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#and did it in like. a sort of sense of entitlement way
hopelessromantic5 · 2 months
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Merlin had been working for Arthur Pendragon for a year when something unusually strange happened.
This wasn’t “life-or-death-vengeful-magical-creature” strange. That happens every day.
No this oddity didn’t even involve Arthur.
The pompous prick had just left in storm of rage because Merlin was once again gone for days at a time and couldn’t give him a good enough answer as to where. Arthur knew Merlin was lying to him, and it was only a matter of time before the truth came to light, and Merlin’s life would be over.
He was still in Arthur’s chambers, in complete darkness. Body folded into a corner, with his arms wrapped around his knees that were being cradled by his chest.
He was sobbing.
Because life was so fucking unfair and he’s allowed to have a pity-party every once in a while. Merlin would say he’s entitled.
His sobs broke off into silence when a single candle lit itself, barely illuminating the room.
Merlin’s head popped up, wide eyed.
There was no one else. Just him.
And that had not been his magic.
Merlin was on his feet and ready for whatever was being hurled their way, this time.
They appeared, out of thin air.
Or she did.
A woman. With blonde hair cascading over over her thin shoulders. A deep green gown, that was beautiful but not embellished or bejeweled. And her eyes were like lakes, blue and too deep to see to the bottom.
Merlin’s breath was snatched from his throat as they stared at each other.
“Do not be afraid. I am not here to harm you.” She said, her voice was soft and melodic, the way Merlin imagined goddesses would speak.
“Who are you?” He whispered, before correcting. “What are you?”
“You can sense that I am not human?”
Merlin nodded, then narrowed his eyes, trying to put it together, but not quite having all the pieces.
“Every living thing gives off a vibration of sorts…a frequency… you give off nothing. As if you’re-“
“A ghost.” She smiled small but it held a secret joke that Merlin didn’t understand.
“You’re a ghost?” He questioned, further confused. “How are you here? It’s not anywhere near Samhain.”
Then the blonde woman’s eyes turned sad. And she turned to the window looking out at the lightless sky.
“There are some special cases.” She murmured. Then snapped her eyes back to him.
“But that is not why I’m here.”
Merlin’s eyebrows went up in expectation.
The woman’s expression turned to something that Merlin had only ever seen from his mother and Gaius. A sort of pity that’s shrouded in love.
She advanced on him and then settled her hands on his shoulders. Upon closer inspection, he could see the way she wasn’t completely opaque, but he felt her hands as if they were solid, flesh and bone.
“I know who you are, Emrys.”
Merlin practically hissed at the name and began to back away towards the door of the chambers.
“What are you planning to do about it? Tell the king?” Merlin was panicked now. If Uther knew then there would be no chance of saving himself. Or of saving Arthur.
“Calm yourself, dear. That is the last place I would be headed even if I did plan to tell someone.”
Merlin stopped, whispering, consciously aware of the guards that will patrol this corridor at some point soon.
“So why are you here?”
“Because, Merlin, I want to thank you. I want you to know that all that you’ve suffered, all that you’ve sacrificed, has not been in vain.”
What? How could she possibly know…
“I have been here some time, Merlin. Unseen but always watching.” She smiled again. “This was the deal I made. I gladly gave my life if they agreed to let me watch him grow.”
Time froze.
And suddenly everything clicked into place for Merlin.
He audibly gasped.
“You…” he started shaking his head as if it were a hallucination brought by bad wine or mysterious herbs. “You’re her.”
He stared back into those eyes.
Those eyes he’d come to know on a different human. Eyes he’d come to love.
“Yes. I am. And I have been here with him, watching him struggle and learn. Make mistakes.”
She clutched him again by the shoulders.
“Merlin, I want to thank you for taking care of my son.”
He was shaking his head and stuttering incoherently, almost silently, trying to find words to express everything he feels every day.
“You-I-your son is…a great man. And he’s going to be a good King. A kind, just, King.”
She smirked again at him, probably knowing more than he did about everything.
And then her smile turned soft as she replied.
“The Once and Future King.”
Merlin nodded, feeling a little giddy himself at the idea. Arthur sitting atop the throne of Albion and ruling his people in an age of peace, until he turns old and grey. Trusting the next generation to take the reins.
Merlin chuckled a little.
“The gods couldn’t have picked anyone better suited.”
“He will need you, Merlin. Especially in what’s to come. But this is nothing you are not already aware of.” She had a very soft smile, genuine, not one harsh line on her whole face. “I’ve also appeared to you now to say, I think you should be truthful with him.” Merlin’s instincts almost caused him to recoil from her again, but he stilled his body, as she continued. “I see him when you are not here, when he is alone, when he’s with his father. The way that he communicates his feelings are hurtful and he has no clue how to work through them. I am sorry that Uther raised him that way.” Merlin watched transparent tears slide down her pale face. “But you help him. He’s getting better with himself, with others. You are the light in his life, he wants to do better because of you, the way you see him.”
Merlin was crying too. He couldn’t help it.
He didn’t think anyone ever knew what really went on inside this blasted castle, but someone was here, watching him fail and try and try again and succeed sometimes, and keep Arthur and Camelot safe and happy. Someone has been rooting for him the entire time, he was never really alone.
“Hold on. Would he be able to see you?” Merlin whispered cautiously. “Do you want him to?”
“I’m afraid that it’s a little more complicated for people without magic. I was able to appear before you now, because your guard was down while you were crying. Your mental and emotional barriers were lowered and I was allowed to reveal myself. For Arthur and I to talk, I would need a lot of magic and a lot of trust.” She reminded him so much of Arthur in the way she hid her melancholy behind a dazzling smile.
“But that is not the reason I think you should tell him. He might be frustrated at first, but he will be far less angry than he was moments ago. He trusts you and he knows there is something you are not telling him. I think you would both benefit from a little honesty, him just as much as you.” She smirked at the last comment.
Merlin cannot believe that he just got talked into revealing his magic by the Queen of Camelot.
This day is so strange.
Wait-
“What does that mean? What is it that Arthur is keeping from me?” He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and thought. He knew almost everything about the man. He could probably paint him blindfolded at this point, with every buckle and button in perfect place. He knew his sense of humor, his daily schedule by heart, he knew everything Arthur thought about everyone, and Arthur knew the same of him…almost.
Except for that one-okay, maybe two things.
Maybe Arthur had an exception also.
“You will have to be vulnerable in order to find the answer to your question.” It almost sounds like a riddle of Kilgarah’s but the Queen’s made a lot more sense to him than the Great Dragon’s usually did.
“When he returns, avoid cornering him in the room. He does not do well with-“ the lady cut herself off for the first time, somehow even ghosts were conflicted in their thoughts. Her face hardened, “Uther used tactics like this to intimidate Arthur when he was a boy being scolded. For absolutely nothing at all. For doing things that boys should be doing!” Her voice reached its loudest volume and she stumbled farther away from him, wide-eyed.
“I am so sorry, Merlin. I have not spoken to anyone in so long. I didn’t not mean to get angry.” Tears welled in her blue, blue eyes.
Merlin could not stand it.
“There is nothing to apologize for. You have every right to be angry. I am angry. Sometimes with destiny, or dragons, or evil unknown forces lurking in the dark. But always at Uther. For treating Arthur that way, like an animal raised for slaughter. And for never realizing how much it scarred him. And for never changing, or apologizing. Never once. He is not even human anymore.”
They stood there, locked into each other, sharing in their grief, in their pain for this boy that they love more than life.
And then they heard footsteps, both parties equally startled for different reasons.
“Good luck, Merlin.” Igraine was smiling softly again, as if it had never left, maybe that is what Arthur does for her. What he does for them both. Bring the color and joy back into the world like a breath of clean air. “You will do well.” She nodded, before starting to disappear, back into the invisible ether of the castle.
Then the door swung open to reveal Arthur, looking almost apologetic, but also scanning the room before landing his eyes back on Merlin.
“Who are you talking to?”
“No one. Myself.” Another lie. Shit.
This isn’t going well and he’s three words into it.
The prince opened his mouth as if to retort but Merlin stopped him confidently proclaiming,
“Arthur, I need to tell you something.” It was as though Merlin could feel a weight physically lifting off his shoulders as soon as the words left his mouth. “Quite a few things actually. I have not been honest with you. But I don’t want to keep secrets anymore.”
Arthur stood momentarily speechless, surprised at Merlin’s change of heart.
TBC…
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storiesforallfandoms · 10 months
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i don’t ever wanna see you with him ~ roman godfrey;hemlock grove
word count: 2551
request?: no
description: after he gets jealous of her best male friend, she decides to put him in his place
pairing: roman godfrey x female!reader
warnings: swearing
masterlist (one, two, three)
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Roman Godfrey was spoiled and entitled. Everyone in Hemlock Grove knew that. He was the heir to the massive empire in their small town, so it wasn’t a surprise that he had a sense of entitlement. That entitlement tended to extend to his romantic relationships, too. Roman was often very possessive and jealous over his girlfriends. Most of them liked that, most of them viewed it as hot and endearing.
(Y/N) was not one of those girls.
She and Roman had met through (Y/N)’s best friend, Peter. He was enamored with her the minute he laid his eyes on her, and, secretly, (Y/N) had felt the same way. Not that she would ever tell him that. She had been warned about Roman before she met him. She wasn’t about to give into him so easily; she made him work for it - for her. And he really did put in the work until (Y/N) trusted his commitment to her and agreed to date him.
There was one issue about Roman, though, and that was his jealousy towards (Y/N) and Peter’s friendship. He thought he kept it lowkey, but both Peter and (Y/N) knew. They both knew Roman better than he thought they did. They could see when his eyes darkened whenever he looked at them. They could see his jaw tighten whenever (Y/N) laughed at something Peter said. They could see the way Roman always needed to be touching (Y/N) whenever the three of them were hanging out.
It wasn’t that Roman didn’t like Peter. When it was just the two of them, they were the best of friends. It was Peter with (Y/N) that Roman didn’t like. And that was what pissed (Y/N) off. Peter had been her friend long before he was Roman’s, and long before Roman and (Y/N) started dating. And that’s all they were - friends. There had never been any sort of romantic feelings between them, and there never would be.
That’s why (Y/N) was walking up to Peter’s trailer on her own on a sunny afternoon. He was laying in a hammock, his eyes closed as he soaked up the sun. Upon hearing her footsteps, he opened one eye and peered over at her.
“Where’s your shadow?” he asked.
(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “He’s not that attached to me.”
“He may as well be a wart on your ass, (Y/N). Especially when it comes to me.”
“He’s certainly a pain in my ass,” (Y/N) muttered. “Move over, I want some hammock.”
Peter chuckled and shuffled over slightly. (Y/N) got into the hammock, laying with her feet towards Peter’s head and her head towards his feet. The hammock swayed with the motions before it settled again.
“He doesn’t know I’m here,” (Y/N) said as her body relaxed into the swaying fabric.
“What?” Peter asked.
“Roman. I didn’t tell him I was coming.”
“Is that healthy? Like, for your relationship.”
“I didn’t lie to him or anything. He’s busy with some family shit, so I haven’t even heard from him yet today. If he were to ask, I’d tell him I’m here.”
“And then he’d show up and kick my ass.”
(Y/N) sighed and rested her head back against the hammock. “Do you think he’ll ever stop being so...”
“So Roman?” Peter finished. (Y/N) nodded. “It’s hard to tell. His entire life he’s been surrounded by enablers, or he’s been under the control of his insane mother. I think we’re the first people to treat him like an actual person and not like he owns the world. So either we could help him, or he’ll annoy us both to a point where we can’t deal with him anymore.”
The latter option was what worried (Y/N) the most. She loved Roman, other than his jealousy he was an amazing boyfriend who loved and cared for her so deeply. She didn’t want to lose him, but she knew Peter had a point about if Roman couldn’t control that jealousy. She couldn’t live the rest of her life wondering how Roman was going to react to every guy she interacted with, whether it was friends, co-workers, or just random guys she ran into on the street. And she definitely was not going to be made to choose between Roman and Peter when she had known and been friends with Peter the longest.
She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. Peter knew what she was thinking. It wasn’t the first time they had this conversation.
They fell into a comfortable silence. There really didn’t need to be any conversation. This was the first time in quite some time that the two were able to spend time together and actually enjoy it. So that’s what they were doing: enjoying their time.
The enjoyment didn’t last too long, though, as they heard a car pulling up in front of Peter’s place. Peter’s mom’s car was already in the driveway, so there was only one person it could be. That suspicion was confirmed by a car door slamming and Peter rolling his eyes when he saw whoever it was approaching. (Y/N) huffed out a sigh as she prepared herself for the argument that was undoubtably coming.
“You two look comfy,” Roman commented.
“We are,” Peter responded. “Wanna join? you can lay across us.”
Roman glared at him before turning to (Y/N). “I was trying to call you. Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”
She looked down at her purse where her phone was, which she had left on the ground when she climbed into the hammock. She gestured to it. “It’s too far away for me to reach. And my phone is on vibrate, as it always is, and you know that.”
His jaw clenched. (Y/N) felt her frustration reaching its peak.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here?” Roman asked.
“Well, for one, you haven’t responded to my texts at all today, so it’s not like I’ve even been talking to you today,” (Y/N) retorted. “And two, you don’t own me, Roman. I’m not required to tell you every single thing I’m doing or where I’m going.”
“You do if you’re hanging out with other guys by yourself.”
(Y/N) swung her legs over the side of the hammock and stood up so quickly that Peter nearly flipped out of it. She approached Roman with such ferocity that Roman took a step back before she reached him.
“Let me tell you one thing, Roman Godfrey: I’m done with this jealousy bullshit. I am not your property, I am your girlfriend. You do not control where I go or who I’m friends with. Especially when the person in question is my best friend who I’ve known way before I met you. This dark, entitled rich boy bullshit might work on other girls in this town, but it’s not working on me. If you want someone to put up with that, then you may as well find someone else to be your girlfriend, cause I can’t do this anymore.”
She picked up her purse and put it over her shoulder.
“Where are you going?” Roman asked as she started walking away.
“Anywhere that’s away from you!” she hissed. Over her shoulder she added, “I’ll talk to you later, Peter.”
~~~~~~
(Y/N) was home by herself that night. Her parents had gone out to some kind of function, and had asked if she wanted to tag along, but she told them to go on without her. She felt like she needed some time alone to come to terms with what had happened that day.
Peter had texted her asking if she was okay, but she hadn’t responded. She wasn’t upset with him by any means, as he didn’t even do anything wrong, but she just felt like she didn’t want to talk just yet. When she did respond, it was going to be to tell him she wanted to forget everything that had happened that day and to move on as if everything was normal, minus the fact that she and Roman were no longer together.
Roman hadn’t texted or called at all. She wasn’t sure if it hurt more that he hadn’t, or if it had hurt less.
She was sat in the living room, half paying attention to some movie that was playing on TV, when a knock came at the door. The sudden sound startled (Y/N). She wasn’t expecting anyone, and she knew her parents weren’t either as they weren’t even home. She figured it might be a door to door salesman, or someone trying to talk to her about the Lord, although it seemed too late at night for any of that. Either way, she stood from the couch and went to answer the door.
Standing there, leaning against her doorway, was Roman Godfrey.
“What are you doing here?” she asked him.
“Can I come in?” he asked in return.
“Not until you answer my question.”
“I came to talk to you.”
“You have a phone, which I know you know how to use because you were blowing mine up before you came to attack me and Peter.”
“I wanted to come talk to you in person. You’d be more likely to answer the door if you didn’t know I was coming than to answer your phone if you knew it was me calling.”
Okay, he has a point.
(Y/N) reluctantly stepped aside and gestured for Roman to come in. She closed the door behind him and led him towards the living room. She had been sat with all the lights off before Roman knocked and hadn’t realized just how dark the room had become. She switched on a small table lamp and muted the movie before sitting back in her spot on the couch.
“Your parents aren’t home?” Roman asked.
“No, they’re gone to some gala for dad’s work,” she responded. “Don’t get any funny ideas. We’re not together anymore, remember?”
Roman winced, as if her words had physically harmed him. “Yeah, I know. That’s what I came to talk about.”
He sat down next to her on the couch, but left a respectable distance between them. She appreciated that it seemed like he wasn’t trying to be too pushy towards her or anything, at least not yet.
“Go on then,” she said, waving her hand at him. “Start talking. What was so important that you had to come down from your castle to speak to the commoner?”
Roman scowled at her. “You know you’re not a commoner.”
“Compared to you and your wealth I am. But that’s not the conversation we’re having right now. Whatever it is you wanted to say, say it, and then I’ll decide whether or not I want you to leave immediately.”
Roman sighed and ran his hands through his hair. (Y/N) quickly glanced at the dark brown strands that were between his fingers. His hair was always incredibly soft. (Y/N) always loved to run her hands through his hair and seized every opportunity to do so. She had to look away just as quickly and shove down those painful memories. She couldn’t let herself break and go back to him just because of something so trivial.
“I’m sorry.”
The words shocked (Y/N) so much that she almost physically jumped when he said them. They were words she had very rarely ever heard said with such sincerity coming from Roman’s mouth. She had heard it in sarcastic mutters under his breath whenever his mother chastised him for something stupid, or said to defuse a situation that was getting a little too heated, but this wasn’t in either of those ways. This time, he actually meant it.
“Can you say that again?” (Y/N) asked.
Roman chuckled and rolled his eyes. “I said I’m sorry.”
“One more time.”
“(Y/N), I do have more to say.”
“Yeah, but this is what I want to hear.”
Roman shook his head at her, a smile threatening to break out across his face. “Look, what you said earlier, at Peter’s, you were right. You are my girlfriend, not my property. I shouldn’t have been so possessive and attempting to control your friendship with Peter. I just...every time you two are together, I’m reminded about the fact that you and Peter are close, and that you’ve been close for a very long time. I know that Peter isn’t as much of a prick as I am, some would say he’s an actual nice guy I guess. I know there’s nothing between the two of you, but there’s always been this fear in the back of my mind that maybe...maybe that could change. That you would want Peter more than you want me.”
There was hurt in his big green eyes. His confession surprised her because Roman always seemed so confident in himself. It was one of the first things she had ever heard about him, about how cocky he was.
“Why did you never tell me before?” she asked.
Roman shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to seem like a crazy, possessive boyfriend. I didn’t realize I had already been acting like that. I actually thought I was hiding it well.”
“Yeah, because showing up to Peter’s place because I didn’t answer my phone is totally not a crazy, jealous boyfriend move.”
He chuckled. “Okay, touché. That was not one of my better moments.”
“None of how you were acting was one of your better moments,” (Y/N) said. “I would’ve much preferred you to have told me how you were feeling instead of bottling them up and allowing yourself to treat your best friend like garbage whenever we were hanging out.”
Roman cringed. “I did treat Peter pretty terribly, didn’t I? God, he probably hates me.”
“You’re definitely not his favorite person right now, but I’m sure you can get back in his good graces by acting like an actual person and not like a jealous piece of shit.”
“What about your good graces?”
(Y/N) thought to herself for a moment. He had come to apologize in person. He knew the way he had acted was wrong, he actually apologized for it, and it seemed like he was willing to make a change. That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? For him to work on the jealousy and actually change it.
“I think you can get back there,” she said. “You’ll just have to work for it again.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes.”
(Y/N) smiled. She moved closer towards him and unmuted the movie. “You can start by cuddling me and finishing this bullshit movie with me.”
He smiled back at her and put his arm around her shoulder. “I can do that. But why are we finishing the movie if it’s bullshit?”
“Because I’m invested in the bullshit.”
Roman chuckled and pulled (Y/N) towards him. She rested her head against his shoulder and he put his head on hers. He tested the waters by placing a kiss on the top of her head. (Y/N) didn’t argue. Instead, she turned her head to kiss his cheek before settling against him again.
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apostatehamster · 5 months
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Oh no! Another person's 2 cents on the OFMD finale situation!
Yes, because unfortunately my mind still hasn't settled and is in a state of disbelief over what happened, and I am trying to unravel all of this to make sense of it. Written from the perspective of a sad Izzy fan, so if you do not care to read about that or are simply tired of reading these mind pieces... well don't. And do not bother interacting.
I want to preface this by saying, I do believe Writers should be writing the story they think is right. It is impossible to please everyone so I prefer Author's sticking to their vision rather than bending to the loudest (in most cases, read: displeased) voices of the audience. However, I also think people are entitled to voice their displeasure over writing decisions in a constructive way. I don't condone hate towards authors, actors or anyone involved in the making of the show and if you feel angry enough to send hate or threats, take a walk and calm down instead of being a jerk. That being said, I watched many shows with decisions I did not agree on and few made me as angry & sad as this one, hence me trying to dismantle why.
False marketing, expectations and broken promises
Frankly I hadn't seen much advertising about the show before, most of it was fandom activity that praised the show as feelgood and comfort, with good queer representation. I got into it pretty late, so I can't tell what the show itself presented itself as, but to me it seemed like they fully embraced that image and encouraged the show to be perceived as such. It's a rom-com after all, many laughters and sappy feelings. A safe space-ship for outcasts, so to speak. We expected drama but also making-up and possibly more shenanigans. What we did not expect, was a rather prominently featured character dying as one got used to happening from other shows.
OFMD promised to be different, or at least that was my and many others' impression, and then it turned that around in the last 10 minutes of the finale. But more about that and tonal shifts later.
What baffled me most were the interviews hailing in at the start of season two. I've read articles about how season 2 was leaning into the Ed/Izzy/Stede triangle with David Jenkins saying these three "are on an arc together that’s pretty inseparable". I mean we had Izzy being called a jilted lover before, and in addition to Ed & Stede's love declaration, we also had Izzy declare he had love for Ed, and Ed as well saying He loved him, best he could. There was a lot of love, but it was complicated, and the article gave hope that this season would sort this out.
But after the finale, we got interviews that declared Izzy was a father/mentor figure to Ed, which is such a weird claim that is absolutely unfounded in the way the characters interacted with each other, as well as the fact that Izzy's death apparently was something planned from the beginning as an ending to his arc. And well, I find that death separates characters quite definitely.
I am not saying that Steddyhands was promised to us, gods no, but we were definitely given a chance at it happening, when in fact, the ending had already been written as the complete opposite.
Reception and cognitive dissonance
Every person is different and thus has different feelings and opinions. I've seen Izzy fans hating the finale obviously, I've seen Izzy fans who said they liked it. I've also seen people who weren't explicitly Izzy fans say, they did not like the finale, so really, opinions can go any way.
However what baffled me is Jenkins feeling he delivered a truly happy end. Personally, I've never watched a character die and thought "This makes me happy." I especially would never describe a character struggling through hardship, just to ultimately die as happy or beautiful. I can only imagine that the focus was on Ed and Stede, when a happy ending was mentioned, but Jenkins kept pointing out in the interviews, how Izzy was his favorite, which gave hope for a happy ending for Izzy as well. As much as I enjoy seeing my favorites go through hardships, I also prefer to keep them around by not dying. I especially do not build my favorite up to be a well fleshed out character with growth, just to reduce them back to a plot device for the main character.
I know this is all based upon the interviews, and less on the show, but when I read "And what's the most interesting thing we can do with Con[...]?" my answer definitely wouldn't have been "kill his character off". Con O'Neill does a great job at playing emotional scenes, but we already had him act his heart out in the first three episodes. A last hurrah wasn't needed.
I am also trying to put myself in David Jenkins' shoes here, because I think he truly expected the last episode to be a happy ending, and a gift, just to be proven differently. I just wonder what went wrong, how one can read the room so completely wrong.
It wasn't malicious, but the fact that it was apparently meant to be a genuine attempt at offering a happy end makes it even worse.
Tonal shifts and established in-Show laws
It's an understatement to say that the tone of season 2 was decidedly more dramatic. To the point where I questioned myself if this was still allowed to be called a comedy show. I would have described season 1 as mostly slice-of-life, little adventures between the crew and the captains. People got hanged, fingers severed, people got stabbed, but you never felt the threat of actual death hanging over anyone's head, because everything was kept humorous. (Speaking of the non-baddies here. Calico Jack got a cannon ball to the head but with plausible deniability of his death & (apparently) an interview saying he could be brought back, if needed)
Enter season 2, which starts off with murder attempts, major wounds and a suicide attempt. Nothing was played off as a joke, and for that I am grateful because that would have been in poor taste, but the tone was noticeably different and darker. But it still wasn't 'realistic' by any standard. With no real doctor on board, Izzy should have died from his wounds and comatose Edward would have wasted away in the hidden cabin. Everyone came out (fucked up but) relatively fine.
The show goes back to the humorous tone with Anne & Mary who enjoy a good backstabbing and poisoning. We had our crew surrounded by death and a curse in the next episode, but there was any fear of them coming to harm, obviously. The crew gets boarded and tortured by Ned and his crew after that, but they are able to take it out and come away unscathed (some wounds aside). Oh no! Stede challenges Zheng Yi to a duel! Which we know means no one is allowed to interfere, until one of the duelants dies. But it's fine, Zheng Yi is just playing with her food. But watch out, a Cannonball flies towards Zheng Yi's head! Ah but she is fine, she escaped. The Swede pulled a Rasputin and got immune to poison without him even noticing! Look, even Auntie survived the explosion, badly wounded but she lives. Oh no! Izzy gets shot! But it's his left side, we established no vital organs are there. Roach and Stede are already on their way to get bandage- Wait they are back with no bandages, and Izzy he-
Oh, wait. He...died?
When watching season 2 I legitimately considered Izzy dying as an end result, because I am used to my favorite characters dying, frankly. But then I dismissed that thought because OFMD has proven again and again, that people do not die. Heck, Lucius was considered dead in the season 1 finale and he came back, albeit traumatized. But he lived to tell the tale.
Season 2 finale made it a point to leave no room for doubt that Izzy did indeed die. They dug him a grave, and they panned to his grave at the end to remind you, he is definitely dead. So, why did Izzy have to die in a world where our favorites can survive about anything? "Pirates die, that's just pirate life", okay but why was he specifically singled out to be the only pirate dying? In comparison to everyone else, it feels unjust, and it feels cruel towards the fans who felt safe in the knowledge that this was the one show where none of their favorites would die. And it feels like such a betrayal of the fans’ trust, who had hoped this show would do better.
I've seen a take along the lines of "Nowadays people expect the stories to be written explicitly for them, and then they get upset when it doesn't happen" and that take pissed me off enough to write this down. This isn't a case of entitled fans asking to change the story to be exactly what they want to be, there is fanfiction for that. No, this is fans upset that their favorite character got singled out by the narrative to be the one exception to the no dying rule. And I use the narrative loosely, because there was no ramification to the death that couldn't also have been established by the character staying alive and giving advice, so the death didn't even feel purposeful. And for a show that always stresses the "Talk it through as a crew" point, they did not care much for choosing talking it through as a solution.
I also heartily disagree that Izzy's arc was over and had no more stories to tell. I mean the guy followed Edward around for decades, I would have loved to hear more about their past.
I would have especially loved to hear more about their future, as two people who learned to let go of Blackbeard and became their own people again. Where exactly did the idea of that even come from, I don't know.
Pacing and Confusing decisions in the Final episode and the build-up into nothing
(Rambling alert!) 
Personally I didn't feel any pacing issues until episode 6. While I generally liked the episode, it felt crammed with both set-up of the baddie, fun-times, then appearance of baddie (and disappearance) and return to fun-times. The episode ended and I was literally perplexed that it was over, like we basically ran through that episode. But episode 8 took the cake.
Now I am well aware they had to cut corners, and the strike didn't make it easier either, and I wish we could have seen the result without these factors. But we got what we got now, and I have to judge based upon that, but I really would know how the final cut decision came to be.
I did like the beginning with Ed chilling as a fisherman, but in hindsight I wished they had cut that part a bit shorter to give more room for the final parts. We get a lot of Ricky dicking around the pirate republic, showing Jackie reluctantly bringing them drinks. Later on she finally decides to poison him. Why she didn't do so earlier, I have no idea, unless the show is trying to tell me The Swede had to build up enough poison tolerance within one episode to withstand the poison attempt, which would be ridiculous. Why the Swede was held as an emotional hostage, I don't know either. I don't want him dead but Jackie has many other husbands, the Swede being singled out was more to hurt the viewers than for Jackie imho.
We have Zheng Yi suffering through Stede's presence. Our queen is suffering through the loss of her whole crew and her aunt, while Stede unsympathetically offers that being a failure gets easier. I expected more compassion from a guy who treasures his own crew and also enjoyed the hospitality of Zheng Yi's ship, but okay. Being a dick for the sake of comedy, I suppose. "Thing's have a way of working out. At least for me" And Zheng Yi proves Stede right by killing the soldiers, and Stede claims that went just as planned. I am not sure what happened to the Stede who successfully avoided being backstabbed in episode 5 and defended his crew in episode 6 and actually seemed competent, just to go back to an ignorant fool, but hm.
Fisherman Ed returns, thinks Stede in danger, and recovers his leathers that somehow are still in the same place, after mindlessly killing everyone in his way. Whatever happened to not wanting to be a monster and not killing and running away from that, it doesn't matter anymore. The flashback of pop-pop tells him he needs to go back to what he is good at, and I guess... this is it??? The Kraken rises from the sea again. Will there be consequences for Ed's emotional state after that? Well, no. Not really. Or not in this season anyway.
Okay Ricky invites Izzy to a drink, he's quite obviously a Izzy fanboy. For what reason he took him out of prison, I don't know. He later says "Sad, I wanted to let you live", implying he had plans for Izzy. What those plans were, we will never know, Ricky never tells us. Izzy talks about what piracy means to him. "It's not about getting what you want" and I don't know if he means pirates generally robbing ships to get treasure, or of himself being perceived as a mastermind or being a captain, because he never inclined he wanted either. So, what a weird thing for him to say. "It's about belonging to something when the world has told you, you're nothing" is a beautiful line that makes me wish we had gotten at least some backstory to Izzy. Then we're shown a picture of the crew from season 1.... with Izzy in the background, quite obviously not belonging (yet). What an odd choice to cut into. You could have used something from season 2 that showed him actually belonging
Ed finds one of Stede's love letters, it's cute, but I am not sure why we needed that to somehow reinforce that Ed loves him. We already saw him worry for Stede and literally revert to his Blackbeard persona to set out and save him. He also didn't leave because he didn't love Stede or doubted Stede's love for Ed, but because he needed to find himself first to make it work. It's not a long scene but it took a bit of the momentum of the Kraken rising from the water from me.
Ed and Stede see each other again and we have a callback to the episode one opener. Which was also the moment where I slowly realized, death was in the cards for Izzy because that dream sequence meant his death. But no, this is OFMD, it'll be fine...
We're back in the cell, and our mates are trying to escape. Auntie is there! Very much alive, despite having been on an exploding ship. Who brought her there?? When was she brought there?? How long has she been there and why did no one bother to check the cloaked figure in the corner? NEVERMIND, Auntie is here and alive I suppose. Bleeding out and we've got no supplies to treat her, but she will walk it off just fine.
Captain trio congratulate themselves on beating a bunch of soldiers. Honestly impressive, outnumbered as they were. Mh, maybe they should get back to the crew tho...?
Auntie realizing she was harsh on Zheng Yi and admitting maybe she needs a different approach. I am seeing a parallel to Izzy later admitting his approach was wrong too. Except (and excuse the bitterness) Auntie gets to continue to "mentor" Zheng Yi.
We get a weird hard cut from "I don't do soft" to the talk between Izzy and Ricky. I really thought the talk had been talked, but some more insults get thrown at Ricky, and the deus ex machina happens as all prisoners are freed from prison, the captain trio arrives and all soldiers die of poisoning. Personally this was the moment where I had to slow blink in disbelief, because everything was happening so fast.
Stede talks about how they need a plan, and how a royal hostage could prove valuable. Another hard cut "SO, that's the plan". We do not hear the plan. We just gather from the following montage that it has to do with dressing up as English soldiers. We get a montage of everyone preparing for battle and dressing up, looking cool in slow motion. And, they did look hella cool, but there was so much buildup for them dressing up for the plan...without knowing what the plan even IS.
And then the plan apparently is.... just Izzy holding Ricky hostage? And the rest waits around and sees how it plays out? And they're just trusting Ricky to go along with their plan and say what they want him to say? Why was Izzy the one who had to hold Ricky hostage? The one person with a visible wooden leg? Not sure if peg-legs are an established pirate thing in this world, but the British seem to think so, because they look down at it. Why did no one check that Ricky had no weapons on him beforehand? And most importantly, where the fuck was Stede during this suicide plan? He is the one who planned it, yet he was nowhere around the group with Ricky, nor did he fight any Soldiers. He only reappears when everyone is running away. What the hell!! Where'd he fuck off to. Again, all this epic plan build up, for the barely existing plan to go up in shambles within 5 seconds, and then they all run. At this point they could have just left Ricky at the Inn and attempted to walk to the ship safely in disguise without ever drawing attention to the soldiers, and they would have had as much chance.
Ed asks Izzy if he is okay and I raise an eyebrow, A) because we as the viewers barely saw him get hit and B) Ed hasn't cared much about Izzy after Stede returns. But okay, we're stumbling back to the ship, surprisingly no one else gets shot.
Izzy is bleeding out on the ship, Stede and Roach run off to get bandages. "Bonnet is in charge, oh great I am fucked" is a true statement, considering Stede was in charge with the plan already and got Izzy to here. Later you hear footsteps approaching offscreen, which I guess were Stede and Roach. They just appear again, with no bandages and no comment. I don't want to get into detail how much I despise Izzy's parting words, and the message they send out, but Izzy throughout this season proved he wanted to live and got ready for living again, just to end up saying he wants to go here, and it's just so utterly wrong. This scene was presented as someone who was healed and now got to die amongst his loved ones, but he was not healed. He practically still believed he deserved what he got, and he died believing Ed did not need him and thus he was unnecessary. If he truly was healed, he would fight to live, if not for himself and his new found family, then for Ed who he still loves, but no. Okay maybe I did want to go into detail, but anyway, many have said it better than me already.
The crew who bonded with Izzy over the whole season stands mutely in the background, leaving the stage to Ed, who has barely cared about Izzy all season. Out of nothing I am supposed to believe Izzy means something to him, after Ed shot him down, discarded of him, happily mentioned to Frenchie that "But most importantly, no more Izzy" like Izzy had been the bane of his existence, the guy he didn't even have the balls to approach first to apologize but instead mocked Izzy when Izzy himself finally broke their silence, I am supposed to believe that Edward suddenly realizes Izzy's worth and that he deserves to be the one grieving, not leaving any space to the crew? I don't think so.
All season I was waiting for them to make up again, patiently, full of hope, but the remaining episodes got less and less. And I held out hope for them to bond over talks and teamwork, remembering how well they worked together before it turned sour, acknowledging that they could do better if they tried, but instead we got this. This is supposed to help Edward move on as Not Blackbeard, but Izzy had already encouraged Ed to not be Blackbeard, yet Ed came back deciding on his own to don his leather outfit again. This is such a back and forth, it's frustrating. They could have accomplished growth without a death, but I've already talked about that.
Also Izzy telling Ed has family now, because the crew loves him. Ed bonded exactly with one person outside of Stede, and that was Fang, who was once Blackbeard's crew anyway. Other than that Ed only hung back and did not give a shit about what the crew was doing, but sure they love him after the non-pology. Where were the scenes to back this claim up, it was utter nonsense.
Okay, we get a burial. No one says a thing, no one's got to say a thing about their unicorn. Everyone leaves, and "That's that then". Stede talks about Izzy, like he hasn't personally bonded with Izzy over the last episodes and like he was simply a guy Ed dragged along (the way season 1 Stede would have felt). Also, no acknowledgement that Stede's plan was what got Izzy killed whatsoever, no remorse.
Aye no time to be sad, we got a wedding now! It lasts less than a minute screen time, and I am still recovering from the emotional impact of a death scene + burial, maybe give me a minute so I can feel happy for LuPete? No? okay.
Stede and Ed decide to build an Inn, nothing either of them has experience in. Also the "family" Izzy promised Ed is sailing away, so that was for nothing as well. What happened to Stede wanting to be a pirate? What happened to Ed returning to being a pirate, because it's what he's good at? What exactly made them change opinions to leave their crew behind and start this? *lame hand gesture at Izzy's grave* This?? I am usually good at looking for clues and details and figuring stuff out in between the lines, but I am left clueless as to what inspired this.
I am 100% sure there were missing scenes that could have helped soften the blow of the death at least, but like this the episode feels jarringly badly patched together. There is no visible impact to the death that would explain the necessity to the narrative (and yes, we are in a story, not real life. Plot points happen because they bring the narrative along, and it didn't here) With everything established beforehand, it felt like the death got shoehorned in, simply because someone said "I want this character to be dead at the end of the season", and then a story was somehow built around this.
And of course people are upset about this, when I watched I thought it was a joke and I was waiting for the little wink telling me it's not what it seems. The theme I gathered from this season was "belonging", and to see the guy accepting that he belonged and deserved to be loved to be left behind and denied a chance to continue with the crew where he BELONGS, because he's dead and gone, is a very stupid choice.
The season had many unexplained and unresolved things that I chose to overlook because the show was still ongoing and I had hoped they would all work out in the end, but they didn't and this sours the whole experience.
Fandom
This has less to do with me unraveling the happenings of the show, but whatever.
I joined very late, a few weeks before season 2 aired. I was however vaguely aware that Izzy was controversial to the fandom and that fans got hate mail for liking the character who "broke the main couple apart". So going into the new season as someone who utterly loved Izzy in season 1, I was skeptical lol
But it was a nice experience. Season 2 showed parts of Izzy that I had already seen but in a way that made it clear to everyone that this guy has Emotional Layers TM and is capable of more than just being the guy throwing a hissy fit. Everyone could sympathize with him, people enjoyed seeing him, and I legit loved going through the tags of the gifsets and reading all the reactions.
Generally I loved seeing the reactions after every new episode, seeing how fandom came together to talk over what happened, and over what they enjoyed. I had expected a very split fandom but it seemed season 2 was somewhat gluing it together. Izzy was finally an "accepted" character and thus it was "okay" now to love him, now that he wasn't trying to break Ed/Stede apart either. The show was feeding fans too, I felt like I feasted every episode up until the finale happened.
And /then/ the finale happened and the illusion went away.
Up to then I thought this was a season for the Izzy fans, with the opener episode showing how ridiculous the take of "Izzy has to die for Ed/Stede to be happy" was in a mocking dream episode, I thought that was David Jenkins acknowledging the hate that has been sent in the direction of Izzy & his fans, and how it's Not That Easy. And then he proved Izzy was more than that.
And then he killed Izzy off, so Ed/Stede could be happy and we've come full circle again.
Of course Izzy fans were upset, because it felt like a final fuck you after a season full of promises that it would be okay, and of course people were voicing their displeasure and sadness over it. Some people were downright grieving the character, and I can tell you I Am People. I went through the 5 stages of grief, through bargaining and anger directly after the finale, sadness the whole day after, crying over it because it felt so unjust to me. And maybe these reactions seem extreme to you, but that does not mean that people aren't feeling awful about the finale, that it truly hurt them. And you do not get to mock people for feeling in pain. What do you gain from that? If you liked the finale, fine, everyone is different, but allow the people who were shaken by it to express their emotions. Processing emotions takes time, and as a part of this I wrote a goddamn essay to make peace. The least you could do is not be a dick.
Parting thoughts are that the final episode was both a product of unfortunate cuts in screen time, and a writer who didn't expect the effect it would have on the audience.
I am not hating on David Jenkins, I loved every other episode of the season and eagerly anticipated the next one, but I am so incredibly sad that one botched finale broke my trust into the show, soured my love for the previous episodes with the knowledge of what it all built up to, and left the fandom back in shambles.
So long, and be kind to each other.
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yandere-daydreams · 2 years
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I'm a sucker for prince charming-type yanderes, but specifically with the sense of ~entitlement~- like the sort of guy who showers you with gifts and affection until you're smothered and the second you put up the slightest, polite attempt at a boundary, the switch flips and he's got you tied up in his basement while ranting about how ungrateful you are.
tw - kidnapping, stalking, obsessive behavior, slight social isolation, and delusional thoughts.
i like the idea of this kind of a yandere in one of those 'they're super nice and get along with everyone but you' scenarios. like, the two of you have mutual friends, so you spend a lot of time around each other, but they just don't seem to like you. they're so extroverted and so charming, always smiling and laughing and offering little gifts and favors, but for whatever reason, all their pleasantness and all their charity just seem to fall a little short when it comes to you. you try to be friendly (or, if nothing else, polite), but their smile always looks so tense when they're talking to you, and their laugh always sounds so stilted, and even their frequent gifts feel a little less-than-cordial. you've told them time and time again that you really don't want anything, that it's alright if you're left out, but they seem to take a special kind of joy in bringing you... different things, things that aren't their usual flowers and chocolates. stuffed animals with glassy eyes, roses with passive-aggressive notes about how close they want to be to you, gift cards for lingerie companies so expensive and so niche, you can't help but feel a little signaled out. they always do it with that shit-eating grin on their face, too, like they're trying to make you feel like an outcast. you don't like being around them, and to be fair, they don't seem to like being around you, either.
so, you make sure you're not around them. you don't go out if you know they'll be coming, and you do everything you can to avoid being left alone with them, and you just flat-out refuse to accept their 'gifts', even when they play heartbroken for all of your other friends. you know you're being rude, but it's necessary, and more importantly, it's working. they've stopped trying to corner you at parties, and they don't bitch about you to your mutual friends, anymore, and things are getting better - or, at least, they were, up until the point where you wake up in an unfinished basement, hand-cuffed to a radiator and watching clearly as your frenemy-turned-captor paces and rants about how they didn't want to do this, how cruel you've been to them, how they wouldn't have had to do something so extreme if you would've just shut up and stop running away from them. it's all your fault. they tried to be nice, to give you all the attention you could ever want, but it just wasn't enough. nothing they did would ever be enough, for you.
at least this way, they can get what they want, too.
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genericpuff · 2 months
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Do you think Rachel knows about LO rekindled? Or that she could've secretly been reading your comics? 👀
I mean, I think people think I want her to know about it, I know that's a common criticism made of it that I made Rekindled to like, "get Rachel to notice me", but like... y'all there's a reason I only post it to Tumblr and mirror it on Dillyhub (when I remember to actually upload pages there oop-), I stay off Rachel's turf over on Webtoons and on other major webtoon platforms because I don't feel entitled to Rachel seeing Rekindled and frankly I just don't want that kind of attention lmao That's just bad energy I don't want to invite, I already feel like I'm pushing the limit of what's "okay" with some of the criticisms I have here and Rekindled as a whole. I get enough back-of-the-head punches from her fanbase as it is LMAO
If I wanted Rachel's attention, you'd see me in her IG comment section with the rest of the "haters" asking her why she's spending more time working on memes than on her comic or tagging her in my posts or, at minimum, using the #lore olympus tags which I'm sure you've noticed I also don't do ! and generally ask people not to do when sharing Rekindled :' ) (I've actually gotten her attention in the past that way, back when I still loved the comic and I did that LO tattoo that she retweeted which was neat for about 15 seconds lol)
Don't get me wrong, I still talk plenty of shit, but I try my best to keep it in my own house because I'm not entitled to Rachel's attention or time, she's clearly doing what she wants to do and I'm doing what I wanna do, we're each in our own house, managing our own lawns. Sure, I might be that weird neighbor who's side-eyeing her through the window blinds and talking shit about her very loudly from my kitchen, but it's completely on her - at her own risk - if she chooses to listen in, just like how it's completely on me to read LO at my own risk of taking psychic damage LMAO
If she is reading Rekindled then idk, I hope she enjoys it I guess? But I totally don't blame her if she doesn't like it, the fact that one of her assistants have blocked me despite us never interacting definitely gives me the sense that she does know about it to some degree. And there have been uh... signs...
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BUT those are just hoof beats so I'm not gonna go chasing zebra's, what's more likely is that she's literally just minding her own business drawing her comic and trying to get her finale sorted out. Don't mention Rekindled in her comment sections if you can help it, don't be obnoxious with sharing it in the LO-focused spaces, leave well enough alone so I can keep making this for the people who it's made for, that's all I ask :' ) <3
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lookbluesoup · 11 months
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Hydaelyn in Endwalker
At the risk of looking stupid online I'm going to field my perplexions about Hydaelyn that've been bothering me for months lol This post is... a little Hydaelyn critical. But I do offer that in good faith, I LOVE the character and I'm not trying to just trash her, I'm genuinely interested to hear other perspectives about it. (But please be nice, everyone is entitled to their own take)
Also this is not in response to anyone else's post. I haven't even seen any Hydaelyn posts circulating lately. I'm not vagueing anyone or trying to start drama. Just trying to sort out my own feelings about this character.
So my main takeaway from MSQ was that love is, ultimately, what saves you. That humans (including Ancients!) aren't perfect, and cannot love perfectly, but the shared love of you and others is still what saves you.
And, also, that grief is a part of life. Mistakes are a part of life. Conflict and loss happen, but they need not destroy you. Stand for doing right as best that you can, forgive yourself and keep trying, keep loving - both yourself and others.
There was an incredible amount of emphasis on not judging or hating one's enemies, about accepting the humanity in all of us and coming together, which I really loved.
There was also, of course, a huge rejection of self-sacrifice and martyrdom.
I saw all those themes in the Dark Knight quests a LOT (especially before the English translation changed so many scenes), and I assume Ishikawa was continuing that theme from Shadowbringers onward.
So again! I don't hate Hydaelyn!
But I feel like... at least in the English translation, she is still treated with excessive reverence, like a goddess, by the Scions - even ones it didn't really make sense to after her origin came out, like Y'sthola.
And at least on my first playthrough, while I like Venat a lot and love the drama of the Final Days pushing everyone into points of desperation, to their breaking points, and her decision to sunder the world definitely did ultimately help (help!) make it possible for us to defeat the Endsinger... I dunno.
To me she was still subject to the same arrogance as the rest of the Ancients. Whether her decision paid off or not, she still took into her hands the fate of the entire Star, she still made a decision that would result in millions of deaths.
And if we're going by Hydaelyn's own assertion, that each reincarnation is their own person, not just a missing piece of a whole... then to achieve her goal of a better world, she killed all the remaining Ancients except those three.
She chose to create a world where death and trauma would affect generation after generation - and she can say that it was for the greater good, for the world to survive. But that was essentially the Convocation’s justification too, in creating Zodiark and orchestrating the Rejoinings. Committing genocide to prove that genocide is wrong… is not noble.
The cutscene with her sundering the world, where the people insist they'll return to a world free of sorrow underneath a burning sky, could also NOT be how it actually happened. It had to be representational of her feelings and conclusion. Becoming Hydaelyn took coordination with her followers and planning.
At least in English, idk about the original Japanese, Hythlodaeus's shade describes the time of the Sundering as if the world wasn't in utter ruin at that point. It was beginning to heal, they had restored some natural systems, but the Ancients were short in numbers. At that point, they were done sacrificing their own people, in time they were going to sacrifice other life - plants and animals, to restore those lost brethren.
At the very least, Hythlodaeus's completely different account shows that the two sects of people post-Zodiark were viewing their sacrifice and end goal in completely different ways. Ethics aside, whether the competing goal was achievable or not… we will never know, because Venat stopped it from happening.
But I don't think either recounting has a monopoly on the truth. There was no One Truth, there were just competing needs and perspectives. And though Venat insists that unity is necessary to avert the Endsinger - she perpetuates this division. Azem refused her followers call to help summon Hydaelyn, and I think that's significant.
But I'll also acknowledge that Azem didn't manage to save the Ancients, either.
And you could argue that the Ancients were their own worst enemy. They kind of were.
Hermes was a really, really great caricature of severe, untreated Depression. And he had the powers of a god. His creations were sent to find a specific answer in the world beyond, and like their creator, they didn't have the tools to process hearing an answer other than what they were expecting. They were trapped in their own perspective. He was looking for answers in the stars, instead of in himself. Their own pain and inability to engage with emotion in a healthy way overwhelmed every encounter they had and created the very reality he so feared.
He did not use the proper channels for peer review before sending them out on their mission. Those rules, those checks and balances, that community approach to design, existed to protect the Ancients from their own power, and he deliberately acted in secret. He isolated himself from society, convinced himself his pain was something nobody could understand, made an island of himself and doubled down on his own jaded beliefs.
I don't know what kind of mental health facilities were available to the Ancients - we just don't have that information. But I do know that he was treated with patience and forgiveness by a significant number of colleagues, and his quirks weren't held against him. People did try to help and accommodate him, even if they didn't always understand. He had been promoted to a powerful position. I don't know if it's fair to blame anyone in particular, or even their society, for what happened. Because again... everyone was doing the best they could with what they had.
If anything, the problem was that literally any Ancient could have made a similar mistake in the right situation. They were ALL that powerful. Eventually chaos would happen. Sundered souls can certainly create destruction, but not on the same scale.
I don't personally agree with Hydaelyn's decision not to reach out to the Convocation. I understand being careful, and thinking through what the next step should be before acting. But there's a LOT of "maybes" in this argument:
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And ultimately, it's her doing the same thing as Hermes, putting the power of judgement over an entire people in her own hands. She's assuming that she is in a unique position to decide the fate of the entire Star. It's not evil. But it's arrogant. She wasn't special among the Ancients, gifted with some unique wisdom. She was doing the best she could from her own perspective.
Plus... if half your population, and then another half again are about to sacrifice themselves... what have you got to lose by outing Hermes and/or trying to work with the Convocation to avert that loss of life? We don't have all the details, I'm willing to accept that there were circumstances that made it impossible, or at least made Venat decide against trying it. But even so. What did you have to lose leading up to the summoning of Zodiark? There was already panic and destruction at that point.
Hydaelyn sacrificed a lot of people to accomplish her goals. She made a goddess of herself and manipulated people like Minfilia on that basis. She killed so many children and stole so many lives even just by reincarnating Minfilia over and over on the First. She misrepresents the nature of the Ascians to the WoL, keeps secrets, and essentially charges you with being a crusader in her Holy War.
It's Emet- Selch who tries to bridge the gap. Not Hydaelyn. It's him who's willing to consider trying to achieve his goals without bloodshed, if you, the WoL, are strong enough. He says this to himself, out of anyone else's hearing. There's no reason for it to be a lie.
And just before Mt. Gulg, you can see Emet starting to question his beliefs about humanity because of the WoL's accomplishments. Hydaelyn has nothing to do with that. It's all you. And Emet succumbs to his own weaknesses too, so we never get to know what that might have happened if you'd had more time with him. He's not better than her.
But I think it's significant that he's the one who reaches out. Who's willing to consider a compromise at all.
In war you make sacrifices, I get that. But she was not more heroic, somehow, than the Ascians. Both sides were doing terrible things and denying the agency of mortals in order to achieve their ideal world.
So to me... she was not a benevolent incomprehensibly wise mother figure. Much like in real life we go from being kids who trust our moms implicitly, to adults who realize our mother was human and made mistakes, I think we’re supposed to recognize that Hydaelyn didn't do everything right and its our job to carry the future forward for subsequent generations, to learn from what came before, and hope that our own children do the same and forgive us for our own mistakes.
I think its very important to note that the WoL is just as much the Convocation's creation as Hydaelyn's. Without being rejoined as many times as they were, the WoL wouldn’t have survived. She saves you from the Ultima Weapon, Emet-Selch saves you from Elidibus, and its their powers combined that save you and your friends from the Endsinger. You are the legacy of each side’s imperfect love, equally.
WHICH brings me to my point of perplexion. Hydaelyn continues to be venerated. NPCs who know what happened continue to emphasize her side of things. I feel I must be missing something, because to me, the finale of Endwalker essentially shattered any idea that this was a Light vs Dark kind of story. People made choices. People made mistakes. It wasn't good or evil. It was human. We survived in spite of our mistakes because love was more powerful than our imperfections.
The Scions sacrificed themselves one by one just like the Ancients. And got brought back using energy from the Star... not all that different than what the Ascians had planned to do with their own brethren. I just don't see much functional difference there in the sentiments between either side.
I don't think we're supposed to hate Hydaelyn. I don't think she was evil. But I don't think she was better than the Ascians.
So while I don't expect, or want, characters to be condemning her left and right in the narrative, it's still baffling to me that there's such consistent, explicit reverence for her.
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cinnamonest · 9 months
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Ever since i saw your whiney darling stuff i fell in love! Please tell us more! Maybe like how some characters would react to a really mean bitchy darling who always fights them! Or a rlly whiney prissy girl, like one of those entitled brat darlings, maybe for kazuha or childe where she thinks their whole life style is too gross for her
Ohhhh noooo those two would be so awful, albeit for different reasons... also making note of a few others worth mentioning for this concept
Kazuha is a better fit initially, but becomes progressively more frightening, whereas Childe is just an absolute menace overall. Childe finds your brattiness cute, at least for a while. He goes out of his way to provoke you and mess with you, especially anything that gets squeals and panic out of you. For example, if you're grossed out by blood and keep complaining about his tendency to come home practically caked with it or freak out when he tries to touch you with it all over his hands, he makes sure to do so to a greater extent, just for you! He's basically just awful because he'll pick at the things you dislike and actively do anything he can to upset you because it's just so cute.
That being said, he himself is picky about your behaviors in the sense of timing. He wants you to be all pouty and upset, but only when he wants it. Like, he'll do something to mess with you and get your reaction one minute, but now he's done with that, moving on, and wants you to be all affectionate and... you're not. What do you mean, you're still upset about what he did 5 minutes ago? Now this is a problem, he's supposed to be able to just sort of shift your moods around like a light switch. He doesn't want you to be irked anymore, he wants you to be happy and nice now so why are you mad and not immediately conforming to what he wills you to feel like at any given second? Unbelievable.
Kazuha on the other hand... he manages very well, in terms of his own emotional regulation, and he's better at first than Childe because he's accommodating, tries his best to please you. He doesn't get outwardly angry or loud or volatile, no, he handles it the same way he does everything, with a soft smile on his face that's starting to seem a bit eerie the more you complain and the quieter and more twitchy he gets. He can actually take quite a bit of your abuse with a soft smile on his face, only trying to gently dissuade you. Hey, now, let's be reasonable..., or it's not so bad, see?, or don't worry, we can stop and rest soon, so on and so on... for a while. He has his limits.
Something you do eventually pushes him over the edge. His smile doesn't drop, but you'll just be whining and complaining and all of a sudden his hand is around your throat with a crushing, asphyxiating grip.
Hey... let's try to be more positive for a little bit, okay? Can you do that for me?
The intensity of your windpipe being crushed is so unmatched with his pleasant expression and soft tone that it leaves you reeling. But he's waiting on an answer, and you find yourself frantically nodding your head so he'll let go. Needless to say it keeps you quiet and well-behaved for a while. Until you inevitably act out again, leading him to another slow build-up of frustration until you get him to snap again, and next time might be a little more aggressive.
Also worth mentioning: there's another tier of being a bad fit, but in a different sort of way: Kaveh, Thoma, Chongyun and Bennett. All four poor things try so hard to bend to your every whim and are so desperate to make you happy that they'd wear themselves ragged trying to fix anything you whine about. Problem is that if that's just your nature, eventually it's going to reach a point where they get genuinely depressed and discouraged. At the very least, Thoma can probably accommodate your tastes a bit given that he's living on a very nice estate, and Chongyun can sometimes get a certain friend to donate some funds for him to use to make you happy, but the other two are screwed. Kaveh doesn't exactly have a lot of spending money, and even on the rare occasion Bennett finds a chest that has actual mora in it, something always goes wrong with trying to buy you something. So you'll just have to live with their frugal lifestyles... please, they'll get hurt if you're too mean about it, and can you really live with yourself knowing you've made them sad? Could you really look into those eyes and be mean?
Diluc is somewhere in the middle actually, but leaning more towards a good fit simply because he has the resources. He does have a disdain for snobbish behavior on your part, but to be honest, he quickly realizes that just giving you what you want is far easier than trying to reason with you, and he actually has the means to do so, so, he thus ends up admittedly often just giving in. Less whining that way, and frankly, whining irks him very quickly. Oh, and not to mention, he gives in easily because he still holds out hope that tending to and appeasing your pickiness will hopefully endear him to you, and he's desperate for anything that can accomplish that. One could argue this makes him both a good and bad fit for such an individual -- good in the sense that he can fulfill your desires, but bad because by doing so, he's just making your spoiled tendencies that much worse.
Xingqiu is primarily difficult because frankly, you having brat tendencies makes you two of a kind. As much as he tries to maintain his chivalrous humble aura, as always, that chivalry thing tends to suddenly dissipate when he starts not getting his way. And when that happens, you'll find he can be incredibly stubborn.  And when you're stubborn and picky and he's stubborn and picky you two are going to reach an impasse very quickly. Because he wants to do this, go here, eat this, get up and go to bed at this time and have you wear this and do this thing together, but what you want is totally different from everything he wants, and that's an issue. Obviously, logically the less important opinion (yours) should be the one that gets overridden, but you seem pretty reluctant to agree. Truly baffling.
He's pretty pushy about it, but with a smile and pleasant demeanor, trying to maintain the charismatic image of himself he likes to exude. After a while, though, you can whittle him down further and further to the point that he snaps and his spoiled rich child side comes out in full force, but only for a few seconds before he catches himself and corrects it. Only now, he's even more irritated at you for making him do that, treats it as if you actively committed some transgression against him.
And lastly, Albedo is also one that can't really be categorized as good or bad -- he's technically good at dealing with it, but in such a way that is very bad for your sake. He's definitely the most humiliating to deal with, and he nips the brat behavior in the bud very quickly. He doesn't get angry very easily, he stays calm and collected even if you throw tantrums and get furious. Eventually, after enough of him silently taking your complaining, he finally speaks.
Mm. Alright then.
You don't like the tone he uses, and it's ominous foreboding of what's to come.
Basically, he takes the route of malicious compliance. You complain about his presence, and you find yourself being dumped outside the front door in the freezing cold.
Well, you did say you didn't want to spend another second with me in the room, so I suppose you'll have to wait out here. Unless you'd like me to let you back in.
Complain about food? Alright, then you can just not eat. Complain about sleeping in the same bed? Have fun on the floor with no blankets, at least until you nicely ask to be allowed back in bed. Complain that he keeps staring at you when he's fucking you? You can be flipped onto your front side and get choked and railed from behind instead. Complain about the clothes he gives you? Okay, you can have none.
Basically he's a little bastard about it, but the most infuriating part is that it works, and very quickly too. You inevitably find yourself watching your tongue more often, and complaining less, and being more submissive. But if it gets to where you're a little bit too compliant, he might start going out of his way to do subtle little things to pull some more bratty outbursts out of you... after all, said outbursts are cute, so he doesn't want them to disappear completely, and your teary eyes and humiliation later on is even cuter.
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my-beloved-lakes · 9 months
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I just now noticed the dirty/scolding look Sophie gives Breanna when Breanna asked if Eliot was off to kill someone in The Fractured Job. It was very subtle, but if you watch carefully it's there.
While I did think it was funny, her question also bugged me a little, even though I know she was joking, cuz it felt a little insensitive considering all the guilt Eliot feels about his past. But now that I think about it it actually kinda makes sense that she wouldn't understand how insensitive it could be. Like yes, she knows Eliot and she's known him for a long time. But she knows a different side of him than everyone else. She knew him as the cool, badass uncle who her older brother always brought to family gatherings and Christmas and stuff. She probably knows little snippets of Eliot's past but not enough to fully realize that her joke might be a little insensitive. (She would never intentionally be insensitive about it!) Eliot probably never let her see the guilt ridden side of himself because she's like his little kid niece.
Her joke didn't really seem to bother Eliot that much, but Sophie immediately shut it down and I love that. Because Sophie knows just how much guilt Eliot feels and she knows it's something that's caused him a lot of pain. And like Hardison said, they trust her to make sure they're okay. So even if Breanna's joke didn't actually bother Eliot, Sophie still felt like she needed to let Breanna know to back off a bit. And then Breanna did back off.
Idk what point I'm trying to make here but I thought it was an interesting little detail.
Edit: just in case it wasn't clear, (I should have made this more clear to begin with.) This is not a hate post about Breanna or even a criticism really! The way I see it, Breanna didn't know and had no way of knowing what she said would be insensitive because Eliot didn't let her know. That's what I was trying to get at. Eliot has been doing a very good job of shielding her from his past and she knows a different side of him than the others. I don't want negative things about Breanna said on this post (or any of my posts for that matter.) Of course everyone is entitled to their opinions but please don't put that sort of thing on my posts. If you have something negative to say about Breanna go make your own post please and thank you.
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corruptedcaps · 9 months
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Letting Her Hair Down
“Sarah! You have to help me! I don’t have much time, she’ll take over again any minute. You have to find a way to destroy my ponytail. It’s the reason I’ve become a bully and a bitch and… and… ohhhh no I can feel her taking over again ahhhhhh…. Sarah? What do you want loser? I have places to be. God you’re such a tragic fashion case.”
Sarah looked at Chloe, the resident queen bee of high school and her former dorky friend, with confusion. One minute had been walking down the hall looking like the poster child for being an entitled princess, the next second she slipped and banged her head on the ground.
Sarah being the good person that she was rushed over to help her back up when Chloe started rambling about her ponytail being evil and controlling her. Had she just been pranked by Chloe with this insane story? Then again it did make some sort of sense. Before Chloe had had her bitch makeover she had been a kind and reserved girl, with an underdeveloped body but a good heart. But ever since she got back from her vacation sporting her new bougie and haughty look, with bolted on big tits and a piercing hot stare, she had been a terror to everyone, especially Sarah. Could it be all because of her ponytail? Sarah needed to find out but for now she had to play dumb.
“Oh sorry Chloe it was nothing.” Sarah said sheepishly. Chloe rolled her eyes and pushed Sarah out of the way and left.
As Chloe sauntered off, Sarah's mind raced with thoughts. She couldn't let her former friend suffer in this bizarre predicament. Determination filled her, and she made up her mind to investigate further. If there was any truth to Chloe's claims, she had to find a way to help her break free from the ponytail's grip.
Determined to find answers, Sarah delved into researching anything and everything about hair that could control someone. That’s when she came across the Hairasite.
According to the legend, hairasites were parasitic organisms that resembled strands of hair but possessed a malevolent consciousness. They were known to attach themselves to unsuspecting hosts, taking control of their minds and manipulating their behavior. Sarah's heart skipped a beat as she read accounts of women exhibiting striking similarities to Chloe's transformation.
She discovered that the hairasite's control over its host could be severed by severing its physical connection. The only solution was to cut off the strand of hair hosting the parasite and destroy it completely.
With her newfound knowledge, Sarah formulated a plan to free Chloe from the hairasite's grip. She knew she had to get Chloe alone, away from prying eyes, to execute her daring rescue mission. After careful consideration, she decided to trick Chloe with an offer she couldn't refuse—a coveted invitation to an exclusive fashion event.
Sarah knew Chloe's new vanity would be her downfall. She crafted a fake invitation to a fictitious cheerleader fashion showcase, one that would lure Chloe into a private dressing room on the far side of school where Sarah could safely carry out her plan. The invitation, complete with glamorous details and a promise of VIP treatment, was carefully slipped into Chloe's locker.
As Chloe entered the private dressing room, her eyes which had been full of anticipation soon turned sour as she saw nothing but an empty room. Then she heard the door behind her click as it was locked.
As Chloe turned around to see what was happening, Sarah pounced. With a surge of strength, Sarah lunged at Chloe, grabbing her by the shoulders and wrestling her to the ground. They grappled with each other, their struggle fueled by a mix of desperation and the raw determination of friendship.
“Oh I am going to enjoy getting revenge on you when I get out of here.” Chloe said with a bone chilling laugh as she fought back fiercely, getting the upper hand. Sarah could feel the hairasite's influence giving Chloe’s body strength. But Sarah refused to give up. With a final burst of energy, she managed to pin Chloe down and swiftly reached for a pair of scissors.
In one smooth motion, Sarah snipped the ponytail clean off Chloe's head, severing the hairasite's connection to its host. The air crackled with tension as the room fell into a stunned silence. Sarah watched in wonder as Chloe’s body started to revert back to normal. Her kind soft face emerging from the cruel sharp facade it had once been. Her too nearly slipping off her as her breasts deflated and her height shrank. Disheveled and panting, she stared at Sarah with wide eyes, realization dawning upon her.
Chloe's gratitude poured forth as she regained her senses, her voice trembling with emotion. "Sarah, thank you... thank you for saving me from that nightmare. I don't know what I would've become without you."
However, as Chloe expressed her heartfelt gratitude, a sinister voice slithered into Sarah's mind, intertwining with her thoughts. "Sarah, dear Sarah, I underestimated you," the hairasite hissed, its voice silky and persuasive. "Imagine the power you could possess, the beauty you could radiate if I had chosen you and not Chloe. Join me, embrace me, and together we will rule this world."
Sarah's eyes widened in disbelief as she looked down at her hand to see she was gripping the ponytail she had snipped off Chloe’s head. She watched it’s tendrils reach for her like a weak newborn. Chloe's voice became distant, muffled by the seductive promises echoing in her mind.
The hairasite's voice grew louder, insidious and persuasive. "Sarah, don't you want to be admired? Don't you want to be noticed and feared? You have the power within you. Just embrace me, and we will become unstoppable."
As Sarah grappled with her inner turmoil, she locked eyes with Chloe, desperately trying to maintain her connection to reality. Deep down, she knew she had to find a way to rid herself of the hairasite's influence, but it was becoming harder by the second to not succumb to its alluring promises.
Chloe noticed the change in Sarah's demeanor, her concern deepening. "Sarah, what's wrong? You feeling ok?"
Ignoring the hairasite's relentless persuasion, Sarah took a deep breath and locked eyes with Chloe. "I need to destroy this hairasite once and for all. I have to get to the teachers lounge." Without another word Sarah unlocked the door and ran as fast as she could to the boiler room.
As Sarah's heart pounded with determination, the hairasite's voice grew more desperate. "Sarah, don't you see? I can give you power, beauty, everything you've ever wanted. We can become an even bigger bitch than Chloe was. We can bully her just like she did to you."
Sarah knew she needed to end this fast as she was starting to get turned on by the thoughts the hairasite was putting in her mind. Images of her commanding a clique of beta bitches to do her bidding and lording it over Chloe was making her unbelievably wet.
Breathing heavily, Sarah burst through the door of the teachers lounge, thankfully empty. She saw her goal though, the disused and often forgot about fireplace. With a trembling hand, built a small pyre of sticks and lit a fire beneath and watched the flames dance around and consume the wood, hungry for more.
The hairasite's voice intensified, filled with urgency as it tried one last ditch effort. "You can be in control!" It said as Sarah was one swing away from destroying it forever.
Sarah's hand paused mid-swing, uncertainty etching across her face. She turned to face the hairasite, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "You have 15 seconds, explain."
The hairasite seized this opportunity, its voice dripping with convincing charm. "Absolutely, Sarah. I took full control of Chloe because she was boring and dull and had no interest in being a bitch but you… you I can sense want it. You crave it. You want to possess unparalleled dominance over those who have ever underestimated you. I don’t need to control you if you’re lust for the same things I do. Just me on your head, and I'll grant you the power you desire."
Hesitation clung to Sarah's every fiber, but the allure of control tugged at her deepest desires. The longing to be noticed, respected, and feared intensified within her. Swallowing her doubts, she cautiously lifted the severed ponytail, gingerly placing it atop her head.
As the hairasite made contact with Sarah's scalp, a sharp jolt coursed through her body. She winced, feeling the hairasite burrowing deeper, intertwining itself with her being. A surge of power rippled through her veins, and she could feel her entire existence beginning to transform.
As the hairasite's influence surged through Sarah's veins, her transformation continued with astonishing speed and detail. Her nails, once short and plain, elongated into sharp, perfectly manicured talons. Each nail shimmered with a deep shade of crimson, perfectly complementing her newfound allure.
Her makeup shifted dramatically, reflecting the captivating charm the hairasite bestowed upon her. Her eyes were accentuated with smoky, seductive eyeshadow, emphasizing their piercing intensity. Thick, luscious lashes framed her gaze, fluttering with a hypnotic allure. Her cheeks radiated a soft rosy blush, enhancing her flawless, tan complexion.
Her skin took on a sun-kissed glow, a subtle tan that exuded the vibrant energy of a cheerleader on the field. It enhanced her already alluring features, lending an air of radiant confidence that demanded admiration.
Sarah's lips transformed into a pout that demanded attention. They became plump and sensuous, painted in a vibrant shade of pink, adding to her irresistible charm. Each word that escaped her now-glossed lips would drip with a confident magnetism, captivating those who dared to listen.
In addition, her breasts seemed to have defied gravity, becoming more ample and accentuated, drawing attention to her newfound confidence. Her figure, now curvaceous and alluring, would command attention from all who laid eyes upon her.
Sarah's demeanor shifted entirely. Once a kind and compassionate soul, she now exuded an aura of dominance and entitlement. Her voice carried a sharp edge, dripping with venomous superiority. Her posture adopted an air of confident dominance. Her eyes sparkled with an icy gaze that dared anyone to challenge her.
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Sarah had become the embodiment of the hairasite's promises—a captivating, powerful force that would leave a trail of both admiration and fear in her wake. As she surveyed her transformed reflection in a nearby mirror, a wicked smile spread across her face.
As she twirled a lock of her glossy, transformed hair between her fingertips, Sarah couldn't help but revel in the newfound attention she would undoubtedly receive. She was now a force to be reckoned with, leaving a trail of admirers and envious gazes in her wake.
As Chloe cautiously entered the teachers lounge, her eyes widened in shock at the sight before her. Standing there, radiating confidence and exuding an aura of dominance, was the transformed Sarah. Her gaze turned icy, and a unnerving smile curled upon her lips as she locked eyes with Chloe.
"Well, well, well," Sarah sneered, her voice dripping with cruelty. "Look who decided to follow. Surprised to see the new me?"
Chloe stumbled backward, her voice trembling. "You let her go! It’s me you want, she doesn’t deserve this! Fight it Sarah, don't let this control you!"
A mocking laughter escaped Sarah's lips as she relished in Chloe's bewildered expression. "Oh, Chloe, I’m not being controlled by anyone or anything expect my long buried desires. It's time you realized that power and beauty is all I’ve ever wanted. I've shed my former self, and I won't be held back by weak friendships anymore."
Chloe's eyes welled up with tears, hurt and confusion etched across her face. "No! You’re lying! I don’t believe you! Give me my friend back!"
Sarah's expression hardened, devoid of empathy. “Friend? That's amusing. I have no use for the weak and pitiful. And just to prove it’s me, how about I let my hair down?”
Sarah reached up to the ponytail tie and pulled it. Her blonde hair cascaded down and flowed hypnotically with every sway. She ran her perfectly manicured fingers through her locks, feeling a pleasurable tingle.
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“See? There is no hairasite anymore. No Sarah. We are one cruel, manipulative and sexy bitch called Sasha and you’re just a loser nobody who could of had it all but now you’re just in my way.”
With those cutting words, Sasha pushed past Chloe, leaving her standing there, shattered and betrayed. The transformed Sasha reveled in her newfound power, savoring the control she now held over Chloe's emotions, and soon the rest of the school.
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chawarin-panich · 7 months
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Boston giving Sand the Reality Check he needed Part 1 of 2: Boston's Reasoning
This is my thoughts on Boston and Ray's fallout, how and why it came about and how Sand did really need it - which I start talking about in this meta - even though despite Boston's insistence his purpose was never to help Sand. I didn't mean to make this two parts but I started writing the Boston portion of the meta and it turned into what it did kajsfhsdkjfh and I needed to approach Sand and Ray's portion a little more seriously. Without further ado, here goes:
[SCENE START] Imagine you are Boston, the son of a politician, loaded with money but not a lot of visibility or acceptance (I mean if you watch enough Thai dramas you know what politician is code for - corruption, deception, selfishness, entitlement). You are extremely entitled, extremely guarded and extremely unscrupulous and this is what you've been taught life is, what successful, powerful people are like and you are successful and powerful even though things have not quite been going your way recently. Even though earlier on in the day you had your first human emotion:
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(give the boy a break he is starting to figure out why people have boyfriends okay? much less that he also kind of wants one??? the emotional TOLL he is under oh boy)
and on top of all that suddenly you have been called for emotional support??? Mew is supposed to call Ray this is very much not your job!!! Can Mew's virgin ass please get over one stupid kiss already???
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So Mew has called you and he is THE LAST person you ever want to help with THE LAST problem you've ever wanted to help him with. But you squeeze down the sting of rejection, the inferiority you feel from it - are you perhaps?? not as successful and powerful as you thought??? - and you try to be a normal, human person for A SECOND TIME in ONE day (!!!!) and be a good friend
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And you did such a good job!!! You didn't play into his insecurities or try to ruin it for him - even though you wanted to!!! - because at the end of the day Mew is your friend and you know how important his virginity is to him. And now you are ready for some MUCH NEEDED REST from all that decent human being cosplay that you've been doing. And there is a cute guy who likes you and he has an apartment where you can go and fuck him and even though the day is ruined there is still chance for the night to recover but uh oh!!!! What's that???
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A Situation You Do Not Understand!!!!! Involving the man who fucked up being manipulated so badly that you had to do 5 seconds of emotional labor earlier that day. Now, you have a choice as an adult to mind your business and walk away into that promised room of fucking that cute guy you were going to fuck. But you are also The Son of a Politician and if there is one thing you know it's that information is power and the instinct to meddle like a 70 year old auntie is slowly overtaking your senses. And so you ask a seemingly innocent question with auntie-adjacent straightforwardness:
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And your hot mess of a best friend comes up with the shadiest, juiciest answer while his partner is looking at him like his soul is leaving his body:
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On top of that there is weed????? In the form of a delicious looking cookie?????? At this point you are on a missive FROM GOD to find out What The Fuck is Going On.
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And what the fuck IS going on?????
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An absolute bonkers situation is unfolding, Ray somehow in the mess of his life and his unrequited feelings for Mew is living some romcom with the cute bar singer! Ray!!! The alcoholic!!!!! the one friend you could always count on to make you feel better about the mess that is your life. The one friend you will always be superior to - THAT RAY???
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And to make matters worse!!! The cute guy you're with Knows Everything. You have been so busy squeezing out three drops of human emotions because you want to keep the Cute Guy You Kind Of Sort Of Might Like around that you forgot to get around to the 'so do you know any gossip' portion of the casual fucking programming.
Not only are you fucking up your duties to the Politicians' Son Upbringing but the dormant auntie inside you gets another whiff of that fat, juicy gossip as Ray pulls a second 'We Are Just Friends' after you JUST witnessed Sand feed him an edible WITH HIS MOUTH
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And you're not trying to stir shit - promise!!! - you just want to see your alcoholic friend stutter and get awkward, put in his place a little bit because Mew might have you beat but there's no way that this flaming hot mess has you beat.
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Except!!! UH OH!!!! Ray is an idiot! He is so in wanting of love and finding himself undeserving of it that he has genuinely Not Noticed that the man next to him is In Love With Him. He is not you!! - acutely aware of how his cute guy is in love with him - he is Discovering That Sand Likes Him and somehow you have been duped into helping????
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Sand's soul is back in his body and they are somehow Being Worse than before. But your Help A Friend Quota is OUT! You have spent IT ALL on Mew earlier and You. Are. Done. Only one person is allowed to cosplay a decent human being tonight and BY GOD it will not be Ray! The only thing left to do is To Bring Out The Gasoline.
And So? You Do.
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[END SCENE]
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feeder86 · 2 years
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Bro Code
Oscar sighed, coming out of another entertainment interview and feeling completely drained after pretending to be upbeat about the show’s season finale and its renewal for season four. His jaws ached from the smiling and he ran over in his mind the questions he had stumbled on, again and again. Every interviewer, no matter who was conducting it, seemed to want him to address the rumours about the on-set tension. They’d brought it on themselves in a way. His chemistry with Dean on the screen was something all the early reviewers had applauded; the media were always going to be out for blood at the merest hint of tension behind the scenes.
The show had always been an unlikely hit: a romantic, crime-drama series, featuring a gay superhero and his male love interest. Oscar had been thrilled to get the part three years ago, although the production company had been clear that he hadn’t been their first choice. After the pilot, there had been an outcry that the original actor for Oscar’s part was straight. LGBTQI groups had petitioned and made their voices heard loud and clear that that sort of casting was not something they were willing to take lightly. So, only days before full production was set to begin, Oscar had been shipped out to Los Angeles to take over the role and, as far as he was concerned, it had all been downhill from there.
The set had been toxic from day one: a battleground of nepotism and inflated egos. Oscar had got the sense that he was just a necessary evil to the producers. He did his job, helped to pull in the viewers and allowed the show to continue rolling on; but they didn’t have to like him or show any recognition that he was a vital part of their success. The heart of the problem was, and always had been the lead actor himself, Dean Greg. With his family owning a major share in the production company, Dean had strolled straight into the lead role of The Silence; a lesser-known comic book superhero of the late 2000s, and one of the first to be openly gay. Oscar had grown up watching Dean on another show, a teen comedy the guy had gone into straight after finishing high school; Dean’s family had owned that production too. It was partly why Oscar had taken the role on this show so eagerly, despite his blossoming career in the UK; the opportunity to be the love interest for Dean Greg on a prime time show. He could practically hear his sixteen year old self screaming in excitement at the idea. But the Dean he imagined in his head was very different to the reality.
There was a certain skill to Hollywood arrogance and entitlement, but Dean had seemed to master it well. Perhaps it would have been more forgivable if Dean had brought something outstanding to the show, but the reality was, he was nothing special. The man was a comedy actor, and the dark, brooding tone of the show seemed to clash rather remarkably with his style. Oscar had lost count of the number of late finishes he had had, with Dean needing take after take to get things right. If it had been Oscar causing that sort of pressure on the production, he could just imagine what would have been said to him; but not the golden boy.
Back in the days when Oscar watched Dean on his old TV show, ‘Bro Code’, the idea that the guy would one day play a muscle-bound superhero wasn’t immediately obvious. Sure, Dean’s impressive height and build were already there, but he was also pretty overweight and not at all toned. His character, Codey, had been a loveable idiot, lazy and comically laid back about everything in life. Oscar’s crush on him had been deep and he sometimes felt that when he dated guys, he was constantly, and ridiculously, comparing them to the entirely fictional character he had fallen in love with back in his teens.
“Are you worried about type-casting?” asked the next interviewer with a sickly smile; as if she wasn’t asking a question that poked at one of Oscar's biggest worries.
“Not really,” Oscar lied. “I don’t plan on staying in Los Angeles once the show wraps up.” Inwardly, he kicked himself. The producers always told him to never talk about the show ending. Like the superhero it portrayed, they wanted it to be perceived as invincible. “What I mean is,” he clarified, “I’d want to return to the UK and take on some projects there instead. But that’s way, way off in the future. The show still has many more left in it.” he added, hoping that that might prevent him from getting a telling off later.
“Now to the question that everyone is asking,” the interviewer went on. “You and Dean make such a lovely pairing on screen. But, rumour has it that you two don’t actually get along in real life. What can you tell us about that?”
Stifling the urge to sigh in defeat, Oscar simply smiled politely back and prepared to lie for the hundredth time that day. The superlatives that he used to describe his co-star rolled off his tongue with ease, as he denied, quite emphatically, that there was anything but perfect harmony on set. He knew, as well as everyone else did, that that illusion had to be maintained at all times.
The summer break slipped away all too soon and Oscar’s dread about returning was amplified when he read that the first episode was to be shot by a director he particularly despised. He’d clashed with the guy since the first season, and despite making several complaints about the sexist, bullying and outright homophobic ramblings of the man, here he was again, invited back to direct another six episodes this year. The superhero genre wasn’t especially Oscar’s thing. He looked over the scripts, wondering where the fan interest even came from. Episode two read almost word for word like a story they had done back in season two. Then again, he thought with a thrill of excitement, if the viewing figures declined, maybe they wouldn’t get picked up next year!
Dean’s new girlfriend was hovering about on the set, making a nuisance of herself and, inexplicably, getting away with it. Oscar rolled his eyes at the double standards. Unlike the actor who had previously had his part in the pilot, Dean had declared himself bisexual in order to keep his role when all the critics started petitioning the casting. It was all a joke. Oscar had never once seen the guy with anyone other than blonde, petit, plastic-looking things with oversized breasts that made them look overbalanced and ready to topple over.
Oscar climbed into his trailer and collapsed onto his couch, burying his head under the cushions. “Arsehole!” he growled, having just been belittled by his most hated director. “Get me out of this fucking shithole!” he complained into the fabric of the sofa. 
Just then, Oscar heard the flush of his toilet and he jumped in surprise. Someone was in his trailer! He sat bolt upright and watched the door swing open. Then, shockingly, Dean looked at him, seemingly irritated that Oscar was even there.
“What are you doing in my trailer?” Oscar asked, disgusted by the invasion into his private space.
“Hiding,” Dean simply replied. “They’ve got some sort of fan experience thing… someone who won a competition to enable them to spend a day on set with me. I don’t know - something along those lines. It’s all bullshit. I’m not due on set for another hour and no one will ever find me in here.” With that, he parked himself down heavily on the chair and grabbed his cell phone, already plugged in and charging from the wall.
“You could have asked first,” Oscar mumbled. “This is the only place I have for myself.”
Dean swiped through his phone and seemed entirely disinterested. “Yeah, I heard your little rant. Who’s pissed you off now?” he asked in a tired and disinterested voice. 
“It’s nothing,” Oscar spat through gritted teeth. He didn’t have the sort of relationship with Dean where he could discuss anything. Plus, he was always likely to go reporting back to his family and stir up a whole new load of issues, accusing Oscar of being a trouble-maker. With no friends here, Oscar usually knew his only option was to suffer in silence. He looked at Dean, making himself at home in his trailer and felt the pit of dread in his stomach at the thought of going back out on set. That was when his rage boiled over. “I just can’t fucking wait for this show to be over already.” he almost shouted. “There’s no way in hell I’m coming back next year!”
Dean smirked, still looking at his cell phone. “I don’t like your chances. My dad will sue your ass in the blink of an eye if you try to back out of your contract.”
Oscar huffed in annoyance, but that flat, brutal reminder was enough to silence his complaints, and he simply sat there, grinding his teeth, wishing that Dean would just get the fuck out of his trailer.
“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t want to be here any more than you do,” Dean stated breezily back. “I never even wanted to do this show in the first place.”
Oscar rolled his eyes, not believing a word of it. “You fucking love it,” he countered. “Or is it stressful being everybody’s golden boy?”
“I’m only here because I have it in my contract that my dad will sign over the rights to my old TV show to me,” Dean stated frankly, looking up from his cell phone at last. “You really think I want to spend the whole of my summer off doing insane workouts and nutrition plans just to play a dumb superhero role?”
Oscar thought for a second. “You want to reboot Bro Code?” he asked in disbelief.
“That show was the best job I ever had,” Dean laughed, with a smile of fond memories on his face. “It wasn’t even acting. I just turned up and said my lines. There was none of this fantasy bullshit to try and make convincing. If I’m honest, I can’t even follow half the scripts for this show.”
The fanboy in Oscar quivered inside. “I’d be over the moon if you ever did manage to bring Bro Code back!” he smiled. “I know pretty much every single line of all six seasons!”
“Really?” Dean asked, sounding mildly interested. “I didn’t know you’d ever seen it.”
Oscar resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He’d only talked about his great love of Dean’s old show in every single one of his interviews to promote their series. In one fan-favourite interview, he’d been asked to do a ‘Bro Code’ quiz against some supernerds, coming out victorious. He’d always known that Dean didn’t have an ounce of interest in him, so it was hardly surprising that he didn’t watch any of his interviews on TV.
“So, if I did manage to get the show rebooted, where do you think my character, Codey, would be now? Eight years later?” Dean asked, turning a little, like he was genuinely interested in what Oscar might have to say.
Oscar inhaled excitedly. It was exactly the sort of conversation he had been dying to have with Dean for years; back before he knew what a self-absorbed jerk he was. “Codey would be living the life of his dreams,” he chuckled. “That guy always landed on his feet!”
Dean nodded in agreement. 
“He’d have married some super-hot chick; probably a chef or something. Everyone would be really jealous of that. He loves his food, so he’s probably eaten so much of her cooking that he’s absolutely enormous by now. But… you know what Codey is like. He’d love it. It would make him feel more masculine. He’d call the other characters puny…”
Oscar was about to reel off a great many more ideas about where he saw the character now, but Dean’s face made him stop. The man’s jaw had dropped and he stared at Oscar with an almost indescribable expression. “That’s EXACTLY where I see him now as well!” Dean exclaimed. “Right down to the super-hot chef as his wife! I’ve asked so many people that question and no-one has ever come close to having the same vision as me!”
“Really?” Oscar asked, genuinely perplexed. “But it’s so obvious!”
Despite the fact that Oscar was pulled back onto set not long afterwards, things between him and Dean seemed to change quite a lot after that day. At first, he was perplexed to see Dean coming to see him in his trailer (never once knocking first), but pretty soon, it became something of a norm. Dean was deadly serious about wanting to bring back his old show, and he gradually began to share his notebooks, storyboards and jokes that he’d been storing up since he’d successfully negotiated the rights to the show from his family; only coming into effect once the current show ended. Laughter began to emerge from the trailer as the pair of them bounced gags off each other and came up with more and more potential plotlines. Within a few short weeks, there was enough material for a full 22-episode season, and possibly more. It was amazing how many stories Codey’s size would create as well; stuff that had never ever been done on television before.
“Won’t you be fed up of wearing a fat suit though?” Oscar asked, as Dean began describing one of the physical comedy sequences he could play out.
“No, I plan to gain the weight for real,” Dean stated with certainly. “Fat suits are for losers. They never look right either.”
“But… your abs…” Oscar mumbled, thinking back to the shirtless scene he’d done with Dean only that morning.
“They’re going!” Dean chuckled, rubbing his flat stomach. “As soon as this shit show ends, I’m going to be downing pints of whipping cream, stuffing doughnuts down my throat and having as many ten thousand calorie days as I can.” He seems more excited by that idea than Oscar had ever seen him. “And I can’t fucking wait!” he smiled.
Late September hit and the fourth season that they had been working on for over two months finally began to air. Reviews for the season opener had been mixed, but as episode two, three and four went out, there was a slow crisis building on set. The writers’ complacency had turned around to bite them. All of Oscar’s concerns about the scripts were being noticed by the fans: the circular storylines, the similarity of the episodes to previous seasons’. Overnight ratings were way down on last year. But, despite the grim looks of the producers, the atmosphere in Oscar’s trailer was one of absolute joy.
“Here’s to finishing in fourth place for our time slot!” Dean grinned, raising a cheeky beer that had been sat at the back of Oscar’s refrigerator for weeks. 
Oscar sat with him, pouring over the reviews and fan comments online. They laughed and began to speculate on how episode five would go down the following week.
“One beer and I’m feeling light headed!” Dean chuckled. “My personal trainers and nutritionist haven’t let me had one of these bad boys in ages!”
“Well, if things keep nose diving like this, you’ll be able to have as many beers as you like soon enough!” Oscar grinned. The possibility of the show getting cancelled had been all he had ever dreamed about for years. However, now he was celebrating that small hope with the one thing he had been lacking on set all that time: a friend.
In response to the damning reviews and lacklustre ratings, the writers had embarked on a mad flurry of rewrites. Each day, new pages were being delivered. Oscar laughed at the flaws in their panicked ideas; plot points that were being abandoned and others that directly contradicted things that had happened in previous seasons. Dean nodded along, pleased to know that it was all likely to go in their favour; although he openly admitted that he didn’t follow, or even understand much about the show and its storylines. “Apparently, this website says it’s 50/50 whether we get renewed next year,” Oscar reported, staring down at his cell phone during their break.
Dean stood up and helped himself to the beer he now kept in Oscar’s trailer, away from those who would scorn him for drinking it. “That’s still a fifty percent chance we’re going to be dragged back here next year,” he grumbled. “There’s got to be a way we can bring those odds more in our favour.
Oscar watched as Dean sat himself down sluggishly on the sofa, grabbing a cookie from the pack he had smuggled in that morning. His old image of Dean as the vain, egocentric jerk was slowly fading away. He’d come to see, just as Dean had always said, how similar the guy was to his character, Codey, on Bro Code. What would Codey do in a situation like this?
“Well, I do have one idea…” Oscar began, his heart racing surprisingly fast as the thought came into his mind. “You could always start… gaining a few pounds.”
Dean stared at him in surprise.
Oscar felt the need to justify himself. “I mean, you were planning on gaining weight anyway. But if the execs were on the fence about renewing us… a few extra pounds on the titular character’s body wouldn’t hurt.”
Dean’s eyebrows rose and he clearly pictured it in his mind. “Yeah,” he nodded; his smile getting wider and wider. “I think that could work.” He seemed to rub his stomach mindlessly. “It wouldn’t take much. My personal trainer has me so lean, just ten pounds would send everyone into a tailspin. It’d be obvious.” He sat up, like his mind was whirring into life: how he could do it, how fast it could be achieved. “This is an awesome idea!” he nodded. “Oscar, I think you’ve found the answer to all our problems!”
As far as Dean was concerned, the timing was absolutely perfect. Thanksgiving was coming up, and if that didn’t do it, the holidays certainly would. Mysterious boxes began arriving for Oscar’s trailer and he chuckled when he saw what was inside: fresh deliveries for a hungry guy, determined to lose his job. 
“...and a full can of condensed milk,” Dean boasted, listing off the ingredients for a calorie shake he had made himself the night before.
“And you actually drank all that?” Oscar asked, chuckling in amazement. 
“It was actually delicious!” Dean grinned. “There are loads of similar recipes online for guys trying to gain a few pounds. There’s so much information as well. If you really want it, you can blow up in no time.”
“And what does Jessica think of you downing these calorie shakes when you get home?”  Oscar asked, thinking about Dean’s girlfriend; now six months into their relationship.
“I haven’t told her about our plan,” Dean stated, sounding as if he believed it was none of her business. “She’ll see the results soon enough,” he chuckled, slapping his middle with excitement. “Then she can decide whether it’s something she’s willing to put up with or not. I’m not all that bothered, either way.” He reached across to the box of doughnuts sitting on the small table and took his fifth one that day, biting into it greedily; the largest bite Oscar had ever seen anyone take. He raised it up, like making a toast and mumbled with an almost full mouth, “I’ve got to hand it to you, Oscar,” he nodded. “This is the best fucking idea you’ve ever had!”
Production on the show took a break midway through December, just as it had done every year. Oscar was straight on the plane, heading back to the UK. Although he had managed to keep his unhappiness working on the show away from the public eye, his family all knew and sympathised with him; knowing of the struggles he had had. Now there really did feel like a reason to celebrate. With only four months of filming remaining, Oscar could really be about  to be home for good soon.
Dean’s smirk was written all over his face as he arrived at work that January. He’d been late and had rushed through make-up, so Oscar only saw him as he arrived on set, ready for their steamy sex scene that would open an episode, set to air at the end of February. Dean looked entirely refreshed from the break, dressed in his bath robes and strutting on to the bedroom set looking surprisingly pleased with himself.
“Did you have a nice break?” Oscar asked casually. Somehow, Dean’s smile seemed infectious and he felt his spirit lift, just being around the man. 
“Very good!” Dean nodded, almost knowingly. “I had the most fun I’ve ever had in my life,” he replied; before the director came over to the two of them to talk them through the scene. 
Dean seemed impatient to get going; only just resisting the urge to talk over the director as he impatiently bounced about, waiting to start shooting. Then the moment came. He pulled off his robe, revealing his built shoulders, letting the thick material fall to the ground. All of a sudden, the man was stood there, naked but for his boxer shorts; and the most terrible intake of breath was heard all over the set. All eyes were on Dean’s body. Over the break, a rounded little paunch had started to pop out under his muscular chest. It was meaty and his core remained undoubtedly strong, but it was packed tight and bloated-looking, spreading around to the side so that even from behind his gain was more than evident.
“What’s the matter?” Dean asked, knowing full well why nobody had moved an inch. His grin was one of complete pleasure at his own cleverness and he clapped his hands together, relishing every minute. “Let’s get this party started!”
Unsurprisingly, they were late to begin filming that day. Oscar wasn’t privy to the flurry of phone calls that were going on in the offices. Some pretty high up executives had just been given a very nasty headache on the first day back. Not that Oscar saw any of that. He’d been swept away to film his scenes for later on in the day, while Dean was clearly getting a grilling from someone. Not wanting to get behind on filming, it had been a rush to alter the schedule for the day, and Oscar already knew that he wouldn’t be getting home until very late that night. What on earth had Dean done? Oscar had suggested that he gained a few pounds to hide his six pack a little, but nothing like this! Dean had gone full-on beast-mode, growing a little pot belly in a matter of weeks! The image of it stuck in Oscar’s mind; a sight he would never forget; so bizarrely rounded and full on a man so athletic.
It wasn’t until the next day that Oscar saw Dean again. He’d heard rumours on set that their bloated superhero was to commence filming again that afternoon, but there had been no sign of him. However, there he was, sat on Oscar’s couch as he went back to his trailer for a twenty minute lunch break. His grin lit up the room as Oscar entered and he raised a cool beer up in the air, as if they were celebrating.
“Where the hell have you been?” Oscar blasted as soon as the door was closed.
“Crisis talks!” Dean laughed. “I’ve had so many people breathing down my neck for the last twenty-four hours, you wouldn’t believe it!” He lifted up his shirt to reveal his rounded stomach. “They pretty much painted on a six pack! Like that’s going to fool anyone! They made some clever changes to the costumes and have pretty much decided to hide my belly as much as possible. Apparently, they brought in some lady who’s a specialist at helping conceal pregnancies on screen. Can you believe that?!”
Oscar stared at the completely unconvincing six pack on Dean’s body. He felt a burning curiosity inside himself; like he wanted to ask Dean to remove his shirt entirely and let him explore all the changes properly. “I can’t believe you did this…” was all he could manage to string together.
“It’s insane, isn’t it?” Dean laughed, grabbing an actual wedge of fat on his middle and jiggling it. He reached out, grabbing Oscar’s arm and then slapping the hand down on his rounded middle.
“It’s actually soft!” Oscar shot straight away, trying to ignore the strange arousal he felt.
“It’s fat! That’s why!” Dean chuckled, releasing Oscar’s wrist. “Gain thirty pounds and this…” he pointed directly at his stomach “...is exactly what happens to you!”
“Thirty?” Oscar asked, unsure about whether he was surprised by that number or not. “I thought we said you’d gain ten pounds?”
“Once you start, it’s hard to stop!” Dean laughed at himself, slapping his little belly once more with pride. “This has been the best thing I have ever done. I finally feel like I’m starting to remember who I used to be. I was never into the whole super-ripped body thing. I just got sucked down this strange, narcissistic path because they all told me I’d never work again unless I became what they wanted.”
“What does Jessica think?” Oscar asked next.
“She flew back to Australia to be with her folks over the holidays. She gets back tomorrow. But, who cares?” Dean sighed, still looking pleased with himself. “It’s you I’ve been looking forward to showing. I’ve not told anyone, you know. Fattening me up is still our secret.”
Oscar didn’t know whether Dean meant it or not, but the whole situation suddenly felt a lot more intimate. When he saw Dean rubbing his stomach, it seemed like he was doing so only for him. They shared a look of mutual appreciation.
“We have to be careful from now on,” Oscar stated warningly. “If they get wind that we’re deliberately trying to sabotage the show, we’re in deep shit. You may be related to them, but I’d bet anything that they’d sue and try to take back the rights to ‘Bro Code’ from you. This little belly will have to be it for now. You can’t gain any more.”
Dean pulled a face. “I know you’re right, but I don’t want to stop.” He rubbed his stomach more now; like it comforted him to know his abs had been smothered with a protective layer of fat. “Now that I’ve started, I just want to keep going.”
“Please!” Oscar begged, his heart racing with panic. “We’ve got to slow this thing down. At least until we get official confirmation that the show is cancelled. Then I’ll happily stuff you full of doughnuts myself!” he joked, in an attempt to lighten the mood.
Dean’s eyebrows rose and a boyish smirk came to his face. “You promise?” he asked in an almost flirtatious manner.
A second attempt on the opening scene was being made that afternoon. A couple of changes were being made, whereby Oscar would be the one to walk in half-naked, instead of Dean, who would now be lying in bed, under the sheets. They’d talked it through at a rapid pace, trying to get back on track with the schedule. The sheets were to be draped over them, but the hands would roam and the focus would most likely be on the kissing. That was something new for the show and Oscar felt strangely nervous as he climbed into the bed as they began filming. 
In contrast, Dean seemed more relaxed than Oscar had ever seen him during these types of scenes. They’d shared many kisses over the four seasons, but to Oscar, this felt almost like the first time; the first time he was doing it when he actually felt something for the man he had mostly despised up until now. Dean’s large hand held the back of Oscar’s head, pulling him in. Their lips parted and embraced, exhaling passionately a moment later. Oscar could smell the sugary doughnuts on the guy’s breath and couldn’t help feeling excited that Dean had quietly indulged himself somewhere, even after the stark warnings he had tried his best to emphasise to him. He dove in, trying to use that passion for the character, and Dean came back to more than match it. Simultaneously, their lips parted and they both went deeper. They hadn’t discussed using tongues before shooting, but now that they were in the moment, it seemed entirely natural. Now Oscar could taste the sugar on Dean’s tongue and it was sending him into an abyss of lust. He should have stopped the scene as soon as he felt himself getting hard, but, against every one of his professional values, he’d let the scene continue. He felt Dean roll into him more and he winced when he felt their pelvises rub into each other. Then he felt it, and everything was suddenly okay. Dean was hard as well. Their eyes met, knowingly, and the scene rumbled on.
“Cut!” called the director after capturing the final shot. “Guys, that was absolutely amazing!”
“I thought you’d agreed to cool the weight gain for now?” Oscar asked a few weeks later, as Dean pulled out a beer from Oscar's trailer refrigerator.
Dean unpopped the lid and smirked. “I’ve still got to make sure I don’t lose any,” he replied cheekily. “The personal trainer they got for me has been absolutely brutal,” he complained, despite raising his arm and flexing the extraordinary size of his bicep. He finished with a satisfied round of patting on his little stomach, then sat himself down heavily, enjoying the taste of his beer. “Apparently they’re all on edge upstairs. They’re getting the phone call from the network on Friday, letting us know if we’re wrapping up for good this year.”
“That’s happening on Friday?” Oscar asked nervously. In previous years, they had known before the holidays about their renewal. However, back then it had been an easy call to make. This year, with falling viewing figures and declining quality, they’d left them stewing until there were only seven more weeks of filming remaining. He immediately picked up his cell phone and began texting. “My agent in the UK is almost as desperate as me to find out whether we’re cancelled or not.”
“Your agent in the UK?” Dean asked, as if this had been the last thing he had expected to hear. “You’re planning to do some work in the UK after we wrap?”
“I plan to move back completely after this job ends,” Oscar stated simply. “I don’t think I’m quite cut out for the US.”
“What ‘s wrong with the US?” Dean asked a little defensively.
“It’s been the worst time of my life working on this show,” Oscar explained. “Is it any surprise that I just want to get the hell out of here? Los Angeles is such a bizarre place, full of egos, expectations and narcissism. Then there’s the politics and the gun culture…” he sighed. “No, it’s definitely not for me.”
Dean looked red, like he had just been slapped across the face. He upturned his beer and drained it down his throat, stepping back up and announcing that he needed to get back on set.
Oscar had never assumed that Dean would be someone who was so patriotic. With their characters currently split up during some weird alien planet saga that had overtaken everything else during this season, they hadn’t been working together for a couple of days. However, Dean also hadn’t been over to see Oscar in his trailer as he usually did.
The news came that Friday morning, just as Oscar had been hoping. Everyone had been called onto set with glum faces, expecting the worst. Oscar’s look of disappointment was one of the best acting performances of his career. The show was cancelled, ending, kaput, dead! Freedom was coming! He no longer cared that Dean was sulking with him, strolling straight over to Dean’s trailer that afternoon. He knocked on the door, giving Dean the courtesy that he had never received, and waited until Dean came into view. Not a word was said as their eyes met. Dean simply acknowledged him and then nodded his head for Oscar to enter.
Oscar looked around the trailer to make sure no one else was there before he burst out in excitement. “I can’t believe it! Can you? We’re finally free of this shit show!”
Dean didn’t share any signs of excitement, but simply trotted over to the kitchenette to lean against the countertop and survey Oscar more carefully.
“Aren’t you excited?” Oscar asked. Surely whatever had upset him the other day paled into insignificance now?
“It’s the best news ever,” Dean replied, without a trace of enthusiasm in his voice.
“Well… you could tell your face…” Oscar mumbled, feeling Dean’s low mood starting to bring him down too. 
Silence followed. The pair stared at each other in a way that wouldn’t have been possible had they not grown so close over the last few months.
“I don’t want you to go back to the UK,” Dean finally stated. “I just kinda assumed that… with all the work we’ve been doing, plotting out the new show, you’d want to stick around and see it through with me.”
Oscar felt touched. The idea that Dean had been upset because of his departure had never occurred to him and he told him so.
“I’m going to be going through a lot of changes soon,” Dean went on, mindlessly rubbing his middle. “Big changes. And I kinda want someone there who I can trust. Someone I can work with to get back into character.”
“What are you suggesting?” Oscar asked. “Are you looking for someone to produce it with you? Because… I’m not so sure I’ve got the skills for that sort of thing.”
“Are you kidding?” Dean chuckled. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. Our best ideas for the rebooted show have come straight out of that strange and marvellous head of yours!” He seemed to be thinking on his feet, giving the impression that there was a rush of words trying to gush their way out of his mouth. “All you have to do is glance at one of the scripts for this show and you know exactly what’s wrong with them. Everything that went downhill this season, you called it straight away: every plot flaw, every continuity error, every lame attempt at melodrama, you saw it first. You’re just… incredible! Of course I want you to produce the show alongside me.”
Oscar could feel himself blushing. He’d never particularly enjoyed receiving compliments and he squirmed under Dean’s praise.
“I watched one of the interviews you did a couple of years ago. In fact, I watched almost all of them that I could still find online. You said that you found it easy to pretend that you’re in love with me for the show because you pictured Codey from Bro Code when you perform. You said that you compare every other man you meet to Codey and they always come up short. Is that true?” Dean asked.
It was the second time that Oscar had been stunned that day. The thought of Dean spending his time studying past interviews he had done seemed almost surreal. He tried to shrug off the embarrassment and retreated, promising Dean that he would consider the incredible offer he had just made.
Things lightened between Dean and Oscar after that. With only four episodes left to shoot, an incredible barrage of rewrites were being thrust upon them to bring the show to a climactic finale. The fanbase had been outraged at the cancellation and the inevitable petitions to save the show were already underway.
“Hey, go easy!” Oscar chuckled, pulling a box of doughnuts away from Dean as he slobbed out in his trailer. “We’re not finished with the show just yet. You’re going to give the costume department even more of a headache if you carry on like this!”
Dean laughed and pulled the box back towards him. “Fuck it!” he cheered. “I’ve already told them I’m not doing any more shirtless scenes.” He pulled up the bottom of his t-shirt and flapped it over so that his belly button was on show. His stomach looked bloated; either from the six doughnuts he had just eaten, or from the longer term impact of his new, more relaxed diet. Nevertheless, Dean stared down at his small tummy as if it was the thing he was most proud of in the entire world. “I’m only taking on fat boy parts from now on.”
Oscar chuckled, revelling in Dean’s hedonistic attitude; so much different to the Dean he had known before. Dean smiled too, rubbing his little stomach and moaning as he took another huge, greedy bite of a fresh doughnut; all in aid of making Oscar laugh even more. “You’re so bad!” Oscar teased him. “If only your fans could see you now…”
“Yeah!” Dean agreed, raising his eyebrows mischievously and pushing in the largest piece of doughnut yet; struggling to chew it all and making them both laugh like a pair of giggling teenage girls.
“Does this mean that you’re going to start up those calorie shakes again?” Oscar asked, strangely enthralled by the idea. Dean simply looked down guiltily and smirked. “You mean, you already have started doing the calorie shakes again?” Oscar gasped, laughing even more. Dean’s self-satisfied grin was enough to make Oscar’s heart flutter to the extreme. How he loved this side of his co-star!
“I just want to get fat, man!” Dean stated, rubbing his stomach with the gentlest and most delicate of touches. “Do you think that’s weird?”
“No,” Oscar replied immediately. “It’s been your goal for years to bring back Codey. You’re looking ahead. Of course you want to change your body for the character.”
“Yeah,” Dean shrugged. “It’s not just about that.” Despite slouching on the couch, there seemed to be an energy behind his eyes; a devilish twinkle and mischief that was so easy to fall in love with. “I just want to grow a big, fat belly on me.” He modelled with his hands the shape of an enormous ball sitting almost into his lap. “I tried telling my girlfriend once and she was horrified. She said it would be such a shame if I did that to myself. In the end , I backtracked and told her I was joking. But I wasn’t.” He looked Oscar square in the face. “I want to get fat,” he finally announced.
Oscar knew that he was supposed to say something at that point, but no words came to him. The least attractive quality of Dean had always been that vain ego of his. And now, even that was being stripped away from him. He was funny and playful, laidback and yet headstrong. He knew himself better than anyone else Oscar had ever met.
“Do you think it’s a shame too?” Dean asked. “The fact that I want to just eat and pack blubber onto my body?” His tone was strange. As if, just saying this aloud was somehow erotic for him.
Oscar simply shook his head and stared longingly into Dean’s eyes. He realised now that he had known for some time that there had been more to Dean’s fascination with his weight gain than was immediately apparent. And, even stranger, he found that he was falling even more in love with Dean because of it.
“I think you understand me better than anyone else in the entire world,” Dean muttered, seeming to sense that connection himself. “You’re going to produce the show with me, aren’t you?” he asked, as if he knew that the pair of them should never part.
Slowly, Oscar nodded.
It was a beautiful moment, but not one that could be cherished for long. Only a few seconds after the words had been said, there was a vigorous thumping on the trailer door, calling Dean back onto set. He grumbled, lifting his body up and wiping around his mouth and checking his handsome face in the mirror. He smiled back at Oscar with genuine affection, opened the door and was gone.
As Dean and Oscar poured over more story ideas and mapped out their pitches to the networks, they laughed harder and longer than ever before. No network could ever turn them down. Things could be less secretive now as well. Dean could start getting in touch with other members of the cast to see if they were interested in reprising their roles. It wasn’t just something to talk about anymore. All going well, they could be gearing up for production as early as fall. But there was also another, silent, unspoken aspect to these meetings. As Oscar went over on the weekend to Dean’s house, he noted that there was always food cooking or being consumed by Dean. He tried not to stare as Dean got up again and again to get more food, chewing, nodding and grunting in agreement as Oscar carried on sharing his ideas. In fact, the more Dean ate, the more ideas he seemed to generate about his character’s love of food: episodes centred around eating contests, recipes and his chef wife, who they both decided would have something of a feeder streak within her. It was old-school, recording a sitcom in front of a live audience, but that was part of where the buzz and energy of Bro Code had always come from.
“You could eat ten double hamburgers on stage, right?” Oscar asked, as the plot for one of the stories started entering his head.
Dean laughed and rubbed his stomach. “Even if I can’t, I’ll definitely have a lot of fun trying!” he smiled.
Oscar smiled back, gazing at that handsome face; even more beautiful with a little extra size in Dean’s cheeks. “All the shakes and food seem to be working,” he offered kindly, happy to go off-task for just a few moments. “You’re definitely looking a little huskier.”
The smile that spread over Dean’s face was instantaneous. He sat back in his chair and slouched until the arch of a little paunch was on show. Then, pumped from the compliment, Dean lifted off his shirt entirely so that he could show it off better. “It’s coming,” he agreed enthusiastically. “The girlfriend hates it of course,” he chuckled conspiratorially. “She thinks I’m just depressed because the show is ending!”
Oscar laughed too and shook his head, thinking how little Dean’s girlfriend actually knew him.
“I just can’t wait for it to be a real gut. You know, when it pops out properly,” Dean went on. “I’m loving the sensation of my clothes getting a little tighter though. Just that feeling alone makes me want to come down to the kitchen and drink whole pints of whipping cream!”
“And do you?” Oscar asked, intrigued.
Dean simply smirked and grabbed a little wedge of fat that was starting to form a love handle on his muscular frame. “What do you think?” he replied cheekily.
Dean didn’t put his shirt back on afterwards as the two of them continued to work. It should have been easy for Oscar to concentrate; after all, Dean had been practically naked for most of the first season. However, now his body seemed almost hypnotic, luring him in with the bloated stomach from all that he had eaten that day, as well as the extra pounds that had gathered through weeks of hedonistic indulgence.
Oscar had stayed a lot longer than he had anticipated and it was only when Dean’s cell phone alarm went off that he even thought to check the time. “Oh,” Dean mumbled, clearly shocked by how fast the hours had gone by. “That’s my calorie shake alarm.”
“You have an alarm to tell you when to have a calorie shake?” Oscar chuckled, feeling intrigued enough to follow Dean into the kitchen.
“Of course I do,” Dean nodded, starting to get items out of the refrigerator and setting up the blender on the counter. “Otherwise I get too engrossed in stuff and lose track of time. I used to do the same thing with protein shakes but… these are definitely not protein shakes!” he laughed.
“What things are you putting in this shake?” Oscar asked, picking up a tub of whipping cream and staring hard at the nutritional information on the back. No wonder Dean was starting to look so large!
That wicked twinkle came to Dean’s eyes again and he was quiet for a moment, simply considering something. “I think you should make it for me tonight,” he finally stated. “Come on, it’s easy! I’ve already got everything out. Just pick some things and throw them in!”
Oscar liked the playfulness of Dean and he was more than happy to go along. It felt teasing and arousing; almost romantic. “All right…” he began, pulling the lid off the whipping cream and starting to pour. He watched Dean’s eyes closely for any sign of when he should stop, but the longer he let the thick cream drop in, the wider and more devilish Dean’s grin became. Next he picked up some oil and slopped that in, not wanting the jug to overflow before he had put in a bit of everything Dean had got out. It almost felt like he was making a potion, pouring in one bizarre ingredient after another, in the hopes of pleasing Dean.
“You’re very good at this…” Dean whispered into his ear as the concoction got closer to the brim. He thought he’d finished when he felt Dean’s large hand grab his own from behind, guiding him to pour in just a little more chocolate powder. “That’s better,” Dean continued whispering, almost seductively. “Maybe add a little more of that ice cream too; really make my gut pop!” His large body was so close behind him, Oscar could smell his scent and feel the heat of Dean’s presence pumping out of him.
Oscar, more aroused by Dean than ever before, added the extra scoop and then put the lid on, blending the mixture up. It was thicker than he had anticipated, turning a thick, oozing brown thanks to all of the chocolate powder and sauce. He waited until the blending appeared to be completed, then pulled the lid back off, turned and presented the jug to Dean, who stood staggeringly close, waiting. He took the jug, biting his bottom lip with excitement and then lifted it to his lips. The man began chugging with a ferocity Oscar hardly thought possible. He stood in awe, watching as Dean’s already bloated tummy swelled further and further, inching its way closer and closer to him. But Dean didn’t even stop for breath. He didn’t pause or slow down; only swallowed, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Oscar had expected Dean to split the jug of calorie shake over a couple of days, given how much liquid had been in there. Yet, there the man was, throwing his head back entirely and swallowing the thickest and most sickly dregs that remained. Then, with a manly gasp of personal satisfaction, Dean lowered the empty jug into Oscar’s hands again, partially covering his mouth as he turned his head slightly and burped, long and rumbling through his thick neck. He turned back, looking at Oscar with great satisfaction, waiting for him to comment on what he had just witnessed.
“That was…” Oscar tried, simply lost for words. “I’ve never seen anyone…” Dean’s stare was so penetrating and exposing, Oscar looked down to the guy’s beefy middle instead. “You actually look like you have a real belly right now…”
Dean picked up the empty jug from Oscar’s hands and placed it on the counter behind him, removing the final barrier in their way. “Well, that belly is going to be here a lot sooner after that shake,” Dean whispered in that still seductive and erotic tone.
“I’m pleased that I could help…” Oscar whispered back, daring to look up into Dean’s eyes once more. 
What came next seemed completely natural. Despite how often they had kissed on screen, when their lips met this time, it truly was for the first time. Dean kissed so delicately, and yet with more passion than Oscar could ever have anticipated. For those brief few moments, he was lost to the world completely. Nothing else mattered, or ever would matter again. But then Dean jumped back, startled by something; a sound that had hardly even registered in Oscar’s brain, and he scrambled around for his shirt, quickly swiping the remaining cartons from the shake-making into the sink with a single swish of Dean’s long, powerful arm. 
“Hey, honey!” Dean shot, scratching the back of his head innocently and not knowing quite what to do with himself as his girlfriend strolled in. “We were just…” he began, in the way all guilty men tried to explain themselves. “We were preparing our pitch to the network,” he finished, looking mightily glad that she had made a noise loud enough to alert him before she walked in and saw the kiss. 
Oscar made his excuses and left; now feeling more confused than ever before.
“Good morning!” Dean chirped as Oscar stumbled into make-up that Monday morning, ready to film the penultimate episode. “Did you have a nice weekend?”
“Um…” Oscar began, still not quite awake; having been up half the night going over and over Sunday’s events in his head; second guessing things and almost convincing himself that he had initiated an unwanted kiss, and that Dean would never want to speak to him again. ”I guess so,” he mumbled, very aware of the others in the room, fussing over Dean and starting to get to work on him too. “How about you?” he asked, so as not to appear rude to his co-star in front of the make-up team.
“I broke up with Jessica,” Dean stated frankly, creating a collective intake of breath from the others in the room, who all gushed over Dean like he was a three year old boy who had just fallen over onto rough concrete. “Nah, I’m fine. I’m fine,” Dean countered, brushing the concern away. “I just decided enough was enough. We weren’t right for each other.”
Dean stared at Oscar through the reflection in the mirror, letting him know that he had broken up with Jessica purely for him. He gave Oscar a cheeky grin, making the skin on Oscar’s palms start to sweat. Were they really about to do this? Was he really about to embark on a romance with Dean of all people?
Oscar felt a large hand sliding onto his hip as he stood just to the back of one of the set pieces, reading through the scene one more time. “Why, hello there…” whispered the deep, flirtatious voice of Dean. His sweet, warm breath fell onto Oscar’s neck and he kissed him sweetly there, sweeping his hands onto Oscar’s torso and embracing him from behind. “I haven’t stopped thinking about last night…”
Oscar closed his eyes for a second and allowed himself to enjoy the sensation of Dean holding him so tightly in his large arms. He turned and looked up into the man’s eyes, quite taken aback with how much they sparkled with adoration for him. “I was worried that you might have been regretting it,” he confessed. 
“Not a chance!” Dean gushed, using his large hands to brush Oscar’s hair out of his face. “I wanted to call you last night but things were pretty… intense, with Jessica.” All the while he gazed into Oscar’s eyes, then sighed in satisfaction. “I want to kiss you again…” he insisted.
A shy smile filled Oscar’s face and he looked around their dark corner. “Someone will spot us!” he cautioned, laughing.
“So what?” Dean chuckled. “I want them to know. I want to shout it from the rooftops!” However, he could see the caution in Oscar’s eyes and he politely backed off. “Meet me in my trailer later then,” he whispered, skipping away like a lovesick puppy.
Later that day, Dean was sat in his trailer, smiling broadly as Oscar entered. A huge tray of doughnuts was now half gone, laid out on the table in front of him, with another one half eaten in his hand. He grunted in approval as Oscar entered, pushing the remaining half doughnut into his mouth and using his now free hands to reach out for Oscar, pulling him to stand above his lap as he outstretched his big strong thighs. 
Oscar chuckled seeing that, despite his eagerness, Dean needed a few more seconds to finish chewing and swallowing before he could even think about kissing. A little of the icing sat to the corners of Dean’s mouth and Oscar swiped them up with his index finger, offering it up to Dean who gladly sucked on it. “Did I catch you at a bad time?” he teased.
“There’s no such thing as a bad time when you’re around!” Dean gushed, puckering his lips and lifting himself up enough to kiss Oscar with incredible passion. 
The movement almost caught the perching Oscar off balance and his hand fell onto Dean’s stomach to steady himself. Dean moaned in appreciation, grabbing Oscar’s hand and taking it on a tour of his bloated middle as they continued to kiss. It felt so pleasingly erotic, enjoying Dean in a way that he knew no one else ever had before. Their own, private secret between them both.
“I gained two pounds this weekend,” Dean muttered not long after their lips parted. “I think the little shake you made me really did the trick,” he teased.
“I guess I must have the magic touch,” Oscar smiled, playing along and continuing to rub Dean’s bloated stomach.
Dean’s eyes were wild with lust. “You’ll have to make me some more shakes sometime… Really speed up this gut!”
Oscar grinned, feeling somehow empowered by how mutually aroused this was making them both. “Oh, don’t you worry. I will be,” he teased. The very air around them felt like it was sparking with electricity. “In fact…” he began, reaching back to the table to pick up a doughnut and hearing Dean’s breathing getting instantly heavier with lust, “...maybe we could test out this magic touch of mine right now…”
“Oh, please, yes!” Dean moaned, with greedy eyes on the doughnut and his enormous chest raising up and down. “Feed it to me, please!” he begged.
His hands down, submissively on his lap, Dean allowed the doughnut to enter his mouth, moaning with appreciation at how deep it was pushed. He bit into it like it was the most erotic moment of his life. One doughnut followed another, only stopping when the inevitable calls began for them to get back to work.
“Look at this!” Dean grinned, turning his cell phone screen to face Oscar a few days later. “Apparently we’re an item!”
Oscar’s eyes flashed with surprise as he saw the online article featuring a picture of the pair of them from a red carpet event two years before. It seemed to describe, surprisingly well, how the pair of them had been spending more time together as well as the quiet affection they showed each other on set. “There are bloody spies everywhere!” he quietly complained. “I guess we weren’t as subtle as we thought,” he whispered, looking around the set and the prying eyes watching them both. He hated articles like these where there was a glimmer of truth to them. He and Dean had not even been properly intimate with each other and yet, already the world was being told about them. The schedule had been gruelling and the days physically exhausting. The only light at the end of the tunnel was the knowledge that it would soon be over. Not long now and the pair of them would be free to explore their new relationship freely. 
It had been hard though; seriously hard! Despite Dean’s epic height and build, the fat he had been gaining was becoming increasingly obvious. He’d lost his ‘golden boy’ status with most of the production crew, as it just became clear that he had completely signed out of this job. His main costume had been altered several times now and the creative cover ups for his budding belly were becoming increasingly hard to achieve. Oscar knew why; Dean was so focused on ‘Bro Code’ and building his body up, he didn’t care that he was making extra work for everyone else. It probably didn’t even occur to him. In his eyes, he’d sacrificed too much time for this show, and he wasn’t about to waste another second. It was part of what he found so irresistibly sexy about him; his drive to now do whatever he wanted, no matter the consequences, or what people thought of him.
After the article, the two guys decided to try and keep things quieter. The last thing they needed was a flood of interest in the show and a last-minute rescue from cancellation. They’d denied the romance to their publicists and quit being seen together so much on set. It was even a little fun, ordering doughnuts and cakes to be sent to Dean’s trailer, then waiting for the inevitable horny messages from the man to come in as he gorged on them during his break.
There were tears on set during the final day, but not from Dean or Oscar; at least, not genuine ones. They made their speeches, filmed the last scenes and participated in the wrap party. But, as Oscar made it home that night, he wasn’t thinking about the fact that he was now unemployed. Setting his alarm for 6am, he knew tomorrow was going to be the biggest day of his life so far.
It would have been hard to describe to anyone else just how intimate food was in Oscar and Dean’s relationship. Oscar knew that in order to make his first time with Dean special, there would need to be lots of it. It would all need to be enticing, indulgent and highly fattening. There wouldn’t be time for any actual work or script writing today. The experience of waiting had left Dean and Oscar feeling like a pair of tightly wound springs, ready to be released. By the time Dean pulled up at nine, everything was prepared. The kitchen counter was loaded with snacks, and the house had a delicious aroma from the fresh baking. Oscar could feel the butterflies in his stomach as Dean strutted out of his car, carrying a fresh coffee in his hand; his t-shirt clinging surprisingly snugly against his now sizeable paunch which had been grabbing the attention of the hungry press for the last couple of months. He’d parked, as instructed, in a spot where his car would not be seen from the road; then a cheesy grin flashed across his face as he noticed Oscar in the window. 
Once the door was closed, the boys’ intimate kiss progressed very quickly from being sweet and delicate, to something a lot more lust-filled and hungry. Oscar took Dean’s hand and led him to the kitchen to show off just how much he had prepared for their day together, feeling his pulse pounding all the way down in his crotch.
“I can’t believe you set all this up!” Dean marvelled, seeing all the food out. He nodded towards the counter, seeing the exact same ingredients he used for his calorie shake, already set out, with one shake prepared and still in the blender. “YOU are just the most amazing person I have ever met!” Dean gushed, pulling Oscar back in for another kiss.
Oscar felt himself being pushed up against the refrigerator by the wildly aroused man, their kisses getting deeper and deeper. Dean only paused for a moment, lifting his shirt off and patting his stomach before diving back in again.
As difficult as it was to stop, Oscar eventually managed to tear himself away, catching his breath and trying to resist the urge to just run upstairs to bed with the sexiest man he had ever encountered. But, he’d worked hard to prepare for the day and he knew that just a little more patience would be needed in order to make the most of it. “So… what shall I feed you first?” he asked. “Your superhero days are done. There’s no point in even trying to hold that belly back now.”
Dean’s eyes were insane with lust. He picked up the blender jug and began pouring that fattening mixture down his throat. Oscar could feel his hardness weeping as he watched Dean’s head rise up as the jug slowly emptied, and he admired that strong, thick neck as he gulped and chugged with nothing but the urge to show off for him. When done, he grinned, burped and rubbed his already bloated stomach. “Where do you want me?” he asked, finally ready to be sat down and fed.
Oscar was amazed at his own restraint. He glanced at his cell phone, seeing it was now almost four in the afternoon. Dean had been grazing all day and eaten an absolutely enormous lunch. His gut looked so distended, the difference from when he first arrived was completely remarkable. They’d come close to giving in to their urges many times. During Dean’s fourth calorie shake, Dean had almost lost it entirely as Oscar began to suck him off at the same time. Somehow, they both seemed to know that the longer they waited and the more calories Dean could get down, the better the final climax would be.
“I’m never going home. You know that, right?” Dean joked as he was spoon fed ice cream after dinner. He had a hand resting on his rounded middle and hadn’t been able to stop rubbing it all day long, amazed at the shape it was taking on. “I’m just going to stay here and keep getting fatter and fatter every single day!”
“You’re just so incredibly greedy!” Oscar sighed with lust, watching as Dean bit into yet another double stacked slice of now cold pizza; a monstrously large and masculine bite. It was hard to believe that any man could still be able to consume anything after all that Dean had been fed that day.
Dean seemed to revel in the word, smiling with delight, his eyes dancing with mischief and joy as he ripped off more pizza, chewed and finally pushed the crusts into his mouth before slurping a large quantity of chocolate milk, as if trying to lubricate his throat. “I’m going to get greedier as well. I’ve been looking into it; how to train myself how to eat more. In six months time, all this will be nothing to me,” he boasted, motioning towards the many empty plates and packaging that littered the table in front of them.
“I’m looking forward to it…” Oscar nodded enthisiastically, knowing that he could no longer hold back. Seeing Dean’s dick flex and bulge with such hardness as he talked about training his appetite was the final straw. Rubbing in a little lubricant, he climbed onto Dean’s lap as the man slouched a little more, ready for what was coming and holding three stacked pizza slices in his hand as the final show of gluttony. Oscar only winced slightly as he slowly lowered himself onto Dean’s oversized hardness. He could tell by the way that the man’s eyes glazed over and his chin dropped, emphasising the slight spead of fat under there, that Dean had no restraint left in him either. He gasped, grasping Oscar’s dick in his large hand, before pushing that pizza in with only mindless greed.
Oscar’s eyes bulged. Dean’s sweaty palm was going to make him come too as he slid his butt up and down the big man’s shaft. They both started to maon as they felt it building, gazing into each other’s eyes as if baring their very souls to each other. Then it happened: the longest, most intense and explosive orgasms of their lives. It had been a long journey to get where they were now, yet both of them now knew that there would never be anyone else by their side from now on. Every step into the future would be taken together.
It was not easy being away from Dean, but the play in London had been the least that Oscar felt that he could do for his London-based agent, who had worked so hard to get him work back in the UK. Breaking the news that he wasn’t quite finished with the US just yet had not gone down terribly well, which was partly why he had been guilted into the six week stint in the West End. But, it had been so long since he’d done a real play, Oscar had almost forgotten the thrill of performing to a live audience: the laughs, the gasps, the applause. He could understand why Dean had argued so much to continue filming Bro Code in front of a live studio audience. There was no buzz that was quite like it. Yet, as he slipped back into his dressing room after finishing the second week, he sighed in longing for Dean and looked at the clock on the wall. It was still half an hour until their planned video catch-up call; just enough time for him to take off the make-up, slip out of the back entrance of the theatre and take the taxi to the soulless, one-bedroom apartment he was renting in Battersea. 
Just then, there was a knock at the dressing room door. Oscar felt inclined to ignore it as he hurried to get ready to leave. However, the second knock was louder, more forceful and impatient, making Oscar roll his eyes and finally open up. 
“Well, hello there!” Dean grinned smugly, taking in the joy that instantly spread across Oscar’s face. “Did you miss me?”
Oscar fell into Dean’s enormous chest and the pair began kissing passionately as they fell back into the room; sweeping the door closed behind them. “What are you doing here?” Oscar asked, still overcome with shock.
“I came to see you, of course,” Dean smirked, already taking his shirt off. “The play was awesome. You were amazing! Just incredible. You so deserve all of those rave reviews!” he gushed.
Oscar barely heard a word of what was said, so captivated was he by the changes since he left almost a month ago. Dean’s belly had been swelling so much. It now seemed so round and firm, overindulged and packed as it was so frequently now. But the fat was also building now in his pecs and his love handles bulged incredibly, giving a new wider mass to Dean’s middle that overwhelmed even the broadness of his chest. It was a belly; a true, fat belly!
Sensing that Oscar was overcome by the sight of him, Dean grabbed Oscar’s hand and placed it on the top of his gut, where it was starting to bulge and become shelf-like. “Oh, yeah. And I may have gained a few pounds since you left…”
“You look…” Oscar began in awe.
“Go on!” Dean smiled, clearly getting more aroused. “Tell me how fucking fat I’m getting!” he demanded excitedly, slapping his gut and grabbing a wedge to jiggle; demonstrating that it wasn’t anywhere near as firm as it looked.
“You look like a complete… lardarse,” Oscar smiled knowingly.
“Oh, fuck!” Dean moaned; his dick instantly smashing against the fabric of his pants. There clearly couldn't have been a better word that Oscar could have chosen to get the man so overtaken by lust. They fell into each other; Oscar’s hands roaming and exploring the changes as they kissed; grabbing and holding the fresh fat that had been packed on. It was a transformation like nothing he had ever witnessed before. That old hunk was gone forever. Oscar was, at long last, dating a real fat guy.
“I hope you packed your appetite?” Oscar smiled as they finally made it out of the theatre. “You haven’t been truly fed until you’ve experienced a proper London stuffing…”
It was incredible the difference a couple of years could make. Gone were the days of Oscar having to promote himself on any old talk show. Now he could pick and choose, knowing that his appearance was a boon to whichever show he had signed up for. His ongoing television and movie work, alongside his association with ‘Bro Code’ and its lead actor, had opened doors for him that he didn’t know even existed. Nostalgia was a powerful thing. Rebooting a show that had once been so successful, bringing it back even stronger than before; churning out outstanding content week after week; it had all led to multiple season orders and awards aplenty. Right now, he and Dean were working on two new pilot projects and had multiple ideas for spin-offs related to the original show. 
“So, Season three starts next week and we are all just so pumped!” the chat show presenter lamented, igniting a cheer from his audience. “Is there anything you can tell us about what’s coming up?”
“I’m afraid you’re just going to have to tune in and find out,” Oscar smiled back.
“Well, there is one thing we do know…” the presenter nodded to his audience, trying to make it sound like this entire conversation hadn’t all been roughly scripted beforehand. “It was announced a couple of weeks ago that you’re actually going to have your own character on the show.” At that, a promotional shot of Oscar in character arrived on the big screen behind them both and the audience cheered and clapped excitedly.
Oscar nodded, waiting for the overworked crowd to quieten a little before he spoke. “Dean and I came up with this character sometime around the middle of the first season and we just laughed our heads off everytime he came up in conversation. I could just picture him in my head so clearly, his voice, how he would walk. Dean spent about a year trying to convince me to play the character myself, until I finally relented. I think you’re all going to love him!”
“Speaking of Dean…” the presenter moved on coyly. “I know that fans of The Silence were freaking out when it was announced that you two were actually together in real life, but now it seems that the pair of you are fast becoming the new power couple of Holywood. Which, forgive me for saying this,” he smiled as a picture of Dean came up on the screen behind him, “somehow seems incredibly unlikely!”
His meaning was clear by the choice of picture up on show. There was Dean, in character, shirtless and gorging on a large bowl of ice cream that his sexy and hilarious on-screen feeder wife had just served to him. Oscar sighed in satisfaction. It was an image from the beginning of season two, and Dean was now a lot fatter than even that. “Awh! Isn’t he adorable!” Oscar smiled, making the audience laugh.
“His dedication to the role is outstanding!” the presenter went on. “There’s no way I would gain two hundred pounds for a role like he has.”
Just as expected, a shot of a shirtless and pumped Dean from ‘The Silence’ popped up side by side with another image of him, standing with his new, large and rounded belly at over four hundred pounds. But it wasn’t just the large stomach that was the biggest difference; the fat around his face had made him appear like someone almost completely different, and Dean had been surprisingly joyous as his incredible pecs melted into giant, jiggly moobs. The definition in his arms was gone, but its legacy was apparent in how well he piled fat in those area; making him look even more monstrous than before. His thighs too, once so muscular, had now been coated with a thick layer of fat, giving him an even wider stance as he stood and posed for the shot. Oscar could only gaze at the screen for a brief second before he felt the blood pumping into his groin.
“Don’t you miss the hot guy on the left?” the presenter asked, pointing to the before picture of Dean.
“Not at all!” Oscar laughed. “That guy on the left was an arsehole! I’ve spoken about this before, but the first three years of working on The Silence were awful. I hated him!” he smiled, making the audience laugh at the irony. “He was just trying to be someone he’s not,” Oscar pointed at the screen. “Now he’s much more comfortable in himself as a big guy.”
“Well, it doesn’t seem to have harmed his career at all. If Holywood needs a… larger gentleman,” he tried senstitively, emitting titters from the crowds, “Dean seems to be on everyone’s speed dial. I’ve lost count of how many movies I’ve seen him in in the last couple years!”
“He’s a very busy boy!” Oscar nodded proudly, seeing that the production crew were signalling to wrap things up for a commercial break. Just in time as well; there was only so long that Oscar could discuss Dean’s incredible growth without flushing a bright red with arousal.
Back at home that evening, Oscar only had a short wait for his lover to return; just enough time to prepare his calorie shake and leave the ice cream out to soften.
“I’m home!” the big man called as he strolled in, immediately removing his shirt and unbuckling his pants, letting his large, open belt swing at the crotch as he pounded into the kitchen.
“Mmm! There’s my beautiful fat boy!” Oscar grinned, heading over to Dean to greet him. “I can see you’ve eaten well today,” he smiled, rubbing his hand across the man’s large stomach and feeling that it was tight. In contrast to what many might have thought, movie sets were a surprisingly awesome place to fatten up, considering the constant on-site catering that was available.
“I gorged like a little piggy all day long, just for you…” he teased, kissing his lover once more. “Is my shake ready?” Dean asked; his excited boner already pushing up against the fat that had invaded his crotch.
“What do you think?” Oscar smiled back, proud that Dean was still so keen to pump himself up with fat and calories. He watched on as the fat man strolled ahead to the counter; the fat rippling and jiggling in his love handles and the altogether new way he was walking with such a wide rear on him now. Then the four hundred and forty pound guy lifted that shake to his lips and began the chug; his free hand unable to resist the temptation of rubbing the soft fat of his underbelly, grabbing and jiggling it for his own pleasure. Then he put the empty jug down, burped loudly, before taking the second one to his lips and annihilating that too. “What’s for dinner?” he asked, grabbing the spoon and open carton of ice cream to begin that next.
“Grilled chicken salad,” Oscar lied jokingly, making Dean laugh. They’d plotted a storyline for the end of season three where Dean would have to be visibly fatter in order for it to work, igniting their shared passion for overindulging Dean more than ever. Whole new realms of obesity and gluttony. Five hundred pounds had seemed like a fantasy for so long. Now it felt like it was just around the corner. “No, don’t worry, Fatso…” he smiled, walking over to side-hug the big man and appreciate just how wide and thick he was still getting, “...you won’t be disappointed!”
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kedreeva · 1 year
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Honestly, I don't think Steve even noticed what he did or didn't feel or what he was or was not actually lacking in his parents until post-Nancy. He's exactly the sort of person who doesn't think about something unless he has to. I'm NOT saying he's stupid, just that literally he does not think about things he thinks aren't worth thinking about, and I genuinely do not think he thinks his parents are worth thinking about unless it's to plan around them.
"My dad's a grade-A asshole" and Steve worrying about getting in trouble if his dad finds out what he's done is in direct opposition to his willingness to do the thing in the first place, if he thinks about his father beforehand. "My parents are not home" and "my parents are somewhere else" are separate thoughts, and what matters to the plans Steve wants to make is the latter, and I'm not entirely sure he recognizes the former as a problem. His parents not being home is the solution to 'my dad's an asshole.' His parents not being home is a point in his favor, not a problem
And honestly, why would it be a problem then? Season 1 Steve has parents he prefers to be absent, and friends that are quicker to sneer and bite than they are to smile. Season 1 Steve, prior to getting sense literally knocked into him, is concerned about getting in trouble rather than worrying about his gf having just lost her best friend. Season 1 Steve takes one look at Jonathan in Nancy's room and his first reaction isn't to worry about Nancy's well-being, not yet. His first reaction is to rile up his sharp-teethed friends and go be destructive. Before Nancy scolds him and Jonathan hits him and an entire fucking monster drops through the ceiling and tears his paradigm of the world apart, I don't think it really occurred to Steve that things should (or even could) be different. Parents are just like that, right? Everyone's parents and family and friends are just like that. Right?
Except, then he's seeing what Jonathan and Nancy will do for Jonathan's little brother, how all the kids stick together and fight for each other. What Joyce will do for her son, what Hopper will do for her kids, for the small, strange girl they're saying has superpowers. The way Dustin's mom loves him, even if she's a little oblivious. How even the parents who know nothing, like the Sinclairs and the Wheelers, actually do love their kids; it's not a show. They're not in the news, they have no reputation to keep up, there's no one to impress. They just genuinely love their children. This friend group genuinely cares about each other. even when they are at odds with each other, they care. Absolutely mindblowing to the kid who couldn't get his family or friends to give a shit about anything, including him.
And I think he gets a bigger inkling about it all at the start of season 2, when he gets more involved in the whole group, but I think the moment he realizes he's got to protect Max from her family that it really clicks about his own family. She's scared about what her brother will do, and Steve remembers being scared about what his father would do. And it's one thing to kind of Know that your parents are not good, and be in the middle of coping with it, but it's another to see that reflected in someone else and realize oh.
And I think that's.... I think that directly leads to what's going on with Steve in season 3. He mentions his dad wanting to teach him a lesson and we can assume it's about Having A Job and Work Ethic etc, and maybe it is, but I think no small part of it is also that Steve got more defensive toward his parents about them being bad parents. I think instead of just being mad that he wasn't gonna get his way with them like in S1, or cranky they were gonna punish him for doing Teenage Stuff he thinks he should get away with, that he was actually a little hurt that his parents were more like Max's family than like Dustin's or Will's or even Lucas or Mike's. And I can imagine his dad reacting the way Entitled Parents act when their kid figures them out, and saying well if we're so terrible how about you experience what it is like without us, so you can see how much you owe us for everything we do for you.
and he ends up at Scoops Ahoy, because his dad is trying to teach him a lesson, but it's NOT a lesson about work ethic, it's a lesson about how to be grateful for the things his parents give him, as if taking care of their child was a favor that Steve now needs to pay back.
Except the lesson he learns is that he can pick his family. The lesson he learns is that his family sucks. And yeah, the lesson he learns is that he hates the way things have gone, he hates the big empty house, he hates the distance his parents put between them (while simultaneously being grateful for it because he doesn't want to be close to THEM, he wants to be close to better parents). And his reaction to that isn't to want better things with his family. Maybe if he was someone else, but this is the boy who doesn't think about things that aren't worth thinking about, and it's not worth thinking about something that will never happen. His parents will never be those people and, frankly, he doesn't want them to be. It's too late. Cut that loss.
His reaction, rather, is to imagine having a new family, one where no kids are going to be alone because there will be more than one of them, a family where no kids are treated like Max was, or untreated at all like he was, because he'll be there for them. That's something he can think about as long as he likes.
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gunilslaugh · 7 months
Note
Hi how are you? ^^ Can I request something more angsty? How would Xdinary Heroes react to saying something hurtful to you during a heated argument? And how would they try to apologize?
Hello, I'm doing good thank you! I hope you're doing well too.
All members ≥ •_• ≤
Summary: When Xdinary Heroes say something hurtful to you during an argument.
WC:~1.9k
Warning:grammar
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photo not mine credits to owner.
Gunil
By now with all the shouting back and forth at one another you don’t even remember what was the cause of this heated argument you were having with Gunil. Maybe the both of you were just stressed and unfairly taking it out on each other. 
“What’s the point of us even being together!” Gunil yelled very frustrated. Your face dropped and heart sank upon hearing those words. It felt like the world went quiet. A scott left your mouth and tears pricked your eyes. 
“I don’t know. What is the point?” You spoke bitterly. You turned away from Gunil ready to walk away. You needed space, time to think. The sight of you beginning to walk away filled Gunil with immense fear. He couldn’t lose you. That would be the worst thing that could possibly happen to him. Gunil quickly catches up to you, trapping your hand gently, but firmly in his. 
“Y/n, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I wasn’t thinking. I need you so much, please don’t leave me. You can be mad at me all you want, you're entitled to that, but don’t leave me please. I love you, I'm so sorry. Let’s not fight anymore,” Gunil sounds desperate. You know he’s telling the truth. You didn’t really mean the things you said either. 
“I’m not leaving you Gunil,” you turned to face him. “I do need some space though. I’m gonna go to my friend's place for a bit. Let’s sort it out when I get back,” you tell him, placing your free hand over his that was holding your other one. 
Gunil was a nervous wreck the whole time you were gone. Once you came back the two of you did talk it out, without fighting and ended it with a loving hug. 
Jungsu
Honestly you didn’t think that it would be possible to be in this heated of an argument with Jungsu, but here you were. Both of you grew more irritated as the fight progressed. 
“Can’t you just try to see things from my point of view? Why must you always be so stubborn and self-centered?” He shouts at you. You went silent. Is that how he really viewed you? Did he actually think you were that type of person? You couldn’t even think of a response. His words made you feel nauseous. Jungsu seemed to come to his senses by seeing you in your current state. He felt awful. He had to fix this. He shouldn’t have yelled at you. “Y/n, I didn’t mean it. Those things aren’t true. Don’t listen to what I just said,” Jungsu tells you approaching where you stood. He reached out for you, but you pulled away. “Y/n please! I’m so sorry,” He tried reaching for you again only for you to take a step back.
“Why’d you say it if it wasn’t true? A part of you must feel that way at least,” you were finally able to speak again. 
“No, no, y/n I was just frustrated and took it out on you. I know that hurt you. I regret saying it. I shouldn’t have said it,” he tells you. Tears glossed over his eyes. Jungsu knows that messed up tremendously. Once more he tries to reach out to you and this time you let him. He very carefully brings you into a hug. 
“I’m so so so sorry,” Jungsu sincerely apologizes, you can feel his tears wetting the top of your head. You slowly wrapped your arms around him. 
“Let’s not fight anymore,” you tell him and you don’t.
Gaon/Jiseok
Jiseok was feeling a bit insecure about how close you and a guy friend that you have were. He knew that you would never cheat, but he didn’t like how touchy your guy friend was being with you or how he would even blatantly flirt with you.
“Jiseok, he's just a friend. He acts like that with everyone. He would flirt with you too if you weren’t giving him the cold shoulder everytime you two are in the same room,” you defended.
“Even if he’s flirty, how can you just let him flirt with you when you're with me? It’s disrespectful to our relationship. It’s like you don’t care about me,” Jiseok coldly declared. How could he even say that? Of course you cared about him. He was one of the people you cared about most in fact.
“You know what, I'm tired of this. Come talk to me when you’re done being ridiculous,” you harshly told him. Then you walked away to your bedroom, shutting the door behind you. Jiseok was left alone with nothing but his thoughts. Had he gone too far? He let his insecurity get the better of him. Still he thought it was best to give you some time. He should sort out his own thoughts, so that you can maturely talk to you without causing another argument. It took him about twenty minutes before collected himself and worked up the courage to knock on the bedroom door.
“I’m done being ridiculous. Can I please come in?” He delicately asks from the other side of the door. You got up from where you were sitting on the bed and opened the door. It was the biggest relief for Jiseok. He immediately latches himself onto you. “Y/n I’m extremely sorry. You're right I was being ridiculous, but it’s because I love you so much. Honestly I feel so insecure whenever you’re with him because you look so happy and I’m scared you might leave me for him,” Jiseok reveals.
“Jiseok, I wouldn’t do that,” you reassure him, hugging him back.
O.de/Seungmin
You and Seungmin were usually really good at communicating with one another, so you don’t know how you ended up yelling harshly at each other instead. Words were just flying out of your mouths without putting any thought into them. 
“You’re so annoying and clingy. Do you really need reassurance everyday to know that I love you?” Seungmin sighs aggravated. They weren’t the worst words he could’ve said to you, yet they still stabbed you in your heart.
“Fine if you think I’m so clingy then I’ll leave you alone,” you spit bitterly. Beginning to make your way to the front door. Seungmin realized how much he screwed up. He doesn’t want you to leave. That would be a nightmare for him. 
“Y/n no don’t leave. I was wrong and just spewing nonsense. You’re not annoying or clingy. I love having you by my side. Don’t go please,” he begged you, rushing after you. 
“Seungmin, maybe we need some time apart. I don’t even know what we’re doing anymore,” you said. Inside you know that he didn’t mean the words that he spilled, but you need some time to recover from hearing them. 
“You can have time if you need it. That’s understandable, but promise you won’t leave me, that you’ll come back. I can’t lose you y/n especially over a stupid fight, saying words I didn’t mean,” Sungmin pleads. 
“I’ll be back Seungmin,” you promised him. You don’t want to lose him either, you love him, but you two aren’t communicating well right now. Both of you need a break. 
You left for a while and returned later after having time to gather yourself. Being ready to talk and listen, not argue. When you returned Seungmin bombarded you with apologies. After the two of you talked and communicated like you usually do.
Junhan/Hyeongjun
Hyeongjun was not one to argue, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t. That was being proven right now as the both of you stood in the living room exchanging insults. What started the flight was not even being talked (yelled) about right now. Rather it turned into you each shouting hurtful words at each other. 
“I really hate you right now!” He exclaimed. He won the hurtful words battle. Those words broke you. Tears quickly gathered and spilled from your eyes. 
“You do?” You choked out. The realization of what he just said hit him like a punch in the face. He quickly goes over to you, encasing you in his arms. You tried to push him away, but you were too upset to find the strength. 
“No. Oh my gosh no. I’m so sorry. I’m a horrible person. I don’t hate you I promise. I love you. I love you so much. You're the person I treasure the most, please don’t believe what I idoltically said,” he pleads desperately. He is now also crying. Unable to believe what he said. He holds you impossibly closer, scared that you’ll leave him. “Don’t break up with me over this please. I can’t lose you. I’ll make it up to you ok?” The two of you stay crying in each other's arms. After a while you pull away and sit on the couch. Hyeongjun was holding your hand, still afraid that you might leave him. 
“I’m sorry too Hyeongjun. I also said awful words to you. Let’s not keep fighting. It’s not good for either of us,” you apologized. Hyeongjun instantly agreed. The two of you then peacefully resolved the conflict that you were having. It took you a few days to recover, but your love was strong enough to overcome the horrible fight.
Jooyeon
Usually your fights with Jooyeon were trivial. They weren’t deep, mostly just lighthearted bickering. That was until this fight. This fight was heated and malicious. Insults were being shouted left and right with no mercy.
“Oh you’re just never in the wrong huh? You’re always right about everything? Can you never admit that you messed up? If you search the word stubborn I bet a picture of you pops up,” Jooyeon says, his voice laced with venom. It hurt like a punch to the gut. You admit you can be stubborn sometimes, but the way Jooyeon spit it out so coldly and the fact that it was him who said it made it feel even grim. 
“As if you’re any better?” You retorted, scoffing. You rolled your eyes and began to walk away. You went to the bedroom to have some space away from him. Jooyeon wanted to follow you the moment you walked away, but then he thought that it might be better to cool down for a while. Jooyeon replayed your fight in his mind. He realized that he was being a bit childish.  After a while he went to the bedroom and knocked on the door. 
“Y/n I’m sorry. It was a very stupid thing to say. Can you please come out, so we can talk it out maturely, without fighting,” he asks. You took a breath and went to open the door. With your time alone you also realized you weren’t being mature during the fight either. 
“I’m sorry too. We both were being childish,” you apologized. 
“I crossed the line though. I hurt you,” he says remorsefully. He reaches for your hands, you lace yours together with his. “ You’re not that stubborn I’m sorry for saying that,” he apologizes.
“I’m sorry for what I said too,” you apologized back.
“Apology hug?” he suggested.
“Apology hug,” you held each other.
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my-castles-crumbling · 5 months
Note
hi!! can you write a wolfstar fic with jealous remus? <33
Sure!
A/U: Everyone lives (not that it matters here, but I need to know that they live happily ever after), No Voldemort
Rating: T
It had been three weeks, four days, twenty-two hours, and five minutes since their first kiss.
Not that Remus was counting. But if he was, he would say that the past three weeks, four days, twenty-two hours, and five minutes had felt like some sort of dream, the kind that he couldn't possibly have made up on his own because it was too perfect, too amazing.
He still had to remind himself, on the daily, that Sirius actually liked him, that he, too, wanted to snog him every chance he got and hold his hand, and just stare like a lovesick idiot. It didn't make sense that Sirius would feel the same way, but he did.
Prongs jokingly called them disgusting, but all their friends had been thrilled for them that they'd finally realized their feelings. Apparently, Sirius had been pining almost as long as he had. They both wanted to kick themselves when they figured it out.
What was more, Sirius was so affectionate, so blatant about his love for Remus. It was so strange to him, but it gave him such a warm, safe feeling every time Sirius reached for him or perched himself in Remus's lap. Soon, he found himself reaching back, initiating. It was like Sirius was a comfort blanket- he felt most at ease when he was within arm's reach.
Which is why, after a long day of classes, he ached to find Sirius, to pull him into his arms, to breathe in the scent of his hair potion and hear him murmur horribly crass jokes in his ear.
He almost screamed when he found Sirius already on their favorite couch by the fire in the Common Room. With Mia Turner perched on his goddamn lap.
Remus was normally not a jealous person. He was the opposite of entitled- if somebody took something from him or had something he wanted, he just resigned himself to the fact that he probably didn't deserve it in the first place.
But after the weeks of bliss, of affection and warmth and comfort and happiness...he felt a fire rage in his stomach that he'd never truly felt before.
Because now that he had something so amazing, something he'd been wanting so long, he wasn't about to let Mia fucking Turner take it from him.
He stalked up to the pair, standing right on front of them, locking eyes with Sirius, who he immediately saw looked deeply uncomfortable and not at all like he was enjoying himself. "--so like I said, I'm not interested, so maybe..." Sirius trailed off, still addressing the oblivious Mia, who was too busy batting her eyelashes at Sirius to notice Remus towering above them.
"But we have so much in common," she purred, lightly tracing her fingertips over the collar of his leather jacket and practically breathing in his ear. "I mean...we both like leather."
Remus resisted the urge to punch something.
And Sirius was too busy looking at Remus, a smirk curling on his lips, to reply to Mia.
Remus took a steadying breath. "Actually, he prefers jumpers," he corrected in a light tone, tugging absentmindedly against the hem of his own oversized woolen jumper, the same one that Sirius had ripped over his head the previous evening.
Mia gaped.
"I like them best when they're on the floor," Sirius grinned, eyes glistening. "But I'm not picky."
They shared a heated glance before Remus met Mia's still-shocked eyes. "Guess you're not wanted here," he told her, a bit more viciously than he meant to, but he really couldn't be bothered.
She scampered off, face red and looking furious.
"Moony, where the fuck did that come from?" Sirius asked with an incredulous smile, standing from the couch and placing one hand on Remus's chest.
"I waited for two years for you, Sirius. I'm not letting anybody else get anywhere near you, now," Remus whispered a bit gruffly in his ear, wrapping his arms around Sirius's slim waist, finally relaxing.
And apparently Sirius enjoyed this sentiment quite a lot, because he pulled Remus into a heated kiss, then grabbed his hand and led him to the stairs.
Both the leather and the jumper ended up discarded on the dorm room floor only minutes later.
-
Hope you enjoyed! I would love more prompts if people want to send them! Wolfstar, Jegulus, Drarry, or Dorlene!
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mightbesmall · 8 months
Text
No, Bad Pets!
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Genre: Fluff, Crack.
Characters: Most students.
Warnings: Swearing, weird creature flirting.
Summary: You… turned into a pet?
Additional Notes: Based on this post by twst-drabbles on Tumblr, love their house pet au, janitor au and- their work in general tbh.  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The most angriest, low but somehow high at the same time, chirps were heard. Crowley was sweating buckets at this tiny creature that could fit in one hand. It was trying to look intimidating and it achieved that, Mr Crowley was shaking in his ridiculously expensive boots.
This small, angry creature is you. 
You see, you were chasing down some entitled prick who drive his motorbike riiight next to your house despite the obvious signs and spooked Azul and the Tweels'. You quickly calmed them down, placed them in wet towels for extra comfort and went outside. The jerk was looping back 'round the neighbourhood so you took your chance. Which leads to a few moments ago, you cornered and scolded the biker whilst pointing to the big, bold and blaring signs that clearly say "NO VEHICLES." He saw a Crowley storming out of his mansion so as a distraction of sorts, the asshole NPC blasted a spell right at your face. It was as if time stopped, Crowley certainly did.
A puff of smoke appeared as the biker scattered off somewhere, the oldies will certainly deal with him.
"Caretaker?" Crowley called out as the smoke cleared, where you stood was... nothing. "Huh?" The scattered brained male looked left, then right before down when he heard a piercing chirp that somewhat sounded like you somehow. 
"Great Sevens!" He cried as in place of you was a small, cute harpy... or a siren? He cannot really tell. You actually bore a lot of resemblance to the caladrius with your snow white feathers and comforting aura, despite the threatening chirps and squawks.
Anyways you were tiny yet you have already bitten Crowley thrice, he is now bleeding a tad. He just wanted to bring you to your house and figure it out from there but you were making it quite difficult!
...
He bribed you with food. As soon as he even uttered the first few syllables of your favourite food, you were chilling on his shoulder as docile as a mouse, apart from that squawk that he just knew was you telling him to hurry up. 
He barely got through your front door before a certain siren swooped in and snatched you off of his shoulders. He quickly followed you two to the front room where what Crowley can only describe as a council meeting was happening. All the pets were in the same room, how rare. Even the tweels' were on their little skateboards while Azul was perched on your coffee table. Spray bottles at the ready. 
Vil gently placed you down before setting beside you. Crowley took a seat on the chair. 
You chirped rather harshly at Floyd who was starting to glide towards you. He shrunk back in surprise before giving a toothy little grin. Jade chirped in a way that sounded like laughter.
Vil cooed at you, lightly brushing his wings against your rather pretty ones. You were rather beautiful for a harpy, though once upon a time they were known as elegant and refined creatures, not as much as sirens though but you get the idea.
Ace marched up to you with Deuce trailing behind him. They couldn't get that close before Vil squawked at them before resuming grooming you. Huh. It felt quite nice, you almost became putty in his talons. 
Ace huffed defiantly, stomping his foot before Cater dragged him back a bit. Deuce took some rather hesitant steps towards you, not wanting to disrupt Vil's hard work. He then plopped in front of you, with some soft chirps. What a sweetheart, keeping his voice low as to not hurt your most definitely sensitive hearing. He can relate, a new body isn't fun to your senses. 
Trey has a similar approach, he even offered you a seed. How... intimate. It's a clover seed and all. 
And so 36 minutes passed with Vil combing through your new feathers, highlighting your beauty and chatting with the others. Mainly Trey, Deuce, Jack and Epel. Vil wouldn't allow anyone else close. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You were flattered but Riddle had to stop. You do not want to hang out in his rose, you made yourself a pretty nice nest on your bed thank you very much. You chirped at him, it came out like a little coo, and gently rejected his offer. 
He wilted, very much pouty. But with his prideful nature, he stopped insisting and instead gave a little nod. You sighed as best you could with your tiny lungs and flapped your wings twice before you took off. You gently picked Riddle up, being mindful of your claws, and flew him to your room. Not caring for the way he shrieked and gripped your legs.
You hope he enjoyed your nest, it was mighty comfortable and you didn't want to share. Just this once though.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Another sandstorm, caused by a certain spirit. Leona was flying overhead displaying a beautiful masterpiece of his hard work. It was a rare sight to behold, oh and the art as well. 
When he was finished, the sand art dropped to the floor gracefully, showcasing its beauty. He then turned to you with a proud chuff, waiting for praise. You raised a brow at him before giving a small, drawled coo of approval. Bad idea, he practically inflated from the ego boost. 
You rolled your eyes at him, little attention seeker.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You were starting to see a pattern here.
Azul was trying to drag you to his cave. You can’t quite breathe in the water and he seems to forget that. As of right now Azul only succeeded in having you dip a claw in the tank. You chirped at him.
He understood now. He huffed and pouted in annoyance, even more so when Jade and Floyd started to laugh and cackle at him. He then took off to his cave before swimming back and produced a shiny golden coin to you. He seemed rather proud of himself when you inspected it. You didn’t take it though, instead you rolled your eyes before giving him a forehead kiss. Oh how he loved affection.
The tweels’ started to chirp in jealousy so you quickly took off before they could try nipping at you. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jamil was cuddling up to you, you were wrapped in his tail. You couldn’t fly away, not that you would anyways. Affection from Jamil wasn’t that common. He had you in a secure grip, though it doesn’t hurt. 
You gave a tired coo that the naga replied with a soft hiss. He was making sure you fell asleep here. In his bed. Wrapped up in his tail and his arms. You would’ve found it amusing if you weren’t just so tired, Kalim came over and was all over you. 
You swear you would’ve exploded from him trying to feed you crackers if it weren’t for Silver stepping in. God bless his beautiful soul.
Your eyes were starting to droop when you felt Jamil hiss. The little plant nymphs were back and trying to nab you from his clutches. Unfortunately you don’t exactly trust Ace to be careful with your feathers and you didn’t want Cater or Riddle to fuss over you so as soon as Jamil’s grip lessened, you flew up in a flurry of feathers. Off to your bed you go. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This was nice. Vil was behaving like normal, performing his elegant dances to you like usual but you couldn’t help but have an inkling feeling that he was putting extra effort in this one.
What a minute…
You gave him a dead eyed stare. He paid no mind and continued on with his prancing and display of his tail feathers. He then finished and was about to fly off when you gave a chirp. It was one that read, I am fed up with this bullshit. Vil was quite offended, thinking you disliked his dance, so he turned to you only for you to give another chirp.
 Oh.
So the others tried their hand at trying to seduce you as well, no matter. Vil is confident that he will be the best suitor, you two are similar in species and he is of course the most beautiful. 
You huffed before lightly whacking him with your wing and flew off, on your way to bother Crowley. It was feeding time for everyone after all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What a pretty sight.
The display of rainbow lights reflected quite well off of your white feathers, enhancing your curious but adorable situation. 
Idia was giving it his all, choosing the most vibrant colours, making sure to dazzle you. He made sure to really give his all when it was your favourite colour, illuminating the pond with the vibrant and wonderful colour.
Not too bright to flash bang you but bright enough to light the whole place up.
You just sat there, admiring the pretty colours as one does before patting Ortho on the head. He was snuggled up next to you. Idia should be mad that someone stole your attention away from him but it was Ortho so he’ll allow it. 
He turned to you, waiting. You gave a little hum before curling up with Ortho, who had found his way on your lap and is now enjoying you wrapping your wings around him. You were like a big blanket, very comfy.
Idia deflated a little at the lack of attention but it was Ortho… he soon joined you two as well. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You let out an undignified squawk. Malleus, the little devil, just picked you up out of your nest and flew off. He was taking you to his nest. While you have admitted to it looking comfortable, you’d much rather be in your own nest. You were in the middle of napping as well.
He plopped you down before sitting next you, clearly pleased with himself if his smile was anything to go by. 
You rolled your eyes before averting them to Sebek who was at the base of the tree. Conflicted. He doesn’t know if he should start yelling at you for being in the same nest as Malleus or leave you be because you are in the same nest as Malleus. You just raised a brow at him.
Lilia flew over before plopping down on a close branch, making it his duty to mess up your newly groomed tail feathers. You whacked him in the face, chirping at him when he started to laugh and mess up you wings.
Malleus meanwhile was just watching it all unfold, very much amused. He blew a small puff of fire in front of you, finding pleasure in the way you didn’t even flinch but instead gave him a narrowed eye stare. You weren’t mad but more so questioning as to why? He just gave a smile in response, covering your wings with his own.
Little shit. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You were finally alone, Ace thought as he snuck into your room only to receive the jumpscare of his life when he saw Cater, Deuce and Trey dog piled on top of you. Cater turned to him before giving a shit eating grin, relishing in the way you patted his head. 
Deuce and Trey also turned to him. The little lily nymph giving him a deadpanned stare before sticking his tongue out and went back to napping on you. Trey however gave Ace an ominous look before slowly shaking his head and turned away. Ace rolled his eyes, these guys can’t keep you to themselves, he wants attention too!
It then dawned on him that someone needs to attend to Riddle and the garden still. He gave the three a heated glare before giving you his best puppy eyes, he’s seen them work for others so he might as well try. You were not impressed and just, laid there. It was then that Ace knew he can’t get out of this. 
So begrudgingly, he sulked back outside. Next time he swears! 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He snuck back into your room, the other nymphs are busy so he can have all your attention on him. 
He entered your room only to be severely annoyed. There was Ruggie and Jack, napping away with you lightly scratching their scalps. 
Ruggie opened his eyes before nudging Jack, both of them staring at the nymph at the doorway. You also looked up, not looking impressed in the slightest. 
He huffed before storming out, he couldn’t push his way into the napping circle as Ruggie will get him back and Jack honestly kinda scares him. He fears you most though, doesn’t want you to be mad at him. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He swears he’s going to start hitting something.
Ace once again invaded your room only to find you missing, he searched high and low before sneaking his way into the only place he hasn’t checked: the Octavinelle tank. Low and behold, you were sitting at the edge of the tank with Jade and Floyd squeezing you. Not to hard but just enough to restrict any movement. 
He didn’t even bother to linger, those two scared him shitless. 
Next time for real this time. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Never has he felt the immense urge to beat a human since he first met you. Kalim wasn’t even in the garden this time!
The rich boy was pampering you in love and care, it was heartwarming to see but dammit when will he get a turn?!
You were just sitting there, waiting for Kalim to finish to probably nap. He was presenting tiny clothing for you, an assortment of wondrous food and sparkling jewellery. You know just rich kid things. 
Ace sighed in defeat and wandered off, ready for his next attempt. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And once again he was beaten. By a dryad and a creepy Frenchman no less. You were sitting on Rooks lap, combing your taloned hands through Epel’s hair, a bit like how Vil would. The fancy lad you were using as a chair was almost vibrating in excitement, gushing about how he’s never seen such a beautiful and exquis harpy before! He tried brushing his fingers along your wings but you bit him, he only chuckled at that before fanboying about such a display of strength and power, making you look oh so féroce!
The dryad was humming in content, he would hate for anyone to touch his hair to make him look cute or whatever but it feels real nice when it’s you. His little branches were swaying lightly in content. How precious.
The forgotten nymph only sighed deeply before turning and walking away, missing Epel’s teasing smirk. 
He is going to cry. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He walked into another cuddle pile, didn’t even need to invade your room to find you. 
You, Silver, Sebek and Lilia were all having a nice nap on the sofa in the front room. Sebek was even curled up into you.
It was unfortunately so heartwarming, Ace had to step out in defeat lest he puke from how fluffy it is in there. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ace will commit mass murder.
You were even cuddling with the weird cat before him! The weirdo was even purring as you laid on his back.
You two had an intense battle as he tried to eat you before you swooped down and hit him on the nose. You two then got too tired to continue so you just napped. 
At this point Ace was losing hope in being able to have your sole attention. A shame really. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The nymph was all depressed and sighing a lot as he tended to his duties. It annoyed Deuce so he kept his distance. 
There was then distant chirps, Ace thought it was just Vil before something swooped in and grabbed him causing him, Deuce, Trey, Cater and even Riddle to panic. There was a long coo that calmed them all down, it was only you. Wait it was you!
Ace was so happy he could finally get your attention on him and only him. He didn’t even notice that you bought him to your room before you dropped him into your nest, sitting down beside him. 
It was cuddle time, something Ace has never felt so excited before in his life.
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l4long-winded · 5 months
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i. the freefall (ergo, the beginning)
summary: you're bored with the available clientele you're scheduled to appease. you're on your way out of the tavern when you stumble upon, literally and figuratively, geralt of rivia. how long had he been sitting there? (geralt of rivia x afab!reader)
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reflection: i couldn't sleep and i had the idea for this lodged in my brain. it has undergone little editing, but persevere. there is some story in there... kinda. enjoy, and feedback is always encouraged and appreciated.
warnings: brothel!reader, mention of the word whore, cursing, dirty talk, oral, riding, destiny, p in v, overstimulation, praise, longwinded descriptions, obedience, teasing, girl talk, thumb sucking, original characters (please let me know if there are other warnings i need to add)
word count: 4,367
previously: prologue
( this work has been cross posted to ao3 )
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It’s a busy night at the inn, there are scattering men jesting about their conquests and journeys at every turn, all talking at once until the voices meld into one another, white noise buzzing in your ears as you search across the bar for possible clients. It’s a birthday party of some sort and you’re degradingly a part of the package they signed up for in celebration of their mate… who is currently laying face down in his barstool right next to you. You grimace as you nudge his drooling face away from you, recalling how he fell asleep through a few minutes of conversation. Next door, a ten minute distance, is the brothel that you and your colleagues work for. Seeing that it’s only you and two other women, Janci and Talla, both of whom are chatting up possible prospects, you groan in your solitude and opt for a mug of mead to drown your sorrows away. Parties such as these hardly did your commission’s rate any good. By contract, you’re required to be paid by attendance. The bare minimum that is. If you wish to earn and save a living, you must actually participate and garner it, for the establishment and for your sake.
You hopelessly sigh as you watch the drunkards play games that make little to no sense, basic questions asked with the purpose of drinking no matter the answers presented. At this point, you don’t think you want to take any of them to bed in this state. They’re handsy when they’re inebriated and entitled in such a fashion that implicates how well you can stay in character. You stand from the stool, prepared to head out and confess your weakness, your failures back home, the door beckoning you up ahead behind a shirtless man with an overgrown beard. It’s about time to cut your losses and stay up in bed disappointed rather than sulk and do so in public at an inn’s tavern. Your heels click on the floor, four steps away from the bar, your hands lifting your heavy skirts so you can continue walking without restricted movement. In doing so, a man’s back bumps into your shoulder with enough force to knock you down to the floor.
You stagger as you fall backwards, aiming for the nearest seat as there were so many sporadically placed from men moving them about, switching spaces the more excited they became. Accurately, you do land into a seat, but it’s not a chair. It’s a person and you somehow missed him this entire time, he must’ve slipped in undetected very recently. It’s a miracle, you think, how such a large man slipped under your radar, how the cloak over his head conceals rigid, masculine features you believe prove the existence of the divine and how she has her favorites. You glance to the left to see sunglow emanating from this patron’s eyes, to see that sunglow completely focused on you, the woman who fell clumsily into his lap. The warmth of his irises contrasts the ice of his silver hair, of his pale skin tone, of the opaque he dons in body armor that’s digging into your side. Come to think of it, you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone like him.
“No respect, fools of influence,” he mutters, baritone entrenched in his tone, gravel sitting nicely on his vocal chords. You’re glad your first experience hearing it is so close to your ear, it’s almost as if he intimately whispered it just for you alone. From how loud the inn currently is, he might as well have.
“You’re clear to stand,” he says and it’s tempting since it was a previous desire, but he’s drinking from his mug now, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps the liquid away. His jawline comes down when he’s done, the mug set down into the surface behind your body. You should stand, but you’re entranced by him, under a silent incantation. It’s not like he’s bolstering or pushing you away, either. His eyes trace your movements, how little they are, and he resolves something in his head as he allows his hand to travel to your hip. The steady weight of it tells you he’s made peace with the circumstance.
“Or stay there. Take your time.” He leans back into his chair, his legs outstretched to give you a better seat, more room of muscle mass that you can feel flex from the adjustment. You maintain your balance by hanging onto his shoulders, a slight gasp leaving your mouth from how your skirts ride up your knees and thighs. You catch his glance there and then his eyes are glued back to yours. Something in the pit of your stomach gnaws away at you from how intense his gaze is. You would usually shrink away from someone so intimidating, that is, if that same intimidation didn’t spur fire within you like it’s presently doing.
“What’s your name?” He asks, the hand on your hip coming back to memory as he strokes his thumb along you. You shiver at the contact, even somehow through the layers of fabric he’s doing this through.
“Clove,” you say, rehearsed as ever that he squeezes your hip for.
“Your real name?” He questions next, but you’re unable to divulge that much. You shake your head, and he nods his own in understanding to your surprise. He doesn’t even pry further than that, other men would have tried to and then thrown tantrums.
“So, Clove, any reason I shouldn’t usher you off my lap so I could acquire a room and get some sleep?” He nudges you, changing the subject. You could feel your confidence depleting sitting atop of him. It’s mimicking your luck for the night and you’re afraid he would refuse your advances. You’re afraid you wouldn’t be able to handle him.
“I… I’m not sure,” you stutter out. This isn’t your first time picking a man up, but god were you bad at it. None were as patient as this man is, who taps your hip, calling attention to his stroking again.
“You’re not?” One arm rounds your waist, trapping you into him. You swallow harshly as you shift your hips involuntarily. It’s friction that lights your core, a shaky sound slipping from between your lips. No one else turns to look, but the hardened tent beneath you illustrates how this man heard you loud and clear. He inhales with purpose, gathering the fabric of your skirt between his fingers. You don’t know what he could be thinking about, but he’s regarding you with hunger you’ve seen and are familiar with at least.
“I may…” you slide your hips back, locating his arousal to grind against. His grip on your hip tightens, limiting your gyrations, how dull the pressure is as you chase his clothed cock with your desperate attempts. He grunts into your ear and already you’re imagining this with less clothing, with less individuals, with less discussions surrounding you, with only each other in a private room to do whatever he wanted. “I may know how to ride.”
His hands cover both your hips, halting your motions much to your chagrin. Your first instinct is to believe you’ve done something wrong, your eyes tracing his facial features to decipher what it could have been, if you went too fast too soon, or maybe you moved in a way that he didn’t like. Except, as molten gold meets your gaze, it’s a thinner ring of pigment as he roots you into him, dilation honed in on you, caused by you. You had him the second you fell into his lap, it’s your revelation because you’ve barely said a thing and he’s sizing you up, gauging you like a predator and its prey. You could feel his cock throbbing like this, expanding with pulses right up against your leaking center. He’s interested, been interested, and he’s gripping your jaw into his hand.
“How much?” He all but growls.
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Geralt of Rivia, the name of the man who signs his name for a room with you, lavs at your cunt until you’re preening and kanting your hips towards his face. It rocks you almost violently and it shocks you how quickly it happened. He licks you through the aftermath, caresses your pulsing button with the flat of his tongue in efforts to appease the sensation floating over you in deep waves. You mewl as he removes his mouth, as he sits up on his knees to wipe it with the back of his forearm and wrist. His lips still glisten with you after the fact, with the sweat coating his brow and thinly coating his free chest, his shirt and armor discarded carelessly through the eagerness you both let get the best of you. You fumbled with the key to the room as Geralt stood behind you, his voice promising of what he would do, dropping in octave and volume as if you weren’t already alone, as if he were reciting a secret in confidence. Nerves visibly danced in your hands and he did nothing to help, amused by your struggling, cool and collected as his nose nuzzled against your neck and shoulder.
“You’re trembling,” he noted, “That won’t stop… I won’t stop.”
When you finally pried the door open, he displayed to you how little of his resolve he had left since he immediately pushed you up against it. His lips and teeth occupied themselves with your neck, your leg hooking him by the hip to bring him closer. He used the opportunity to lift you by it, doing so as if you weighed nothing, carting you to the bed to sit and pull your skirts up while he removed his upper layer of clothing. It’s quite a sight to recognize how the armor’s mold has been crafted to represent muscle, but it’s another to see just how much of it was hidden away under there. It’s like he somehow got bigger if it were even possible.
It’s prominent to you now as you stare up at him, skirts disheveled about your hips, thighs spread open, his form right in the middle of the space. He commands attention, the lantern of the room illuminating his features. He uses two fingers to trail over the seam of your entrance, gathering the wetness, your voice surrendering to a whimper. You will yourself not to close your legs from how stimulating it feels post-orgasm, you don’t know if you’ve ever been so sensitive to touch in your life.
“So soft,” he murmurs. The pads of his fingers are rough, but astonishingly gentle, perfect for friction, not perfect for recreation. It’s not possible to replicate with your own hand. You’re just going to have to make this night count for all it’s worth.
Geralt stalks the weight of his body over you, his hands caging you in from how they plant on the mattress below at either side of your head. He stares at you without saying anything. He observes you cautiously, doesn’t move a muscle despite how you’re panting underneath him. It’s because of how wound up your body is, how short of breath you are from chasing and reveling in your high thanks to him and his skillful mouth. A mouth you want to kiss, but there are rules in this, rules that you can tell he knows without having to be told. Just as he’s not your first client, you’re not his first whore. So, you feel a surge of pride at the slick right under his bottom lip, at how it descends to his chin. You wish you could taste his tongue to taste yourself on it having never done that before, but you’ll settle for the next best thing.
Your hands cup his face as they would if they were bringing someone in for a kiss and Geralt allows it. He, and all his power, doesn’t stop you as you guide his head down towards you. He’s puzzled by what you’ll do, quizzical in his expression as you don’t attach your lips, but you do lick along your own lips as you conjure the courage to carry on with your plan. Then, you lap your tongue over your slick, what he missed still on his face. You can hear his knuckles crack from how he tightens his fingers into the sheets below. It’s fucking filthy, and he knows it, you’re sheepish as you fall back down into the bed, staring up at him with doe eyes that he sees right through.
“Wrap your legs around me,” now not necessarily said aloud, but punctuating his sentence in essence with the minacious look he levels you with. You do as you’re told, your legs claiming his torso, and suddenly, the world spins and you’re sprawled on top of him. Geralt grabs a nearby pillow and he maneuvers it under his head, gesturing after to your spread thighs on him.
“You’re going to ride me,” he begins, “You’re going to show me what you know.”
You feel dumbfounded. It’s what led you to the bedroom, but there’s extra pressure at stake. You want to please him as he’s pleased you and now it appears to be a tall order in comparison. You’re not sure how you can rise to the occasion, trembling from how good his tongue felt on you, from how needy he’s rendered you when it should be the other way around.
“But I’m… shaking,” you admit. It’ll hinder your performance. Unlike him, you’re not at full strength and you’ve been blindsided by his prowess.
“I’m aware. You’ll sheath my cock wonderfully,” he reassures you, an encouraging hand on your hip making you believe him. If he praises you like that again, you’ll believe you could fly and leap off a tower if he professes it.
You undo the laces of his trousers and summon your ability to focus on the task without paying mind to your clumsy fingers. He’s patiently watching you from above. It’s conflicting. One, because he’s giving you free reign to dictate the pace and you’re unfamiliar with such a phenomenon. And two, you’ve been told and taught for years that a man should be writhing and squirming to get inside you, that’s what desire is. You fear the possibility of desiring him more than he’s desiring you. Surely, it’s insecurity with someone so experienced, but you’re the one being paid here. You’re striving to honor him, to satisfy him and earn his coin, not make him feel as if he was robbed.
Soon, his laces are undone and you utilize your hand to slip him free of his trousers. He hisses at the contact, his hips slightly shifting into your hand. The girth of him in your palm throbs, a pearly substance dribbling from his tip in thick beads that run down his shaft. You fight the urge to taste him and shuffle your skirts up to align yourself with him. Geralt’s hands find your hips to aid you in lowering yourself down, the fat head of him breaching your entrance, nudging your walls apart past a limit you didn’t know you had. You brace your hands on his chest so you don’t fall forward and gravitate away from the deep stretch his cock’s bending you into. He lets out a grunt as you gradually slide down until he’s at the hilt, your hips rocking enough to create minor adjustments for comfort, for your knees, and curiously, he mutters “fuck” in reaction. Your head snaps up to assess his features and he’s already staring right back at you. Only, his eyebrows are creased and his hands compress the hold they have on your hips. You squeak, your walls hugging him tighter in that instance and he pulses faster, more incessantly. You can almost feel it on your clit.
“You better move… before I move you,” he relents. Finally, a tell that he’s drawn up as tight as you, his control slipping by the seconds.
You do as he wills, your back erect as you sit up tall for him. You lift your hips up and then lower yourself onto him, his cock spearing deep inside with every fall downwards. It’s heaven being split this wide open for Geralt, hearing the obscenities that fall from his lips as you repeatedly sink on him. He’s hot and swollen inside of you and you can feel every ridge of him from how his width pushes up against your tightening walls. You moan to the ceiling as he separates his thighs and outstretches them in the same fashion that he did earlier with you in his lap (well, how different is this, really?) and it causes your own to stretch further. You sink lower by proxy and it catches you so off guard that your upper body hangs forward, one hand on his pectoral, the other on his rib. You have a better view of his face this way, hair strands fall into your vision as you trace his eyes and continue your gyrations. Your mouth falls open as your hips crest back, impaling yourself on his length, watching the pleasure overtake his features as he groans along with you.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, you weren’t ly-... lying,” he sputters, his thumbs finding the junctions under your hip bones that he clutches and tests. Your flesh feels like it’s on fire and you double over, milking his cock without pause, digging your fingernails into his skin and the scar tissue you find collected there at your right hand. You mewl as he ruts his hips up into you, meeting you on the downstroke, jabbing beautifully at that bundle of nerves inside of you that you could never reach with your fingers, much less with other men. “Fuck-fuck, I want to fuck your mouth,” he rambles, discarding your hip from his hand so he could cup your cheek. The image springs to life in your head and you cry out as he cradles your chin, as you continue to desperately fuck yourself on him and corral your hips despite being bent over him.
His thumb traces over your lips, your moan vibrating into his skin. “You’d let me, wouldn’t y-you?” He dips his thumb into your mouth and you immediately latch on with roaring enthusiasm, the tip of your tongue licking the pad. “You’d let me f-fuck your mouth, gods, nngh,” you suck his thumb in tandem with your moving hips, “until I filled it, hm? Until I’ve f-filled it full of m-me.” You have no choice but to moan at the lewdness of it, against his thumb still in your mouth. His fingers tighten on your jaw and you feel like you might float away at this rate, slick on him, lightly coated in perspiration from gliding along his cock. “Just like I’m going to pump y-you full right now,” he growls, removing his thumb and hand so he could push you back by your shoulder.
You sit up on him and take the hint, maneuvering faster on him, humping him with voracity you didn’t know you were capable of. You’re chasing after another high at the same time that you want to deliver him to his. As you busy yourself with your speeding hips and your thighs silently crying out in protest from the strain, you watch Geralt’s hands pushing your skirts away from your center, where the two of you connect. It reminds you of when you were trying to get the key into the lock earlier, frustration in his movement that doesn’t resemble the steel control he had before. Unlike you, however, he doesn’t keep trying until the skirts are in a suitable position for him… he simply tugs and you hear definitive rips resound throughout the room. The fabric is finally out of his way so he could buff his thumb, the same one that was in your mouth, the same one still doused in your saliva, over your keenly sensitive clit. He runs along it with your hip rolls and it’s perfect, satisfying, mind-bending, and then it’s all too fucking much at once.
You croon as you climax, mindlessly rocking your hips through it, and thankfully, Geralt doesn’t move his thumb over your pulsating clit. It’s so stimulated that you know your spine would stutter in reaction. He just keeps it there, nobly letting you orgasm with warmth and security you deserve, driving his hips up to settle his cock deep within you as he cums. Hard. His neck strains as he moans, as he fills you to the brim just like he prophesied moments ago. The flood seeps from where he’s still buried inside, oozing from your outer lips down to his base and pelvic bone. You feel boneless, and that much is shown with how you crumble on his chest, panting in the afterglow of ultimate euphoria. Geralt draws shapes on your back, the thrum of breathing heard as you both come back down together.
You can hear his heartbeat like this. It’s not erratically beating like yours is, but the tempo is heavy. Like the heart of a horse.
“Skirts aren’t cheap,” you whisper, frowning as you think of the new slits Geralt made in your attire, right down the middle where you conceal your money maker under. Said money maker who’s currently raw and gushing, beaming with delight of the cock that shreds away her vacancy.
“Hmm.”
Geralt doesn’t say anything. You already know he’s a man of few words. From how short your exchange had been earlier in the tavern, you understand how he likes to get to the point. You’re grateful for it since you loathed the small talk, the flirtatious personality you had to don on for simple-minded suitors who fell into your hands. If you had known of his bluntness, you would have fallen into his lap sooner.
You’re comforted. Oddly so. He pushes your hair away from your shoulder and works his mouth against it. Your eyes slip closed. It tickles, his stubble does, but it’s… it feels different. Geralt is different.
You’re suddenly moaning again as Geralt thrusts up into you. He’s still hard, again proving to you that he’s different because it’s rare for men to have this much stamina, to be hard again after that much stimulation. His strong arms hold you to him and you weakly cast your eyes up at him. He thrusts once more, your head hiding in the crook of his neck as you brokenly mewl for more. More, more, more, you think, and as if he can hear your brain, he snaps his hips up.
“You’re shaking,” he recites, humor in his tone. You gasp as he shifts you to your back, his cock still inside. He hooks your knee up at his hip. “Like a fucking leaf.” He pounds into you, then, with no abandon, your tight channel slick with his cum.
He did warn you he wouldn’t stop.
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You’re sitting with your girls, listening as they chatter on and on about their bouts from last night. They’re mostly complaints and usually, that’s how it goes. You join in, they take your side, you all condemn men, and then you laugh. It’s a routine of the morning after. Though, this morning, you’re having trouble focusing on any word coming from Janci’s mouth. You just keep thinking about Geralt, how you woke up distorted and alone in your room. The bed was still warm and it gave you indication that it hadn’t been long since he left. A bag of coin sat in his empty spot and it’s bittersweet because it’s good payment, but it certainly doesn’t compare to the man’s body it replaced. You held it to your naked chest as you recollected the events, much like you’re doing now as Janci speaks, and then dressed so you could deliver it to your madam Grix.
Speaking of the devil, you can see Grix pass by the table out of the corner of your eye.
You realize your name’s been called about four times by Janci and the image of Geralt sliding his tongue over your clit slowly fades away from your mind’s eye. “What was… what was the question?”
There’s a fit of laughter. You know it’s at your expense since you were daydreaming, and you would really like to get back to that, but you wait for it to clear so Janci could fill you in.
“I asked how it went for you. It’s like you disappeared. One second you were alone at the tavern and then none of us heard from you for the rest of the night!”
“Oh, I heard her last night,” Cecil says into her cup, her utterance low, the giggles fleeing from mouths yet again.
You could feel your face burning at the accusation. You don’t have time to defend yourself as a clink of metal resounds on top of the table. A bag of coin sits in front of you, you all look at madam Grix standing there with her usual grimace. She pats your shoulder.
“Your witcher was generous,” she says. The sound of the word witcher ironically ceases all conversation among the girls. They stare at you blankly, no longer in amusement. This is… this is your commission. You just wish Grix didn’t hand it off to you in front of the others. You can just feel their eyes burning on the bag as your own head tries to decipher what the hell a witcher was.
You don’t say anything else, you just reach for the bag, thank madam Grix, and you stow away to your room. You open the bag and place its contents with your other savings. This is not the amount you agreed on, you thought it felt too weighted earlier. It’s more actually, and you’re unsure why madam Grix let you keep it, she’s notoriously greedy. Then, at the bottom of the bag, you find a scrap of paper. It’s in handwriting you don’t recognize, but you know who it belongs to. And it makes you smile.
For your skirts, it reads.
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