#miss his dumpy still

[letmesleepforeverpls]

Crushing on main for people who would tear your throat out>>>

[depraced]

hello all you lovely people and autonomous entities! I've noticed a fair bit of people don't know how freaky frogs, just as a creature, are! I wanna give you some cool frog facts to help you either flesh out the character or at least amuse you.

Frogs have no throat muscles to swallow and must pull their eyes in to push food down! It is entirely possible that Fake Peppino has trouble eating food due to his bad eye.

Frogs are notably cannibalistic but SOME frogs can co-hab(cohabitate) like the dumpy frog!

Frogs can care for their kids! One of my favorite frog parents are poison dart frogs that let their children suction cup on their backs to be carried down the trees they live on. Bullfrogs are notably stupid and cannibalistic BUT there is a chance one stays behind to save all of their children from drying out! (This is called a creche)

Frogs can have hair! BUT and this is a big one, that hair is really just tiny strips of skin filled with blood vessels. It is likely if you cut Fake Peppino's hair he would bleed.. Or whatever he does when injured. It's the wolverine frog, btw.

Frogs have been known to use sign language! Strange, but there is a type of frog that lives near a waterfall that is so loud the only way to communicate is by waving their legs to convey thoughts.

There are frogs that get so small that they become really bad at everything. They are so small they cannot jump right because their inner ear cannot use fluid in the way it is supposed to. THEY CANNOT HEAR but the silly things still make noise anyways.

There is a type of frog that breaks its fingers to use the sharp bones as claws. Metal. Also the wolverine frog.

Frogs shed! They love the taste of their own shed skin like geckos.

If frogs are gymnasts toads are wrestlers. Armed with impressive arm muscles and back legs as well as MANY species packing a potent poison and even special claws, the only reason we don't fear them is that we do not fit in their mouths. I kept toads and if they wanted to kill something they crushed it to death. Also the toad I kept had an extra toe in front to help them grab the females and screamed if you grabbed behind their ears. It's a reflex to say they are a male so other males do not grab them. Bufo Americanis, btw.

Some frogs have that reflex too. They can scream if you grab their back or head.

A frogs tounge is attached at the front of the mouth and flips like a hinge! Fake Peppino does not seem to do that but really hinge tounges are cooler so his loss.

A tadpole absorbs its tail after it grows in its legs. It will not eat during this period. It's tail is all the food it needs. Also tadpole tails are cool. Yes, that is a fact.

There is a frog that can freeze solid making it one of the VERY few animals to be able to do so. It's heart barely beats during this time.

The glass frog is see-through. Seriously. Look it up, it's cool as hell. Not as completely as the glass eel but enough to watch it's innards.

poison dart frogs raised in captivity are entirely safe to handle as their poison comes from their food. Toads just make their own through glands. They are always bad to eat.

Let me know if I missed any cool facts! I forget how much people do or don't know.

[comradeboyhalo]

I would be interested in seeing the tierlist if you made it

i was going to make this a separate post but ill just answer this here. also im obviously going to be biased bc i see some eggs more than others and ofc i miss out on a good chunk of lore bc i only know english. so if im wrong, theres a reason for that!

my hot take is that roleplaying as a child > any other lore crafted. so that shapes the bulk of this list. AND NO SLANDER THEY ALL DO REALLY WELL, THIS LIST IS NITPICKY BC I OVERALL LOVE THEM ALL.

dapper: I SWEAR IM NOT (COMPLETELY) BIASED. a few months ago, dapper's admin would be quite lower, however he's really gone crazy with rp recently. his body language is really cute and feels very childlike, and i really enjoy how he saves emotional sucker-punches when you least expect it. his deathday signs hit that much harder because he rarely shares his feelings. the soul vulture lore was really well drawn-out with a great pay-off. and it all felt very in character and gave so much character development. if dapper openly shared his feelings all the time with bad, i dont think any of this would feel as powerful.

leo: leo feels so much like a character, and i mean that entirely positively. whenever i see her, i feel like i dont even think of QNPC05, i just think LEO. shes spoiled and bratty but in an adorable way, her body language just screams CHILD, and her use of different heads is so fun. also she was the first egg to use colored signs! she has a lot of worries and social anxiety, but i feel like whenever she communicates these to foolish, it never feels info-dumpy. its actually very impressive how much emotion she can put across just through body language.

richarlyson: i actually was wondering if richas should be lower and everyone raises their pitchforks. i know. hear me out. i really like how detailed richas' admin does his lore HOWEVER i sometimes feel like he doesn't act baby enough. idk. theres something about how leo and dapper emote, and even their worries and insecurities, that makes me see them as much younger. that being said, richas' dedication to family conflict is really well-done and something that more eggs should do. (and for everyone disagreeing with me, i know. i know why im wrong. but i just cant help the vibes i get im sorry?). i get a lot of cuteness agression when he shifts to check if people are following him tho 10/10

tallulah: tallulah and pomme are interchangeable bc they both do what i DONT prefer in rp, which is writing out your feelings. dont get me wrong, its great to know the eggs' thoughts, but those sort of angst dumps just dont hit as hard every stream. tallulah just edges out pomme bc she is a bit more irrational, and makes a lot of mistakes, which i think is a brave move in rp.

pomme: pomme has a really well-crafted character, but, again, i really prefer eggs who are harder to figure out vs eggs who lay all their feelings out. pomme is a bit too influential in bbh's lore decisions imo, sometimes i think she should let things play out a bit further before she tries to reign him back. i know shes just rping, but metawise, i think the admin should let him cook a little longer. i do really think she has a great "child soldier" vibe going on, which feels v much uniquely hers. i just think she could take more risks in rp, pomme is a very logical egg but she's still just a child. i dont want her to always choose the logical answer, i want to see how her young perceptions can force her to make a wrong decision.

ramon: ramon is sort of a weird case in that hes ABOVE tallulah/pomme cause he doesnt do what i dislike. however hes below them in general characterization. that being said, hes really underrated in his relationship with fit, and has some very gut-punching one liners. but hes also kind of like richas where i know LOGICALLY he does roleplay like a kid but i just. the vibes are not the same as dapper and leo. what can i do about that. hes just too competent i guess.

chayanne: chayanne is another egg thats hard for me to catch on stream, but i havent really felt any standout moments from 01 or 06 (however i think 01 plays best cucurucho). idk. i know chayanne's personality pretty well, i just need something...more. maybe i just tune in at the wrong times? i DO love his opinions on philever tho lmaoo. i think his best moment was when he kept trying to fight while quackity repeatedly told him he wasnt strong (reinforcing his greatest fear). and i think the fact that chayanne isnt placed in more dangerous situations really hinders his development (since hes understanding of why phil keeps him protected).

[siriannatan]

Empires Arknights AU - Scott fWhip

Is it an excuse to ramble about one of my favourite games? Maybeeeee… {: <3<3<3

Slightly lore-dumpy explanation of stuff (can probably be skipped):

Arknights - tower defence gatcha

Lungmen - mobile, modern Chinese/Japanesee style city

Liberi - bird people {reference}

Lung - asian style dragon {reference} people as oposed to draco {reference}

Ægir - fish people {reference}

Leithanien - Arknights Germany

Victoria - Arknights UK

Wei - leader of Lungmen

Lin's - old Lin, or Rat King is kinda the godfather of Lungmen underworld, his {granddaughter} is to take over after him

Penguin Logistics - a logistics company with an actual penguin for a boss

Siracusa - Arknights Italy, full of wolf-people, minus Vatican, that's Laterano, totally separate place with Sankta - angels with guns

L.G.D. - Lungmen Guard Departmen, kind of Lungmen police

Hoshiguma - member of the Special Service of Lungmen Guard Department {reference}

Ch'en - Special Inspection Unit Chief, L.G.D. {reference}

Scott was having a great day. Yes, he spent most of it in his high-rise office. Taking in appointments, and making phone calls. But at least today no one pulled out a gun on him. Just the thought of the few rude 'customers' was enough to have the Liberi's feathers ruffled. With a sigh, he calmed down and glanced at the clock. Nicely made, imported from Leithanien. He had some fond memories of a brief stay there in his youth. Not that it was that long ago.

He was starting to wonder how long he should stay, waiting for his last guest when his door swung open. An angry Lung, dressed in rather traditional Lungmen garb. Ginger hair tied in a long braid. Scott kind of hated it. Blue eyes narrowed in a glare that the Liberi met with a polite smile.

"Punctual as always, Mr fWhip," he greeted with his best 'Victorian', as fWhip called it, smile.

"Don't give me that, why did you send assassins after me this time?" he asked, taking most of the couch opposite of Scot's desk.

"I simply didn't want you to ignore my invitation, unlike the last time I sent one," Scott's smile faltered slightly. fWhip could be damn annoying. Unfortunately, he was Lungmen's best when it came to explosives and Scott's... business often needed them. "Would you like some tea? I recently received a shipment of Victoria's finest," he offered, the legal part of his business was all about trade. Less legal... also imports but of things Mr Wei would approve. Lin's certainly did like him.

"Sure, why not," the Lung huffed. He did keep his eye on Scott as he made the two cups. "You still insist on dressing like a Victorian," he huffed. For some reason, he was really against Scott's suits.

"Well, that's where I'm from after all," Scott shrugged. And Victorian clothes were comfier for him. He did not mention that.

"What did you get me to come here for? And be glad I didn't report you to Madam Ch'en. She's not let you go no matter how much Lin's like you," he huffed. Ever loyal to Wei. How boring.

"Right to the business," Scott shook his head. "Maybe I just wanted to share a cup of tea with a friend?"

fWhip laughed at that. "Yeah right. What do you want?"

Scott sighed. How Lung of fWhip. "I need help locating a certain box for an acquaintance. Miss Ling brought him here so it's kind of important. But relics are not quite my cup of tea, but then I remembered a friend who has a nice collection," he said, giving up on playing with fWhip.

"Acquaintance? Lin Yühsia? Now that's interesting," fWhip mused. 

"Mhm. I have no idea where she found an Ægir here," not that it was all that interesting to him.

"Why didn't she just go to Penguin Logistics? I'm sure they could find it easily."

"Maybe she needed some more... finesse?" Scott offered with a giggle. "They are certainly fun but I think the Ægir she dragged here would drop dead after just seeing them," he giggled setting a teacup in front of fWhip. Victorian make, of course, just to annoy him further.

"Maybe, but really... Did it have to be damn Siracusans you send? They're a pain to deal with," fWhip huffed, taking a sip. He said nothing so it had to be good.

"You're still here so not that bad," Scott did not regret sending assassins after fWhip. It always got him to his office. "So how about we leave the box for tomorrow, and spend the rest of today on..." he said as he settled next to fWhip, "...me apologising to you?" he finished, one hand resting on fWhip's thigh.

"Fine, but you have a lot to apologise for, I had to talk to L.G.D.'s  Madam Hoshiguma, I don't want to repeat that anytime soon..." fWhip sighed as he finished his tea. It was always fun to hear him indirectly complain about his height.

[zoethebitch]

I'm only about 15% of the way thru Spiderman 2 but so far I'm not having as much fun as I was in the first game. or in Miles' game. it's still fun it's still good I am enjoying it just not as much. this is a different map than the other 2 games and it includes Brooklyn and Queens which is cool and makes sense bc Peter is from Queen and Miles is from Brooklyn but I feel like it's made traversal a lot less smooth. swinging around Manhattan in those first 2 games was easy and fun and I could do it for hours. this new map is less dense there's the East River to cross there's more space between tall buildings it's probably a more accurate representation of NYC but I don't really care about that and it's not as fun. they've added some flying squirrel type gliding mechanic to deal with this but that's dumb and this isn't a squirrel girl game. I know Peter has that in the comics. I don't care. no one cares. shut up.

the other thing is combat. it's mostly the same but the ratchet and clank type gadget wheel is gone and I miss it. there's a dumpy little gadget wheel that let's you equip 4 gadgets at a time. the gadgets are also not as good. maybe I just haven't unlocked the good ones yet idk. it makes it a lot harder to stick enemies to walls that was always really fun in the first game and the quickest and easy way to dispatch someone. you had a huge variety of ways to accomplish this and now you don't. you had a lot of tricks and fun ways to fight at your disposal and it was so fluid and graceful and fun it was a really genius combat system and the new one is not as fun there's an ability wheel for Miles' electricity powers and a wheel for Peter where mechanical spider arms come out of the back of his suit 👎👎👎 they already changed Peter's model to resemble Tom Holland more and now they've made the stupid Iron Man Spider arms permanent. hate it!

also the suits you can unlock are purely cosmetic from what I can tell the first game had each suit come with a special ability and you had to unlock the suits to get those and it was a better incentive I feel like. I'm not wasting resources to craft a different colored suit I don't care about that.

anyways the campaign so far is good and I love seeing Peter and Miles interact and getting to play as both of them in the same game and sometimes you're just busting up a random assault on the street and the other Spiderman comes and helps out and they high five and do the pointing meme and it's nice I do like that.

oh there is that like marvel thing tho where like you rescue one guy in a side quest and he casually mentions his boyfriend and it's like. so forced you know like that Russo brother in Endgame says he's gay one time and everyone in the studio pats themselves on the back for being inclusive. that doesn't pass anymore it's 2023 we got games where you have gay sex with bears now it's time to catch up. maybe Venom and Kraven the Hunter do some nasty hate fucking later but I doubt it!

[scarfacemarston]

All Epilogue Journals and Transcription

Note: This does not include the 100% completion spoilers. I really challenge you to read through this and still tell me that John is not as complex as Arthur. They just portray it differently. I’m not saying you have to like him - just that he is so much more than “just a dumb angry man”.  I still encourage everyone to play the game. It’s not the same through here. It’s a beautiful story and ties up nicely. 

Transcript:  Being back in this country made me dig up Arthur’s old journal again. Odd few years wandering. back here, this country that we ran to when things went crazy all those years ago  My mind is full of ghosts. Been a tough few years. Jack don’t like me and Abigail cannot  stand me or is it the reverse?

Killed a feller because he looked at me funny. Abigail wants me to settle down - To what? Everything I’ve tried has gone wrong, for so long now, ad now I’m back in old country. Well I guess the north didn’t turn out so good.

So now I’m a farm hand. Until I lose my temper again, I guess. Working at a place called Pronghorn Ranch. They seem to like me because I’m big and nasty and they surely ain’t. And some local tough guys seem to know they aint. Well I guess Abigail can’t have everything, but she won’t be able to deny I’ve at least got a normal job.

Pronghorn Ranch ^

I’m not much of a rancher but I can still give a big mouth a good smack. Abigail still seems to despise me. Jack ain’t sure but I reckon he aint none too keen.

She’s a gone - she went a - She went and left me. Gave me enough warning, I suppose. She weren’t wrong, I’d leave me, if I could. What now? No son, no woman and a no good rancher on a no good ranch. These rich bastards, the Laramie want old Geddes  dead. If I had a brainI”d go work for them. But I kind of like Geddes.

Good news - I now own a ranch. Bad news, I now have Uncle with me. Or is it the reverse? If he don’t shut his mouth, I’ll paint this place with his blood. I bought a dumpy bit of land for Abigail and she ain’t here.  Instead I get Uncle.

How the hell did this happen? I got the worst of all things. I miss Abigail. I’ve been a proper fool for longer than I can remember. FOR ALWAYS.

Went to Saint Denis with Uncle because Charles Smith was there and in trouble. Charles had taken to boxing and did not seem to be in too much trouble after all, until we stumbled into some local gangsters who wanted to shoot both of us But not he’s here and I’ve got a completely different family to the one I had a while ago. Not sure what to make of that.

This countryside is full of some of the worst scum and maniacs I’ve ever come access. Guess we fit right in. Went to buy lumber t build a new house. Got jumped by some local gang everyone is terrified by. A hand Charles had hired got himself killed. Wonder if these bastards will bring trouble  and how much.

Saw Sadie Adler again. Guess I thought she’d been dead. Maybe it’s just me that’s been dead. I don’t know. Was good to see her. She’s a bounty hunter and  suited to the work. Saw her put a knife clean through the hand of some big old boy she was fighting with. Ain’t seen her since she and Arthur saved Abigail and Arthur saved my life. We headed north and she  turned to this line of work

Built ourselves a place to live - never thought I would say those words. Now I just need a family and a way of paying off these debts. Went off bounty hunting with Sadie, who I’d met again after all these years, and whole thing turned crazy. Thank god Abigail weren’t around or she’d have skinned me herself.

Abigail and Jack came back. Whole of my life suddenly makes some kind of sense. If only I could pay off these damn debts - and if only I could have been a different man all these years I wasted being a fool.

I’M GETTING MARRIED. She thinks I’m a real fool and she’s right, only she don’t know quite why I am a fool.

We got married and we danced and Uncle made us laugh - and Jack seemed real happy. Sadie left, after she fixed herself up. Charles went off hunting something or other as I knew he would. Uncle ain’t going anywhere. Saw Dutch, damn near broke my heart again after all this time. Wanted to kill him, but I didn’t. Saw Micah was never gladder to see a man die. Whatever peace and happiness I can find in this world, I  know it’s a better place with him out of it. Storyline finished. 100% Game completion journal entries not included here - but in separate post. 

[duckapus]

(So I went on a walk and came up with a great idea for Showtime's ultimate fate at the end of the Wonder Arc, and even though I still have the vast majority of the arc to write I wanted to get this out now so I don't forget it. I'll do my best to not include any spoilers beyond "the good guys win in the end" and "yeah the character heavily implied to be Floyd was definitely Floyd")

As everyone else is celebrating, Duck wanders the battlefield seemingly aimlessly, looking for something, "Come on, with that much personality and determination you must left something behind..."

In a relatively quiet area he sees it; a tiny, malformed, glowing lump of some black-and-pink substance half-buried in the dirt, invisible and intangible to anyone but himself. He picks it up and checks it over, breathing a sigh of relief when he doesn't sense any of the meat moss's power or influence lingering within it, "Well, you've caused quite a bit of grief the last couple weeks."

Floyd overhears him and floats over, eyeing the lump nervously, "Wait, is that..."

"Showtime's soul, yeah."

"Huh. Didn't think she'd have one, considering she was pretty much just where the corruption and Emmy's brain overlapped."

"Yeah, it's definitely a case of just barely managing it. It's horrifically underdeveloped and rotted almost clean through...but not quite irredeemable, now that all the gunk's been cleaned out." despite the gentle smile saying this prompts from him, there's a distinctly unfriendly, possibly vengeful gleam in his eyes.

"Uh, I know you had something to do with Welony coming back. You're not gonna-"

"No! Hell no, I'm not making you guys deal with her after all that!" He did not get his physical form stuck inside a mushroom just to more-or-less reward the bitch that indirectly caused it, "No, I have something much more interesting planned..." Yep. Definitely vengeful.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next thing Showtime knows, she's waking up in what looks like a factory inside a volcano with the world's worst hangover.

"Ohhhh, dying's a bitch." she reaches up and massages the bridge of her beak with one flipper while doing her best to push herself up off the ground with the other.

...Wait.

Beak?

Flippers!?

Headache briefly forgotten, she shoots up (and then nearly topples right back over because it feels like she's on fucking stilts) and looks around frantically for a reflective surface. When she finally finds a big, particularly well-polished exposed gear, she's stunned by what she sees.

There in the makeshift mirror, there stands a bizarre, penguin-like thing held together by comically large stitches, brought up from two feet to three by a pair of long wooden peg-legs, with tiny black bat wings and a fucking fanny pack! The only things left of her old, beautiful self are her color scheme and eyes- mostly pink with a black belly and sclera and blood-red question marks for pupils.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?"

"The proper grammatical structure would be "what the fuck, dood," miss Showtime."

She whirls around to see who the hell just said that, finding an absolute twink of a vampire who clearly has a stick up his ass, and a brown haired teenage girl in an outfit clearly designed to look like a blue version of her current dumpy form leaning casually on a baseball bat like it's a cane.

The girl pipes up, "She's gonna be a hard case, huh boss?"

"You would know, miss "I'll just blindly obey the first person who talks to me and incite a revolution because this is clearly all just a dream and nothing matters"."

"Hey, I got over my denial eventually, didn't I?"

"Yes, and then you strongarmed me into making you a demon and one of my TA's so you could focus on world domination plans with your little sister and wouldn't have to reincarnate or take those remedial lessons you owed me."

"HEY! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON????"

"Ah yes, my apologies. I am the Vampire Lord Valvatorez, Prinny Instructor Extraordinaire!" he poses exactly as dramatically as you'd expect, then makes a sweeping gesture to the girl, "And this is Fuka Kazamatsuri, one of my assistants."

Fuka gives a lazy, two-fingered salute, "Yo."

"And you, miss Showtime, are part of the Netherworld's latest batch of new Prinnies."

"I...don't know what that means."

Fuka takes over the explanation, "Right, you're not from around here so you wouldn't know. Okay, so first off, you are fully aware that you're dead, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, here in our universe, one of four things can happen when you die...well, technically five if you include ghosts. Your average Joe who had a zero-impact life where they didn't cause no major trouble for nobody just gets reincarnated. Especially virtuous souls become Angels, while truly irredeemable ones get flat-out destroyed. And for people like you and me, who've either sinned frequently enough to get noticed or done some truly heinous shit, but still have a chance to do better next time, there's Prinnies.

"As a Prinny, your one goal in afterlife is to atone for your sins so you can...basically pay off your tab. And to atone, you work. You work for whatever Angel or Demon will hire you for whatever pay they're willing to give you doing whatever job they have for you. Once you've worked long enough, hard enough, and feel genuine remorse for all you've done? You get to reincarnate with the Joe Schmoes. Total clean slate, new body, new mind, whole new you." She smirks and pulls an extremely thick scroll with Showtime's name written at the top in flowing script, "And you've built up quite the tab for such a young soul."

Oh. Oh god no.

"Also you explode if someone throws you. It doesn't kill you or anything, but it's not exactly fun," she shrugs, "could be worse, though. I mean, you picked a pretty good Netherworld to spend your damnation in. We've got, like, Unions and shit."

Showtime just barely manages to shake herself out of her near-catatonic state, "And, uh...what does me not saying "dude" have to do with that?"

Val-whatever his name was once again takes the stage, ""A Prinny must always end the final sentence in their current dialogue box with 'dood', that spelling specifically, or else face grave consequences, unless circumstances render it impossible to do so." The first of many lessons you will learn here. As I'm sure you've noticed, a newly created Prinny does not automatically know how to be a Prinny. Your movements, your magic, the behavior expected of you all of these things and more must be taught! And as your assigned Instructor, it is my duty and privilege to ensure that your entry into Prinny society is as smooth and painless as possible, as I do with every damned soul that passes through these halls."

Aaaand there's the catatonia again.

"Now come along, miss Showtime. If my watch is correct, it's nearly time for Orientation, and I will not tolerate tardiness from either of us."

[cyarskj84]

School Slut

Dean drops by Stanford to visit Sam, only to hear some unexpected rumors about his little brother.

Warnings: Public sex, group sex, descriptions of both gay and straight sex, a little bit of spanking, undertones of dom/sub, underage drinking.  Some of the consent in this is really dubious because of excessive alcohol and terrible communication, but everyone is fine in the end.   This story contains wincest.

-

-

-

Stanford was… okay.

Kind of a dump, Dean decided as he walked through campus, hands in his jacket pockets.  Yeah, pretty dumpy.  Sure, it had a couple nice-looking buildings, but most of them… okay, actually most of them were pretty nice-looking.  And the campus was pretty clean.  And full of pretty people.  All chatting with their pretty friends and going to classes to learn things.

Boring things, probably.

Dean didn’t understand why Sam wanted to be here.  But hey, he wasn’t about to let this totally dumpy campus discourage him from visiting his little brother.  Sam had been here for almost a year now, he must miss his big bro.

Dean was hoping to surprise Sam.  Unfortunately, that meant he had no idea where to find him.

A pretty girl was sitting on a bench next to a nice-looking building in front of a nice-looking stretch of grass, reading a textbook that was probably full of boring class stuff.  Dean smirked.  Not a bad place to start.  He walked over to the girl and smiled when she glanced up at him.

“Hey,” she offered cheerfully, brushing blond hair out of her eyes.

Dean gave her his most winning smile.  “Hey.  You wouldn’t happen to know a Sam Winchester, would you?”

For a moment the girl just blinked at him like he was asking what color the sky was.  Then she snorted.  “Uh… yeah I know Sam Winchester.”

“Great!  Do you know where I can find him?”

The girl kept giggling, clearly trying to hide it and doing a very poor job.  “Uh, no, I don’t know him that well.”

Dean’s eyebrows pursed as the girl continued to chuckle.  “Uh… okay.  Thanks.  You’ve been… very helpful.”

“Sure, sure.”  The girl turned back to her reading as Dean started to turn away.  “ … Just read the bathroom stalls if you wanna find him.”

Dean turned back around.  “What?”

“Nothing.”  The girl brushed her hair out of her eyes, still chuckling.  “I’m sure you’ll find him.  Just ask around.”

Dean gave the girl one more perplexed look before walking away.

—-

The next person Dean asked was a guy that he caught at a drinking fountain.

“Hey, do you know Sam Winchester?”

“Sam?”  The guy straightened up and wiped a hand across his mouth.  “You mean Slutty Sam?”

Dean veered away from the guy like he’d just confessed to having the plague.  The words bounced around Dean’s mind like some alien language.

S l u t t y  S a m.

It didn’t compute.  The term was self-contradictory.  Dorky, prudish Sam and sex just didn’t go together.  Dean cleared his throat, trying to collect himself.  “Uh… no, probably a different Sam.  Maybe… Nerdy Sam or Gigantic Sam.”

The guy held his hand up a couple inches above his head.  “About this tall?”

“Yeah.”

“Kinda shaggy hair?”

Dean swallowed.  There was a growing apprehension in the pit of his stomach.  “ … Yeah.”

“Really smart, right?”

Dean shook his head, his face a little pale.  “Nope, he’s dumb as nails, must be a different Sam.  Definitely a different Sam.”

“Oh.”  The guy shrugged.  “Well, I only know Slutty Sam, so good luck finding your other Sam.”

“Yeah.  Sure.”

As soon as the guy walked away, Dean bent over the drinking fountain and took a long, long drink of ice cold water.

—-

“Oh, you mean Slutty Sam?”

Dean licked his dry lips and did his best not to look like he was slowly losing his mind.  “ … Yeah.  Sure.  That one.”

The girl he was speaking to nudged her friend.  “Hey, haven’t you got physics with him?”

The other girl smirked.  “Yeah, he sits in front of me.  Sometimes I count his hickeys when – ”

“Whoa, okay.”  Dean rubbed a hand over his forehead.  “So you’re telling me that this Sam – Sam Winchester – gets laid a lot?”

Dean couldn’t reconcile the image of his dorky, gangly little brother getting it on with even one chick, let alone enough to earn him the title Slutty Sam.

Wow, those words felt weird even in his head.

One of the girls just burst into laughter at Dean’s question.  The other did her best to answer Dean without joining her friend in incoherence.

“I swear, I don’t know how he manages to keep his GPA so high!  You’d think he wouldn’t even have time to study with all the cock he – ”

“Right, thanks, I’ll just be – ”  Dean’s throat constricted.  “Wait, cock?”

“Yeah, you didn’t know?  It’s a wonder that kid can still sit down after – ”

“Okay, thank you, very vivid!” Dean interrupted, holding up his hands.  The images his mind was conjuring up were more than he could handle right now.  

The girl gave him a knowing smile.  “Hey, if you want a turn with him, you can find his number on most of the bathroom stalls.  You look like you’d be his type, I’m sure he’d – ”

“I’m his brother,” Dean blurted, trying not to breathe too heavily.

The girl’s smile vanished and she blinked.  “ … Oh.  Oh.  Um.  Very sorry for being so.  Um.”  She tugged on her friend’s arm and took a step back.  “ … Sorry.”

Dean rubbed a hand over his forehead.  Fuck, he was sweating.  He hoped his face wasn’t red.  “It’s fine, it’s…  I’m sure I’ll find him eventually.”

The girl who had been laughing was only laughing harder now, but the other one seemed uncomfortable.  “He’s… a very good student?” she offered.

“Yeah, I know.  I mean… thanks for trying.”

—-

It was a really, really bad idea.  But Dean had drunk a lot of water at that fountain earlier and it seemed dumb to flee campus just to take a piss.

He walked into one of the campus bathrooms with a feeling of deep apprehension.  He had to steel himself before glancing into the first stall.

Prof brady is a bitch

… That’s all that was written on the walls.  Dean let out a tense sigh.  He hesitated there for almost a full minute, drumming his fingers against the pale blue, green-flecked plastic divider.  Then he flung open the next stall with unnecessary violence.

Nothing.  Clean walls.

Dean took a deep, shuddering breath.  This was a terrible idea.  He didn’t want to see his little brother’s name written on a bathroom stall like a… a…

Like a slut.

He told himself that, but then he flung open the next stall door.

but are we even nematodes

… Fucking college kids.  Dean snorted and opened the next stall without thinking.  And froze when he saw a number.  And writing.  Dean clenched and unclenched his fists a few times, his heart thumping.  Slowly, inevitably, he walked into the stall as if drawn by some invisible force.  The writing was thin pencil, scraped over the rough plastic –

For a nice tight ass, call –

Dean tore his eyes away, breathing hard.  Something in the pit of his stomach told him that was Sam’s number.  His eyes darted guiltily back up to the writing.

… Fuck.  Him.  That looked an awful lot like Sam’s number.

Nice tight ass.

Dean’s heart was pounding.  To his absolute horror, his cock gave a little twitch.

But it had absolutely nothing to do with his little brother.  Hell, this was just a number scribbled on a wall below the words nice tight ass.  Dean had felt a nice tight ass squeezing around his dick before, so it was only rational that the words would conjure up some memories.  Memories a pretty girl bent over with his hand tangled in her long hair, his other hand grabbing the full curve of her hip as his cock pumped in her and she moaned for more –

Dean shook his head, blinking until the plastic dividers and cold tiles of the bathroom stall swum back into focus.

He could have used any other stall.  But somehow Dean found himself reaching back and pulling the stall door shut so he could use this one.

He almost didn’t see the blue pen writing on the inside of the door, but he froze when he registered the words.

Slutty Sam choked on my dick here

Dean forgot how to breathe, staring at those scribbled words like his life depended on it.  When he finally tore his eyes away, he ended up looking at the grimy tile floor.  

His little brother had kneeled on that grimy tile floor and sucked some guy’s cock.

Dean stormed out of the stall and slammed the door behind himself so hard it shook the whole divider.  He stomped past the sinks and wrenched the door open, startling a student who was reaching for it.

“Whoops, sorry – ”

“Fuck off, you probably fucked my brother too,” Dean snarled, shoving past the wide-eyed man and storming away.

—-

Dean thought about just calling Sam and to let him know that he was on campus.  But he’d been so determined to surprise Sam with a visit.  So, against Dean’s better judgement, he continued to ask around.

“I don’t want to know if you slept with him, I just want to know where his dorm is.”

The redhaired girl that Dean was speaking to gave him a knowing wink.  “Ah, I getcha.  His dorm, huh?”

“No, I just – ”  Dean ground his hands over his eyes.  “Jesus christ, just tell me where he lives.”

“Sorry, I don’t know.  But you could ask the basketball team.”

“Why would – ”  Dean’s stomach dropped.  “ … Why would they know.”

“Dunno.  I hear he fucked all of them.”

Dean swallowed and managed to squeak out, “Women’s or men’s team?”

The girl opened her mouth to answer, then paused thoughtfully.  “You know… I don’t know that he hasn’t slept with the women’s team… ”

“ … Right.  Men’s team, then,” Dean choked.  His voice didn’t sound like his own.  “Um.  Thanks.  I’ll just… ask them.”

“Sure.  Good luck.”

Dean started turning to leave, but stopped himself and blurted, “Is the entire basketball team gay?”

The girl frowned.  “Nah, I don’t think so.  I mean, Steve definitely is, but I know Randy and Tom have had girlfriends so – ”

“Right, forget I asked.  I’ll… I’ll find him somehow.”

—-

Dean had no intention of talking to one of the basketball players who had fucked his little brother.  But when he realized he was passing the gym and heard the thump of basketballs on a polished wooden floor… well, he didn’t have any other leads.

Dean managed to catch one of the players as he was taking a water break.  The guy was tall, easily taller than Dean, and absolutely corded in muscle.  His jersey stuck to his chest with sweat.

Gross.  Dean had no clue why Sam or anyone at all ever would be into that.

“So.  Sam Winchester.”

The basketball player frowned down at Dean.  “Hey, it’s not gay if you only do it once.”

Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes wearily.  “Great, so you did sleep with him.”

“Naaah, I’d hardly call it ‘sleeping with’ him.  I just, you know, used what he was offering.”

Dean twitched.  “Used?”

“All the guys were doing it.  If you’d seen him you would have understood.”

Dean cracked his knuckles slowly.  “He’d better have been into this.”

The guy held his hands up with a grin.  “Oh, he was way into it.  God, I’d heard the kid was a slut, but I’ve never seen so much enthusiasm for – ”

“Yeah, okay, just how many of you are actually gay?” Dean snapped in exasperation.  He could almost handle his little brother getting a lot of tail, but his little brother having magical heterosexuality-defying powers was a step too far.

“Steve and Brad are gay.  Not with each other.  … I don’t think.”

“But you all slept with Sam?”

The basketball player held a finger up.  “Fucked him, not slept with him!  And no, a bunch of guys left.  It was more like… half the team fucked him.”  A rolling ball bumped the player’s foot and he picked it up and tossed it back onto the court before continuing.  “ … Sam came in after a game and started getting with Brad.  All kissing and grabbing at each other.”  He held up a finger again.  “That was gay.”

“Unlike you,” Dean confirmed dryly.

“Exactly.  I was all gonna tell them to get a room if they were gonna be like that, but Brad just bent him over one of the benches and started fingering him.  Right there in the locker room!  And then Steve walks up and grabs Sam’s hair and – wow, you shoulda seen him, he had this big grin on his face like he couldn’t wait.  Opened his mouth right up when Steve took his cock out.”

Dean swallowed.  “Y-you don’t say.”

“Yeah, and when Steve’s done, Slutty Sam just licks his lips and looks around the room while Brad’s dick is still in his assand says, ‘Anyone else wanna go?’  Fucking cock-hungry.”  The basketball player shrugged.  “I mean, I’m as straight as the next guy – so long as the next guy isn’t Brad or Steve – but come on, when someone begs to suck your cock, what’re you gonna do?”

Dean’s throat was dry.  “ … So you let him blow you?”

“Uh… not exactly.”  The basketball player gave Dean a sheepish grin.  “When Brad was done, he pulled out and gave Sam’s ass a smack and walked away, didn’t pull up Sam’s pants or anything.  I thought Sam was gonna be pissed, you know?  But he just spread his legs and pushed his ass in the air, fuck, you could fucking tell he was waiting for someone else to take a turn.  Probably would have begged for it if he hadn’t been gagging on Randy’s cock.”  He chuckled.  “I never had a girlfriend who let me, you know?  And, wow, suddenly there was this tight, slick little hole just there and waiting for me to use it.  Any dude would have stuffed their dick in that.”

Dean’s heart was pounding.  He couldn’t imagine it, the scene just didn’t make sense in his mind.  His sweet, shy, dorky little Sammy getting roughly fucked by a room full of jocks, he just couldn’t…

No, actually, he could imagine it.  Really, really vividly.

“Do you know where his dorm is?” Dean stammered out.

The basketball player stepped back from Dean suspiciously.  “ … You gay?”

“No, I – ”  Dean gestured angrily at the team still playing on the court.  “You don’t mind your teammates being gay!”

“Yeah, but I know they’re gay.  You’re like… stealth gay.”

“I’m not gay!  Just tell me where he lives, I’m – I’m a friend from his hometown.”

The basketball player shrugged.  “Dunno.  Ask Brad.  They way they were going at it, looked like they’d done it before.”

“Great.  Excellent.  Thanks.”  Dean blew out a tense breath and stalked away.  “I’ll just… go talk to another person who’s fucked my brother.”

—-

Brad had shaggy blond hair and surfer-tan skin and basically fit every stereotype associated with the name “Brad.”  Aside from the heterosexuality.

“So, I hear you have a thing with Sam Winchester,” Dean began wearily.

Brad laughed and tossed his basketball back into the fray, where someone else caught it and dribbled it across the court.  “Oh, I’ve had a lot of things with Slutty Sam Winchester.  If you know what I mean.”

Dean’s jaw twitched, but he brushed it aside and tried to bite out words.  “Do you know where I can find his dorm?”

“Just look on the bathroom stalls for his number.”

“Yes,” Dean ground out, “but I’m trying to find his dorm.”

“Oh, wanna surprise him?”

“Yeah.”  Dean paused.  “ … Wait, no, no, that sounds really rapey in context.”

“Hey.”  Brad was pulling out his smartphone.  “You wanna see a video?”

The color drained out of Dean’s face.  “ … What… video.”

“He let me tape it once when I was fucking him.”  Brad gave Dean a knowing smile.  “I can tell you wanna see it.”

The color rushed back into Dean’s face so fast it almost hurt.  “I – I absolutely do not want to see – ”

Brad stepped next to Dean and showed him the smartphone with a grin.  “Here.”

Dean’s words died in his throat.  The small smartphone screen showed a scene that was poorly lit and grainy, but it was still very clearly sex.  Brad must have been holding the phone and pointing it down his body, recording the slow slide of his cock in and out of –

– in and out of the fucking roundest ass Dean had ever seen.

Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away.  It couldn’t be Sam.  Because if it was Sam, then Dean was in a whole world of trouble for the fact that his cock was swelling in his jeans.  But there was no face in the video, no identifying marks, not even a clear view of the bottom’s genitals.  All Dean could see was that round, soft ass and a few inches of toned lower back, and that thick cock sliding in inch by inch until it was completely sheathed, pulling back out and pumping in.  Dean could see Brad’s hand grab one cheek and pull it aside, showing off the pink stretch of that hole, squeezing so tight –

Dean made a noise like he’d been kicked between the legs when the completely nameless person in the video pressed their hips back eagerly, that tight ass swallowing up inch after inch of cock –

And then the person in the video groaned and Dean’s heart jumped into his throat because that was Sam’s voice.

Which meant that was Sam’s ass getting stretched open on a basketball player’s cock.

Brad started thrusting faster, a soft slap slap slap of flesh on flesh, and the groans kicked up into thin, pitiful whines.  Dean’s cock throbbed when the bottom – fuck, Sam – reached back and grabbed his own cheeks, spreading them, inviting Brad in and giving Dean a perfect view of how stuffed he was.  It suddenly clicked in Dean’s mind that there was no condom involved here, that his little baby Sammy was letting some jock ride him bare.  Which means he might have let all those guys in the locker room fuck him without protection too, letting one cock after another shoot its load inside him –

“Like what you see?”

Dean almost jumped out of his skin and lurched away from Brad.  “Mnotgay,” he stammered out quickly in response to the smug grin on the athlete’s face.

“Really?  Cause you seem pretty into this.”  Brad cocked an eyebrow and looked Dean over in a way that made his heart flip.  “You’re hot, you know.  I’d be glad to sneak back to the locker rooms with you and – ”

“Touch me and I will take you to the ground in a completely heterosexual way,” Dean said flatly.

Brad backed up.  “Fine, geez, just offering.”

“Can you please… ”  Dean blew out a long breath.  “ … Just tell me where his dorm is.  And not talk about his ass any more.”

Pretty slutty bubble butt bouncing on a thick cock –

“Yeah, sure, I’ll walk you there – ”

“Just give me the damn room number.”

“ … Fine.  Spoilsport.”

—-

Dean had to take a few deep breaths as he stood in front of Sam’s dorm room door.  He could hear bustling around inside, so he knew Sam was in.  And he knew from the faded yellow construction-paper-and-crayola-marker name tag on the door that this room belonged to only Sam.

Dean remembered his brother as a gangly, messy-haired, nerdy teenage boy.  And he prayed to god that was all he would find when the door opened.

Dean exhaled slowly, lifted his hand, and knocked on the door three times.

There was more shuffling inside and then the door opened and Dean’s shaggy-haired, stupidly tall little brother was blinking at him in surprise.

Dean managed a smile.  “Hey, Sammy.”

“Dean!”  Sam dragged him into a hug that Dean eagerly returned.  “What – what are you doing here?”

“Missed my little brother,” Dean explained, giving Sam a firm pat on the back and pulling back to look at him.  Sam was grinning broadly, sweet and innocent as ever.  Dean grinned back.  There was no fuckin’ way.  Everyone was lying, the number on the wall was wrong, the video was someone else.  He’d been an idiot to think that his Sam would be like that.

Sam opened the door all the way and said, “Hey, come on in.”

Dean followed Sam in, still looking him over.  Sam was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of shorts.  Hardly the mesh top and miniskirt that Dean had been half-expecting.  It looked like Sam had kept on working out after leaving for college, because he was more toned than Dean remembered.  His room seemed neat, distressingly so for a college freshman, aside from the papers and open textbooks scattered across his desk.

“You should have told me you were coming!” Sam insisted as he closed the door.  “I would have done some cramming so I wouldn’t be busy when you arrived.”

Dean twitched at the word cramming but managed to keep a straight face.  “Yeah, well, you always worked too hard, little brother.  You’re taking a day off, doctor’s orders.”

Sam snorted and walked over to his desk, bookmarking the textbooks with sheets of notes and closing them.  “ … Fine, but only because I’m ahead anyway.”

Dean looked around.  “You got anything to drink here?”

Sam peered over his shoulder disapprovingly.  “Dean, I’m nineteen.”

“So?  I’ve seen you drink before.”

“I mean – sometimes I do – But I can’t keep it in my dorm or I’ll get in trouble!”

Dean just shook his head and chuckled.  Good to see Sam was still a goody two-shoes.  He clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder as Sam put his notes away.  “Come on, we’re buying booze.  On me.”

“On your fake credit cards, you mean,” Sam said dryly.

“There’s the bitch I missed.”

“Jerk.”

—-

The sky was starting to darken as they walked across campus to the nearest booze shop.  For a while, Dean was floating.  He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed his little brother, or how good it was just to be around him again.  Like a piece of him that had been missing was now neatly back where it should be.

But the lovely floating sensation began to fade when people began saying hi to Sam.

The first one was a girl with big dark eyes that they almost bumped into as they walked through a door.

“Oh – hi, Madison,” Sam said.

Madison hugged her books to her chest and gave Sam a smile that was anything but chaste.  “Hi, Sam.”

She didn’t say anything else, but Dean was positive that she checked out Sam’s ass as they walked away.

—-

Madison wasn’t the only one to greet Sam.  Everywhere they went, Dean could see heads turning to follow Sam’s stride.  He could see students nudging each other and whispering, grinning.  And loads of people would call out to Sam as he walked by.

“Hey, Sam!”

“What’s up, Sam?”

“Looking good, Sam!”

Sam responded to all of them with the same innocent cheerfulness, like everyone was just being an especially friendly neighbor that day.  It was slowly driving Dean mad.  There was a complete disconnect between the predatory looks people gave his little brother and the happy smiles and waves that Sam gave them in return.  It was as if everyone knew Sam was a slut except for Sam.  It got to the point where Dean honestly couldn’t tell if Sam really was sleeping with half the school, or if half the school was under some sort of collective delusion that they had slept with Sam.

When a tall, scruffy-faced frat boy in a sports jacket openly leered at Sam as they passed, Dean actually growled and grabbed Sam’s arm, fingers digging into his brother’s bicep.

Sam gave him a startled look.  “What?”

The frat boy was still eating Sam up with his eyes.  Dean seethed silently at the man and dragged Sam away.  “Nothing.  Let’s just keep going.”

By the time they got to the liquor store, Dean was tense and twitchy, his hand clenched possessively around Sam’s arm.  Sam gave him concerned looks, but otherwise didn’t comment.  They stepped into the liquor store, making the bell on the door chime.  Dean slowly let go of Sam’s arm as the door closed behind them.  They stepped into the store, and a burly, tattooed man with a shaved head waved at them from behind the counter.

“Well, hey there, kid,” he called to Sam.

Dean’s whole body went tense when Sam grinned sweetly and waved back, replying, “Hey, Mike.”

No.  Fucking.  Way.  That guy had to be in his late thirties at the least.  And he was all… nasty looking and covered in scars and tattoos.  Sam was nineteen.  There was no fucking way – 

Mr. Liquor Store leaned over the counter as Sam browsed the booze selection, and proceeded to give Sam one of the most obvious eyefucks Dean had ever seen.  Dean clenched his fists until the knuckles cracked.  He couldn’t stop the images from flashing through his mind.  It was too easy to picture his twinky little brother in this older man’s tattooed arms, those big calloused hands running over Sam’s lean body, pulling his clothes off, grabbing his tight teenage ass and fingering it while Sam whimpered –

“Dean, what do you want?”

Dean jumped at the sound of Sam’s voice.  Sam was giving him a questioning look, standing in front of the whiskey section.  Dean exhaled.  He was gonna need a stiff drink after this.

“U-uh – something hard.”

… Fucking fantastic choice of words.

“Whiskey fine?”

“Yeah.  Sure.”

Sam pulled a bottle off the shelf and brought it up to the counter, smiling at the tattooed clerk, who gave him a hungry smile in return.

“Well, well, can I get you anything else, little boy?”

Dean ground his teeth.

“Not today, Mike,” Sam replied.

“Still twenty-one years old, I assume?”

Sam pulled out his ID and slid it across the counter.  “Of course, sir.”

Mike picked up the ID and looked it over, glancing more at Sam than the card.  He held out the shiny bit of plastic and Sam took it, but instead of withdrawing his hand, Mike brushed his knuckles under Sam’s chin like he was petting a dog.  Dean had to clench his hands into shaking fists to keep from punching him in the face.

“Ah, just take it.  This one’s on me.”

“You sure, Mike?”

“Yeah.  If you’re feeling remorseful, you can pay me back later.”

“Sure, of course!”

Sam was beaming happily when he walked back to Dean with the bottle of whiskey.  “Ready to go?”

Dean was glaring daggers at the clerk.  “ … Yeah.  Let’s get out of here.”

—-

Dean didn’t know how he made it back to Sam’s dorm without killing someone.  It was just late enough in the evening that some people were already smashed.  Dean knew it was a Friday night, but damn.

When they rounded a building and came across three girls in cheerleader outfits leaning against the brick and chatting, Sam hesitated.

“Uh.”  It was hard to tell for sure in the dark, but Dean was pretty sure Sam was blushing.  “Let’s just – ”

“Hey, heeeeeey Sam.”

One of the girls was waving her fingers at Sam, a beer bottle dangling from the other hand while she leaned against the wall.  Dean’s jealousy ebbed for a moment as his eyes ran up her legs.

Sam raised a hand apprehensively and waved back.  “Um, hey, Zoe – ”

“Who’s your friend, Saaaaaam?  Wanna bring him along?”

One of the other girls giggled and the third smiled at Dean.  Sam cleared his throat and gave Dean’s jacket a tug, trying to lead him away.  “Uh – not tonight, Zoe – ”

“Come on, pretty boy, I’ll sit on your face again!  I know you love that!”

“Goodnight, Zoe,” Sam replied cheerfully, pulling a rubbernecking Dean away from the girls.  When the last miniskirt was out of sight, Dean spun back to face Sam so fast he almost got whiplash.

“You – ”  He gestured back at the girls.  “ – All of them – ”

Sam wasn’t looking at Dean, his face red.  “I’m really sorry about Zoe, she’s a sweetheart but she gets kind of, uh, honest when she drinks – ”

“Have you nailed all of those girls, Sam?  Answer the question, this is important.”

Sam fidgeted.  “ … Yeah.  Uh.  It was a sorority party and… apparently I was the only boy they invited.”  

They had reached Sam’s dorm building.  Sam swiped them in and opened the door for Dean before continuing.

“ … Apparently this was intentional.  Which I didn’t find out until after I arrived.”

“An – entire – sorority.”

“Nah, a few girls hung back.”  Sam gestured.  “I mean, Alice is gay, so she didn’t – ”

“Sam, almost an entire sorority is still – how do you even – ”

“Oh, it wasn’t all of them at once!”  Sam opened the door to his dorm and let Dean inside.  “I mean, they kind of… took… turns.  Um.  On me.”

Dean stepped into Sam’s dorm and set the whiskey bottle down on the desk.  He stared at Sam quietly as his brother closed the door.  “ … Kind of like the basketball team, huh?”

Sam went rigid, still facing the door.  Then he sighed.  “ … You’ve been asking around campus.”

Dean crossed his arms.  “Didn’t take very long to hear some interesting stories.  Seems like I’m the last to know.”

“You don’t have to know, you’re my brother.”

Dean opened the whiskey and took a sip straight from the bottle while Sam shuffled his feet awkwardly.  Then he thunked the bottle back down on the table and beckoned Sam over.  “Okay, come over here.”

Sam frowned.  “ … What for?”

Dean scowled walked over to Sam, grabbing his shoulder and dragging him to the bed.  “Sit,” he ordered, pushing Sam down on it.

Sam sat.

Dean crossed his arms, glaring down at his little brother.  “Look, Sam, I know I slept around a lot when we were kids and I know you saw a lot of it – ”

Sam frowned.  “Dean, that’s not why – ”

“Shut up, I’m not done.”

Sam closed his mouth sullenly.

“Okay.  I know I slept around a lot but I never did it without protection.  I thought I taught you better than that.”

Sam glared at Dean for a moment, then dropped his gaze to the carpet.  “ … So, I guess they… um… ”

“Yeah, they told me,” Dean snapped.  No need to confess right now to the visual evidence he’d been shown.

Sam sighed.  He reached for the desk and picked up the bottle of whiskey, taking a long sip before beginning.  “Okay, I know it looks bad, but – ”

“Bad?  Sam, if even one of your partners had an STD, then not only do you have it, you could have given it to everyone you slept with after that!”

“I know that!” Sam snapped.  He took another sip and screwed the lid back on, replying smugly, “That’s why I looked up a spell for STD protection.  I’m herpes-proof.  Can’t get infected, can’t be a carrier.”

Dean frowned for a moment, then snatched the whiskey away from Sam and took a long sip of his own.

Sam raised a hand.  “Got another spell so I don’t knock up any of the girls.  Most of them say they’re on the pill, but I’m not taking any chances.  I’m not ready to be a daddy.”

Dean took another sip of whiskey.  His head was starting to buzz.  “You’ve got one though, huh?”

Sam blinked.  Dean took another sip of whiskey and Sam snatched the bottle away.  “What?”

“A daddy.  You’ve got a daddy.  Mr. Liquor Store sure seemed to like you, little boy,” Dean sneered.

Sam’s face went red and he took a short sip of whiskey before putting it back on the desk as if trying to distance it from himself.  After a moment, he licked his lips and managed, “L-look, he’s actually an all right guy, and he’s – ”

“What, good with his hands?” Dean drawled.

The startled, embarrassed look on Sam’s face told Dean that Mr. Liquor Store was good with his hands.  Dean snatched the bottle back and took a sip.

“That’s why you get booze even though you’re underage, huh?” he asked heatedly.

“No!  I mean – I’ve got a fake ID and it’s really convincing – made it just how Dad taught us – and I think he suspects I’m underage and wants to pretend I’m not when I’m buying and pretend I am when – ”  Sam choked himself off and snatched the bottle back from Dean, downing more whiskey.

Dean’s hands clenched.  “Pretend you’re underage when what?”

Sam stared guiltily into the whiskey bottle.  Dean grabbed Sam’s chin and made his little brother look up, tipsy-bright cheeks and whiskey-slick lips.

“When he’s fucking you?”

“Dean – ”

“He’s probably twice as old as you!”

“He’s a decent guy and he’s never done something I didn’t want!”

Dean realized he was panting slightly, from anger or from the booze or from the images in his head, he wasn’t sure.  He was still grabbing Sam’s chin, and Sam was letting him, looking up at him with those big hazel eyes.  Sweet little brother.  Sweet little brother that everyone and anyone was getting their hands on these days.  It chafed on Dean, more than he would have imagined possible, to think of all those people treating his baby brother like a…

The room was spinning a bit.  Dean’s grip on Sam’s chin loosened, and he ran his hand down his little brother’s neck.

Sometimes I count his hickeys.

Dean was glad that Sam’s neck was bruise-free right now.

“I don’t like it,” Dean blurted.

Sam blinked at him a few times.  He looked dizzy too.  “Don’ like what?”

“Everyone else.  Touching you.  You’re my little brother.”

Sam gave Dean a tipsy grin, cute and lopsided.  “C’mon, it’s not like I’m letting other people be my big brother.  That’s only you, Dean.”

The room rocked dangerously, but Sam’s words felt solid.  Dean swallowed.  “ … Yeah?”

“Yeah.”  Sam reached up and wrapped his hand around his brother’s, pressing it against his chest.  Over his heart.  “Only you, Dean.  Only big brother I’ve got.”

Dean could feel the thump of Sam’s heartbeat.  It was comforting.  He didn’t ever want to move his hand.

“I jus’ – I just like sex, okay?  I like – people, y’know?”  Sam was still talking, and Dean couldn’t look away from his lips.  “I like the energy and the – the intimacy and – and I know people call me a slut and they’re probably right, but it’s fine, Dean, I’m okay with me being a slut.”

I’m not.  Dean swallowed the words.

Sam chuckled and glanced at his knees, hair falling in his eyes.  “S’really good, you know, having someone else own you an’ push you around and use you, I jus’ like it a lot, Dean.  That’s why the basketball team and the sorority and Mike and – I like feelin’… used.”

I just used what he was offering.

Dean wasn’t sure how it happened.  He must have shoved Sam down on the bed because suddenly he was kneeling over his brother and Sam was panting up at him with wide, startled eyes.

“They don’t own you,” Dean said hotly.  “Nobody owns you.”  Except me.

Sam gave a little shudder.  “D-Dean… ”

Dean splayed his hand over Sam’s chest, over his pounding heart.  He closed his eyes and just listened to the th-thump th-thump of it, of Sam under him and safe and not being touched by anyone else.

The words weren’t supposed to ever pass his lips, not like this, but Dean was drunk and he couldn’t stop thinking about all the filthy things people had done to his little brother.  He ground out two syllables like he was writing them in stone.

“You’re mine.”

Sam’s chest swelled under Dean’s hand.  His heart was pounding so fast.  Dean leaned his head down until his forehead bumped against his brother’s, whispering words that were only supposed to be thoughts.

“My little brother.  My Sammy.  No one else gets to have you.  Only me.”

Sam’s lips barely moved, the words were scarcely more than a breath against Dean’s lips.  

Yes, sir.

Dean shuddered, digging his fingers into Sam’s chest for a second.  He leaned closer to Sam’s lips and hissed the word “Mine.”  Sam’s back arched, pressing his chest up against Dean’s hand, and he nodded fervently.  

Dean panted as he slid his hand down and shoved it under Sam’s shirt, finding his beating heart again.  Something itched at him, told him he was on thin ice, but he pushed the thought aside because his brother needed to be reclaimed.

Sam just stared up at him while Dean reached under his shirt.  Letting him.

Dean shuddered, bumping his nose against Sam’s and repeating the word mine.  He didn’t think he could say that enough times.  Sam’s bare chest was hot and smooth against his hand, firm with muscle.  Dean slid his hand across Sam’s chest slowly, his movements becoming harder and hungrier the longer Sam didn’t resist.  Dean pressed his face into Sam’s neck, panting as he ran his hand over his little brother.

Sometimes I count his hickeys.

No one else deserved to mark up Sam.  Dean rubbed his nose over Sam’s neck, panting against the soft skin.  Sam smelled like sweat, shampoo, and something that was just little brother.  Sam let out a thin whine and tilted his face away, exposing his neck for his big brother.  Like he was presenting himself.  Just for Dean.

“I… I want to… ”  Dean didn’t know where the words were coming from or where they were going.  The whiskey was buzzing in his veins and he had his Sam back, and that was all that mattered.  Everyone needed to know that Sam was his.  Dean sealed his lips over the side of Sam’s neck and sucked, making Sam’s back arch.

“D-Dean – ”  Sam was grabbing at the bedsheets, choking and gasping under his big brother.  Dean’s mouth moved up Sam’s neck, leaving sore pick marks that he hoped to god would bruise.  His hand was still under Sam’s shirt, running over every inch of his brother that he could reach, reminding himself that Sam was here with him.  It wasn’t until Sam started pushing at his hip and mumbling shaky words that Dean realized he was rock hard and pressing his erection against his brother’s leg.

“We sh-shouldn’t, Dean, stop, we shouldn’t… you’re my brother… ”

You’re my brother.  Dean pulled his hand out of Sam’s shirt and tangled it in his brother’s hair, making Sam look at him.

“Damn straight I’m your brother,” he panted.  “And you’re mine.”

Sam sounded breathless.  “D-Dean, this is – we need to stop – ”

When Dean tightened his hand in Sam’s hair, Sam moaned and the pressure of his hand on Dean’s hip slackened.

“Oh g-god, Dean, Dean – ”  

Dean tugged on Sam’s hair again and Sam’s struggles died off completely.

“F-fuck, Dean, I sh-shouldn’t – ”

Dean tugged again and Sam fell silent with a desperate whine.  It was addictive, how easily Sam surrendered to him, like Sam wanted nothing more than to give himself over completely.  Without thinking, almost without realizing he was doing it, Dean slid a shaking hand between their bodies and found his own erection, squeezing it.  It was like fireworks went off behind his eyes and he groaned.

Sam seemed hypnotized by the sight.  “Oh – fuck, Dean – ”

Dean held still there, grabbing Sam’s hair with one hand and his own cock with the other, panting at his brother.  This was wrong, he knew this was wrong.  He and Sam were in fucking dangerous territory right now and it was making his heart race and his vision sway, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this horny, or this in love, and Sam – fuck, Sam looked like he was about to cream his shorts just from having his hair pulled.

Dean knew it was a terrible idea to slide his hand between Sam’s legs, but he did it anyway.

“Dean!”  Sam’s gasp of surprise dissolved into a moan when Dean squeezed, and he – oh fuck – he spread his legs wide for Dean’s hand, submissive and inviting.  “Oh g-g-god – ”

Dean licked his lips and tried not to think about the fact that he was grabbing his brother’s cock, tried not to think about what that meant.  He rolled onto the bed next to Sam, watching the little twitches of pleasure on his brother’s face as his hand worked.  It was a familiar motion, knead and squeeze through the shorts, the hard ridge of (brother’s) cock through the thin fabric hot against his hand.

“S’big, Sam,” he panted against Sam’s neck.

Sam whimpered and pressed his hips up against Dean’s hand.  “Oh god, Dean, please… ”

Dean swallowed and chewed his lip before letting go of Sam’s cock and sliding his hand under the waistband of his brother’s shorts.  He shuddered when his fingertips found the smooth, firm heat of Sam’s cock, and Sam grabbed at the sheets.

“D-Dean, oh god, we sh-shouldn’t do this… ” 

“Don’ wanna stop,” Dean panted into Sam’s neck.  He curled his fingers slowly around Sam’s cock, feeling the weight of it in his hand.  “God…  Sammy… ”

Sam’s long limbs were sprawled across the bed as his brother slowly jerked him off, grabbing at anything he could reach, panting open-mouthed at the ceiling.  Dean watched him, enraptured.  It was so satisfying, making Sam come apart like this under his hand.  It wasn’t right that everyone but him should be able to do this.

Dean licked his lips and slid his hand lower down, fondling Sam’s balls.  He shivered at the smooth skin that greeted his fingertips.

“You shave,” he remarked softly, lips brushing over Sam’s neck.

Sam nodded meekly, nudging his legs even further apart as Dean’s hand slid lower.  Sam was shaking.  Dean knew he was crossing line after line and just kept charging towards the next, he knew this was wrong and sick and incestuous, but he couldn’t make himself stop.  It was Sam.  He had to.  Dean pressed a finger into the hot crease of Sam’s ass and closed his eyes, groaning softly.  Fuck, he could feel Sam’s tight little hole against his fingertip, hot and clenched.

And slick.

Suddenly angry, Dean bit at his brother’s neck, making him whine.  “Someone fuck you today?” he growled.

Sam swallowed, his throat bobbing against Dean’s lips.  “ … Y-yes �� ”

“Who?”

“Someone you don’t know, she’s in my English class – ”

Dean didn’t want to hear any more.  He pressed his finger harder against the wet heat of Sam’s hole and Sam fell silent with a whine.  Dean froze there, one finger pressed against his brother’s asshole, panting against the hickeys he’d left on Sam’s neck.

“D-Dean?”  Sam shivered, licking his lips nervously.  “Are… are you gonna… ”

Dean shuddered and choked out “fuck” between his clenched teeth.  His finger twitched against Sam’s hole.

Sam whimpered.  “ … G-god… w-we shouldn’t do this… we’re brothers, we shouldn’t do this… ”

“Do you want me to?” Dean panted fervently.

Sam pressed his hips up, easing the tip of Dean’s finger into his hole.  “F-fuck, Dean, I n-need it!”

Dean groaned and pushed his finger inside his little brother.  Sam cried out, grabbing at Dean’s shirt with one shaking hand.

“Oh god oh god you’re in me, my brother’s in me, oh god I’m – I’m so f-fucked… ”

Sam’s hole was fucked-loose, messy with lube inside, like it had been pumped into him straight from the bottle.  Dean probed around, fingering his brother like he would finger a girl.  He’d expected this to feel weird, different, because it was a man he was touching instead of a woman, but this…  Dean pressed his finger in up to the knuckle, wiggling it inside his brother, and Sam squirmed.  This felt just like any other tight, wet hole that he was dying to bury himself inside.

Dean flinched in surprise when he felt a desperate hand groping at his erection, feeling it through the denim.

“F-fuck, Dean… ”  Sam panted as he worked Dean’s zipper open with a shaking hand.  “Please… ”

Please stop.  Please keep going.  He could hear both in Sam’s voice.  Dean pushed another finger in, groaning at how easily Sam took them.  Sam’s hand slid into his brother’s jeans, finding his hard cock and tugging it eagerly.  Sam whimpered, pushing his hips down against his brother’s hand.

“Fuck,” Sam panted, “fuck, this is so fucking wrong… ”

Dean shivered when Sam’s hand curled around the base of his cock and tugged up the length.  Sam’s hand worked him hungrily, eagerly, fraying what little self-control he had left.  Dean panted into Sam’s neck, biting at the lobe of his ear.  “Fuck, S-Sammy – ”

Sam whimpered, jerking his brother off while he was fingered.  Dean knew how filthy this was, how wrong, but he couldn’t stop, not when it felt this fucking good.  Every twist of Sam’s hand over the head of his cock made him see stars.

“Take your pants off,” Dean hissed in Sam’s ear, pushing in a third finger, making Sam stretch.

Sam slid his shaking hand off of Dean’s cock and grabbed the waistline of his shorts, trembling as he tugged them down.  He stopped with a whine when Dean’s fingers thrust.

“Dean, oh fuck – ”

“Keep going, Sammy, take ‘em off.”

Sam nodded, breathing hard as Dean’s fingers pumped in him.  He dragged the shorts as far down as he could, his cock springing up against his stomach, leaking.  Dean swallowed at the sight.  He pulled his slick fingers out of Sam’s hole so he could grab that thick cock, giving it a slow jerk while Sam struggled with his pants.  Sam finally pulled his knees up to his chest to take them off, and Dean sat up suddenly, staring between his brother’s legs at the view.

“Oh – fuck – Sammy – ”

Sam’s face was red and he seemed frozen, shorts caught around his knees, legs pulled up to his chest.  Dean had an unobstructed view of his pink, smooth balls and his round ass and that hot, slick, inviting hole –

Dean grabbed the backs of Sam’s legs with a growl, pinning them against his chest and leaning over him.  Sam choked in alarm.

“D-Dean?” he stammered, eyes wide as he stared up at his brother.

Dean grunted and managed to wrench Sam’s shorts off of one leg, spreading his brother wide and slotting himself between those fit thighs.

Sam pressed a hand over his mouth and made a strangled noise when Dean pulled down his open jeans, letting his cock spring loose.  “Oh fuck – oh fuck you’re gonna – ”

“Want you,” Dean panted against Sam’s lips.  “Want you, Sammy… ”  He pressed the head of his cock against the soft warmth of Sam’s hole and bit his tongue.  “Oh god… ”

He could feel the heat of his brother’s entrance.  Sam was staring up at him wide-eyed, breathless, not making a move or saying a word to stop him.  Dean chewed his lip, rubbing the head of his cock back and forth over Sam’s hole, smearing precome over it.  He was shaking slightly.

Fuck.  He’d just wanted to pay his freshman little brother a visit in college.  And somehow he’d ended up here, between his little brother’s legs, with his jeans tugged down so he could press the head of his cock against little Sammy’s hole.

“D-Dean… ”  Sam licked his lips, his hole clenching against the head of Dean’s cock.  “Are… are you gonna… ”

“Christ I’m going to hell,” Dean spilled out against Sam’s lips, shivering.  He nudged at Sam’s hole, feeling the heat of it start to open up around him…

“Oh god… ”  Sam’s lips brushed over his, and fuck if that didn’t feel just as forbidden as Sam’s tight little hole starting to wrap around the tip of his cock.  “Dean… ”

Dean could taste the whiskey on Sam’s breath.  He pressed his hand gently over Sam’s chest, over his brother’s pounding heart.  Sammy.  He slid his hand down slowly, over that tense stomach, finding Sam’s cock and wrapping his fingers around it.  Then he sealed his mouth over his brother’s and rocked his hips forward, sliding his cock inside.

Sam muffled a frantic noise against Dean’s mouth as his brother’s cock penetrated him, pushing into his body.  Dean groaned loudly, giving Sam’s cock a slow jerk.  His heart was pounding so fast that he felt lightheaded, nothing but shivering tingles from head to toe.  Sam was heaven around his cock, nice tight ass squeezing him just right, an absolute mess of lube inside.  Dean groaned and pushed in harder, forcing Sam’s legs to spread even wider and pressing his balls up against his brother’s ass.

When he pulled his mouth away from Sam’s to take a breath, Sam gasped Dean’s name and grabbed at his jacket.  His face was flushed, his lips wet and pink from the kiss, and he gasped again when Dean pulled his cock back a few inches and thrust back in.

“Oh god yes, Dean, fuck, Dean – ”

Dean rolled his hips, pumping into his little brother.  Sam grabbed at Dean’s back and cried out, legs in the air as his brother fucked him.  Dean panted into Sam’s neck, still grabbing his brother’s cock and squeezing, tugging –

“Dean, nooooooo, god, I’m gonna – Dean – you’re gonna make me – ”  Sam squirmed, squeezing around his brother’s thick cock as it slicked in and out of his body.  “D-Dean, I’m gonna come!”

Dean groaned and thrust harder, balls bumping against Sam’s ass with each deep thrust.  “Do it, god, do it, Sammy, wanna – wanna see it, wanna feel it – ”

Sam’s used hole had felt so loose and inviting around Dean’s fingers, he had no idea how his brother was suddenly so tight.  Sam was clenching around Dean’s cock as if begging for more, his hole squeezing nice and snug as Dean fucked into it.  Dean groaned and ground his hips down, pressed flush against his brother’s body, making quick, shallow humps that kept him buried in his brother.

“Wanna – wanna come in you, Sammy,” Dean panted against his little brother’s neck.

Sam’s whole body shuddered.  He grabbed at Dean’s back, holding him close, fingers digging into the leather of his jacket.  “Oh god oh god oh god please fucking do it – ”

Sam’s cock was throbbing in Dean’s hand, slick at the tip with precome.  It bounced each time Dean thrust into him.

Sam pressed his face into Dean’s neck, wrapping his legs around Dean and pulling him in.  Oh fuck, the noises he made, whimpers and moans and desperate gasps, it unraveled Dean, made him thrust so hard that the bed rocked, springs squeaking and frame creaking.  Dean’s hips slapped against Sam’s round ass each time he stuffed his cock into his little brother –

Sam shouted something incoherent and his cock pulsed in Dean’s hand when he came.  Dean jerked him through it, chanting Sam’s name and pumping into his stuffed little hole while Sam writhed.

Sam was grabbing at Dean’s hair with one shaking hand.  “Oh god, are you g-gonna come in me, Dean?  You gonna – gonna come in your little brother?”

Dean was embarrassed by how fast he came.  He gasped wide-eyed as the pleasure hit him like a freight train, his cock pulsing inside Sam and filling his little brother up.

It felt like a decade before he caught his breath.  He could feel Sam panting against his neck, his breath warm and damp and comforting.  Dean finally grunted as he pulled his softening cock out of Sam’s body and flopped on the bed next to him, staring at the dorm ceiling and breathing slowly.

This was the part where he should fling himself out of bed.  He should pull his pants up and storm out the door and get on the road and drive away, and pray to god that Sam was too drunk to remember this had happened.  He ought to mumble something about how he’d fucked up and he was sorry and he’d never do that to Sam again.  He ought to let Sam finish college in peace.

But… the bed was so warm.  And Sam’s soft breathing was so soothing, a slow inhale-exhale pattern that wouldn’t let an ounce of tension find a foothold in Dean’s mind.  He searched for the regret and the disgust and the self-loathing, but it wasn’t there.  Just the gentle touch of Sam’s fingers weaving between his.

Sam was the first one to break the silence with an uneasy mumble.  “ … I’m a little surprised you’re still here.”

Dean managed a laugh, squeezing Sam’s hand in his.  “Yeah.  Me too.”

“Does that mean… you… ”

Dean rolled his head to the side, meeting Sam’s eyes.  Sam licked his lips anxiously.  When Dean opened his mouth to answer, Sam interrupted.

“Don’t leave.”

He squeezed Dean’s hand harder when he said it, as if trying to hold his brother in place.  Dean doubted that Sam realized how effective it was.  If he’d felt lethargic before, now he felt locked in place by the desperate grip of those fingers.

“I’ve been apart from you too long already.  Just… don’t leave because of this.  Please.”

Dean closed his mouth, then smiled.  He rolled over and brushed his fingertips over Sam’s jaw.  “Hey.  Never again, little brother.”

Dean had enough unpleasantness in his life.  He wasn’t about to throw away something that felt this good.  Not when it made Sam smile like that, sweet and happy and bright as the fucking sun cresting the horizon.  Nothing that made Sam smile like that could be wrong.

Sam rubbed his nose against Dean’s, closing his eyes and letting out a relieved sigh.  Dean was about to grab his brother and kiss him, hard and deep, but Sam started talking.

“So, uh… you really don’t like the fact that I… ”

Dean blinked.  “What, sleep around?”

Sam nodded.

“Sammy, it’s not like that… I just hadn’t seen you in so long.  Felt like I’d… kinda lost you.”  He ruffled Sam’s hair, like he’d done when they were kids.  “Knowing that so many other people got to be close to you… ”  He licked his lips.  “I needed you to remember that… ”

Sam covered Dean’s hand in his and dragged it over his heart.  “I got it, Dean.”

Dean managed a tired smile.

“I’m yours, right?”

“Yeah.  Just wish everyone knew that.”

The smile faded from Sam’s face.  “It’s Friday night.  I know where the nearest party is.”

Dean’s grin evaporated.  For a moment, he and Sam just stared at each other.

That’s when they flung themselves out of bed.

—-

Dark had fallen over Stanford’s campus.  It looked a lot less dumpy to Dean now that he could walk across it with his arm possessively wrapped around Sam’s waist.

The peaceful studiers of daytime Stanford had evacuated their sunny benches, replaced by the first flutters of night life.  The campus was riddled with students in a state of unwinding, chatting and laughing, not a textbook to be seen.  As Sam and Dean passed a group of guys talking under a lamp post, Dean caught one of the guys running his eyes up and down Sam’s body.  This time, instead of having to content himself with glares, Dean gave the man a savage grin and grabbed Sam’s ass hard enough to make his brother yelp.  The man who had been staring let out a disappointed snort and turned back to his friends.

“I like this,” Dean hissed into Sam’s neck.  “Everyone knows you’re mine tonight.”

Sam whined, keeping his hands obediently by his sides as Dean groped his ass.  HIs whole body radiated submission.  Dean gave Sam’s ass a gentle pat.

“You look like you’ve got your tail between your legs, Sammy,” he teased.

Sam shuddered.  “J-just your hand.”

“You always could pull off puppydog eyes.”  Dean stroked his hand under Sam’s chin.  “Huh.  I should get my baby brother a collar.”

Sam swallowed hard.

—-

The party was packed.  Dean kept his hand sealed over Sam’s ass so no one else would be tempted to cop a feel.

“Heeeeey, Sam.” 

Sam turned, and Dean followed.  A girl with silky-dark hair was draped around a tall guy that Dean recognized as one of the basketball players.  They were both smiling at Sam.

“Come play with me and Randy, Sam,” the girl begged.  “I miss seeing him fuck your face.”

“Yeah, and I miss seeing her ride your dick.”

Dean smiled at the couple and calmly slipped his hand down the back of Sam’s pants.  Sam’s face went red.

“Sorry, kids.  He’s mine.”

The girl bit her knuckle eagerly, but Randy frowned.  “And who are you?”

Dean slipped his finger into the crease of Sam’s ass.  Sam shivered.  “H-he’s – he’s my b– ”

“I’m his boyfriend,” Dean interrupted.

The girl squeaked, but Randy looked deeply skeptical.  Dean nuzzled under Sam’s hair and gave his neck a kiss.

“Little Sammy misses me when I don’t visit.”

The girl laughed.  “Wow, you must be his boyfriend.  He doesn’t let anyone call him Sammy.”

Randy raised an eyebrow.  “Uh… no offense, man, but your boyfriend’s a bit of a slut.”

Dean pressed the tip of his finger into Sam’s come-slick hole and Sam whined.  Dean grinned.  “Damn straight he is.  If you’ll excuse me, I need to go fuck him again.  He gets so needy if he doesn’t get a cock in his ass every five minutes.”

Sam clenched around Dean’s finger.

“Oh, don’t let us keep you,” the girl urged, tugging on her boyfriend’s arm and leading him away with a disappointed look on his face.

Sam turned back to Dean with a red face.  “D-Dean – ”

“Hush, Sammy, you’ve still got three more years to spend here,” Dean murmured, cupping Sam’s face with one hand and working his finger in with the other.  He leaned close to Sam’s ear and whispered, “It’s fine, no one’s gotta know we’re brothers.  I don’t want people giving you crap for it.  It’ll be our little secret until you graduate, hm?”

Sam chewed his lip and nodded as Dean fingered him.  “ … Y-yeah.  I guess.”

“Now come on, slut, I need to show everyone who you belong to.”

Dean managed to drag Sam through the crowd until they found a chair in the corner of the room.  He sat down on it and pulled Sam onto his lap.

Sam was already breathing hard, his cock hard and obvious in his shorts.  “D-Dean – ”

Dean smirked and slid both of his hands down the back of Sam’s pants, grabbing his ass in full view of the room.  “Pull these down for me, baby.”

“Oh – fuck – ”

Sam grabbed the hem of his shorts and started tugging them down.  He stopped with a whine when the crease of his ass started to peek out.  “Fuck… ”

Dean cupped Sam’s face.  “Too much, Sammy?”

“N-no, god, want you to do it in front of everyone… ”  Sam pulled his shorts down further, panting against Dean’s neck, exposing his ass to the room.  He shuddered when Dean squeezed.  “Oh g-god – ”

“You’re gonna give this party such a nice show, aren’t you, Sammy?”

“Y-yes sir… ”

Dean groaned and his hips jerked.  “Fuck, Sammy, so fucking obedient… ”

Dean rubbed his finger over Sam’s hole, nipping at his brother’s neck.  Sam was whimpering into Dean’s hair, keeping his face buried.  Dean could see people staring, greedily eating up the sight of Sam’s bare ass in his hands, giving him looks ranging from approving to envious.

Dean kissed Sam’s neck.  “People are lookin’ at you, Sammy.  They all wish they were in my place.”

Sam’s hands clenched on Dean’s shoulders.  “F-fuck – ”

“You like getting fucked in front of a crowd, don’t you?  Like having an audience?”

“Y-yes!”

“I bet they’d all like to take a turn with you.  Pass you around like a party favor, let everyone use your slutty ass and mouth and cock.”  Dean pushed two fingers into Sam’s come-slick hole, in full view of the room.  Someone wolf whistled and Dean grinned.  “But you’re mine tonight, Sammy.  Only I’m gonna use you.  And everyone else is gonna watch.”

Sam’s fingers were digging into Dean’s jacket.  “Oh fuck yes, fuck fuck fuck – ”

Dean slicked his fingers in and out slowly.  “Why don’t you get my cock out?  I know you’re dying to ride it.”

Sam nodded and fumbled at Dean’s pants, whimpering as his brother fingered him.

“Wish I could tell them,” he whispered low and heated in Dean’s ear.  “Wish they all knew that my big brother was the one fucking me.”

Dean groaned and squeezed his brother’s ass.  “Sammy… ”

Sam pulled Dean’s cock out of his pants, touching and tugging it like he couldn’t keep his hands off.  He kept whispering into Dean’s neck as he jerked his brother off.  “I want them all to know I’m yours, that my tough big brother owns me and no one gets to have me like you do.”

Dean hesitated, rubbing his hand in a circle over Sam’s ass.  “ … That true, Sammy?”

Sam kissed Dean’s neck.  “ … Never had sex in my dorm bed until tonight.  Anywhere else, but not in my room.  It’s my space, my private area.  You just… you belong in my space, Dean.”

Dean nuzzled Sam’s neck, then bit at his ear.  “Graduation gift,” he murmured.  “I’ll take you to a party just like this and you can introduce me to everyone as your big brother.  Then I’ll bend you over and make you scream in front of everyone.”

Sam’s hand fisted in Dean’s hair, the other squeezing his cock.  “F-fuck – ”

Dean grabbed Sam’s hips and lifted him, and Sam positioned Dean’s cock against his hole obediently.  Someone in the crowd cheered and Sam shivered.

“Sit on it, slut,” Dean breathed against the pit of Sam’s throat.  “Ride that cock for the audience.”

Sam whimpered and pushed his hips down slowly, letting the head of Dean’s cock slip into him.  Someone catcalled.  Sam whimpered and shifted his hips, tensing around Dean’s cock.  Dean groaned and grabbed Sam’s hips, slamming his little brother down on his cock and drawing a startled gasp from him.

“D-Dean –!”

“Fuck, there’s a good boy,” Dean groaned into Sam’s neck, thrusting up into him slowly and grabbing his round ass.  The crowd must be getting a killer view.  Sam’s hole was clenched so fucking tight around him, and he knew everyone could see it stuffed full of his cock.

Sam had his face buried in Dean’s neck, panting out a stream of breathless words as his brother’s dick pumped up into him.  “Oh god fuck everyone can see fuck fuck they’re all watching you fuck me oh god they’re all watching my big brother fuck me – ”

Dean grabbed Sam hard, already breathless from the hot squeeze of Sam around his cock.  “Fuck, you feel so good… ”

His hold on Sam’s hips was becoming less and less necessary.  Sam was moving on his own, lifting and pushing and rolling his hips, riding his big brother’s cock like a pro.  Dean’s head fell back and he panted, eyes closed as Sam kissed his neck and rode him.  “Fucking hell, Sammy… ”

“Th-they’re all watching me, Dean, fuck, I can feel their eyes on me… ”

“S’cause you’re a pretty slut, Sammy, you look so damn good riding a cock.”  Dean groaned and squeezed his brother’s round ass as it slid up and down his shaft.  “Fuck, bet they all think they’re about to get a turn with this sweet hole.  But there’s no fuckin’ way I’m pulling out of you, Sammy, wanna be buried in you all night.”

Sam pushed his hips down hard, whimpering as Dean pressed deep inside him.  “F-fuck… ”

“They think I’m gonna just hand you out like a toy for everyone to play with.”  Dean nipped Sam’s neck.  “You think I’m gonna do that, Sam?”

“ … N-no, sir.  I’m y-yours.”

Dean rubbed his hand in a circle over Sam’s ass, then gave it a gentle smack.  “Good boy.”

Sam clenched at the spank, pressing his face into Dean’s neck and shaking.  Dean laughed and smacked his brother’s ass again.

“Like that, Sammy?”

“D-Dean!”

“Big, round, slutty ass, I should have been able to tell you’d want it spanked.”

“Oh god, please… ”

Sam had been tense and tight around Dean before, but with each spank he squeezed even harder, letting out a gasp after each slap.  Dean started jerking his hips up to meet Sam’s movements, slamming up into his little brother and making him cry out.

“Oh god, p-please come in me, sir, d-do it in front of everyone, I’ll be so good for you, please – ”

That was the final fucking straw.  Dean buried his face in Sam’s neck and groaned loudly as his cock throbbed inside Sam, pulsing a second load of come into him.  He could feel Sam’s breath against his neck, “Oh god, that’s it, please, give me all of it… ”

Dean let out a long breath when his cock stopped twitching.  His hands tightened around Sam’s hips and he pulled his brother snug into his lap, keeping his cock buried.

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” he whispered into Sam’s ear, reaching between their bodies to find his brother’s cock, swollen and needy.  “You’re going to sit on my dick until it’s hard again, and if anyone comes by and asks for a turn, you’re going to tell them that you’re mine, that they can look but they can’t touch.  When you feel my cock stiffening inside you, you’re gonna ride it again, because my sweet little slut deserves at least three loads of come in his ass.”

From Sam’s breathless, choked noise and from the way his cock throbbed in Dean’s hand, he liked the plan.

—-

Dean blinked awake in the morning light.  He frowned.  This was one tiny-ass motel bed.  And why were there books everywhere?

Then his brain registered the warm, comforting smell enveloping him as Sam.  And he remembered last night.

Dean rolled over gently in the bed, only to find an awake Sam staring at him and smiling.

“Morning,” Sam mumbled.

Dean reached his arms above his head and stretched, snorting good-naturedly.  “Were you watching me sleep?  Creepy, Sammy.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Dean huffed out a breath as he let his arms relax and flopped them back by his sides.  He slung an arm around Sam’s waist, pulling him close and kissing him.

“I have to get on the road,” he murmured against Sam’s lips.

Sam sighed in disappointment, pressing his body up against Dean’s.  “Got a job?”

“I told Dad I’d meet him today.  I’m sorry.  I wanna stay.”

“Yeah, I know.”  Sam kissed Dean again, then rolled out of bed.

As they got dressed, Sam cleared his throat.  

“You’d better visit.  A lot.  I’m serious, Dean.”

Dean snickered.  “You always are.  I’ll come by at least once a month.”

Sam hesitated, staring at the shirt in his hands but not making a move to pull it on.  He let out a breath, and it sounded resolved.  “I’ll… I’ll wait for you.”

“Yeah, don’t go running off to any other colleges while I’m gone – ”

“No, Dean, I mean… I’ll wait for you.”  Sam looked at him.  “If you want me to.  I won’t like it, but I’ll… I’ll just focus on my studies and not… ”

Dean hesitated with one leg shoved down his pants.  “ … Sam, are you offering to not sleep with anyone else while I’m gone?”

“You don’t like it when I do, right?”

Dean thought for a moment, then pulled his pants the rest of the way on.  “Nah, I think you should sleep with whoever you want, Sammy.”

“Dean, you don’t have to – ”

 “I mean it.”  Dean walked over to Sam and placed his hands on his brother’s hips.  “I think you should misbehave a lot while I’m gone.”

Sam looked like his mouth had gone dry.

Dean brushed a finger over his brother’s lips.  “You should be just as naughty and slutty as you want, and when I come back… well, I’ll have to reclaim you all over again, won’t I?”

Sam made a soft, choked sound and nodded.  “Y-yeah.  Yeah, you will.”

Dean grinned and gave Sam’s ass a pat.  “Keep this nice and loose for me,” he ordered softly, “I’ll need it when I get back.”  He gave his red-faced brother one more kiss and pulled away, walking out the door with a huge smile on his face.

He couldn’t wait to visit Stanford again.

-

sequel

[fountainpenguin]

Hello! This isn't trying to pressure you or anything, I'm just genuinely curious and wanted to know about your plans for Mario content (since I know you've wanted to do that for a while). Any fun worldbuilding you'd like to share? :)

Thanks for the Ask!

Man, I wrote Mario world stuff ages ago that I completely forgot about... I had a 100 Prompts series and I think I got into the 30s before it stopped. I had tons of worldbuilding for Cackletta and Fawful specifically since they were my favorites :)

I do still keep my [current] Mario drafts around, but unfortunately I'm not sure when I'll post them... I'm never satisfied. I like the canon worldbuilding the way it is and it Does Not Translate very well into my writing style. I've tried for years, but it just... doesn't.

My Mario stuff is "okay," but it just feels very "meh" to me. I think I'll get there someday if I'm willing to work on it, but I'm not able to do that right now. I HAVE actually thought about it and I might post the occasional one-shot, but I'm not sure yet. My worldbuilding is still all over the place and it's very messy and I'm not in love with it.

---

One of my stories is called "Political Machines" and it's about how the name "Mario Kart" came to be; it's Peach POV and delves into the culture of racing Yoshis back before karts came around. I like the idea of it a lot, but it's extremely info-dumpy and I've been struggling with it for years. I think I need to write something else first, but I haven't figured out what. Here's a scene from that:

I also love how savage Peach is skdflj:

---

I also have two Bowser stories (a one-shot called "1-Down" which is Kamek POV and covers the deaths of Bowser's parents, which I LOVE but can't make it hit right) and a very loose draft for a story called Carapace Rex which is a Bowser backstory 'fic. Here's a good scene from the former:

I do miss this 'fic... I really like how extreme Bowser is despite how badly bullied he is by his abusive mom; he's vicious to her and I love that.

tbh it's actually really nice and maybe I'm overthinking it. I'd love to finish it; I just can't get the emotions right.

That said, I might take another whack at it soon and post when I'm done fiddling since I've already seen how I'll fiddle with it for years if I don't commit to a date /shrug. It's definitely one of the stories that ever was... It's just not hitting the emotions I need it to.

---

I LOVE the opening lines to Carapace Rex (not sharing for major "1-Down" spoiler reasons), but I probably won't write the latter since it's been almost 6 years since I started it back in 2018. Getting older, hoping to publish original work, and starting a new long 'fic wouldn't be a good idea (Dog's Life draft started in early 2022 and Factor in 2018; I'm just wrapping up existing projects for now, but Carapace was always super vague so I don't really want to get into it). I might turn it into a one-shot though since I really love the voice in it.

-> The concept behind Carapace was that Koopas were predators of Toads... I actually reskinned the intro for Carapace into a piece of original content I used in my advanced creative writing class in college, then reskinned it again as the backstory for my OC Courtney the snow leopard, then reskinned it again to be the original project I took to a writer's conference this year...

I'm dying to do something original with predators and prey, but I've had a lot of talks with agents and editors and professional authors and we agreed it's not the right time for this content. To make a long story short, I'd either have to strip the fantasy politics out and de-age the characters so it's "animal people middle grade" or I'd have to age up the characters and push the adult angle and I... I don't know how I feel about my public author persona being "adult furry content"...... that's not what I want; I just want wolf kids hunting in the woods for their coming of age and growing up in this post-war world of fantasy politics and ceremonies... sob. The publishing world has categories though and you have to play by the rules.

Maybe someday... but I have a weird relationship with Carapace because of that, because I'm in LOVE with the scenes from it but I'd hate to use them in Mario fanfic when I'd like to use them in original work. Tsk-tsk. Maybe someday once I've already gotten my foot in the door. I'm keeping this project on the backburner as something I might self-publish but I've talked to a lot of people and I'd rather get something published traditionally and try to build my author platform before I invest, because self-pub is... expensive.

Honestly right now Dog's Life is giving me my "we're way too young to be carrying the weight of this many interspecies politics on our shoulders" fix, so at least I have that <3

---

I also have an 8-chapter 'fic called "Out of You" which is about Kamek trying to raise the Koopalings (and Junior). I'll probably scrap most of that and rehash it as something else; I don't think there's much worth saving...? I'll have to think about it.

But here's my favorite WIP scene from it, ft. Ludwig and Peach:

:)

Potential's good, fun is good... Just need to find the right kind of worldbuilding that satisfies me. I'd originally hoped to post Mario stuff before the movie came out in April, but I just never got around to it. Maybe someday? It just doesn't feel right, though, and I can't invest my energy in something I'm not in love with.

---

That's all I have to say right now; I don't want to say too much about my worldbuilding since it's still super messy. I have ideas about what would be "cool" or "interesting" but I just... don't love those ideas enough to make them part of "my take" on the world. There is a fine line between "Riddle's usual magical realism writing style" and "At this point it's an AU." I think I need to cull back the crazy ideas and stick closer to canon.

Is that "boring" and "uncreative"? Eh, I think that's just where my passion lies; I write fanfics because I love the media, and if I didn't love it, I wouldn't be writing fanfics. When I write, I want to continue writing the worldbuilding that I love, which means basing it closely on the media. I guess I'll always be canon compliant at heart even in a fandom where I'm okay with writing AUs, ha ha.

Maybe I'll dig up some of my really old one-shots from that 100 prompts project, clean them up a little, and post some of them. I know there were some Baby Bowser and Doopliss pieces in there. Might be a nice icebreaker.

[mariaofdoranelle]

Royal Rebels — Chapter 2: The Peace Attempt

Masterlist

I tried to make this the least info-dumpy I could, but we really need to know what brought Aelin to Mistward lol anyway I hope you like it!!

Warnings: angst, language, very low violence

Word count: 4,1k

O==[::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>

Stop burning your hair

Aelin dropped the dishes she was already aggressively scrubbing and hissed, “Stop infiltrating my mind.” She had a feeling their true identity would be known soon, considering the amount of times Dorian worked on his magic whenever he couldn’t smell anyone close.

“I need to practice Maeve’s powers with someone. Preferably before your hair fall off.”

Aelin groaned. “I’m just straightening it.” She couldn’t wait to go home, where her hair didn’t get frizzy because of the humidity. Where she had a protein-based diet that helped her training, even though Emrys was a miracle worker with the few resources he had. God, it had been a bit more than a month since Aelin left the castle, but she missed Phillipa’s dessert trays terribly. Her servant would be scandalized if she saw the way Aelin was keeping her clothes now.

I won’t get mad if you decide to go back, you know.

Aelin jumped on her spot and swore while clutching her chest. Dorian seemed firm, but she had known those shuffling feet for years. “If you’re using mind tricks to make me quit the mission, it’s working. This is getting beyond creepy, you’re teaching me how to block this thing first thing tomorrow.” Aelin looked around the kitchen and tried to keep her voice light when she said, “Besides, this isn’t even how it works. My mom told me it’s more like a story she tells in your head.” Dorian was frowning at a pile of cups and cleared his throat. Aelin had avoided this topic for hours, now the only thing she could do was brace herself for what was coming.

“Maybe your friends from Doranelle could give us some information on her.”

Oh, now he decided to use his voice? She could feel Dorian’s gaze on her, but decided to focus back on scrubbing the dishes. It was impossible not to hear the gossip about Rowan’s exile, but she didn’t know how much of that was true. Was he just faking this situation, like he did in Terrasen? Was he never lying about the motives that led him there? That seemed unlikely. Aelin would be lying if she said the idea of bumping into Rowan again hadn’t crossed her mind as she planned her journey along with Dorian, keeping last spring out of her mind was harder every inch she neared Doranelle.

Aelin’s thoughts were racing, but they still weren’t going anywhere. When Emrys introduced her to Rowan and Fenrys earlier that day, she just greeted the two and rushed to the vegetables. Fast and indifferent. But she was so shocked she did a terrible job cutting them, so Dorian used his phantom hands to cover for her. She ground her teeth as her whole body tensed. Trying to figure Rowan out had been too distracting last year, she couldn’t afford to go there again considering the urgency of the mission she had now.

“They’re not my friends,” she eventually acknowledged.

“You wound me, Celaena.”

Both Aelin and Dorian jerked to the source of that interruption. Fenrys had just teleported to the kitchen, since the doors were too creaky for someone to sneak up on them like he did. Fenrys Moonbeam, in all his blonde, tan, smirking glory. Just like Aelin and half of her castle remembered. But probably in different ways.

Their intruder leaned on a wooden table. He wore his trademark smirk, but there was something off about it. “I smelled something burning across the hall and figured you’d be here.”

Dorian just looked at Aelin and he didn’t need to infiltrate her mind again for her to know his thoughts. I told you so. Then he looked around the room and said, “I’m going to get my beans.”

Seeing Fenrys’s confused face when Dorian left, Aelin added, “Dorian’s addicted to anascaul beans. He brought a pack and we cook it at night.”

“I remember them. They only grow in harsh winters, right?”

“Yeah.”

Fenrys was running his thumb through a smashed corner of the table. God, that was awkward. Aelin was feeling a pang on guilt about what she said before. Despite being wary of him when they first met, she really liked Fenrys. She shouldn’t let him get caught in the crossfire between Rowan and her. Aelin took a seat and settled another beside her for Fenrys.

“How’s life as an exile?”

That owned her a small smile. “Better than I imagined. Rowan and I have plans to grovel to Galan so he can give us a job.” He sat beside her and sighed. “I don’t give a fuck about not living in Doranelle anymore. Being poor really sucks, though.”

Aelin chuckled a little, but then asked, “Do you regret doing it?”

Fenrys frowned and bit the inside of his cheek. “No. In fact, I wish I had stood up against Maeve sooner. If I could go back in time, the only thing I would change is the way I did it.”

“That was so dumb,” Aelin giggled, and then the two of them were chuckling at Fenrys’s disaster of a murder attempt.

“I thought you were loyal to her.” As much as she wanted, Aelin couldn’t bring herself to ask what she was actually aching to know. What happened in the past year? What made Rowan change his mind? As if sensing her thoughts, Fenrys was the most solemn Aelin had ever seen him when he answered her.

“I’ve always been loyal to Rowan, not Maeve.”

Aelin was scrambling her mind for an answer when Dorian came back and filled a pot with his beans. Fenrys’s eyebrows went to his hairline.

“What the hell are you doing, pretty boy?”

“Cooking my beans,” Dorian said with a shrug.

“You need to sort and rinse them first.” Fenrys grabbed the beans and spread them on a kitchen towel. “You know, I’m a farm-bred warrior. If you two need anything, just tell me.”

Aelin raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you happen to know how to make shoes? I asked Emrys where could I find a pair, but he just gave me two blocks of wood and some leather hides.”

Fenrys’s cackle boomed through the kitchen as Dorian bit his lip trying not to laugh at his friend as well. In fact, Dorian better not laugh at her. When she came to him, he had absolutely no idea what to do with the tools too.

“When I say I was raised on a farm, I actually mean a massive manor in the southeast.” Fenrys grimaced at them. “Anyway, you can buy shoes in the city, but it’s a day trip. And I don’t mean just peasantry life, you can count me in for whatever thing you’re doing, it’s not like I have a job to keep me busy. I’m sure Rowan feels the same.”

Aelin paled as her mind started racing. Fenrys gave her two kicks in the gut as he sorted beans like it was nothing. One for figuring out her intentions, another for suggesting she would ask for Rowan’s help.

Fenrys cocked his head with an amused smile. “Should I believe you came here just to enjoy the weather?”

“That was the same thing I was asking myself in Terrasen.” Aelin refused to back down.

Dorian interjected. “Please. Don’t. I’ve read about this discussion too many times in Aelin’s letters already.”

Fenrys leaned back on his chair. “Don’t worry, pretty boy. If I remember correctly, Aelin and Rowan had a truce.” Fenrys smirked at Aelin while answering Dorian.

“A peace treaty,” she said through gritted teeth, “That was very brief and ineffective.”

“Maybe we should make another peace treaty tomorrow morning.”

Every instinct Aelin had was telling her to back out, but she couldn’t. That was Dorian’s mission, not hers. When Aelin looked at her friend, he was looking back at her, uncertainty filling his eyes and she knew why. As much as Dorian didn’t want to do anything that made her uncomfortable, they were both eager to go home. Talking to people who last week were close to Maeve would be beneficial.

“I’ll be at the upstairs study tomorrow morning after breakfast. If you and Whitethorn decide to go or not, I don’t care.”

Fenrys opened his mouth, but then glanced at the table and turned back to Dorian. ”You need to discard the broken beans as well.”

Dorian wore a pinched expression, but still let Fenrys teach him how to treat his beans. Good. Aelin’s mind was still going in circles, she had less than one night to recollect herself and plan their next meeting. There would be time to hang out with her friends later.

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

Entering her arms and armor closet, the first thing she noticed was Rowan sat on a cushioned chair, unbothered by being requested to a mysterious meeting with Aelin of the Wildfire at a room filled with weapons. Aelin herself knew grown men who would be pissing their pants by now.

“Thank you for your assistance, Philippa.” Aelin had every intention to keep this conversation as private as possible. That was why, even though she had picked her most trusted servant to escort Rowan to one of the most secluded areas of the castle, Philippa had to be dismissed for this conversation.

Having no idea how this would go, so she decided to eat first.

“Won’t you at least drink the tea, Whitethorn?”

“Is it poisoned?”

Aelin gazed at him, sending a too-sweet smile. “Would you drink it if it was?”

Rowan glowered at her, but poured himself some cardamom tea.

“Are you too good for the food also?”

“I don’t like sweets.”

Aelin wrinkled her nose. “Disgusting. I should’ve seen this coming from you.”

Rowan took a deep breath. “Why am I here?”

“We’re here for a peace treaty,” she prompted while straightening her posture and picking a sword that was near her.”

He raised his eyebrows. “In here?” Looking around, he said, “Your father failed to show me this room of the Royal Armories. It’s quite impressive.”

She hoped Rowan couldn’t see how happy his comment made her. Aelin’s closet was her baby. A smile began to form on her face, but then she gripped the sword tighter, as if it would help her control her emotions. “Do you want peace or not?”

“You know, provoking me until I try to kill you is a terrible tactic. After five days of this, I’m still not sure if you want to have a reason to officially execute me, or just banish me from Terrasen.”

Aelin sighed. “Honestly, I’d be happy with either.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “That’s... Not surprising at all. Go on with the truce.”

“Treaty.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

Rowan bit his lip. “Forgive me, Milady. What does this treaty entail?”

Aelin had to glance away to her sword. This wasn’t about Rowan, she just had poor reactions to being called milady. Clearing her throat, she explained, “I’ll give my best to stay out of your way, but for every day I leave you alone, you must train at least two hours with General Ashryver and The Bane. I don’t need to mention that if you try to kill me, the peace treaty is over, right?”

Rowan pursed his lips and leaned back on his seat, crossing his arms. “Why are you doing this?”

“You and I aren’t the only ones being affected by this feud.” Which meant her family and the council were pissed ever since she burned his door.

“So you’re telling me that you’ll stop whether I agree with this or not, the only difference is that I’ll have to work now.”

“Wrong. The Treaty is the only guarantee that I’ll leave you alone.” Actually, he was right. Somehow, the people at the castle started to like Fenrys and his dull bastard friend, making her look like the paranoid one. She’d think of another tactic soon.

He raised one eyebrow at her. She narrowed her eyes at him. If this was a battle of wills, she wasn’t going to give up soon.

Rowan sighed. “What makes you think your cousin will agree to train with me?”

Aelin had to hide a snort. If only he knew. Leaning back, she answered, “Let’s say he’s an admirer of your legacy as a warrior. All of the glaring you receive from him is out of loyalty. If you agree to be at peace with me, you’re at peace with him too.”

Rowan pressed and wet his lips as he considered her offer, which made her mirror his movement and immediately focus back on the sword on her lap. Just to give him some visual privacy until he surrendered.

“Okay, then. I agree with your terms.”

They both got up from their seats. Aelin offered a handshake, but immediately regretted it as his touch sent a thrill through her body. A little breathless, she established, “The Whitethorn-Galathynius Treaty starts now.” She tried to burn his hand a little, but he used his ice magic to block her attack while sending her a knowing look and swallowing. The bastard.

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

On the next day, Aelin woke up knowing what she had to do. Eat while cooking by snatching little bits of the food here and there, and then be the first to get at the meeting. Except that, when she got to the hall, it was easy to scent a trail of pine and snow leading to the study.

When she opened the door, Rowan was sat on one of the four wooden chairs available, behind a equally wooden desk. He didn’t portray any emotion, and neither did she. In that moment, Aelin was nothing but a blank mind and a pounding heartbeat.

“I wasn’t expecting to meet you again, Celaena.”

“Didn’t you eat?” Aelin moved one chair, sitting right in front of him with crossed arms.

“I drank water.”

She rolled her eyes. By her lack of response, he demanded, “What are you doing here?” Why did he fucking care? Rowan didn’t even have a country to protect or call his anymore.

“I went to visit Galan in Varese and my friend dragged me here.” She tilted her head, studying him. “Isn’t that your standard answer, Whitethorn?” He didn’t let out a single sign of his emotions, but she knew his hands would be likely pressed into fists, hidden behind the table. He seemed to be better composed today. Rowan’s reputation made him sound pretty apathetic, but Aelin was quick to disagree on that. From the first day, it hadn’t been difficult to rile rim up.

“Is this why you called this meeting?”

Aelin took a deep breath and looked right into the green eyes that seemed to swallow her whole. “Why should I trust an old nemesis who committed treason?”

Rowan blinked, but maintained eye contact. “You shouldn’t. At least I wouldn’t.” He sounded so genuine it threw her off-balance. Again. So she blurted the first thing that crossed her mind.

“If I knew your murder attempts were so poorly executed, I wouldn’t have put up that much of a fight about your visit.” Aelin meant that as an insult, but it was easy to see Rowan’s poor reaction. At first his eyes sparkled, followed by a twitch on his facial muscles that for a millisecond tugged on the left end of his lips. If anyone had taken their eyes off him for a blink, they would miss it. But Aelin didn’t. After schooling his face into neutrality, Rowan narrowed his eyes at her. On that exact moment, both Fenrys and Dorian entered the study.

The blonde male gave them a wide grin and turned to Dorian, saying, “I told you Rowan would be here already! I know the drill sergeant like the back of my hand.” Said drill sergeant just gave an exasperated sigh.

“So, where was she in the story?” Apparently, Dorian meant business today.

Rowan tilted his head at him. “The Princess refuses to tell me anything.”

“Why would I explain to you what I’m doing here if you never deigned to tell me what the fuck you were doing in Terrasen?”

“Are we really having this discussion again?”

“Fuck you!”

Rowan’s eyes crinkle as he seemed to say with his gaze, You’d love that, wouldn’t you?

Aelin’s face flushed with embarrassment, anger, something else she wouldn’t dare think about. “Now that I think about it, I can actually kill you, you know? Maeve doesn’t give a fuck about you. In fact, now there isn’t a soul that cares about you enough to start a war,” she snapped.

“Go on, then.” Rowan’s shoulders were completely strained, and she could see the vessel on the right side on his neck that gave a slight appearance when he was angry. He explained through clenched teeth, “Don’t you want to kill me? Kill me. Now.”

Yes. She wanted to kill him. Badly. Aelin had waited an entire year for this, didn’t she? She frowned at him and rose from her chair, clutching the dagger she had hidden underneath her clothes. Taking hesitant steps towards him, she bit the inside of her cheek. He was looking at her without moving a single muscle to fight. After so long, would she kill in a study in the middle of nowhere? They should probably schedule a duel or—

Dorian decided it was a good idea to interrupt her murder and cleared his throat. “Maybe I should begin the meeting?”

Fuck, she was the worst friend ever. Dorian actually wanted something from Rowan, and she nearly killed him. One second more and he would be dead.

Then, Dorian started fill the boys in, telling them in detail about how Maeve sent his father a letter notifying her first visit in six hundred years to discuss a partnership between Doranelle and Adarlan. And how his idiot father thought it was an amazing idea. A few months later, she was very well received. The Glass Castle’s hospitality was so great she felt free to play with the King of Adarlan’s mind until she enslaved him with a blood-oath. It didn’t even take five minutes of her time. When she turned to Dorian to do the same, he shifted into a cockroach and ran for his life. Maeve tried to catch him, and even tried to murder him by stomping on his roach form, but then Dorian managed to run and reach Orynth to seek help. And there they were.

“Fuck.”

That was Fenrys’s only response as he stared into the void with a very pale face. When he clutched his stomach, Rowan got up and put his two hands on his friend’s shoulder like it was an involuntary response.

“Fenrys has an emotional stomach. I’m healing him so he won’t throw up,” he explained after receiving equally puzzled looks from Aelin and Dorian.

“Yep. That’s the only reason I keep him around.” Rowan looked at the ceiling and sighed, but it was clear he was trying to stop his cheeks from twitching.

Dorian tilted his head at Fenrys. “You’re in the army.” He wasn’t anymore, but Aelin didn’t feel like pointing it out.

“Yeah, that never helps.” Aelin hadn’t seen him like this in Terrasen, but maybe it was because things were pretty smooth over there for him. For a moment, she wondered how it must have been for him doing Hellas knows what on Maeve’s behalf.

Rowan cleared his throat. Still with his hands on Fenrys’s shoulders, he made eye contact with Dorian and asked, “How are you?”

“Determined. I didn’t do enough to protect my country. That won’t happen again.”

“Good.” Rowan looked at both Aelin and Dorian now. “What are you going to do?”

She sighed. “The council gave us six months to solve this however we like, but their main condition is that we can’t start a war.” Rowan raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. Yes, she knew it was an impossible task. She also knew she could totally do this. Peacefully. Because she was a peaceful future leader. Which made her straighten her posture and continue, “That’s why we’ll kill her very discreetly.” Doranelle couldn’t start a war against Terrasen based on a suspicion, right?

“The same way I tried to kill Maeve very discreetly?”

Aelin squinted her eyes at the buzz-kill. So typical of Rowan. She could enter the castle, kill the bitch, make it look like a robbery or maybe a very sudden deadly disease, and leave. No one would question it, the female was old as dust. Literally four thousand years old. The oldest Fae alive. Could a tree outlive her? Aelin had no idea.

Fenrys tilted his head. “So discreetly you didn’t bring Aedion? I’m surprised he didn’t hide on the ship so he could come with you.” Aelin bit her lip. Yeah. About that.

Aelin could sense the laughter Dorian was repressing, but he swallowed it and said, “Of course he came.” But then his body started trembling, and he could barely manage to complete, “With the whole Bane!” Aelin’s cheeks immediately flushed. She would kill Dorian. In his sleep. And she’d tell people it was Maeve so she could kill her to allegedly avenge the death of her best friend.

Fenrys was cackling, but managed to joke at her, “You want to discreetly kill Maeve with an entire army behind you?”

Aelin gaped, incredulous. He was not as funny as he thought he was. “Excuse you. They’re in Varese! Until I send for them or Aedion grows too impatient.” But then she smiled at their friends’s amusement. Her overbearing parents made The Bane cross the ocean because they were too worried about leaving her alone with Dorian. It was so ridiculous she started laughing with them too. Except for Rowan, of course, only stared at them, paying close attention to the conversation.

After they recomposed themselves, Dorian carried on, “And there’s the part where Aelin and I disagree. She wants to study Maeve’s defenses and strike, but I’d rather pull some strings to degenerate her reputation as a queen first, so no one will come after us if things go bad.”

Fenrys’s laughter got bitter. “Her reputation as a queen is already fucked. The peasants pay five different taxes, the city’s too violent because everyone’s starving, the nobles want to help Maeve before everything goes to shit but she won’t let them. Do you want me to keep going?” Seeing his friend was better already, Rowan took a step back and and blinked at Aelin and Dorian a few times.

“So you two came to a foreign land you’ve never visited with a massive army you don’t know what to do with and thought it would be a good idea to plan along the way?” After his angry remark, the room was deadly silent.

“I have many plans,” Aelin barked after a few moments.

“You have many ideas and absolutely no consistent plan.”

Aelin glared at him. “Do you want to tell me a few tips on how to kill the most heavily guarded monarch in the world, then? Because that worked out so well for you!” Aelin hadn’t noticed she was screaming on her feet until the room fell silent and she was being stared at by everyone. Great. She took a few steps back, leaned on the wall with crossed arms and glared at Rowan.

He only took a deep breath. “I’m sending for Sellene.” His cousin? That works side by side with Maeve? What the fuck?

“You’re kidding me.”

“I won’t act behind her back again.”

Aelin gaped. He didn’t seem to be kidding. “Did I invite you to be my killing buddy?”

Before anyone could answer her, a demi-Fae with unusually nice clothing and very deep onyx eyes entered the room, making Aelin hiss, “This room is already being used.” It was Rowan’s fault, he air shielded every room he was in, and then no one could know it was being occupied by the noise. She could sense Rowan’s shield on her skin, and in the next second the demi-Fae slammed her face-first on the wall, pinning all of her limbs. At first, Aelin froze. Her heart was pounding as she thought of what to do. No one knew her real identity, and Mistward rarely received visitors.

Without thinking much further, she barked at demi-Fae stranger, “That’s fucking rude, I just moved in here!”

Rowan was already up from his chair when he demanded, “What the fuck do you want, Lorcan?”

So considerate of him to start negotiations when Aelin’s face was already flat against the wall.

TAG LIST

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[toddperrys]

Carry Me Home

Hello all, I know I haven't written in quite a while but my mental health has been much better lately and I've been feeling a lot more motivated so have some Anderperry. I'm actually writing a longer fic with them and I'm hoping to have the first chapter of that out soon. In the meantime, enjoy!! Reblogs always appreciated Title: Carry Me Home Pairing: Anderperry (Neil Perry and Todd Anderson) Word Count: 1735 Rating: G Read it on AO3 here

Despite the music thrumming from behind the counter, Neil’s eyelids were drooping shut. It was late, nearly four in the morning, and the dumpy Irish pub was nearly empty save for a few townies sitting alone and—of course—Neil’s friends, drunk and chortling and hardly able to stand. 

Neil, however, was stone cold sober. When Charlie proposed going out to celebrate the end of finals week, Neil didn’t hesitate to volunteer as designated driver. Normally he loved drinking with his friends, but after a grueling final that morning for his queer theatre and film class, he wasn’t in the mood for a wild night out. 

Many hours later—sitting in the bar and watching his friends sign a terrible rendition of Britney Spears’ “Womanizer” they surely wouldn’t remember tomorrow morning—Neil decided it was time to go. He stood from his stool and approached the others.

“Alright, American Idol, let’s get out of here,” Neil said. 

“Neil,” Charlie moaned, “A little longer, please.” 

Neil sighed, “We’ve been here since eight, you’ll hate me if I let you stay and continue to embarrass yourselves.”

The others huffed as Neil herded them towards the door. Meeks and Pitts leaned against each other, snorting at their own half-coherent sentences. Charlie dragged his feet and complained and Knox followed closely behind, silent and still as a rock aside from the dopey smile plastered across his face. Cameron muttered to himself, as drunk as the others despite his earlier scolding about the dangers of too much alcohol. They made it to the sidewalk and Neil opened the car. 

He ran through a mental checklist as they climbed in, making sure everyone that entered the bar came out—wait, where was Todd? He scanned the group’s faces once again and confirmed his earlier observation. Todd was missing. Once the other five were in their seats, Neil hurried back through the door. 

He spotted Todd slumped against the far wall near the bathrooms. He was smiling peacefully, the anxiety that normally coiled in his muscles gone and replaced with a nearly unrecognizable ease. Something inside Neil softened at the site and he was tempted to just settle on the floor beside him, DD be damned.

“Todd, there you are,” Neil said. 

“N-Neil,” Todd slurred. “C’you lift me?”

“What?”

“Lift me,” Todd repeated. His eyes suddenly became alert, a hopeful glittering blue that rendered Neil incapable of saying no. 

Neil sighed and looped an arm over Todd’s shoulders. He groaned as he pulled them both upward. 

“Better?” he asked.

Todd nodded, “Much better.”

They trudged across the bar. Todd nestled his head in the spot where Neil’s neck met his shoulder and took a deep breath. 

“You smell good,” Todd said. “And this sweater, looks s’good.”

“I–” Neil paused and looked at Todd. His eyes were closed and he was leaning against Neil. One hand rested against Neil’s chest, just over his heart. Heat flood his cheeks. He swallowed his question and instead said, “Thank you, Todd.”

They made it to Neil’s car at the curb, Todd still snuggling against him. The others had gone quiet in the backseat and Neil helped Todd into the passenger side. As he pulled the seatbelt across his chest, Todd grabbed Neil’s hand. 

“Where we going?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Neil smiled, “Just home.”

This answer seemed to satisfy Todd. He released Neil’s hand and allowed his head to loll back against the seat, eyes closed and smiling. 

Neil slid into the driver’s seat and started the car. As he steered through the empty, rain-slick streets, he occasionally stole glimpses of Todd, who gazed out the window at the buildings slipping by. Street lights would occasionally throw light onto his face, turning his eyes to a shock of blue and his hair a brilliant copper for just a moment before everything went dark again. 

“Neil?” Todd said.

“Yes Todd?”

“You’re so good to me.”

They were at a redlight. Neil turned to look at Todd. His eyes were closed and his face was still save for the slight movement of his lips as he spoke. “Why wouldn’t I be good to you?” Neil asked.

“So many people aren’t,” Todd said, “But you always are, you always have been.”

A few beats of silence passed. Neil swallowed and said, “I appreciate you, Todd.”

They pulled up to the dorm a few minutes later. The car’s interior lights flickered on when Neil turned the key, waking the others. 

“Home?” Charlie said.

“Home,” Neil confirmed. 

They stepped out, Charlie and Knox first followed by Meeks and Pitts, then Cameron, and finally Neil, still supporting an unsteady Todd. It was a short journey up the stairs and down the hall to the cluster of rooms they called their own. 

Todd was quiet as he and Neil stepped into their dorm. Neil leaned down to help Todd settle himself on his bed. He unwound his arm from his shoulder and began to straighten, but Todd grabbed his arm and pulled him onto the bed beside him.

“Stay,” Todd said. He leaned against Neil, burying his face into his sweater, “Please just stay with me.”

“This isn’t my bed, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Neil said. His face felt like it was on fire now and his heart only seemed to be hitting every other beat. 

“You could never make me uncomfortable,” Todd said. “Please just be here.”

Neil hesitated. Everything in him screamed to stay put—to lay down against Todd’s comforter and wrap his arms around Todd’s waist and breathe in Todd’s scent—but this couldn’t be right. Todd wasn’t sober and Neil was just his friend, he’d never want Neil that way. 

“Todd, I just think—”

“Neil, don’t go,” Todd repeated. He lifted his face from Neil’s chest and met his eyes with a soft, beseeching gaze. “I really, really want you to be here with me.”

Neil’s head was swimming and he thanked God Todd was too drunk to notice the increase in his heart rate. “Okay,” he finally said. 

Todd grinned and relaxed against Neil as they laid down. Their legs tangled and Todd was so close Neil could count the silver flecks floating in his doe-like blue eyes. The night’s excitement fell on him all at once, his eyes and limbs growing heavy. 

“Good night, Todd,” Neil said. 

“G’night,” Todd answered. “I love you.”

Sleep overtook them both. 

Neil didn’t know where he was when he woke up the next morning. He panicked and bolted upright before spotting his empty bed on the opposite side of the room, the books and journals spilling across the floor from both he and Todd’s creative endevours, and—most surprisingly—Todd sleeping soundly beside him. 

The night’s events came flooding back to him—the bad karaoke, the quiet drive home, stumbling up the stairs to bed, and Todd saying he loved him. 

Todd said he loved him. 

Panic and joy rioted inside him. He wanted to jup up and down and shout to the whole world that Todd loved him, but he also knew Todd had been drunk. What if he hadn’t meant it? What if it was a mistake or a joke? How was he supposed to talk about any of this?

Before Neil could answer any of his questions, Todd stirred and opened his eyes. “Neil,” he said, his voice hoarse with sleep. “What are you doing in my bed?”

Neil forced his roiling emotions to subside. It felt like trying to contain a hurricane. “Do you remember anything about what happened last night?”

Todd furrowed his brow, “I remember going out, then drinking a lot of cheap alcohol, then not being able to walk and—” Todd cut off his sentence and went white as a sheet, “Oh God.”

Neil could see the anxiety building in Todd’s frame, watch as his muscles tensed and his breath sped up. “Todd, it’s okay—”

“I’m so sorry,” Todd said, cradling his face in hands. “Oh my God, Neil, I’m so sorry.”

“Todd, you don’t have to be—”

“I fucked up so bad I’m so sorry, oh my God.”

“Please just listen to me, Todd, I—”

“Just forget it ever happened, okay? It’s all irrelevant and I fucked up so bad, I know—”

“TODD!”

Todd went silent. 

Neil didn’t meant to shout, but he had to stop the tidal wave of fear that was threatening to drown both of them. 

“Todd, I didn’t mean to yell, I—” Neil paused and met Todd’s eyes. They were round and terrified, like Neil was about to slap him. Neil’s chest ached. “Just tell me, did you mean it, or was it just drunk mumbling?”

Todd hesitated. Neil felt like they were standing on ice. The shore was just a few feet away, but one wrong move and they would be plunged into icy territory from which they could never recover. 

“I meant it,” Todd finally said. “I’m sorry—”

“Please, Todd, don’t say sorry, you can’t say sorry,” Neil said. 

Several beats of silence passed as Neil took a breath. He noticed Todd’s hands were balled into fists and trembling. 

“I love you too,” Neil said. 

Todd blinked, “You love me?” He released his hands and his body relaxed and stilled. 

Neil let out a breath and smiled. “God, yes, I love you,” he said. “I love you so much I could barely say ���I love you’ because I was so terrified I’d scare you away.”

Todd let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, “I can’t believe this.” He kept laughing and Neil laughed with him. 

Neil lunged forward and tackled Todd to the bed, tears welling in his eyes from relief and happiness and love all at once. They kept laughing as Neil ran his hands over Todd’s face and Todd admired the warm sturdiness of Neil’s torso against him.

“Can I kiss you?” Todd asked. 

“Yes, please kiss me, in fact,” Neil replied, laughing harder. 

Todd crashed their lips together and it was even better than Neil imagined it would be. It was the comfort of a fire in winter and the excitement of a roller coaster and the novelty of a first spring rain, it was past and present colliding and a million things unsaid and conveyed only through the sweet press of their mouths. 

They pulled apart and Neil leaned his forehead against Todd’s, “Remind me to take you out more often.”

[daemxnium]

–– 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖎𝖘 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖚𝖒𝖆𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙 / 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗:

                                            and still lives?

name: magdalena (magda) o’hara, née kaminski 

age: 572 / visually 34

gender identity: cis-female.

pronouns: she/her

birthday: march 21, 1450

star sign: aries.

species: vampire

occupation: boutique owner

place of birth: osiek jasielski, poland

height: 5′6

about.

Dissatisfaction was the defining trait of Magdalena’s life: it ribboned through most of her life, casting its ugly shadow upon most moments in her long legacy. Her earliest years  were ones that she recalls as turbulent, unsatisfying in every degree. The world had been darker when she was still brand new. Magda’s murky memory of the days before she was turned bleed together; she remembers her father, loving but strict. Her mother, a dumpy woman, whose words were all of practicality and none of enjoyment— perhaps she was the wisest of them all, having raised five children without any of them being nearly as disobedient as their little Magda. Her head seemed to be permanently anchored to the sky, lips peeled back in a dreamy smile.  Often, she escaped her mother’s heckling to disappear in the fields of sunflowers, to hold hands with the village boys, to seize any amount of youth that she could. Even before the night that her life ended and began in one heart stopping moment; Magdalena always knew that she  craved nothing more than the world that lay beyond their little town,  one that didn’t mean an unhappy marriage with a baker and seven ruddy cheeked infants to bounce on her knee.

If her  mother would of had her way, she never would have left that evening. The front door was bolted shut, but hard workers as they were, the entirety of the Kaminski home slumbered as their youngest dressed in festival attire, long ribbons braided into her walnut hued hair before slipping out of the window, disturbing not her slew of sisters, nor their dog who laid out by the  fire. None were as free spirited as she, who kissed the cheek of the  blacksmith’s son before racing out to meet the music in the festival.  The noise, the food, the laughter; none held a light to the fascination that rocked her in the next moments. A stranger, with eyes the colour of amber, he beckoned her close and with her foolish heart, she greeted him.

He promised her the world, all of it.  Magdalena had never seen a creature so beautiful, so intriguing; he  spoke with an educated cadence, his Polish felt hundreds of years old—  though his smile was that of a young man. She didn’t understand then what his curse was, just that by the end of the evening he had enchanted her enough to hunger for it herself. Before the sun had risen, with his  fingers twining through her own, the girl rose as a vampire.

News  of a vile creature had already flooded the town, one that killed with little conscience, a monster from myth who fed only on the blood of  others. From her home, she was cast out, her promises to save her family was met with violence; the last she recalls of her father is the betrayal in his steadfast gaze and of her mother, disgust. To her sire  she fled, but the beautiful man of the evening before was nothing but a  trickster, just as cruel as promised— the first few years of Magdalena’s eternal life were spent alone.

She learned how to  survive, how to live upon those who would never be missed. It took  nearly a century before she harnessed enough courage to join the realm of the living once more, taking home in the village that her own family had grown up and died in, claiming to be a relative inheriting her birthright. The fascination of her youth flooded back gradually, she  charmed those who she met, leaving only when she had outgrown the  fiction of her supposed age.

It was the rest of the  world that she explored next, traipsing through every sanctuary and  sacred space, learning what she could of the universe that she seemed, like Cain, be forced to walk on until the end of days.

Her greatest flaw would turn out to be her attachment to the humans that populate the world. Her softness was a trait cultured over the years, and her desire for love ( even when she saw herself as more animal than human– even when it felt certain that her soul had gone when her first life had ) drove her. Every half century her heart felt the shatter of breaking after finding home in the body of a human destined to die– not once did she summon the courage to curse one she loved in the same way she had been.

Loving and losing is what tears her apart and knits her back together, and a desire for family that immortality had taken from her is fulfilled every so often with a fledgling vampire taken under her wing. She gives everything that she can, often leaving with nothing left but a bleeding, broken organ between her ribs: until she met Henry.

A fledgling vampire, he was like many of the others that Magda had saved and nurtured. He’d been out of control, his grip on humanity was so far gone he could hardly see it himself, but she managed to stop him before he descended upon a family: opening his eyes to what he had been doing, to the harm that he had caused. She watched his spirit break and wanted nothing more than to put him back together, tucking him into her arms as she vowed to keep him safe.

It was a promise she intended to keep, and aiding the young vampire blossomed into more than just affection: between them bloomed love. For the first time, her affections didn’t lie in someone that would fade, in a body she would have to bury when he grew old and tired. Together they twined their lives, continuing her mission to help those who were lost, to guide other vampires into living without fear and trailing death in their wake. She took his last name, and Grand Manan has become a sanctuary on for the two of them, though they’ve only been in the small town for a short while, she finds herself quite taken with it. Eternity has granted them an inexplicable amount of wealth and she has built the lavish life she enjoys now, the clouded days at the edge of  the water have brought her a sort of calm, and working at a boutique keeps her busy. 

On occasion, she haunts the beaches– a wraithlike figure in white linens that whip in the wind around her ankles. She dissolves into memories in these moments, and her life of complete joy is shadowed by the overwhelming reminder of loss: of all those left behind in her long, long life.

[maciek-jozefowicz]

[34] “Stonehenge”

Oil Pastel brush, Sketching group (Procreate app). When I began this drawing, I imagined a large block of stone which I was “sculpting” into form. But the extreme sfumato effect contradicts this idea — stone would not have such fuzzy outlines. But then contemporary culture is full of paradoxes, so this contradiction is appropriate for a contemporary drawing. If this face is a symbol of traditional authority and power, then its fuzzy outlines represent the fading of that authority and power. But there are peculiarities in this simple “portrait” that may lead to other interpretations — weak dumpy chin; missing mouth; no ears; the left (right?) eye being the sharpest, most in-focus area of the entire face; lack of ostentation (Historically, many portraits tried to convey the social importance of the subject more so that his beauty; even female portraits tried to convey beauty through costume as much as through face. But, then, that depended on the particular subject, too.).

Portraits of aristocracy and of nobility have been an essential subject matter in painting and sculpture for millennia. This imaginary portrait is part of this faded tradition, which continues today through countless of disposable photographic portraits of celebrities and our own photographic self-portraits intended for social media.

[ I’ve been refreshing myself on the history of Western art, and looking at past masterpieces (but from a different perspective than I have previously — previously, I looked at this art from the perspective of a fan, a spectator, an admirer; now, I am looking at this art from a perspective of an artist who intends to be part of that history), and I’ve realized that while many of their themes are still valid, their subject matter is mostly obsolete — Greek mythology is dead and Christian mythology is almostly dead. Illustrating scenes from their stories is anachronistic. Much of the challenge for contemporary artists seems to be in finding fresh subject matter that carries vitality and meaning for today’s culture, as well as carrying meaning for future generations. ]

[kahenn]

sender tucks hair out of receiver’s face . - Yamato

They sit, shoulder to shoulder, both of their eyes trained on the unassuming plant in front of them. It was a dumpy sort of looking cactus, growing perfectly in the middle of its round stone planter. A night-blooming cereus, a species of cactus native to Suna, knowing for its breathtaking flowers that bloomed in a grandiose display only once a year, at night.

So here they were, crouched, still as statues on the stone floor of the conservatory, waiting with bated breath for the very moment it was supposed to grace them with its beauty.

It seems to happen suddenly, the bud begins to unfurl dropping brilliant orange petals. There it is, in all of its glory. The midnight princess.

"Well..." she breathes, shifting forward, seemingly entranced by the sight of it. How lucky they are, she thinks, to witness such a thing first hand. It can be difficult to predict just when it will actually bloom, many hopefuls missing it in the night. Finally, she tears her eyes away from it to look at him, finding his gaze is already fixed on hers. "Gorgeous, isn't it?"

Yamato hums in agreement, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of bang that in her excitement, had fallen across her nose, back behind her ear. She is sure she blushes, that familiar warmth creeping up her neck. She chuckles softly, even though there is nothing to laugh at.

"Well, that's it, huh?" she murmurs, not quite yet wanting the moment to end.

[scarfacemarston]

John’s Journal 6 out of 13

Note: This does not include the 100% completion spoilers. I really challenge you to read through this and still tell me that John is not as complex as Arthur. They just portray it differently. I’m not saying you have to like him - just that he is so much more than “just a dumb angry man”. I still encourage everyone to play the game. It’s not the same through here. It’s a beautiful story and ties up nicely. First Journal here All of the journals

Transcript: Good news - I now own a ranch. Bad news, I now have Uncle with me. Or is it the reverse? If he don’t shut his mouth, I’ll paint this place with his blood. I bought a dumpy bit of land for Abigail and she ain’t here.  Instead I get Uncle.

How the hell did this happen? I got the worst of all things. I miss Abigail. I’ve been a proper fool for longer than I can remember. FOR ALWAYS.  

[pinkcapybaras]

hi. uh.

i have not had a tumblr for years and years (2012 crowd, hayyy) , but i thought i’d create a place for myself to hide shorter form thoughts in-between aesthetic images and shit again.

in the spirit of this, there’s no need to explain, but I’m gonna do so anyway.

hi class, i’m ewa. i found myself in therapy for the first time a year ago, at the ancient age of 29, because of severe anx and panic attacks that were getting out of hand.

————

a few months later, puzzles started falling into place. and there were a lot missing. there was not only gad, but also cptsd, acoa, and hsp. i’m still processing a lot of those, so you can expect some trauma dumpies whenever i can’t bring myself to get up and put those in my journal.

apart from a fucked up upbringing making me relearn everything at 30, i’m a game dev producer, i have two cats, 5 plants, and way too many all-year spooky decorations.

that should do for now. now don’t mind me being a tumblr noob allll over againnnnnn.