ratty cloak away with a look. He neatens everything into another tidy parcel, a man of habit. Cain sets it aside as he finally turns to regard the man, feeling a familiar tug in the pit of his stomach all the same. He doesn’t allow his attention to wander, no matter how tempting the subject may be. His body aches from the day and the tumble out of the barn, it helps keep his focus as it should. 

“Strike you, perhaps? Act without reason as Charles does? Do not mistake my weariness for a lack of condemnation. What I lack is fear. If it is fear that you expected, I apologize for the disappointment.” Cain finishes and Charley leaves the seat where he was put, no doubt drawn by the smell and promise of warm food. His clothes are too large for him, a fact more apparent now without his cloak, his feet bare. Cain notes with disapproval there’s still bits of straw stuck to him, and stains of mud. Vexing was surely the kindest thing he could say about Charles and his states, watching the boy with a hawk’s eye as he gathers his bowl and sits on the floor near the fire, folding his lean, coltish legs under him. 

“Mm.” A low, uncommitted noise from the Templar before his attention returns to Solas. “I am tired, spent some time pursuing my brother through the woods, and I have just fallen from your barn. I would ask to be excused for not expressing myself as completely as I would otherwise.”

.     The way that Cain addresses the subject, almost… nonchalant with his mention of that blood river and deadly battlefield, chills Pride down to his ichor-brined bones. Wasn’t this man a Templar? Surely he had left that life behind, and yet, did nothing remain of the reverence for life? The hatred of heinous acts? Solas’ copper-colored brows draw together over narrowed eyes, and for a brief moment he considers scolding Cain like a petulant child. He looks over his shoulder as the Templar shucks his armor, momentarily distracted by the fact that it was the first time he’d watched someone undressing since a prostitute in Val Chevin, before remembering his own frustration again.

.     “I should not be surprised that a human is quick to minimize my true identity,” He snaps. “It seems so typical of your kind to be unstartled by atrocities. If I were to tell you I raped and sodomized thousands I am sure you would not even blink.”

.     Solas doesn’t look when he hears the slab of wood creak, indicating Cain’s departure. He grimaces down at his hands, before resolving to take the clay jar of barley from its slot in the sod wall and pour grains into two misshapen ceramic bowls. He takes the kettle of broth from the fire and pours the boiling fluid into them, adding spoons of butter and several slivers of smoked eel to each, before setting them aside.

.     He peels his dirtied silk nightshirt off his body and sets it in a basket beside his bed with the rest of the washing. Fortunately it’s warm enough in the sod house to go without a shirt tonight.

.     Solas sets his weary body down again on his bed and picks up the pipe by the fire, finding that craving returning in Cain’s absence. The herbal fumes calm him, even when his unreliable heart jumps at hearing the hard thud of bodies hitting ground outside. He bites the mouthpiece and lays with his weight resting on one arm, still facing the open door. The visage of Charley is a welcome one, and Pride smiles warmly around his pipe.

.     “Your hair is a mess, child,” Chides the old man from his straw bed. “I suppose I will have to fix it again tomorrow. Have some food and sit by the fire. Your brother and I have more to discuss.”

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TWD verse Charley would be fascinated by music, he's never heard it before.

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“Snakes.” Charley repeats, mouth thinning slightly as it firms. He hated snakes. He refused to admit any fear for them - just dislike. Surely it was normal to dislike snakes, given how many on Rook were either the venomous or strangling variety. He could envision a future that involved startling his own self in his own yard as much as he did the stupid monkeys. 

“Fine, I will nail plastic snakes around my yard.” He sighs, keeping an eye on the tiny primate. “Those little ones are rampant thieves, you know. The slightly bigger ones are meaner but the little ones will run off with almost anything.”

‘Anything’ being his hammers, nails, small knives, and his entire quiver of arrows on one occassion. Food was the most popular among the monkeys, they liked to wait until his back was turned to upset baskets of fruit and snatch handfuls of berries, running off in a screeching chaos that ended in broken dishes and creative swears. 

“But it’s fine. I will put down snakes and you enjoy your pie.” Charley hestitated, then extended a hand. Surely this would be the end of it - the gods would be appeased and the monkeys would quit their new levels of harassment. 

.     Solas pauses upon hearing the complaint, and seems to think over it. With the lull in conversation he’s allowed to mull the solution over, a process that furrows his brows. The monkey crawls down the front of his buttoned shirt and hangs on the man’s arm, swinging back and forth via momentum in its lithe, furry body. The action distracts him, and Pride directs a smile of fatherly adoration down at the creature. It chitters, loud.

.     “They are afraid of snakes,” Says he, after his long pause for thought. “I am sure you could secure plastic fakes in Badtown if you ask the right person. Simply scatter them around your yard, and that should be sufficient to frighten the animals away.”

.     Solas lifts his arm to encourage the primate back onto his shoulder.  "Nail them down so that the wind does not take them. They are intelligent animals but alas can be fooled with such tricks. One of the hallmarks of evolutionary differences between them and humans.“

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neckshot​:

“I’ll take that as a no,” Grant hums, “Does that mean he gets you all drooly? Can’t say I haven’t thought about what you’d look like face down on the bed, ass up and begging for more, but I didn’t think your angry little husband could get you like that.” He finishes his juice and saunters to the trash can.

“You’d have more guests over if you upped your fridge game.” Grant decides to ignore who may or may not be setting things on fire. If anyone sets fires it’ll be Jason, and the oldest Brody doesn’t have the energy to chase his brother around, especially not when he’s got a Catholic to defile. “I mean look at it. No good beer- hell, no sandwich meat. How do you people live?”

“Jonathan is a vegan. I do not keep sandwich meat because it does not get eaten. Beer is for sinners.” Cain returns in a dry, flat tone, setting the neatly folded stacks of laundry back into the basket. If Brody wasn’t too tiring, perhaps he would coax his husband into a bath later. So often Jon got too carried away in his work to consider such basic necessities as eating and bathing and sleeping. 

“Stop rifling through my refridgerator.” He says then with a snap, picking up his basket to put away in the decidedly Halloween themed bedroom. Jon at the very least allowed a crucifix, the rest was primarily dark toned with ample amounts of pumpkin and scarecrow decor. Cain was rather neutral on the pumpkins but it made Jon happy, and that was what mattered.

“Isn’t that big stupid one you’re always lusting after in need of you somewhere?”

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“I would dare to say you would not find his tutelage lacking.”

Words that would only before pass deep in his thoughts now loosened by wine, Cain finds himself molding his fingers to Solas’ cock. The heat of it, the size. A rough thrill blooms in the pit of his stomach, making his skin prickle in anticipation. He had not expected such a lithe man to be so endowed, but it caused no hestitation as he shifted from his seat. 

To kneel was a sacred act, one of reverence. Cain kneels now between the casual sprawl of Solas’ long legs. He allows the palm of his hand, tightened by the light grip of his fingers, to slide up the elf’s length. He finds the laced closure of the thin trousers and pulls the string tails away to open him to the air of the night. 

It’s Solas’ strange eyes that enrapture him as he grips the hot, hard flesh of the man. Sword roughened fingers finesse him, pulling away the foreskin to slide the pad of his thumb over the slit, rubbing a glistening pearl of precum over the sensitive skin. He slips his hand down, cupping the base of Solas’ cock, finding the soft touch of the hair there strangely erotic. The scent of him in his nose, clean musk and sweet oil, does nothing but make him throb in his trousers. 

Lashes fall over lust-bright eyes, for the briefest moment taking in the man’s cock - it’s size and shape, the reddish hue of his pubic hair. His tongue comes first, wetting the underside of the head before he closes his lips around it. This is a first for him, but he was not inattentive during Dorian’s minstrations. His sweeps his tongue along the the glands, slowly bobbing as he finds his rhythm. Cain finds his hands are not without use either, stroking along the base of Solas as he dares to take more of him in his mouth, emboldened by wine and struck dumb by lust. He finds the man’s balls with the other, cupping and fondling. 

Cain looks up as he feels Solas slide along near the back of his tongue, cheeks hollowing as he increases the force of his suck, grip tightening near the base of his cock. There is a faint, wanting ache between his legs that he ignores. Something in the denial stirs him as he worships the elf on his knees. 

“Dorian and I are not on the friendliest of terms. I tend to avoid him and vice versa, and I am not so conversational with others as to pick up idle gossip.”

.     The revelation of Cain’s illicit relationship with Dorian does give Pride some initial pause. Were he any sort of moral he might be deterred by the presence of another person in the other man’s life, instead it only stokes the fire in his body. He is far superior to any human lover, and clearly the Tevinter mage wasn’t captivating enough to keep Cain’s interest.  Solas preens, his chin held slightly upward, shoulders squared, the picture of his namesake.

.     “I have lain with both sexes,” He answers. That’s all he’ll divulge on the matter– his hedonistic proclivities in the past were an unsavory topic of discussion, regardless of the heated mood. Some were men and some were women, some were entirely undefined, but he had experience in droves.

.     The brush of Cain’s lips on Solas’ knuckles causes his ears to twitch, and his pupils to dilate. He turns his hand in the Templar’s and grips it firmly, before guiding it downward. Solas plants Cain’s hand on the front of his tight trousers, right on the swelling of his crotch where it strained against the ratty fabric but was hidden by the flare in his tunic.

.     “Then you know what to do with this?” Asks Pride with a sinister gleam in his mauve eyes, “Or has Dorian neglected to give you proper instruction?”

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“I’m not stupid, Santiago.” Charley says, reproachful - as if he had any idea how to operate a car and was not giving the man his fullest attention, not really wanting to die today. He scooted a little more forward, managing to press the brake with some determination and stretch before going to wrangle the stick in the center. Cars really did seem needlessly complex, it was a wonder they didn’t just get rid of them all and replace them with horses. Something simpler, with a brain. Horses didn’t have buttons and sticks and things to press with your feet anyways. 

He does as instructed - for a moment. He lets off the gas pedal slowly, as if the Jeep might explode if released too quickly, only to slam back on it when the car began a slow roll forward. Charley nibbles at his lip, trying a second time without the panicked stop before giving the accelerator a little nudge with his toes. The car creeps up to fifteen miles an hour. 

“It’s moving?” There’s doubt in Charley’s voice and his grip is white knuckled on the steering wheel as he peers over the top of it. “I suppose I just need to keep it on the road now, right?” 

      Santiago rubs his eyes as he settles into the passenger seat. Is he making a mistake? Probably. He’s not going to bother looking for any good reason to justify this beyond his need for cool air-conditioning. The pirate readjusts the passenger vents to be facing his perspiring frown. Then his eyes meet Charley’s blank expression.

      “No, it’s is not broken. Look at your feet. The pedals makes the car stop and go: left one is brake and right one is go. But the car is on park right now. Press your foot on the left pedal before you putting the car into drive,” Santiago points to the ‘D’ on the manual gear shifter sitting between them, then shows Charley the button on the side that he’ll have to press and hold to release the shifter. He waits, watching, wondering if the miniature man will even be able to muster enough strength to do it. Oh, and for good measure, he quickly tugs the fraying passenger seatbelt across the width of his belly, clicks it into place in anticipation of his driver being a dumbass and sending them off at Mach-speed. Santiago figures he’ll pull the handbrake if it comes to that.

      “When is on drive, release the brake and slowly press on the accelerator. It’s is the pedal on the right, if you forget.” He doesn’t want any easy mistakes, so for now he’ll pretend Charley has the attention span of a goldfish.