#should I post the cleaned up version hmm

[randaccidents]

So I heard this line in The Bidding and I legit didnt realise it was flipped and ended up making this while trying to figure out why each half would say this in the middle of ethics class so uh. Postersssssssss.

(the scribbled out bits are because I think that Heart and Mind cherry pick their arguments to make the other look unreasonable)

(maybe I'll post the clean version soon)

.

OH credits to chatgpt of all things, its where I got the content for the text (heck I copy-pasted wholesale for Mind's one cause it fits his speech)

[littlejuicebox]

The other kind of kink.

Written as a giveaway prize for @chaoticgoodstuff! Hope you enjoy the final version posted here! <3

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x Female Tav

Summary: Astarion didn't quite know how to form a relationship with Tav after she rejected him at the tiefling party. But he begins to realize that perhaps he has other expertise that may be of use to the woman. Namely, curly hair care.

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: fluff, sweet astarion, brief mentions of astarion's trauma/past, lightly ooc astarion, idk what else it's mostly fluff tbh lol

-----

“So which path do you think we should take, soldier? Underdark or Mountain Pass? Either way, I’m ready to slash some baddies!” Karlach says, swinging her ax for show as the two warrior women chat while Gale finishes cooking dinner. 

It would be at least another hour and the women were starving.

“Hmm…” Tav murmurs, looking up at her tiefling friend from where she had been sharpening her great sword. It certainly needed a bit of attention, after slashing through so many goblins a few days ago, “I haven’t decided yet, any suggestions?” 

Karlach shrugs and shakes her head before turning to look at Astarion, where he is perched on a log, filing his nails, not more than a few feet away, “Oi! What do you reckon, Fangs? Underdark or Mountain Pass?”

The silver-haired elf glances up from his task momentarily, assessing Tav and Karlach, scarlet eyes narrowed in thought, “Both sound equally atrocious. But if the great Archdruid Halsin said the Underdark is the safer route – which I find impossible to believe – then, I suppose that is my vote. Work smarter, not harder and all that.”

Tav nods, considering the rogue’s suggestion, and with a final rub of whetstone on metal, sheaths her great sword as she says, “Astarion’s right. Underdark, it is.”

“Well of course I’m right, darling! Aren’t I always?” Astarion responds with a pleased little chuckle as he tucks away his nail file. 

Inside, his confidence glows at the small bit of validation from their camp leader. He’d felt as if her view of him may have changed after the very awkward encounter they’d had at the tiefling party a few days ago, when he’d drunkenly propositioned her and she’d adamantly refused. He’d thought their relationship – could he call it friendship? – all but ruined after that blunder. Apparently he’d somehow misread the signs, and she wasn’t looking for sex like every other individual he’d ever known. 

Astarion had considered their prior interactions dancing on the border of flirtatious, but Tav indicated she preferred to focus on their cause, not on intermingling with her campmates. He thought Tav a bit odd after that interaction, and admittedly felt a bit insulted in the moment. He was gorgeous, why wouldn’t she jump at the opportunity he dangled in front of her? 

But, in the soberness of the following morning, Astarion decided he could work within her parameters; he’d just have to find another way to secure her favoritism. In fact, in some ways he was thankful she rejected him. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a genius,” Tav responds with a laugh, rolling her eyes at the rogue as she stands and stretches, “Well, I’m off to clean up before dinner, if either of you care to join?”

Karlach waves her hand dismissively, “Nah! I’ll do that after dinner. But can I borrow your whetstone for my ax?”

Tav nods at the tiefling, watching as Karlach grabs the stone and walks off toward her tent, ax in hand, before turning to address her other campmate, “And what about you, Astarion?”

The silver-haired elf shrugs and nods; at this point he���s taking any opportunity he can to spend time with Tav. The more he’s with her and gets to know her, the closer she will get to him, and the more secure he will feel. 

Or at least, that’s his only Plan B. Since Plan A went up in flames. 

He crouches to gather his bathing supplies from his pack before coming closer to the warrior woman currently waiting for him, “I suppose I could do with a bit of a bath. It isn’t hair wash day, but–” 

“It isn’t hair wash day?” Tav interjects, her eyebrows furrowing at the vampire, “You don’t wash your hair every day? Isn’t that… gross?”

The rogue pauses and blinks at the woman, tilting his head just a fraction as he assesses her, “Darling, please tell me you are not washing your hair every day. I understand on the days we are soaked in blood and guts it is a necessity… but, certainly you haven’t washed your hair every single day for the past three days when we have done nothing apart from lounge in camp and prepare to move onto the next part of our journey… right?” 

Tav cocks her head to the side, mirroring Astarion’s bewildered expression as she asks, “Should I… not be?”

That explains quite a bit, Astarion thinks, as his eyes roam over the unruly curls springing from the crown of Tav’s head. He’d thought it was perhaps an odd stylistic choice, or she simply did not care about the state of her hair, but maybe it was merely ignorance. Perhaps no one ever showed her how to care for the red, curly locks cascading like a lion’s mane around her face.

A small wave of sympathy crosses Astarion’s heart; he internally smashes it down before the wave grows into a tsunami. Best to not care too much about this woman, she could turn into a mindflayer at any moment, after all. And then he’d have to slice her to ribbons, as previously agreed upon.

“Ah.. well, darling. It isn’t wrong, exactly,” He starts, his eyes shifting away from Tav’s face as he tries to delicately address the matter, “It’s just… with a hair texture like yours, you aren’t doing yourself any favors.”

Tav simply blinks in response, her expression vacant; she is not understanding Astarion’s meaning.

The rogue sighs and shakes his head slightly. Well, he at least tried to be delicate, but that did not seem to sink in. More direct, it is. 

A vague gesture to his friend’s red curls and then Astarion explains, “Your hair is dry, Tav. That is why it is difficult to maintain and why you’ve broken more than one comb trying to drag it through that unruly mane.”

A flicker of embarrassment crosses Tav’s face and the rogue groans. He doesn’t know how to navigate feelings and friendships; his relationships with his siblings had been much less work… not that he particularly enjoyed those relationships or cared if the other spawn liked him. But he wanted Tav to like him, if only for his own motives, of course. 

“It’s really… not all that bad, darling. But perhaps I could help you, give you a few pointers? I think your hair could be quite gorgeous – your best feature, even, given the proper care. It’s rare to see a natural redhead like you, it already captures a lot of attention… let’s make it something awe-inspiring.” Astarion says, gently, his hand coming out to tug at one frizzy curl as he tries to smooth over the insult he just threw at his campmate. 

But, hells, someone had to tell her eventually. Even his siblings wouldn’t let him walk around with such unruly locks. 

“O-oh, sure, okay,” Tav agrees, still trying to overcome the embarrassment as her own hand comes to rake through her hair and gets caught in a nest of tangles, instead. She grimaces; Astarion had a point, it seemed, “Do I need to bring anything special?”

“Let me go back to my tent and grab my hair washing supplies, I’ll meet you down by the river in a bit, hm?” Astarion responds with a small smile before turning back toward his tent and disappearing within the shelter to rummage through his vast collection of shampoos, oils, perfumes, and soaps.

Tav merely hums in agreement and then heads in the opposite direction, toward the camp-designated bathing spot, towel in hand. As she’s walking, she pulls a curl in front of her eyes and examines it with a new perspective. Gods, it really was dry.

*

When Astarion makes his way to the river, he finds Tav waist-deep in the rushing water, still in her smallclothes and soaping her arms. Her back is turned to him, and the sun is catching her hair in a flattering light. Autumnal colors of red, orange, burgundy, and wine dance around her crown in the form of spiraled locks, and the elf cannot help but admire the natural beauty bestowed upon the woman.

Her hair was a gorgeous tone, reminiscent of the warmth of a fire or a deep, satisfying vintage wine. But it wasn’t just Tav’s hair that was attractive… she really was quite striking. With the woman unaware of his presence, Astarion took a quick moment to admire the rippling muscles in her back and the strong, lithe arms she used to carry her greatsword.

No one with working eyes — or eye, perhaps, —  could deny that Tav was attractive. After all, there was a reason Astarion had chosen to proposition her over the others in the first place. 

But, sex or not, the woman certainly seemed to favor him, which meant more than once since their journey began, she’d sliced clean through an enemy at his back, and fed him servings of her own blood. 

So now, it was his turn to repay her somehow, some way. And if Tav didn’t accept his physical talents, well, then at least she would accept this. 

“Hello, darling,” Astarion calls, causing the woman to turn and acknowledge him with a small smile and wave. He quickly places his bathing kit on the river bank and undresses to just his briefs before tentatively placing a foot in the water. It was warm enough to be tolerable, so the rogue shrugged and grabbed his wooden comb and conditioner before sinking into the water and wading toward his campmate. 

“Alright, now, get down into the water,” The elf directs as he shakes the small bottle of conditioner in his hands, prepping the contents.

“But I thought you said I’m not supposed to wash my hair every–” Tav begins, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she eyes the bottle, before the displeased glare from Astarion causes the question to die on her lips. 

“Do you want my help, or do you want to continue to look like a sheep desperately in need of shearing, darling?” Astarion asks with a soft sigh as he pops the top of the bottle open and gives it a whiff, “Just bend down and trust me. Oh and here, hold these for a moment.”

Tav grabs the comb and bottle she’s offered and then does what she’s asked. When she’s shoulder-deep in the water, she feels Astarion’s hand guiding her to tip her head back. She follows the directive and is soon greeted by the vision of Astarion’s face hovering above hers, scarlet eyes intensely concentrated as he drags his hand through her curls.

“Your hair texture is a bit different from mine…” He muses idly, as he works to fully saturate the thick locks of hair on his companion’s head with water, “But this conditioner should work, for now. We’ll have to find something better suited to you, when the opportunity allows.” 

Astarion takes the comb from Tav’s hand without a word and uses the tool and his own fingers to work out some of the ever-present knots in the woman’s hair. She watches him for a moment before closing her eyes and simply allowing Astarion to work at the task. Before long, the elf is gently guiding her head back up, into a straight position, and trading the comb for the bottle.

“Close your eyes,” He directs, and Tav obliges again as the vampire places a generous amount of rosemary-scented conditioner in his hand. Then he gives the bottle back to Tav, rubs his hands together, and begins to work the creamy liquid through her hair, starting at the ends and slowly wandering up toward her scalp. About midway through he’s reaching for the bottle again, “Who knew your hair was this thick? You’re about to use up all of my favorite conditioner, darling.” 

Tav frowns slightly at this comment, trying to turn and face Astarion before he quickly redirects her head with a soft click of his tongue, “I’m sorry… I can buy you more when we run into our next merchant.”

“Oh, it’s no matter. I stole this bottle anyway– I’m sure I can steal another along the way,” Astarion says with a slight dismissive flip of his hand, “Besides, I think you need it far more than I do, right now.” 

His fingers trail up to the crown of her head as he speaks, and Tav’s eyes flutter closed once again as Astarion begins to massage the product into her roots. He moves in sections, parting her hair every few inches and attentively working the conditioner into her scalp. The sensation was quite enjoyable; if the water were a bit warmer, Tav might have fallen asleep under Astarion’s gentle, methodical touch. 

Far too quickly for her liking, Astarion completes the task and gently pats her shoulder to signal he’s done for now. He grabs his comb and what little remains of his favorite hair product from the woman. 

“You need to let that sit for a few minutes, at least, little sheep.” Astarion directs before wading back to the river bank and dropping his supplies with the rest of his things. Tav watches as he grabs his own bar of soap and begins to bathe himself.

“How did you learn about all this?” The woman calls to the rogue as she wades through the water, mostly for something to do as she waits. 

Astarion hums as he considers the question; there is a pause in the conversation as he drops his bar of soap back along the bank and uses his hand to rinse the soapy remnants along his body. Tav cannot help but follow his fingers as they graze along his chest and arms, dispersing droplets of water that drizzle down the lines of his abs and back into the river. 

“I wish I could tell you how I learned, but I can’t recall…” He murmurs, his voice sounding a bit far away as he thinks, “It feels like something ingrained in me like speaking Elvish or the ability to read, for instance; someone must have taught me… I suppose one of my parents, or someone else in my family.”

A small look of sadness flits across Tav’s face but she quickly hides it before her companion notices, knowing that Astarion will balk at anything resembling pity. She often forgets how little memory he has of his past before Cazador, how much he’d endured until now, and how much of himself he’d lost in the process of it all. He was so good at pretending to be normal and happy-go-lucky… but then, they were quite alike in that aspect, weren’t they? It was easier to be the unbothered goofball than to be anything that resembled fragility, wasn’t it? 

Tav chooses to not respond to his answer, knowing nothing she says can truly make his situation better, and instead grabs a conditioner-covered curl, “Can I rinse this now?” 

Astarion nods as he climbs out of the water and begins gathering his own things, “Yes, go rinse it out – make sure there’s none of that left in your hair, and then come find me back at camp for the next part. I’m going back — it’s growing a bit cold.”

“Next part?” Tav responds with a soft whine, watching as Astarion towels himself off, “There’s more?”

“Darling, if you want your hair to look even close to as good as mine, there is a lot of work involved. Now hurry up, so we can be done before Gale is ready to feed you whatever disastrous concoction he’s made tonight,” Astarion says, his tone a bit joking as he begins slipping into a new set of camp clothes.

The woman groans and obeys the rogue’s directions, turning away as Astarion strips off his undergarments to replace them with new ones, and wading once again toward the deeper water. Tav dunks herself down into the river and begins running her fingers through spirals of hair, massaging out any slippery residue she finds along the way. With the amount of hair she had, it took several minutes, and by the time she was finished, Astarion was already gone. The sun was just beginning to kiss the earth in its descent toward night.

Tav quickly toweled herself off and dressed. Then she wrapped her hair up in the towel, twisting it around her locks in a turban-like fashion before collecting her belongings and making the short journey back to camp.

*

“There you are, darling,” Astarion calls as he catches sight of Tav, before patting a stump near his tent, “Come over here so I can finish defining your curls.” 

Tav furrows her eyebrows in confusion, because she has no idea what Astarion means, but she’s learned to simply shut up and go along with whatever he says for this entire endeavor. As she comes closer, she notices the elf has laid out even more supplies for her hair.

Did it really require all of this?

She sighs and takes a seat. Astarion immediately sets to work, placing a dollop of some sort of creamy pomade-like mixture in his hand and working it through her hair again. After that, he begins sectioning her hair into pieces, directing Tav every once and a while to hold this or that piece as he combs through her locks. 

“Ouch–” Tav hisses as the elf seems to be pulling at the base of her scalp. She moves to jerk away and Astarion huffs impatiently behind her, one of his hands coming to press against her forehead and prevent her movements. 

“Darling, for gods sakes, hold still.There isn’t beauty without a bit of pain, and honestly, for such a warrior, you’re being a wimp,” he chastises before continuing on with the task.

“What are you doing?” Tav asks through a sharp intake of breath, scrunching her eyes closed as she tries to endure the uncomfortable sensation of her hair being repeatedly tugged at the root. 

“Defining your curls, dear. I’m twisting them around my finger, see?” Astarion responds before coming in front of her and pulling a piece so he can demonstrate the process. Tav watches with a mixture of interest and confusion as he continues, “This will help all your curls to look more uniform. But seeing as you’ve done very little to your hair in all this time, I suppose it would make sense that you’re a bit tender-headed. I promise I am trying to be gentle.” 

Tav grimaces as Astarion continues his task, letting out little squeaks of pain that the rogue pointedly ignores. Eventually, Karlach comes over to return the whetstone she borrowed. The tiefling lingers to chat, which distracts Tav just enough to mostly forget about the pain in her scalp. When Astarion announces he’s done, the woman is genuinely surprised and moves to touch her hair; she is met with a quick swat from the elf.

“Ah-ah!” He admonishes before grabbing a bottle and spraying her hair with another rosemary scented product, “You can’t touch it until it’s completely dry.” 

“Why the hell not?” Tav groans again, suddenly growing impatient. Her stomach growls, and she sighs as she realizes she is also growing hangry. 

“You’ll undo all my hard work! Just wait.” Astarion responds as he stows away all his beauty products, “And anyway, it looks like Gale is just about done with dinner. We can go sit by the fire as you eat and that will dry your hair faster.”

*

Dinner was… acceptable. Gale did the best he could with the two rabbits Astarion hunted that morning, a handful of potatoes, one onion, and a couple of carrots. They did not have the luxury of seasonings most of the time, so it was quite typical for the nightly stews to taste gamey… tonight was no exception. 

Astarion takes a few drinks from Tav’s wrist after she finishes dinner. Once he retracts his fangs from her flesh, he lifts his hand to gently feel her curls. After a moment assessing his creation, he grins at the woman and says, “They’re finally dry, darling. Took long enough, hm? Now, let’s get you in front of a mirror so you can see my masterpiece.” 

Tav is flabbergasted by what she sees in the mirror. For the first time in… well, ever, her hair looks like it belongs to one of the beautiful maidens in an oil painting. Her hand comes up to gently touch the soft, spiraled locks and confirm that this perfect head of hair is, in fact, on her head and not somebody else's. 

“What do you think?” Astarion prompts, his voice containing the smallest bits of apprehension as he lifts a hand to fuss with Tav’s hair, placing it just so.

“It’s great,” Tav responds, her face breaking into a wide smile that causes the tension in Astarion’s shoulders to dissipate, “Thank you… really.” 

Astarion smiles and nods, suddenly unsure how to respond to the genuine gratitude in Tav’s voice. So instead he chuckles a bit and rolls his eyes before saying, “What on earth would you do without me?”

“Continue to look like a sheep in need of shearing, I guess,” Tav jokes, sticking her tongue out as she gently bumps her elbow into Astarion’s rib in jest, “That was mean, by the way.”

“I prefer honest, darling,” Astarion quips with a small chuckle, his fingers still fussing with the woman’s curls, “And anyway, you no longer look like a little sheep. You look beautiful.” 

Tav is not used to being called beautiful. Strong or brave, perhaps, but beautiful… never. Until now. The compliment catches her off guard and her eyes widen for just a moment. The elf notices her shock and his brows crinkle as he pauses the primping to analyze the woman’s face. 

“Certainly you know you’re beautiful…” The rogue continues, his hands starting to work at the curls again, “I’m sure I’m not the only–”

Astarion trails off when Tav shakes her head from side to side as her face begins to blush, the shade of her skin suddenly resembling the shade of her hair. Her voice is quiet, and crackling with a bit of emotion as she says, “No one says that. They just call me strong, or brave… or fierce.”

The elf tilts his head to the side as his eyes roam across Tav’s face once again. How interesting, he thought, to be lauded for things apart from your beauty. He’d never experienced such a thing, himself… though he thinks he would like to. But it almost appeared as if Tav had the reverse experience to his. 

“Well… surely you can be strong and beautiful, hm?” Astarion asks with a raised eyebrow, trying once again to smooth out the awkwardness he felt creeping between them, though he didn’t exactly know why it often felt like that. He moves to affectionately tug another lock of Tav’s hair and smiles playfully, “And with hair like this, dear, no one can deny your beauty. It would be an insult to my skills, frankly.” 

Tav snorts a laugh at this, eliciting a genuine, fang-filled grin from the rogue. Then he produces a bandana from his pocket and flourishes it in front of the woman, “Now let’s get your hair wrapped up. I’m exhausted and I want to go to bed, but I will not allow you to ruin my masterpiece overnight with all your thrashing about in your bedroll. You’re quite noisy, you know? And you snore.”

“I do not!” Tav protests as Astarion clicks his tongue at her and shakes his head, all while bundling her curls into the bandana and deftly tying a knot to keep it all in place. 

“You’re a terrible liar, dear, I’m surprised your nose isn’t growing this instant,” The elf murmurs, his finger coming to affectionately boop the woman’s nose before he bids goodnight and wanders back to his tent for bed.

Tav rubs her own nose as she yawns and heads back to her own tent, on the other side of camp. She tucks herself into her bedroll and smiles as she stares up at the canvas ceiling of her shelter. Someone really said she was beautiful; a small giggle escapes her lips as she thinks about it. 

Before long, Tav falls asleep. And for the first time in a while, she sleeps peacefully, without any thrashing about or snoring. Perhaps it was because her hair – and her heart – were both impeccably well-taken care of tonight. 

[moonspirit]

Annie hates facial hair. If armin ever tried to grow a beard she will get the divorce papers out and not kiss him

Canon T______T (for some of us, anyway, me included)

But also! Bold of you to assume this boy CAN grow any facial hair in the first place!

Listen, I think he TRIES. Because sometimes being in the military growing up, he's thought he won't be man enough without a moustache or beard! Sometimes the boys who could grow proper facial hair would snicker at those who didn't. Something something toxic(?) standards. But after a while he gives up, realising that it's better to be in the category of guys who clean-shaved, especially given how his ability to grow a stubble is non-existent at best.

And listen, I think he tries AGAIN, post-Rumbling, as he begins to navigate his political career.

The powerful men he has to deal with all sport majestic beards and moustaches, almost making it seem like some sort of mandatory condition to fulfil if you wanted to mingle with them and get things done. Perhaps Armin thinks he should look at least the part of he wants to be acknowledged and taken seriously, and not just be seen as some silly kid among them.

But hmm. His efforts are pathetic, one again. He CANNOT grow out ANYTHING, for god's sake!

And anyway. Annie prefers it this way. She always reminds him she fell for his whole clean BOY BOY look and that if she wanted some guy with a lame five o'clock shadow she might as well have chosen Kenny. This admission always makes Armin go all doki-doki (it's rare to hear her talk about falling for him you know :3)

Plus, this is easier. A stubble just gets in the way when they're um... Getting Things Done (Rated E Version). Annie does not appreciate feeling the scratchy scratchy on her thighs, thank you very much!

[chenswire]

overdue Episode 11 post

basically the chenswire part of my stupidly long twitter thread covering ep 11 with more delusional thoughts and I ended up TLing their last scene in CN I guess (scroll to bottom) i wish i had the energy to make 1morbillion gifs but i do not so.. Excerpts from my 200 image screenshot folder it is

So the ep starts off with a super pensive Swire which was very cute when will my wife return from the war energy

And then she breaks out into a super un-ladylike run whaddahell!!!! this sequence was sooo well drawn wtf. handsome

(Something here about how people were joking this part is summer chen because they call chummer 水陈 'water chen')

I like how relaxed the atmosphere was like this definitely isn't the first time something like this has happened, well I mean after all they are Professional Co-workers who do not fight 24/7 (they get into an argument immediately after)

When they break eye contact to turn towards Hoshiguma they basically don't meet each other's gazes again as they take turns to glare at each other its insane... Also Swire saying she should take over and Chen needs treatment... Chen you understand what that means right...

Another detail I love is how at the start they already show her battered jacket/clothes for us gamers to point at the screen and then later who those who don't know/didn't notice we have a whole close up of chen reacting to it...man.jpg And swire leaving right away once she knows chen is fine (and one of her good points. lol. lmao) you guys are sure so quick

Link to CN version of the PUUK GAI LUNG in Paci Plaza I love how she's like 'Chen you stay right there' at the end like she's going to idk fly over ASAP to whack her (as opposed to just 'hey, chen!')

Here's a clip of the last scene with CN dub because not only do we get 'ah chen' it just hits so different...

Hi~ Still there, Miss Ah Chen? Ah? What d'you mean by ah, huh? Aren't you a Dai Siu Ze too? Enough of that, don't you have something to tell me? What happened at Paci Plaza… I'll make sure to sort it all out and file for damages later.

Had a feeling they would go with the JP loc's 'aren't you an ojou too' since you know, anime, but keeping the 'ah chen' and that 阿什么阿 response the unparalleled casualness

You… Remember the Cha Chaan Teng at Sheung Wan? Trying to change the subject? The one near the LGD HQ, right? I used to stop by there on my patrols sometimes. Let me treat you to something there next time. Hmm~ If we go there… I want a steak tomato and egg burger! Wait, no! Like hell I'd want you to treat me to a meal!

the longer pause after 'you...' like she was considering something else before she decided to go with her 茶餐厅 MENTION!!!!! gives this a whole different flavour... chen outright offering the meal instead of swire guessing??? THE WARM SMILE CLOSE UP i feel like im intruding on something

Then send your bill to Chief Wei. I'm hanging up. Wait, don't hang up just yet! I heard you ran straight out of Rhodes Island in the end. What are you planning? Weren't you looking for their help? Ugh, stay down! Take a nap over there! You sure sound busy. Guess I should hang up. Tch… I'm not done speaking with you yet. Was leaving the little bunny (and the others) over there weighing on your mind? Well, whatever. (We'll just do this) Just let me help you clean up the mess over here.

It just sounds so much more casual in CN than the JP dub (which is excellent ofc) >let me do it for you instead of 'ill do it' (head in hands)

the opposite lighting and angle and chen looking away vs swire looking straight #KINO

Don't talk like you understand me very well, Miss S. Enough!!! How many times have I told you not to call me that!! Got it, got it.

You don't seem to get it, so I'll be nice today and explain it to you. Life is extremely precious. You're always risking your life chasing what's right in front of you. Stop doing that. Got that? Your advice… I'll take it.

That exasperated 'Enough!!!' i (turns into a plane and flies away) and the last line... it as 'thanks for the advice' which technically isn't wrong but you know the nuance of uh. kind of, almost, somewhat, accepting a... confession... (of her concern ofc) also CN chen lets swire finish speaking instead of interrupting which hehe... like i said..the flavour hits different. also that subtle movement as chen like eases in more and more between those lines aaaghhhhhhhhhh

their earlier argument was so explosive and quick, but now their banter is so tender and slow like bruh. what. even the act of chen putting down her sword to sit down in a comfortable position (loved that she sat like that One leg sitters rise up!!!) was so ??? the normally yolo speedrunner chen being so leisurely like damn. ok. ok. From 'you think you can order me around' to basically agreeing to an order (Londinium cannon vine boom) I thought Chen being this warm was more or less a delusion that I inferred through in game as subtext (since in game her expression then is usually like her default rbf face...) and seeing it here as 'text' in the show is like 🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯 holy shit can't believe i got FED after four years incidentally i've been obsessed with a certain CN writer's fics lately because the way they write chen like a sad wet dog while showing warmth is crazyyy maybe i will blog about it next time because i was legit taking notes lmao

[coffeelovesdramasalatte]

LITA Ep. 5 Rewatch Thoughts Part 1

(edit bc I started writing this post like 6 months ago - hi! I'm gonna finish going through the rest of the phayurain episodes of LITA finally! I've lost all sense of shame so these posts are just gonna be love letters to Eul, hope that's ok) Hi hi hi! I find it absolutely hilarious that the notes on the final part of my episode 4 rewatch post (which contains my best screenshots of That Scene) has like triple the notes of the rest of the parts. I love the thirsty LITA fam <3 I think I kept it mostly clean for the first 3 episodes but LITA brainrot is real and from here on out I'm putting down all my deranged thoughts into words so enjoy

Onwards to episode 5!! Ok so y'all should know by this point that BossNoeul sang the opening right? I added it on spotify and have listened to it on repeat so much over the last week that I could probs (badly, bc my singing voice leaves much to be desired but I can and will belt it at the top of my lungs) karaoke it now. If y'all haven't heard the full version check it out bc they rap a few bars and Noeul has this line "shake your bo- shake your bo- shake your body" that makes me lose it every time

The recap sees us revisiting some rather adorable moments from the previous episode including PhayuRain in the rain and tub. Imagine if they stuck the leg kiss in the recap >.<

We open to sunlight pouring in through the curtained windows on the morning after. I kind of wish the last episode had ended with this scene bc it would have been a soft transition after the intimacy PhayuRain shared rather than the abrupt cut to credits. But I digress.

Phayu's hair looks glorious out and I wish we'd gotten to see it like this more. In fact I think we should've seen Rain push his hands through it and grip it during episode 6's NC scene. Also the definition of that bicep? Sir pls.

I ADORE how sweet Phayu is towards Rain all the time, and this is yet another example. I love it when characters look fondly at their lover (I finally get to use that word for them!!), cover them with a blanket, and then give them a forehead kiss before sliding out of bed. SO FOND

I just think it's really attractive when people do this. Rain was really missing out by snoozing.

The state of Rain's neck and chest sends me into hysterical giggles every time. Phayu you did not have to go that hard with the marking bestie (let's be honest though, looking at the state of Phayu's neck post episode 6 they both have marking kinks) - everyone's gonna know Rain's officially yours soon enough. Also throwback to how like two months ago (or something like that idk the exact timeline) Rain was like hmph I never want anything to do with P' Phayu ever again. I didn't hear any complaining from you last night hmm??? Also I love how confident Rain was in his abilities to seduce Phayu, so true of him

I'm DECEASED

OK WAIT I think I finally get the whole yellow-blue thing. It literally is just that yellow is Rain's representative color and Phayu's is navy blue. So by making Rain put on Phayu's navy blue shirt for the "morning after" they're just reiterating that Rain belongs to Phayu now. Mystery solved :)

Obligatory shot bc he's worked hard for these gains and I think he deserves some appreciation ft. Rain who's making the same face as all of us. I think they spent like 30 whole seconds on Phayu's shoulders and that's so valid of them

Sir, do you have a good reason for striding in here shirtless and sweaty to wake your new bf up? Methinks someone was hoping for round 2

Ok, and we're back to Rain in a yellow t-shirt looking very feverish. He's holding his teal green phone (case) up though which is a combo of yellow and blue, isn't it? I'm sorry my color theory is lacking. His eyebrows look really nice here and I don't know why I noticed. I hope he has a good nap! But oops he misses calls from Phayu...

This episode's title is "the Calm Before the Storm" which implies it's gonna be a mostly tooth-rotting fluff episode and that drama is on the way next week. I'm already smiling so wide my cheeks hurt so the title is apt.

Phayu (dressed in navy blue!) is here to make sure his precious Rain is ok and Mama is already planning the wedding in her head.

The first three or four times I watched this, I was paying too much attention to their faces and probably missed a lot so let's break it down a bit. Phayu comes in, Rain's surprised and sits up, and Phayu sits down next to Rain on the bed but facing away. Phayu is slightly upset that Rain went away without saying anything and he was worried that since Rain was sick that him driving home alone was dangerous. The second Phayu sits down this way, Rain reaches out to grab his arm but Phayu pulls away. Compared to couples in other dramas, PhayuRain depend on touch a lot to communicate so obv the situation is quite serious plus Phayu is not immediately making eye contact with Rain.

The next couple of shots are just back and forth where Phayu asks why Rain left and Rain tells him what happened and apologies for worrying him. He looks v v soft and fluffy here

Gonna take a second to appreciate the background music bc it sounds so serious and doom-y right now but they're literally about to clear it all up so it was unnecessary to go that hard. Sound artist I love you

Throughout this conversation, Phayu starts far away (which for PhayuRain means there's like 1.5 meters of distance between their faces instead of 0.15 meters) but he moves closer and tilts his body more in Rain's direction as Rain gives each justification. He also lets Rain grab his arm. It's very subtle but I like the acting choices here.

Phayu, Rain is sick. Can you pls stop staring at his lips bff give him some rest (spoiler alert I counted like 5 lip-looks in the next 10 seconds, Phayu didn't hear me)

OK this hug. Exquisite. The gap has been bridged, all parties are happy again, and they both absolutely sink into each other.

Boss' little shoulder rub here is so soft and gives us more PhayuRain believability. We can see how worried he was and how relieved he is now that Rain is safely in his arms again.

Rain's cheek-smushed nod agreeing to never disappear from Phayu's side ever again is everything to me.

I don't actually think this was what I was supposed to get out of this but there's something about the symmetry of this hug and them being in the shape of a triangle and how technically their first encounter as a couple involved Phayu's triangle tool etc. etc. etc. Also headpat alert!

More subtle and soft gestures from Phayu. Rain is down bad.

HANDS!!!

We really heard the MWAH here and I want to forehead kiss whoever placed the mics

Everyone needs to observe Rain's expression right after Phayu asks this question bc it's very sus

(I couldn't get it in motion but Rain straightens up a bit and raises his eyebrows. Someone thinks they're about to get spanked like before)

Except this is not that kind of punishment and I can't believe Phayu really brought along a rectal suppository. To his credit though, I believe they're supposed to be more immediately effective than oral medicines because they absorb more directly into the body so he just wants Rain to be healthy faster. Although I wish Phayu would've not proceeded to yank Rain's pants off without permission, it's fiction and I hope if Rain had shown signs of major discomfort he would've listened. I do have to wonder if Mama put on headphones though bc Rain was really loud with his protests. I also think this must've been funny to film bc if you look closely before it cuts to Rain's mom, Rain looks like he's holding back laughter.

Uh-oh, Mama it's better if you walk away now

This sequence was actually so adorable and funny. I love purrito!Rain and Phayu is looking way too smug. Mama Rain walked out of there trying to name all the yellow and blue flowers she could for the wedding centerpieces.

omfg Phayu calling Rain's mom "Mama" is so friggin cute and I love how smoothly he just slid into son-in-law position

Rain's like excuse me I'm sick I should NOT be slandered right now

To part 2 with all the cute shots!!

[dailyhelldorm]

ENGstars Office Interaction

The interaction screenshots are taken from the global version, as the Japanese server has already deleted the old interactions.

As far as one can find, the interactions are only agency-wide. Meaning that Aira-Eichi-STARPRO, Rei-RhythLin.

For new interactions on Jp server, please view the following posts.

Aira

Eichi

Rei

Side note: some of the old interactions are being translated in these posts from Jp > Eng. Not fully.

Aira

With fine

Aira: What's your secret for being so cute? Tori: It's all about being confident with yourself♪

Aira: H-how did you manage to do that? Is it just a magic show?! Wataru: That's the reaction I'm looking for✩

Aira: Is it really true that you're a master painter? Yuzuru: Where could that rumor have possibly started…

Eichi: It looks like you won't be heading back until late again. Aira: Every day there's just too much work to do…!

With Trickstar

Aira: Umm. Please shake hands with me✩ Hokuto: Do you want to practice for the handshake session?

Subaru: Let's practice together again next time✩ Aira: I think I can keep up better now than before~

Mao: Have you gotten used to the Basketball Club? Aira: Yeah, I'm having a lot of fun ♪

Aira: You are fantastic in your movies, Yuuki! Makoto: I'm so happy to hear that~♪ Thank you~!

With Ryuseitai

Chiaki: Let's go to a family restaurant again sometime ♪ Aira: Eeh! R-Really?

Aira: Here is your present- some water! Kanata: Ohh! It's so nice of you♪

Aira: Will President Isara come to the club tomorrow? Shinobu: I'll tell him when I see him.

Aira: Organizing a large group must be challenging… Tetora: It'll be alright as long as everyone works together!

Aira: You looked great on the magazine cover! Midori: I just posed as they told me.

With ALKALOID

Aira: I failed to pass the quiz… Hiiro: If it's okay with you, let me teach you, Aira!

Aira: I want to see your fanservice, Tattsun ♪ Tatsumi: Okay. But what should I do exactly…?

Aira: Could you teach me this part of our dance? Mayoi: S-sure…! It's my pleasure!

Eichi

With fine

Eichi: Would you like to have a cup of tea, Wataru? Wataru: Of course! Please allow me to enjoy it with you✩

Eichi: You worked hard in that TV series, Tori. Good job. Tori: Ehehe, I'll keep up the good work ♪

Eichi: Thank you for your help all the time, Yuzuru. Yuzuru: It's my pleasure, Master Eichi.

With Trickstar

Eichi: Did you read my message, Hokuto? Hokuto: … If it's important, you can tell me now.

Eichi: Will you feel lonely without Sena around? Makoto: Nah, I'm not the least bit lonely.

Eichi: You look energetic today, Subaru. Subaru: That's because being energetic is my strong suit✩

Eichi: If anything comes up, just talk to me. Mao: I'll be counting on you if I'm really having trouble.

With Ryuseitai

Chiaki: If there's anything I can help with, just say the word. Eichi: Haha. Thanks. But I'm alright for now.

Kanata: Can we set up a fountain in the building? Eichi: Hmmm. I hope you can settle for that pond.

Eichi: Why don't we spar again next time? Tetora: Eh…?! A-again?

Eichi: How's everything going with the new student council? Shinobu: Everyone is doing their best!

Eichi: What kind of manga is popular these days? Midori: Hmm… For Shonen manga, I think it should be that one…

With ALKALOID

Eichi: I have high hopes for you. Hiiro: I think I'll live up to your expectations!

Eichi: I look forward to seeing the strength of a revolutionary. Tatsumi: I'm afraid you're putting too much stock in me.

Eichi: Thank you for cleaning the ceiling. Mayoi: Wh-What's that supposed to mean…?

Eichi: It looks like you won't be heading back until late again. Aira: Every day there's just too much work to do…!

Interaction mentioned Eichi

Tori: Master Eichi has recognized your influence... Tatsumi: Haha. That was long ago.

Rei

With UNDEAD

Rei: What should we talk about in the next program? Kaoru: What about our last vacation?

Rei: Where in the world did I put that book…? Koga: Ugh, seriously… Here you go. This is what you're looking for, right?

Rei: Could you play the Ocarina for me, Adonis? Adonis: Sure. Which song do you want to hear?

With Ra*bits

Rei: How is Hibiki faring these days? Tomoya: …Why are you asking me?

Rei: Have you been enjoying your time at university? Nazuna: Yup, I've been learning all sorts of things!

Rei: You're looking lively as usual. Mitsuru: I'm always going at full power!

Rei: Would you mind telling me what sort of tea Ritsu likes? Hajime: Not at all~ With pleasure ♪

With Akatsuki

Rei: If you're free, would you like to chat with me for a bit? Keito: Hmph. Fine, if only for a little while.

Kuro: Hasumi was looking for you earlier. Rei: Hm. If it's a fun story, then it's fine.

Rei: You're so serious, just like someone else I know ♪ Souma: I wonder who you're talking about…

[cursed-saphire-hart]

Oh, good afternoon Desi, it's me again, your fan, and I'm back with my questions (please forgive me if they annoy you) ... But this is about the characters, and for some clarification, I really need it

Regarding Anya's death in main canon:

In principle, last time I received an answer about the death and resurrection of Anya, and in general I am satisfied, but I am about the logic of your au. In one post on Instagram, you said this:

So why didn't it work with Anya? After all, Edd, Tom, Matt and Tord, as well as Amanda (sort of) and Roxxi also died and resurrected as if nothing had happened, but why didn't it work with Anya? According to this logic, she should have resurrected immediately after death and everything would have been as if nothing had happened.

(And although you can not answer this question, I understand if it pisses you off)

Now about the characters:

Tobi:

I have already received an answer about his meeting with alternative versions of Anya, the relationship between Tord, and the answer to the question why he has only one horn pleased me, thank you very much, I immediately liked this glorious marshmallow just like Anya. What I wanted to ask is: was Tord able to use it in an experiment to create a bioweapon? If so, what would Tobi look like if he was a monster? Can Tobi speak Russian like Anya?

Jenny:

I have been asking this question for a long time, and have long wanted to ask about this. Why didn't Jenny replace Tobi's mom, since I thought since Anya and Jenny are friends, the latter could be Tobi's mom's replacement. I also know that in the ay from your friend, Jenny was Tord's wife, so why did Tord decide to be alone and not with Jenny after Anya's death?

(Hmm, my questions are stupid, forgive me...)

Now I want a little bit about your concept "Monster Anya" (I just really liked this concept, forgive me...)

I know about this concept, and when I received your answers to the question about bringing Anya back, I am grateful to you, thank you very much. I'm interested in something else; Tord first separated Anya from Tobi to give her the serum? I'm also interested in the process of turning Anya into a monster. What was he like? Painful? Highly? Do you have drawings of what it would look like?

I also wonder how Jenny would react when she finds out that Anya has turned into a monster? You said that Tord took Tobi with him when he visited Anya. About how old, or did he take Tobi even when he was a baby? If so, how did Toby behave when he first saw Anya?

I also wanted to ask about Penny:

I already know the answer to why Tobi can't be with her and I'm happy with the answer. But I want to ask about this concept specifically. I know that Toby is even more isolated than in canon and he can't meet his "potential friends" and he is completely dependent on his father and Penny, but how is Toby's relationship with her? Is she mad at Tord for what he did?

And the last question:

As far as I know the concept "Monster Anya" is not used, can I borrow it? Please... I'll just take a few details from there... I sort of have my own AU, but I never came up with a canon for it, I have a few details similar to your AU (my kids have similar names, and i have same combinations with ships (Anya and Tord too)), but I'm not going to copy your au, I just got such coincidences at the very beginning ....

Thank you and sorry for this questions...

Ooof sorry it's taken me so long to answer this one, I was cleaning out my inbox n found it again.

So to answer your questions-

To start off with, that was a joke about the shows canon of people not seeming to stay dead, which is different from Au canon which can be anything.

Monster Tobi and Russian:

Yes Tobi can speak Russian, to be specific, he can speak a few languages bc it was apart of his studies to know Russian, German, English, Norwegian and Dutch.

Why didn't Jenny Replace Anya:

Honestly, Tord completely forgot about Jenny being Anyas friend in main canon. Anya never liked talking about herself, and would only mention Jenny a few times, despite missing her a lot, so Tord never gave her much thought.

And while Jenny would have be an amazing choice, she wouldn't be too happy with him after learning how he treated Anya, but would stick around to make sure Tobi was okay.

Tord DID try to get with other women a few times so Tobi would have a mother, but a lot of the time Tobi would get fussy with them, and Tord would think he didn't like them, so eventually he stopped. In reality it was just an infant getting nervous around strangers, but Tord doesn't know jack-shit about kids.

Also, in Aus like Third Wife or Happy Family, Jenny is very defensive of Anya, and the two remain good friends, Jenny helping Anya be more confident, seeing as she's not afraid of Tords lil power trip tantrums.

Monster Anya Concept:

In that Au, Anya returned to Tord willingly about a year after giving birth, and things were okay for awhile between them. But bc Anya was still understandably upset with him and acting colder than he would have liked, he began to become paranoid, and that's when he got the idea to use the monster serum on her.

The serum was injected into her while she was sleeping, and was a veeerrry painful way to be woken up. Infact it felt like her skin was melting and her bones were stretching as she transformed.

I don't have any drawings bc I'm not very good at body horror, but it wouldn't have been pleasant.

Also, Jenny would have been SERIOUSLY enraged if she ever found out what Tord did, however she was never reassigned to be stationed in Britain, so she never would have found out.

Penny and Tobi:

Penny doesn't know about what Tord did you Anya, if she ever found out you better believe she's going to start plotting his death for it. Since Tobi is very dependent on her, she's even more protective than in the normal au, since the kid's been isolated to such a cruel degree.

Is the concept up for grabs?

Yes, yes it is. Ive said before I don't mind if people use my au concepts so long as they credit me for the concepts and the characterizations, since I put work into figuring out how their personalities are and everything. But overall, if someone wants to use an Au, y'all are free to do it, I luv seeing people interact and it's fun.

Since I don't have any other notes on Monster Anya, you can play around with it to fill in the blanks. Just @ me when you do so I can check it out

[marquis-of-writeblr]

20 Questions Writer Questionnaire

Tagged by @saturnine-saturneight

Is writing a hobby or way of life?

Still just a hobby, but I want to make it much more a part of my life. Getting off to a rough start, but this blog is part of that plan.

A journal full of writing notes or a clean, completed manuscript?

Hmm… I'd say 50/50 probably? During the planning stages, to figure out aspects of the world or my characters, I'll use notebooks as something like scratch paper to sketch things out (sometimes literally) before writing them up in digital documents. But all those notes are largely just for the sorts of things that could cause continuity errors. A character's appearance, the geography and climate of a location, etc. When I sit down to write, it's usually by opening a blank document and just writing by the seat of my pants.

Who (or what) is your writing inspiration?

Oh that's a tough one. There's a couple of authors who I look up to in aspiration, usually for stylistic reasons; Pratchett, Tamsyn Muir, Diana Wynne Jones…

But honestly? I think most of my inspiration comes from the people I think fell short. Like… "Okay, you had a couple good ideas here and there, but the overall story is just… so disappointing. Let me see what I can do with these pieces."

Oh! One work that does fall on both sides of this fence is Final Fantasy IX. Its world manages to feel so incredibly real to me, and I love how it manages to maintain an incredibly personal and intimate tone for all of its characters, even as the plot builds to saving all of reality from the manifestation of entropy (not kidding, the "Not Alone" sequence that kicks off the third act still makes me tear up). But it still has shortcomings inherent to being a turn-of-the-century JRPG, and not all of its characters get all the narrative attention they deserve. But writing a story that I can conceive as an improved version of FF9 (whatever medium it winds up being) is probably my number one writing goal.

Which is worse: someone you "idolize" reading your first draft or listening to you sing?

Probably singing? I'm not horribly self-conscious about it - I did have some lessons once (a long time ago) - but I pretty much always want people to read my writing, if only to give me feedback on what they did like, and what I might do better.

Has writing from someone else's POV ever changed your own perspective?

…Not unexpectedly. I'll actually sometimes do a little bit of writing as an exercise specifically to explore certain points of view. So like… usually, if my mind changes due to writing from a particular character's POV, I started writing with the intent to see if my mind might change. Granted, that's pretty oversimplifying of the process, and mind-changing tends to be pretty gradual and slow, anyway, but…

Tumblr, AO3, LiveJournal, or FFN?

AO3 and Tumblr. I've been active on Tumblr for years, though I've only recently started writing on it. Meanwhile, I've been reading fic on AO3 for ages, and …very occasionally post stuff to it. …I really ought to post a new chapter to my Freyatrix fic, thinking about it…

AO3 wordcount, and are you satisfied with it?

3,744 and I'm not horribly stressed about it, but as I mentioned in the previous answer, I should see about maybe hitting 5k soon.

What movie/book/fic gripped you irrevocably?

Counting games under this.

Final Fantasy IX, as previously mentioned

Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones

The Last Unicorn

The Locked Tomb

The Fallen Gods series by S.D. Simper

Backwards to Oregon by Jae

Heaven Will Be Mine

The Clinch by Nicole Disney (specifically for teaching me to appreciate present tense narration, which I had previously been firmly opposed to)

Carmilla and all its adaptations and spin-offs

The Harrietta Lee series by Stephanie Ahn

A Memory Called Empire

the mountain of unfulfilled potential in Warcraft has haunted me since I started writing

and a whole host of honourable mentions that I'd be listing all night, if I started

There will also absolutely be two or three things I think of tomorrow that I'll be slapping myself for having forgotten, but... alas.

What’s the highest compliment you’ve ever been given, and have you been given it?

I can't think of any single compliment I've been given, but the number of times people have complimented the flow of my writing has stuck with me.

What defines your writing style?

I think it's that flow, again, mostly. Whether it's action or description, I have a feeling I have a fairly signature way of handling it. I think I also have a knack for maintaining characterization.

Gonna pull the "I'm still new here so don't yet know a lot of people, so all of my followers may consider themselves tagged, if they wish." thing again.

[factual-fantasy]

I got 25 asks that took me WAY too long to reply to! :}

I have two top favorite episodes, the cone snail episode and the beluga whales episode.

When it comes to my favorite part of both episodes..?

..Not happy parts...

I have absolutely no idea what you just suggested.

(Referring to this post)

Thank you! That was the intention. :} I was worried that their faces all looked weird..

You want to learn more? Man.. maybe I should post that headcannon draft..

Yeah haha, this blog has taken quite the U-turn hasn’t it? I’m just glad everyone seems okay with it so far. <:} I’m excited for season 5 also! I hope it comes out soon! :D

THANK YOU, I WILL CHERISH THIS LOVE YOU HAVE GIVEN ME FOREVER

Yes and no.

Does he think of his crew as children? Absolutely not. They are all fully grown, intelligent and capable adults, and he darn well treats them like it.

But you bet that if one of them is in danger or is frightened, he’s dropping everything he’s doing and rushing to their aid as if they’re his cub that just wondered out onto the highway.

ME TOO! I always felt like he had this fatherly vibe to him with some professionalism sprinkled on top. Like he’s always looking out for his team because he cares for them and worries about them, but its kind of disguised as him just doing his job as the Captain.

I plan to draw more Protective Barnacles because its my jam, so don’t worry! That side of you will have some more fuel soon XD. And thank you for all the compliments! :}

Daww thank you, it twaz nothin. I’m just glad that people want to see my art.

Well, taking everyone into consideration, the tallest is Captain Barnacles, and the shortest is Tomminow. (This little guy 👇)

The Vegimals aside though? Peso is the shortest. 

(And thank you! I’m glad :})

Honestly? Awful. I feel like absolute garbage, I just hope this will all finally go away soon.

Not really no, and no thanks on the cookies, I shouldn’t eat anything until I get super hungry because everything gives me stomachaches.. But a hug would sure be nice right about now.

I can give you a link to their wiki pages if that’ll help, I’m not really good with my words and you can learn everything you need to know about them there. <:}

Captain Barnacles (The polar bear guy)

Kwazii (The orange pirate cat guy)

Peso (The bby Penguin doktor)

Shellington (Tall Otter boi)

Dashi (Doge girl with skirt)

Professor Inkling (Fancy squik)

Tweak (Green bunny country gal chick)

The Vegimals (Little veggie dudes)

All the Gups (Metal fishes)

The Octopod (Momma metal squik)

Whos the youngest Octonaut? Well, if we’re not including the Vegimals, I’d say its probably Peso. And the oldest is most likely Professor Inkling.

Does anyone have claustrophobia? Yes! Captain Barnacles canonically does. He got trapped in a deep hole in some icy caves as a cub, since then he’s been afraid of tight and closed in spaces. I have extended on that fact and thought of many different scenarios relating to the aftermath of the Octonauts movie, but you know.. still not confident in all this Octonauts stuff so I haven’t posted my headcannons yet. <:/

Novelas translated into English means Soap Opera.

You think so? I feel like that’s not Kwazii’s thing, he’d probably like horror movies and action filled movies. But Peso probably would like them not gonna lie, him and Dashi would probably watch them together.

Well, in my draft post I’ve got two headcannons for her so far.

Tweak likes sleeping in the launch bay for the #1 reason that she can hear the water sloshing around in the bay. Which mimics the sound the water in the swamp used to make when she lived there with her Dad.

Tweak gets bad migraines when she’s sick, so the other Octonauts have to do a lot to accommodate her. Because the beds in the med bay aren’t that soft, she prefers to sleep in her room when she’s sick. But then the usually comforting sounds of the water in the launch bay become pain inducing. So the launch bay is emptied of all its water, the lights are shut off and, unless its an emergency, no one is allowed in the launch bay until she recovers. 

I looked it up, and its true.

KWAZII WAS A GIRL IN THE BOOKS?? THEN WHY IS HE A BOY IN THE SHOW?? WHY DID THEY CHANGE THAT?? WH??? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like this Kwazii more than I would any other version of him, but still, WHY’D THEY CHANGE THAT?? IM GLAD THEY DID BUT WHY??

Hmm.. let me think...

Captain Barnacles most likely doesn’t ever have uninterrupted free time, and even when he does, he probably still prefers to be up in HQ where anyone can find him if they need him. But lets say for the sake of it that he has some free time and he takes it. He’d probably either want to play his accordion, or want to read a book.

I feel like there’s a lot of different things Kwazii likes to do in his spare time, but goofing around in the Gup-B is probably his favorite.

Peso probably likes to do puzzles and play his xylophone.

Dashi probably reads books while listening to music. How she does both of these things at the same time I have no idea.

Tweak probably plays video games.

Professor Inkling and Shellington both probably read books in their free time.

I’m not too sure what the Vegimals would do in their free time though..

Oh yes, indeed it does. 

Before becoming the Captain of the Octonauts, Barnacles had to ask himself,  “Am I really ready to be their leader?” Can he handle managing a team of that size? Can he react to situations fast enough and make the right choices? He thought it through and believed that yes. He was ready.

But he wasn’t. He wasn't prepared for that gut wrenching anxiety when one crew member goes missing. He wasn't prepared for the crippling heat that most everywhere else has compared to his home. He wasn't prepared to become so attached to his crew that the thought of something happening to them keeps him awake for nights in a row. He wasn’t prepared for that overwhelming nausea of missing home and his sister. 

There was a lot he didn’t know. They’d all turn to him when something went wrong and ask if everything's going to be okay. He’d say “don’t worry, its all going to be okay.” but he’s just as unsure as everyone else.

Now don't get me wrong, he’s not this completely hopeless and unexperienced Captain that bit off more than he could chew, no. There’s just somethings he didn’t think about before becoming Captain of the Octonauts.

Now usually he can really keep himself composed almost always. He’s very level headed and very good at thinking his way through things, But sometimes? He just.. needs a break. He usually cant get a break because he’s the Captain and always needs to be alert, so everyone else that sees it usually tries to help.

Some crew members, like the Vegimals and Kwazii, have a habit of following the Captain around when they see that he’s tired to keep an eye on him. Others like Shellington and Dashi tend to give him space and keep things quiet for him. Some crew members, like Peso and Tweak tend to clean up around the place to take some weight off the Captains shoulders, they all help him out in some way.

Professor Inkling will sometimes find an excuse to pull him aside to have some tea with him. They’ll sit and talk for a bit but then he’s back up on his feet and back to work. This poor bear..

..hold on.. was this a drawing suggestion?

Dashi and Tweak would probably hang out in Dashi’s room and goof around. Not sure what they’d do.. maybe read, talk, play games or.. idk pillow fights? I don’t know what girls do on a girls night.

As for everyone else? I also am not sure, I don’t know what all those characters with all their clashing personalities would do on a boys night. Maybe they would all watch a movie? All attempt bake something obnoxious together? They seem like the kind of characters that would do that.

I’ve never been to a girls night or a guys night, so I don't really have much of a base to go off of.. but both groups would probably get together and do something they’d all enjoy. Guys maybe a funny movie, and the girls just talking and reading books? <:D 

For real that’d be hilarious. Imagine if their voices were deep and gruff too but they just make them sound high pitched for fun?

Dude that’d be so funny. Like Kwazii’s up to his shenanigans again blabbering on about some sea monster or what have you, and Tunip out of nowhere just goes,

“Kwazii legit stop, we all know that you’re just talking about some ordinary sea creature that pirates interpreted as a sea monster.“

The whole crew gon be like

If this game existed in their world and they all played it.....

Captain Barnacles would make it through a pacifist run and would be satisfied. He’s some kind of weirdo who doesn’t think of characters as real people and doesn’t obsess over them and cry about them. Overall he thinks the game is pretty neat, but probably not his type of game.

Kwazii would want to test his skills by attempting a genocide, but his heart of gold would get in the way and he wouldn’t be able to complete it. He’d feel terrible for killing goat mom, reset and go hard pacifist next round. Overall he thinks the game is awesome.

Peso would want to talk to every character so they’d all be included in the story. He’d go full pacifist and cry over the story and its characters. Overall 10/10 for him.

Dashi would probably cry over the game a lot and would never attempt a genocide run because the characters are now her family.

Shellington would hate the fighting parts so would delay those bits by walking around and talking to characters over and over again.

Tweak would go through a neutral run because she sometimes accidently kills weaker monsters. Overall she loves the story and its characters, 10/10 would play again.

Professor Inkling would become invested in the story I bet. Complimenting the story arcs for the characters and its creative game play. But I feel like he’d only play it once and probably wouldn’t beat it, but would have fun with it none the less.

Thank you!!!♡♡♡ Man, I never expected such a positive response to switching to Octonauts, I cant believe everyone is so excited about it! I’m so glad you like my Octonauts art, that really makes me feel better and like what I’m drawing is worth while. ɷ◡ɷ

Aww I’m glad! And oh yeah, the animals at the end were always scary. Remember the Boo the spookfish?

Boo was a cute little googly eyed fishy boi who was just so sweet and somft until the creATURE REPORT AND I-

THAT’S MY QUE TO YEET THE COMPUTER

Dawww thank you!! I tried. <:}

[jessbakescakes]

random prompt: donna’s niece/nephew has to stay with her for some reason and josh drops by her apartment randomly so they all end up spending the day together :) thanks!

This took me an age and a half, but here it is. Let’s call this sometime post-snowballs, pre-finale Season 4 Josh/Donna. Also, it got ridiculously long and I have no idea why, but... yay?

Josh tries to be productive on his first Sunday off in recent memory. He gets a few things done around the house, and then he finds himself feeling bored. That feeling is rare; he hasn’t been this bored since he was recovering from his injuries after Rosslyn. There’s no shortage of things to do in the office, but Leo has banned him (and Donna) from the property for the day after a 38-hour shift. Soon the feelings of boredom propel him out of his apartment, and he finds himself standing outside of Donna’s place about fifteen minutes later without a plan. There’s a part of him that wonders if she’d even want to hang out with him on her day off, but all the other people he would invite are at work. 

So, Josh knocks at the door. 

They could always go to the movies; Donna’s been mentioning a new movie she’s been wanting to see. The thought of the two of them sitting in the back of a darkened movie theater while she gets invested in some sappy chick flick isn’t exactly his idea of fun, though, so his mind wanders to other possibilities. 

The plan is almost formulated in his head when she opens the door, but it all goes out the window when he notices a little girl run toward the door and wrap herself around Donna’s legs. “I can’t come into work today,” Donna insists.

“Hi, Josh, it’s so great to see you,” Josh says in his sarcastic ‘imitating Donna’ tone.

She sighs. “Hi, Josh. You shouldn’t be going into work, either.”

“I wasn’t gonna ask you to come in today. Who’s this?” he asks, glancing back and forth between Donna and the little girl, who looks like a miniature version of Donna, but with brown hair instead of blonde.

“This is my niece, Caitlin.”

“Francesca’s daughter?” Josh confirms, ensuring that his memory of Donna’s conversations about her nieces and nephews was correct. He vaguely remembers Donna telling him something about a political argument that her sister Francesca got into with another parent while she was chaperoning a trip for Caitlin’s kindergarten class a few weeks ago.

Donna nods. “She had a last-minute meeting with a client she’s trying to land for the D.C. branch of her company. So Caitlin and I get to spend the day together. Caitlin, this is my friend Josh.”

Caitlin gives Josh a toothless grin and a giggle. “Hi.”

“Hey, Caitlin,” Josh says to Caitlin, giving her a wave. He turns his attention to Donna. “I was thinking about how I owed you a new shirt after the coffee catastrophe. Figured I’d come by and ask if you’d like to collect on that today. But...”

“Well, you can help me babysit, and we’ll call it even,” she says, motioning for Josh to come into her apartment.

“Your sister won’t mind?” Josh asks, crossing the threshold and taking off his coat.

“She’s met you,” Donna reasons. “You work for the President of the United States. I think you’ll pass muster. And besides, I’m here for when you inevitably screw up.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he sighs. 

He looks toward Caitlin, who has abandoned Donna in favor of what she’s working on at the coffee table. There are art supplies everywhere; markers are scattered across the table (and a few have rolled onto the floor), a pair of child-sized safety scissors sits on the corner next to some tape, and tubes of glittery glue in several different colors are gathered in a pile in the middle. “What’s your favorite color, Josh?” she calls, without lifting her gaze from her project.

“Uh… blue, I guess,” Josh answers, approaching the couch and taking a seat.

Caitlin reaches for a blue sheet of construction paper and begins to cut an unrecognizable shape into it. She pauses after a moment, then lifts the paper and wraps it around Josh’s wrist, attempting to ensure that the piece she has cut is big enough. “I’m making a superhero bracelet,” she declares, making a face when she realizes it’s too big. “You can shoot stuff out of it and get the bad guys.”

Josh glances toward Donna, suddenly conveniently busy in the kitchen, and then back at Caitlin. “Sounds… interesting.”

He’s never been bad with kids. In fact, kids seem to like him, as a general rule. He’s just never been entirely sure what to do to replicate that experience from one kid to the next. This is Donna’s niece, so there’s a little extra pressure to seem impressive and interesting.

Donna is a natural with kids, at least from Josh’s perspective. Working in the White House doesn’t really give them a lot of opportunities to spend time with kids, of course, but the few times he’s seen her interact with them, it seems to come easily to her. They’re drawn to her in an inexplicable way.

Caitlin returns to her work. “This can be your bracelet. I made Aunt Donna a crown. Wait! Do you want a crown or a bracelet? Boys can wear crowns, too. They can be princes.”

“I’ll take the bracelet,” Josh says, motioning to the mangled piece of paper she has in her hands. “Did you say you made Aunt Donna a crown?”

He says the last part loud enough for Donna to hear in the kitchen, so Donna looks up at him and shrugs. “I’m a princess, apparently.”

“Don’t you think you should be wearing it?” Josh teases.

“It’s drying,” Donna says, motioning behind her to the counter, where she’s placed a crown made of pink construction paper covered in glitter.

Josh darts into the kitchen and gingerly lifts the crown, poking at various spots with his index finger. “Hmm, seems dry to me. What do you think, Caitlin, should she wear it?”

“Yeah!” Caitlin agrees enthusiastically. 

“You want to come in here and put it on her?” Josh offers, holding out the crown.

Caitlin shakes her head. “You do it.”

Donna slides a finished grilled cheese sandwich onto a plate and turns around. “Don’t you dare squish it on my head,” she warns under her breath, her arms crossed. “If you get any glitter in my hair…”

“Donnatella, this isn’t my first coronation,” Josh huffs.

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling at him. “Where was your last one, Burger King?” 

“Medieval Times, actually,” he says, gently securing the crown on Donna’s head. “There.”

Donna reaches up and pats her head. “He didn’t give me a bump in my hair, did he?” she asks, turning around to allow Caitlin to check.

“Nope,” Caitlin confirms, approaching Josh with his superhero bracelet and about a dozen long pieces of Scotch tape. She attaches it to his wrist and steps back to admire her handiwork. “Now you both have something!”

“We certainly do. Come wash your hands and we can have some lunch,” Donna instructs.

Caitlin, Josh, and Donna chat over grilled cheese and tomato soup. When they finish, Donna clears the table while Caitlin pulls Josh into the living room to clean up the crafting supplies. Caitlin is entertaining to talk to, as far as six-year-olds go. Of course, she’s not about to debate the intricacies of domestic policy with him, but she asks questions about the President - she seems primarily interested in the idea of him being funny. Caitlin also wants to know if the President has a dog (she seems disappointed when Josh tells her he doesn’t) and if he intends to get a dog (she seems even more disappointed when she hears this answer). 

Soon there’s a lull in the conversation. Caitlin seems to be focused and hard at work, slowly gathering the art supplies to clean up. 

“Your Aunt Donna told me that you went to the aquarium a couple of weeks ago,” Josh says tentatively, unsure of what topics are interesting for six-year-olds, but making an effort anyway. 

“I got to pet a stingray. You do it like this,” Caitlin explains, holding up her index and middle fingers together and sweeping them in the air.

“Oh, yeah? That must have been cool. What did it feel like?”

“He was kinda slimy. But there was an otter that was swimming up near the spot where I was standing at the otter place,” Caitlin says, shoving some markers into their box. “I love otters.”

“Oh, really? Otters are nice. What do you like about otters?”

“Otters… the otters hold hands while they’re sleeping so they don’t float away,” Caitlin explains as she clears the last of the paper off of the table. “Then they would be sad and all by themselves.”

“That’s smart of them,” Josh answers. “Don’t want them to be lonely.”

Josh discovers that Caitlin knows a lot about otters. She explains that she checked out several books from the library about otters after her trip to the aquarium, and has done some extensive internet research. By the time the living room is clean, Josh has been informed that otters have the thickest fur of all mammals in the animal kingdom, and baby otters are not able to swim on their own. 

Caitlin is about to explain the ins and outs of keeping a baby otter safe and secure while its mother goes out hunting when Donna enters the living room with a bowl of water in one hand and a Ziploc bag in the other. “What are we up to in here?”

“Otter discourse,” Josh says, stacking the newly collected art supplies in a pile. 

“They hold hands,” Donna says with a knowing nod, as though she’s heard this piece of trivia before. “Okay, Caitlin, you wanted to look through my stash of tattoos, right?”

Caitlin nods and takes the bag from Donna’s hand. She dumps out the bag and looks through the temporary tattoos that Donna has acquired. There are flowers, hearts, butterflies, and various animals and characters to choose from. Caitlin flips over each tattoo, grouping them by color as she deliberates. 

Josh looks to Donna. “Does this sort of freakish organizational skill run in the family?”

Donna pokes him in the arm and Josh yelps, rubbing the spot as Donna moves to expedite the process by flipping over the tattoos. 

Caitlin finally selects several different tattoos, sliding one in front of Donna and another in front of Josh. “Those are for you,” she says.

Josh shoots Donna a look, but Donna rolls up her sleeves. “Where should I put mine? On my hand, or on my arm?”

“Hmm,” Caitlin says. “Your hand.”

“Do you need help with yours?” Donna asks. 

Caitlin nods. “The last time Mommy and I did these, mine got all messed up ‘cause I pulled it off too fast.”

“Oh, well we can’t have that,” Donna insists, dipping a washcloth in the bowl of water. “Josh, start thinking about where you want your tattoo.”

“I think he should do it right here,” Caitlin says, tapping the inside of her forearm.

“You think so?” Donna asks. 

“You have to do it on this arm though,” Caitlin says, grabbing Josh’s left hand. “That one has your superhero bracelet.”

Josh sighs. “Do I get a say in this at all?”

“No,” Donna insists, turning his arm over so his palm is facing upward. She grabs his left hand in hers and pushes up the sleeve of his sweater with her right hand.

“You’re holding his hand. Kind of like the otters,” Caitlin points out.

Josh is certain that what Donna was doing was entirely platonic, operating on instinct under the watchful eyes of an observant kindergartener. But he wonders if she can feel his pulse hammering the same way it did outside her apartment in the snow a few weeks prior. 

“Well, we wouldn’t want him to float away, would we?” Donna teases before letting his hand go and removing the plastic cover of a purple butterfly tattoo.

Caitlin approaches them and supervises as Donna applies the temporary tattoo, impatiently waiting for the reveal. Donna is about halfway through peeling the paper backing away when Francesca walks in the door. 

“Mommy!” Caitlin shouts, launching herself at Francesca.

“Looks like I’m interrupting the makeover portion of the afternoon,” Francesca says. “Hey, Josh, it’s good to see you.”

“Hey, Francesca,” he says. “It’s good to see you too. I didn’t know you were coming to D.C. this weekend, or I’d have given Donna a chance to spend some time with you.”

Francesca waves her hand. “It wasn’t planned. I had a thing come up, and I was going to leave both the kids with Chris, but Caitlin heard me mention D.C. and all bets were off when she remembered that’s where Aunt Donna lived.”

“I made Josh a superhero bracelet,” Caitlin says. “And Aunt Donna has a crown.”

“I see that,” Francesca smiles. “Why don’t you and I head back to the hotel for a little bit? I’ll take you swimming at the hotel pool before dinner if you want.”

Caitlin darts across the apartment, gathering all of the things she brought over earlier in the day. “Can Josh eat dinner with us?”

Francesca grabs Caitlin’s pink backpack that’s sitting by the door and turns to Josh. “You’re welcome to join us, I was taking Donna out to dinner as a thank you for spending some time with Caitlin while I was in that meeting.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll let the three of you spend some time together,” he says.

“Next time,” Francesca says. “Caitlin, what do you say to Aunt Donna and Josh?”

“Thank you!” she says, nearly knocking Donna over with a hug and climbing onto the couch to give Josh a hug with equal enthusiasm.

“Thank you again. Both of you. Six-thirty?” Francesca asks Donna.

Donna nods. “Perfect. You don’t have to run off, though, I don’t mind --”

“No, no, I know,” Francesca interrupts. “It’s totally fine. We’ll see you at dinner.”

Francesca helps Caitlin get her coat on and Donna sees them out. As Donna says goodbye and Caitlin and Francesca leave the apartment, Josh can hear Caitlin chatting to her mom.

“Aunt Donna was holding Josh’s hand, like the otters.”

Donna shuts the door and turns to look at Josh. Her cheeks turn pink and her eyes dart to the floor. “She really likes otters.”

“I gathered that.”

“Probably should have warned you about that.”

Josh laughs. “You could have warned me that I’d be peeling pieces of tape off my arms, too, but you just threw me to the wolves.”

“Hey, now. You survived!”

His forearm is still stretched out as the temporary tattoo dries and becomes less sticky and more prickly-feeling. “I also wasn’t exactly planning on getting a tattoo today. Or… probably ever.”

“Not a tattoo guy, huh?”

“Why, are you a tattoo girl?” Josh pushes his sleeve down over his forearm.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Donna says, a hint of teasing in her voice. 

Josh stands up from the couch. “Want me to, uh…” he gestures around the living room, not sure where to dive in to help clean up.

“I think I can manage,” Donna says. “Thanks for today. Caitlin had fun.”

“Yeah. It’s no problem. Just remember that next time when Aunt Donna isn’t the favorite anymore and she goes on and on about how great Josh was,” Josh teases.

Donna crosses her arms and lets out a laugh. “Like that would ever happen.”

“You underestimated me before,” Josh points out. “You’ll see how popular I am when Caitlin asks you about me at dinner tonight.”

“And you think if she did, I would actually tell you about it?” 

“I know when you’re lying, Donna. Your mouth does this weird thing.”

“A weird thing?”

“I don’t know how to explain it, but I know it when I see it,” Josh insists, putting on his coat. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Donna says, opening the front door for him.

Josh stands there for a moment before he leaves, looking at Donna. The pink crown is still on her head, and her shirt has spots of pink glitter on it, presumably from aiding in the decoration of the aforementioned crown. For the briefest of moments, he wonders if this can’t be their future - if it can’t be their kid who tapes a superhero bracelet around his wrist with too many pieces of tape or insists on giving him a butterfly tattoo.

He pushes the thought out of his mind until later in the shower when he attempts to scrub the tattoo off his arm. He’s had more moments like this since he took a cab to throw snowballs at her window -- or more accurately, ever since Commander Wonderful and his thirteen buttons showed up. The images, oddly domestic compared to most of his fantasies, play on a loop in his brain.

He knows he can’t indulge them, can’t enjoy these fantasies. She’s his assistant; he’s her boss. They’re friends, and that’s all they can be for another four years. Of course, that’s assuming that some gomer doesn’t sweep her off her feet and give her what Josh can’t, at least not yet. But he doesn’t know how to stop them, and they’re coming with more frequency than the nightmares he’s grown accustomed to having.

The idea that she could have all this with someone else is more terrifying than the nightmares.

[thelastspeecher]

Eggs and Pollywogs

This is the final ficlet I’ll be posting for my Nixie AU.  Not because I won’t write anything else for it or anything like that, but because I’m going to be focusing my writing attention for the Nixie AU into making a multichap!  I’m hoping to finish a couple of my WIPs before I start posting the Nixie AU multichap (which I’m titling “Amphibious Tendencies”), so it might be a little while.  But I’m excited to clean up and expand my lil ficlets and make it into a multichap.

But I was already working on this ficlet, and since the last one ended on a bit of a cliffhanger, I finished this up so that y’all could have some Quality Egg Content.  Enjoy.

—————————————————————————————— 

              Water splashed Stan’s face.  He sat up, spluttering.

              “Good.  Yer with us,” Fiddleford said flatly.  Stan wiped the water out of his eyes.  “Yer lil faintin’ spell made Angie cry.”

              “Fidds, that’s a lie!” Angie protested.

              “You cried.”

              “I have a lot of emotions right now,” Angie argued.  Stan got to his feet.  Angie reached for his hand.  She brushed her thumb across his fingers.  “You all right, darlin’?”

              “Yeah, I think- I think I am.”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.  He swallowed.  “So, uh, the egg in the jar, it’s-”

              “Your offspring, yes,” Ford said.  At some point while Stan was passed out, Ford had obtained the jar and was looking intently at the egg floating within it. “Hmm.  I wonder if all nixie eggs are this cherry blossom color.”

              “Cherry blossom?  Ford, it’s fucking pink,” Stan said.

              “I was specifying the shade of pink.”

              “Whatever.”  Stan turned his attention back to Angie.  “Did you- did you lay it or something?”  Angie nodded. “That had to have sucked.”  Angie laughed softly.

              “It most certainly did.  I wouldn’t have disappeared fer so long fer no reason.”

              “I suspect that it should hatch in a handful of months,” Ford interjected.  “Shorter than the regular human gestation of nine months, but longer than the regular frog gestation of a month or two at most.”  Angie rolled her eyes.

              “I know how long it takes frog eggs to hatch, Stanford.  I’ve got a doctorate in herpetology.”

              “Thank god,” Stan muttered.  “We’re gonna need your expert smarts when the kid hatches.” He grimaced.  “My kid’s gonna hatch from an egg.”

              “I’m sorry,” Angie said quietly.

              “Why?”

              “Yer kid’s goin’ to hatch from an egg ‘cause I’m the mother.”

              “You being the mom is a good thing, Ang.  I’m glad I’m having a kid with you,” Stan said. Angie smiled.

              “Did you lay any others?” Ford asked.  Angie sighed.

              “No.  Just the one.”

              “Odd.  Water sprites like nixies tend to spawn.  Maybe you only laid one because it has a human for a father.  Or maybe because you aren’t a full-blooded nixie.”

              “Spawn,” Stan croaked, his voice cracking.

              “Okay, that’s it.”  Angie took the jar from Ford.

              “Hey!  I was examining that!”

              “‘That’ happens to be my child,” Angie snarled. “You can examine my baby when I say it’s okay.  And right now, my child, my boyfriend, and I are goin’ to find somewhere private. It’s darn difficult to have a serious conversation about us bein’ parents with ya interruptin’ every minute.”

-----

              Stan and Angie walked down the dock.  It was the middle of the day, so they weren’t alone at the lake, but they had decided it was still a better place to talk than the house.  They sat down at the end of the dock, their legs dangling over the edge.

              “Can I, uh, can I see the egg?” Stan asked quietly. Angie handed over the jar.  Stan removed the lid to look more closely at his unborn child.

              Not really unborn. She’s gonna hatch, so, unhatched, I guess.

              “Are you all right?” Angie asked, just as quiet as Stan.  Stan nodded.

              “Yeah.  I’m just, uh, trying to, y’know, come to terms with this.  I didn’t even know if I’d be able to have kids with you, since you’re a frog,” he said.  Angie chuckled softly.  “And now…now I’m gonna have a daughter.”

              “Wait.  Daughter?” Angie asked.

              “The egg’s pink.  It’s gonna be a girl,” Stan said, matter-of-fact.  Angie stared at him.  “You’ve heard of pink going with girls and blue going with boys before, right?”

              “I- yes, but I highly doubt that’ll translate in this way,” Angie said.

              “I’ve got a feeling about it.”

              “Hmm.”

              “My gut feelings are never wrong, Ang,” Stan said firmly.  “We’re gonna have a little girl.”

              “Well, there is a 50% chance yer right,” Angie said after a moment.  She reached for Stan’s hand and laced her fingers with his.  “Do ya have any idea what names ya like?”

              “Molly,” Stan said immediately.  Angie quirked a small smile.

              “Ya had that one locked and loaded.”

              “I’ve wanted to be a dad since I was a teenager. I’ve thought about what I wanna name my kids,” Stan said with a shrug.  Angie’s smile broadened.

              “I like Molly, too.  And if the lil one turns out to be a boy…”

              “It’s a girl.”

              “Ya don’t want to hear what I think we should name our son?” Angie asked.

              “I mean, it’s not necessary, but go for it.”

              “I was thinkin’ we could name him after you. Stan Junior.”

              “I- you- you wanna name your kid after me?” Stan croaked.  Angie leaned against him.

              “Our kid, darlin’.  Not mine.  Ours. Why wouldn’t he be named after his father?” she said tenderly.  Tears sprang to Stan’s eyes.  He brushed them away roughly.

              “Yeah,” he choked out.  “Yeah, that sounds- that sounds good.”  Angie stroked Stan’s cheek.  “I don’t think we should still be living with Fidds and Ford when the kid hatches.”

              “I reckon yer right ‘bout that.”  Angie’s eyes widened.  “Oh!  So, durin’ my time explorin’ the lake, I stumbled across somethin’ incredible.”

              “What?”

              “There’s some nice-lookin’ caves behind the falls. There’s plenty of room fer a full fam’ly to live there.  And there’s even some natural pools of water fer eggs or nixies to sleep in.”

              “Huh.”  Stan thought on that for a moment.  “We wouldn’t have to pay rent.”

              “Nope.”  Angie rubbed the back of her neck.  “I don’t know if it’s a good long-term solution, but I think it’s definitely a decent one fer right now.”

              “Yeah, and it’s better than living with our brothers…” Stan grinned at Angie.  “I think that we can live in a cave like frogs.”

              Angie beamed.

-----

              Stan watched anxiously as Ford removed the egg from its jar to examine it.  Every instinct he had was screaming to rip the egg out of Ford’s hands.  Ford gently set the egg into a bowl of water.

              “She’s getting very large,” Ford commented.  Angie rolled her eyes.

              “Really?  You, too?”

              “The egg is the color associated with femininity.”

              “Assignin’ pink ‘n blue to gender is a human construct, Stanford,” Angie said shortly.  She, Stan, and Ford were in the basement lab at the house, where Ford and Angie were making their regular observations tracking the egg’s development. Angie was the one who suggested that Ford track the egg’s development with her, an opportunity he jumped at.

              “I suppose we’ll find out when she hatches.” Ford carefully turned the egg over. Stan winced.  “You’ll need a larger jar to transport her soon.”  Angie sighed.

              “Here’s the thing.  I can’t find any bigger jars.  I think that this is the last time I’ll be able to bring the egg over.  From now on, it’ll have to stay in the cave pool.”

              “Nope!” a voice said.  Everyone looked over.  Fiddleford had arrived, carrying something.  He strode over to Angie.  “I whipped somethin’ up fer ya.”  He handed the item to Angie.  She looked it over doubtfully.

              “Uh, a tote bag?” Angie asked.  Fiddleford chuckled.

              “That’s just one of its uses.  It’s multi-functional, o’ course.”

              “Of course,” Stan muttered.  Fiddleford ignored him.

              “Think of it as a portable version of the tank I made fer ya.  When ya zip up the top, it’ll keep water in perfectly, without any spillin’.  Ya can carry it over yer shoulder, on yer back, or even on yer front.”  Angie looked up curiously.  Fiddleford beamed.  “That’s the best part, I think.  If ya wear it on yer front and tuck it under yer clothes, it’ll give the impression yer expectin’.”

              “That’s actually a great idea,” Stan said. “Angie and I have been getting a bit worried about people noticing we have a kid when she was never pregnant.” He waved a hand.  “Sure, adoption exists, but there’s no way the kid won’t have either my nose or Angie’s.  She’s gonna look like us.”

              “Thank you, Fidds,” Angie said.  She smiled.  “This really is great.”  Fiddleford’s smile broadened further.

              “Speaking of which traits your daughter is going to get…” Ford said slowly.  Fiddleford frowned.

              “What makes ya think the pollywog’s goin’ to be a girl?” he asked.  Angie sighed.

              “Stan and Ford are stuck on the egg bein’ pink.”

              “Stanford, that don’t mean jack.”

              “In my professional opinion-” Ford started, his voice rising.

              “What were ya goin’ to say about traits?” Angie interrupted.

              “I- ahem.”  Ford cleared his throat.  “I wonder which traits from which forms will pass down.”  Angie frowned thoughtfully.

              “Elaborate.”

              “In your native form, you are blonde, like Fiddleford,” Ford said, gesturing to Angie’s caramel-colored hair.  Stan rolled his eyes.

              “The guy who said my kid’s egg is ‘cherry blossom’ thinks Angie and Fiddleford have the same hair color,” he muttered.  Ford blinked.

              “They’re both blonde.”

              “Yeah, but in different ways.”

              “Stanford, ignore him,” Fiddleford said.  “Finish yer thought, please.”

              “Right.  As I was saying, Angie, you are blonde when in human form, but as a nixie, you have black hair.  I’m curious as to whether your daughter will have black hair or blonde hair as a human.”

              “Or brown hair,” Angie said.  Ford frowned.

              “Why would she have brown hair?” he asked. Stan cupped his hands around his mouth.

              “Dumbass, I’m the kid’s dad!” he shouted.

              “Ah.  Yes. Fair point.”  Ford looked at Stan with some concern.  “Are you all right?”

              “No, my genius brother is an idiot,” Stan retorted, crossing his arms.

              “Not-” Ford huffed.  “Your voice sounds…off.  Do you have a frog in your throat?”

              “That’s racist,” Angie mumbled.

              “I mean, I don’t have a frog in my throat right now,” Stan said.  Fiddleford and Angie turned beet red.  After a moment, Ford flushed as well.  Stan snickered.  “Nah, I think that I’m just getting used to living behind the waterfall.”

              “Why would that alter your voice?” Ford asked. Stan shrugged.

              “I mean, I haven’t been able to fully dry off since we moved there.  Don’t you get sick if you stay wet?”

              “Not necessarily,” Ford said.

              “He’s fine,” Angie said.  “Can we please finish lookin’ at the egg?  I’m eager to try this here bag Fidds made.”

              “Yes, of course.”  Ford and Angie turned their attention back to the egg.  Fiddleford joined them as well.  Stan leaned against the wall, deciding to observe from a distance. He uncrossed an arm to scratch his neck, unaware of the thin slime that briefly oozed from the itch.

-----

              “Stan!”  Stan looked up from his attempts to shave, using one of the cave pools as a mirror. Angie beamed broadly at him. “C’mere!”  Stan wiped his face clean, got up, and joined Angie at the pool she had designated for the egg.  “Look!”  She pointed at the egg.

              “Uh, what am I looking at?” Stan asked.

              “The lil pollywog is swimmin’ in the egg!” Angie gushed.  Stan sat down and leaned in to look closely at the egg.  His eyes widened.  Sure enough, the dark speck inside the egg was moving.  “I reckon it’s a bit like when someone pregnant first feels their baby kickin’.”

              “Yeah.”

              “I’d say that we’ve only got a couple months ‘fore the lil one hatches.”

              “Wow, that soon?”

              “Yep.”

              “Damn.”  Stan smiled as he watched the tadpole swimming around inside its egg.  “Holy Moses, I’m gonna be a dad soon,” he said quietly.  His eyes widened.  “I’m gonna be a dad, but I’m not married.”

              “Oh,” Angie said, sounding surprised.  “That’s right.  We ain’t married.”

              “We should probably do that at some point,” Stan said.  Angie laughed softly.  “What?”

              “I’m just imaginin’ my fam’ly gettin’ invitations to a wedding where they haven’t even heard of the groom ‘fore.”

              “Wait.”

              “Oh.  Oh no.” Stan and Angie stared at each other. “I never told my fam’ly ‘bout ya.”

              “We’ve been dating for months!  We’re gonna be parents soon!”

              “I- well-” Angie spluttered.  “Have you told yer fam’ly ‘bout me?” she shot back.

              “Touché.  But you talk to your family a lot more than I talk to mine.”

              “Yeah.”  Angie rubbed the back of her neck nervously.  “There’s just- a lot has happened very quickly.  We first met a lil over a year ago, ‘member?”

              “That was only a year ago?”

              “A bit more,” Angie corrected.

              “Still.”  Stan looked back at the egg.  “Damn. We moved fast.”

              “Apparently.”  Angie groaned, kneading her forehead.  “Oh, Lord. They’re all goin’ to blow their gaskets.”

              “Especially when you mention the kid,” Stan pointed out. Angie groaned louder.  “I wonder how easily we’ll be able to get the kid to look human…”  After a moment, Angie nodded.

              “Good point.  Maybe we wait to mention we have a child until that child can hide its gills.”

-----

              Stan scowled as he watched Lute stare at the egg. Angie had called her family to let them know she had a serious boyfriend about a month ago.  Earlier that week, her older brother, Lute, had showed up determined to find out Stan’s “intentions” with his younger sister. Before Stan knew what was happening, Lute had discovered Angie was a nixie, as well as the existence of the egg.

              And now, he’s in my home, gaping at my unhatched kid like it’s the star freak in a sideshow.  Stan cleared his throat.

              “All right, are you satisfied?” he asked tartly. Lute nodded, still staring at the egg. “Great.  Now-”

              “Is it s’pposed to be movin’?” Lute interrupted. Everyone looked over at the egg. Sure enough, it was rocking back and forth in the small pool.  Stan looked at Angie.  Her eyes were wide.  She quickly got into the pool with the egg.

              “Are you all right, honey?” she asked quietly, stroking the egg.  The egg rocked more violently as the tadpole pushed against the membrane.  Then, before their eyes, a tear formed.  “Oh my- oh my goodness.”  The tadpole slid out of the egg, into the water.  Stan fell to his knees by the side of the pool.

              “Holy shit,” he whispered.  Ford, Fiddleford, and Lute knelt as well.

              “I think we just watched our new niece or nephew get born,” Ford commented.  The freshly hatched tadpole, the size of a human newborn, was swimming happily around the pool.  Unlike Angie, whose nixie skin was green, the tadpole had mottled brown skin, and, like a regular tadpole, had a tail instead of legs.  “Angie, is your child male or female?”

              “I, uh, I’m not sure,” Angie said after a moment. She caught the tadpole with her arms, hugging it close.  “Determining sex of amphibians isn’t easy to do.”  Stan sat down and dangled his legs in the pool.

              “C’mere, Ang.”  Angie came over, still holding the tadpole.  Stan looked down at his child, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Most of the tadpole’s features in nixie form were very similar to Angie’s.  There were a couple differences, namely that the tadpole’s nose looked like Angie’s human one, not her nixie one.  The only other difference aside from skin color, was the tadpole’s eye color.  Brown, not blue.  Stan smiled.

              The kid’s got my eyes.

              “Hey, kiddo,” Stan said quietly.  The tadpole looked up at him curiously.  “I might be a human, but I’m still your dad, got it?” The tadpole blinked.  “Good work, babe.  The kid’s just as gorgeous as you are.”  Angie chuckled softly.  Stan leaned over and kissed her.  The moment his lips touched Angie’s, a strange prickling sensation spread across Stan’s skin.

              “What in the-” Lute muttered.  Ford swore softly.  Stan broke off the kiss to look at their audience.

              “What, you’ve never seen a guy kiss his gal?” he demanded.  His eyes widened at the suddenly much lower pitch to his voice, as well as the change in tone.  Fiddleford and Lute’s jaws dropped.

              “Ya don’t sound like a smoker no more,” Lute said after a moment.  He gestured to Stan.  “Maybe it has somethin’ to do with whatever just happened to yer skin.”

              “My skin?”  Stan looked down at his hands.  His jaw dropped.  His skin was soft and slimy like Angie’s, mottled brown like their tadpole’s. “Uh…”

              “I warned you, Stanley,” Ford said.  Stan looked up at his twin.  To his surprise, Ford looked more amused than upset.  “I warned you that if you continued to interact with Angie in nixie form, you would become a magical creature yourself.”

              “That’s what just happened?” Lute asked.  “But he don’t look anything like Angie or the, uh, the pollywog!  His skin and voice changed, that’s all.”

              “Okay, I need to get a good look at myself,” Stan muttered.  Angie scooted away so that Stan could use the pool to look at his reflection.  Stan leaned over, staring at the water.  Like Lute had said, his features had remained the same, though his skin was now of the same texture as Angie and the tadpole. His face and the front of his body were a pale brown, with dark brown mottling around his sides.  “I look like the missing link between myself and Angie.” Angie snickered softly.

              “This is just an intermediate stage,” Ford said. “I have no doubts that you’ll soon complete your transformation into a nixie.”

              “Huh.”  Stan looked up at Angie.  “Guess you don’t get to hog all the fresh bait now.”

              “Pardon?” Lute asked.  Stan looked over his shoulder.

              “You’re still here?” he drawled.  Lute scowled.

              “Stan’s got a point,” Angie said.  “Would the three of you mind leaving us alone for some quality time with our little pollywog?”  Ford, Fiddleford, and Lute got up.

              “Ya best bring that lil one of ya over first thing tomorrow, okay?” Fiddleford instructed.  Stan waved a hand airily, noting absently that thin webbing stretched between his otherwise unchanged fingers.

              “Yeah, yeah.  Now, beat it.”  Their brothers left.  Stan looked at Angie.  He winked. “Hey, babe.”  Angie giggled.  Stan removed his clothes and slid into the pool with Angie.  Angie, still holding the tadpole, scooted over to be next to Stan.

              “Given your color and the little one’s color, I wonder if our kidlet might be a boy,” Angie said, stroking the tadpole.

              “Are you sure?”

              “No.  But it’s our best lead.  So until we have some other piece of evidence, should we call the kidlet our son?” Angie asked.  Stan grinned.

              “I’ve always wanted a son, so, I’m down for it.”

              “Hmm, or maybe you’re just happy because the name we came up with for a boy was Stan Junior,” Angie teased.  She kissed his cheek.  Stan felt another strange tingling, but this time, concentrated around his hands and feet.  He looked down at his hands.  They were now large and webbed like Angie’s.  “Whoops.”

              “Eh.  I’m gonna turn all nixie at some point,” Stan said with a shrug.  He looped an arm around Angie’s shoulders.  She leaned against him.  Stan stroked his son’s bald head.  “Junior, I’m glad you’re here,” he said quietly.  Angie smiled.

              “So am I.”

[nebulein]

GUYS I just finished the first draft for both the Trevor/Pkane winner's room and its Trevor does Vegas sequel today and I feel like I need a minute to just breathe and maybe shed a tear or three.

TZPKane winner's room (or "88 minutes in heaven") currently comes it at just shy of 17k (we'll see where it lands after editing because that fic needs some serious work, woof) and Trevor does Vegas is a sweet cute 8k. This means they both rank among the top longest fics I've ever written alone and finished.

I can't wait to get these suckers cleaned up and posted but until then, have another snippet.

“Look around you,” Kaner instructs and Trevor opens his eyes that he’d pre-emptively closed waiting for Kaner’s rejection to hit him. “Where are we?”

It’s a nondescript room, bland like all the others. White walls, gray floor. A bed with no blankets, sheets in team colors (which in this case means Hawks red), and the toy cabinet that both parties have to sign a special release form to unlock. Back in the olden days these rooms must have been a lot more kinky, featuring fuck benches and crosses and padded manacles. Some days Trevor thinks it might have been fun, get somebody to tie him up and pretend to have his way with Trevor. Most days, he doesn’t miss it. He isn’t in it for some fucked up version of punishment or whatever. These are fun, easy, no strings attached sex. “We’re in a winner’s room.”

Kaner makes an approving sound. “Why are you here?”

“Because we lost.” He wants to add ‘because you picked me’, stubborn and defiant, but something holds him back, some instinct that this isn’t what Kaner wants to hear right now. There’ll be time to gloat about it later. Right now, it’s essential that Trevor gets this right. No room for error.

Another positive “hmm”, Kaner’s hand moving on Trevor’s dick again. Trevor’s almost trembling with coiled up tension, not daring to make a move, feeling like he’s hovering on the edge of a precipice here. One misstep and it’s all over.

“Now tell me again, why should you suck my dick?”

And suddenly it clicks, something slotting into place, the knowledge what Kaner’s after here making Trevor’s voice steady. “Because you scored a goal and I didn’t.”

Because Kaner is better than him. Because Kaner will always be better.

“See,” Kaner says approvingly even as he takes his hand off Trevor’s dick, stepping away, leaving nothing but cold air rushing over Trevor’s back and down his spine, “I knew you were smarter than you looked.”

Trevor has to bite his cheek to keep from making a sound, swallowing the pathetic mewling whimper that’s clawing up his throat at the loss of Kaner’s touch, his body heat. He feels like he just lost more than Kaner’s physical attention.

Round 1: Kane 1 - Zegras 0.

[manifestingdestiel]

Take Me To Church

(Long post, sorry!)

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.

“Hiya, Father.” Dean moves around a bit to get comfortable and thinks about what he could ‘confess’ to in order to bait the monster they were after.

“Pardon me?” The priest is confused by being addressed informally. This was surely not one of his regular church goers. Perhaps this person was new to the faith. Father Delaney looks over and it was officer Allman from before. What sins would he confess to?

“Pardon you? I thought it was the other way around.” He chuckles at his own joke, which he does because he feel out of his element. To Dean, praying was like abasement, calling out into the void… no idea if anyone is even listening. Groveling at the universe. “Just…it’s…” He clears his throat. “So, uh, I’m here to– here to clean house. I need to get some things off my chest.” Dean hadn’t planned beforehand what he would say to the priest but he new it had to be horrid enough to bait the being who had been killing the congregation. It was all unfaithful men… promiscuous… Dean knew what he could say to get the -ghost or spectre or whatever they were dealing with here- all riled up.

Father Delaney nods and prepares himself to be patient and understanding and non-judgemental. He had no clue what Dean would confess to, but he was prepared to listen and support him. “Oh. All right. Continue.”

Dean tries to make another joke to cover up his nervousness. “I’ve never done this before, so… here goes? Gosh, if I had known these benches were so stiff I would have brought a pillow or something!” He chuckles and looks at the ground, contemplating. If this goes wrong would he end up killing himself or Sam? Dean decided to cast such thoughts away. He decided he might as well just go for whatever story he could make up to make him sound as like as much of a jerk as possible. “Um…it’s the... women, Father. Where do I begin?” He chuckles.

The Father chuckles. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” is usual.

“Right. Good. Yeah. So, uh... that, and, um… so, the women. Uh, and this is not something that I’m proud of, but I let them think that we have more of a future than we do, you know?” Dean remembers a time and reminisces for a moment. “Ah, Gina…” He smiles slightly, and then sighs.

“Gina?” Dean’s attention is brought back to the Priest. Right, he had a job to do. Might as well sell it like he did the neighborhood watch persona. He took a deep breath and looked around in the confessional to see if he could spot any peeping toms or listening ears. Dean didn’t quite feel comfortable revealing anything true about himself, especially since he knew someone would be listening.

“Well, now, don’t get me wrong. I mean, she was – it was good times. I mean, you know how it is – the sex, the lasagna – but I was not honest with her. And sometimes, I was seeing two, maybe three girls at the same time, sometimes in the same day. Haha, you get the picture. And it wasn’t just Gina. It was endless. It’s making me sick…”

Now there was some truth to that last line. His sleeping around has resulted in nothing good. Ben might have been, maybe is his son. Sam had to kill his Amazonian daughter. All it did was temporarily fill the void, just to leave it empty again. At least he felt something different. Something that wasn’t the guilt, pain, resent, and confusion that he walked with everyday. But, he wouldn’t be able to tell Sam any of this. It wasn’t because he wouldn’t understand. It was really because he had to keep up the image of invincible big brother, it was because he wouldn’t know where to begin with how to express himself. There’s so many emotions he doesn’t know how to describe, so many he suppresses… There’s so much inside of him that he feels. Some days he doesn’t think twice about it and other days it’s all he can think about. Each day it gets a little bit harder for Dean and he knows it. He doesn’t want to admit it but he knows it. Dean can’t believe he’s getting emotional with a near stranger. He blinks away a few would-be tears and takes a deep breath.

The Priest looks over at him concerned and then nods slowly. “And you wish to be forgiven, my son?”

Dean clears his throat and remembers to keep up with his performance. He has a job to do. “I do. I-I need to clean up my act…” He smiles, a transparent facade.

Father Delaney examines Dean and sees the anguish within his micro expressions. He wouldn’t pry, for sake of privacy but he did want to be sure and help Dean in any way he could. “As penance, you shall say five ‘Hail Mary’s’ two ‘Our Father’s ’, and reflect on your transgressions.”

“And then, that’s it? then I’m good to go?”

“Well… One would hope some inner exploration might occur. The prayers are just the beginning to some serious soul-searching.”

“Hmm… You done any soul searching yourself, Father?” Dean begins to wonder if perhaps he should suspect the priest.

“That, I have. I continue to do what I can, when I can. We all have our crosses to bear, agent. But it doesn’t mean we are alone. There will be peace when we are done.”

Dean is lost in thought for a moment, reliving all of the recent events, and some of the past ones. Was peace in the cards for Dean? He thought he deserved less.

Father Delaney sighs and looks ahead, thinking that perhaps if he didn’t look at him, then Dean would feel more comfortable and less like he’s being held on trial. “Is there anything else on your mind, Agent Allman?”

Dean chuckles, using laughter to mask his fear and anxiety; his weariness and his frustrations. “I don’t know…” Dean looks over at the priest and sighs. “There’s a lot of things I got on my plate… with the job, you know. It’s bloody. Messy. I have seen things that you wouldn’t believe...“ Dean looks down. “I just…”

“It’s alright, son, take your time.” He reassured Dean.

“What if I said I…I didn’t want to die…yet, you know, that I wasn’t ready?”

The Father asks a question. “Are you expecting to?”

“Always. You know, the life I live, the work I do…I pretty much just figured that that was all there was to me, you know? Tear around and jam the key in the ignition and haul ass until I ran out of gas. I guess I just thought sooner or later, I’d go out the same way that I live – pedal to the metal, and that would be it.” There’s a tense tightness in his chest as he says this. He thought that all he was worth was worth. Canon fodder. Soldier. Scapegoat. He thought he would die bloody and that would be it.

The Father noticed Dean spoke in past tense which led to another question. “But now?”

“Now, um… recent events, uh… make me think I might be closer to that than I really thought. And…I don’t know. It- It’s terrifying. I mean, you know, there’s still so much I feel I have left to do. There’s things I want to do, places I want to see... There’s… people in my life I want to spend more time with….” Dean pauses for a while after that.

“Unfinished business? Well you should tell those people how you feel. Tell them you appreciate them. Tell them you love them. Lots of people regret not doing that before it was too late. And I certainly hope it’s not too late for you, my son.”

Dean nods slowly. “There’s all these new feelings that I-I-I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time…”

The priest smiles slightly. “I see…” He looks over at Dean and nods. “They…” He paused for emphasis, must be very special to you. “ Dean nods and his heart feels heavy. “Go a little deeper, perhaps… than with ‘Gina’s. Explore yourself some more.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m just starting to think that… maybe there’s more to it all than I thought. I used to operate in a small little,” he glances and The Father and chuckles, “department, you could say. Same old rodeo everyday, and on Thursdays we have pie.” He smiles. “But now there’s a whole lot more out there. I learn a bit more every day. I always thought it would just be black and white, you know? Simple job. Catch the baddie, go home. But now a whole wide world has opened up, and… maybe it’s not all junk…” Dean clears his throat. “I just mean to say, that after a certain encounter a few years back, things have changed. Everything. It made me realize some things…”

Father Delaney nods. “Learning there’s more to the universe than your tiny world can be a frightening discovery. Especially when it prompts you to rediscover parts of yourself...” The Priest looks over at Dean. “Do you truly believe in God, Agent? Because that can be a comfort.”

Dean sighs. “I believe there is a God. But I’m not sure he still believes in us.” He falters, and then clears his throat.

“It’s okay to have doubts. We all have them. You just have to find your truth and what you believe for yourself. I believe we are all God’s children, Agent Allman. That there are angels above watching over us. I believe that no matter what happens, we will be where we need to be, when we need to be there. It will all work itself out. Have faith and you shall see.”

“Faith, trust and pixie dust. Got it.” Dean smiles and waits for a bit before standing. “Thanks Padre.”

Dean walks out of the confessional feeling lighter. He had forgotten he and Sam were working a job, and he shuddered. It was time to get back to work. He tucked away his vulnerability once again.

.

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There’s a little headcanon of mine 😌 This is what happened in my version of spn, so to speak. 😁 this is what I think took Dean so long. Hope you enjoyed 😝

(Edited)

[flowerbloom-arts]

A rather unneeded apology, don't you think?

Progress shots and thought process below the cut (warning, it gets heavy on pshycological analytical nonsense and spoilers for Exploits of Moominpappa/'s Memoirs, and it's really long):

Ah yes, Muddler angst, something that should be one too many yet you can't quite get enough of it-

So it all started with this little metaphor from this post I made a while back and I thought "Hmm... I should really make a follow-up for that!" so I did, and here it is.

This was originally gonna be a lineless painting but then when I started to do that I thought about how much of a drag it would be and scrapped that for my regular style but with cooler shading and coloring. I'm happy with it, it's been a while since I've done a full illustration and I'm proud that I managed to make this in like... (Checks timer on my drawing app) 2 hours and 25 minutes? Huh.

Anyway, this whole illustration is more or less just a metaphor going on in Muddler's head when he's cracked under stress, it's the "boat floating on your own personal ocean" metaphor like the post I linked above, it is indeed a constantly raging sea of stress and change and mental/lifestyle instability that's going on in Muddler's head and he's on a houseboat floating on it trying to balance and protect itself from the tides. It's always rocking back and forth but it's been doing that all the time for so long that it barely registers for him anymore, so he's living in this unnerving calm where the calm is not serenity perse but a lack of terror, yet, sometimes that raging sea manages to break through a window or two and flood the place as a good reminder that he isn't immune, he can and will drown for as long as things are like this.

The sea isn't a place of good memories for Muddler in either version of the book, like, the sea is so big that it's general emptiness on the horizon tickles his eyes. Before that he painted the boat red and got it all over himself and then painted his tin with the leftover paint, needless to say he had a rather traumatic night where the paint never dried and it got all over his food and bed and whiskers which drove him insane (or plume crazy I should say). He also had a rough time in his tin while packing for the riverboat and being swept away by the flood caused by Edward the Booble, he said his nerves (and his button collection) were all unsorted after the rest of the crew managed to get the tin on board. Then other stuff happens- an awful Hemulen Aunt boarding the ship (he literally wished death upon her, a rather extreme gesture especially for Muddler), the Hemulen Aunt being taken away by the Niblings (and the ensuing guilt he felt when he felt that it was his fault since he wished for her to be eaten), a rough and sticky night, being the first to realise the boat was setting off to sea unintentionally in the middle of the night, having to sit through a gale in which he got very sick- and that's just stuff that happened on the boat! He also had to suffer the likes of the revenge of the forgotten bones! The Ghost painted Muddler's tin and he cried about it, thinking it's a warning sign that he'll never marry! And he's the only one who was legitimately terrified of the Ghost, imagine being one of like, a 4 person friend group and being the only one scared of a real scary thing that directly affected you in one of the worst ways possible- vandalism of your own home. And don't even get me started on the fact that he lost his parents during spring cleaning and still believes they're alive.

With that being said, I believe we all understand that Muddler has been through alot, he had a revelation that adventures cause nothing but trouble for the poor guy in the middle of the book. And seeing how he cried at the idea of never getting married, we can presume he just wants a normal life after that. Thankfully, Fuzzy provided that through marriage and kids, even though they lost one of them by accident.

Now with this in mind, I have implemented a few elements from the book into the illustration. I've also followed some color-coding rules I've made up for myself;

Blue=Safety and comfort (Hodgkins is his uncle and is canonically blue-colored for the most part, not to mention that his Maxwell House Coffee tin is blue aswell, both are sources of safety for Muddler)

Green=Protection (Joxter is usually depicted in a green dress/hat, he stood up for Muddler atleast twice in the book and we can presume these weren't the only times he does it. Joxter is rather confident in his abilities despite being lazy and Muddler would rather admire that)

Yellow=Achievement/accomplishment (nothing much here, just uhh... Gold is yellow-ish and gold usually means you've accomplished something)

Red=Stress/general negativity (This is mostly coming from the red paint incident)

I've also added some small references and details. I've avoided using the ruler tool on my lineart to give it less solid feel to the backround and everything, showing how it's not supposed to be a full representation of reality, the pictures being faceless also adds to that. I drew an interpretation of the Muddler and Fuzzy wedding photo found in the moomin theme park, the gold medal on Hodgkins' portrait says "you helped" and it's supposed to be the medal that Hodgkins said Muddler deserved for helping him figure out the propeller (accidentally) in the Exploits version and I like to think he has that thought always in the back of his mind as one of the few times he's felt genuinely useful since he got so happy from it. Oh! And the picture almost completely hidden by the curtains is a portrait of his father and that's Joxter at the bottom looking like he's peeking over the curtain when really he's not. The curtains are green because they protect him from the red outside world, the suit and yellow dead flowers being darkly colored are supposed to represent a sense of meaninglessness or general distain, the red liquid is supposed to be red paint, not blood aaaaaaand the window is a slight shade of blue with a screen overlay.

"Apologies for being weak-minded" is supposed to be a rather insincere but tired quote from Muddler, he doesn't really want to apologise for cracking under pressure and having a literal breakdown but he feels like he has to because I think he just feels like a nuisance alot of the time and being so negatively emotional just makes things worse, so he has to come up with an apology rather than tell the person he's talking to the reason why he broke down, and belittling his own feelings by calling himself weak-minded. He knows himself to be "too" sensitive.

Anyway, that was too long a ramble. Just know that I'm not trying to take myself too seriously here, it's a silly amount of thought put into this but eh, I enjoyed it, and I thought you might want to read about it and if you made this far; thank you.

[recurring-polynya]

For the AU drabbles, can you do Renji ending up in Spirit Society and meeting Tengu!Rukia and Tengu!Byakuya?

I described the bones of this AU in this art post (you should probably read it first).

Given that I did all that work up front, instead of writing something that makes sense, I am going to be very self-indulgent and write this out-of-context Feels Fiesta where Tengu!Rukia doesn’t want Regular!Renji to go home.

Read on ao3 (features the pictures from the first post) or ff.net

🐦     ✨     💔

Rukia staggered over to the library table, carrying far too many rolled-up maps. She attempted to tip the first one gently onto the table, but instead, half a dozen rolled out of her arms. “Watch out!” she yelped helplessly.

The Shinigami Abarai Renji had exceptional reflexes, though, and he deftly scooped his ink stone out of danger as a map rolled past the spot where it had sat just a moment before.

“Sorry,” Rukia apologized, her feathers wilting. She wanted so badly to be a help for once, and instead, she couldn’t seem to stop embarrassing herself.

Renji flashed her one of his brilliant smiles. She wondered if all shinigami smiled so freely. It seemed a strange quality for a god of death to possess, but very little about Renji comported with her conception of what death gods should be like. The Shinigami Kurosaki Ichigo smiled often as well. Rukia had assumed that might be due to his human half, but perhaps ushering souls to the afterlife was not such a grim occupation as one might expect.

“Don’t worry,” Renji reassured her, the corners of his warm brown eyes crinkling. “I am a champion ink-spiller, so I’m pretty good at avoiding it. Thanks for digging these out for me. Were you able to find any that show the old kitsune trade route you mentioned?”

“I’ll have to check,” Rukia sighed. “I’m afraid they weren’t very well organized. My brother’s servant, Wakame Ambassador--”

Renji made a face like he was trying very hard not to laugh.

“You must not make fun of Wakame Ambassador!” Rukia warned in a hushed voice. “He is just a magical construct, but he does have feelings!” She frowned at the maps. “It’s not his fault Brother didn’t put a whole lot of brains in him.”

“I would never,” Renji reassured her gently, “make fun of Wakame Ambassador.” He fiddled with his brush. “He just… reminds me of something from back home.”

Rukia knew she should get to work looking for the map he wanted, but she couldn’t help herself. She was so curious about his Soul Society, and he was so close-mouthed about it. “Do you miss it?”

“Hmm?”

“Soul Society,” she said, rolling the word around in her mouth. “Do you miss it?”

“Oh,” Renji replied. “A little. I haven’t really been gone that long, and I do want to help you folks out. I am starting to get these little pangs, though.” He chuckled. “Wouldn’t’ve expected to get one over Wakame Ambassador.”

“They must miss you,” Rukia pressed. “You’re a very important person, there, right?”

Renji let out a sharp guffaw. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Rukia’s brows furrowed. “But you said the captain you serve is a powerful clan head and a great warrior! Aren’t you the leader of his armies?”

Renji rubbed the back of his neck and laughed. “I guess you could say I have an important job, that’s true. It’s not quite the same as being an important person.”

It made no sense, in Rukia’s opinion. She had never seen swordwork to match his, and then he knew shinigami magic as well. He spoke so knowledgeably of strategy and tactics, he must be a scholar of warfare. Yet, he interacted so easily with the tengu troops. He was a natural leader in the way she wasn’t. Not that Brother would ever let her lead troops into battle in any case. “You know,” she started slowly. “Brother is very impressed with you.”

Renji raised one skeptical eyebrow.

“He is!” Rukia insisted. “And… if you are not appreciated in your homeland, I think that Brother would be most happy to have you stay! He would make you his war leader, I am sure of it!”

A very strange look came over Renji’s face. Rukia found herself talking faster and faster, as if her words could outpace his doubts.

“Demons notwithstanding, the Spirit Society is a wonderful place to live, and the tengu are the best of its tribes. I know you would feel self-conscious to not have a set of handsome wings or magnificent horns, but you have such interesting barring on your skin and your plumage is a lovely color. You would be very popular nonetheless!”

“Plumage?” Renji echoed blankly, his hand going to his hair.

“The costumes you and Kurosaki Ichigo fashioned were very clever. They would not fool another tengu, of course, but…” Rukia trailed off, unable to put into words the way her heart had sped up when she had seen him wearing the dark pinions and red-tipped horns of a tengu warrior. Of course, if he had been born a tengu, she was sure he would not have such common coloring. She could imagine him with a fine set of double wings, like her brother’s, blood red, tipped in black, and with great curling horns, like the woodcuts of the mighty warriors in her history books. “Or maybe there’s a spell that could grow you wings!” she realized suddenly. “I am very good at magic, you know, I could look through my spellbooks.”

Suddenly, his big, warm hand with its funny, blunt fingernails encased her own. “Rukia,” he cut her off. “Thank you. That’s a very generous offer, and believe me, I’m flattered.”

Rukia looked into his face. With its sharp nose and narrow, beady eyes, it was so clear that he belonged among her beautiful bird tribe, not a bunch of boring, ugly ghosts. It was unfair. “But?”

He shrugged. “But I gotta go home.”

There was a long silence. “Why?”

“Well, I got my friends, my squad, my captain. People who depend on me.”

“People who care for you?”

“Er, right.”

He hesitated. If he hadn’t hesitated, Rukia would have held her tongue. But it seemed, in that hesitation, there was a chance, and she felt like she had to take it. “There… there could be people here who would care for you, given time. Maybe there are already.” She took a deep breath. “I would like you to stay.”

A deeply pained look came over his face.

Rukia’s gut plummeted. It had been a mistake. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I should not have said anything.”

Renji’s face hardened. “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.” He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment and his hand tightened on hers so hard it hurt a little. “It’s not easy to put yourself out there, but you’ve always been braver than me.”

Rukia frowned. What could he possibly mean by that?

“It’s really hard for me to say this. You have no idea how hard. I like you, too, you know. I like you so much. But there’s… my heart’s already spoken for, Rukia. It has been for a long time. She’s… she’s a lot like you. Tough and clever and beautiful and the best friend you can imagine. And that’s part of why it could never be fair to you if I… if you and I...”

Of course. Of course he already had someone, how could she have been so foolish? But why hadn’t he mentioned this before? And why did his voice crack so when he spoke of her? “She does not return your love,” Rukia realized, the words escaping her mouth before she could catch them.

Rukia expected Renji’s face to look even more pained, but instead, his brow softened and his mouth curved into a fond smile. “I dunno, actually. It’s… it’s never been the right time or the right place. We’ve been through a lot together, though, her and me, and I know that she’d miss me if I didn’t come back.” He snorted ruefully. “I’d give every kan I got to hear Ichigo try to explain to her why I didn’t, though.”

Suddenly, a number of things he had said clicked together in her head. And it had not been wishful thinking, she realized. His smile truly was brighter for her, his gaze softer.

“It’s the other me, isn’t it?” she said softly.

Renji’s face stiffened, and then he sighed. “Of course it is. I can’t manage to keep stuff from you in any world, it seems.”

“I met her once, you know,” Rukia noted coolly, despite the turmoil in her chest. “The last time Kurosaki Ichigo was here.” She paused. “She did not seem a fool.”

Renji laughed, and patted her hand boisterously. The tension between them released like steam from a kettle. “Believe me, she’d have to be, to put up with me after all the grief I give her.”

Rukia regarded him under lidded eyes as she reached for one of the maps. “You already told me that she resembles me. Do not pretend she does not pay you back four-fold.

Renji regarded her right back. “I won’t.”

Rukia’s heart felt tender and achy, but warm, as well. The other Rukia must love him back, she was sure of it, even if she couldn’t say so. The alternative was too sad to bear. “I wonder,” she sighed, “why there is no version of you in this world.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Renji replied. “There probably is. He’s just not a tengu. You folks are way too elegant and clean-cut for the likes of me. It’s an honest miracle I ever met my Rukia in the first place.”

Rukia gaped. “Surely not! You are a noble warrior! Strong and handsome and polite!”

Renji gave out a bark of laughter. “That’s only because I’ve spent a long time trying to get this way. You got any nue in Spirit Society? Or ookami?” He thought for a moment. “I’m not sure I’m even classy enough to be a wolf spirit. Inugami?”

“We have all of those,” Rukia replied, bristling. But the dog demons are not to be trusted! Brother says they are barely better than the kitsune!”

“Mmm,” Renji replied with a shrug. “Right. Well. Like I said. Never the right time. Never the right place.” He turned back to the war record he’d been looking through.

Rukia’s face fell. She felt like she had failed him, somehow. Was it something about her brother? He could be a bit… insular to be sure, but the inugami were the very worst of the… dog... Rukia blinked and she traced a finger over the map in front of her. “The inugami are not the only dog tribe. Here, on the other side of the mountain. It’s hainu territory, which is why Brother doesn’t want to travel through it, but it has to be safer than that old kitsune trail. The hainu are an honorable people, if a bit unsophisticated, and they, too, would be affected if the demons were to swarm the valley. If they allied with us, I am sure we could fight off Grimmjow’s forces! You are a genius, Abarai Renji!”

“Me? What did I--?”

Rukia jumped to her feet. “Come. Brother won’t like it, but I am sure he will listen to you!”

“Why would you think that?!” Renji yelped as she hauled him from the library. Suddenly his eyebrows drew together. “Wait, this actually isn’t a bad idea. Do you think it would work? Have you ever actually met a hainu?”

“Well, no,” Rukia admitted. “But at least they have wings, how bad could they be?”

🐕     🤝    🐦

A/N: Okay, I know you asked for Byakuya, who… did not appear in the previous scene. So here’s Byakuya omake. A Byak-omake, if you will.

“What do you mean, the other me does not adorn himself with beautiful feathers?”

“Well, you’ve got a whole bird motif goin’ on, he’s not much of a bird guy. I mean, he likes birds. I guess. He just doesn’t dress like one.”

“How does he accessorize, then? Does he have a lush cloak of fine velvet?”

“Er… he’s got a haori?”

“Ah! Is it richly embroidered?”

“It’s got a six on the back.”

“A six.”

“Yeah, like the number six.”

“...”

“He said he’s thinking of adding some tassels? Gold tassels?”

“Gold tassels are good. How many?”

“He wasn’t specific at the time, but I’m guessing… two?”

“...Two?”

“Isn’t two enough? It’s two more than anyone else has.”

“...Two?!”

“...”

“Wakame Ambassador! Fetch my traveling cape and headdress! I must travel to the Soul Society to teach my other self how to dress properly!”

[trueromantic1]

Of Takeout and Old Movies

Summary: After attending the Widows’ and Children’s Fund benefit, Olivia and Elliot decide to end the evening relaxing with takeout and a movie. As the night goes on though, they find themselves on the precipice of something more, something that they both know has been a long time coming.

Author’s Note: This was going to be a oneshot, but then I really liked how it ended before the smut started. So I decided to stop there and split it up, figuring that way anyone who doesn’t want to read smut can just read this chapter, and anyone who wants the smut can continue to the next chapter once it’s posted.

Rating: Explicit

ff.net: here

AO3: here

“I want to thank everyone again for coming tonight to help us raise money for the Widows’ and Children’s Fund. As always, your generosity is greatly appreciated.” To raucous applause, the Commissioner walked off the stage, ending yet another fairly successful night of fundraising that necessitated sprinkling the audience with plenty of New York’s finest for the donors to meet. Their only job was to mingle and to make the donors feel comfortable enough to reach deep into their pockets.

Checking the time on her watch, Olivia was glad she’d decided to let Noah have a sleepover with Amanda and her girls. All she wanted when she got home was to change out of her fancy but uncomfortable dress and relax on the couch with some takeout. She knew it was for a good cause, but these dog and pony shows were always so draining. Taking a sip of what was left of her wine, she scanned the room, as she’d found herself doing off and on all night, lingering an extra moment when her eyes caught on a blue pair across the room. She’d known he’d also been asked to attend, so she hadn’t been surprised to see him the first time her gaze had wandered the room and caught him staring back at her, but now that the night had wound to a close, she wondered if he’d be interested in winding down with her like old times. Before she even finished making the conscious decision to go over to him, she found herself over halfway across the room toward him. She watched as his eyes widened briefly as she strode across the room, and she felt a surprising amount of satisfaction as he quickly extracted himself from the conversation going on around him to meet her part way.

“Captain,” he greeted, that stupid smirk curling his lips, “fancy meeting you here. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d been purposely avoiding me all night.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you know better Detective.” She let her lips curl slightly, a smirk of her own forming. “I’m sorry Elliot. Garland found out you were also requested to attend, so he lectured me about how tonight I needed to mingle with the donors, not my former partner. I was going to argue about it with him, because I hate attending these things and I knew you’d make it more entertaining, but then I realized if I just went along with it for one night it’d be easier.” Her eyes crinkled at the corner as she smiled more fully as he reached to take her now empty glass away to place it on the tray near them, his fingers lightly grazing hers as he did.

“I know Liv. I could tell how frustrated you were all night, but I figured you had a reason for staying away, especially after you told me in May that people were telling you to keep your distance, and you turned around and ensured a veritable army in blue showed up when we had to take Wheatley to the feds without anyone being able to trace anything back to you.” He shot her that shit-eating grin, the same as he did anytime he mentioned her own version of ‘fuck you’ that she’d given the brass.

Eyes warm, mirth dancing merrily in the seemingly endless depths, Olivia made sure her face showed nothing but innocence, tinged even with a bit of confusion. “I told you before El, I didn’t do anything except show up, same as everyone else. You know I’m not tech savvy to have managed to leak that to social without leaving a trace. But enough about that; I was heading over to see if you felt like coming back to mine and relaxing with some takeout and an old movie. I don’t know about you, but these things always leave me more stressed than before attending. Noah’s at a sleepover with Rollins’ girls, and I really don’t want to go home to an empty house.”

“Chinese and a classic movie? I’m in. Ready to go?” At her nod, they turned as one, his hand a gentle pressure at the small of her back, and walked out the door.

-~-~

As the credits began to roll, Elliot glanced down at the top of his former partner’s head where it rested against his shoulder. He allowed himself a soft smile as he thought about their night.

They’d called the Chinese in on their way to her place, knowing that it would arrive shortly after they did that way. She’d gone to change, but came back still in her gorgeous dress with a pile of clothes clutched in her hands, offering it to him with a slight flush on her cheeks. He’d realized it was embarrassment a moment later after he looked at the clothes and found a pair of sweatpants and an old shirt that he recognized as his. His confusion must have shown, because she’d gone on to explain that cleaning out his desk and locker had been left to her, and she’d never had the heart to get rid of any of his stuff. After they’d each gone to change, he’d realized that her embarrassment had likely been due more to the fact that she’d clearly been wearing them in the intervening years than to the fact that she’d kept all his belongings. Their food had arrived not long after they’d both changed, and they’d sat down to eat and watch their movie. After she’d finished eating, he’d been pleasantly surprised to find her leaning her head against his shoulder as they watched the movie, the weight getting slightly heavier as she eventually dozed off.

Coming back to the present, he gently brushed her hair from in front of her eyes, trailing his fingers down from behind her ear to her shoulder where he gently shook her. “Liv. Time to wake up. The movie’s done.” Her unintelligent mumble made him smile. “Olivia. Come on, it’s time for Captain’s to head to bed.

“Mmm, El. What’s wrong?” She blinked, bleary eyes slowly focusing on him.

“There we go.” His smile spread. “Nothing’s wrong. The movie just ended, and I figured you didn’t want to sleep out here all night.”

“Hmm…Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. But I have to say, it was a lot comfier this time.” The impish smile she shot him as she slowly sat up sent heat through his veins. “Thanks for coming over El. I had a good time.” They both stood, gathering their dishes and tidying the living room.

Gathering his clothes from earlier in the night, he headed toward the door and his shoes beside it. “I guess I’ll see you later. I had a good time tonight too Liv.” He bent down to give her a hug, something they’d both become more used to doing in the several months since they’d talked at Fin’s non-wedding. As he started to pull back, he turned his head slightly to place a gentle kiss on her cheek, something that had become a more recent, but not unwelcome change. He froze for a moment though as his lips met skin that was softer than expected, realizing she must have turned her head with the same idea, causing their lips to meet instead. As he slowly pulled back, he searched her face for any idea of her feelings, worried that their accidental lip lock would upset her.

As Elliot slowly pulled back, she could see him worriedly searching her face. She knew he was likely worried she would panic, but all she felt was surprise. ‘Well,’ she thought as she placed her fingers gently against her lips, feeling warmth spreading from that initial touch, ‘maybe not just surprise.’

“Liv, I’m sorry. I meant to just kiss your cheek. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

She placed the hand that had been against her lips on the back of his neck, the other against his cheek. “El, it’s okay. You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I liked it. And I think we both know we’ve been heading this way for awhile. But maybe we should do it again, make sure it wasn’t a fluke.” She leaned forward, rising onto her toes and using her hand on the back of his neck to pull him toward her. She saw the worry on his face melt into surprise just as her lips touched his, her eyes slipping closed as she turned her head slightly to the side for a better angle. She worried for a moment as he remained unresponsive, but then she felt his mouth open and his tongue running against the seam of her lips, and she relaxed as she granted entrance.

Elliot’s eyes slipped shut as he deepened the kiss, one arm slipping around her waist and the other gently cupping the back of her head under her hair. As he felt her tongue slide into his mouth, tangling with his own tongue, he let out a moan and pulled her closer. He lost track of time as they lazily kissed, tongues tangling, lips sliding, hands gripping and roaming slightly as the room grew warm. Knowing they needed to decide where this was going before they got carried away, he slowly pulled back, another groan escaping as her teeth caught his bottom lip and pulled it slightly as she lowered herself flat to the ground.

“That was…That was amazing Liv. Even better than I’d imagined. And in the last few months, I have to say, I’ve imagined a lot. But we don’t have to do anything more than this. Whatever you want.” He watched her search his face. He wasn’t sure what she found, but whatever it was, she seemed to come to a decision.

“You’re right, it was amazing. Better than I imagined too. I know you’d never push me into anything El. But you don’t have to worry about that. I think if we’re honest with ourselves, we’ve been heading here for a long time. And I’m ready for more.” The hand that had still been resting on the back of his neck slid slowly across his shoulder and down his arm, until her fingers slipped between his. With their fingers entwined, she turned and started toward the bedroom, her arm stretching a bit as she pulled him behind her. “Stay El. I want you to stay, and I’m ready for whatever happens tonight.”