#and I think she would look very dapper in a little top hat and button up

[flufflecat]

noticed that my cat is shaped like canon human bill

[antiquechampagne]

Antique Champagne - CH46 - Night Shift

Author Note: This chapter contains adult material. I have included the beginning, with a link to AO3 to continue to read if you are so inclined.

Hancock leaned forward and pressed the cracked elevator button. With a distorted ding, the doors closed, and the elevator lurched upwards. Leaning back against the metal wall, he pulled Payne into a loose hug.

“So, tell me, oh wise old one, how did those monkeys learn that pre-war hand language thing? Could all the animals talk before the war?”

Payne chuckled. “No, animals didn’t talk before the war. I heard about various experiments involving language acquisition in intelligent animals… things like teaching sign language to apes and pictograms to dolphins, that sorta stuff. I’m guessing the ancestors of those gorillas learned ASL from their keepers and handed it down over the generations.” She gave his arms a squeeze. “It’s not something I’d ever thought I’d see again.”

“Maybe you could teach it to me someday? Might come in handy if we need to be sneaky.”

“Maybe…”

The doors scraped open. Entering the penthouse suite, Payne pulled Hancock to the end of the hall. She quickly pulled open two spacious walk in closets.

“I poked my head in here when we first put our things down.” She pulled out a random suit from one of the dozens of racks crammed in the closet. “They are just full of clothes… hats… random armor bits. Thought it might be fun to try some of them on! Who knows what Nate’s got stashed away in here!”

Hancock peered deeper into the packed closet. “Never pegged you as the roleplay type,” he sassed. “But let’s see if anything get’s the ol’ motor running!”

Payne playfully shoved him towards the door on the right. “You take that one… I’ll look around in here. When you find something fun, put it on.”

They disappeared into their respective rooms, scrounging around in the rusted racks and mottled trunks.

After a few minutes, Payne struck gold. “Holy shit, this is hideous! You’re going to love it!”

“Wait… I’m still searching…” Payne could hear metal hangers scraping as he combed through the clothing racks. “Oooh, yeah… that’s the one.”

“You ready?” Payne called.

“Ready!”

They stepped back into the hallway. Neither could hold back their laughter at the sight of the other. Payne was dressed head to toe in a vivid black and white cowhide western get up, complete with a black 10-gallon hat and silver tipped cowboy boots. Hancock had emerged is a subdued black and white striped shirt, but over his head he sported a comically garish clown mask featuring a bright red nose, bulging eyes and blue lipped Cheshire smile.

“The yellow polka-dot hat really pulls the whole ensemble together!” Payne snorted.

Hancock pulled off the mask. “I found a butcher knife stashed inside. Weird, eh? Why do you think he has all this shit?”

“He’s lost everything he ever knew. To him, it was literally overnight. It doesn’t surprise me that he is hoards everything.” Payne shrugged. “Let’s see what else we can find!”

Payne nearly missed a small pile of clothes in the bottom of a steamer trunk. Pulling the pieces out, she quickly realized the treasure she had found. It took her longer to take the cowboy outfit off than to slip into the green loincloth and leather bra. She looked like she would fit right in with Cito and his family.

“I’m good. How about you?” she asked.

Hancock sputtered, unsure. “Um… I don’t know… Did I put this on right?”

“Come out and I’ll take a look at it.”

He stepped into the doorway sheepishly pulling at the edges of the white crop top. Payne found it hard to stifle her smile.

“Um, I don’t this that was made for you. Given what I remember of Nuka-Girl, you’d need a bit more up on top to fill out the uniform.” She gave him a good once over. “You are rocking those thigh-highs, though!”

Hancock turned and playfully flaunted the tall black rubberized boots, the stiletto heels clicking on the floor. “So, are you are about to knock me out with a club and drag me home to your cave? I might be amenable if you ask nicely.”

Payne swaggered over to him, coyly turned her bare shoulder to him before giving him a sultry “Ugga… ugga…” They both dissolved in another fit of laughter.

“Okay… okay…” she heaved between chuckles. “One more time. Dress to impress, this time!”

This required a lot more digging. Nate had to have something with a bit of a wow factor buried between lobsterpots and lab coats somewhere. At the very back of the last rack, a glittery piece of fabric caught her attention.

This time, when she stepped into the hallway, Payne wore a short shimmering silver dress. The fabric clung to her, the metallic sheen catching the light, highlighting each curve. She was sure she would be scraping Hancock’s jaw off the floor.

What she did not expect was to pick her own off the linoleum when Hancock entered wearing a sleek black tuxedo that seemed tailor made for his thin frame. His dapper duds jogged ancient memories of long dead high rollers and luxury suite parties. Even the way that he moved towards her radiated power and control.

A sly smile weaseled its way across his sinewy features. “What? Is my tie not on straight?” Tugging on it before straightening his cuffs. His eyes drifted slowly over Payne, enjoying how flustered she appeared.

“No, no. You look…” she shook her head, “amazing!” Putting a finger to her lip, she thought. “But you are missing something. Go put on your hat.”

Hancock ducked through the door, returning with his signature tricorn hat perched on top of his head.

Payne stepped to his side. “There.” She cupped his face softly with one hand and whispered. “That’s perfect.” She gave him a quick peck. “Now stay right here. I’ll be right back.”

Kneeling in front of a large footlocker, she plucked out a vault suit off the stack. Silently she slipped into the blue jumpsuit, the skintight leather quickly warming to her body. She pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail. Now when she stepped out, she knew Hancock would be drinking in every inch of her.

“So, Mister Mayor, I’ve heard it told that surface dwellers dream of having a soft untouched vault girl all to their own.” Payne smiled demurely. “Tell me, is that true?”

“Oh, I don’t know about everyone, but this dirty old ghoul can’t wait to get his hands all over your goods.” Grabbing her by the waist, he drew her close, their lips locking roughly. His hands slid down, grabbing her ass and squeezing.

Payne broke away. “Why don’t you slip into something a little less… pristine. I don’t want to get that tux messy.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And you?”

“There are two trunks full of these things… Even if this one gets torn to shreds, Nate isn’t going to miss it. If you feel bad, we can give him a handful of caps when we leave.” She paused. “Give me a minute, then meet me in by the windows.”

“I might just have to do that… you look amazing in leather” He kissed her again. “Don’t leave me waiting too long.” He ducked back into the closet.

Payne stood looking out one of the few uncracked floor-to-ceiling windows when she heard the scrape of his boots behind her.

“Enjoying the view?” His arms snaked around her. He returned wearing only his signature pants and sash low on his hips. She didn’t move, enjoying the embrace.

“Something like that.” She turned around, pushing him gently but firmly towards the wide stuffed armchair she had set up behind them.

Sitting down, he glanced at the two end tables on either side of him. One side was full of chems and a bottle of booze. The other held a knife and a pair of Med-X syringes.

“Looks like you’re planning quite the party.” Hancock popped a Mentat into his mouth. “And I am here for it.” His eyes were glued to her hips as Payne strutted closer. A sultry piano played softly from jukebox in the far corner of the room.

Payne leaned forward, holding herself up by the armrests. “I was thinking I could try keeping each other awake until sunrise… work through all our impure thoughts, one by one. Does that tickle your fancy?”

“You read my mind.”

Payne returned to the window, swaying to the melody. Nuka-Town stretched out before her, a handful of lights twinkling in the darkness below. She had placed the chair close enough to the windows to give the sense that someone looking up at just the right angle could get quite the show. And she wanted to put on a show.

Want to read the juicy parts? Go to AO3!

[musekicker]

animal crossing drabble: Fashion Disaster

Just something more on the fluff and a bit silly side of things.

And yeah, I couldn’t quite come up with descriptions for everyone's outfits. Ah well.

Events were a big deal to the islanders of Sweet Berry island. There was always the bug catching and fishing tourneys, star showers some nights. It was a low key yet interesting place to live.

Today was a new form of event that the island had not had before. 

Label had approached Tom Nook and Isabelle with a new event idea that would provide entertainment to the islanders and help Label out in testing out fashion design ideas.

A fashion show.

And there had been a few volunteers for the fashions. Flick and C.J had been the first on board for the fashion show, so their outfits were more custom then some of the other outfits.

Other volunteers included Isabelle, Harv, and Blathers.

At the announcement on the fashion show on the town message board islanders made sure everything was looking it's best. And on the morning of the show, a runway had been constructed by a small team of the island villagers. 

Now, as night fell and the lights were turned on in the island center, the show would soon begin.

Label held her breath as the music, played on the announcement system, swelled and Tom Nook came out from behind the curtains set up at the base of the runway. 

"Good evening everyone. I'm so glad to see so many faces here. Label is a dear friend of us all and deserves our support. But don't take it from me. Before we start the show, let's hear a few words from the hedgehog of the hour herself, Label!"

The crowd cheered, Label's sister cheering the loudest.

Label stepped onto the stage and Tom Nook handed the microphone to her.

"Thank you everyone. I am thankful that everyone is here. This collection is not a large one, but one made with much dare and love. And I hope you all enjoy it." Label said.

With that Label handed the microphone back to Tom Nook.

"Well, with those words, The Sweet Berry fashion show is ready to begin!" Tom Nook announced.

The islanders whooped and cheered as Tom Nook and Label hurried back behind the curtains. Seconds later the first fashion model came out.

Flick was the first to come down the runway. He walked in a very mellow and cool headed pace, hands in the pockets of his open jacket.

Said jacket had the pattern of a monarch butterflies on the inside of the jacket. His shirt was a bright orange with black buttons. His jeans were black with orange buttons going down the side of the legs.

The jeans cuffs also had the orange and black monarch pattern coloring.

He stopped at the end of the runway, giving a light, cool tilt of his head before turning and heading back up the runway to the curtains.

C.J was next.

His clothes were clearly made for fishing on a rainy day as his outfit was a raincoat. What made his so interesting was that the coat was clear with fish images embedded in the middle of the material of the jacket. It was fun and functional.

C.J had a lot more energy on the runway, outright sashaying and posing. 

Not long after was Harv's turn. Watching from the end of the ever dwindling line was Blathers.

Blathers wasn't sure about this at all. The fashions were wonderful. He loved his new sweater that matched contrasted against his feather coloring. It was more how he would handle the crowd he was worried about.

He peered out at the crowd of islanders and peers and felt his little owl heart beat as fast as it did when presented with a bug.

"Blathers, is something wrong?" Tom Nook asked.

Harv was back, giving Isabelle a high five as it was turn to step out.

Isabelle stepped out on the runway next. Her outfit bright and energetic. Just as much as Isabelle was. She smiled and waved to the crowd.

"I can't follow that!" Blathers cried.

Tom Nook put a hand on Blathers shoulder.

"Yes, you can. You will do just fine. And even if you were to mess anything up at all, which I'm not saying you would, do you think your fellow islanders would judge you?" Tom Nook asked.

"That one islander who keep shaking the trees and is always getting chased by bees might." Blathers said after a moment.

"Who is she to judge? She's shaking trees enough that she keeps getting chased by bees." Tom Nook said.

"It's true." said the islander that both Blathers and Tom Nook had been talking about.

The other yelped at the appearance of the islander.

"Oh, oh my." Blathers said, putting a wing to his chest for a moment.

"Um.. hello there. Are you part of the fashion show?" Tom Nook asked.

The islander shook her head.

"Nope. But hey, Blathers, wanted to tell you that you got this man." the islander said.

Blathers smiled.

"Thank you... both of you. I think I needed some kind words. Now I'm ready to go out there!" Blathers said.

It was a good thing too. As he saw Isabelle was returning.

As he was preparing to step out onto the runway the islanders leaned in a bit to whisper to Tom Nook.

"Don't tell Blathers but I chased a tarantula back here. Lost sight of the little-"

"I think I know where it went." Tom Nook said, eyes wide and pointing to Blathers.

The islander glanced in the direction Tom Nook had pointed in. Her eyes grew just as wide as she spied the tarantula attached to Blathers back.

"Ohhhh no." said the islander. "We have to do something."

It was too late to try and remove the tarantula without Blathers knowledge as Blather had just stepped out from the curtains and onto the runway.

"No no no. Not good." said the islander.

"Hold on, I got a plan. Go to Timmy and Tommy. Tell them to get... the suit." Tom Nook said. "And also any wild flower they can pick on the way here. I'll talk to Label really quick."

Blathers was out on the runway now, trying to keep his shaky confidence. So far the islanders seemed to be on his side, clapping at the sight of him. Blathers gave a small smile to everyone.

Closer to the end of the runway the clapping started to die off once people got a view of Blathers back. Eyes were wide, mouths were agape. And no one wanted to say a thing, fearing that telling Blathers would put him into a spiral of freaking out.

Blathers however was suspecting something was wrong. People didn't stare for no good reason right? He was about to try and figure out just what was going on when Tom Nook arrived onto the runway. 

He looked rather dapper in his light blue suit and top hat. There was a gold band around the top hat and he had a bow tie on that was also a gold coloring.

In his fancy suit he stroll over to Blathers , a collection of somewhat nicely arranged wild flowers in arm. 

"Attention everyone!" Tom Nook said. "Yes this is a fashion show, but me and Label also have a surprise for our final runway model and beloved citizen of Sweetberry, Blathers!"

The crowd clapped, still unsure but hoping the plan Tom Nook was putting into effect would get the tarantula off Blathers back quick.

"What? A surprise?" Blathers said, blinking a few times. "I had no idea."

"Exactly why it's called a surprise dear Blathers." Tom Nook said, now by Blathers side.

He paused, looking at Blathers back and tsking. 

"Oh a piece of lint is stuck to your back. Let me get that off." Tom Nook said.

Tom Nook was very brave as he quickly swatted the tarantula off of Blathers back. The tarantula went flying towards the crowd, who quickly moved aside to avoid getting a tarantula on them.

The tarantula had enough of the crowd as it only skittered away into the night.

The night was saved.

"Because of your dedication with of sharing knowledge with the islanders of Sweetberry we as a town have agreed to open up a library on the island. Which will be named after you, dear Blathers." Tom Nook said.

Blathers was speechless as Tom Nook handed the flowers to him and everyone cheered.

"I... I don't know what to say but... thank you!" Blathers said.

As Blathers basked in this good news and the crowds approval Tom Nook leaned over to speak to the islander. 

"You are helping fund and build this library." Tom Nook whispered.

"I thought so. Also fair." the islander said.

[salamanderskin]

Dream a little Dream of Me (A Wartime Romance)

Reposting to Tumblr as part of operation ‘Archive all the old fics’ WWII romance, m/f original sickfic

The year was 1942.

The rain may have been warm but it was persistent.

In the barracks, Charles Frank took a moment to borrow a pocket mirror and ran a comb and a dab of brylcreem through his hair in an attempt to make his hair look more dapper than military smart. By the time he'd caught some rain and pushed his hat on top of that, he was pretty sure it was wasted effort. Another check in the mirror confirmed he was looking presentable, dark brown hair smoothly parted, clean shaven and his shirt freshly ironed. You could have cut yourself on the pleats in his tan slacks. If he was pale and his nose was a little raw at the edges, perhaps it wouldn't show in a dark dancehall.

He bent to tie his laces, optimistically choosing brown spectators over his everyday shoes. He'd just got the soles replaced and they were smooth and pliable, the better to spin Lil around the floor if she'd only let him. He could but hope. He could but- his breath caught uncomfortably and he found himself sneezing hard against one fist.

“Ht---KSSchu! -KSSchu!... excuse me,” he told the air around him.

“Gesundheit.” Someone called over from the next room. His buddy Sam came through in shirt sleeves, fiddling with the buttons on his braces. “Haven't you done that enough today?”

He really had. What he'd hoped on the parade ground was just a tickle in his nose had spread into his throat and inner ear, settling in as surely as the change in the weather. Charlie's head was thick and the beginning of a sinus headache tightened just below his eyes. As if in demonstration he had to sneeze again before he could answer.

“Hah- TCSHu!”

“Gesundheit! Gee Charlie, you going to be alright tonight?

Charlie just shrugged. “You're a mother hen, Sam.”

“As if!” Sam laughed, snatching Charlie's comb to sweep his own blonde locks to one side. “I was going to say that if you can't meet Lillian tonight I'd be more than happy to take your place.” “You should be so -snf- lucky!”

Sam yelled something back as Charlie departed, but it was lost to the patter of rain. It was a perfect summer storm to go with what was blooming into a perfect summer cold. Charlie turned the collar of his overcoat up and gave his nose a thick blow into his handkerchief in the hope that it would last him a while. He needed this to go well.

* * * *

There she was, waiting under the awning of the cafe to escape the rain. She wasn't looking up, so Charlie took a moment to watch her. The brisk but easy way she had of moving, which had so attracted him to her, showed even when she was shaking her umbrella and surreptitiously straightening the seams on her stockings- real silk stockings! God she looked good in them, and in that g ress. It was simple but elegant, just like she was. She'd done her hair up the way he liked, though he'd never told her. Dark curls framed her face to one side, victory rolls on top of her head. A few wisps of brown hair were escaping in the damp and clinging to her cheek.

As he neared her, Charlie cleared his throat once for nervousness and then again for utility, hoping he didn't sound too hoarse.

“Lil!”

“Charlie, you made it.”

“Of course.” He cleared his throat again with a cough.  Say it! “You look beautiful.”

Lil tried to look embarrassed but only grinned as he took the umbrella from her and embraced her lightly, keeping his face averted. She rose on her toes to kiss him on the cheek.

“Ah, maybe you shouldn't-” He pulled away with a hand between them, finishing shyly. “I'm not feeling so good.”

“You're not?”

“It's nothing but I-”

As if he to demonstrate his voice cracked on the last word and he turned to cough into one fist. When he started it was hard to stop. He was desperate both to ease the itch in his chest but also to look bright and well, and that urge won out after a few husking barks. Were his cheeks burning? Something about the kind way she was looking at him made him want to sink into the ground.

“No kidding!” She said, then. “I don't mind.”

“I do. I don't want to get you sick. I wasn't going to come but I- I couldn't stand you up.”

That was an understatement. The thought of her waiting under the awning for him in the rain, her face gradually falling as she realised he wasn't just a little late, was more than he could bear. He could have sent one of the boys to run a note to her, perhaps, but he didn't quite trust them. Not with a girl like her. As it was, she really didn't seem to mind. Perhaps he could keep it together for the date and a few dances and wait until he got back to his bunk to fall apart in a sniffling mess. He could but hope, though the needling tingle in the back of his nose suggested otherwise.

“Lets go inside.” He crooked an arm and she followed him easily, keeping in step with all the ease he'd seen her display on the dance floor.

Inside the cafe was nice enough. The light was a little too harsh to be truly romantic but they were the last patrons of the evening and it was quiet. A swing band was playing the hits on the wireless, something by the Glen Miller Orchestra. Once they were inside a wood panelled booth it was as though they were the only people in the world. When Lil excused herself for a moment, Charlie took the opportunity to blow his nose again. It was running freely and every slight sniffle fanned the ticklish, sneezy feeling and made his nostrils twitch in what he was sure was an unattractive way.

He scarcely managed to return it to his lap before Lil was hovering at his side, asking him a question in her quiet voice.

He wanted to answer her, but the tickling in his nose wasn't going away. At first he could quell it with a heavy breath out, but the next sniff in just made it worse. He was going to have to sneeze, no avoiding it. He could feel his nostrils flaring, and he barely had time to snatch his handkerchief from his pocket before-

“Ha-TCCh-oo!” The sound is heavier than he hoped it would be, yet it does little to quell the itch, leaving him blinking at the light in the ceiling in anticipation of another. “Hah- Hk---KSSch! Ugh, I'm sorry. Excuse me.”

“Bless you.”

“Th-thank y- Ha---TSCHuh!”

“Bless you!”

Lil touched his arm just for a moment,and suddenly he felt fine again. Then she slid into the booth opposite him and he found himself shivering with sudden chills at the withdrawal of her heat.

“What do you want to eat?” He asked, to distract her. “I'm not too hungry, but...”

She gave him a sympathetic eye. “You need to eat something. I'm sure they don't feed you boys enough. Perhaps some soup? I'll have some if you will.”

Suddenly soup sounded like the best idea anyone had ever had.

“You drive a hard bargain.” He gave her a smile, and she returned it. This was going better than he had expected. Unfortunately it couldn't last.

Their food arrived and he was surprised by how glad he was of it. It was hot and soothing on his throat, less painful to swallow than a sandwich would have been. At the same time, the steam from it made his nose run so much he had to retreat to the restroom to blow it. When he came back, no sooner did he sit back down then he was sneezing again. He struggled with it for a long moment, blinking furiously. The itch was everywhere, in his eyes, in his throat, right through his nose. He hovered the handkerchief in his open hands and turned away, waiting.

“You'll have to to huh...ah-” Nothing. He shook his head then it mounted again. “Excuse me, sorry...

hk-TCCh-oo! Ha-TSSh-uh! TSSch!... ugh...”

He finished with a little groan. His handkerchief was very much the worse for wear, and every rub irritated his already red nostrils. His nose and upper lip were starting to smart in the air.

Lillian saw his discomfort and without saying a word reached in her purse and drew out her own hankie, smaller than his and more delicate, but mercifully clean and dry.

“I'b sorry.” He said thickly as he took it.

“No, the right answer is 'thank you.'” She paused. “And you're welcome. You keep it.”

Her sharp, dark eyes caught his fingers pressing above his eyes. “You're getting a headache.” It was an comment, not a question, so he didn't correct her that he had, in fact, had the wretched thing all day. It was merely intensifying as the congestion got harder to handle. As it was, her compassionate observation made his heart swoop in her chest as surely as any overt expression of sympathy might have done. Maybe she really cares for me. Maybe...

Things were less awkward after that. They talked for a long time, punctuated by the occasional burst of sneezes, quickly stifled.  Again and again he had to interrupt her or himself to cough. Eventually he gave up trying to contain it and just turned from her, one hand holding the hankie in a polite fist over his mouth, the heel of the other pressing into the top of his ribcage to ease the ache there.

“I'm so sorry. What were you saying?”

Lil had finished her own soup while his remained mostly untouched. She put her spoon down and closed her hand around his own where he returned it to the table.

“Never mind that. You sound awful, Charlie.”

He shrugged. “I'm alright. It's just a h-hah...” His voice rose in pitch, he couldn't help it. “Just a... a head cold... excuse m'TSSCu!-IDSTchuh!-TSSCHah!” Oh darn, that was loud and as wet as it sounded.

“Bless. Some head cold.”

“I'm sorry, you must think I'm disgusting. I- I sneeze a lot when I'm sick. It's nothing, really.”

“So I see. Maybe we should get the bill, anyway.”

He did so, grateful for the distraction. Rising to his feet to get the bill made him feel woozy for a moment, and another shiver ran through him, pricking up the hairs on his arms. He helped her into her coat and then paused, facing her. In her heels she was only a little shorter than he was and he could look right into her eyes. They were a lovely brown, clear and kind of serious. He was blushing again, he just knew it. Still, no harm in asking.

“So...Lil... d'you want to go hear a band?”

Her eyes sparkled, and then narrowed as she looked him up and down.

“I don't know, Charlie.” She said, “May I-”

Before he could pull away Lil reached up and cupped a hand at his cheek, trying to feel his temperature.

“Hmm.” She said, shaking her head. In truth it was too warm out to tell, but she didn't like the glazed look in his eyes. “I think you should go to bed.”

“Oh.” Charlie stuttered to silence. His brain felt sluggish, unable to conduct an argument and paralysed by the fear that maybe she didn't want to go dancing, didn't want to be seen with him. He couldn't blame her, he was a mess.

“Well, I- hk-KISChuh!” It burst out before he could stop it. He smothered the sneeze and the ones that followed with his wrist but they still tore his throat and made his head ache. He found himself thinking how much more miserable they would be in his bunk by himself when they'd parted ways and all his buddies were out picking up their respective girls. It wasn't fair.

There was a little silence filled only by the sound of the wireless. Ella Fitzgerald was singing, oblivious to his predicament.

Stars shining bright above you

Night breezes seem to whisper 'I love you'

Birds singing in the sycamore tree...

“I like this song.” Lil said, obviously trying to fill the pause.

“Then perhaps we should have one dance.”

Perhaps he was made bold by knowing that there was no way this evening could end worse, or perhaps she was right and he was feverish. Whichever it was, with one movement, Charlie swept an arm around Lil's waist. Instinctively she settled hers at his shoulder and rested the other in his cupped hand, her fingers very slender next to his. He swayed with the music for a measure, his firm grip bringing her effortlessly into rhythm with him, and then began to spin her around the floor to an easy swing tempo. She followed easily as he swung her out then brought her into his arms again and their feet added neat percussion to the music.

Stars fading but I linger on, dear

Still craving your kiss...

There was a brief, disastrous moment when the sneezy tickle returned to his nostrils as suddenly and insistently as if he had inhaled a feather. Without even thinking he tucked his head from her, burying it in the crook of his arm to stifle it. “Kschmph!”

“Bless you.” Lil whispered into his ear, not even missing a beat as he brought her back in a neat circle.

Say nightie-night and kiss me

Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me

When I'm alone and blue as can be

Dream a little dream of me.

The spinning was starting to make him dizzy and he fudged a step, banging his shin on the hard edge of a table. Just as abruptly a male voice interrupted them from behind the counter.

“Will you two lovebirds move on already? We're closing up.”

“Right. Sorry.”

They fled, laughing, before the man could complain again.

Outside the rain had stopped, though it dripped from the trees and ran in the gutters a like river. The sky was darker but a warm wind was driving the clouds away. Charlie still hadn't let go of her arm, and she hadn't pulled away. He gave her a long, tired look.

“Guess I'll say goodnight.” He said at last. His voice was so thick, it was more of a “gooddight” and the words hurt his throat.

“Are you kidding? It's too bad to be sick and alone too.”

He was melting. He felt giddy again and this time it wasn't his cold. It was a shame he was so practical, and had to point out-

“You can't follow me back the barracks.” It was half-true. She wasn't that kind of girl and he didn't think he was that kind of man.

“If you want... it's early yet. Curfew is hours away and my landlady is out tonight. Maybe you could come in, have a cup of tea and dry your things. See if we can't find you some cough syrup....Summer colds are the worst.” she added sympathetically.

Optimism soared in Charlie's chest. “Well, if you'll be home alone, you at least need someone to walk you back.”

“That's the spirit.”

“And we'll go dancing another time?”

“Absolutely. Come on.”

So he took her arm again and they set off along the street. Despite the cooler air he was feeling better than he had all day, all things considered, better than he had for weeks. Shadows lengthened around them, the crickets began to chirp again and Lil was singing under her breath.

Dream a little dream of me...

[fluidforthought]

The Gender Tag

I thought this could be fun.  I know, I know I am really late to the party... but that’s ok :).  I’ve only just begun to dive into gender so this is all new to me and I’m excited so let’s do this!

Q. How do you self-identify your gender, and what does that definition mean to you?

A.  I would identify as genderfluid, but also have just become aware of the term transmasculine.  Genderfluid means, to me, that I fluctuate between the opposite ends of the gender spectrum.  One day I feel far more masculine but I don’t have a problem with looking beautiful as a women either.  This is where the term transmasculine might serve more purpose for me.  However, right now in this moment I prefer to masculinize myself over feminize.  I am much more overall comfortable and confident with myself when I present more masculine despite being born a female.  

Q.  What pronouns honor you?

A.  This is tough for me right now.  I would say I prefer either she/her or he/him over they/them.  For me personally they/them feels impersonal.  I have not asked anyone to change or use he/him when referring to me but I often refer to myself as he/him (I tend to use words like boi and bro when referring to myself.  I don’t feel that right now it is a big problem for others to continue with she/her.  I do not like being called a woman though, I don’t like the word woman, and I can’t explain why.  That being said I don’t know that I want to be called a man either.  This is obviously something I am still trying to work through myself, so what a long answer.  In a perfect world it would be cool if everyone could tell what gender I was representing on any given day and choose the appropriate pronouns, but they aren’t a huge deal to me.  Right now anyway.  

Q.  Describe the style of clothing that you most often wear. 

A.  T-shirts and jeans or shorts, tennis shoes.  I’m in the process of amping up my wardrobe to fit what I see in my head.  I’ve been wearing bro tanks and khaki colored knee length shorts for the summer, some casual dude shoes or flip flops from the guys section.  I’ve realized how much I love bow ties and neckties and have begun a collection of them, and would like to grow my button up shirt collection.  I bought some very sleek men’s dress shoes too.  I want my clothing to be the definition of dapper.  Gentlemanly.  

Q.  Body hair... how do you style your hair, do you have facial hair, and what do you choose to shave and not to shave? 

A.  Right now my hair on my head is tall on top and shorter on the sides.  I’m trying to figure out how I want to deal with it haha.  I either just toss a hat on my head or comb it over and throw some Old Spice Fiberwax in it to add volume.  

I don’t have facial hair because, well, none grows there.  I wonder if I would look cool with a beard?  Idk, I have never thought about that... but I’d need some help from T for that.  

I like to have clean shaven legs and armpits.  I’ve tried growing both out but I just get so uncomfortable and itchy, I can’t get myself past the itchy stage.  I’ve always liked the idea of being able to be more free with that but the discomfort is too much for me to handle.  I don’t shave above my knee though, and that means I don’t shave my junk.  I remember trying to shave that area when it first started to grow but, I hated it so I just let it go.  Needless to say it's probably been 8-10 years since I’ve done anything with that.

Q.  Do you choose to wear makeup?  Paint your nails?  What types of soaps and perfumes do you use?

A.  I didn’t wear makeup until I came to college.  I finally starting learning my freshman year and tried to wear it as expected.  But I hated how dirty in made my skin feel.  How cakey and greasy.  And there is a particular smell to a full face of makeup that I just hate.  So gradually I quite and now four years later I am back to not really ever reaching for makeup.  I take pride in the fact that I am comfortable without it.  Occasionally I like to dabble with it though, it’s a fun hobby but not a necessity.  

I don’t paint my nails any more either.  I used to a lot but it was so much work that never lasted long enough for it to be worth it.  So now I am in love with my natural nails and I have a hard time thinking about painting over them, they are healthy, no need to change them.

I’ve switched to men’s soap in the shower, a matter of fact I made the bold switch to cheap 3-in-1 soap so I don’t even buy shampoo and conditioner and body soap any more, I just use all the same stuff from one bottle. I do have a wide selection of perfumes as I wen t through a bath and body perfume phase a coupe of years ago but have faded out the use of those over time too.  I bought a cologne that I wear on “special” occasions, and I tend to use men’s deodorant (IT WORKS BETTER, and smells tasty too). 

Q.  Have you experienced being misgendered?  If so how often?

A.  I experienced this for the first time about two weeks ago!  I wear swim trunks and a tank to the pool and I was climbing out of the pool and a guy was walking past and he nodded and said “what’s up man?” This caught me off guard but I kind of liked it.  Because he perceived me as a male instead of a female which has never happened before, which means I was passing as I was expressing to an extent and that was a really epic feeling.  A little kid once called me sir due to my short hair but his mom was quick to correct him saying that I was a lady.  I didn’t like that.  

Q.  Do you experience dysphoria?  How does that affect you?  

A.  I wouldn’t say I really experience dysphoria.  But I do experience a lot of euphoria.  When I am going about my life as a female I don’t excessively hate any of my parts.  I don’t experience feeling disconnected with my anatomy.  However, when I pack, I feel absolutely on top of this world.  I am far more confident in myself and more courageous.  And it has only been the last couple of months where when I am packing I wish so badly that I had a binder, to simply complete the feeling, the whole desired expression.  But when I don’t pack I don’t feel any less than I am which I am very thankful for.  

Q.  Children, are you interested?  Would you want to carry a child if that were an option for you?  Do you want to be the primary caretaker for any children you may have? 

A.  Children is the hardest question ever!!  I still feel confused about whether or not I want them.  I’ve always felt like I would want to carry a baby, to experience that intense connection with a human being for 9 months, I’ve always thought that I would like to understand what it is like to be pregnant.  But I’ve never really seen myself keeping it (like maybe I carried it as a surrogate or something).  I’ve never felt very comfortable around kids, I don’t know how to act or talk or simply be with kids without feeling an insane amount of awkward.  I don’t know why this is the case I have four younger siblings I should be comfortable.  

I don’t think I would resent having a kid if it happened, especially if it was with a long term partner, the thought of a small family is something I have always loved but just never decided if it was really what I want.  Maybe fur babies??? ;)

If I did have my own kids of course I would want to be the primary caretaker, well me and my partner together.  I would want to be able to support them and love them and teach them and watch them grow everyday.

Q.  Is it important to you to provide for a family financially if you choose to have one?  Is it important to you that you earn more than any partner you may have?  Do you prefer to pay for things like dates?  Are you uncomfortable when others pay for you or offer to pay for you? 

A.  Money isn’t as important to me as it probably should be.  I have always wanted to put love first.  I believe that with love, you have everything.  But if I did have a family absolutely I would want to be able to provide for them.  I would want to be able to spoil them and surprise them.  I would want to be able to set up autopay for my bills because I had money left over every month and never have to worry about waiting for the next paycheck before I could pay the electric bill.  

I don’t care who makes more money, that shouldn’t matter, setting unfair pay based on gender aside...  I don’t like that competition.  

I wouldn’t say I prefer to pay for dates, I like to take turns.  If the date was my idea I pay, your idea?  You pay.  Evening stuff like that out I think is important.  And yes I am uncomfortable when someone offers to pay for me, and that goes for EVERYONE,  even my grandparents.  I want to pay sometimes, again, let’s even things out.  I always feel obligated to pay back.  

Q.  Anything else you want to share about your experience with gender?

A.  I didn’t even realize I needed to step back and look at gender until a year and a half ago.  And now that I have, I fell so proud of myself.  I’ve made baby steps to feeling more comfortable in my own skin.  I have realized that I don’t need to be so concerned with what others think, I am me and that is truly all that matters.  I have never felt so confident.  I am talking to strangers, I’m sharing love with people when I used to feel the need to bottle it up and save for very specific people.  But everyone is deserving of love.  

I keep saying I feel my heart has grown three sizes sense I started looking at my gender.  I feel more open and accepting than I ever have before and that is liberating.  I’m sharing more and more of myself with people when I’ve always been so, so shy and quiet.  I’m letting people in and I’m allowing myself to form in the public eye and I’ve just never felt so excited!

I’ve realized that I simply want to be a gentleman, so that is just what I will be.  

[uwa-so-frisk]

Hi! I'd like to request a oneshot where Frisk and Mettaton have a hangout, either right before the True Pacifist Ending(no genocide) or after the ending. Mettaton never really got a hangout or a chance to show his softer side towards Frisk during the game like Papyrus, Undyne, and Alphys did, and I'd love to see one. And maybe Frisk could be nervous around or slightly scared of Mettaton at first, but warm up to him once he shows his softer side. Thanks for letting me submit a request!

CEOs Should Wear Tu-Tus

read the fic on AO3

Mettaton is so busy getting ready to open his first hotel on the Surface after the barrier falls he almost forgets to feel guilty for trying to kill Frisk that one time…almost. If he’s honest, it bothers him very much. But he needs to do this, and that, and check on Alphys who’s building a body for Napstablook and…oh, who’s that in the lab?

Sharp heels on tile floor echoed against the walls, followed by dull footsteps at a faster tempo. Mettaton walked through the near empty hallways in his Underground resort wearing his humanoid form with one of his assistants close on his bright pink heels. Several weeks of preparations to move larger items to the surface with a new elevator were all ready to go. The extra doors in the lobby stood where Glamburgers and Face Steaks used to be sold but the relocation of the cafe was more than worth it.

“Over here, darlings,” he said as he approached the group by the shiny new doors. “We’re almost done here. Soon the carpenters and electricians will go upstairs and start to disassemble some of the rooms for remodeling. We need more human friendly rooms if we want this to ever become the true gateway between the surface and Underground, which of course, with all of your efforts, I don’t doubt it will be.”

Four bunny monsters clapped enthusiastically, making Mettaton preen under their attention. He didn’t think that would ever get old.

“I’ll go meet them to make sure we go over the blueprints one more time. Ping us if you need anything, Mettaton!”

The monster who spoke, the one with yellow fur and a bright green nose, gestured to her teammates and all seven bunnies disappeared down the hallway he and his assistant came from. A handful of people remained looking for direction. Mettaton smiled like he practiced in the mirror every morning and brought the monster behind him to the front. His cat-like ears looked much bigger without the MTT-Brand Burger Emporium’s hat sitting between them.

“Alright so, uh, Mettaton here put me in charge of this group headed to the surface on this elevator for the first time. So we’re all gonna just make the most of this ride, right?”

With a genial pat on the shoulder, Mettaton left his assistant in charge of the remaining monsters and headed for his personal transporter that would take him through Hotland to Alphys’s lab. He needed to recharge the batteries on this body. On the walk to meet the Lavaperson clinging to the ledge near the entrance, he wondered if the royal scientist had had a chance to work on improvements for this body while building the other in her workshop.

The ride from the top of the volcanic crag to the bottom was short and convenient. Mettaton was one of few monsters that ever interacted with the Lavaperson, cousin to the Riverpeople as far as anyone knew, so he was subject to more than one comment during the trip down. While his body, comprised of magic and metal, could withstand extreme temperatures by design, holding onto lava rocks on the way down a volcanic waterfall between the Resort and Lab was not a feat he’d attempted. Yet.

“Oh, Alphys!”

A metallic crash made Mettaton wince as he walked into the Lab. When he rounded a corner he saw the good doctor picking up tools from the floor where her tray had fallen. A bright blue, silver and black metallic body lay out on a table next to her which made his Soul swell for a moment - Blooky’s body! - before he rushed over. He held the tray for her as she inspected each delicate instrument for any accidental damage. Flamboyant as he was, he still tried not to frighten Alphys, but it was unfortunately so simple to do. Once done, he stood and placed it where Alphys pointed, then looked over to the other side of the room when something moved out of the corner of his optic tracking modules.

Dark hair and dark eyes rounded the corner behind one of the exam benches in the room. Brightly lit, this lab was much more clinical than the True Lab beneath their feet, so it made Frisk’s dirty complexion stand out.

“Darling, are you alright?”

Before the child answered, Mettaton felt Alphys’s hand on his arm. “They came here after tripping in H-hotland. I was c-closest and they were hurt and I j-just, uh, I don’t have any-”

Mettaton put one of his hands over Alphys’s and smiled softly, genuinely, which made her stammering stop before it became a rushed stuttered monologue. “Quite alright. I can help if Frisk would like me to?”

Frisk, still partially hiding behind the table that held Napstablook’s robot shell, stepped out a bit and stood at their full height when addressed. They cocked their head to the side for a moment, considering the robot quietly with the same expression Mettaton remembered from their first few encounters. The only way he could think to describe it was determined. The child nodded and walked up towards them, stopping before they got close enough for Mettaton to reach out and touch, but the reduced distance felt like an improvement. He hadn’t interacted with the child one on one since he’d, well, tried to kill them, for which he was ashamed now. A small sigh came from Alphys behind Mettaton, relaxing some of the tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding since spotting the human that had broken the Barrier months ago.

Standing much closer, the extent of the damage to the child’s clothes was painfully obvious. No blood, thankfully, Alphys likely attended to that messy part. “Darling, come with me, we need to get you into something more comfortable.”

Mettaton turned towards the room at the end of the lab where he kept some of his belongings even after moving into the Resort full-time. The light tapping of small feet behind him made him smile.

“I can fix your clothes in a snap, darling, though I’m sure you’d find something you like here!” Arms throwing a pair of double doors wide, Mettaton invited Frisk into the suite he used to occupy before the fall of the Barrier. Modest considering the monster who lived there it still boasted a closet that spanned the length of one entire wall, the bathroom repurposed to expand it even further.

Frisk stopped to stare at the entrance to the enormous closet, eyes reflecting the multitude of lights, their mouth formed in a little “oh” of amazement. It takes all of a few seconds before they’re broken out of their reverie and are sprinting from one rack to the next, reaching up to touch a shirt here or a pair of shoes there. Strictly, Mettaton did not need the shoes, but he couldn’t bear to not purchase an entire matching set. He had to have the best!

A twitch of a finger started playing music from the stereo in the corner, soft and poppy and just enough to provide some atmosphere. This human child was deaf, or so he’d been told, but Frisk never had a problem hearing the music in the Underground as evidenced by the little tapping of their feet as they paused in front of a barrage of sparkling skirts. Madonna could get anyone moving.

“Point to what you’d like to try and we’ll get you changed. Blooky will be by soon to take a look at what Alphys is building for him, I hope, and we should get you dressed for the occasion.

Party? Frisk signed, arms moving broadly.

Mettaton chuckled, smiling indulgently down at this tiny creature that easily slipped into the hearts of every monster they met. He forms his hands in a mimicry of Frisk and repeats the sign, but much smaller. His hard drive was chock-full of every language known to man and monster so understanding and speaking to Frisk was no task. He used sign as he answered, “Napstablook doesn’t enjoy the limelight like you or I, darling.”

Frisk nodded to show they understood, and points empirically up at the display of frilly clothes. I still want to give Blooky a little party.

“Yes, let’s!”

With the precision of a mechanical monster robot who made all of his own performance outfits, Mettaton took what Frisk chose from his closet and created a dapper little outfit in the perfect size. Frisk watched each movement with eyes as wide as saucers and giggle fits every time the monster had to pull this, that, or the other over a ticklish part of their body. The mechanics of the human body elude and fascinate him.

Dressed, cleaned up, and dimples on display, Frisk preened in front of the full set of mirrors to admire Mettaton’s handiwork. Their hair had protested at most attempts to comb it into a semblance of a style but he was hardly deterred, the results worth every moment of careful primping. He was almost prouder of the results than Frisk. Turning this way and that they made sure to catch every angle of the outfit that they could. A pinstripe vest with dark red button up on top, a pair of trim black slacks stopping artfully on their shiny shoes, all offset with a cluster of tulle in the middle. The entire look makes Mettaton think more CEOs should wear custom made tu-tus, but it could just be Frisk making it look this good.

Without warning, the human rushed off the pedestal to hug as far around as they could of his legs. Mettaton felt a pink magical blush cover his cheek chitin before leaning over to scoop the child up into his arms.

“You’re very welcome, darling, I’m glad you like it,” he said, tone soft and sincere. “Now, let’s go meet Alphys in the lab and see if Blooky is here yet!”

Frisk agreed and points with their finger again towards the direction of the lab. The way they act melts his metaphorical heart, since they’re no longer flinching at the sight of him even after what he attempted to do, even demanding to be carried back across the lab so Frisk could use both hands to tell him a story. To receive the full attention of Frisk is to be drawn into their charm, which Mettaton happily does.

Whether Napstablook is ready to make the move into a new body today or not, Mettaton counts it as a win as the little ambassador clings to his shoulder chassis in a way he didn’t know he needed. Maybe he really is forgiven.

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

First Annual Tres Spades Jello Wrestling Tournament - Part Three

Last episode on ‘First Annual Tres Spades Jello Wrestling Tournament’

Having escaped Eisuke’s wrath, Miho learns at the very last minute that the organisers of her jello tournament have contracted measles, and won’t be arriving. In a pinch, she is forced to concoct a new plan with a little help from her friends, including making a deal with Ota to allow him to do anything with her.

CLICK to read Part Two

“You’re late,” Eisuke dropped when Miho strode down the corridor on the second level, hanging up her phone for the second time.

“And your tie is crooked,” Miho sighed, digging her fingers into the knot of his tie and adjusting it.

“This mess of yours had better not embarrass the Tres Spades,” he told her sternly, but he allowed her to set his tie straight and smooth it flat down his chest. “Or, I may bypass Soryu and throttle you myself.”

“No… no this is going to work,” Miho declared confidently. “You just need to trust me.”

“Trust the woman who got me drunk so she could have her way?” he posed, eyes narrowed.

“You really are fixated on that idea, aren’t you, Ichinomiya?” she smiled. “And maybe, maybe if you’re co-operative, I’ll actually let you… beg, me for it.”

“Now who’s fixated?” he smirked, coiling long fingers under her chin, and for a moment, Miho actually allowed it.

“I’m going to make you a lot of money tonight,” she told him clearly, still, even as Eisuke’s thumb tapped the point of her chin. “And I’m going to do it, with my clothing on.”

Comfortable despite the angry swarm of butterflies threatening to burst from her stomach, Miho dug the earpiece and microphone from her pocket and fixed it in place, before offering Eisuke her other hand.

“We’ll see about that,” he told her, releasing her chin and wrapping his hand around hers.

Inhaling to the absolute capacity of her lungs, Miho prepared herself for her greatest challenge yet.

As they pushed from concealment, she and Eisuke were met with a sudden silence, until she found her voice, and it called loud and clear through the announcement system.

“Ladies… and gentlemen…” she began, because of course there were some in the audience so inclined. “Please welcome the king, your illustrious overeer, the dapper, dreamy, demanding, dominant, owner of half of Japan and no doubt your hearts – and other places – Ichinomiya Eisuke!”

The vibration from the audience’s thunderous applause and their wild, hooting shouts must have been felt all throughout the hotel, and even Eisuke seemed a little surprised by the vigour of his greeting.

“Such love,” Miho laughed with the microphone off, as she saw Eisuke to a throne, and came to stand beside him like a good royal advisor.

He he – evil patron god.

Or is it goddess? Whatever, let’s not get bogged down in a debate about gender labelling, when the important matter here is the imminent struggle of naked men in a pit full of delightful blue jello.

“My name is Fujiwara Miho, and I will be your host for this evening’s program, that has changed,” she then declared, and hush once more fell upon the crowd. “Please allow me to draw your attention to the tablets you were handed upon entry,” she continued, and despite the number of people listening to her, it was Eisuke’s scrutiny she felt the heaviest.

Oh, you just wait.

“You will notice the names you saw earlier have disappeared, and it would seem, at first glance anyway, that you have been deceived.”

Murmurs began as the members of the audience checked their devices, and began to question what was going on.

“Don’t fret,” Miho smiled, her voice syrupy, the sweep of her arm exaggerated until it came to rest upon the back of Eisuke’s throne. “What I have planned, is so… much… better.”

As she finished this sentence, each word emphasised for effect, Miho’s gaze sought out where Ota stood at the very edge of the jello pit – and her lips mouthed a silent woof.

“Throughout the evening you will see on your devices and upon the big screen, names you may or may not know,” Miho continued. “But don’t concern yourselves with that too much, their names aren’t all that important, not tonight – that isn’t what you’re here for. All you need do is watch, enjoy, and indulge in the opportunities I present to you, and if they appeal… hit that donate button and make your dream come true.”

It was as she finished this statement, that Miho’s eyes fell upon a group, centre-most, front row – a group of women surrounded by serious looking men. Well, serious until Miho made eye contact with Subaru, at whom she winked and blew a kiss.

“Forget credit card limits,” Miho then spoke again, flourishing each word with gestures the Mad Hatter would be proud of, “forget the nags of your regular lives, and feast with me.”

She turned, then, to the light touch of Eisuke’s hand on her backside.

“What are you up to, Fujiwara?” he hissed, and Miho just beamed… licked her lips… then pecked ever so lightly upon his.

“Don’t fight it,” she told him brazenly, then straightened, and threw up her arms. “First! For your appreciation, a man you may well recognise, with a cherub exterior and face capable of melting even the coldest of hearts. Artist and model, always cutting a stylish silhouette in the latest fashion, we’re all much more interested in seeing him without – I give you angelic Ota!”

“What?” Eisuke blinked, and he wasn’t the only man in the room to double-take as a camera focused on where Ota stood, and he appeared on a big screen above the crowd.

Amid the clapping and whistling, Baba looked to Ota at his side in shock.

“Seriously?”

“It’ll be worth it to put a collar around that throat,” Ota smiled as he pointed a slender figure up at Miho – more than a little sinister Baba thought.

“What? Wait whose throat? Miho?” Baba blurted, but Ota had already slipped off his shoes and socks, jumped over the railing, and was wading through the mid-shin deep blue jello to the centre of the pit.

Screams of excitement and appreciation collided with one another, the atmosphere charged with anticipation.

Ota fixed his gaze on Miho, and she on him.

“He’s a little over-dressed for the occasion, don’t you think ladies?” Miho called, sweeping her arm at the audience and holding up one of the tablets for them to see. “Just how MUCH do you want to see this perfect sculpture in all its glory?”

A counter appeared on the big screen, a number that rapidly began to rise, much to Miho’s relief, and Eisuke’s surprise.

“I don’t know how you convinced him to do it,” he smirked, placing his hand in the small of Miho’s back.

“You don’t want to know,” she chuckled, lifting her eyes to the donated amount as it crossed twenty thousand… thirty… forty… then she raised her voice to the microphone once more. “Oooh, such enthusiasm! How could Ota disappoint his fans now?”

Eye contact again as Ota positioned his fingers on the top button of his shirt.

“Do it,” Miho mouthed, caressing her throat suggestively, and Ota began pulling buttons free, much to the delight of the audience.

Then another piece fell into place.

Even as Ota threw his shirt into the audience, gobbled up by squabbling women, a second figure entered the pit with his face set in determination.

“You know she’s not a dog,” Baba frowned at Ota, who, used to being watched by a large crowd was actually basking in the adoration of his fans. “Miho isn’t the type to wear a collar for anyone.”

“Really?” Ota smirked, pulling away his belt buckle dramatically. “She promised me anything, so I can assure you, that little puppy - pussy and all – will…”

“I’ll fight you for it… for her,” Baba announced, throwing his hat like a frisby far up into the terrace.

“Will you look at that?” Miho declared, her voice a power even above the booming collective. “A wild Mitsunari appears! Built for action, adventure, and oozing the desire to please, our man in red is a consummate lover and devotee to the ways of a true gentleman.”

She caught his eye as she spoke, while Ota swung his pants around his head before flinging them away like all other articles of clothing so far. Baba looked a little confused for a second, searching Miho’s face, but seemed to exhale a laugh and shake his head when she only smiled back at him amiably.

“Looks like we have a challenger!” Miho proclaimed, and Baba’s name appeared on the big screen, Ota’s above it, both with a ‘donation’ ticker counting just how much their audience wanted to see them get bare. “Show Mitsunari a little love, ladies,” she crooned, and grinned when Baba’s tie was cast aside.

Volume intensifies.

Regardless of her little agreement with Ota, Miho tipped her chin upward a little in gratification when Ota removed his briefs and adopted a confident, ready posture. She knew for a fact there was no way Baba would allow her to be subjected to Ota’s twisted fetish, that had never been a concern, but she had to pay Ota some respect for how openly he displayed himself.

“Impressive,” she appraised, and the crowd seemed to agree. “Ladies, hit those buttons if you’re imagining your nails leaving red marks against that perfect skin!”

“Why’s she talking you up so much?” Baba muttered, discarding his shirt before beginning on his pants.

“It’s obvious,” Ota smirked, walking a slow circle around Baba. “Beneath that hostile, take-charge exterior, she’s a secret sub.”

“Well actually,” Baba began, but thought better of revealing carnal details.

Instead, he removed his belt, and with a mischievous smile, flicked Ota on the ass with it.

“Oooh, that looked like it hurt!” Miho laughed. “But please, please Mitsunari, don’t keep us in suspense any longer – I know you’ll give them what they’re after,” she stated. “You never fail to satisfy.”

One hundred thousand, and Baba’s pants were gone… one-fifty… two hundred… he dodged Ota who didn’t seem to be waiting for his revenge, then somehow managed to expose himself completely.

And for a few seconds, Ota looked a little deflated.

“Remember gentlemen,” Miho said. “The game is on until one of you yields. Ladies, choose your champion, and show them just how much you value the care they take of those magnificent those bodies.”

And the donations ticker passed fifty thousand – but Miho knew she had to do much better than that.

“Who is fighting for lust, and who for honour?” she questioned as Ota and Baba sized each other up.

It seemed neither wanted to make the first move, but it seemed inevitable Ota would.

“Whoa,” Inui breathed in something resembling awe. “Why would you ever agree to something like that?”

“Pride and stupidity, Soryu dropped, looking up at where Eisuke was observing with a restrained sneer. “And that woman…”

“But it’s not enough, is it?” Miho sighed heavily into the microphone. “We need more, strong hands, we need more, arms you’d love to have hold you, ass you’d love to squeeze.”

Just as she said this, Ota started forward and tackled Baba around the waist. They splashed back into the lagoon of cerulean gelatine, and emerged a few seconds later as an artless flail of arms and legs.

Soryu rolled his eyes.

“What we need,” Miho beamed, “is someone with a bit of technique someone who is completely and utterly without fear…”

She hadn’t spoken his name, but Soryu’s head snapped up.

“… a man so completely unshakeable, there is no danger too great he wouldn’t face for the woman he loves. Truly, his only real challenge is being as hot as he is intimidating.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Soryu dropped, as both Miho and Eisuke looked at him, the latter with expectancy in his gaze.

“Such a fitting name,” Miho asserted, “the chiselled majesty of Mr. Oh will have you moooooaning.”

“Boss, your name is up there!” Inui blinked, and behind them, Mieke let out a short laugh.

“I can see that,” Soryu maligned, putting his hand on Inui’s shoulder, before shoving him forward.

“What?” Inui yelped.

“If I’m going, so are you,” Soryu said flatly, no compromise allowed.

“What really?”

“Get in there before I throw you in,” Soryu huffed, then followed Inui into the pit.

“He’s going to kill you, you know,” Eisuke told her in amusement.

“Nah,” Miho shrugged, taking a second to enjoy the rush of adrenaline within her veins before raising her voice once more. “And look! Overflowing with boyish charm, and exuding an innocence you really just want to bite into, delightful Inui aim’s to please.”

“No way!” Inui exclaimed before being hit in the face with Soryu’s shirt. “Hey, I can’t…”

His sentence was interrupted as Baba and Ota, both trying to wrestle the other into a headlock, bumped into him.

“I actually think he’s more likely to kill you, Ichinomiya,” Miho giggled, then bit her lip as Soryu finished disrobing. “Hoooo, ladies did it just get hot in here?” she questioned, moving away from Eisuke and walking half way down the ramp that connected the mezzanine where Eisuke’s throne was, to the edge of the pit. “Icy stare,” she began again, staring into the dark of Soryu’s eyes. “Icy demeanour, but Mr. Oh is not pure ice – purely delectable maybe. Why don’t you show us, Mr. Oh, how you train your subordinates?”

2 million.

2.4.

2.6.

“Well, I guess if the boss is doing it,” Inui shrugged, and though he didn’t look entirely convinced, he began to strip.

“Fujiwara,” came a sharp call though her ear piece, the voice of one of the hotel staff, but he didn’t need to provide details.

Though she didn’t hear the scream through the ruckus, she saw a woman’s body tumble forward and splash inelegantly into the jello.

Baba and Ota were occupied, and Soryu was standing over Inui as he lost his underwear, so none immediately noticed the woman in peril. Three men in the crowd who had been situated nearby, trying up until the point to go unnoticed, pressed against the railing then jumped over before security could stop them.

“What do we have here?” Miho mused, as the crowd fixated on the fallen woman, who had managed to scramble to her feet and was stumbling drunk in the direction of Soryu, while her male pursuers followed. “I know these faces,” Miho then grinned, seeing Mieke appear at the edge of the pit from the corner of her eye. “Mmm a couple of bodies I’d like to guard, well trained and disciplined bodies around whom one need never feel unsafe.”

“Is she…” Subaru dropped, momentarily distracted by Miho’s voice.

“Forget her, protect the prime minister’s daughter,” Ishigami scowled.

But just as the prime minister’s daughter got within Soryu groping range, Mieke swooped in.

“Not if you want to keep that hand,” she snapped, catching the wrist that reached for Soryu’s ass and hauling the blue smeared woman to her.

“She’s not quite a knight in shining armour,” Miho voice boomed from above, “but let’s hear it for the saviour of Prime Minister Hiraizumi’s daughter – Mieke!”

And despite Mieke’s lithe frame, she unceremoniously folded the woman over her shoulder and began stomping back to the edge of the pit, where hotel security was preventing a very pretty man from attempting to enter.

“Seriously,” Mieke muttered, dropping the young woman safely on her feet, much to Sora’s relief. “What the hell is this shit?”

She looked the woman up and down – white frock now stained blue, short veil pinned in her hair.

“Hen’s night,” Sora winced, as the woman drooped against him with a silly smile.

“I was thiiiis close to dat tight ass, Sora,” she slurred, her head lolling back. “Thiiiiiiiis close.”

“I can trust on the full discretion of the Tres Spades,” Sora half stated, half questioned, and Mieke peered back at him like he was stupid.

“It’s a fucking jello wrestling tournament for rich tarts to throw money at naked men, and you’re asking for discretion?” Mieke snorted. “Give me a break.”

“You do work here don’t you?” Sora frowned as Mieke cross her arms and stared sourly at her ruined jeans.

“Miho is definitely taking me shopping,” she muttered.

“Uh oh,” Miho’s voice sounded loudly while Sora tried to talk with Mieke. “Looks like pretty bride to be, daughter of Prime Minister Hiraizumi, has had a liiiiiitle too much to drink – and her protection, mhm… Subaru… Ishigami – I think the two of you ought to be punished for letting her slip through your fingers.”

Though they had turned in the direction Mieke had carried their famous client, they found their exit from the pit now barred by several hotel security members.

“Punishment doesn’t have to be painful,” Miho sang, pointing to the big screen where Ishigami and Subaru had been added. “Why don’t you show me, which agency is better?”

“You know who’s better!” Subaru shouted, and though Miho could read his lips, his voice was swallowed up.

“Ladies, dig deep for those who keep the bad guys at bay, and we’ll donate ten percent of what you give to victims’ services – helping those in need,” Miho announced, and Eisuke leaned forward to take hold of the back of her blouse and pull her into his lap.

“You never said anything about charity,” he hissed into her ear as he snaked his arm around her middle.

“You don’t like surprises?” she volleyed, leaning back against him and purposefully grinding down. “Are you positive?”

“Five percent,” he snapped into her ear, and Miho was unable to suppress a slight shudder.

“Let them have their ten,” she hummed, digging down against him, undulating her hips. “You’ll make more than enough out of this.”

“I’ll decide when I’ve had enough,” he rumbled, sliding his hand toward her lap, but she caught it, and with fingernails dug in, pried it away.

“And you’ll have your chance, just like the rest,” she told him firmly, before returning to her job. “Look at those numbers, gentlemen,” she declared, pointing from Subaru and Ishigami, who had been demanding they get let out of the pit, to the big screen. “Are you really willing to be those guys who prevented innocent victims of crime from getting the help and support they need, all because of your own selfish pride? Ladies? What do we think of that?”

6 million and climbing.

Continue to Part Four

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