#Ophelia Delight

[heavy-nfld]

SHOW ALERT: Pride in the Park - Ophelia Delight and Crystal Queer, Aiden Gaebel, Amy Norman, Jacinda Beals Band, Wild Step, and The Flummies @ Kinsmen Park - Saturday, July 6th, 2024.

[soft-baby-punk]

i ended up making more saltburn x classic art pieces 🤷🏻‍♀️💕 i don’t think i’m done yet but we’ll see idk

i’m particularly proud of the venetia one 🥰🩸

[omens-for-ophelia]

YOUR INEFFABLE KISSES ARE SINGLE HANDEDLY KEEPING ME GOING. you're extremely talented and I can't wait what other lovely kisses you're going to unleash upon the world <3

asdfjfkfksh 🫣🫣🫣

thank you very much for being so sweet 🥹🩷

i am having so much fun with this series and im so incredibly happy and humbled that people are enjoying it as much as i am!

i have a looong prompts list to choose from so far and it's wonderful to have so much inspo!

thanku again 🫂🩷🩷🩷🩷

i've tagged & collected my ineffable kiss series here!

[banditleonne]

𝑰𝒎𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝑵𝑷𝑪𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝑩𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆

𝘖𝑝𝘩𝑒𝘭𝑖𝘢 𝘚𝑖𝘭𝑣𝘢 : one of his best friends. ex-FWB. one of the only girls he kept in his life after he cut most all the others out because they were friends first. she met him when he was in the orphanage and would take him home with her sometimes so he could get a shower and hot food.

𝐸𝘻𝑟𝘢 𝘉𝑎𝘳𝑙𝘰𝑤𝘦 : childhood friend and the one he started violent delights with. he was in a tragic car accident with his twin sister Luna that killed their parents. His hands were so badly broken he could never play guitar for any length of time again. he's now the guitar tech for the band.

𝐿𝘶𝑛𝘢 𝘉𝑎𝘳𝑙𝘰𝑤𝘦 : childhood friend and twin sister ( 5 minutes older ) of Ezra. Always tagged along with the boys and just enjoyed being included. After the accident with Ezra, she has severe PTSD. She runs the social media accounts for the band and is the one that takes the pictures.

[crushsung]

she's been in the industry this long, and still can't fathom small talk, especially in these claustrophobic settings. but she's seen their work, that's more than she can say about most people. more often than not, she's bullshitting when it comes to the rich and famous. "you do shakespeare well," she's only a little bit better at this than she used to be, "i always thought you'd make a good ophelia. hamlet is more my thing."

@stamour liked for a starter.

[shodansbabygirl]

I gave my wife's business bear a corsage; finally after all of his years in business he may relax.

[bearcina]

Working on a silly Valentine's day thing, been connecting a bunch of my loose scenes in my notebook and I'm working hard on connecting them well

[tsyvia48]

Author & Mensch: Reflections on the impact of @neil-gaiman on my life, in essay and doodle

As a woman of a certain age, I am a well-practiced overthinker. Nerd, geek, know-it-all, intellectual, the names have been biting or praise depending on who wielded them. They’re all true, and I embrace them. 

In the early days of adulthood, when I was a wee 20-something overthinking nerd, geek, know-it-all, intellectual (20+ years ago), I became deeply interested in image and text and text-as-image. While friends were watching and arguing over Survivor, I was obsessing over Peter Greenaway’s The Pillowbook and Prospero's Books and Neil Gaiman’s Sandman. (To this day my copies of the Sandman graphic novels and the English translation of The Pillowbook of Sei Shonagon are proudly displayed on the good bookshelves—you know, the ones I want people to peruse.)

Sandman isn't merely good storytelling and good art, it teases at some of the fundamental questions to which my religion-major heart was consistently and reliably drawn. It modeled a way of rendering the questions—and suggested answers—I would never have imagined on my own.

In those days, I created an artist's book: an altered gift edition of Hamlet. I explored Ophelia’s femininity and the inevitability of her break with her mental health, caught as she is between Hamlet and her father. I imagined her story if she’d had true agency. I investigated the way art (fan art?!) had shaped my understanding of the play and my relationship to it. I layered in my story—my resonance and dissonance with hers—and my art, along with images of famous and not-so-famous paintings of Ophelia. I proudly named Greenaway and Gaiman as influences. 

I imagined myself an artist. And, truthfully, I suppose I was one. 

I read Good Omens back then, too, delighting over the religious tropes and subversions, the humor, and the fundamental faith in humanity that shone through. 

In the two decades since then, below the din of “responsible” choices (that have mostly moved me away from imagining myself an artist) there has been a melody quietly bringing me comfort, shifting my perspective, and reminding me who I want to be. When I stop to listen for and name the music, I realize much of it generates from Neil Gaiman. 

The Graveyard Book gave me comfort and hope as a new parent. 

Ocean at the End of the Lane reminded me of the layers and the depths⏤the archetypes and metaphors⏤present in everything around me, if I am willing to seek them.

Neil’s anecdote about meeting Neil Armstrong has been a talisman against imposter syndrome. Or, more precisely, it has been a permission slip for forgiving myself when the imposter syndrome inevitably surfaces.

The episode of Dr Who he wrote (“the Doctor’s Wife”) changed the way I understand the entire Dr Who experience before and since. 

Lucifer (tv), which his work inspired, gave me joy, comfort and distraction through a tough time in my life. 

When, a few years ago, I realized he is Jewish, I had that swelling of pride and resonance that I always get when someone I admire shares that identity with me.

And now there’s the Good Omens tv series. It has opened something in me I didn’t realize was closed. Crowley and Aziraphale are helping me better understand myself, and love, and gender, and storytelling, and, believe it or not, Torah. I am writing again for the first time in ages. I'm drawing more often and with more joy than I’ve known maybe since childhood.

I’ve been getting back into my gratidoodle practice, drawing and writing what I’m grateful for. And when I decided to add Neil Gaiman’s face and some words about my appreciation for his work to my sketchbook, I realized he’s brought me full circle.

Text and image and text-as-image + Neil Gaiman + story is an old constellation for me. And once again, I find my thoughts dancing, shifting, blossoming to the quiet melody of (one of?) the greatest storyteller(s) of this generation. 

And now that I am actively engaging with other Gaiman fans, I see how responsive and kind and encouraging he is to those of us who love his work, and his name is permanently etched on my heart: a benefactor, a teacher, a role model.

How satisfying and fitting that such a powerful and resonant voice, miraculously, thankfully, beautifully, also seems to be a genuine mensch. 

B”H (thanks to God) that I am alive at the same time as such a one.

#I didn't realize I was going to write AND draw when I started this #but I felt I needed both #I wish I had a flatbed scanner #this photo doesn't do it justice #there's greater nuance in the color in person #Stories matter #Art matters #like, really matters #Neil Gaiman is a gift to this world #Good Omens #Crowley and Aziraphale #Ocean at the End of the Lane #The Graveyard Book #Neil Armstrong and imposter syndrome #The Doctor's Wife #So grateful for tumblr

[randomishnickname]

Must-read Destiel fics - my superduper Nov. 5th rec list

Three years ago, on the blessed day of November 5th, 2020, I had:

never seen an episode of SPN,

only had a vague inkling of what the two pale coconuts were on about,

and I hee-heed and ha-had with the rest of Tumblr about the love confession scene and the Internet errupting in an unparalleled craze

At first I thought, that's it.

Then ... I got curious. I watched some YouTube Destiel supercuts. I read some fic (I think @andhumanslovedstories beautiful Cas/OC fic was my entry point?). I read meta. I watched some more YouTube scene packs. I read even more fic. I watched some of S4, some of S1, some random fan fav episodes. And then Destiel lodged itself so deeply, thouroughly into my brain that it took over and hasn't relinquished control in the last two years. The most tenacious, pervasive brain worm to date.

This ship got it all, and this fandom got it all, and there's such delightful, powerful, batshit crazy, romantic, expertedly crafted fanfic out there, it's like being a starving child in the world's biggest candystore.

So without further ado, here's some of my very favorite fics from this infinite trove, with all my thanks to the wonderful writers who keep delighting and awing me with their dedication and craft. There'll of course be some recency bias at play but you can browse my bookmarks over here to chose from over 100 excellent and well-curated SPN stories.

💕CATEGORY: SWOONWORTHY💕

Wildly romantic fics that warm you up from the inside.

It Won't Be Perfect by someonetoanyone (10K words) Summary: Dean daydreams about what it'd be like to let himself love Cas freely.

Why I love it: the humor, the spot-on characterizations, and the quintessential late season Destiel-ness of being so deeply love with your best friend that it's too big to actually do anything about. Just. So warm.

Rock Lobster by Ginger Fail (13K) Summary: Cas decides that the lobsters Dean planned to cook need to get back home. Impromptu beach vacation ensues!

Why I love it: This road trip story is fresh and invigorating like a sea breeze! Fun, entertaining and full of deep, deep fondness.

Seek to Know You Better by ahurston (32K)

Summary: On a road trip, Dean and Cas play the 36 Questions That Lead To Love.

Why I love it: They’re so deliberatedly, carefully starting a relationship here. They try so hard to bridge the gaps and meet each other halfway. A very mature take on love that feels nourishing.

☢️CATEGORY: BRAINWORMS GALORE☢️

Fics that make you go BARK BARK BARK.

samson went back to bed by piesexuality (9k, @twoheadedcas) Summary: Cas strikes a deal with Chuck - keeping his family together comes at the price of their free will.

Why I love it: What if Cas got his revenge for the Mala'ak box? What if love came at the price of everything you've been fighting for? What if a story twisted the knife oh so sweetly? Each word of this one lands a punch. Made me insane in the best of ways (cue pinned fanart).

In sickness by @saintedcastiel (41K) Summary: S4 redux but Castiel has a fetish: giving Dean the sniffles.

Why I love it: This one is soooo. Can barely find words for it. It taps into Cas' early season alienness and psychosexual obsession with Dean, brilliantly demonstrates Casdean vs Samruby parallels, and each word is just. Perfect. ARGH!

so much smoke in a hall full of mirrors by AreYouReady (6K, @autisticandroids ) Summary: Godstiel is losing his heavenly war. Crowley provides a compliant Dean-doll for him to release his frustrations upon.

Why I love it: Urgh, this one is sooo dark. Taps into the scary, intimidating and alien aspects of Godstiel so well. Gore, consent and psychosexual issues galore. Delicious.

Special mention: In a Parked Car, Exhuming Ophelia by @an-android-in-a-tutu (17K). Still need to comment properly ;)

💣CATEGORY: EMOTIONAL WRECKING BALLS💣

Angsty fics that tear you to pieces to remake you better.

What Used To Be Mine by someonetoanyone (48K words) Summary: Dean never makes his apology prayer in Purgatory - Cas dies, Dean mourns.

Why I love it: Oh god, this is a heavy hitter. Just, straight up insurmontable grief, packaged in poetic, raw language to make you shed tears and tears. Loved it so much.

Ignite your bones By ilovehowyouletmefall (67K, @angelinthefire) Summary: Dean accepts Chuck's deal: killing Sam to save the world.

Why I love it: Cruuuuel cruel premise for a story that doesn’t pull its punches. It gets dark in Dean’s head and everyone around him suffers. Wonderfully written. The ending set my brain on fire.

Right Where you Left Me by outdean (93K, @armandgender)

Summary: Cas comes back from the Empty after 10 years to find Dean married to another man.

Why I love it: This one is a riiiide. When grief has become a part of you but your love comes back… When you return from the dead and have to carve a new space into the world for yourself... nothing is easy here, but the emotions are INTENSE. Also, autistic!Cas for the win.

Special mention: Who Ya Gonna Call? by saintedcastiel (50K) and Clear skies in spring by enochianprayer (WIP)

💥CATEGORY: EPIC RIDES💥

Expansive, wild adventures with lots of ups and downs

Spirit of the West by teen_dean (140K, @urne-buriall)

Summary: An 18y old Dean grew up on a horse farm – cue veterinarian Castiel. The summer of a lifetime ensues.

Why I love it: So this is one of my very favorite stories, ever ever, and I cannot recommand enough to immediatedly suscribe to the author’s Substack to be able to follow it in „real time“ next summer. It’s cinematic, rich, full of darkness and light, it’s everything a story can aspire to, I’m just. I just really love it.

Second Verse, Same as The First by LaLaCat1 (135K)

Summary: Endverse!Cas is sent back to the start of S1 and is determined to make things right this time round.

Why I love it: a desperate and badass Cas, unfridging everyone, a thrilling plot, moments of awesome for the entire cast, gripping action scenes, a romance for the ages… this is a genuinely amazing story.

back road, black road by eden22 (167K)

Summary: 18y old Sam gets kidnapped by Hell on his way to Stanford. Dean tries to deal.

Why I love it: So this one’s not Destiel-centric but does have wonderful Destiel moments. It’s also very heavy on the gore and the angst (NOT for the faint of stomach), but expertly crafted, fascinating and frankly it deserves more love. Held my breath for half the read and never knew where it’d take me.

Special mention: It's The End Of The World (As We Know It) by tiamatv (140K)

🤪CATEGORY: DESTIEL INSANITY🤪

Uproariously funny stories about the intricate rituals these two weirdos get up too.

Life Skills by ilovehowyouletmefall (26K)

Summary: Dean teaches a newly human Cas how to be „a real man“.

Why I love it: Dean coming to Big Self-Realizations while trying to have platonic threesomes with Cas is so perfect. Very endearing, tender and funny. Also, smoking hot sex.

the cheapest room in the house by biggaybenny (89K)

Summary: Dean downloads Grindr for Cas

Why I love it: Just. Late season Dean being deranged about Cas’ sexuality while everyone watches on in utter confusion. Equally hilarious and deeply moving

according to all known laws of life by @sobsicles (29k)

Summary: Cas comes back from the Empty to a Dean who won’t stop playing gay chicken.

Why I love it: They are both such petty, insane weirdos in this one. They said „can every situation be turned into a squabble“ and didn’t wait for an answer. So funny, so tender

Special mention: Wedding Vows and Negotiations by GingerFail (6K)

That's it, enjoy and leave your writers some much-deserved love!

[chthonic-cassandra]

hello my friend! currently rereading dracula, as you know, and wondered if you have any recs for where to start with criticism about the novel? 🖤

This question makes me so happy! <3

I am dreadfully out of date on this, but I can certainly give you places to start; these are not all necessarily recommendations for criticism I like (there's precious little of that), but more introductions to classic criticism in the field.

The classics

The Norton Critical Edition of Dracula (edited by Nina Auerbach and David J. Skal), alongside the Cambridge Companion to Dracula, are both good introductions which collect representative examples of some of the most popular scholarly strains of thought on the novel. When someone asks me to recommend an edition of Dracula to start with, I always suggest the Norton.

Leonard Wolf (who was not Virginia Woolf's husband, but who was one of Anne Rice's college professors) was one of the most important voices in the critical reevaluation of Dracula which started in the 1970's. I often disagree with him (so much so that I once wrote a fic about how much I disagree with him), but his annotated edition of Dracula was my first. His important works are A Dream of Dracula and Dracula: A Connoisseur's Guide. He (along with Radu Florescu and Raymond McNally) was an important early proponent of the "Dracula is Vlad Tepes" theory, which was hotly opposed by...

Elizabeth Miller, ornery grand dame of Dracula criticism. She is extremely invested in being the most reasonable and the least prone to flights of fancy of all the critics, which means she does often say useful things, but she's also a little boring. She's best known for Dracula: Sense and Nonsense, but it's more a litany of complaints than actually analysis. Her books in general have useful primary source stuff.

Once you get into analysis of Dracula reception and adaptions, then I can with a full heart recommend David J. Skal's Hollywood Gothic, full of delightful trivia, which was truly Skal's strength.

Recommendations I more stand by:

Donald Glover's Vampires, Mummies, and Liberals: Bram Stoker and the Politics of Popular Fiction is one of the very few works of Dracula criticism that I thought actually dealt in any kind of thoughtful way with the racial politics of the book.

Christy Desmet's essay on Ophelia, Ellen Terry, and Dracula, collected in Shakespearean Gothic, was excellent and I still think about it; the whole collection is very much worth reading.

Loved Ann-Louise Kibbie's Transfusion: Blood and Sympathy in the Nineteenth Century Literary Imagination, which isn't all about Dracula but obviously deals substantially with it.

As a teenager I had a lot of fun reading the uploaded issues of The Journal of Dracula Studies and sometimes fantasized about submitting something to them while concealing my age/lack of higher education to see what happened (I never did). I remember feeling very vindicated by Katharina Mewald's "The Emancipation of Mina?" but don't know how it would hold up now. I haven't kept up with the most recent issues (perhaps I will start!) but at a glance there seem to be some interesting things.

ETA forgot about Allison Case's Plotting Women: Gender and Narration in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century Novel! Good Mina material, comparing her with Marian in Woman in White.

[royaltysimblr]

Ophelia of Lausanne, Queen of Windenburg (1620-1673) - Part 1

Hey guys! So over the last three months I've been working on the life story of Ophelia of Lausanne, one of the Queen Consorts of Windenburg during the 1600s and I've made a LOT of renders of her so I just thought I should share about her life :)

read about her BELOW

Princess Ophelia Thérèse Marie Hélène Françoise of Lausanne was born on August 27th, 1620, to Louis Henri II, Prince of Lausanne, and Princess Marie Thérèse of Magnolia. Ophelia’s paternal grandparents were Charles Joseph, Prince of Lausanne, and Princess Isabella of Calabria. Her maternal grandparents were King Louis IX of Magnolia and Princess Elizabeth of Windenburg.

 Ophelia was born at Chateau de Angouleme, King Louis IX’s favorite country residence. At the time of Ophelia’s birth, her father had been overthrown as Prince of Lausanne and sought sanctuary at his father-in-law’s court. Ophelia’s mother, Princess Marie Thérèse, was King Louis' favorite daughter. The King was delighted with the birth of his granddaughter and organized several court entertainments in honor of her birth. Ophelia and her family initially lived with the King and traveled with the court between the King’s numerous residences. The Royal Governess, Marie Charlotte de Rohan, cared for Ophelia and her cousins during her infancy. 

Throughout the 1600s, religious conflicts had plagued the continent which resulted in Lausanne being occupied by Peteran Forces. In 1623 after the conclusion of the War of Religion, the Treaty of Emden restored Ophelia's father to his throne. Ophelia and her family returned to Lausanne later that year and resided at the Chateau Moren. Ophelia was joined by two younger siblings who survived to adulthood, Prince Henri, and Prince Maurice. Despite residing in Lausanne, Ophelia, and her family often visited her grandfather, the King of Magnolia. Princess Marie Thérèse appointed her close friend and childhood companion, the Marquise de Villars, as governess of her children. Ophelia had a simple education, very typical of princesses of the time. Ophelia learned multiple languages, was a skilled musician and dancer, and learned horseback riding. She had a strict Jacoban education, overseen by the Bishop of Lausanne. Ophelia had a close relationship with her brothers who she would correspond with for the rest of her life. Many letters survive between her and her grandfather, detailing their close relationship with one another. On her 13th birthday, her grandfather, the King of Magnolia, gifted her ten stallions and a golden state carriage which currently is in the Windenburg Royal Collection and is used during official events.

Ophelia was considered beautiful and intelligent. She was a skilled musician and singer, enjoyed reading, and spoke seven languages. She was an accomplished woman for her time period and was extremely athletic. As a granddaughter of the King of Magnolia, she was considered a desirable bride by the Jacoban monarchs of the continent.

[soft-baby-punk]

i added my saltburn pieces to my INPRNT shop, idk if anyone would even want prints or stickers but anywayyyyy posting here anyway lol

[limesquares]

POINTS!! I SEE A TINY PUMPKIN IT IS TINY PUMPKIN SEASON (happy tiny pumpkin season Lime!!) Do you think we can put some pumpkins around Regan's enclosure (lab) for enrichment. Alternatively Ophelia's, I don't know her thoughts on tiny delightful pumpkins but she deserves them, (it's been awesome seeing everything you've been posting lately, as always!!)

EHEHE YES!!!! i have acquired a hat.

Funny you say that, because I've also been waiting for an excuse to draw.... THIS. BEHOLD, A BABY SQUASH.

[rax-writes]

I went looking for trouble… and boy, I found her.

Xavier Thorpe x Reader

warnings:  reader is a member of the Frump family (Morticia’s twin’s daughter) but no physical description is given, SMUT (MINORS DNI), slightly dom!Xavier, blood kink, unprotected sex, public sex / slight exhibitionism (but no one is around), brief choking, oral and fingering (f!receiving), p in v sex, porn with a bit of plot

Being the daughter of a pastel-loving, effervescent flower child such as Ophelia Frump was exhausting. Truth be told, she was a good mother – always doing her best to indulge in your macabre interests, or phoning her twin sister for some assistance in such endeavors – but the disconnect born from your polar opposite demeanors was ever-present.

After an incident in kindergarten that left you banned from all the local schools, you were homeschooled by private tutors. (Oh, how proud your Uncle Gomez and Aunt Morticia were – and oh, how horrified your mother was.) You had always dreamed of attending Nevermore Academy like your aunt and uncle, and being around other “outcasts,” but being that you somehow managed to always return from summers at their house even kookier and creepier than before, your mother feared what a stay at such a place would do to you. However, upon hearing that your dear cousin Wednesday would be attending the school, you had the leverage to work up some fake tears and a compelling argument to your mother about how it would benefit the poor girl to have a familiar face there with her, and off to Nevermore you went.

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

“Uh, Wednesday…?” Enid began, momentarily ignoring her breakfast to stare over her roommate’s shoulder with furrowed brows. “Do you happen to have a family member coming to visit?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because a goth version of Stevie Nicks with the same creepy, calculating look as you just walked in.”

Wednesday’s eyes widened a fraction, and she breathed your name in realization as she turned in her seat to lock eyes with you from across the Quad. Considering the bright, elated smile that crossed your face as Wednesday rushed to greet you, Enid noted then that you must be a bit more in the realm of “normal” than your pigtail-wearing family member. Although, Enid doubted that anyone in Wednesday’s family could truly be considered as such.

Determined to ensure that you got a positive perspective on Nevermore, being that Wednesday would undoubtedly give a grim depiction of the school, Enid insisted on joining the two of you for the introductory tour. Enid delighted in the way you smiled at her jokes, and even told a few jokes and anecdotes of your own, some of which even brought the faintest of smiles to Wednesday’s face. By the time the group returned to the Quad, it was lunchtime, and there were twice as many students as before.

In the midst of Enid’s thorough explanation of all the trouble Wednesday had already gotten herself into in less than a fortnight at Nevermore, the conversation was interrupted.

“Hey, Enid, have you seen – woah.”

The stunned whisper marked the abrupt end of the sentence of the young man who had jogged over to your table as you turned to face him. He just stared at you with wide, sage green eyes that seemed to look straight into your soul. And you stared right back, taking in the deep emerald hue of his irises, how pretty his lips looked, the light brown hair that brushed against his shoulders.

“Whenever you two are done mentally undressing one another, I would suggest introducing yourselves.”

Wednesday’s deadpan interruption of the tense silence caused him to look away, and shake his head as though to clear his mind, which brought a smirk to your face. He found you just as attractive as you found him. How delightful.

“Uh, sorry. I’m Xavier Thorpe,” he stated, reaching out to shake your hand. You did the same, but he then appeared confused. “Frump? I thought you’d be an Addams, judging from how similar you seem to Wednesday.”

“She’s a cousin from my mother’s side. Her mother is my Aunt Ophelia, the white sheep of the family,” Wednesday explained.

“Don’t you mean ‘black sheep’?” Xavier inquired.

“No,” you and Wednesday both replied in unison.

“My mother is exceptionally fond of… color,” you explained, saying the word as though it were something morally reprehensible. “She decorates with the most abrasive array of bright, colorful maximalism you can possibly imagine. Wednesday visited once, and went into anaphylactic shock the moment she walked in the door. She spent three days in the hospital.”

“It was deeply unpleasant,” the grayscale girl added earnestly, then shuddered as one typically does after seeing a repulsive insect.

“Ah,” Xavier said with a chuckle. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. Hopefully you’re more fond of Nevermore than your cousin, and hopefully we’ll be friends.”

A devilish smile spread across your lips. “We’re not going to be friends.”

From anyone else, it would have sounded insulting. But the way you said it sounded more like a promise, and fuck, did it thrill Xavier.

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

Naturally, you were right.

Which is how you found yourself desecrating the perfectly manicured lawn in the Nevermore gardens, Xavier’s head between your thighs, his soft hair tied back as his hands, mouth, and tongue caused you to see stars despite the cloudy night sky.

Although the arms keeping you propped up was weak, it was worth fighting the ache in your biceps to see him devour you. He did it so ravenously, yet with so much intention; always mindful of which motions brought out the shrillest whines or sharpest gasps, and doing them repeatedly, until you were a panting, whimpering mess.

When Xavier could tell you were getting close, from how ragged your breathing was and the incoherent muttering of “gods, please, please, Xavier, please,” he spared a glance at you to take in the positively wrecked look on your face. The way his emerald eyes bore into yours, just as they had the very first time you met him – you were a goner. You bit your lip so hard you tasted the familiar metallic taste of blood, to avoid waking the entire castle with your cries of pleasure.

The groan that left Xavier at the taste of you sent vibrations through your overstimulated flesh, causing you to jerk violently, and he then took pity on you and leaned back on his heels with a wicked grin. Seeing him leaning back like that, smirking as he unbuckled his belt, was truly a sight you never wanted to forget.

“God, I love that you’re always so pretty and put-together, and everything you do or say is so poised and perfect – but every single time I get my hands on you, I get to see this fucked-out version of you,” Xavier mused, shoving his pants and boxers down past his knees as you stared at his pretty cock with glassy, hungry eyes. He leaned down then, caging you in with his arms, before one hand reached up to grab your jaw – a bit forcefully, just the way he knew you liked it. “All for me. All mine. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his tip at your entrance. “All yours, my darling.”

“Good girl,” Xavier replied with a grin, before releasing your jaw to guide himself into you. He eased himself in slowly, allowing you to feel every inch of him, but once he was all the way inside, he drew his hips back, then thrust himself in again, fast and hard. Thankfully, he had the foresight to clamp his free hand over your mouth, muffling the loud, obscene moan that tumbled from your lips.

The psychic set an unrelenting pace, having been too turned on while eating you out to take his time with you. He had become far too addicted to getting you off to be selfish about it, though. So, in stark contrast to the fast pace of his hips slamming into yours, he slowly trailed his hand down from your mouth to your throat, giving it a firm squeeze and earning a moan from you, before continuing the descent until his arm wound itself around your lower back. Xavier used it to prop up your hips just a bit – enough to hit that particular spot deep inside you that had you biting your lip again, the taste of blood momentarily flooding your senses again.

As you wrapped your legs around him and hooked your high heel-clad ankles behind his back – knowing full well how much he adored that – he groaned, low in his throat, and leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss, not minding that they were covered in crimson. When Xavier broke the kiss, and you saw your blood coating his plump lips, the burning intensity in his eyes, all while his cock hit your sweet spot again and again and again – your orgasm hit you like a freight train, and you came with a soft, breathless cry of his name and your sharp black nails raking down his back.

“Oh, fuck,” Xavier moaned, low and gravely, immediately following suit, and the sensation of his release filling you up was nearly enough to make you come again.

The arm under your back released you to help Xavier prop himself up, and he was a vision. Eyes closed, brows slightly furrowed, lips still tinted red with the blood from the cuts on your lips, and a thin sheen of sweat across his forehead, neck, and chest as he basked in the afterglow, still buried inside of you.

Unable to resist, you simultaneously squeezed his cock with your lower muscles and gingerly raked your nails along his sides. Xavier shuddered from over-sensitivity and pulled out of you with a hiss, unable to handle the feeling. He leveled you with a glare, only to be met with a sinister smile.

“You’re evil.”

“Thank you.”

Xavier chuckled breathlessly, before standing to quickly fix his boxers, pants, and belt. He then grabbed the hoodie he’d worn to your rendezvous, and kneeled in front of you to tidy you up with it. Always the gentleman, you thought with another smile as he balled the hoodie up to hide the mess from anyone you may encounter on the walk back, then extended his hand to you. He hoisted you up off the ground without much effort, and as you both moved to fix your dress, you noticed in unison that your legs were still shaking from your orgasm.

Xavier merely held up his hands in surrender and said nothing as he reached down to grab his t-shirt, but that shit-eating grin was still on his pretty lips – along with the blood.

The two of you locked eyes, and just as Xavier smiled and opened his mouth to make an undoubtedly cocky, smart-ass comment, you held up a finger and warned, “Silence, or I’ll hex you.”

“Oh, but my love, you’ve already bewitched me,” Xavier said dramatically, holding a hand over his heart to further his theatrics.

“Mhmm,” you replied dryly, although you failed to fully hide your smile. “How about you just put your shirt on and walk me back to my room, Shakespeare. I’ve got a potion to brew.”

“I would also advise you to wipe your mouth. You look more like a vampire than a psychic at the moment.”

He appeared confused, but did as you bade him, and the implication of your words dawned on him as he saw the blood on the back of his hand. Evidently, in his lust-fueled haze, he hadn’t even realized he was kissing your bloody lips. Then, a lightbulb visibly went off in his mind.

“Wait, you liked that, didn’t you?” he asked, stunned. He had seemingly pieced together that you finished right after he kissed you and you saw the blood on his lips.

“Indeed.”

As you so often did, you somewhat expected him to shun you – to be appalled or horrified by you, as most typically were, for some reason or another. It was a very common experience for members of your family.

But, as always, he did nothing of the sort. He was entirely unphased. In fact, the corner of his lips turned up slightly, and Xavier merely replied, “Noted. Just promise you won’t dump me for a vamp. Since, you know, they’ve usually got blood on them, and it’s more of a rare occurrence for me.”

“You have my word,” you responded with a warm smile.

Xavier draped his arm over your shoulders, and the two of you began walking back to the academy, leaving the newly-christened gardens behind you.

“Have I told you how much I love those contraceptive potions of yours?” Xavier mused, with a happy sigh only a man who’d just finished inside a woman could produce.

“Every time we have intercourse, yes.”

“Hm…. Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Also yes, but I never tire of hearing that one.”

“Good, because I love you.”

“And I love you, Xavier.”

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

➼ this fic could be considered a part two

[flowerandblood]

Girl with a Pearl Earring

[modern! photographer • Aemond x female]

[warnings: dirty talk, domination, sexual tension, fluff]

[description: Aemond is a photographer dealing with works referring to the painting of the old masters. His sister poses in class for a girl who catches his attention. He decides that she would be a perfect model for one of his photos. Lots of sexual tension and slowly built fascination.]

Part 2 - Magdalene with the Smoking Flame

Part 3 - Ophelia

Part 4 - Lady with an Ermine

Part 5 - Rokeby Venus (End)

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

_____

It's been a long time since there was such a beautiful model in a painting class as Helaena Targaryen. With her fair, almost white hair, slender, fair face, snub nose, and blue eyes, she looked like an angel. She was able to create an amazing hairstyle with her combed braids.

The students and the professor decided to dress her in a blue gown, borrowed from costume designers from a nearby theater, in the style of seventeenth-century French fashion. Behind her was a large yellow background falling into the shade of warm gold. Even as herself, sitting half-profile towards them, she looked like a painting.

She had a great connection with her right away and they talked a lot. She knew that Helaena was the daughter of the dean of the university, a famous furniture maker and sculptor. Their entire family was famous for their strong commitment to the arts. She knew that Helaena's brother, Aemond, was in the fifth year of photography.

She was in her second year of painting and knew most of the people in his major - they often traded lecture halls - but he was always completely withdrawn. She had never seen him talk to anyone, he was always the first to leave the classroom.

Several girls from her year tried to flirt with him and get his attention, but their attempts ended in total failure. Still, she felt it wasn't fair that they were talking about him behind his back after being rejected. She tried not to express an opinion about him, because she didn't know him.

Even though it was known how Helaena got this temporary job, no one held any grudges about it because she bravely endured hours of posing without flinching. She decided to paint her portrait in the style of the Italian masters, starting with a monochromatic underpainting, applying the color with glazes in delicate layers. She was just starting to apply color to her face, making the character's face seem to emerge from the sketch around it.

The professor called a break and everyone got up to stretch a bit. Helaena stepped down from the platform and approached her, wanting to see how she was doing, as usual. She was delighted to see that the work was slowly moving to an advanced stage.

"What you do is amazing. You have real talent!” She said with her hand over her heart, playing with the chain. She smiled warmly at her.

They were talking for a while about ways of painting and different types of portraits when suddenly Aemond entered their room. He was looking for his sister with his eye, and when he saw her he walked towards her, greeting only the professor on the way.

"Ah, Aemond, thank you." Helaena said as he handed her apparently her own phone. "I had completely forgotten about him. Come closer, do you want to see how beautiful my new friend paints?” Helaena asked happily and she looked down in embarrassment. She guessed he didn't want to, but out of politeness he came over and stood behind them.

He literally said nothing. She glanced at him uncertainly over her shoulder and met his intense gaze which almost scared her. She blinked and opened her mouth slightly, then closed it, wondering if she should say something. She turned her head away, swallowing softly.

"Beautiful, isn't it? It makes me look like a baroque countess." Helaena said happily, looking at her brother.

Aemond only grunted, nodded, and stepped around her easel as he left the room. She looked at Helaena slightly shocked, but she seemed completely unfazed by his behavior.

"Is he always like this?" She asked quietly, wondering what had just happened. Helena laughed.

"Yes, he is very economical with words."

***

She entered the painting room first. She liked to look at her paintings from a distance before going back to work. When she looked at it with fresh eyes, she suddenly noticed all the mistakes she hadn't seen the day before.

It immediately caught her eye that she had painted one of the eyes a little too close to the nose. She immediately grabbed the brush, mixing the paints properly, wanting to fix it without even waiting for the model to show up.

She heard someone enter the room and, thinking it was Helaena, greeted loudly. Surprised after a while that no one answered her, she leaned over the easel and realized surprised, that her brother was standing in front of her.

Aemond, as usual, was dressed all in black. His black turtleneck emphasized his slender, long face and long, blond hair partly pulled back. He looked at her expectantly, as if he wanted to say something. She blinked, wondering what he might be looking for here, and suddenly it dawned on her.

“Helaena hasn't arrived yet, she'll probably be here in a few minutes. Should I tell her something?" She asked softly and smiled warmly at him. She decided that she would not be guided by the opinion of others and would form her own opinion about him.

Aemond turned his head, staring out the window, his mouth tight. He tapped his fingers on the sill as if thinking hard. After a moment he looked at her suddenly.

"Pose for me." He said indifferently, looking at her with a stony face. She sucked in a breath, completely taken aback by his proposal. She blinked, putting down her brush, looking at him curiously. She's never stood on the other side, modeling for someone.

“I take photos stylized as copies of paintings by old masters. I'd like you to pose for me as a Vermeer Girl with a Pearl Earring." He explained, apparently wanting to make it clear that he didn't mean the act or anything else that might seem inappropriate to her. She smiled widely.

"Very willingly! That sounds great. Will I also have to prepare the appropriate costume for this?" She asked, clearly excited, stepping closer to him. Aemond stared at her, surprised by her energy.

"No, that won't be necessary. I'll get you something." He said looking at her face thoughtfully. She blinked.

“I can sew well, and a lot of photography is about making the fabric look real. I can take care of it, I used to sew some historical costumes as a hobby.” She said lightly, looking at him expectantly. Aemond stared at her, clearly amazed at her commitment. He didn't seem to know what to say to her for a moment, because he hadn't expected such a pleased reaction.

“Well … if you want, of course, you can sew something. I'll bring something too. I will book a photo studio for next friday. Will you make it by then?" He asked softly, clearly appeased by the way she was acting.

"Yes, I will."

***

She was incredibly excited about his proposal. They exchanged phone numbers in case the studio was busy that day or needed to contact each other for other details about the shoot.

She had no idea why he chose her or what he saw in her, but she was very pleased that he wanted her to pose for him. She always dreamed of being someone's model, and she knew he was a talented photographer.

His pictures were really miniatures put in huge frames, almost like paintings. His photos, although colorful, had a kind of noise and blur that made the photo look old. He probably used special plates and exposure methods for this, but she wasn't very familiar with it. However, she knew that he was great at capturing the moment, chiaroscuro and color. There was something painterly about his photographs.

She spent one afternoon wandering around second-hand clothing stores where fabrics could be found cheaply. She was pleased that she had found everything she needed.

When she got home, she turned on her sewing machine, sewing a brown blouse for herself, and what she couldn't sew on the machine she sewed by hand.

She looked at herself in the mirror, looking at the effect of her work and decided that everything looked great. The fabrics she chose were soft and draped smoothly without looking artificial. She suddenly realized that she was missing the most important thing - a pearl earring. The pictures were to be taken the very next day, so she texted him quickly, scared.

[Y]: "I completely forgot that I need an earring, and I can't buy anything at this hour!"

After a few minutes, she saw that she had received a reply.

[Aemond]: "I was able to find a virtually identical pair of earrings at one of the pawnshops. I also have some fabrics if needed."

She took a quick portrait photo of her reflection and sent it to him along with the message.

[Y]: "I don't think any additional materials will be necessary."

He didn't write back to her for a long time. She got scared that he didn't like what she had created and started to worry. She jumped as her display lit up and she got a new message.

[Aemond]: "Well done."

***

She entered the studio at the time stated, looking around. Aemond was already inside, apparently adjusting the lighting. He just glanced at her and went back to working on setting the lamp.

"Close the door." He said coldly. She dutifully did as he asked and placed her backpack on one of the chairs against the wall. She took out all the materials she had prepared. She looked at him uncertainly.

"Can I change somewhere?" She asked quietly. Aemond looked at her in surprise and cleared his throat.

"Yes, you have a small storage room on the other side." He said, pointing to the opposite side of the room. "The door is open."

She nodded and quickly walked into the small room. With resignation she found that there was no mirror in it. There was no problem with putting on the shirts, but she had some issues with tying the bonnet and scarf.

Resigned, she poked her head out of the door, searching for him. He was looking through the camera at the place where she was supposed to be sitting.

"I need your help. I can't see if I tied it properly." She said pointing to the fabric on her head. Aemond motioned for her to come closer.

"Sit down. Here, like this.” He said, turning her with his hand, so that her body sat in profile to him. When he touched her with his large, cool hand, she shivered.

She watched him from below as he busied himself with tidying up her headgear. He glanced once in a while at the printed reproduction of the painting on the floor in front of him to get it right.

After a while he seemed pleased with the result. He handed her a pearl earring, and she put it on, empathizing with the person she was about to be. Aemond pulled away, took the camera in his hands and looked through the lens.

"Turn your head slightly towards me. No, not that much. Oh, that's right. Open your mouth slightly." He said matter-of-factly and suddenly she heard the sound of the camera shutter. Aemond pursed his lips.

"Don't look at me with such terrified eyes. Relax." He said and she swallowed softly, squeezed her eyes shut and tried to pull herself together.

This time she tried to keep her gaze soft. Aemond took the picture again. He pulled back and looked at her thoughtfully. His gaze was intense and he seemed to be thinking about something.

"Lick your lips." He said suddenly. She shivered at his words and looked at him in surprise, thinking she had misheard.

"What?" She asked quietly. Aemond looked at her expectantly.

"Rub your lips with your tongue. So that they shine." He recommended.

She felt her heart pounding. She blushed, ashamed and pursed her mouth, not looking at him, her tongue running slowly over her lips. She looked at him and saw that he swallowed softly.

He walked over to her and lowered the material of her shirt so that it showed more of her neck. She felt his fingers brush over her bare skin and gasped, wondering if he had done it on purpose. She looked at him and saw a shadow pass over his face.

"Yes. Look at me like that." He said, looking quickly through the lens. She lowered her eyes, embarrassed, feeling the tension in her whole body.

"Don't look away. Look at me. That's how you're supposed to look at me." He said in a tone that conveyed some kind of arousal and desire that made her shiver. She looked at him, her eyes hazy and slightly dreamy.

"Open your mouth." He ordered in a low voice, and when she did, he immediately took a series of photos of her.

"God, yes. Just like that." He said with a delight that made her even more embarrassed.

She lowered her eyelids, feeling her cheeks burn, pressing her lips together. Aemond looked at her with a mixture of admiration and something she couldn't name.

"Pose for me more often. I will pay you." He said suddenly and she looked at him surprised. She swallowed loudly.

"I… you don't have to pay me." She spluttered, looking away from him, looking down at her hands. She didn't know what was happening to her. She could feel his intense gaze on her, her heart pounding like crazy.

"Is that all?" She asked suddenly without looking at him.

Silence answered her. She heard him swallow hard.

"…yes, that's all." He spoke low, with a note of unreasonable uncertainty in his voice. She nodded and got up without looking at him, heading to the room where her things were.

She took off her costume and only now felt her hands tremble. She wondered what had just happened between them. She felt as if something inexplicable, artistic, intense and sensual had developed between them.

She left the room as soon as she was done. Aemond looked at her, obviously tense, looking at her expectantly. They looked at each other in silence.

"When can I see the result of your work?" She asked softly and saw him flinch as if he was thinking of something completely different, and her question brought him back to earth.

"On exhibition in two weeks." He said calmly, looking away. There was silence between them for a moment.

"Shall I go now?" She asked quietly, not knowing if he needed her for anything else. He looked at her in surprise and hesitated for a moment.

"Yes…yes, thank you, you can go." He said low. She nodded, said goodbye and left, closing the door behind her.

***

Aemond and she hadn't spoken to each other since the photos were taken. She saw him stare at her as they passed, but neither of them dared to speak. She wondered if he felt what she felt then too. She thought resignedly that his proposal was probably already out of date, but she had no intention of pestering him.

Helaena encouraged her to go with her to the exhibition. She had lost her will, but what Helaena said shocked her.

"Are you kidding? Your photo is at the center of his part of this exhibition. In the middle of the wall, in a beautiful frame, spotlit, the rest of his works are on the walls on the sides. This is probably his most beautiful picture!”

She blushed at her words and bowed her head. Her words made her feel that despite her fears she had to see it live.

What he saw on the other side of the lens.

That evening, she and Helaena arranged to meet outside the hall. She didn't want to go there alone, knowing that few people she knew would be there. She was grateful that she wanted to keep her company.

They went inside together, there were a lot of guests inside, talking intensely about something. The exhibition consisted of a series of works by several artist photographers, including Aemond. She noted with interest that her painting professor was also among the crowd.

At the very beginning there was a speech by the patron who funded the exhibition. He talked a bit about the assumptions of the exhibition, their artists and the works themselves. After it was over, as people rushed to fetch glasses of wine dispersing to explore, she saw with a lump in her throat what Helaena was talking about.

On the other side of the room hung her portrait. She had to get very close to it becasue photography was small in size, about the size of a notebook page.

The photo was slightly hazy, but sharp at the same time as if you could feel the air that was filling the studio at the time. She was delighted to see that indeed, the colors of her outfit perfectly reflected the saturation of those in the original painting.

She felt both awe and shame as she looked at her face. Her glossy lips were gently parted as if she was exhaling softly. Her gaze was warm, hazy, full of some unspoken, intense feeling.

She gave the impression that she wanted to say something to the viewer, as if she was already opening her mouth to say the words. She thought it was indeed a great photo and barely recognized herself in it.

She swallowed hard as she saw that indeed, her gold-framed picture was the only one on the main wall, the rest of his work was more closely spaced on the side walls. He clearly made this work the focus of his exhibition.

She looked curiously at his other works, and saw that they too alluded to the works of the old masters. She flinched as she heard a low voice behind her.

"What do you think?" Aemond asked, standing literally inches from her. He was so close she could feel his hot breath. She looked at him over her shoulder, confused.

"It's beautiful." She said softly. Aemond looked down at her, his gaze dark. He took a sip of wine from his glass, looking at her searchingly.

“I agreed with my professor on the subject of my diploma thesis. I want you to pose for me for female portraits like this one." He spoke calmly and matter-of-factly. She opened her mouth in surprise and blinked rapidly.

"I… I'd be very happy if I could help you." She said softly and smiled warmly, trying to control her facial expressions and her trembling heart.

Aemond looked at her intently. He pursed his lips, apparently debating whether or not to say what he was thinking.

"Be my muse."

_____

I decided that I wanted to write something that would be a one-shot and I came up with this idea. I really like what came out of it and I'm curious about your opinion. Let me know if you'd like it to be a mini series with other paintings in the background. If you want to be tagged, leave a comment below. ♥

@zenka69 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff

[fandoms-in-law]

Cousin of a Cousin

Author's note: I'm still loving the Addams Family but since I've got Ophelia's son ongoing I can't fit Abigail in how I want to over there. This is my attempt to get some of that gone

Summary: Morticia and Gomez have callers come, who say they're looking for some decent relatives for one of them.

/\/\

Morticia wasn’t quite sure what to make of the pair that had come to call, but they’d gratefully accepted the henbane tea when it was offered and were very curious over the stories behind their decorations.

Gomez was quite enjoying entertaining the pair, having already asked Steve if he was interested in zen yogi and started showing him a few easy poses to relax in. He was loathe to disrupt such a peaceful afternoon but had to ask eventually, “So what brings you to call upon us, delighted though we are to meet you?”

“We’re trying to find out if Steve has any relatives that are decent people. It’s been quite difficult, but Nancy found out you’re the cousins of one of his cousins. I’m not sure if there’s any blood relation between you but good company for Steve was difficult to find for many years.” Eddie explained easily, head twisting as he spoke since both Gomez and Steve were in headstands at that moment. He’d fallen multiple times before giving up the attempt.

“Oh? Who were the cousins we share?” Morticia asked genially.

Steve’s face twisted, “I don’t think you get along with them. It was an Abigail Adams Nancy mentioned first. Very focused on appearances without much kindness or decency beyond that.”

“We know the woman. She’s forbidden from this house after trying to claim Gomez’s due.” Her voice had darkened with a condemning ring to it.

Eddie laughed, “We’d do the same, but I think Nance has some plans of some sort. She’s good at tripping people into their own downfall now.”

“We never do that, but you’re welcome to try given how much she’s plotted ours.” Gomez agreed cheerfully.

“Oh, guests? What don’t we do?” Fester came into the room, looking at Steve and Eddie curious.

Gomez flipped over, a hand coming to rest on Eddie’s shoulder while Steve also righted himself. “This is Eddie Munson and Cousin Steve who just located us through an unfortunate shared cousin of Abigail Adams. Apparently their friend Nancy is plotting Abigail’s downfall.”

“She’s gonna shoot her in the back? But I wanted to do that?” Fester huffed, going to pick the shotgun up as if Abigail was with them.

Steve shook his head. “Probably not, though she is a very good shot. Nancy currently prefers attacking through journalism. If the press are sharks, then she’s a great white.”

“She sounds wonderful.” Morticia proclaimed. “Next time you call she must come with you. Do you have many friends like her?”

Eddie immediately nodded, “All of them.”

“Most of us only through necessity.” Steve chided, “Have you heard of Hawkins before?”

“Heard of it? Why I’m working on building my investments in the town so I can visit for any more freak disasters.” Gomez declared, “It’s had an exciting time of it and we want to be there the next time something happens. Murderers and Shock Earthquakes and Mysterious chemical spills from labs. Oh it must be a splendid place to live, but there’s no decent architecture there for us to make a home of.”

Morticia clapped her hands smiling, “Is that where you live?”

Eddie and Steve were sharing bewildered looks but nodded slowly, “Yes, in fact we were involved with a lot of those events, at the mall burning down, if you didn’t hear about that.” Steve replied, pausing at their delighted gasps.

“I was even accused of the murders. Steve and his friends found me and sorted that out.” Eddie added, grinning in shock when the couple seemed delighted. “Though we were wondering about moving away from Hawkins now. Most of the group have done for schooling and Steve’s been pouting since Robin left.”

“No sir, a treasure like property in Hawkins must be cannot be abandoned merely for loneliness. I’ll see if some of our other cousins might join you to keep company.” Gomez insisted.

Morticia however was looking intently at Steve now, “And who is Robin? A fiance, perhaps?”

“No, no, we’re platonic soulmates but have both decided that we’ll avoid marriage until the law permits us to marry who we wish.” Steve shook his head, wondering if he’d said too much, even as Eddie reached out to hold the hand nearest him.

“Who you wish?” She repeated, watching, “And might that be Eddie? There is an energy between you, a je ne sais quoi that shows you’re closer than most friends.”

“Tish, that’s French!” Gomez exclaimed, grabbing her arm to kiss along it.

Steve bit his lip to avoid snorting at the display since it reminded him of how enthused Eddie could get if he mentioned anything about DnD correctly. “Yes, we are together. Would you prefer us to leave you for a while?”

“Much obliged. Come for bridge or tea or something later.” Gomez agreed, barely glancing up from ravishing Morticia’s arms.

Morticia reached out to ring the bell. “Lurch, please show Eddie and Steve out and let them know the time to come back for bridge.”

Eddie startled to see the towering butler behind them, “Nice meeting you, Morticia and Gomez. See you later.” He called, hurrying back.

Steve laughed after him but also led the way out when Lurch gestured for him to.