#oh wait that might work….
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found the inquisitor anders tag on ao3 and now the idea has possessed my mind and i think when i replay dai it will be as anders but that also means i have to play a fucking mage which is against my gaming code
#it’s not actually cause technically jedi are mages#but fuuuuuuuuuuufk i hate playing magic it’s not the same feeling as mashing buttons to swing swords#au where anders is made tranquil but still brought to the conclave and this shit happens 👀👀👀#oh wait that might work….#amnesia…..#i may have fixed this for myself#queued dec 19/22
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Literally no thoughts just Gojo after your wedding carrying you over the threshold of your hotel room. You’re not leaving for your honeymoon until the morning but he nearly trips on the doorframe in his haste.
“You really don’t need to carry me—”
“But it’s tradition, we need to consummate the marriage!” he insists. Within seconds his lips are against yours and he’s fumbling with the light switch, and you finally swat his hand away and just beg him to take you to the bed.
He works the zipper of your dress down, part of him sad that he’s not going to see you in this gorgeous gown again, but then it reveals your white lace lingerie and the groan he lets out is broken and guttural and desperate.
This is far from the first time he’s seen you like this, but there’s something about this moment here and now that makes it so much more intense, so much more intimate and he just never wants to let you go.
“Satoru,” you whisper, and his breath hitches.
He leans down to capture your lips in a kiss. “Shh, I know. Just lemme take care of you, like I promised.”
And when he sees the gold band on his fourth finger pressing into the skin of your hips as he sheaths himself inside of you, he nearly loses himself, sending up a prayer to whatever gods are listening that he can keep his promise to keep you safe and happy forever.
#I’m so drunk rn I’m sorry if this is incoherent#I just came home from a wedding and am feeling so sappy#also I have to be up tomorrow at 6am for work#can’t wait to be hungover 🫶🏼#anyway marrying Gojo would be amazing#I love him and I just wanna kiss him and hold him and let him know how special he is#oh god I’m gonna be so embarrassed and might delete this when I wake up#so revel in it now I guess?#idk it’s probably not good lol#gojo x reader#Gojo Satoru x reader#gojo x reader fluff#Gojo x reader smut#Gojo Satoru x reader smut#jjk smut#gojo smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen#Gojo Satoru#jujutsu kaisen x reader
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some downtime doodling
#artists on tumblr#sketchbook stuff#particularly proud of the horse one haha#uhhhh been in a big hermit mode lately mfhfhg#haven't drawn a lot but still making things aka rug hooking haha#might post those next time? or wip of the one I'm working on#we'll see#kinda just wanted to draw without the whole mindset for me of 'oh wait gotta look up ref/plan stuff out'#anyways#-crawls back into the abyss-
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for @hamartia-grander ‘s fic Another Time 🧡
this scene in the epilogue got me 🙃 i love them.
#It’s funny cause I had been working on this sketch a couple of weeks ago and got distracted. then I read your epilogue and was like OH SHIT#that opening scene was so cute and i remembered i had this sketch so i ran to tweak it to fit#it was fate 💕#or we shared a brainwave ✨#it’s not exact to the scene of course 😅#but same feels and vibes I hope#serennedy#serennedy fanart#leon kennedy#luis serra navarro#resident evil 4#resident evil fanart#your fic was soooo good and I’m absolutely in love with it!#can’t wait for the next thing 🤩#and again.. might not be the same looks you had in mind ( i could not for the life of me remember if Leon was blonde)#but its the brain image I got in mind#a little grown out blonde lol#and they might’ve been wearing clothes lol#but Leon with stubble.. here for it
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Y'ALL. Y'ALL so for a long time I've believed that "the sun" in Meursault's story is Carmen, and I went to check Hell's Chicken's dialogue to see exactly how he said that he'd dealt with distortions before, and... you know what else he said?
To my knowledge, it is a phenomenon where an individual morphs into a form often unfit to be considered “human”. It has no known causes, and the appearances were all different.
Unfit to be considered human.
Meursault, who, in his book, was judged by the court to be soulless.
Meursault, who has EGO for Cyborgs who have been so mutilated they barely act like people anymore; a murderer who was experimented on until ceasing to be human; a sheep named after Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, a novel about the humanity of androids and the inhumanity of humans; and now a rose that can't help its bloodsucking nature, based on Carmilla, a vampire whose story emphasized the duality between her vampiric traits and her human ones.
Meursault, who answered Heathcliff's ironic question of if he had metal for brains like this:
I'm placing my bets now, that line from Hell's Chicken is foreshadowing for Meursault's canto even more than "I have witnessed a number of [distortion] cases in the past" was
#limbus company#project moon#meursault#sorry of my info on carmilla is off i still havent read the book#me post#CLARIFYING IN THE TAGS: MEURSAULT IS HUMAN#it would be a disservice to his character and honestly pretty gross if he ended up not being human#the entire point is that he IS human and that other people perceive him as otherwise because of how he behaves#so I guess theoretically if he did distort it would exacerbate the issue?#extremely speculative but there are distortions who can behave pretty normally while distorted#like the marksman of the mist (and also some of the reverb ensemble but those people are all full of issues WAYYY bigger than marksman was)#if meursault was one of those...#someone calling him unfit to be human. it's fine it definitely won't leave a scar on his psyche#i think in his canto there might end up being something about how even though people don't see distortions as humans#distorting is a very human thing to do#anyway i think overall there's juxtaposition with him and don quixote#don isnt human and wishes she could be#meursault is human but people don't think he is#yknow despite my theories it would probably be more poignant if he DIDNT distort#them looking at him and assuming he only couldve done something like that if he distorted but he didnt#oh wait but the timeline... they probably wouldn't have known about how distorting works yet#nevermind back to the first idea#they ask why. he talks about a beautiful voice. no one knows about this yet and they all think there's something deeply wrong with him#'a beautiful voice convinced me' holds up in court about as well as 'the sun was too bright'
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rough day...
#i might come back and color this. Eventually....#scribbled this after a busy day of lots of moving things into storage and hauling boxes around#i felt a bit like a workhorse!#at some point i sat down on the uhaul w/ my water and thought. Wow. How Does Eddie Manage#poor guy deserves a break...#he needs a day off smh#i mean the neighborhood would fall apart w/o him probably but still. he needs a vacation!#he works too hard! someone tell him to prioritize himself for once!#scribble garnish#welcome home#welcome home puppet show#welcome home fanart#eddie dear#alrighty well its 12 am i need to get up in less than 6 hours and i still have Several Things To Do before i can sleep!#so! queuing this and getting those last chores done#wait fuck. what where they#well! i'll remember when i get up to do them! probably!#yknow 7 hours into tomorrow's drive im gonna be like OH FUCK I FORGOT THE [insert task here]#oh. shit did i eat dinner? hm... im not gonna be ready for breakfast when i wake up#so i might as well add 'quick cup of noodles' onto tonight's Before-Sleep list....#im rambling! sorry!#anyway i have Much affection for eddie! somebody get him a spa day and some shiny new stamps!!!
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gojo would kill your work husband. but if he were the work husband, that's a different story
REAL!! he’s such a hypocrite because if someone mentioned you had a work husband, his entire world would stop and he wold devise the absolute worst plans to make sure that your co-worker, everyone at your job, and everyone in the next building over knew that he was happily committed to you
but if he is the work husband, he’s very........ dutiful in his role. there’s a loose office/lawyer au in my head where satoru is your secretary, and for all intents and purposes, your personal assistant, and he’s good at his job, but mostly because he considers his job to be pleasing you. he has coffee for you when you arrive, he moves your schedule around without you asking, he has answers to questions before you can even ask them, he has fresh flowers on your desk weekly, pokes into your meetings to pretend to hand you a file that’s really just maybe a single document in a manilla folder with candy on top of it—he’s made himself your business, your partner; he’s made himself irreplaceable, and he loves to remind everybody of that fact.
he’s also extremely loyal. sure, he could day a week’s worth of work done in about a day, but that doesn’t mean he’ll just use his talents for anybody. he’s your secretary, so he’s at your beck and call, and everyone knows it. they know he’s the best, but also that he’s off limits—not because you won’t share him, but because satoru won’t let himself be shared.
he also extends his duties beyond work, of course. when he hands you a print out of your schedule for the day and you’re confused by the three-hour block of time you have in the middle of the day, satoru just helps you shrug your coat of your shoulders and smiles, “that’s for the lunch date you have with me, of course!” hanging up your coat in your closet for you, “i’m paying, see you soon, sweets.” and because you’re great at your job, and satoru helps you be great, nobody really questions when the two of you have time for a 13-course tasting menu at 1pm on a tuesday afternoon. and if they did, all satoru would say that you two had a lovely date
#anonymous#he's like donna from suits but worse because he's like if harvey were donna LOL#i have soooooo much to say about him#he doesn't really Have to work he's a nepotism baby supreme#but he met you maybe in undergrad? and he's been obsessed w you since#he knows youre a workaholic so he's dutifully sat by your side all these years through college through grad/professional school#and when you told him you got to hire your own assistant he was the very first applicant#because getting paid to spend his days with you and take care of you? he was already doing that for free might as well make it official#everyone in the office knows satoru loves you except you honestly#he probably has his own masters/JD but elects to be your assistant anyway bc that's so much more fun#what he Really wants to be a househusband but first he's gotta ask you out and propose and all that good stuff (cue him rolling his eyes#and going on about formalities and boring systems and blah blah blah)#also in the office au in my head: nanami (also senior partner) higuruma ofc <3 beloved (managing partner) and TOJI!#WALK WITH ME!#its honestly probably satoru's influence that gets toji into law... as someone who so feverently broke it in the past#idk maybe there's a megumi situation that makes gojo be like yk if ur this good at skirting/breaking the law youd probably be half decent#at enforcing it... or at least helping other people get around it too#and so lawyer toji is born#does he screw around w the rich people who r stupid w their money? absolutely#but you nanami and higuruma just let it be bc he brings in those settlements better than anybody else....#hmmm... i kinda wanna make megumi somebody's associate but also..... yuuta.....#i think i just like sticking yuuta in a tie if im being real#but anyway... satoru is your Work Husband and everyone knows he wants to be your real husband#but they just let it slide bc rumour has it even tho hes just a secretary hes got equity in the firm?? and besides that his heart eyes give#away his hopeless devotion from a mile away#the day you actually start seeing somebody outside of work... oh theyre in for Trouble#satoru x reader#him dragging you out of ur office late at night and u protesting so he just. puts u over his shoulder#and ur telling him to let u down but he's insisting u go home and then nanami pops out of his office#and ur like wait nanami this isnt what it looks like but he's so dead in the eyes when he just sighs
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Meeting (Befriending?) Jevil
So much for an easy first fight.
#deltarune#jevil#frisk undertale#frisk#deltarune au#wyolfe#deltarune bt#dr bt#my art#frisk is basically playing dlc for a game they already beat and unfortunately for them the levels do scale.#you defeated the God of Hyper Death. you can handle a clown.#wait oh my god i could design hard mode versions of all the enemies. wait. hold on.#i wasnt going to do that but now i might.#anyway! Jevil's still the court jester in this au! he hasn't met the strange someone and gone (completely) bonkers!#still a few screws loose but thats just a requirement for being a jester.#Jevil is under the impression Spade King's recent behavior (like imprisoning the other kings) is a result of his bad mood#and that fixing that bad mood will fix the behavior... Sorta.#some part of Jevil is aware that that isnt really how this works but he doesnt know what else to do.#'entertain' is all he's ever done.
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Joolets (and others)
No more (WHY IS ARTING NOT ARTING)
#CANT WAIT FOR MARCH 8#also some news might FINALLY move into the new house and uh yea (in my tiktok i plan to make a tiny story about it)#[and yes my voice will probably be included]#CANT WAIT#ALSO I BOUGHT A BINDER AND MY MOM THOUGHT IT WAS A SHIRT SO I WINNN BIG WIN W (She might find out what it is when it gets here but oh welll)#ANDDDDBTHE MOD MY BUDDYS BEEN WORKING ON FOR AGES IS ALMOST DONE AND I WILL BE ANNOUNCING IT ON MY MEDIA ONCE IT IS!^^#(gosh i need to art more so it can finish quicker)#welcome home#wally darling#partycoffin#julie joyful#howdy pillar#barnaby b beagle#poppy partridge#“he has come to sell you apples” HAHAHA
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these made me have a mental breakdown at 3 am tbh
#I DONT EVEN THINK I NEED TO SAY WHAT IM THINKING ABOUT THESE#THE TOP TWO ARE JUST SSDOSJFLKFJ;DKOPBJWP#YEAH YEAH OKAY OKAY OKAY NORMAL BEHAVIOR#like instead of just waiting he puts his hands on sebs hip and lower back???? okay????????????#perfectly normal work place behavior imo! (sure sure sure.....)#such a tender soft touch...its okay fernando if youre gonna touch him in the first place you might as well grab him#i love looking at clips thru a shipper's lense bcs every little thing just causes horrific derangement#AND OH YEAH THE HELMET CARESS!!!!!!!!!! OKAY SEBBBBBB!!!!#this one's for C LOL bcs my god we are both losing it#just i cannot put into words my exact thoughts except LOOK AT HIS HANDS OKAY!!!!!!#vettonso#sebastian vettel#fernando alonso#f1#formula 1#2011 british gp#2011 is my comfort season okay?? im not worried abt spoilers bcs theres not rly a championship fight. its just good vibes#we do a little bit of f1
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Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies ↳ 1x06 | 1x10
#grease rise of the pink ladies#grease rotpl#rise of the pink ladies#rotpl#cynthia rotpl#lydia rotpl#cynthia x lydia#lynthia#grease spoilers#ur not steady ground cynthia!!!!!!!#crying screaming throwing up#i got SO NERVOUS at that scene lmao#really thought oh no they might not turn this around!!#it's fine we're fine it all works out#cannot believe the season is over already#what am i gonna do with my thursdays now??#short king ‘wait does this mean i’m a thespian?’ cynthia#known thespian 'i've studied your gait' lydia#i think i need a gif tag
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vincent voice claim!! hes auggie and anton's son ^_^
VA: Catbug from Bravest Warriors, voiced by Sam Lavagnino
#YEAYYYYY i finally had time to make this PUMPS FISTS#god but this voice is perfect for him ^_^ he sounds so baby (he is five years old)#im also planning to do voice claim videos for sleight and xin ya!! im still deciding who would be a good VA for sleight though#my first choice is vic mignona as tamaki from ouran because sleight is like really cool and suave when hes performing#but once hes off the stage hes very clumsy and dramatic.. the exact opposite of his stage persona LOL#im also considering eric vale as phoenix wright.. or maybe donald glover as marshall lee if im leaning more on the#cool bad boy type vibe...?? oh wait i think he'd also have a nice singing voice so maybe ill do donald glover instead idk#xin ya's VA would be ashley burch as cass frm bee and puppycat and i actually already have some voice clips prepared#Alex Walsh as Chris BW might work for Lucky but thats also undecided. either that or maybe gabe velez as ENA#hes extremely chill though so maybe Ian Q Jones as radicles would work too..????#Sarah Wiedenheft as Power from csm might also work for serilda but honestly im still rehashing her character so who knows#ive also made.. character playlists for xin ya and sleight... i already have one for auggie its posted on her artfight page :)#my art#myart#my oc#oc#friend oc#<- shared custody cuz anton belongs to bow lol#voice claim#oc voice claim#vincent#videos#animatic#augusta#anton#sillies family
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Love how in Sweeny Todd Mrs. Lovett and Sweeny Todd are both freaks but they're freaks on completely different wavelengths.
The only reason Todd is bothering to continue breathing is for revenge. The only interest he has in anything or anyone around him is how they might help or hinder his cause. The only relationship he's legitimately emotionally invested in is with his straight razor.
Meanwhile Mrs. Lovett thinks she's in a rom-com where her old crush has come back to help her get her struggling restaurant on its feet, but her crush's ex keeps coming around trying to ruin everything.
Both of them go the whole musical without fully realizing that their brainworms are mutually unintelligible.
Antony is there in the background oblivious to this entire dynamic because he's too caught up in his own gothic romance plot to notice that the castaway he rescued is murdering people.
#side note that i haven't seen the movie or the play only listened to the broadway album#musicals#sweeney todd#in which i say things#mrs. lovett absolutely thinks she's in a romcom (not that they existed as a genre in the same way they do today but whatever) where her#has the little problem of whoops i killed someone and she goes oh wait i have a solution for both our problems!#a bit unorthodox and wacky ~tee hee~ but it just might work to save the shop!#we even found a stray child to make our own little family! ugh if only his stupid ex would stop trying to sabotage our clever business plan
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Aw yeah, Spamton!!
#I spent over 11 hours on this help#with how much I've worked on this my Spamton brainrot might be coming back#oh boy oh boy!! cant wait for that#spamton#spamton neo#my art#deltarune#spamton fanart#spamton deltarune
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For 🌾 --but anyone's invited to listen and imagine sucking me off and then getting sucked off in turn - the more the merrier ;) Read the time stamps below to know what to expect!
But 🌾, know I absolutely was imagining you, my perfect little slut, while recording this while super high. (btw the audio is not great the first few minutes but it gets better)
Also, while listening through my audio to make the time stamps below, I got really turned on and stroked my cock the whole time 😳 Autoandrophilia is real. Anyway, i'm off to go lay in bed and listen again while imagining you listening so i can finally cum 🤭
0: I kind of ramble while i touch myself in bed after having jerked off in the shower (and again standing on the bath rug lmao), talking about how i never masturbated in the shower until after my tdick grew enough to peek out from under my hood. spraying the shower head up onto it feels so fucking good now, fuck, the idea of you holding the shower head and controlling how much water hits my cock gets me so turned on
2:48 I start imagining you're touching me, stroking my tdick and fingering me exactly how i like
4:30 You kneel in front of me and start sucking my cock, following my instructions to slip your tongue from the head of my cock down to my hole while you keep fingering me so deep
6: I pull your hair so you mouth is pressed balls deep around my cock until I cum in your mouth, twice, while you lick every last drop of cum
7:35 Now it's your turn for me to suck you off 😇 I tell you i'm going to make you cum in my mouth and that you're going to love it, my perfect slut
9:20 I promise i'll make you cum soon-- you have till the last 20 seconds of the audio to cum if you want to imagine cumming into my mouth while i continue to suck and lick every last drop from the head of your cock 😘
#tdick#autoandrophilia#audio nsft#transmasc nsft#trans nsft#queer nsft#🌾#i was SO fucking high that#some parts might be a little awkward (and the first few minutes are low quality bc i forgot to hold my phone by my mouth lmao)#but I think you'll still very much enjoy it 😘#oh also last night i promised to post this in the morning#sorry for the delay i was called into work for an unexpected shift :/#but i imagine this is worth the wait. fuck i'm getting SO wet imagining you listening to this while touching yourself#actual escapades#i can't wait to tell me you came listening to this#starlingsays#my audio#starlingchats#sounds of pleasure
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’Cause You Cut Through All the Noise
Happy Painland Week! Day one is LOVE LANGUAGES! I could've picked touch or gifts or quality time or whatever as my love language but you know what? No. Life-affirming therapeutic domination. Edwin's love language is ordering Charles around. Fight me. Anyway, no smut here, but some steaminess/flirtation/allusions to sex. Some light angst bc Charles starts off in a bit of a spiral, bless his heart. Don't worry, Edwin'll put him right <3 (Quick translation note for any Americans reading: I'm referring to Charles' suspenders in British English, i.e. as braces rather than suspenders. Suspenders for us are generally the little sexy straps for stockings and would instantly up the kinkiness of the scene at least 70% (which I am in favour of, it's just not the fic I'm writing right now lmao)) 5.3k, M-rated, also available on Ao3. Thank you @painlandweek for putting this all together! Enjoy! 💛
Sometimes it seemed that the more Edwin learned, the less he knew. Or rather the more he thought he knew, the more he had left to learn.
Acquiring knowledge on any particular topic, it seemed, was only building the groundwork to question it further. Perhaps that's what an expert was, in the end: not a vast repository of facts, but one skilled in the art of digging for more. Not a pursuer of answers, but a pursuer of more interesting questions. Edwin had found it to be much the same across fields, across all his broad areas of interest and study.
Charles Rowland was one such area of interest.
It was quite astonishing; but thirty years into their partnership, Charles still managed to elude Edwin's understanding. Frequently. He was a lively, complex butterfly who simply would not be pinned (metaphorically, that is. In the more literal sense, he was most certainly not opposed to being pinned by Edwin. But he digressed.) They must have exhausted every conversational avenue two dead boys could traverse by now. How, then, could they persist in finding new things to say to one another? How, despite a mere sixteen years apiece of life before death, could they still find anecdotes unshared, secrets unspoken? Despite knowing Charles better than Edwin knew himself there was always, always more to learn.
And a great deal of learning had been done over the last eighteen months or so, indeed. Since the chaotic inciting incident: the now infamous milestone Case of Crystal Palace. Crystal, in all her messy human glory, had taken a battering ram to their comfortable routine. She'd rather shaken things up in the process ��� and thus, shaken a fresh slew of secrets from Charles and Edwin both.
Edwin's biggest secret was no longer a secret, of course. It was now common knowledge — though Charles, loyal to the last, hadn't shared it with another soul. He hadn't told anyone of Edwin's confession, nor had any official announcements been made by either of them as the 'situation' developed. But develop it had, in ways difficult to overlook. In touches, in kisses, in soft words and flagrant flirtations. Edwin imagined their friends and colleagues must have put two and two together by now, vis-a-vis Edwin and his feelings for Charles. And if they hadn't... well, it would certainly raise some concerns about the quality of their detective work.
Charles, likewise, had revealed a secret or two. Far less pleasant ones. Secrets that, in his more cynical moments, Edwin wondered if Charles would ever have told him without external pressure. Without Crystal's well-meaning badgering, or the Night Nurse's former villainy. Secrets about his family, his father, himself — or at least his own perception of himself. Harrowing they may be, but Edwin had filed each secret away carefully. Each bitter truth was a new supporting fact, a new data point. A fresh insight that peeled away Charles' brave face, and shone an interrogating light upon decades of behaviour.
Edwin had always known, of course, that Charles was not merely the plucky optimist he purported himself to be. Glimpses under the mask were rare, but inevitable. He'd have been foolish not to notice. But Edwin was not inclined to go picking at scabs. So what if Charles wished to maintain an image of himself? Image was everything; or so Edwin had been raised to believe. How a man chose to present himself to the world spoke volumes. Charles wished to be seen as a positive force, and Edwin had always respected him for that. Loved him, even, though he hadn't known it at the time. Charles' insistence on being a stubborn idealist had awed, amused and frustrated Edwin in almost equal measure. He wouldn't have changed it for the world.
But it was one thing to know that the chipper, animated, relentlessly positive Charles he'd come to know was a crafted image. Finding what lay behind the mask was another. It was a new level of understanding, of intimacy, to finally know the bedrock that lay beneath every too-bright word or action.
Charles Rowland was an inveterate people-pleaser.
In retrospect, of course, it made perfect sense. Edwin had sat with it, applied his new knowledge to a thousand interactions, and found it fitting. It had been a relatively easy fact to accept into his broader understanding of Charles.
The bitterer pill to swallow had been in realising just how often Edwin was, himself, a person Charles felt the need to please at all costs.
Edwin liked to think that their relationship had improved since those various revelations. It had certainly changed in notable ways. Especially since last November. Bonfire night. The night Charles had kissed him under the fireworks and thanked him, sheepishly, for 'waiting for him to get his head out of his arse'.
But the kissing and... other activities weren't the only new additions to their relationship. Moreso than ever before, there were repeat and regular attempts to open the lines of communication. They did not always succeed in those attempts. Charles' fear of rocking the boat and Edwin's discomfort with emotional outpourings were at odds with one another, and often left them at an impasse.
Nevertheless, Edwin was determined to try. Charles deserved nothing less; there had never been a person, alive or dead, more deserving of Edwin's trust. And it was the dearest wish of Edwin's afterlife that he could be the same for Charles. That he could be a person Charles need not perform for, or hide from. That he could be allowed to know Charles, to learn him, inside and out.
And while there was still, undeniably, work to be done, Edwin truly believed progress had been made. Through trial and a considerable amount of error, they had come to... understand certain things about one another. About what they each wanted, what they needed. Edwin was making leaps and bounds in the highly specialised field of Charles Studies.
So when Crystal stormed out of the office after another of her and Edwin's (admittedly rather petty) spats, he knew Charles needed attention before her footsteps had even faded.
"Charles?" Edwin prompted, with caution. He was not always an expert at 'reading the room', but in reading Charles he was growing more fluent by the day.
His dear friend's eyes snapped to him with a hunted look. Just as Edwin had thought they might.
Edwin cleared his throat. "Are you... alright?" he asked.
Charles, in that practised manner of his, plastered on a smile. "Yeah. Yeah, mate." He couldn't seem to look Edwin in the eye. "I'm brills."
Hm. A likely story.
He should have suspected this might happen, in the wake of such a heated disagreement. The very air in the office still seemed to ring with the reverberating slam of the door. An overreaction, really. Even mere minutes later, the whole altercation seemed rather silly. But such things were bound to happen on occasion. Edwin had certain opinions, and no qualms about arguing in their favour — and in Crystal Palace, he'd met his match. The two of them often wound up in the unfortunate scenario of a minor dispute devolving into a full-blown tiff. Such squabbles generally didn't end until someone (Charles) laughed and broke the tension, or someone else stormed off.
Edwin didn't doubt that all would be well shortly enough. If their pattern held, Crystal would come slinking back in a few hours. She and Edwin would exchange either sincere regrets or stilted half-apologies (depending on the severity of the argument). Then they would smooth over any remaining awkwardness by finding something minor to agree on (usually something Charles-related), and go swiftly back to normal.
But that resolution was some time away, yet. And in the meantime the air hung heavy; saturated with ire and discontent. Charles, emotional sponge that he was, was clearly bearing the brunt of it — and, as usual, trying his utmost to 'laugh it off'.
Edwin responded to the blatant fib with a single raised, questioning eyebrow.
Charles flinched as if struck.
Oh, dear. The situation was more dire than Edwin had thought.
“Charles,” said Edwin again, softer this time. It was important not to go on the offensive; in his current condition, Charles was liable to take any careless word as keenly as a knife in the back. “Please tell me what’s on your mind.” After a moment’s consideration, he added: “I promise I won’t be angry.”
It felt like utter nonsense to say out loud, a patronising placation as one might give to a child. But Charles, in Edwin’s experience, responded well to directness. His panic thrived in the mires of ambiguity.
Releasing a ragged breath, Charles rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. “Just… dunno what to do sometimes. When you two go off at each other.” He peered at Edwin with his uncovered eye, and tried for a smirk. It fell short of the carefree, playful expression it was aiming for. “Dunno what side to pick, do I?”
He voiced it like a joke; but Edwin was listening well, and he knew an incomplete sentence when he heard it. He stepped closer and, slowly, giving him time to retreat, took Charles’ free hand and squeezed it.
Charles closed his eyes, dragging his hand down his face. “Can’t keep you both happy,” he admitted on a low mumble, like it was a shameful secret.
Guilt curdled sour and heavy in Edwin’s stomach, but he kept it from his face. Any indication that Charles had made him feel bad was bound to make him shut down further. “It should not be your duty to keep the peace,” he said, choosing his words with care. “I will speak to Crystal later, clear the air.”
Charles nodded, but remained hunched unhappily in on himself. Propped against the edge of the desk as if he needed the support. Edwin could see his brain turning itself over and over in miserable little spirals; wondering if he should have stepped in earlier, said something else. Wondering what he could have done differently to make everything better. To make everyone happy.
Edwin swallowed tightly, and placed his hand upon Charles’ shoulder. “Charles. Look at me, please.”
He did so, without question or hesitation. Responding with ease to the polite command as if it had come from his own subconscious. Quick, and keen. Already Edwin had a strong suspicion of what was needed to calm him; but it was always important to test the waters, first.
Edwin, with great care, hooked a finger through the gold chain around Charles’ neck, and tugged.
The effect was instantaneous. Charles’ wide, fraught eyes softened, slackened, his lined eyelids drooping. His lips parted around a quiet sigh, smoother than his last ragged exhalation. His shoulders slumped as if a great weight had been released from them.
Charles may be an ever-unfolding and expanding area of study. But to Edwin’s expert eye, on occasion, his needs were remarkably simple to interpret.
Meeting his now somewhat unfocused gaze, Edwin leaned in. “Put Crystal out of your mind for now,” he said, a quiet command. “In fact, put everything out of your mind.”
“She’s upset,” Charles mumbled in half-hearted protest.
“Yes — and she will continue to be so for a while longer, regardless of what you or I might say.” Edwin smoothed the collar of Charles’ polo shirt. “When the dust has settled, I will find her and smooth things over. I promise. For the time being, you’ll do none of us any good with your overthinking.”
Charles snorted. “Overthinking? Me?” he joked.
With another gentle, but recriminating tug of the chain, Charles gasped and quieted. Already, his bright eyes were taking on a dreamlike haze.
Edwin sighed and leaned close, ‘til his nose grazed across Charles’ cheekbone. “Granted, your tendency to underthink before making dangerous choices borders on the pathological,” he teased. “But I suspect you’re thinking a lot of very unkind thoughts about yourself right now, and I’d like for you to stop. Please.”
Breath shuddering, Charles’ hands lifted, fisting in the front of Edwin’s waistcoat.
“That what you want?” He asked, his voice a small and broken thing. For all his strength of body and character, he felt as vulnerable in Edwin’s hands as a baby bird.
“How about I tell you exactly what I want for a while,” Edwin offered. “And then all you have to do is listen.“
He delivered a swift, dry kiss to Charles’ cheekbone. "No detective work required.”
It was a very simple solution, albeit one Edwin tried not to employ too often. He and Crystal had a sort of pact in place to discourage Charles' need to please others, rather than lean into it. Within reason, of course — Edwin had no wish to change Charles fundamentally as a person (or to discourage him from doing what felt good to him in intimate settings. If it made Charles feel good to make others feel good, who was Edwin to begrudge him the pleasure?). But they'd agreed that it was probably the healthier option, in the long term. To steer Charles away from hingeing his self-worth on what he could do for others.
But sometimes, the damage was already done. Sometimes Charles was simply too vulnerable to rejection, too stuck in his own head. And on those occasions, Edwin had learned the kindest thing to do was to take him by the hand, and take the guesswork out of the equation.
Charles sniffed. His soft curls tickled Edwin's forehead as he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, alright."
"Good." Edwin gave him another kiss, pressing this one to his temple. Charles melted under his touch, leaning into him, his hands tight and hot on Edwin's chest. "Thank you, dearheart," said Edwin.
Charles shivered. "Fuck me..." he swore, a dazed mumble.
"Hmmm... No, not tonight, I don't think," Edwin quipped — gratified when Charles managed a snort of mirth. Edwin thumbed up under Charles' jaw, finding where the tension still lingered and soothing it out with firm strokes. "I have something better in mind," he said. He released his hold on Charles to roll up in his own shirtsleeves in brisk, meticulous folds.
Charles watched his every motion with a hungry gaze. "Yeah?" he breathed, somewhat stunned; eyes devouring each newly exposed inch of Edwin's skin up to the elbow. He did have a fascination with Edwin's arms; it was a tried and true method of holding his attention.
"Yes." Edwin glanced over Charles' shoulder with a hum, and settled his hands upon Charles' slender waist. "First things first; let's get you sitting comfortably, shall we?"
He braced himself and, with careful exertion, lifted Charles to deposit him in his usual spot on the desk. Charles went without struggle, and with a gasp that morphed swiftly into a groan. His legs flopped open at once, one ankle hooking around Edwin's thigh in invitation. He tugged on Edwin's waistcoat with a soft whine of his name.
Edwin, maintaining his composure admirably, shushed him. He removed Charles' hands from his own chest — though he pressed quick, apologetic kisses to the heels of each. "Later, my love. Now. Where did I put it..."
He patted down his trouser pockets. When that yielded nothing, he sifted through the stationary cup on the desk. He suspected the object he desired might still be in his coat pocket, but he was loathe to step too far from Charles. Luck, however, was on his side. He recovered the coil of string from a box of spellcasting odds and ends with a small sound of triumph.
Charles watched Edwin's hands unwind the string; rapt despite the slight glaze of his eyes. "You gonna tie me up, then?"
Edwin tsk'd. "What a one-track mind you have this evening," he teased. It wasn't a scold. Having Charles focused and fixated on trying to get Edwin into bed was vastly preferable to the jumble of insecurity. "Hold out your hands."
"Sure you're not tying me up?" said Charles, brow furrowing as he lifted his hands — palms up, beautifully willing.
"I suppose that depends on your definition," said Edwin, as he tied the ends of the string together to form a wide loop. He nudged Charles' hands into place, about a foot apart with palms turned inwards, and draped the loop over them.
Charles, through the haze, finally twigged. "Cat's cradle?" he said, with a slight chuckle.
"Do you object?" asked Edwin.
"Why'd you wanna do this?"
"Because I like playing games with you." Edwin directed Charles to rotate his wrists, winding the string into loops around his hands. He indulged in a gentle touch as he did so, tracing his thumbs along the creases of Charles' skin. The smooth stretch where once a 'life line' would have resided. Edwin had not set much stock by the art of palmistry, until he'd discovered that little commonality between he and Charles. "Again, please. One more loop."
Charles didn't argue — of course he didn't. Edwin doubted he currently had the capacity to argue; so deep had he already descended into that quiet space in his head. The one he occupied only in their moments of deepest intimacy, when Edwin took charge, took him in hand. His eyes, such quick and clever things, now gazed down at Edwin hooded and glassy. Perfect, still pools of pleasantly addled warmth. He'd sunk so readily, so splendidly, all but curled up in the palm of Edwin's hand.
Edwin watched him a moment before proceeding, soothing the ragged edges of his own Hell-torn soul. Whatever he'd done in life to earn the trust Charles placed in him, it must have be something very good indeed.
In next to no time, they had the string pulled taut between Charles' hands, forming the neat double cross of the eponymous Cat's Cradle. Edwin hummed in approval. "Well done," he praised, as he pinched the crossed strands and pulled them outwards. "And now to me. Soldier's Bed, please."
Though Charles appeared to be away with the fairies, he was attuned to Edwin's voice and acquiesced to his command with ease. This was a game they had played many times, on long and quiet nights. When they'd had nothing to hand but an old bootlace, and nothing they wished to do but keep each other's company. Charles didn't need to strain to recall how to release the strings into Edwin's hold. Or how to begin forming the next shape after that, his confident fingers pinching and tugging the relevant strands.
Peaceful and methodical, they worked together, shape by shape, hand to hand. When Charles was pulling the strings for Edwin he was focused, intent, a little wrinkle in his brow. Once or twice his tongue darted out, bitten between his teeth in concentration, and Edwin resisted the impulse to distract him with a kiss. When Charles was merely holding the strings he subsided into utter relaxation. Breathing slow, eyes closed or halfway there, watching Edwin's face and hands with hazy satisfaction. Occasionally he dropped a thread, but it was never a serious blunder, and Edwin got them back on track with a polite command to pick it up. In a customary game they'd have to restart, but this was no customary game. Now was not the time to dwell upon harmless mistakes.
The game served as Edwin had hoped it would. After a few rounds of he and Charles working in perfect tandem, he could feel the air had settled and Charles with it. The grounding touches of their fingers and the face-to-face contact couldn't have hurt. Edwin had fallen into a rhythm, politely requesting each new shape by name and praising the end result. Charles had likewise fallen into a rhythm of mellow compliance. As the rounds wore on he even offered the odd cheeky verbal acknowledgement of Edwin's commands. A 'comin' right up' here, an 'on it, boss' there. His voice was thick and sweet, his tongue succumbing to the same submissive, slumberous spell as his mind. But a little of his bright, energetic spark was creeping back beneath the haze.
By the time they'd worked through the established shapes, and exhausted their own catalogue of invented ones, Edwin was satisfied. He felt they'd left the storm behind and sailed into calmer waters.
"Good game, Charles," he said, as he took their last custom shape — the aptly named Nail in the Coffin — into his own hands, and unraveled it. "Thank you."
Charles hummed, drowsy, swaying a little where he sat. "What'chu wanna do now?" he asked, dark, glassy eyes intent on Edwin's face. Like it was the most important question in the world.
He looked so lovely like this. Of course he always looked lovely, as handsome a boy as Edwin had ever seen. But like this especially, so far gone in his peace and pleasure, there was nothing to compare. Warm and golden, soft and tousled; his eyes black and bottomless and only for Edwin. Gazing at him as if he'd hung the moon and the stars.
Edwin faltered, a small gasp catching in his throat. He remained adamant that he wouldn't take more than Charles should give, at this moment. But... perhaps a small indulgence.
"Kiss me," he said, tucking a finger beneath Charles' chin. "Please."
Charles nodded — a hasty gesture compared to his otherwise lethargic motions — and swayed forward. He crashed his lips against Edwin's in an artless kiss, his hands finding Edwin's waist and gripping tight. Like he couldn't get him close enough.
Edwin sighed into it, stepping into Charles. Into the comfortable vee of his sprawled legs, where he'd come to spend many a peaceful night of late. He tilted his head, guiding Charles into a gentler kiss. Leading him as he would in a dance and letting him fall, gratefully, into step. Edwin explored the curve of Charles' jaw with his fingers, the charmingly pointed shell of his ear. He thumbed across his sparkly earring, and Charles huffed a little laugh into his mouth.
"Magpie," he mumbled.
Edwin chuckled as well, a natural release of the warmth suffusing him. He broke the kiss to dust smaller, feather-light ones across Charles' cheeks. "Well," he said, a thumb pressed to Charles' plush lower lip. "I do seem to collect the most beautiful things..."
Breath hitching, Charles wrapped his arms around Edwin's shoulders and squeezed. Edwin returned the embrace without hesitation. Never before Charles had he felt at ease with this sort of thing — this effusive, uncurbed physical affection. With anyone else it was still a struggle. He had little desire to touch, or be touched. But inviting Charles into his embrace was never a hardship; it was simply his proper place. It was a fact of the universe: Charles belonged with Edwin. In his arms, on his desk, in his bed, on his nerves.
Charles belonged with Edwin, as Edwin belonged with Charles; holding his hand, steering him true. And, where necessary, using a firm word and a firmer hold to put those wretched doubts in his head to rest.
Edwin pulled away with a parting kiss to Charles' temple. Charles felt warm, in that strange, prickly way. Ghostly body heat wasn't so much a thrum of blood as an excitation of atoms. To Edwin's mind, he felt warmer than usual at present. "Are you hot?" he asked.
"Dunno," said Charles with a lax, flirtatious smile. "Am I?"
Edwin rolled his eyes. "In the non-figurative sense, please, Charles."
"Mm. Yeah, bit hot." The smile widened into an impish grin. "Or maybe that's just you."
"You're incorrigible," Edwin muttered — but there was a smile in his voice and likely on his face, as well. His own cheeks were beginning to feel rather warm. He cleared his throat and tugged, meaningfully, on one of Charles' braces. There was a tantalising give and take to the elastic as his fingers slipped behind it. He was half tempted to release it, let it ping back, see what sound Charles made at the slight shock. But now wasn't the time for that sort of play.
"You may remove a layer, if you like," Edwin offered magnanimously — no ulterior motive whatsoever. "I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable."
Charles didn't need telling twice. He slid the braces off his shoulders and grabbed his polo shirt at the back of the neck, dragging it off over his head. It was altogether a clumsier attempt than his usual so-called 'strip teases', but his hooded eyes burned on Edwin's face throughout. Afterwards he was left in just his sinfully tight white vest — and, of course, the enticing glimmer of his golden chain on top. But he remained pleasantly flushed and glowing, with not a hint of cold or discomfort. Charles was prone to chills in times of stress; a morbid sense memory of his last night alive. But he always seemed to warm in Edwin's presence.
Edwin, with an exhale that was just a tad on the ragged side, bowed his head and grazed a kiss across Charles' exposed collarbone. "Better?"
He could feel Charles' soft groan ruffling his hair. "Yeah. Yeah, feels good." He pulled on the hem of Edwin's waistcoat. "Bet you're hot too, yeah?"
Increasingly so, yes. Edwin was clinging to his composure by a thread. "It is a touch close in here," he agreed. He could feel Charles' restless fingers tugging, so he took them in his own hands, and guided them to the top button of the waistcoat. It was only fair he restore the balance. "Would you be so kind?"
Charles groaned again, this time so close to Edwin's ear it sent a ripple down his spine, and obeyed. His hands, as was often the case when disrobing Edwin, tripped over the buttons, rendered all fingers and thumbs in his eagerness. But they were in no hurry. Edwin closed his eyes and waited, tucked into the crook of Charles' neck and perfectly satisfied to be so.
When the final button surrendered the fight, Charles made haste to shove the garment off Edwin's shoulders. Edwin corrected him with a polite "Gently, please," and Charles took it in more careful hands, mindful of causing wrinkles. It made no difference, of course — Edwin could will his clothes to look as pristine or rumpled as he pleased. But Charles shuddered sweetly at the direction, and Edwin so enjoyed directing him. Besides, there was never any harm in promoting good habits.
"Fold it, please," said Edwin — stepping back to give Charles space. He watched Charles take the waistcoat in hand and, inexpertly, fold it in half twice. Lengthwise first, then the opposite. Hardly proper protocol, but Edwin didn't much care. He just took the haphazardly folded garment with gratitude and set it aside on the desk. "Thank you."
"Anything else?" Charles mumbled — his fingers teasing Edwin's shirt, itching to tug it free of his waistband.
Edwin sighed, and stilled Charles' hands. Perhaps he was letting the situation get away from them a bit. Charles was quite the difficult temptation to resist. "Perhaps later," he said. At Charles' disappointed pout, he made an amendment. "Definitely later."
Charles snorted, and let his head flop against Edwin's chest. "Alright," he mumbled. He sounded tired. Overwhelmed. It was a lot for him, this complete surrender, and Edwin well knew it. "Whatever you say, love."
"I say it's time for a rest." Edwin took Charles' face in both his hands, holding him still as he bestowed one more kiss upon his forehead. "Go and sit down, please. Comfortably, on the sofa. I'll join you momentarily."
Charles grumbled, but nevertheless did as he was told. He hopped off the desk, hand trailing across Edwin's chest as he passed him by. Edwin caught it for the barest second, just to give his fingers a parting squeeze. An altogether impossible urge to resist; and the loving way Charles' eyes found him over his shoulder affirmed his decision.
Tearing his attention from Charles and his smiles and his soft, trusting eyes, he turned it to the bookcase instead. He knew exactly what he wished to do with Charles, now. Something they'd had neither the space nor quiet for in quite some time. He scanned the shelves, deep in thought.
"Charles," he called out, careful not to cut too sharply through the peace of the room. "Douglas Adams, or Sir Arthur?"
It was a gentle prompt, and a simple choice. The stakes couldn't be lower. He waited to see if Charles would hand it back to him, anyway — still unwilling and unable to bear the thought of making an incorrect decision.
"Mmm... Doug," Charles mumbled.
Edwin smiled to himself. On the mend, then. "Excellent choice," he said; sliding their well-loved second edition of Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency from the shelf.
He turned on his heel to find Charles, folded onto the sofa in a loose tangle of limbs, chin on his fist. He bore sleepy, squinting eyes and a dopey smile, both directed at Edwin and warming him through like late afternoon sunlight.
"Like how it sounds in your voice," said Charles, nestling in further. The very picture of contentment. Seemed he could scarcely keep his eyes open; but he must not have wanted to look away from Edwin just yet.
Edwin could sympathise entirely; he rarely wished to look away from Charles, either.
Edwin smiled as he stepped in close, a hand on Charles' knee; a smiling kiss dropped to his head of rampant curls. "Quiet, now, darling boy," he softly commanded, tugging on Charles' knee to make room. "And enjoy yourself."
~
“How long did the Monk believe these things? Well, as far as the Monk was concerned, forever,” Edwin read, his thumb tracing circles on Charles’ wrist. “The faith which moves mountains, or at least believes them against all the available evidence to be pink, was a solid and abiding faith, a great rock against which the world could hurl whatever it would, yet it would not be shaken. In practice, the horse knew, twenty-four hours was usually about its lot.”
They were a scant few pages into the book, and yet Edwin suspected that Charles had drifted into a doze. It was hard to tell without facing him. They'd settled on the sofa with Charles tucked up against the arm and back, and Edwin reclining between his sprawled legs. Edwin's back pillowed on Charles' torso; Charles' arms wrapped around Edwin, like a large teddy bear. Edwin could feel Charles' chin propped atop his head. On occasion, he nuzzled into Edwin's hair with soft hums as he listened to the story. But the hums and nuzzles both had grown less frequent already, subsiding to near silence.
Edwin read on regardless. Charles, like all ghosts, rarely if ever actually slept, and was likely still listening. Even if his mind was wondering elsewhere for the time being, he'd find his way back. He always did. And Edwin would be waiting for him.
A few chapters later, as Edwin recounted the thrilling mystery of the horse in the water closet, he felt Charles stirring. Soon, Charles' wrist was slipping free from Edwin's grasp, the hand coming to rest instead atop Edwin's hand in a gentle hold.
"Thank you," Charles mumbled, nuzzling into Edwin's hair.
Edwin smiled. "There's no need to thank me for reading to you," he said. "I enjoy it."
"I meant, like..." Charles sighed, squeezing Edwin's hand. "Thanks for, y'know. Bossing me around a bit," he said, sincerity threaded through the lighthearted tease. "Seriously. It proper helps."
Edwin laced their fingers, and brought Charles' hand to his lips. "Charles," he said, simple and serious. He kissed him on the knuckles. "I shall always be here to boss you around when needed."
Charles laughed. Quiet, unobtrusive. It seemed neither one of them was quite ready to break the spell just yet. "Love you," he murmured.
Marking his page with a finger, Edwin leaned back onto Charles' shoulder. He tilted his head back, all the better to look his beloved in the eye. "I love you, too."
He only had to lift his lips, a silent prompt.
Charles needed no further instructions.
~~
Thanks for reading! Consider dropping us a comment/reblog, they do so make my day/week/month 💛 Might not manage every day of this week but I will defo see you tomorrow for a fic/collab I'm SUPER excited about!!! Painland Week Prompt List
#painlandweek#painland week#dead boy detectives#payneland#dbda#my fanfic#I was gonna hold off on posting this til later in the day#but tbh I am pacing around my room nervously waiting for a phone call so I need distraction#so if you read this oh my god PLEASE interact i'm clawing up the walls rn fdjdkdsndfgfnhgjg#will probs try and work on some other painland week stuff as a distraction but i might be too on-edge to get very far#anyway hope you like this!!#it's a bit rambling but i'm hoping it at least feels cosy#and my bestie liked it so that's the most important opinion right there but i hope y'all like it too#i'm SO EXCITED for tomorrow and to see the fruits of my dear collab partner in crime's labours 💛💛💛#also 💛mwah💛 to my beloved dirk gently moots 💛
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