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guiltreservoir · 5 months

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as long as there is an ocean ✧ read on ao3

the abyssal plains of tommy's subconscious are littered with the carcasses of his father's favorite adages.

no matter how valiant his attempts have been to pry them free — and despite the meticulous, delicate nature of his methods — it seems that many of the sea-skeletons have been left sitting beyond salvation, now inextricable from waterlogged sediment. they're too far-sunk to extract safely; if lucky enough not to crumple like a sheet of discarded tissue paper on the journey down, he'd explode his lungs to red mist on the way back up to the surface. it's almost easier if he imagines them this way, as broken fragments of corpses too fragile to exhume:

the fleshy tissue of a half-eaten squid — actions speak louder than words. the crushed shell of an unfortunate lobster — beggars can't be choosers. the rotting remains of a clever eel — boys who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. the ribcage and spine of a starved shark — do as i say, not as i do.

one saying in particular has been mummifying for longer than the others, a giant humpback frozen in a state of watery decay, embalmed in the sandy gunk of his darkest trenches — keep your shoulders straight and your head on straighter. oft punctuated with a caustic, kid.

it's pretty ironic, considering the fact that tommy kinard has nary a straight bone in his body. maybe that's why the line burrowed itself so thoroughly into the deepest, slimiest crooks of the substrate of his mind, slow-growing algae coating the slippery crevices of his hippocampus to rankle him perpetually. tommy hasn't spoken directly with his old man in years; these days he couldn't if he wanted to, or at least not without a ouija board and an uncharacteristic flair for masochism, neither of which he cares to equip himself with.

nevertheless, the phantom whale fall of his father's most-reliable phrase continues to nourish the last hungry, lonely fish left scouring the ocean floor of tommy's mind. nearly every move he makes is centered around practicality, every decision sewn together by threads of vigilance and observation.

with nearly four decades of practice and application under his belt, he's gotten good at keeping his shoulders straight, and gay as he may be, he thinks his head's on just fine, although such would be a contradictory and controversial statement upon the ears of one thomas kinard, senior. thankfully he'll never have to hear it.

tommy can live with his own amendment to the man's words because tommy knows himself and therefore knows the truth. his posture is excellent and he's a considerably level-headed guy. he can't be straight; he doesn't want to be. what he can be is pragmatic. he can be logical, he can be useful, he can be rational. he can be quite capable and, as it turns out, even likable. he can be funny, and charming, and vulnerable with the right people. he can be queer, he can be gay, he can be loved, he can love. he can become without becoming unmoored.

for thirty-some good years, tommy kinard does a bang-up job at keeps his shoulders straight and his head on just fine. he's pushing forty when he meets evan buckley and eddie diaz.

───────────────

evan buckley and eddie diaz exist as a singular entity within the confines of tommy's skull. two sides of the same coin, grumbles the detached jaw of an imaginary anglerfish.

it takes some effort to extract one from the other, but tommy finds ways. over mutual interests in muay thai, basketball, and helicopters, he and eddie become fast friends. over mutual interests in each other's inquisitive minds, curious hands, and wanting mouths, he and evan become even faster lovers.

he makes out with one of them, roughhouses with the other; it all feels the same, gets identical synapses firing. he knocks eddie to the mat, steals spit-flecked exhales off of the inches of air near his wild-grinning lips and brings them home for buck to drink down, licking them into his ravenous mouth, delivering him secrets to unwittingly swallow. he smelts himself down to the base and seeps in between them, liquid copper in the nickel sandwich of their clad coin.

it isn't until tommy's got both of them sprawled out on his couch one night, months into his increasingly complex relationships with each of them, that he truly starts to grasp how evan and eddie might exist as a singular entity outside of his skull, too.

top gun's ending credits march, sans serif ants, to the glowing edge of tommy's television screen. fuzzy, synthetic white-blue haze pours into the room and across the skin of buck and eddie's limbs and faces in a manner that makes tommy think of marble hewn painstakingly into handsome statue, of rock tumbled smooth by a patient, perpetual stream, ever-flowing towards the sea.

tommy thinks, i could be a sculptor. i could be a river.

copper in the nickel.

the two men are draped across his sectional like lions in the sun, impenitent and unabashed in the way they take up space, in the way they take up each other. buck's legs are long, stretched out along multiple cushions, his head heavy on tommy's lap. eddie, on the opposite end of the couch from tommy, started out the evening upright, but the drone of the movie — combined with tommy's easy laughter and the literal and figurative warmth pouring off of buck — had helped to coax a more relaxed posture out of him. now he slouches deep into the pillows, legs spread wide to knock up against buck's bare feet where his sweatshorts ride up his quads. tommy almost expects the point of contact between the pair of them to spark, start a blaze that would surely incinerate the three of them in spite of their résumés.

his heart's been a tinderbox for long enough that he can usually recognize flint even when it's disguised as water; the thirst that parches him convinces him it's worth attempting a sip without regard of probable risk.

he lets out a long exhale and drops a hand to card through evan's hair, half-listens to eddie babble on about how the shots of the F14 fighter jets are still so cool all these years later. he's beaming like a kid the whole time, sunshine-ray of a smile gleaming straight at buck.

tommy watches as buck can't help but smile right back, and god, if the energy radiating off of them could be harnessed for physical usage, tommy would never have a utility bill again in his life. he watches, enraptured, as buck flexes and curls his toes against the soft dark hairs of eddie's thigh, pressing dents into his skin. watches as eddie presses back.

eddie falters in his warplane musings when buck's foot skids over and catches in the edge of his shorts.

buck says, "sorry," not convincingly.

eddie clears his throat and drags his gaze from the arch of buck's foot resting against his leg up buck's calf, to his knee, to where the exposed pale of his thigh disappears behind them hem of his shorts. he takes his time wandering up the rest of buck's body, lingering especially at the relaxed curve of his dick under loose cotton fabric, the relaxed curve of his gently parted lips. finally he meets buck's answering stare and blinks, languid, like he's searing something into his memory, buck-shaped sunspots in his retinas. he says, "no big deal," not convincingly.

before tommy's eyes, water transmutes into flint and back into water and over again, metamorphosing in a churning lazy whirl. it dizzies him, blurring his vision until there is no difference between the two; there's just a murky charcoal pool, molten obsidian shimmering like glass, rippling like the surface of an ocean less haunted than the one sloshing in his cerebrum.

an ocean glinting with the reflection of two incandescent stars careening towards each other at a devastating rate, a spectacle to behold.

relaxing his shoulders, tommy orders them to, "kiss," more certain than ever. when they hesitate, he adds, "each other," bracing himself for the likelihood of a stellar collision.

when eddie clambers on top of buck and leans down to crush their lips together, pushing his head down against tommy's thighs, pushing tommy out of his own, it feels more like the calm soar and twinkling glitter of a shooting star against the navy velvet sky, the soft crash of a wave against the edge of a silky coast.

there's no threat of unkind flame, no exploding celestial dust.

it feels like water.

tommy kneels at the sacred place where the luminous sea laps at the heavenly shoreline and drinks, and drinks, and drinks.

───────────────

drinks become shots become wandering hands in the generous backseat of a stranger's car, an obvious cocktail to use as a scapegoat for the hammering beneath tommy's breastbone. the depths of his mind bubble up with, trust your gut, not your heart.

he has mixed feelings about that one, but at present he's not sure he can trust any singular part of his corporeal form, so at least it half-applies.

hearts and guts aside, tommy is starkly aware that things between buck and eddie may be escalating a bit beyond his feasible reach. he'd come into the evening equipped with the knowledge that he's successfully constructed his own internal witch's cottage of cake shingles and sugared windowpanes in this questionable "date" night between the three of them, however mutually agreed upon the night may be. he's self-aware enough to understand that he's destined to walk himself straight back into it, naïve as hansel and gretel without the excuse of not knowing better.

he just hadn't realized how famished he's become, and how tempting his own makings would look.

with buck seated comfortably between himself and eddie, tommy has no real access to eddie outside of the smush of knuckles-on-upper-arm from the hand he's got slung around buck's shoulder. as per usual the concept of space does not seem to exist between the other men, and tommy's fingertips get wedged so tightly between their limbs that it feels like with just a little more effort, maybe they could do some damage. the sick, private, bourbon-drenched gutters of his mind surmise that maybe he'd let them.

he watches as they exchange a heated look and a hotter liplock, uncertain as to whether he'll ever get used to witnessing them like this. in the weeks following the fated night of their little home movie screening, tommy's been lucky enough to encourage and initiate several more exchanges of both kisses and conversation among the three of them.

"i... still want to be with you," evan had mumbled against his chest, as they laid in bed together the morning after their tag-team makeouts with eddie to the soundtrack of top gun's menu screen music on a muffled loop.

"i had hoped," was tommy's response. after a beat, "and eddie?"

buck had peered up at tommy, eyes so earnest and open and stupidly fucking blue. "yeah, yes, eddie," he'd said, almost apologetic. "i— i do want to be with eddie," like he had to.

"i know," tommy had told him, the organs in his abdomen heaving tumultuously. "it's okay, evan," he'd said, his heart a hummingbird fluttering frantic. like the idea wasn't sending his ribcage collapsing in on itself, he'd even managed, "i can leave whenever you're ready for me to go." he'd assumed all along that he was on borrowed time; couldn't be a beggar and a chooser.

buck, with love bursting forth from every single inch of his being, with more than enough to go around, had admitted to wanting tommy to stay, if tommy would be okay with it. he pitched the idea that they could talk to eddie, try this together, give it an honest shot.

tommy had flashed back to a childhood history lesson on the u.s. mint where he learned that certain coins aren't made in layers, but instead by melting all of the metals together to become a solitary slab. his copper edges fuse further into mirroring ponds of nickel.

three sides of the same coin, he'd thought to himself. imagine that.

"god, eddie," buck rasps now, voice low, clandestine enough to stay in the backseat. "want you so fuckin' bad."

eddie's answering, "jesus, buck, i— want you, too," honest and shameless, snaps tommy fully back into the present moment in perfect timing.

their rideshare driver whips into the driveway of tommy's house, personified stress wearing a thin windbreaker of customer service as he vocally ushers them out of the car — ahem, looks like we're here, have a pleasant rest of your evening, goodbye. as eddie and buck tumble out of the passenger's side rear door in a picture of resolute gracelessness, tommy, clutching stubbornly onto an ounce of awareness, pauses to give a rearview-mirror nod of thanks to the weary-eyed dude white-knuckling the steering wheel. he promises a significant gratuity for bearing with their shenanigans and lets himself out on the driver's side of the car.

while he steadies himself on his feet, gravel crackles under the wheels of the gratefully retreating sedan, headlight beams fading to shadow. tommy observes the silhouette of the inelegant, eight-limbed, two-headed harbinger-creature making its way to his home's front entrance in a clumsy tangle and waits for his innards to spike with fear, with reluctance. he meanders up the drive and overturns every stone lining the path to his warranted doom, expecting to find the tattered shreds of his decomposing clarity, or maybe a colony of vicious fire ants. all he finds is fertile, loamy earth, rife with potential.

he stumbles up his porch stairs and unlocks the door when he gets there, opening it for the lot of them to fall through together.

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together on tommy's mattress, buck and eddie writhe and moan and curse. they haven't been able to break apart since toppling out of the backseat. they kiss like it's the very thing keeping them alive.

from where he's snuggled up to buck's back, tommy's got a front row seat for the premiere screening of his most-likely demise. he can see the saliva bubblling on the edges of eddie's tongue as he smears it from buck's throat all the way to the cap of his shoulder, a glistening snail trail scattered through with blooming bruises he'd sucked into buck's skin minutes before. he can hear every wet catch of buck's breath in his throat, every soft grunt eddie lets out into against it, every exhale shared between them.

tommy's head spins, so god damn far from being on straight. he feels like a balloon released into the wind, miles above the cold and familiar waters of his deep-ocean, stranded somewhere in the high desert of his psyche. loose dry earth kicks up in a vortex around him, carried by the tempest of his culminating untended emotions. when the dust cloud settles enough for him to think, he recalls the term raison d'être.

it's french, that's why it sounds fancy, is what his father had said to teenage tommy, long before he'd cared to even attempt a grasp on the concept. he'd been moody, hormonal, and wildly, spitefully uninterested in all of the things the man he shared a name with held so dear. rolled his eyes at the gruff, translates to 'reason for being.'

"buck, buck, c'mon," is what eddie says as he scrabbles for a good grip on buck's shirt, taking fistfuls of fabric and wrenching it over buck's head in a frenzy. says, "come here," like buck isn't already melded into him, bare torsos flush, thighs slotted close. says, "come here," again, and it registers that eddie is calling for tommy, too.

tommy eyes snap onto eddie's across the naked curve of buck's shoulder to find them scalding. "fuck," he breathes out, "okay," like it's permission enough for all of them.

for now, it will suffice.

the skin stretched over buck's bulky trap muscle is tacky with eddie's spit when tommy sets his mouth against it, bursting salty-bitter on his tastebuds. buck whimpers into eddie's mouth and grinds his ass back against tommy's crotch; eddie's hips follow after them in a sinuous roll. into the blushing hollow of his ear tommy asks buck if he'd like to feel eddie inside of him, makes sure it's just loud enough for eddie to hear, too. he feels eddie's ankle hook around his own, overlapped with buck's.

"please, yes," urges buck, fervent and wanton, lust and liquor fraying the last threads of his hesitancy. "i've been wanting that."

"you have?" eddie asks, as tommy says, "he has."

"god." context aside, eddie's tone is reverent. he says it again, as though the word is synonymous with buck's name. then, like it's still a secret to himself, admits, "i've been wanting you, too."

buck groans and shifts, or maybe it's eddie — as tommy's faculties render off in the burn of both the top-shelf whiskey in his bloodstream and buck and eddie's immediate intimacy, it becomes progressively more challenging for him to distinguish the fine details. it all feels the same, gets identical synapses firing.

he tracks eddie's movements as he smooths a hand down buck's side, sure and attentive, as natural as breathing. when he keeps moving south to bump his fingertips up against the waistband of buck's jeans and the boxers beneath, buck's breath hitches, hips jerking. tommy tilts against them in pursuit.

eddie asks, "can i?" and it's double the approval he's seeking.

"yeah, eddie, please," buck begs again while tommy nods, delirious with overwhelm.

in an uncoordinated jumble, eddie gets buck flat on his back and makes himself a home between his open-lolling legs. right away his palms return to the broad planes of buck's chest, the curves of his strong stomach, the slight slants of his hips. he makes constellations out of kisses on buck's collarbone, his nipples, in the divot of his sternum.

it looks as close to worship as anything tommy's seen.

tommy wonders if it's worth telling eddie how he'd taken his time working evan open that morning, fucking him deep and thorough so he'd be easier for eddie to push inside of now. if it's worth telling eddie how he'd come, sudden and hard and so fucking good, from thinking about buck taking him so readily.

when eddie's devout, trembling fingers struggle to unclasp the button of buck's jeans, tommy decides to backburner the dirty talk. instead, he rests a hand on top of eddie's, gentle yet authoritative, and says, "let me help."

buck's hips lift for tommy's hands without second thought, making it simple to shuck the pants off of him as eddie shimmies out of his own. before he can even process the sight of evan buckley and eddie diaz naked, together, on his own mattress, tommy's met with twinning expectant gazes and understands that he's meant to strip, too.

"i—" thought i would stay on the sidelines, he tries to say. but as seconds pass under the scrutiny of the other men, the reluctance dies in his larynx, and he jostles around a bit until the denim of his pants is bunched down low enough to free his dick.

he's too preoccupied by the fact that he's got both objects of his affection directly in front of him, touching and loving on each other and spilling all of it onto him, to truly comprehend the magnitude of the moment. his head is so far into the atmosphere that he almost misses eddie say, "tell me what to do, tommy."

re-tethered to the earth by the string of eddie's voice, tommy doesn't miss buck's impatient, "aw, c'mon, eddie, just get in me." his desperate, "need you," is clear as day, clear as his afternoon sky irises, brighter against the rosy blush ruddying his cheekbones. he's always so damn pretty when he pleads.

tommy glimpses down at buck's dick, finds it stiff and pink and already leaking a mess onto his belly; he flicks across to the heft of eddie's where it rests heavy in the lax grip of his own hand. it's a beautiful cock, flushed dark and filled out, not quite as thick as tommy's but a nice, proportionate size. tommy knows buck will unfurl for him at once, a blossom to the morning sun.

meeting the bonfire of eddie's anticipative stare, tommy decides to say, "it won't take much, i got him ready for you this morning. right, baby?"

if buck could nod any more vigorously, he might snap his vertebrae. he adjusts the angle of his hips a little to make more of his ass visible, scoots onto a pillow so that he can prop himself up enough to get a better hold on eddie's waist.

"jeeesus," drawls eddie — a rare slip of his honeyed-rye texas lilt — and then, like he can't help it, "christ." his eyes rake down buck's body, idling on his twitching dick before trailing further, like he'll be able to find evidence: tommy was here.

that makes tommy smirk. he wishes he could keep his instructions ambiguous, left up for eddie's interpretation, something like he can handle whatever you're willing to give him. instead, mindful of the fact that this is largely uncharted territory for eddie, he suggests, "start with your fingers, you won't hurt him."

tommy's trusty bottle of nightstand lube is within convenient reach, making it no trouble to squeeze and slather some across eddie's fingers with a lewd jerk. a bit of extra coats the side of tommy's hand and he uses it to rub along the cleft of buck's ass, prompting a shiver out of him.

"there you go," tommy rumbles, "nice and wet."

the synchronous broken moan that the two let out when eddie finally finds the courage to nudge his fingers into buck is one that will most likely play like a broken-record loop within the walls of tommy's skull forever from this moment forward, for better or for worse.

buck promises, "i can take more," with the bleeding edge of a prayer still present in his tone. "i want more, want you, eddie, come on. it's alright, you can fuck me, you're not gonna break me."

eddie asks, "are you sure?" dually directed.

"never been more sure," buck affirms, as tommy says, "trust him, he knows his own limits," all the while knowing he can't make the same claim about himself.

regardless, he casts himself into the riptide, plummets into the undertow and captures buck's lips in a greedy kiss. he licks behind buck's teeth and drinks up his whines as eddie rides his dick along the slick valley of buck's asscheeks. before he even pushes inside, buck's making these fucking tiny wounded noises that make tommy's heart swell and cock throb.

when eddie lines up and sinks, at last, into the place inside of buck that tommy has come to learn and know and adore, buck breaks away from tommy's kiss with something close to a genuine sob. one of his hands finds one of tommy's, the other still firm on eddie's waist, keeping both of them close. he's got a leg hitched up over one of eddie's hips for better leverage, and his toes curl when eddie starts to move, shallow and slow.

eddie's name has never sounded better to tommy's ears than it does falling out of buck's lips now.

"buck." eddie's tone is reverent. he says it again, as though buck's name is synonymous with god, the two a singular entity within the confines of his skull.

tommy nearly has to look away from them, they blaze so brightly. evan buckley and eddie diaz, starfire contained in terrestrial form, crashing and combining and dazzlingly white-hot.

───────────────

white-hot aftershocks zap through tommy's nervous system as he sits at the edge of the mattress, back turned to the two other men. his fingers are gooey with spatters of buck's come mixed with his own, his softening dick sensitive and sticky as his entire body pulses from the dopamine spike of his orgasm. being a spectator to eddie and buck's otherworldly connection — and a helping hand in their ridiculously hot, intimate sex — has him feeling triply unmoored.

he's supposed to be getting them something hydrating to drink; he'd been the one to offer after eventually peeling himself free from the gordian knot of their bodies. evan always gets thirsty after, in particular when he gets a little teary from the pleasure overload, so tommy figures he could use a glass of cold water. they all could.

he tries to will his legs to stand; he finds his knees locked. impulse turns him inward and sweeps him cliffside on the tallest peak of his high desert mountain range. there, he can stand with his shoulders in repose and head in the clouds, squinting far into the distance where he can decipher the unmistakable expanse of an ocean that glints with the reflection of two incandescent stars careening towards each other at a devastating rate. a ghostly whale breaches the surface for a flash, a mere speck on the horizon from here, vanished before its presence totally registers.

his heavy eyelids flutter shut and he mulls, achingly, over the term raison d'être.

he can hear buck and eddie behind him exchanging lazy, smacking kisses and sweet murmured praises.

"you made that so good for me, thank you."

"mm, you were pretty fuckin' good yourself. now come kiss me some more."

the sounds and sentiments soak into tommy's soul like they're meant for him. his lips tingle as though the press of another mouth is against them; his ears warm as eddie waxes on about how fucking glorious that all felt. his heart swoops at evan's quiet, bashful laugh.

upon opening his eyes the fog in his line of sight clears, and even through a blur of unwanted tears he can clearly recognize that he is no longer in the desert but in the sacred place where the luminous sea laps at the heavenly shoreline. the call of the waves isn't far off at all — the surf is actually rippling at his toes, splashing at his knees and calves. he's been here since the night that eddie diaz kissed evan buckley in his lap, feet sunken into silt, warm tides rising and falling around him.

translates to 'reason for being.'

"come back to us, tommy," summons eddie, as evan's hands reach out and welcome him back down to their mess of rumpled sheets and sweaty limbs.

tommy thinks, i could be a river, and lets himself melt into the embrace of their current, stream into ocean, copper into nickel.

#bucktommy #buddie #bummie #this is so fucking extra. lmao #i was in my emo poetry feelings while writing okay #healing something in my teenage soul #i don't actually imagine them being quite *this* dramatic and complicated in actuality but god. is it a joy to write lmao #but i think it still has a happy(?) ending?? lmfao #idk. i just love writing messy + melodramatic + emotionally claustrophobic things #threw a whole kitchen sink of comparisons at the walls of this one and for better or worse many of them stuck ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#also this does feature some of my more unkind headcanons about tommy's father and related issues lmao #the gc is the originator/authority of the fact that our beloved tommy is not the first in a line of tommy kinards #and i personally believe that tommy had/has a contentious and complicated relationship with his family - namely his dad #and that he may or may not have a relationship with him at all anymore (obviously not in this fic because i decided to be over-the-top af)#but yeah #anyway #mine #oh and just a heads up - ao3 has proper capitalization and tags

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robocops-a-christ-allegory · 6 months

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Listen up you idiot zoomers who think people can still make meaningful queer art past the year 2000. We all need to sit around and read USamerican comic strips from the 90s because those are pretty much the only true capture of the universal gay experience now and forever, and anything past that is unimportant schlock. And like pinkwashing I think. We have to learn queer history, thats why we need to all ignore that what Im talking about is joke comic strips from the 90s and instead revere them as the most important work created, with nothing capable of surpassing it. Anyway

#Sorry this stuff is driving me insane I am literally so sick of this shit. I know Ive complained about it before.#Maybe I dont want to spend the rest of my life only watching shit from the 70s/80s/90s by people who are old enough to be my grandparents!#Maybe I want to see shit being made in the present day! Fuck!#Why should we all try to recapture the Bygone Glory of the NYC Gay Scene Of The 80s.#Knowing history is important but you know we also have the current reality of now to deal with. ok anyway.#also on what this is about I hate h/ome/st/uck so much its unreal but people getting really mad about a tumblr poll result #and like it winning over dykes to watch out for which like is comic strips. like #as someone who read h/ome/stuck all the way through. it is queer. Like it did say some resonant stuff.#It does feature a bunch of teenagers realizing theyre gay.#ANYWAY

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hqmillioncorn · 5 months

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When you are near, there's no need to fear!

Cherrypit watched as Babycorn sat on the edge of her bed, her head buried in her hands. Something had happened when they reported back to Minfilia that had caused them to run back to their room really fast. He didn't really get it, nor had he heard what Babycorn had said to her. Not that he was going to get Babycorn to admit to what she had said. She was taking this secret with her to the grave, because by pure luck alone Minfilia hadn't really heard either. "This is the fifth worst day of my life..." Babycorn mumbled.

Lalapril 4/21 Whisper with @windupiceheart 's b'iggy nunh, @umbral-heart 's hanabi and @windupnamazu 's sirius and butter

cherrypit runs around his house and has cringefail moment after cringefail moment. please help him.

“Uhhh, hold on…” B’ig moved his hand around the top shelf.

Given it was much higher up than he could see and Vertical was currently out somewhere mysterious meant B’ig couldn’t ask her to help. It was up to him to get the toy that Cherrypit had accidentally thrown on the highest shelf.

Cherrypit watched from down below. Curious on whether B’ig was going to be able to reach his toy knife or not. He stood on his tippy-toes to see if he could catch a glimpse of it. Normally Cherrypit could easily float up to the top shelf or even stretch his arms and legs out to grab it but there was one very simple reason why he wasn’t doing that.

He didn’t feel like it.

So instead he decided to go ask B’ig to do it! B’ig was always so nice and cool and really really funny!

Cherrypit clapped to cheer B’ig on as he continued to struggle to reach the top shelf all while also trying to keep his balance on a flimsy wooden chair that Cherrypit had brought him when B’ig asked him to get a ladder. “Go Biggy! Go Biggy!” Cherrypit yelled out, waving two actual knives around like pom-poms.

Suddenly, B’ig felt a sudden surge of energy. Like he could do anything!

More specifically he could defeat those final few ilms in his way and grab the toy knife that Cherrypit was trusting him to reach. Neither of them knew it but Cherrypit was accidentally using his starsinger abilities to give B’ig Nunh an extra boost in power just by cheering him on.

“Got it!” B’ig nunh victoriously exclaimed. While striking a pose that was equally as victorious and also very cool and interesting.

But just as he did, he accidentally happened to lose his footing.

“Wuh-oh.” There was an idea in B’ig’s head that maybe if he didn’t notice that he was about to fall maybe he would be able to stay afloat for a second or two.

Alas, there was no stopping the act of gravity as he very quickly began to plummet to the ground.

Or at least, he would be. If a fast acting Cherrypit hadn’t caught him in his hands already. His oversized hands and arms that could grow up to five times their size (or more) with the help of extra muscles being folded on top of each other. Until they were big enough to hold B’ig in a tight grip. “Yippee!!” Cherrypit cheered, carrying B’ig to the ground wasn’t all too hard. B'ig felt about as heavy as a piece of paper to him. “Yay! Yay!” Cherrypit continued to happily jump around with B’ig in his hands.

As B’ig’s heart shaped moogle pom continued to wiggle back and forth because of Cherrypit, he managed to weakly ask him to please put him down.

Cherrypit nodded and did just that. Gently dropping B’ig onto the kitchen floor in a faceplant. A soft faceplant. Like landing on a bed of goose feathers if it was a wooden floor.

B’ig dusted himself off and staggered onto his feet. While Cherrypit tried his best to bite his tail. With his back turned to him B’ig Nunh had no idea what he was doing. B’ig turned around to see Cherrypit looking at him with innocent eyes that told him that he was doing nothing wrong.

“Thanks for the catch Cherry.” He looked at the toy knife in his hand and bent down, handing it to the very trustworthy toddler, “Here you go! Be careful cutting up those vegetables!” Even if they were plastic this time.

Cherrypit smiled and grabbed the toy knife from B’ig. He took time to wildly swing it around like it was a sword instead. Just to see if it still worked, ya know.

B’ig tilted his head curiously, “Does it still work?” he asked playfully.

The process of testing to see if the toy knife still worked of course included biting on it. Cherrypit paused his testing and nodded. “Yeah! Thanks Papa!”

Cherrypit froze.

B’ig Nunh stared down at Cherrypit with a blank smile on his face.

Neither dared make any sudden moves.

B’ig slowly started to process what had just happened. “Pa…Pa…Pa…?” The room felt like it was spinning. “Pa…Pa…Pa…Pa…?????” His eyes were spinning, his hands were shaking.

Cherrypit slowly looked up at B’ig, looking at him and then looking at the toy knife, over and over. Until finally he decided that a tactical retreat was the best option. Cherrypit took off running without so much as a bye-bye. He was mortified at what he had just said that he dared not say anything else.

That was a lie, he did say one thing.

“Gotta go!!”

Something that Babycorn often said out loud when running away from situations that she wanted no part in either.

Cherrypit ran as fast as he could up the stairs of the basement Leaving an eerily still B’ig Nunh behind.

At that point he could almost be mistaken for a stone statue instead of the interesting cat boy he very much was. “Pa…Pa…Pa..” He would remain there for hours until Vertical came downstairs to snap him out of it.

Meanwhile, in the present, Cherrypit had reached the top of the stairs and looked around to see if anyone was around to have heard him calling B’ig his papa. “Blahblahblah…” Cherrypit stuck his tongue out and shook his head. It’s not like he didn’t want B’ig as a papa, it was the idea that he let B’ig know that now.

The concept of being embarrassed about this was something that was probably a bit too early for a two-year-old to have but for better or for worse this was something that he had learned from no else but Babycorn Corn.

As Cherrypit walked forward he thought about whether his sister had finished cleaning their room after Lunya had told her to. In his thinking he neglected to watch where he was going, running right into a certain someone else.

“Wah!” Cherrypit exclaimed, he dropped his toy knife to the ground in surprise.

The toy knife slid across the wooden floor until it came to a stop by the front door of the mansion. “Oh no!” Cherrypit heard someone cry out and then the sound of footsteps slowly followed, quickening in pace as they got farther away from him.

When Cherrypit sat up he saw his toy knife in the hand of someone he didn’t know. Then the more he looked the more he realized the person handing him his toy was Hanabi! She was sitting on the ground next to him, her side-ponytail was swaying in the wind. Tempting him to swat at it. “Did you drop this Cherry?” she asked with a smile.

Cherrypit nodded, empty eyes sparkling. Hanabi always looked so cool to him. The cool wands she would always carry around…The way cool outfits she would wear…

The way her magic would blow people up! It was all really cool!

Cherrypit grabbed the toy knife from her and stuck it in his mouth to bite it. Hanabi gently grabbed his arm and lowered it, removing the toy knife from his mouth. “No, no. Don’t stick things like that in your mouth!” She reminded him.

In response Cherrypit had a great idea. He stuck the toy knife behind his ear, like he had seen a lot of people do with pencils. “Tada!” He held both of his arms out wide. “Thanks Mama!”

Cherrypit froze. Again.

Hanabi looked at Cherrypit with a smile on her face. She looked behind her to see if Cherrypit was talking to someone else. She raised a shaky hand, pointing at herself. “Ma…Ma…Ma…Ma…? Hanabi would remain there for only a few minutes until the smell of a tasty bread baking snapped her out of it.

“GOTTA GO!” Cherrypit yelled louder than ever.

He ran up the stairs up to the second floor of the mansion in a desperate attempt to be anywhere but where he had just been.

In his panic Cherrypit failed to notice he was on a direct course of crashing right into someone else. Before he could crash into that certain someone, he was picked up off the ground by the collar of his shirt.

“Wah?” Cherrypit ran in midair for a few seconds before stopping and being put back onto the ground. When he looked up he saw Sirius staring at him. “Cherrypit be careful. You can’t go running around with your eyes closed.” He reminded him.

Lest they have a repeat of the incident when Cherrypit ran into someone and knocked them right through a wall.

Poor Andres.

Cherrypit twirled his fingers together. He really didn’t mean to run so fast and he didn’t want to push Sirius through a wall either! There was also maybe the chance that if he said he was really sorry about running around Sirius would give him one of those really yummy candies he had.

Then before Cherrypit could stop himself-

“Sorry Papa!”

At this point Cherrypit was just getting mad at himself.

Sirius blinked, but ultimately just went with the flow. Cherrypit had called him that (and a lot of other people) that already. It was the same as usual. “Okay, just try to be careful next time.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a single piece of candy.

The next time Sirius looked down at Cherrypit, he was gone. Seemingly having blipped his way out of existence again. “...Yeah. Okay.” Cherrypit also did that a lot too. Business as usual. Sirius only hoped he didn’t teleport himself onto the roof again.

Lucky for him, Cherrypit was not on the roof. He had blipped himself back down to the first floor and in front of the door to his and Babycorn’s room. Surely his sister must have finished cleaning the room by now. Right?! All she ever did was sweep things under the bed anyway and eat whatever wrappers were on the floor.

Just as Cherrypit was about to jump up and reach the doorknob, it turned on its own. “Who there!” Cherrypit hopped back in surprise as the door opened in front of him.

To his absolute horror, out from his sister’s room stepped out no one but Butter Veil. There were a few dust bunnies hanging out in his hair “If you need any more help just call me over!” He waved to someone inside the room, Cherrypit could only guess it was Babycorn. He knew Butter really liked her.

Cherrypit froze the instant he noticed Butter looking down at him. “Hi Cherry!” he smiled, “Babycorns done cleaning so you can head in if you want!” As soon as Cherrypit noticed Butter move his hand into the pocket of his jacket he knew something was up. From his jacket Butter pulled out a lollipop, red in color. “Here! I know cherry is your favorite flavor Cherry!”

By now Cherrypit had figured out that the problem was happening whenever he talked to people. So the solution was to just keep his mouth shut of course! So Cherrypit did the only thing he could think of and used both his hands to cover up his mouth.

“Mpmmphmpphm!” Cherrypit very quietly said. Without saying anything else to Butter, Cherrypit ran past him and into his room, kicking the door closed.

Then he opened the door back up and using an extra hand from his arm he grabbed the lollipop from Butter and closed the door again. “Remember to take the wrapper off!” Butter yelled from the other side of the door.

Cherrypit put his ear to the door and listened to the footsteps of Butter walking away. He couldn’t take any chances. Once Cherrypit thought the coast was clear he took his hands off of his mouth and gave a tiny sigh of relief.

“Pew…!” Cherrypit wiped at his forehead. Then turned around, the first thing that caught his eye was Babycorn. She was holding a bright pink blanket in her hands, his blanket!

He thought he lost it forever cause he couldn’t find it this morning! “Banwket! Bebe you find it!” Cherrypit rushed forward with his hands held out towards his sister.

“Huh?” Babycorn looked surprised to see him but her surprise quickly turned to joy as she held the blanket out for him to see. “Yeah! I did! I had to clean the room a whole lot to find it but Butts helped me to and we found-”

Babycorn was cut off by Cherrypit jumping onto her and giving her a tight hug. He grabbed the blanket from her and nuzzled his face into it. He had really really missed it! “Thanks you Mama!” Cherrypit yelled out, as loudly as he could.

“Cherryyy…! PLEASE don’t call me thaaaat…!” Babycorn said as quietly as she could.

Instead of paying attention to her, Cherrypit jumped off of Babycorn and danced around with his blanket. “Thank you Bebe!” Thank Mama! Thank Mama!” He happily sang to himself.

All while Babycorn stood by, completely frozen.

#lalapril #lalapril 2024 #Cherrypit #B'ig #Hanabi #Sirius #Butter #Babycorn #b'ig nunh died that day #everyone featured here has full legal right to kill me for writing this btw #the result of cherrypit getting raised by like 40 people in his life #he keeps this up until hes a teenager and then he just decides to call them that in his head #he will publicly call babycorn his mom though she HATES it and thats why he keeps doing it #im sorry to everyone i dont have every reference for everyone on hand so sometimes i just have to work with what i have.......#i love cherrypit hes my little boy raised by an entire world #some people (emet selch zenos elidibus) helped raise him wrong but its ok we take those

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lazlolullaby · 9 months

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wish rewrite but Queen Amaya has a minor influence on the plot, aka: Divorce arc! + Bonus song context changes

(it sucks that a person with so much potential was put in the story but just utilized as the Villain's sounding board. You could have replaced her with an animal sidekick! She could have been a classic evil cat! Anyway.)

Tl:Dr: Amaya and Magnifico's relationship is utilized more in the movie for both plot and character development.

Plot: the same but Amaya is having a mid life crisis and relationship issues with Magnifico, giving them both more depth than "childhood trauma made me a control freak + evil book possession" and "I'm the indicator that something is going wrong with my husband".

(tw: verbal and emotional abuse tactics.)

Movie opens on a book. It's not adorned or flashy, just a simple journal. Amaya is writing in it, narrating.

Teen Amaya arriving on a boat with a small group of people. She looks up, enraptured by the stars but no one else does and she's left alone. There's no voice, but you can see that she says "I wish". Then someone calls for her and she leaves. The next night Magnifico appears from the forest, performing magic.

Then we get "City of Rosas" montage going through years. Amaya as the singer, giving the tour. You see the 7 friends interact with her as quick help, then Asha pops up, first next to Amaya then taking over the tour guide spot.

There's a quick establishing walk around the Castle. Amaya checking in on the 7, the servants and people. Everything is going well! The Castle is humming along perfectly! Amaya doesn't need to lend a hand, or explain what's needed. She's a bit of a workaholic and doesn't know what to do with herself.

She ends up in the kitchen with the 7 and Asha. Dahlia gets a check in, her new medication is working well so she's just got her crutch today instead of a full wheelchair. Asha is told "you care plenty, but don't let it blind you." Asha is the one who says that her grandpa Sabino is having his 100th birthday. And wants his wish granted.

Simon is sleepy, everyone is concerned. Amaya excuses herself.

She goes to Magnifico. "Mi rey. You need to give Simon's wish back. He's not well."

"You mean grant it? what do we need Knights for? We're perfectly safe!"

And with Sabino - "there's nothing that needs changing! I'm all the inspiration the Kingdom needs!"

There's hints that Magnifico doesn't like people too much. "we have to keep these safe. They are the best parts of our people." Implying that he just likes what he can choose and control out of people.

And cue "At all costs" as a duet between Magnifico and Amaya. Starting as a love song addressed to Amaya, but then his focus shifts to the Wishes. Her face falls as she realizes that he won't do what she asks. And she leaves.

(what happens when your picture perfect life falls apart? When the job you have chosen, put your whole body and soul into, doesn't need as much time or effort? When the person you love, that you have partnered with for over several decades, doesn't have the same goals you do anymore? Doesn't value you like they used to?)

Only to find Asha was eavesdropping the whole time. "Wait. Are you. Having an argument? I thought you were happy?"

"we are. It's just difficult right now. It's a disagreement. We're fine."

Cut to Asha in the kitchen gathered with the 7. "They are not fine." So. Lighthearted scheme to get the Queen and King back in love by setting up a romantic date.

The lunch date fails. Amaya asks questions, probing more into Magnifico's self serving logic. He launches into "This is the Thanks I get?" (Less of a solo tantrum, more of a mocking dialogue between them.) And shuts her down. Amaya is stricken.

"if they break up, who gets the Wishes? Who's in charge? I don't think divorce is a thing that Royalty goes through!"

They retreat - Magnifico to a wish granting and Amaya to the kitchen. Asha wants to convince Amaya to keep going, keep pushing for the wishes.

"Has he always been like that?"

"Magnifico - oh he always wanted an audience. He hasn't changed since the day we met. He was fun. We needed that support, people who believe in him, in our rule. back then, when there were so many unknowns."

"But it's not back then anymore. We deserve our wishes. Maybe if we can show him that a dangerous wish won't be so bad, he'll come around!"

"Asha, don't tell me-"

"my Grandfather Sabino! He just said wanted to play the lute, right?"

"not exactly..." Amaya felt the true nature of the wish, to inspire.

"what more time does he have! My father already lost out on his wish! I'm not letting anyone else lose!"

"this is what I can do. For now. Go home."

"I can't wait for this change. Until I'm 18? Then what? I'm just supposed to give up my wish like everyone has? Be like Simon?"

Amaya doesn't have an answer to that. Asha goes home. She talks to her family and has her solo "This Wish" song.

The Star shows up. But as in the concept art, it's a mute boy! He starts the animals singing "You're a Star" - and eventually joins in once he gets the hang of talking. "Here I are!" Is his first line.

Once that's over, Star explains. "The Stars grant Wishes. Sometimes they come down to help out personally. But that was a while ago. I want to find them, but you're the first person in a long time to make a wish on a star." They make a plan to release the Wishes themselves.

Meanwhile, Magnifico and Amaya see the light show from Star coming to the Kingdom. Amaya has vague recognition, Magnifico is mad. "Absolutely not. No one is stealing my Wishes from me."

Amaya takes this time that he's distracted to find Simon and Sabino's wishes. She sings a solo version of "Knowing what I know now" with more personal touches and she sends the wishes down the dumbwaiter.

Asha sneaks Starboy into the Castle. Gets her friends to help. They open up the dumbwaiter and find the wishes. Simon gets his back, starts to feel better. Asha grabs Sabino's and runs.

Magnifico starts to build up power. He gathers the town and tells them that there's a rogue magic user on the loose.

Asha brings the wish to Sabino. And he immediately starts to inspire people to question Magnifico. (Seriously. That was the easiest thread to follow through. And it didn't happen!!! What- who dropped the ball?)

Asha regroups with her friends. Does the full "knowing what I know now" song. Runs away to distract Magnifico while her friends release the wishes.

Star looks at Amaya - "your wish wasn't granted. There's a trick to it, if you want to hear." Amaya looks sad again.

Big courtyard confrontation. Magnifico has been absorbing Wishes to get more power.

"I haven't granted my first wish. A lot of them, actually. I won't leave." Magnifico stands his ground.

"unless I retract it."

"you won't." Magnifico laughs. "Who would love you? You're past your prime, far too bossy-"

"You. Wanted love?" Asha asks.

"I was younger than you are. I had lost everything. When I came here and looked at the stars, I thought I could have anything I wanted. And I wanted love. After everything that happened, I wanted love. That was only mine. But not like this."

"we love you. We see you. Even if you can't do magic or fix everything. We love you." Asha and the 7 say to Amaya.

So she reaches into Magnifico, pulling out her wish herself. Everyone sees that and starts to pull theirs from Magnifico.

And it leaves him as a slip of a silvery man. Star taps on him and Magnifico turns completely into his silver white star form. "That's where you've been!"

"so Stars can't stay on earth for too long or they'll go mad?"

"pfft. No. It's just this guy. C'mon let's get you some perspective." And Star takes him away into the sky.

It fades into a picture that Asha is drawing. Her and Amaya are making a book to explain what happened.

Amaya narrates the ending, telling us that it doesn't really end.

The 7 friends and Asha are made apprentices to Queen Amaya. Amaya starts to give the Wishes back, setting people up to achieve their dreams. Star pops back to say hi and go and grant more Wishes.

The handwritten book closes and Amaya stamps "Wish" on the cover with leather tools.

The end

#disney wish 2023 #queen amaya #king magnifico #princess asha #disney wish rewrite #Amaya gets some workaholic tendencies and Asha gets to be an impulsive teenager #This is basically for all the Disney Adults I suppose. I doubt that Disney would ever support Divorce at least not for another 100 years #...yes I skipped over Asha for another blank unknown basically build an oc #But also the implications of Amaya existing where she's difficult to justify and in narrative is basically a prop? Kind of chewy #Lazlo's lulls #Also featuring a fan-theory of Magnifico being a Star. since his genes come from outer space. and only Stars have Magic #and the wildly popular starboy from the concept art - but throw in some English as second language because he's Not From Here.#Aw no I just redid the older lady is the catalyst for everything trope from Encanto and Turning Red!!!#But also subtext of older women being past their prime and not valued or desirable - then refusing that IS the point #But the intent is Asha protagonist and Amaya deuteragonist. Like. Quasimodo and Phoebus.#Thank you. Love you.

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umbracirrus · 6 months

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Look at these idiots. They're holding hands. I just didn't wanna draw said hands.

As with previous OC sketches, details about them are under the read more. There's a lot of overlap because, obviously, Edwyn and Ingja are a couple.

Edwyn Verne

Edwyn never felt the strongest of ties to his homeland of High Rock. He had no family so to speak of, and never really had the confidence to settle down anywhere for long. It was just him, his handful of books, and his conjurations for company and had been that way since he was a young teen... but even then, he had difficulty controlling the conjurations.

Once the Great War was over, just as he reached adulthood, he decided to try and hone his magic, and ventured over the border into Skyrim, to join the College of Winterhold. His studies were going incredibly well after just a few months there, and he had made extensive progress in taming his wolf familiar, Spectre. But one day, a little rabbit interrupted them, sending Spectre crazy as he began to chase the creature - unfortunately injuring Ingja, who had been out hunting in the frozen lands around Winterhold, in the process.

After helping to return the injured Ingja to Winterhold, she begrudgingly offers to thank him with a drink at the inn. One drink turned to two, and a night out in thanks turns to numerous nights out, and even a few days, as a curiosity in magic had been ignited in her and he had offered to teach her.

He falls for her hard over those few month - just as she did for him. Unfortunately, their first kiss gets disturbed by her brother, and Edwyn ends up with a bounty on his head for 'clearly controlling Ingja with his foul magic', when he didn't know an ounce of illusion magic - not that her family knew or cared for the differences between the schools of magic, it was all the same for them.

But that doesn't deter them from seeing each other. Or running away from Winterhold together, for that matter. Or getting married and even having a child, their beloved daugher Elyse.

They find themselves in High Rock once more, and he takes on various teaching positions to try and earn money whilst Ingja takes on more dangerous tasks as a hunter and mercenary for hire. He would constantly fret about her any time that she was gone for more than a day, though always hid his worry from the ever-curious Elyse, and would relish in the relief whenever she would return home.

As soon as they had enough money to do so, the family moved to somewhere more stable - Chorrol. Life almost seemed perfect... until the love of his life began to fade away before his eyes.

Ingja Frosthand

Ingja had always been taught never to interact with and never trust the mages in the College, and she had no reason not to believe that. Unless it came from her mother, who always seemed to have a bone to pick with her and only seemed to care about her younger brother. She only really cared about what her father thought on matters though, and that was what he believed.

One of her favourite pasttimes had always been hunting from as soon as she was taught to wield a bow, which even in spite of the lands around Winterhold being sparce, she could easily spend days upon days exploring the environment and making sure that her family could eat well for a time. On one of her hunting trips, following an argument with her mother, she ends up getting injured as a result of Edwyn's experiments with his conjurations. He helped her return to Winterhold, and though it went against every instinct in her body, because he was a mage, she offered to buy him a drink in thanks.

Much to her surprise... she realises that Edwyn, and in turn the mages in the College, were just as much people as she and the other residents of Winterhold were. And she found his clumsiness and enthusiasm to be endearing... and she fell in love with him after asking him to teach her how to use magic herself. On the day that she finally created a flame with his tutelage, she couldn't help but pull him in for a kiss... just for her brother to witness it, freak out, and run to tell her parents.

Enraged that her father had the gall to get a bounty placed on Edwyn's head, and to ground her in spite of her being an adult in her own right whilst also planning to have her sent away from Winterhold to distance her from Edwyn, she manages to earn her way into the College before planning to run away with Edwyn so that they could be together.

Putting Winterhold behind her for Edwyn was one of the few reckless decisions she knew that she would never regret, especially from the moment she held their daughter in her arms for the first time. She only returned to Winterhold after thirteen years, Elyse in tow, on the day of her father's funeral. Edwyn kept himself hidden away in Windhelm on that day on her request, knowing full well that the bounty had never been removed from his head.

Though life was incredibly unstable whilst Elyse was young, her jobs putting her into increasingly dangerous situations, the day that she and Edwyn paid for a house of their own in Chorrol was enough to make her cry because she no longer needed to put herself in danger. She actually picked up some hobbies, like alchemy and baking, but never put down her bow... at least until her bones grew weary and weak, before she fell into death's grasp.

To say that she was horrified when her daughter appeared in Sovngarde saying that she was Dragonborn, and there to defeat Alduin, was an understatement.

#meg has done some drawing #skyrim oc edwyn #skyrim oc ingja #unhappy with edwyn's hair but I'm hoping adding colour will help with that.....#i've drawn them at a point in their lives where they've just about started settling down in chorrol? so they're like. early thirties?#about the time where elyse was just about a teenager or thereabouts.#elyse has the same facial features as ingja whereas almost everything else comes from edwyn because fuck the lore #if i had to pick on the spot a part of tes lore that I would get rid of it would be that 'notes on racial phylogeny' book #anyway! these two fuckers!!! they're very in love!!! they make their daughter cringe with how sappy they get with each other #edwyn is freezing cold. he is wearing a shirt which covers his neck and at least two sets of robes.#whereas ingja is just like 'let me just roll up my sleeves to cool down'.#they have vastly different temperature tolerances but he loves his ice cube of a wife and she loves her boiling hot husband #was going to draw the whiterun guard squad but not arsed at this point of the day now!!!! might even leave them be for a time.....#whoops forgot ingja's info added that in now....

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