#a fine fellow dressed in yellow

[ilovemarkhamill]

[bunnys-kisses]

make amends (lando's version)

lando norris & max verstappen

cw: smut/pwp, max gf!reader, sharing, forgiveness, missionary, sex w lando, protected sex (thank god!), rivalry, dirty talk/degradation, humiliation, language that can be seen a misogynistic, mean!max & lando, hair pulling

max version

bunny says: i know everything has been forgiven, but ya know... ya knoooow

max realized he had done something wrong, being presented with the evidence of the collision at the austrian grand prix had him a little second-guessing himself.

"shit." he muttered to himself. he knew that he was going to have to make it up to lando. most would just talk it out in private or even in front of the cameras. but max knew that he royally fucked up.

and it would take a fair bit for the other driver to be willing to make amends. but he knew the way that lando looked at you, how you'd often wave and him and his eyes would go wide before he dumbly waved back.

max knew exactly what would patch up their relationship. he told you over dinner before he ate you out in the bathroom. your dress pushed up and his nose against your clit. you whimpered that you would do it for him, anything to help his career!

"a night. have her, all to yourself. and all is forgiven." max said to the other driver as they were standing near a wall before they had to start practice.

lando looked at him, "have her? like, fuck her."

max's jaw tensed, "i don't want to hear anything about it afterwards. you get one fuck and that's it." he showed his finger indicating how many times lando could fuck you.

"i thought i was getting one night?" lando looked at him curiously, "how long do you think it takes me to get off?" he laughed, "but i accept your offer. name a time and place." then nudged his fellow drive in the arm.

the hotel you were staying at with max in silverstone was beautiful. then again all the places that you stayed with him were beautiful. you could tell that max was tense.

"it'll be fine, max." you said as you adjusted the lacy bra that was picked out for the evening. a harsh yellow and red, like the redbull colours. max's last ditch effort to establish some kind of dominance. you were just thankful you looked nice in it.

his eyes raked your body, "i don't want him to get the wrong idea, but it was all i could think of." his eyes met yours, "he probably doesn't even know how to fuck well."

you went over to him and took his face in your hands, "you're acting like this has never happened before. i'm pretty sure many girlfriends and wives have had to help in making sure her partner didn't have a target on his back!"

he took you by the waist and pressed his scratchy cheek against your middle. he sighed, "if he does anything."

"then." you replied as you carded your fingers through his brown hair, "he won't know what hit him."

when lando came, you greeted him at the door. you were standing there in the skimpy lingerie. the other drive chuckled, "possessive much, eh, max?"

max looked over, he was seated on the couch. he looked at him and narrowed his eyes. his attention was brought to your ass as you went in and pulled him in for a tight hug.

lando hugged you back before you took him by the hand and brought him inside. lando kicked his sneakers off and dumbly followed you through the lavish hotel room. you got into the bedroom and sat down with a smile. lando could feel max close behind before he went over and sat on the edge of the bed. lando asked, "why are you still here?"

max made a face with his bottom lip stuck out and shrugged, "have to make sure you don't try anything stupid."

lando chuckled, "right, right. not worried that you're little minx of a girlfriend is not gonna try anythin' herself?"

you looked at lando and pulled his face towards you, "will all be forgiven after tonight?"

lando laughed, "depends how good you fuck me." then ran his tongue across the top row of his teeth like a predator. he fell into the massive bed with you and felt you start to unbutton his shirt.

lando's hands wandered your exposed skin and his lips found yours. he helped you got his clothes off, especially his belt which almost hit max when lando got it off. once he was naked, he looked over at max as he undid the bra and exposed your breasts to him.

"pretty girl." he chuckled, "don't ya think, mad max?" then grinned at the other man.

max replied, "yeah, i know. i get it every night." he tried to keep a cool head which lando peeled your soaked panties off of you.

lando spoke like you weren't under him, naked and ready to be fucked. he said to max, "ya know, i think you should whore her out more often."

max frowned as he reached over and brushed your face with his knuckle, "i like to keep what is mine." you could feel the energy between the two of them. they were rivals and one was fucking the other's girlfriend.

lando chuckled, "i bet charles would love to have a spin with her." he spoke about you like you were one of the cars on the track. like you should have mclaren or redbull tattooed on your ass.

regardless it made you squirm as you felt lando's cock press against your stomach, he was painfully hard and leaky against your belly button. he was decently sized but not so much that it was intimidating.

max looked up at the fellow driver and said, "let her on top and she goes fast. don't you, mijn liefje?" then looked down at you. he could tell you were getting hot and heavy from it all.

lando started to grope your breasts as he made out with you once more. his cock was squished between your bodies and he was starting to feel hot all over.

max threw the shiny packaging of a condom at lando's head and said, "wear it."

lando picked it up from the bed and looked at max, "aw, where's your fun there, mad max?"

max replied, "i'm not raising your fucking bastard." he could feel a little hot under the collar as he watched you underneath the other driver.

lando admired your nude body as he sat up right, straddling your waist as he put the condom on. he made a noise and said, "i should've said it didn't fit." he looked at max out of the corner of his eye.

max replied, "why, they're too big?"

lando shot daggers at the other man before he bent you in half. your knees to your chest and your glistening pussy exposed to him. he licked his lips before he said, "i'll fit in here just fine though, i wonder if you could ever stretch her out. or am i the biggest she's ever had?"

he made a face when you pulled him back by the hair for him to focus on you. he looked at you with a twinkle in his eye.

"do you want to fuck me or max?" you replied, you could feel the anticipation creep up into your throat.

lando smiled at you and pressed the tip of his cock against your wet entrance. he held you by the thighs and pressed into you, "i'd rather fuck you, love. plus you got the pretty pussy." he went in for another rough kiss as he bottomed out into you.

you felt the air leave your lungs from the feeling of his cock spearing your pussy open. you dug your manicured nails into his shoulders as he got all the way to the root.

"holy shit." lando grumbled, he looked over to max as he loomed over you, "ya fuck her good, huh? what else does this little slut like?" his grin was wicked.

max held you by your hair and looked in your eyes, then to lando. he replied, "she likes when you're rough. she likes to be used, ask nicely and she might lick the cum out of your uniform."

you blushed and looked away, but max gripped your hair and make you look at him.

"tell him, mijn liefje."

you whined when you replied, "i sucked him off with his uniform still on!" then whimpered when he yanked on your hair more, "and then i licked the cum out of it when i made a mess!"

lando looked at max and said, "where the fuck did you find her?"

max went back to stroking your hair and replied, "they don't 'em like her anymore.' he smiled, feeling a bit smug by how impressed lando was with you, "there's no money in the world that could buy a girl like this."

lando gripped onto your hips as he rocked into you. your pussy was nice around his cock, "well, she is a fine piece of ass. a nice little whore to bury your cock in."

max replied, he laid out beside you. he felt hot in the jeans and t-shirt he wore. he also felt out of place. he looked at you, your naked body under the other man. "wouldn't have kept her as long if she wasn't good at fucking. i don't have the patience to train someone."

"oh, so she was already broken in?"

max shook his head as he reached for you breasts and palmed one of them, "oh no. she was brand new when i got my hands on her. never even sucked cock before." the language they were using made you feel like a toy that had been used over and over again. but it also made the heat rise to your ears.

you felt squished under lando and your heart was in your throat. max rarely spoke about you like that, in such terms. but behind closed doors, well you were just the verstappan's sex toy who he got to parade around the paddock.

make the likes of lando jealous.

"trained her huh, you should take a second career in girl training." lando chuckled before he looked back at you. he cupped your face and moved your head from side to side, "world needs more good little sluts like you."

your pussy clenched around lando's cock and he loved the feeling of that. you whimpered as he started to pick up the pace. the sounds of sex and your heavy breathing filled the air.

you matched lando's pace as he cock bullied your insides. your panted and moaned, you clawed at his back, making a mess of it! your heart hammered in your chest as you laid under him.

max's hand was in your hair as the man watched you being fucked. he hoped that lando kept his end of the bargain, or else he was going to make sure that smug fucker wasn't getting podium in silverstone. he didn't give away his girl's cunt for nothing.

"that's a good girl." lando said, "fuck yeah."

he managed to pull, one, two and eventually three orgasms out of you. you were a mess under him. each orgasm hit like a train and turned you brain off. you panted and whined like an animal as he just kept going.

sweat covered your body and you face felt hot. your cunt squeezed his cock as if it never wanted to let it go. the entire scene was hot. if only the press got their hands on this story, then everyone would know that you were a filthy whore.

with a few more hard thrusts of his hips, lando gripped onto your hips and shoved his entire length into your cunt. he came in the condom with your wet cunt around it. part of him wish he could've bare-backed you.

"fuckin' hell!" he croaked. his legs felt like jelly as his pace staggered then slowed. he could feel the pinpricks of heat at the nape of his neck. the rush made his head throb.

"lando." you whimpered.

lando looked down at you and licked the sweat off your cheek, "good girl." he got off of you and went to get rid of the condom. he was panting like an animal as he staggered over to the waste bin to toss it out. he leaned against the wall for a moment, the energy taken out of him.

"holy shit." he said.

max had you in his arms. still in his clothes. you had taken to rubbing your achy cunt all over the expensive calvin kleins. you left a sticky wet spot on the thigh.

"you liked that didn't you?" he asked. you whined in response.

"hey verstappen." lando said as he came back to bed, "give me another condom, you said all night."

max looked at you then him as lando crawled behind you. he leaned over to the nightstand behind him and pulled out the box.

"value pack? are you that cheap, verstappen?"

"no. because when you eventually get tired with her. i'm going next."

[lewisvinga]

american | logan sargeant

summary; y/n was never one to mess around and rebel against her parents, until she met a fellow american, logan

warnings; clubbing/partying, drinking

word count; 1.15k

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

note; american boyyyy, not rlly proofread tbh

‘born to die’ series masterlist.

masterlist !

“Y/n, fix your posture and stand up straight.”

Y/n’s mother scolded her as they entered a family friend's house. They were invited to an event to kick off the summer at the Sargeants, friends of the L/n family, in Miami.

Y/n sighed as she listened to her mother and stood straight, fixing her knee-length dress. She was never one to disobey her parents. Despite studying at the University of Miami, she never attended parties or drank. She never rebelled.

Her mother hums in satisfaction as they walk farther into the house to head to the backyard where everyone is. Y/n was soft-spoken and quiet, following her parents around as they greeted everyone.

But after an hour, she got thirsty and decided to get a bottle of water. The water cooler was right next to the beers and other alcoholic beverages. She glanced at the cooler for a second too long when a voice interrupted her.

“Well, Y/n L/n. You look so pretty.”

She looked up in shock and was met with familiar icy blue eyes and a cheeky smile she hadn’t seen since she was 13. “Logan! You’re back?” She exclaimed with a smile.

“It’s been a hot minute but the Miami Grand Prix is next week and I had this week off.” The Blonde explained with a smile. His head then nodded towards the cooler of the alcoholic beverages, “Which one do you like?”

“Oh, no!” Y/n exclaimed, quickly shaking her head before reaching for a water bottle. “I don’t drink. Never have.”

“And you go to UMiami and you don’t drink? At all?”

She simply shrugged in reply, fiddling with the ends of her yellow sundress. “No. Don’t really party either. But it’s fine, I like to focus on studying-“

“Nonsense!” Logan interrupted her, “You’re still a goody two shoes. You were always scared to step out of line.” He chuckled.

Her eyebrows furrowed up as her cheeks started to heat up. “No!” She said in defense. “Maybe? I mean, I don’t want to break any of their rules. I’m grateful for all that they give me!”

“Hey,” The Williams driver began with a cheeky smile, “Wanna head out of here? Take a spin ‘round town. The weather's nice.”

His blue eyes remained on hers as she let out a small hum. She glanced back at her parents who were already drinking and busy talking to their friends. She looked at him with a smile before saying, “Fine. Let’s get out of here.”

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“Oh, Springsteen!” Y/n exclaimed as the familiar voice of the singer began to play in Logan’s Porsche. The top was opened and there was a slight breeze as he drove through the neighborhood.

“Of course!” The Blonde replied, glancing over at her. “Dude he’s like the king. Don’t you think?” He said, tilting his head down so she could see his eyes from above his black sunglasses.

She chuckles as she adjusts the Prada glasses resting on her nose. “Oh, hell yes! That guy can sing. But personally, I’m a fan of Elvis.”

“Presley?” He asked in shock.

“Oh, yeah! He’s the best.”

“What’s your favorite record of his?”

“I’m a big fan of Burning Love at the moment.”

Thankfully, there was a red light right at the neighborhood exit. Logan reaches for his phone which is already connected to his car to play the song. Y/n couldn’t help but let out an excited laugh as the familiar intro began to play.

The light turned green and he began to drive on the main roads. The speed limit was higher which meant that as he sped down the roads, the strong winds compensated for the hot sun shining down on them.

Y/n felt very relaxed even though she and Logan secretly left the party. The breeze and Elvis’ voice relaxed her as she went into a deep conversation with him.

Thankfully, her glasses covered up her curious eyes as they glanced over him. He had gotten quite a bit of a tan but it made him glow in the Miami sun. He was much taller than when she had seen him last when they were 13. And if anything, he had gotten a lot more attractive.

Her thoughts were interrupted by his teasing voice. “What are you staring at?” He asked with a smile, noticing her glances at a red light.

She immediately froze in the spot and began to stutter. “I- Well. The trees are lovely and-“

“Relax! I’m just messing with you.” Logan said between laughs as he focused back on the road and the green light, “Besides, I think you’re pretty good-looking now too.”

Y/n playfully rolled her eyes as she leaned over to lightly slap his shoulder. She glances to her side, watching the buildings and people turn into a blur as the wind blows her hair behind.

Part of her wanted to stay obedient to her parents. After all, they were parents and provided everything for her. They paid for her college, her car, her clothes, and bags, the least she could do was listen to their rules.

But another part also wanted to be a carefree college student. She wanted to have fun and not regret her days in college. She wanted to be young, dope, and proud like an American.

She turned to look back at Logan before saying, “Let’s go clubbing. I want to have fun.”

The blonde looked at her shocked before his lips curled into a smile. “Oh yeah? What’s gotten into you?”

“Just done with being afraid to break my parents' rule. I want to be young, wild, and free.”

“Well, it’s Miami, so we gotta get you a new dress.”

Y/n furrowed up her eyebrows as she glanced down at her long yellow sundress, brown Hermes sandals, and white cardigan. “What’s wrong with my outfit?” She asked with a frown.

Logan raised his eyebrow. “Y/n, you’ve lived in Miami your whole life. The party scene is different here.” He explained, taking a right turn which fortunately for them, was a shopping center. “Honey, you need to put on that party dress. Like you said, you want to be young, wild, and free.”

“Fine,” Y/n said with a smile as he searched for parking. “But you’re coming with me! I have my dad’s credit card and a mall filled with designer stores. And I’m gonna make sure I find the right outfit.” She grasps her Chanel bag as Logan exits the car and quickly rushes to her side to open the door.

“Well, anything to be young, dope, and proud, right?” He said, holding his arm out. She immediately hooked her arm with his, ignoring the faint blush on both of their faces.

She glanced up at his ice-blue eyes as she let out a content sigh, “Like an American.”

[pleasured-ambrosia]

hi!! could you do a drabble of miguel protecting fem!reader from an ex or something like that? also i love your work !!

((Might get put on Ao3. Have not decided. College is hard. This was also written to be like pre-ASTV, back when Miguel wasn’t so sad and grumpy.))

The sound of your back popping breaks the long silence in Miguel’s office, your arms stretching to the ceiling as you let out a yawn. You had begun the long process of cataloging the many anomalies faced by fellow Spider-People that morning. However, even as the little clock at the bottom of your laptop screen flashes the late hour of the night, your stack of encounters is still tall enough to wobble at the slightest bump against your desk. The reports—if one could even call them that—are a mix of typed and written sheets of paper, as well as the stray napkin blobbed with ketchup or more mysterious substances.

Although it had been your idea to keep a database of anomaly encounters, you couldn’t have predicted that Spider-People had such . . . diverse forms of keeping track of their adventures.

A mug appears in your peripheral, breaking you from your thoughts. Your eyes follow the large hand wrapped around its handle, landing on the vague shape of Miguel O’Hara’s face, lit only by the orange hues of his computers. At one point, he had offered to teach you how to use them, but the process only put off your project’s completion further.

“I’m just taking a break,” you half-defend, half-yawn.

“Nah,” replies Miguel, nudging the mug closer to you. “You’re done for the night. Get some sleep.”

You sipped from the mug, letting the taste of herbal tea drown out your complaints. Your eyes take in Miguel’s form, noting that his usual blue and red suit was replaced with a gray jogging suit better-suited for your dimension than his. “No patrolling tonight?”

“I will after I take you home.”

You raise a brow with a small grin. “I can work a portal just fine, you know.”

“It’s not that.” Miguel’s stance shifts as he shoves his large hands into his pockets. “I just want to make sure you get home safe.”

Your grin widens. “So I can’t take care of myself, is that it?”

Miguel lets out a frustrated noise from the back of his throat. “No, I didn’t mean it like that . . . Por Dios, I just mean—“

“Miguel, relax. I’m messing with you. Walk me home if you want, but I have to stop by the store on the way home. Sound good?”

“As long as it’s quick.” Yet Miguel didn’t seem to mean it, watching as you pack up your laptop and roll up its charging cable. The two of you look almost normal standing in Miguel’s office, with him dressed in sweats and you opting out of your Spider-ensemble for an oversized sweater and a pair of jeans. You sling your laptop bag over your shoulder, imagining what it would be like for Miguel to walk you to a train or a bus rather than busting out a portal. You could probably make a decent living off data entry, but what would Miguel do? Maybe he would be a scientist, and despite working in two different departments, maybe he would become your friend.

“What’re you thinking about?” Miguel asks. He taps a button on his watch (which he would insist is, in fact, way cooler than a watch.) A portal of geometric shapes in red, orange, and yellow opens in the middle of Miguel’s lab, swirling with anticipation.

The vision of Miguel in a white coat and a button-up makes you snort. “Nothing.”

Before Miguel can press further, you grab his forearm and drag him through the portal.

Miguel has more practice at inter-dimensional than you, so it wasn’t much of a surprise that he remained calm as the portal thrusted the two of you through time and space. You, however, are less professional, waving your arms and resisting the urge to scream as your stomach turns into knots.

Landing on his feet, Miguel catches you before you can face plant onto the pavement of Earth-575, otherwise known as home. Your face burns with embarrassment as it hits the center of his chest and your arms wrap around Miguel’s middle. He’s warm, you think. And soft!

It was obvious to everyone in the Spider-Society that Miguel was in great shape. After all, most of the Spider training regiments had come from some of his own workouts. The man could probably rearrange your apartment without breaking a sweat, which was why it came as such a shock that despite Miguel’s muscles, you feel ready to snuggle into him like a pillow.

“You should really work on sticking that landing.”

You push Miguel away to glare up at his smug face. “You’ll get humbled real fast when I knock your ass to the ground.”

At that, Miguel roars with laughter. “I’d like to see you try.”

You huff, spinning around to take a look at the nearest street sign. The nearest convenience store is only two blocks away, making your apartment only an extra two. “Let’s move it, O’Hara. If you’re nice, I’ll buy you a snack.”

Although Miguel could very well buy his own snacks, he follows you anyways, taking extra care to shorten his strides so that he can walk by your side. Most of the residents of your city are tucked in bed by now, although a handful of lights accompany the sporadic streetlights. Besides the occasional rat or partygoer, you and Miguel are the only ones still out.

“Did you think the college kids were going to kidnap me in the middle of the night?” you tease.

“Absolutely,” Miguel deadpans. “They’d lock you in the basement of their frat house, and you’d starve because they haven’t gone grocery shopping since the semester started.”

“Is that what you did in college? Lure people into your frat house of doom?”

“Absolutely not.” Miguel beams with pride, his chest puffing out. “I was on the quiz bowl team.”

Your cackles bounce off the tall buildings lining the streets. Tears spring from the corners of your eyes as you clutch your stomach to keep it from aching. You can picture it now: a scrawny, awkward Miguel with thick glasses frantically consulting his team for the championship-winning answer.

“And when did you become all of this?” you ask, gesturing at Miguel.

He ponders this for a moment. “I didn’t become Spider-Man until I joined Alchemax, but I guess I branched out a little more towards the end of undergrad. Got more into working out, making connections.”

You turn around a corner, finding the entrance to a small convenience store. A small bell rings as you pull open the door, Miguel propping his arm over your head so that you can enter first.

“I’ll just be a second,” you assure him.

“One,” Miguel starts.

“Real mature, O’Hara.”

“Two.”

“Seriously, I’m going to web your mouth shut.”

“Three.”

“I swear to God—“

“Four—“

You make a beeline for the coolers towards the back, tuning out Miguel’s chuckling. By the time you pick out a half-gallon of milk, he’s perusing the long aisles of chips. You never really stopped to ask what kind of brands and flavors Miguel has in his dimension. They banned cigarettes and absurdly large sodas at gas stations, but that was all you heard. You make a mental note to ask, maybe even to buy Miguel something new to try.

You load up on a mishmash of items that hardly pass for a late-night dinner, filling your arms with small plastic bowls of cereal, styrofoam cups of ramen, and an overpriced bag of beef jerky. It’s not until you start weighing the pros and cons of ice cream over chocolate that you notice him.

His hair is longer than when you saw him last, curling around his ears in dark tufts. His guitar case is slung over his shoulder, and judging by the heavy eyeshadow and leather pants, he must’ve had a gig earlier.

You decide to skip grabbing something sweet, spinning around to make a beeline for the cashier when he calls out your name.

Shit.

You turn around slowly, heart hammering in your throat. It takes everything in you to force a smile. “Kasey, hey.”

“Long time no see. Haven’t seen you at The Clover lately.”

“Oh, you know,” you’re thankful that the bundle of snacks in your arms gives you something to hold, “just been busy. Haven’t had time to go out.”

You used to rehearse this moment in the bathroom. You had a whole script where you laid everything out on the table—gave Kasey the verbal beat down he deserved. Yet as you stand across from him, the words won’t come out. Is it my Spidey-sense? you wonder, but this feels different. Your Spidey-sense always led you to action. Whatever this was . . . it was paralyzing.

“I tried texting you,” Kasey continues.

I changed my number, you want to say.

“I haven’t been checking my messages lately.” Your voice cracks at the end, and you can tell Kasey noticed. Kasey always noticed.

“We should grab a drink, then. I actually just finished up tonight if you want to—“

“Are you ready to go?”

A large arm wraps around the small of your back and pulls you close, prompting a small oomf. You tilt your head back to look at Miguel. “Oh, uh, yeah. I’m ready.”

Kasey says your name again and smiles, sending a shiver down your spine. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Miguel smiles down at Kasey, who barely reaches his chest. The expression looks more like a test than one out of sincerity. “I’m Miguel, and you are interrupting our date.”

Before you can reply, Miguel steers you to the cashier. He sets a bag of chips you didn’t even realize he was holding onto the counter and waits for you to do the same. You reach for your wallet, but Miguel’s faster, handing the cashier a twenty and not bothering to wait for the change as he takes the plastic grocery bags. As he escorts you out of the convenience store, you catch one last glimpse of Kasey’s slack-jawed face.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” you moan halfway down the block.

“I have paid for your snacks plenty of times.”

“No, not that. You shut him up just like that!” You snap your fingers for emphasis. “And you said we were on a date. And you put your arm around me!”

“It was the first thing that came to mind!” argues Miguel. “I didn’t need your Spider-sense—“

“Spidey-sense.”

“Lo que sea—to tell that you needed a little help.”

A beat of silence passes.

“Some great hero I am,” you grumble. “Can’t even handle an ex-boyfriend on my own.”

“We all have people that get under our skin. And sometimes no matter how hard we try to get them out, we can’t.”

Miguel’s gaze focuses on the street ahead, his face contemplative.

“You know, a convenience store would be a pretty lame first date.”

Miguel shrugs. “Well, if you’re going to be so ungrateful, I guess I’ll just eat all of this junk food myself.”

You did not tease Miguel for the rest of the night.

[dat-town]

my first and last forever

Characters: Taesan & female reader

Setting & genre: fluff, established relationship, college au

Summary: You celebrate your first anniversary with your fashion designer boyfriend, so you stress over what to wear. Not that it matters, he loves you either way and his present is proof enough.

Warnings: birth names are used, teeny tiny suggestiveness because i couldn’t miss out on the reference for this cover, also cheesiness??

Words: 2.3k

Author’s note: happy birthday to my fellow leo (baby)! this is inspired by the fact that Taesan likes to customize clothes and this video where Leehan and him went to a stained glass workshop with a fan. title from Taesan’s self-composed song So I can say you’re beautiful (eng trans.)

Having an indie fashion brand owner boyfriend means quite a few things for your closet.

Number one, your clothing style starts to resemble his because he looks way too cool, gives great advice on how to match your pieces and he keeps buying you stuff.

Number two, except for a few items that never fail to make Dongmin crunch his nose in silent judgment (come on, it’s a Christmas sweater, it’s supposed to be ugly!), most of your clothes match his. Woonhak always comments on your couple look which in turn makes your boyfriend roll his eyes but you know that secretly he likes it.

Number three, you have pretty much every collection in every color of his brand’s clothes and those become your favorites (right after stealing Dongmin’s clothes).

Number four, choosing a date outfit without his input is killing you. When you don’t know what to wear usually you just ask him or send him options and let him choose but not this time though. You know he wouldn’t care even if you put on the bright yellow sundress he once compared to a children's crayon because he thinks you’re pretty no matter what but you would like to impress him, it’s your anniversary after all.

You weigh your chances as if you were on Who wants to be a millionaire?: you can ask the friend group over chat excluding Dongmin of course or give a call to his yapper best friend in case he knows something.

“No,” Jaehyun says immediately when he takes the phone call that you decided to make.

“Hello to you too. I didn’t even say what I want,” you pout, surprised at his reaction.

“Right but Dongmin has been going on and on about you guys’ anniversary for months I swear, so of course, I know what’s today and no, I’m not telling you what he’s planning,” Jaehyun rambled but you could tell it was clearly a rehearsed speech. He had expected this. Also you couldn’t help but internally coo at the thought of your indifference-looking boyfriend speaking so much about your upcoming celebration.

“Not even a little hint? How should I dress?” You voice out your dilemma and you can clearly hear Jaehyun laugh at your pain on the other side of the line.

“Ask your fashion designer boyfriend.”

“But I want to surprise him! He told me that anything’s fine and that’s not helping. I know him, I know we aren’t going to a super fancy restaurant or for a hike but still, there are so many options!” You whine and Jaehyun huffs.

“Dress comfortably and don’t wear too much jewelry but that’s all I can say,” he says before making a weak excuse that he gotta go, so he hangs up.

You sigh but manage to narrow down the options to two vastly different styles. One is a pale pink layered dress with ribbon strips which is very unlike anything in Dongmin’s wardrobe but he likes you in pink and he has a tiny bit of an obsession with you wearing ribbons or any strings tied. His mischievous ass likes to tug on them to see how much it takes for them to come undone or to get you annoyed. The other outfit is a fake leather, side slit skort with fishnet tights and one of his designs, a black crop top with colorful lettering. All three are also definitely things your boyfriend likes on you, so you’re stuck.

It’s time to ask the audience.

you guys!!! HELP [image_64735.jpg] [image_73628.jpg] which one should i wear? woon baby ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ you don’t laugh it’s a serious dilemma sanghyukie I would go with the first one you thank you, hyuk, you are a godsent princess wonnie ✨ OMG the pink?!?! is that a question? annabelle i vote the black one pls film the brainfreeze he gets when he sees you in that myungjae lol i second that sungho 💪 Please don’t cause him lasting damage 🙏 woon baby i love chaos so … the second donghyun-ah 🐠 👍 you [added a poll to group chat “daily dongmin gossip”]

The black outfit wins by one vote. You thank the guys for their input and start to get ready because you are already a bit too late compared to your estimate.

You dress up, do a smokey eye shadow makeup with cherry red lips, put on boots and pull your hair up in a high ponytail. Looking into the mirror, you know this look doesn’t seem anniversary-like at all with how dark it is but you are convinced Dongmin would like it and would even wear something similar. One last look in the mirror and one whiff of perfume applied, you are out of the door to catch the metro.

Your boyfriend is easy to spot even in the crowd at your destination station. He’s leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone, looking as disinterested as one can be. He wears custom made sneakers, ripped jeans and a My Chemical Romance tee you bought him. You indeed match. He hasn’t noticed you yet, so you decide to sneak up on him. You’re two steps away from him when you see the corner of his mouth twitch as if he’s trying to suppress a smile but his posture doesn’t change. You know that you got caught but because Dongmin tries so hard to let you have your fun, you pretend not to know. You crash into his side, rise on your tiptoes and press a quick kiss on his cheek with a giggle. It leaves a slight pink color behind on the skin, the same as the tips of the boy’s ears. It only makes you smile harder.

“Hi!”

“Hey,” he turns to you then, pushing the sunglasses up onto the crown of his head and somehow he manages to artfully mess up his black locks without looking silly while you are busy scrubbing his cheek clean. The next thing you know is his feline eyes zeroing in on your choice of clothes and he visibly swallows, you can see the bob of his Adam’s apple, which tells you that you made a right choice but he plays cool.

It reminds you of the first time you spoke, when he came up to you between university classes as you were grabbing a drink and asked if you would model for his fashion brand. Or well, he was rather offering you a part time job for a few thousand won. He was very serious about it but you were no model and your art university had a whole website for such scouting, so you were a bit suspicious.

“Why me?” You tilted your head, keeping eye contact because you literally couldn’t look away. Dongmin has always had the most beautiful eyes that sucked you in like a black hole.

“I think you would look good in my clothes,” he said and your eyebrows immediately shot up at the implications behind his words which he soon caught up on too. “I mean, my brand’s clothes,” he corrected himself and suddenly he looked shy. He wore all black and an intimidating bad boy aura and he was getting flustered by you.

“Show me?” You asked him with a sweet smile, stepping closer as he whipped out his phone to show you pictures on his brand’s Instagram (@giant_mountain_clothes). If you hadn’t been taken before by his charm, you were definitely impressed then by how cool his designs actually looked, so you followed each other on social media and agreed on a date for the photo session.

When the day came, Dongmin was all professionalism as he handed you the clothes (jeans with a pattern that looked like graffiti, black and white crop tops with pretty cool line art and typography) and he gave instructions both to you and the photographer about the poses and camera angles. By the end of it, you pretty much thought you had misunderstood his intentions last time. It would have been a bit disappointing if the modeling session turned out to be an awkward experience.

“Not gonna lie, at first I thought it’s just an excuse to ask me out but it’s very cool that you already have a brand like this during uni. And the clothes were super comfy, so I will make sure to stock up before you get famous,” you spoke up playfully after the photographer left and it was just the two of you alone. After changing back to your own clothes, you were allowed to roam around in the studio slash warehouse but you turned away from the sketches on the table when the silence became too loud, facing Dongmin who cleared his throat as soon as your eyes met.

“Well, would you have said yes?” He raised a brow, all nonchalant, but you smiled.

“Try asking,” you challenged him which made him laugh and the rest is history. One year has passed and you’re still going on strong.

Later you got to know that all of his previous models were either his friends or a friend of a friend, so him asking you was actually a big thing. Once you were added to the big friend group chat, Jaehyun couldn’t stop teasing him about it and telling you endearing details about how nervous Dongmin apparently was before that first modeling session of yours. Because of course, there were more following that.

Snapping back to reality, you tilt your head while looking at your boyfriend.

“Like it?” You ask as innocently as you can but your breath hitches when Dongmin slides a hand over your bare side protectively and leans closer to your ear.

“Very. Might ruin your lipstick later,” he promises in a low voice, his warm breath tickling your skin, then he pulls away but keeps his hand on you as he leads you out of the metro station. He walks slower deliberately, so you could keep up with his long legs.

“So… will you tell me now where we’re going?” You can’t help but inquire because curiosity has been bugging you so much. Dongmin asked you to make your day free in advance but he didn’t say anything about his plans and he gave no hints either. Unlike you who accidentally told him about the concert tickets you bought (which he first laughed about because of your overdramatic reaction but his face lit up nevertheless as if you brought him down the stars), he was too good at keeping secrets.

“You will see soon,” he grins at you with his boxy smile like a promise and doesn’t crumble even seeing your pout. He must really want to surprise you because that usually works.

And surprise he does when he takes you all over Insadong, to the second floor of a crammed, colorful building in the middle of an artsy district of the city to a jewelry studio.

“Wait… wait! Is this what I think it is?” You turn to your boyfriend with widened eyes when you see a poster about custom ring workshops beside the entrance. “Han Dongmin, you’re such a romantic!”

“Am not,” The boy denies immediately but he’s not looking into your eyes, apparently too busy searching up the confirmation email on his phone.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” you mutter, smiling from ear to ear as you attach yourself to his side and crane your neck to look around in the studio. Now you understand why Jaehyun suggested wearing less jewelry for today’s activity.

You can’t stop smiling even as you are sitting down at a table after receiving protective gloves and an apron instructed to take measurements of the finger you want to make the ring for. You immediately reach out for Dongmin’s hand. There’s something intimate in the way your fingers slot together and you pay attention to every knuckle and even the needle scars on his fingertips from his hard work.

Dongmin is an artist and good at craft like that, so obviously the ring he makes for you is prettier than the one you make for him but he doesn’t seem to mind it at all. He doesn’t want perfection, he wants you with all your flaws and clumsy metalsmithing skills. It takes a few hours and a bunch of help from your instructors but you walk out of the studio with matching couple rings. Dongmin isn’t big on PDA but you can get away with holding his hand, the new rings still warm to touch grazing. You love holding his hand or just playing with his fingers; you love the casual intimacy of it, that you get to be close to him like this, connected in such a simple yet meaningful way.

At the metro, you nudge Dongmin’s side to make him look at you and there’s only fondness in his eyes which makes you feel spoiled. He always looks at you as if you were special.

“Thank you. I love it so much,” you tell him, wanting to commit this moment to your memories. Right next to the first time he told you he loves you. It was an accident, something he blurted out during play fighting while you acted pseudo sulky and you were so surprised you almost fell off the couch because he was an actions over words type of guy. You couldn’t make him say it again once realization hit both of you but you loved him in spite of it. Because of it. You just love him.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” Dongmin smiles and you melt like every time he calls you that. You close your eyes and lean your head on his shoulder, the ring bearing his initials feeling like a promise on your finger. He’s mine, mine, mine and I’m his, his, his, your heart chants all happy.

you [image_83464.jpg] woon baby i want to be the ringbearer at the wedding!! princess wonnie ✨ aww couple rings so cute! myungjae don’t flaunt your relationship in front of our single asses me when? TT

[beneathsakurashade]

Hallo! Can I req Savannaclaw with a Fem!MC who's a moonflower and has glowing hair and dress depending on emotions? (Those are what the human characters in Hanazuki are called btw!! ^^)

Leona Kingscholar

He was unaware of what exactly a moonflower was until you explained it. Shrugging this new information with one of his regular sighs. “So basically your hair ’n dress glows depending on your mood yeah?”

You nodded excitedly as your hair and dress turn bright yellow. “Excited to tell me, I take it?” He grins. You smile brightly “Of course!"

Sometimes, Leona jokes around to see just how it looks in real life. How you react to different situations, you felt somewhat like a yarn ball that a cat would toss around idly. Watching to see what would happen.

He does wonder about how you are so fine with your emotions being readily displayed. But shrugs it off to your carefree nature.

Leona does find it cute how you're basically a real life mood lamp.

Ruggie Bucchi (the image isnt working smh)

He knew something was different about you, encountering you at times when your hair and dress turned red after seeing an unexpectedly low test grade. Or when you came back from Pomefiore in an entirely new outfit with your hair colored turquoise.

But what he didn’t expect was for you to reveal you being a Moonflower. A race who’s attire and hair color changed depending on their emotions.

Seemed like a real shame to him, after all, being sneaky was one of his specialties. Having your emotions displayed like that has gotta be a pain.

But you didn’t seemed bothered by it, in fact, even though it bothered you at times. It was still enjoyable having your hair and dress change color on a whim.

It's a cool part of you, he decides finally, something that makes him unique like himself.

Jack Howl

He suspected something being special about you, but he didn’t want to assume and say it aloud. So he waited for you to reveal it to him.

You were preparing to hang out with your beloved fellow student Jack. Your dress and hair betraying you as they glowed yellow. A sign of your excitement.

They changed quickly to pink at the thought of meeting him.

You revealed to him that you were a Moonflower during your date. After the snacks you both had brought were eaten up.

Jack looked surprised at this information but was appreciative of you trusting him with it. He somewhat related to you, his wolf-like features tended to betray his own emotions.

That was something new that the two of you could bond about.

(I suppose that it’s obvious that I can’t write for Jack very well lol)

Thank you again dearest mootie for requesting a headcanon set from my shop! I do hope that you enjoy your purchase. Please visit again whenever requests are open and have a most amazing day (ฅ́˘ฅ̀)

[asksythe]

Imprisoned-Fairy-King-of-the-Nameless-Woods Oberon x Magic Victorian Sheltered Maiden Riri! Commed art. Artist: 婕珍

Why does not only my husband but also my fellow shipper in the VN FGO fandom think Smolberon is hugging her boobage??!!! I swear it's a cute, innocent piece! 😥

Well, I guess if they are having fun and enjoying the artwork, that's fine.

In any case, I love Ritsuka in this blue dress. She looks so ladylike, so soft, tender, and sweet. Blue really suits her. Canon Ritsuka has to endure so much that it makes me want to give her the sweetest, most magical things. Haha! I tell you, this is what it's like to be a mama fan!

I want to write a 90s classic Shojo manga Cursed Fairy King Oberon x Victorian Noble Maiden Riri romance story!

Sheltered maiden Riri of the Chaldea noble lineage is born and reared her entire life in her parent's estate, never once allowed to step foot outside. On her 16th birthday, just a year before she debuts before high society, her parents allow her to leave the estate for the first time to go on a picnic in the prairie right outside the Nameless Woods. It is here that the Fairy King of the Nameless Woods sees her and becomes enchanted with the young girl. Deciding to pursue this beautiful mirage, the Fairy King disguises himself in a tiny form and flies through the girl's window, making fast friends with her.

In the classical 90s and early 2000s shojo manga traditions, this plot line marries elements of magical reality with everyday life and is a hybrid romance and a coming-into-oneself tale.

Fairy King Oberon's first impression of the girl in blue sitting in a field of yellow flowers is like seeing a young firebird in a gilded cage. Her impeccable wings have never taken to the skies. He is inexorably drawn to her and wants to see if she will take to the skies or fall into the mud and drown.

I also want to see how Ritsuka will develop in this kind of world and upbringing. Like classical shojo manga heroines, she will go through a lot of personal growth, stepping out of the pretty cage that defines her early life, weathering adversaries, maturing brilliantly and taking flight. That sort of incredibly empowering and magical 90s plotline!

In other words, it's a story of demure Victorian Ritsuka finding the strength of Canon Ritsuka and growing closer to her in another world.

@erimies asked: what about Oberon's role in the story? Is he going to be Tuxedo Mask?

Hahahahahahaha!!! No... I'm not about to waste such a wonderfully complex character in such simple, limited narrative roles.

I'm thinking, Oberon is probably the final big bad that Victorian Maiden Riri has to overcome. The Fairy King imprisoned in the Nameless Woods, whose terrible secret lies beneath a dreamlike fantasy. So, instead of Tuxedo Mask, he would be a forbidden love interest archetype, serving as the catalyst of the heroine's growth, the friend and confidante by her side, the betrayer that breaks her heart, and the final villain that she must overcome. Their love story would be a hybrid transitioning from sweet magic to heartbreak to falling love with the villain and then overcoming the villain.

Yes, very 90s Shojo!!! Also very Jareth and Sarah from Labyrinth! Much heart! Much ham! Magic, beautiful gowns, dances in the woods and in glittering ballrooms, heroine's journey, so on and so forth!!

Haaa... I really wish I knew Kage Bunshin no Jutsu, so I can write all these story ideas I have.

[lefaystrent]

Me, Myself, and These Guys Who Kinda Look Like Me Ch. 1

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: Thomas/Sides

Summary: It starts with dreams. Then Thomas starts seeing the dream people in the waking world.

Thomas doesn't know how to bring it up to anybody or if he even should at this point.

AKA, Thomas has to acknowledge the six colorful characters in the room, much to their long-awaited delight.

AO3 Link: click here

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

It starts with dreams.

The first one, he stands in the middle of his living room. Everything is exactly where he left it, contrary to many of his previous dreams where reality constantly shifts. It's different this time, because it's so real, like he actually stood there with his socked feet on the carpet, lights and lamps on and the windows dark outside. He breathes, and he feels his lungs expand, and he speaks. He talks. There are people standing around him in a semi-circle. One by the stairs, one on the bottom step, a couple in front of the TV, and the others in front of the blinds. And they have distinctive colors and cadences, so vivid in their mannerisms. They argue, they debate, they laugh, they listen.

It starts with that first one, a dream yes, but for some inexplicable reason Thomas finds himself gasping awake in a cold sweat. He throws off his covers and sweeps around the room, unable to get past the nagging sensation that he is not alone.

More dreams persist, to lesser degrees. There is nothing to do about them but experience them. He dreams of horseback riding with a prince, riding fast through wind-swept lands. He lays under a starry night and points out constellations with someone who knows more than he ever could. He bakes cookies and hums 'Sweet Caroline' with another voice keeping harmony. There is wine and he shares a drink with a cloaked, dapper fellow. He falls into the ocean and meets what lurkes beneath, hears cackles beneath the waves. And he lets hands nestle protectively over his ears and tell him to breathe in and breathe out.

For weeks, the images of these- people? They haunt him in his sleep like wisps of smoke. So real in the moment, but fogged over when his eyes open. He tries to recall the things said, their exact expressions, who they remind him of. There has to be a reason they plague his nights. A connection he missed. Why it seems to matter, he doesn't know, only that it did. Incredibly so. Thomas could write off the dreams. If it was just some really specific, lucid dreams he kept having, fine, he can deal. Maybe refer to a dream dictionary, see what might be bugging him in real life.

Then he starts to see the dream people in the waking world.

He's filling his thermos in the kitchen and out of the corner of his eye, he catches a black polo shirt and blue tie. When he looks at the sink, there's no one standing by it. He turns around, but Thomas is definitely alone in his house. He shakes it off. Rationalizes it. Moves on.

He stands in the store, contemplating the pros and cons of protein bars versus candy bars. A yellow hand flashes, and he swears he glimpses a hatted figure., but as Thomas spins around in the aisle, there's just a mom and her kid. No one dressed that formal or intriguing.

Thomas gets together with his friends. They're working on a new video, a music mash-up because those have done well in the past. For a second, he blinks and there's a figure dressed in white and red standing next to a hooded figure, and it's like they're a part of his friend group, just goofing off. But when Thomas blinks again, there's no one standing behind Quil, and Terrance is waving his hand in front of Thomas's face to get his attention.

He goes to bed, dozes and peeks the eyes that stare at him from the open closet door. There's a shine of sequins and jazz hands. Before his heart can start, there's a soothing weight at his side. It reminds Thomas of when he had nightmares as a kid, how his dad would sit at his bedside and tell him goofy stories with the most serious voice. The prescence remains even as he drifts to sleep. It follows him into his dreams.

For weeks, it goes on, and Thomas doesn't know how to bring it up to anybody or if he even should at this point. How does one say, "I think my imagination has dreamed up whacky characters who are now haunting me." They'd tell him he's working too hard, that he should get more sleep, or that he's always been so creative. Worse, they'll think it's more serious. It can't be that serious. It can't be actual hallucinations, right? He's not really interacting with them, and though it feels real for those half-a-seconds, it's not concrete. It's out of focus, and somehow not alarming. Should he be alarmed?

It's a whole mishmash of indecisiveness. It's the American way, to say, "Well I'm not dying, so I don't need to go to the hospital yet." He's just one Floridian man with a lot on his plate, and yeah, maybe he's working too hard, maybe his head had been hurting more lately from all the whiplash of trying to spot the men from his dreams. Maybe he's just going through a weird phase. If he waits long enough, surely...

He works himself to exhaustion. And his head really has been hurting more than usual. It pounds through the back of his head and erupts behind his eyeballs. He's starting to toss and turn more in bed until he gives up altogether. One day, he goes out to meet Joan and Talyn. They take one look at him and send him back home. The bags under his eyes have bags, and they claim they can hang out just fine with him resting at his apartment. And the crowd of colors follow, the ghosts hanging close but always in the peripheral. 

He wants to tear his hair out in frustration at himself. He kind of does think he's going insane.

Then to no one's surprise, he gets sick. Really sick.

The headaches are insufferable. He's running a fever. He doesn't know how high. He lost his themometer at some point and told himself that he would eventually get around to buying another one. He can't leave the house to get another one. Hell, he can barely leave the bed. And he'd be damned if he calls anyone for help. The most he allows is a text to his mom letting her know that he needs to cancel coming over for lunch, that he's staying home to rest. She sends back a series of well wishes and love, and Thomas thinks of how lucky he is to be her son and thinks in spite of himself that she was here to take care of him.

He's never been that good at taking care of himself, and this latest illness brings it into perspective. He's got pills somewhere, Ibuprofen that could bring the fever down and ease the overwhelming ache, but it's like admitting defeat. They haven't been doing anything for his head lately anyway. There's definitely voices edging around him, reminding him of what he should do, how foolish he's being. How if he could only listen...

Thomas rebels and curls up into a shivering ball under his covers.

He doesn't keep track of time. The curtains hanging over his bedroom window are too thick to let much light in anyway. There's darkness, and there's pain. He comes out of another dream, half-awake and bleary-eyed. The pain in his head comes to a blinding, boiling point. It's far too much and Thomas full-out whimpers. Weakly, his body contorts to try to find some relief that he knows is not there.

"Medicine," he hears a voice. He doesn't know if it's one of them or himself begging. The fever has him in a death-grip and he questions if he ever truly woke up. "We've got to get him to take some medicine."

"I'm working on it!"

"I know this situation is worrying, but please try to remain calm. Let me try-"

Thomas gasps as a knife twists inside his skull. He sees little stars and fireworks, and it spins him so off-kilter he thinks he's about to faint or throw up. Belatedly, he realizes that he's crying. A dull panic envelopes him. He regrets not calling for help sooner. He thinks he's dying now. He wants his mom desperately.

"I don't like this."

"None of us like this!"

"He looks pale, like a corpse. Do you think he's dying?"

"Not at all. He's perfectly healthy, don't you see?"

"You're okay Thomas, we're here. I just wish-"

"Logan's got it! He managed to grab it, he's bringing it-"

"Okay, but how do we get him to take the medicine anyway? In case you forgot, we can't touch people!"

"Please don't yell, I'm trying to concentrate."

"Sorry."

It doesn't make sense, and Thomas isn't entirely convinced the chatter is outside of his head. It's so hot and so cold, and Thomas wishes he knew where he left his phone or how to make his muscles co-operate, or ya know just how to stop his head from exploding.

There's shuffling and the whisper of cloth moving. His bed dips? He swears someone is sitting on his bed right beside him. He hears the subtle swishing of a pill bottle, the cap opening. There's more words being said, but he can't concentrate past the ringing pitch in his ears.

He opens his eyes, not realizing he had closed them again. There's something being pressed to his mouth, a pale wrist hanging above his face.

He doesn't think, just grabs the wrist.

Dimly, he's aware that the chatter muffles. Mostly though, his clammy hand has the wrist in a frantic clutch. It's cold, and he kinda wishes he could pull it to his forehead, a cooling balm.

He whines again in misery and a voice clears their throat. Hands touch at his shoulders. First one, hesitant, then more. He's being sat up, and it does nothing but wrench his equalibrium into a joyride. Moaning, he sits in a gasping slump and waits for whatever is to come.

There's a couple of pills forcing their way into his mouth. He doesn't fight it, a part of him realizing someone is trying to help him. They slide past his tongue, and then a water bottle presses to his lips. They tilt his head back to allow him to pull slow sips.

It's not magic. The pain doesn't disappear, and the fever doesn't sporadically abate. He's still a mess, but there are hands lending him strength. They ease him back down on the bed. They right his T-shirt where it's bunched up and shift the covers. They push back his hair, and Thomas wants to weep when a wet cloth settles over his forehead.

There are whispers, soft and sweet and awed.

Drained, he falls unconscious.

***

When he wakes next, the headache is still there. However, it's a low thrum in a way that Thomas hasn't experienced in days. That in and of itself is no small miracle in his eyes.

His fever must have abadated at some point in his rest as well. He finds the covers have been kicked off of him, the vent from the AC blowing against sweat-damp skin. He feels gross and tender, and he can't remember the last time he ate anything substatial or had a proper shower. All in all, he might as well have been a piece of wet laundry that had been beat over a railing and left out to dry.

Can insides be bruised just by sickness alone? he thinks as he blinks lazily. There's the ceiling, white above him. In his room, there's a hush, and he knows even before he sits up that there's a crowd.

His arms shake as he pushes himself up. He's too tired to do anything but stare at nothing in particular. There are six people around in his room. It's not the biggest bedroom, so they're rather sandwiched in where they can.

He recognizes them of course. Thomas first sees the bowler hat. The guy who wears it sits in his only chair in the corner, legs crossed. A man decked out in sparkly green sits on the floor beside him, hair fluffed with a shock of white in the bangs. Standing at the foot of the bed, arms mid-pinwheel, is the prince. He's staring down at Thomas like- well, Thomas isn't really looking at his face, so he's not really sure, but it's like he's cut himself off mid-sentence once Thomas sat up.

There's another figure standing to Thomas's immediate right. It's the black polo shirt and blue tie. Glasses. The man's wearing glasses. Somehow, Thomas never noticed and he doesn't understand why his brain is latching onto this fact as if it's ground-breaking information.

Beside him on the bed sitting criss-cross applesauce is another guy with glasses. It's the one he dreamt of baking cookies with. He's hovering to his left, a hand raised in the air towards him but not going any farther.

"Hey there, Thomathy. Feeling any better?" He's got a polo shirt on too, but light blue. It looks like very soft fabric. The cardigan tied around his neck even softer.

Thomas doesn't react. Doesn't know how he's supposed to react. He still doesn't look directly at any of them, and he's not all the way convinced this isn't another dream.

"Hey Colon Sanders!" the green guy hollers. "Hey! HEY!"

"You know those people who think they can get through language barriers simply by being louder?" Bowler Hat says. "That totally works is what I'm saying, do keep trying."

The green guy does nothing more than blows a raspberry. "Poop. And shit. Poop shit."

"I... suppose it was a little much to hope," the prince gives a little chuckle, but it's sad.

"Is he still sick?" a gruff voice asks below Thomas and to the right. Out of view and almost missed. Thomas focuses on the purple hoodie. He's crouched beside the bed, arms barely taking up any room on the mattress by Thomas's hip. His fists are clenching. "Maybe he's gonna hurl. Does he look like he's going to hurl?"

"He is undoubtably still sick," Blue-Tie announces. "It will take time for him to recover, and we managed... much more than we thought possible last night. There is victory in small successes."

"Has anyone tried touching him again though?" the prince asks hopefully.

In answer, Thomas twitches his hand until it lands on Purple Hoodie's fist. There is definitely a hand there under Thomas's own. The cuff of the sleeve slides against the side of his hand. It's real too. Purple Hoodie gives a barely perceptible choking noise. He's gazing up at Thomas like he's sprouted wings and laid eggs. Thomas doesn't exactly meet the stricken stare, but it's close.

Around them, the others don't notice at first. They've started arguing, and wow is it weird to be able to hear all the words finally. He hears some of their names, and he hears their voices with crystal clarity. And all the while, the fist under his hand is beyond stiff and unmoving.

Cardigan, from Thomas's left, gasps. His hands fly up to his cheeks.

"Patton Pending?" Prince asks in response.

"Thomas is holding hands with Virgil, look!"

And everyone does.

Six pairs of eyes hone in on Thomas holding hands with a guy, and it's the least gay thing ever.

"I don't think I'm dreaming," Thomas declares. He picks up Virgil's hand for good measure, and the dude lets him. He's got this deer-in-the-headlights expression going on, and the eyeshadow he wears is impressive, but Thomas is more concerned with testing the weight of the hand. It feels like a hand and moves like a hand. Therefore, it must be a hand.

Thomas drops the hand. "Yeah, I don't think I'm dreaming." He grabs the water bottle left on his bedside table and calmly drinks some. He can't bear the tacky feeling in his mouth. He needs to brush his teeth at some point.

"Holy shit," Green Guy surmises. Bowler Hat has uncrossed his legs and sat forward with intent.

"Thomas?!" Prince and Cardigan and Blue Tie all say in varying stages of alarm.

"That's my name," Thomas agrees. He's so tired. He sits the bottle in his lap in favor of rubbing at his face. He thinks he remembers crying at some point. God, what a mess he must look like.

"You can see us?! Like you can actually see us?!" Prince exclaims. He staggers one knee onto the foot of the bed in his haste. His eyes are so bright they make Thomas's squint. "Thomas, please say you can see us. Don't let this be a dream."

"I've seen you guys in my dreams," Thomas murmurs. He doesn't know how else to answer. If he's matter of fact, maybe things will be easier to process.

To that, Prince is at a loss. An excited loss, but still a loss. He wears a half-cocked grin of question, glancing to Blue Tie and Cardigan and Virgil. And Bowler Hat is now standing beside him.

"Patton, do us all a favor and poke him," Bowler Hat commands.

Patton pokes Thomas's shoulder. It's gentle enough and sways Thomas minutely. With rapt attention, Patton pokes him again.

"I poked him," Patton says with wide eyes.

"You poked me," Thomas confirms.

And that's when the chaos erupts. They're all talking at once, some of them trying to get his attention again. Virgil's got a vice of a grip on the bedsheets. Prince tries crawling onto the bed, only held back by Bowler Hat. Green Guy grins at him in the most bewildered fashion. Blue Tie is gesturing for everyone not to talk over each other, and Patton keeps poking Thomas's shoulder while saying, "Poke, poke, poke."

It's a lot to take in for a guy who thought he was dying a few hours ago. With that same calm in place, Thomas drags his legs over the side of the bed onto the floor. Virgil scrambles back to give him room. Thomas wonders if he should apologize, and then reminds himself that this is his room and that dream people shouldn't exist.

"Thomas?" someone calls, he doesn't know who.

"I'm going to go get a shower," Thomas announces.

No one stops him. They get quiet again, and he can feel them watching him. His body is sore and his head won't shut up, but he manages well enough. Blue Tie steps out of his way so he can grab some clothes from his dresser. If anyone tries to say anything more to him, he ignores it completely. He's too busy barricading himself in the bathroom.

[mara-xx217]

Ending H (Fear & Hunger) Ch. 6- Promises, Promises

"The texts are badly damaged and stained with a mystery substance... Only some of it remains legible-"

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Rape/Noncon, Rumpelstiltskin-esque Deal, Somnophilia, Breeding, Forced Pregnancy, Kidnapping

A TALE OF THE POCKETCAT

OR

WHY ONE SHOULD NEVER STRIKE DEALS WITH THE GREEN HUE

CHAPTER ONE

The dark, dank walls of the dungeon of Fear & Hunger threatened to close in around you. There was no escaping the depravity that threatened to consume you with every step that you took. There was no way out for you, so you despaired and you wept. Your suffering was so sweet to all the denizens of the dark… It brought unwanted and uncanny attention to your moment of weakness.

A pair of luminous yellow eyes appeared in the bleak dark before you. A Cheshire grin split the maw of the darkness, a row of sharp, neat teeth shone against an unknown source. 

“Ahhh… what do we have here?~” A man dressed in a fine suit- certainly inappropriate for a place such as this!- knelt before you, his curious yellow eyes seeming to shine in spite of the near total darkness of the dungeon. He seemed tall- too tall- yet his affable demeanor had your guard lowering. 

“Are you lost, new friend?” You found yourself nodding. This dark was too much for any one person to handle at all, let alone by their lonesome… 

“I see, I see…” He mused to him as he nodded. His eyes never seemed to blink or waver from you. It was unsettling. 

“It is no fun to be lost in any place and certainly no fun in a place such as this!” You nodded once more, the tears in your eyes threatening to fall down your face. A gloved hand gently catches one of the tears as it overflowed from one of your eyes. 

“No tears, dear friend…” His curled forefinger stroked your cheek as he inspected his tear stained glove. “Isn’t it unbecoming of an adventurer like you?” 

The question had you pausing. Perhaps it was… but it wasn’t an accusatory question. Merely an exploratory one. You struggled to find your voice, as fear still had a hold on your throat and your heart. 

“I… Can you help me…? I- I wish to be free of this place a-and I-“ The masked gentleman hummed softly to himself. He placed his hand in one of his pockets. 

“Oh? You would ask help of a stranger you scarely know? We haven’t even exchanged names yet!” He feigned hurt and surprise, something that wasn’t lost on you. You hang your head in shame. 

“Chin up, old fellow! This does have an easy remedy…” He chuckled to himself. You nodded eagerly. 

“My name is Pocketcat! And yours…?” You told him your true name. You see his eyes light up in recognition. 

“Ahh yes yes! Indeed, it could be my old imagination, but have we met before? Perhaps in another lifetime?” He seemed far too eager for your liking but you simply nodded in agreement. 

“Oh what a joyous occasion!” He clasped his hands together in glee. His pupils were pinpricks and his mouth seemed wider than it did before. Or maybe it’s just your imagination. 

“This is a special occasion indeed…” Pocketcat mused to himself. He seemed to be looking you up and down, his arm shifting ever so slightly in place. It made you uncomfortable. 

“For a friend, I certainly would do anything…” You found his face.

“…however even a friend would have to compensate me fairly.” Your heart sank in your chest. You believe to have nothing of worth- likely nothing of worth to him! What shall you do?!

“Oh…? What’s this? Perhaps you have nothing to give… Is that right?” Hesitantly you nodded. You have nothing on you to give him- nothing that he would want. Or so you believe. Pocketcat rests his chin on his other hand and hums thoughtfully. 

“Well… this is unfortunate indeed!” He almost seems sad that you had nothing to give him. Yet even as he appears to think to himself on this set of circumstances, his eyes cut right through you and a decision seems to have been made without your consent. 

“I, for one, am not the kind of man that forgets what is owed…” Tears well in your eyes once more. 

“…though-

-I could make an exception for an exceptional friend.” The words chilled you, or perhaps it was the way his moonish eyes have never left your person in the slightest. You couldn’t help but to feel hope well in your bosom. 

“Would you?! Oh- Please! Please, sir Pocketcat!” You clasped your hands together, your lower lip trembling as you spoke. “Please free me from this terrible place!” You begged and you pleaded, an act that had the old cat taking an even greater shine to you than he already did. His mind was already made up, as was yours. 

“Chin up, old friend! There is no need for that!” He ushered you to stand and you did so upon his instance. 

“I will help you leave this dreadful place.” Again your eyes shine with hope as all the possibilities of your life flash before you. 

“...as long as you promise me one thing!” 

“Yes, yes! Anything! Anything to flee this place!” He laughs a little, catty and something that has your skin crawling. 

“Oh? But I haven’t even shared my proposal!” You didn’t care but he elaborated all the same.

“I only ask of you a simpl-

THE TEXT IS TOO BADLY DAMAGED TO READ HERE. 

THE INK APPEARS TO BE STAINED WITH SOME SORT OF FLUID…

ONLY A SNIPPET OF THE NEXT CHAPTER REMAIN. 

-always needs to be capitalized on in the end. It was a matter of time and the time had long since come and passed for the debt owed to be paid-

THE TEXT IS TOO BADLY DAMAGED TO READ HERE. 

THE INK APPEARS TO BE STAINED WITH SOME SORT OF FLUID…

ONLY A SNIPPET OF THE NEXT CHAPTER REMAIN.

-form was just as he remembered it. He turned you on your stomach with ease and climbed over you. A thrill ran down his spine. Yes, he has waited far too long for this, he thinks…

You would give him the child he sought, one way or another…

Pocketcat pulled down the sheets and raised your nightshirt. You were what he’s been waiting for all these years… As an old friend, you would understand that this must be done, wouldn’t you? 

After all… You knew the toll and you accepted it wholeheartedly…

Pocketcat crawled onto your bed and hummed softly to himself. He doesn’t wish to cause you any pain or anguish… After all, he does care so deeply for you, just as you certainly do. He will make this quick, for your sake, he promises silently. 

 One

Two

Three-

THE TEXT IS TOO BADLY DAMAGED TO READ HERE.

THE INK APPEARS TO BE STAINED WITH SOME SORT OF FLUID…

It was uncouth of him to salivate so but how could he possibly stop? It should have been expected that you would be so utterly perfect underneath him… Perhaps the two of you truly were star crossed lovers once upon a time, in another lifetime. It certainly feels like the truth, with him a top you, snug and warm in your pleasant wetness that seemed to grow with each bump of his hips…

“Yes…! Oh yes, my dear… How I love you so…!” Pocketcat softly cried into your hair. Stiff barbs coaxed a shudder out of you, one that the tall gentleman mimicked as a rush overtook him. 

It wasn’t enough. 

More-

THE TEXT IS TOO BADLY DAMAGED TO READ HERE.

THE INK APPEARS TO BE STAINED WITH SOME SORT OF FLUID…

“-se stop…”

Your cries went on deaf ears. You reached out for help but it was all in vain. Pocketcat interlaced his fingers with your own. 

“Don’t cry friend! It will be all over soon…!~” An empty promise that fell on deaf ears. It didn’t dry your tears and it didn’t cease the pain inflicted onto you, nor did it shelter you from the inevitable pleasure that accompanied your torment.

Deeper and deeper still, you would be filled until swollen. One way or another, you would fulfill the bargain that was struck all those years ago.

Burrs left you raw and stimulated. You were plugged up and filled to bust. He wouldn’t pull away until it had taken hold. Pocketcat purred as he stroked your sweat and tear stained hair. 

“So good… So very good… You’ll give me exactly what I seek…” 

It would time time and time still, but the Pocketcat would receive the gift that was promised to him in the dank dark of Fear & Hunger. Waiting mattered not to him. He was a patient old cat and some more waiting would do him no harm. At least now he wouldn’t wait all alone anymore…

You will be at his side, heavy with child- his child. When he will be born, you will still be at his side, perpetually swollen with his seed and giving him what was owed over and over again, no matter how much you scream or how often you try to-

THE TEXT IS TOO BADLY DAMAGED TO READ ANY FURTHER.

THE INK APPEARS TO BE STAINED WITH SOME SORT OF FLUID…

Ending H- Promises, Promises

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @slutwithadegree, @dead-bxxxtch-walking, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine

[ragingbookdragon]

hello bubuuu, how are u? i hope that ur fine :) can I request something? could u write strangers to lovers with ghost x fem reader? ignore this if ur uncomfy :) xx

the only time i've ever been made uncomfortable by an ask was when an anon asked me if i would write a fic where the kink was breeding and i was...floored, and not in the good way

but here you go <3

**********************************************************************

The first time he shows up in her bar it’s an hour to closing, there’s barely a handful of people in the bar at this point, most of her regulars already gone home for the night. He’s an odd one to peg already, dressed in all black, hood raised, and a black mask covering his forehead and lower face; only his eyes are exposed, but even then, they’re covered in what looks like soot. He sits on the very last stool furthest away from the doors and waits.

“What can I get you, babe?” she asks, propping an elbow on the bar.

“Bourbon, neat,” he replies, a rumble of a voice like thunder on the distant Birmingham skies.

She hums as she gets a glass. “Any specific kind?”

“Kentucky.”

“Ah, a good ole boy, aren’t you?” she teases and grabs a bottle of amber liquid; pours more than a generous amount for him, she’s not about to question his day, it already looks like a rough one. She places it in front of him about the time he’s pulling out a tenner. “On the house,” she smiles and his hand freezes before he puts it away.

“Thanks,” he mutters lowly, and she can tell he wants to be left alone while he drinks.

She throws the towel over her shoulder and givers him another smile. “Let me know if you need anything else, babe.”

When she comes back a few minutes later, he’s gone and she’s rather surprised that she hadn’t even noticed the man leave, as big as he was, she should’ve at least seen him, but not even Barry, her bouncer, saw him. She reaches for the glass and chuckles at the tenner tucked underneath it.

***

“You’re not from Birmingham, are you?” he asks, one evening, and she’s shocked to hear him even talk to her.

“Me?” she repeats, as if he’s speaking to anyone else. “No, I’m not from here.”

“The bar’s American.”

“It is. Based on World War Two and other American wars. A family friend who took me in as a kid was a Vietnam vet. I dedicated the bar to him and other Americans who fought in wars then and now.” She cleans a glass. “You military?”

“Army.”

“From the way you carry yourself, I say special forces. SAS, isn’t it?”

“Mhm.”

She takes a long look at him, the mask riding just above his upper lip. “You’re an odd sort of fellow, you know that, right?”

“I’ve been told.”

“So, what’s the deal with the mask? Is it a comfort thing? Security? Both?”

He looks back at her, slate gray eyes staring right through her; it makes shivers ripple up and down her spine. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“I am bartender,” she chirps and sets the glass down. “I like to know my regulars.”

“I’ve only been here twice.”

“And if you didn’t feel comfortable, you wouldn’t’ve come back, babe,” she says knowingly, looking at him. “Have a name?”

“Ghost.”

“Hmm…how fitting.” She sets another bourbon down and takes the empty glass he has. “Let me know if you need anything.”

***

It’s a regular occurrence over the next few months to see Ghost in her bar an hour before closing. She recognizes he likes the silence and peace that last call brings. She’s gotten into the habit of setting his drink up exactly a minute before he walks in. Which is always ten on the dot.

This time, when he sits, he pushes the glass forward and she’s confused. “Want a fresh one?”

“What do you like?” he asks, looking at her.

“Oddly enough, I’m not a good ole girl.”

He smiles at that, and she knows by the way his gray eyes crinkle.

“Why don’t I make you something I’d like and see how you like it?”

“Surprise me then, love.”

It only takes a few minutes of vigorous shaking and switching liquors and Ghost has a tall, yellow fruity drink in front of him, complete with whipped cream and pineapple on top.

“Voilà.”

He blinks. “What…is that?”

“Hawaiian Rum Punch. Spiced and dark rum, pineapple liquor, passionfruit and pineapple juice. Little bit of sun in the gloomy English weather.”

Ghost snorts as he picks it up and takes the straw in his fingers, sipping it. “Funny.”

She waits, a slow-spreading grin on her face as she watches for his reaction. “Well?”

“It’s good. A little too sweet for me,” he replies honestly, and puts it down. “You’re good though.”

She reaches over with the towel and nicks the corner of his mouth where the whipped cream got him. “I know I am.” As she walks off to attend to another customer, she calls, “Drink your bourbon, good ole boy!”

***

It’s the rare night that the bar is closed that she’s out on her own, visiting an older family friend at the base on the other side of the city. She’s only been once, but this time, he’d insisted on her coming. Plus, she had a bottle of old whiskey on hand, so she knew he wanted that too. He escorts her inside, answering her few questions she asks with more grunts than answers.

“How’ve the missions been going?”

“Good. Just finished a hefty one out in Syria.”

“Interesting. Have to tell me about it tonight.”

“I will. Soap will want to brag.”

“Soap?”

“New team member. Made the mission a success with his demolitions.”

She smiles as he wraps his arm around her outside the door. “It’s good to see you, Price. It’s been a while since you came to the bar.”

“I’ve been coming, you just haven’t seen me there.”

Her brows pull in confusion but he opens the door and there’s a group of men surrounding a card table; all of them look up, but one looks shocked.

“Ghost?” she asks and turns to Price. “Did you send Ghost to scope out my bar?”

“I had to keep an eye one you somehow,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know your Uncle Tommy would’ve wanted me to.” He nudges her. “Besides, Simon would’ve protected you if anything bad happened.”

“I can protect myself,” she retorts, sticking her nose in the air. “I only went through six months of rigorous training with you and Uncle Tommy.”

She walks over and around Ghost with the bottle, grabbing a glass from the table to set beside him; cracking the bottle, she pours him a round before leaning on his shoulders and asking, “So, Simon, is it?”

Simon takes the cigarette from between his lips, grinds it out before he looks up at her and replies, “I thought it was ‘babe’?”

“I call everyone babe.” She smiles at him. “If you want to be special, you’ve gotta take me out.”

“I can do that.”

[naayewolf]

“There There, Kitty” Kokushibo x Muzan Daughter!Reader [Smut]

Summary:

You are Muzan’s Demon Daughter, and he has ordered the top 3 uppermoons To be your personal servants. You decide to turn them into your personal lap dogs. 

*Might make this a whole book with different context*

*Uppermoon/Muzan Jackson’s impressions of y/n

Akaza: Wants to be stronger than her, they spar all the time even though y/n always wins.

Douma: Finds her VERY entertaining. Basically her girlfriend [In the sister sense]

Kokushibo: Follows her EVERY command~

Muzan: Loves her, gives her secondhand control over the top 3 uppermoons as a gift.

TW: 

Dubcon, Dominant reader, size difference, Loss of virginity, abuse of power,  rough riding,, bondage [tentacles daki style],  blowjobs, milking, lipstick play [It’ll make sense] Sado/masochism, bedpress, master/servant[pet] dynamics, degradation

You sit with a makeup brush in your hands, your eyes colorful shades of yellow and pink, your lips are blood red. Your hands work on Douma’s face, spreading blue powder across his cheeks. “Blue really suits your skin tone Douma!” You smile, putting glue on a jewel to place it under his eye. 

He squeals with joy in a high pitch, glad for the compliment. “You're the makeup artist, y/n!” He uses his blood art to make an ice mirror to see himself. He squeals louder than before and hugs the air out of you. “It’s perfect! I wasn’t sure at first, but you truly work magic y/n!” 

You Give him a closed eye smile, opening them again when you catch the aura of your other pets Akaza and ... Kokushibo. 

They both enter the room, Akaza throwing the door open unknowing of your presence. “DOUMA WHERE IS MY- What the actual f u c k ..” His eyes go wide at Douma,  him uncaring of you being here. Kokushibo on the other hand bows to the ground as if you were your Dad.

“Forgive us Master, we were unaware you were- tending to our fellow moon, forgive us for intruding.” He shuts his middle and bottom pair of eyes, looking at you through the top pair. You let out a giggle pulling his head to a sitting position with a tendril from your back. 

“It’s quite fine. Akaza, please refrain from breaking Douma’s door from now on.” he doesn’t bow, only letting out a very unapologetic grumble. Koku gives him a quick glare and he apologizes a bit more believable. You stand motioning for them to move from the door.

“Kokushibo. If you’ll follow me, I have something I need you for.” He lets out an immediate ‘Yes, Master’ before standing to follow you out. The second you two step out Akaza punches through Douma’s head. 

“Akaza dono .. you ruined my makeup ..” He whines while sitting up. The yukata he wears barely covers his crotch, as it’s usually worn for a married couple’s first night together. [Honeymoon lingerie] He pouts bending forward, the cloth covering his groin falling forward almost exposingly “Don’t you think I’m pretty in this?”

Akaza’s pale face turns red from embarrassment. In truth, he’s jealous Douma had this much time with you instead of him. He would’ve spent it training his strength instead of playing dress up though.  Douma goes to lift the cloth covering him. He kicks Douma in the groin.“You Fucking Would!” 

*With Y/n and Kokushibo*

*Koku POV* 

Kokushibo is positively TERRIFIED. He remains stoic as always on the outside, but on the inside he’s screaming with a million questions. What did I do? Where is she taking me? Is she mad? Is she gonna kill me? Is she gonna get THAT MAN to kill me? 

You walk on, arms crossed in front of you, him behind you as a symbol of your superiority towards him. He realizes that you’re nearing your quarters. That brings even more questions.  

*Y/n Pov* 

You’ve liked this pet for a while, and seeing him so obedient at the moment he realized you were there made you feel special. You realize that he’s the type to follow orders without a second thought. The control you had over him made you feel- a certain way. You decided to see just how far he’d go to meet your demands.  

You lead him towards your room, bouncing at the excitement of the game you're about to play. When you get to your door you move aside ushering him in. Kokushibo turns to you again with all six eyes on you in confusion and concern. 

“Master-” He begins, shutting up when your small figure presses against his tall one. “What are you-” A black tendril shoots out your back going through his wrists pinning him to the wall and dripping blood onto the floor mat. 

You shush him, pushing your finger to his lips. “It’s okay, just .. go with it.” He knows he could easily overpower you, or at least push you off, but he’s afraid it’ll anger That Man. With swift roughness you have him against your futon straddling his body. His hands twitch around from the pain. He doesn’t know what else to do but beg, afterall he doesn’t even know what he did. “P-Please Master, stop.”

 You’re dumbfounded for a second before letting out a laugh. “Ah! The little demon is begging .. how cute.” You let out a breathy moan before rolling your hips into him.  He moans lightly which causes you to grin. You move down to line your face up with his crotch. 

He yelps when you kiss him through the cloth, effectively smearing your lipstick. You let out a chuckle lifting up to look him in his eyes. “It’s ok, there there, kitty. Just stay very still.~” You undo his obi making his kimono come loose. You swiftly pull it off of his shoulders. He whines with his hands being unable to cover himself, not that his hands would do any good to cover it. 

You gasp at the size of it. Koku must be half horse or something- It’s about 12 inches with considerable length. You move down, placing a kiss at the base. He stiffens but stays still, not wanting to anger you. If this was you when you were giving mercy, he’d hate to see you withdraw it. 

You trail up and down his length leaving marks of bright red all over his pale cock. You nip at his base before looking up to admire your work. His cock was dripping with precum and he was a mewling mess. You smirk moving down and putting his legs over your shoulders making him gasp. “Looks like l made a mess~” You move in leaving another trace of lipstick on his shaft. You inhale, enjoying the smell of him in such a sinful position. “Let me clean that for you …” You take your tongue and lick from base to tip taking him in your mouth relishing in the taste of his precum. 

You bob your head, closing your eyes to focus on task. He begins to moan out your name repeatedly like a broken record. His groans of protest long since died out, he moans louder than he really should have. “Ah!~ Master .. Y/n please s- ngh .. slow down.” His requests are met with deaf ears, as you only increase your speed. 

His release hits you both hard, as when he feels the blood in his body move to his cock all at once. He thrusts his hips up into your mouth making you take his full length. You gag and soften your throat, relaxing him deeper into your throat. 

You take him out of your mouth with a pop and move up to sit in his lap. You undo your yukata with a quick tug and pull one of his hands through your tendril, ripping his wrist open. You pull his hand up to your breast knowing the injury was nothing to him. “Here, play with them! See? squishy!”  He complies by pinching your nipples reluctantly before circling your breasts in his palms. 

You let out a light moan while lining yourself up with his tip. He panics, all of his eyes widening and trying to move himself away from your dripping sex. “Wait, Master dont!” He did want this, but his length was the size of your arm by itself and he didn’t want to hurt you. You smile, taking your hand up to grip his cheek. You take his moment of distraction to drop yourself onto his full shaft. You cry out and pain shoots through your whole body in the best way.

You use your tendrils to move yourself up and down on his length. He moans even louder than before, surely his colleagues had heard you two by now. He loses control and shoves you against the futon roughly. He becomes feral and bares his fangs pressing you into your sheets. 

He goes at unmatched speed making sure to pound deep into you with each thrust. You moan loud enough for everyone present to hear you, an orgasm hitting you into a heaven like state. He falls back keeping himself inside you. You move up, crashing your lips together. Kokushibo releases his seed deep inside your womb.

You both pant loudly holding each other for the little sanity you both have left. You let out a breathless laugh snuggling into his chest. “I’ll tell you one thing .. W-We are definitely doing that again Kitten.” You kiss his nape moving into him to fall asleep. 

He hugs you back being released from your tendrils. He closes his eyes and plants a kiss on your forehead. “As you wish, Master.”

[eras-mus]

You're Just Oblivious!

Idia Shroud x Male Reader

A boy who has the privilege that no one else has, the ability to go into the dorm of his house perfect, Idia. Even though Ortho is the only one who has taken notice of this it wouldn't be hard for anyone else to tell that the two third years were dating, no matter how hard Idia wanted to hide it.

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

Y/n L/n, the most extroverted person in the Ignihyde dorm. Now don't get me wrong, he is still introverted but he can withstand a little socializing with people he's comfortable with. Unlike his boyfriend, Idia, who couldn't even stomach to talk to people in person, well Y/n and Ortho being the only exception. Idia wasn't very keen on pda, by that I mean he doesn't even like holding hands in public. It wasn't like he was embarrassed about dating the h/c-nette, quite the opposite, in fact he was very proud about even getting a boyfriend, let alone it being Y/n, one of the few people that he actually felt comfortable around. It was more about the fact that he didn't want to get any attention from the most cheerful students at school (his tier-list) Cater, Rook, and Kalim who always seem to be trying to get him to hangout with them.

"Morning my love" The sleepy h/c boy said as he rubbed his eyes.

The bluenette just hummed in response, not ready to leave bed.

"Love I need to get off of me so I can go to my room and get dressed"

Idia, once again didn't respond and instead just tightened his grip on the other males neck.

"Idia I have to get up"

"Five more minutes" he whined.

"That's what you said ten minutes ago dumbass"

"Fine" The taller/shorter male said, rolling off his boyfriend.

-Short Time skip to first period-

The yellow-eyed boy shuffled into a loud class that made him wish he stayed in bed. He shuffled to his seat beside Y/n who was having a conversation with Trey. Idia tried to block out all the noise and focus on how after school he was going to get to go back to his dorm and play video games with Y/n. The gloomy Hades look-a-like was jerked out of thought when he felt a hand on his knee, he just ignored it and rested his head on the uncomfortable table.

Soon Y/n remove the hand from his knee as the lesson started and began writing notes, mentally preparing for his hand to be cramping like shit in the next few minutes. Idia lifted his head from the desk and began taking notes trying not to think about how this is one of his few classes he had to take in person and not on his tablet.

As usual, most students were already ready to go to sleep and they were only done with the first class. The Savannaclaw students were practically falling asleep standing up from their morning practice that was followed by a dull class and a couple Heartslabyul students who's neck was decorated by a rather large collar looked ready to pass out.

Y/n slightly chuckled to himself, even after overblotting it didn't seem like the younger red head had changed one bit.

The rest of the day went by slowly with little to nothing interesting happen, Idia had returned to his room after first period and continue school on his tablet. After classes Y/n went to put his stuff down in his room before knocking on Idias door.

"Hey love, I'm going to Sam's shop to get a drink, would you like to come?"

Idia mentally fought with himself about whether or not to go before finally responding with a quick "Yeah, sure" and walking out of his room.

The two boys walked side by side through the slightly chilled afternoon air. It was silent between the two but the world around them was still filled with chatter and laughter from the fellow students. It was calming, well for Idia it was tolerable, but even so the two aloud their fingers to lace together, enjoying each other's  presence.

The time in the shop was sort, Y/n bought some drinks and Idia looked to see if there was any new games or manga he hadn't already owned.

The way back started much like the way to the shop, the air was nice, the sun was setting, and the two boys were holding hands. That is until the horrible sound of a certain Scarabia house warden began making its way towards the two.

Y/n was greeted with a sudden hug from none other than Kalim, gaining a glare of green jealousy from Idia. Y/n had to take a couple steps back to support the weight of the white haired male.

After Kalim had released Y/n and greeted him with a cheerful smile the three were joined by Jalim and Cater.

"Kalim, you can't just run off like that" Scolded a stressed Jamil.

"But it's not every day you see Idia out with someone on a date" He quickly justified his actions making both Cater and Jamil share a confused expression.

"W-what!?" Idia spat out "A-a date???"

"Yeah this isn't a date-" Y/n joined the confusion. "Besides we've been together long enough that any dates we have don't leave the dorms"

This didn't help to the confusion and shock to the other three. Okay well maybe only Jamil was in shock because Cater had snapped a photo of the two and Kalim had began jumping around, excited about the 'new' couple. The two managed to slip away as Kalim went on about how Jamil need to make food so they could throw a party to celebrate the relationship between the two. Once they got back to the dorms Idia collapsed on the bed.

"Thank the seven that's over" he sighed.

"I don't think it entirely is just yet" Y/n said showing his phone to the blue haired male. Much to his disappointment Cater had posted a picture to his magi-cam of them.

[so-much-for-stardust6]

Secret Love- Pete Wentz (Mr. Sandman)

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summary: you’re a creation of dr. benzedrine so you’ve been locked up your whole life. after sneaking out one night and meeting mr. sandman, you two started a secret relationship. what happens when you get caught one night?

lowercase intened

warnings: none (at least i think)

a/n: this was requested by @xx-scene-queen-fangz-xx so thank you sm for the idea! mr. sandman is the fellow in black (aka pete wentz) and dr. benzedrine is the one in yellow (aka patrick stump). the requester mentioned y/n and mr. sandman’s relationship relating to jack and sally’s from nightmare before christmas and i rlly stuck with that 😭 this is a little different from my usual stuff but i honestly enjoyed writing it and i hope you guys enjoy reading it!

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i sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the floor blankly. i hear the front door open and slam shut, signaling me that my fathers home. i stare at the door and see the shadow of his footsteps underneath it. a couple knocks echo in my room before he opens the door.

“hey honey, how was today?” he sauntered in, turning on the light.

my eyes flutter shut from the brightness but they slowly open once i get used to it.

“fine.” i reply back.

he sighs and goes to sit next to me. he was dressed up in his classic yellow suit meaning he was at work.

“how many times do i have to say i’m sorry..”

“sorry won’t cut it, father. it’s been 19 years since you created me and i haven’t been outside once! you lock me up in this hell hole and expect me to function like a normal child would!” i cry out in frustration.

“you watch your language! i’m keeping you in here for a reason, to protect you! people out there are ruthless, especially if they knew i created you, that you’re a product of dr. benzedrine! i know you are frustrated, honey, but you have to trust me..” he was standing up in front of me at this point.

i sat there as tears spilled down my cheeks, my hands fiddling with one another.

“please go away…” i weakly said.

“y/n..”

“please.” i say a bit louder.

he sighs once again and nods, turning around to leave. he leaves my light on as he shut the door, his footsteps echoing away. i angrily wipe my tears and walk up to my window. i stare outside to the field that surrounded our house. an idea popped into my head and i quickly walked over to my phone, dialing his number. it rang a bit before his voice spoke out.

“hello?”

“come over tonight..please.”

“is everything okay?”

“yes just-just meet me at our spot.”

“alright, see you soon.”

i hang up and start getting ready. i throw on this handmade black dress my father made along with some black boots he bought. i quickly tiptoe towards my door and slowly open it. i see the tv on in the living room followed by loud snoring. he was asleep. i walk back in my room and lock the door before going towards my window. i open it and slowly climb out, careful not to make any noise. i don’t shut it all the way so i’d be able to climb back in later. i climb down from the roof, careful not to fall. once i get down to the ground, i book it to our spot.

i make it there after running for a bit and i notice he wasn’t there yet. i sit down on the bench to catch my breath and stare at the water. the moonlight shined on the dark water, illuminating light to its surroundings.

“my love.” i hear his voice call out.

i turn around and instantly smile once i see my boyfriend, mr. sandman.

“oh you made it!”

“of course i did, i wouldn’t miss seeing you.” he walks up to me and hugs me.

his body heat warms me up causing me to shiver slightly.

“you look so beautiful like always.” he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“you sure nothing happened tonight? you sounded a bit fragile on the phone, love.” he strokes my cheek.

i look down from his gaze, preparing myself to spill my heart out to him as always.

“my dad and i got into a fight. i told him that i’m old enough to go out and that i can’t handle being locked up anymore, i-i can’t take it no more.” i sob out.

“you already know what i’m going to say, love, he-“

“he’s doing it to protect me, i know. but i’m grown now, i don’t need to be protected.”

“unfortunately you do, he’s protecting you for a reason. and now that i’m in your life, so am i.”

“how many times do i say i love you? cause it never seems enough.” i lean my head onto his chest.

he places his hand on my head and holds me close, letting me hear his heartbeat. mr. sandman was a dear friend of my father’s but i never knew of him until the night i first snuck out.

~flashback~

it’s been a month since i turned 18 and i had the high expectation that my father would let me explore the world finally. after many arguments about the topic, i finally had enough. i waited until it was well late into the night where he would definitely be asleep. i sneak out my window and clumsily climb down from my roof, missing the last step and falling to the ground. my hand gets covered in dirt and little rocks stuck to them, making my heart jump wondering if they were bugs. i brush them off and get up, looking around at the world. it was empty fields surrounding us, a small forest seen ahead.

i instantly make my way towards the said forest, not realizing that i would need a light of some sort. i try and navigate my way through the dark area with the minimal lighting i had. leaves crunched and sticks snapped as i walked, fear flowing through my veins. i told myself in my head to toughen up and that this is what i wanted. the many sounds from different animals make me jump left and right, giving me slight goosebumps. i heard more leaves and sticks crunch but not from me. i immediately stop and look around for the thing creating the noise.

“hello?” i hear a deep voice say.

i gasp out and slowly back away in fear.

“don’t be afraid, y/n.”

“how do you know my name?” my voice quivers.

the person steps out from the shadows and reveals themselves. it was a guy dressed in all black with black and white face paint on around his mouth.

“i’m a friend of your father’s. i’m mr. sandman.” he gives a warm smile.

“y-you know my dad? please don’t tell him i’m out here! he’d kill me!” i beg.

“don’t worry darling, i won’t. but you shouldn’t be out this dark, especially alone. here, let me take you somewhere safer.” he lends out a hand and i hesitantly take it. i keep telling myself that this wasn’t a mistake and that i should trust this guy. something gleaming bright snaps me out of my thoughts. he brought us to a river, the bright moon above shining brightly on top.

“this is beautiful..”

“would you like to sit down?”

i nod and walk over to the bench with him. the stars twinkle above us, my heart clenching at their beauty.

“you like the stars?” he asks.

“absolutely, i love staring at them from my window.”

i look away from the stars and make eye contact with the man.

“how do you know my father?”

“a long time friend, met when we were teenagers. you’re as beautiful as he says you are.”

“you barely even know me.”

“barely know you? darling, i’ve known you your whole life.”

the way he spoke made my stomach erupt with butterflies.

“can you show me more of this world?” hopeful he would say yes.

“no can do, you should be heading home to your father now.” he stands up.

the hope i had was now shattered but i did agree i’d rather be returning home.

“take me back? it’s a bit scary out there.” i sheepishly admit.

“of course, love.”

he accompanied me on the journey back home, chatting about the life i’ve learned to love. he warned me about strangers and told me to never mention that i’m a creation of dr. benzedrine. we made it back home just before the sun came up, birds starting to wake up and chirp.

“here you are now. sleep well, dear.” he smiles before turning around to leave.

“wait!” i call out for him.

he turns around and looks at me confused.

“how will i be in contact with you again?”

my words make him smile, a small chuckle erupting from his chest. he pulls out a pen of some sort (later figuring out it was for makeup) and grabs a leaf from the ground. he scribbles something on it before handing it to me.

“call when you know your father won’t listen.”

and with that, he left. i look down at the leaf and saw he had written his number. my heart jumps from happiness but it soon ended once i realize i don’t have a phone. that’s why in the morning i begged my father to buy me one and lied saying it was for me to call him in case of emergencies.

~flashback over~

“mr. sandman?! y/n?! what on earth is going on?!” i hear my father shout.

we pull away from each other and stare at my father (who’s stomping towards us) with white faces.

“dr. benzedrine, i-i can explain..” mr. sandman starts but was immediately cut off.

“what do you think you’re doing with my daughter?! especially outside like this! you know exactly how dangerous it is for her to be out!”

my father was up close to mr. sandman’s face, screaming at him as he poked his chest with his finger.

“father stop it!” i scream out.

“you stay out of this! you are grounded once we get home! no phone, no books, no music, no nothing! you’ll see now how it would be if you were really locked away!” his face was red with anger.

“you don’t understand me at all!” i had tears streaming down my face.

“just because i’m something you created doesn’t mean i’m forever yours to keep! you have to realize that i’m getting older and you need to let go! i love mr. sandman and i mean it! he’s shown me so much of this world, more than you ever have!“

my father just stares at me, taking in everything i’ve just said.

“you love him?”

“yes, i do.”

“do you love her back?”

mr. sandman gulps once the attention is back on him.

“with all my heart. y/n, you must take my heart because it’s already full of you. being with you all these nights had made me realize that i’d want to stick by your side, staring at the stars as we sit together. now and forever.”

“oh, mr. sandman!” i cry out, running to engulf him in a hug.

my father stares at the scene unfolding in front of him, his stomach turning with guilt once he realizes his mistakes.

“y/n you’re right. i’ve been such a terrible father, keeping you locked up tight and preventing you from seeing the world. if you do truly love mr. sandman, then you both have my blessing to be together.”

“oh father, you raised me as right as you could. you gave me life and i’m grateful. i understand that you’re trying to protect me from the things you’ve seen out in the world, but you can’t protect me forever. i love you.” i leave the hug with mr. sandman and go to hug my father.

“i love you too, honey.” he kisses the top of my head.

[thewildwaffle]

Taxidermy

Another story prompt from an ao3 user who is a taxidermist. Also, yes, the main human in the story is wearing a cape because I think of most of my stories being in a somewhat near-ish future where capes have come back into widespread popular fashion. Why? Because I believe that we deserve as much.

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Kimit was excited to have received the invitation to the banquet at the human ambassador’s home. If being totally honest, there was also no small amount of nervousness included as well. This was going to be a big night. If all went well, the Garbon Homeworld would be rolling in riches and security. Ever since Earth’s discovery and induction into the galactic community, everyone had been scrambling to make alliances and deals with humans. Thankfully the humans had enough diverse factions that no one extraterrestrial group had been able to create a monopoly for the Earthling’s attention or resources. That didn’t mean there wasn’t intense competition, Kimit frowned and landed the shuttle in a designated drop-off area. A human standing next to a podium nodded and came up to the shuttle. Kimit had done research before coming and knew to exit the shuttle, leaving the engines running. The idea of valet parking was new and a bit strange to the young garbon, but Kimit had to admit, it felt fancy. Rounding a corner to what must be the front entrance, Kimit caught sight of other guests at the front door. Most of them were human, but there were a few fellow extraterrestrials in the mix. They were dressed in various fine clothing, some were in Earth styles, some were distinctly Burnti-influenced, and others weren’t as easily discernable while still keeping a decadent look to them. Their conversation sounded pleasant and warm. As soon as they noticed Kimit, the group parted a bit. Some walked into the open doors, while others continued with their greeting customs. A tall human in a dark cape and a yellow tunic with official-looking braidings and pins called out and waved welcomingly. That had to be the ambassador. Rocco Martinez. He looked just like the photos Kimit had studied in preparation. “Garbon Kimit!” Ambassador Martinez strode towards the much shorter Kimit and placed a hand on his chin with a nod. Of course, he would know the customary greetings of each of his guests.

“I’m honored to have you here,” he continued. “I've heard a lot about you from the board of directors at NearStar Tech." "Oh?" Kimit returned the shorter garbon greeting and then reached out for a human handshake. “All good things, I hope?” “Nothing but the best!” Kimit’s entire arm shook a bit from the ambassador’s handshake. He could tell that, had the human wanted to, he could crush every bone in Kimit’s hand with a tight enough squeeze. “Daaaaad!” A voice from beyond the open door called out. “Were you wanting me to start the tour, or should I wait?” Ambassador Marinez looked for the source of the voice. The other guests still mingling outside began filing in. “That would be my oldest. I’ll have to introduce you, I’m sure she’ll have lots of questions about your line of work she’ll want to ask. Loves learning, that one!” The ambassador chuckled and started following the rest of the crowd inside. “You’ve arrived just in time too. We were just about to start a tour of the house if you’d like to join?” What luck! Kimit smiled and followed “I’d love to.”

The Martinez household was, by all means and standards, absolutely lovely. Large windows gave a view of beautiful, lush, outdoor gardens and greeneries. The furniture was well-placed and looked incredibly comfortable. Framed paintings and photos hung tastefully along walls. As the tour commenced, the ambassador would often pause to explain the significance behind a particular piece of art, or point out and name family members in pictures, or the locations the photos were taken in. Kimit had taken tours of large businesses, art museums, and governing offices before, but touring a home like this was definitely a first. That being said, it felt almost like a tour of the aforementioned. There were quiet offices and studies, one with a rather impressive private library, meeting spaces, workshop, and studio space that must have been only recently cleaned as Kimit noticed a canvas atop an easel had paint that had not yet dried. There was a garage that had several cars, speeders, and recreational crafts. The ambassador took special pride in pointing out the tools that were still laid out around one vehicle in particular. It was a hover glider sail hybrid his daughter was in the middle of building from scratch. There was also a home theatre room, bedrooms and guest rooms, and a large, busy kitchen. They didn’t stay in the last room too long, not wanting to get in the way of any of the chefs or servers inside. “I think we have a bit more time, I could show you the patio area at least. We’ll just cut through the trophy room real quick,” The ambassador started herding the group of guests through another grand doorway. “You can see our gardens, they’re absolutely beautiful right now. My wife and sons have quite the ‘green thumb,’ if you’ll pardon the expression. They even grew some of the food we’ll be eating tonight!” Kimit felt a bit excited at that. Gardening was a popular hobby among garbons, often even becoming competitive to some of the more enthusiastic. A human garden would be quite the sight to experience! Following the crowd through what Ambassador Martinez had referred to as “the trophy room,” something caught Kimit’s eye. With a glance, the poor garbon’s heart froze.

Teeth. Teeth and claws. Terrible claws. Long, sharp, deadly claws rose in the air so they could be brought down with ripping force. The creature that owned those claws was broad and tall. The brute strength of its muscles was clear even under the thick, shaggy brown fur. How had such a beast gotten in here? How many had it mauled already? What was one supposed to do when faced with such a monstrous creature?!? 'Do I freeze or do I run?' 'Can it smell me?' 'If I stand really still will it notice me?' 'Wait, why are the walls covered in animal heads?' Apparently, Kimit was not the only one in the group to be thinking along these lines. Several in the group, mostly non-human, stood petrified where they stood. A few of the humans paused, but only looked around, curious at the sight. “I didn’t know you were such a hunter,” one human in the middle of the group commented. Kimit wasn’t sure who said it exactly, but their voice seemed to snap the others out of their terror. The ambassador paused and turned around to his guests behind him. “Oh yes! Not so much anymore with the new job, but we used to go on a few hunting trips ever so often. A few of the antlers up there are mine. Those ducks up there are ones my son Bernie and I got two years ago.”

“And the bear?” The same human asked. “That’s actually one that my wife’s father got years and years ago.” It was only then that Ambassador Martinez finally picked up on the state of many in the group. “Oh, yes, so sorry everyone! I didn’t even think about-,” the color of the ambassador’s face darkened slightly as he stepped into the center of the room so he could better face the entire group. “None of the animals in here are alive, you are all perfectly safe. These are all taxidermied animals that my family has either hunted or had a special connection or interest in.” The humans and a few others in the group nodded. The rest of the group, Kimit included, just stared at the ambassador with a mixture of confusion and unease. “Dad, maybe we should take everyone outside through a different door?” the ambassador’s daughter offered from what had been the front of the group.

“No, it’s fine, we’re already right here. I just didn’t even think about scaring anyone with these guys, just so used to them, I guess,” Ambassador Martinez ran a hand through the fur of the bear creature standing next to him. It was taller than he was, but it didn’t move. It wasn’t alive, Kimit was calming down from the initial scare. “I know this may seem like a strange custom to some of you, but taxidermy is an art form where someone takes an armature and stuffing and mounts the furs we provide them with to make things like these.” Ambassador Martinez gestured to the life-like animal statues and heads around the room. “And is this is,” one of the other guests, a confused-looking donkun, ventured, “some sort of ritual humans do after the… death… of particular animals?” “Um, kind of?” the ambassador’s daughter shook her head and paused, unsure of how to explain. She looked at her father. Her father took over the explanation. “Well, I guess in a way, it could be? It’s not a ritual in the way that everyone does this or has to do this. We don’t always taxidermy what we catch. These were done because they were uncommon or had special memories associated with them. We wanted to remember them, what they looked like, and what the hunt was like, and in a way, it preserves our memories as well as the remains of the animal. “Sometimes people will taxidermy a beloved pet after it dies so that it’s almost like they’re still there with them in a way. Some people will also use taxidermies for museums and educational purposes to better display and study different animals. That’s especially helpful if the animal in question is, say, extinct, or there aren’t many living ones left to study.”

“That makes sense,” Kimit nodded and then paused. There were so many questions to be asked, but one, in particular, felt bothersome. How to ask this without coming off as judgemental or offensive? “But about the ones here, the ones, uh, the ones you and your family hunted?” “Yes?” “What happens to them, uh… I mean, do you… are they just hunted for display?” Ambassador Martinez blinked for a moment like he was digesting the question for a moment before a smile broke across his face. “Oh, no. Everything we hunt we also eat. And then whatever we don’t eat, gets used in other ways, and nothing goes to waste. We're very focused on sustainably around here," he reassured. Well, that was good, Kimit thought and nodded to show understanding. It seemed pretty much everyone else in the tour group also seemed to be a bit more at ease with that information. Still, Kimit took another glance around the room as the crowd shuffled out the door to the gardens, this room was quite unsettling. Especially that big creature. That bear thing.

Okay, yes, humans lived on the same planet with creatures like that, but was another thing altogether that humans went out of their way to cross paths with them! The newly revealed fact that they went a step further and decorated their homes with realistic facsimiles of the beasts… wow. Just wow. What the frewan would they think of next?!

Ambassador Martinez had seemed genuinely flustered that he had in any way troubled his guests by taking them through the taxidermy room. However, part of Kimit had to wonder if it was some sort of intimidation tactic. There were a lot of representatives and business leaders here looking to make whatever deals they could with the ambassador's people. Now, there wasn't a soul in the present group that wasn't made very much aware of exactly who they were dealing with: Humans who not only hunted beasts several times their size and power but then used their pelts to adorn their homes. And yet, the ambassador seemed so friendly and welcoming that those suspicions almost seemed a bit too farfetched. In any case, if this was just the tour of the house, Kimit could only wonder what else was planned for the evening.

[yellow-computer-mouse]

Chapter Three - Violet

Vio rushed around the room, making sure everything was in place. He had decided to do a little meet-and-greet with all his new dormmates and had severely overestimated how quickly he could put something together, especially without snacks. Snacks were everything.

“Why are you taking this so seriously? It’s a bunch of teenagers standing in a circle and saying their names,” Cross said, looking up from his phone. “Nobody cares this much.”

“Ever heard of first impressions? Oh, wait, no you haven’t. Remember camp? You-”

“I remember camp,” Cross sighed as Vio put the finishing touches on his stellar decorations (a fistful of crumpled streamers from the bottom of his bag), stepping back and admiring his handiwork. He adjusted a few things around the main room before determining it was ready. He went up the stairs, about to bring everyone down to talk to each other and (hopefully) make friends. He thought the one who announced the roach seemed eager to make friends with the way he was dragging around the other two.

He started with Dorm 3F. He opened the door suddenly and was greeted by a loud yelp.

“Oh my fuck, are you okay?” he asked quickly, hurrying inside and closing the door. The skeleton clad in blue he recognized from before had a hand over his nose. He pulled it down, inspecting it.

“Yeah. I’m not bleeding or anything, so I think I’ll be okay.”

“Holy fuck. I am so sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Blu3, wh4t d1d ! t3ll y0u?” came a staticky voice from his left. Looking over, he saw another skeleton (they were all skeletons, so that’s fun) with dark bones and blue tear-like streaks running down from his eyes. A third in the back corner rolled over to face him, groaning.

“What the fuck do you want?” he asked, clearly having just woken up.

“We’re gonna do introductions downstairs,” he stated simply. He flipped him off and sat upright, looking around blearily. He heard two skeletons walk down the hall behind him.

“Where are you guys going?” he asked, turning around.

“Uh, to the store,” one said, dressed in a striped yellow shirt. The shorter monster accompanying them stepped slightly to the side, hiding behind the other.

“Alright. We’ll do introductions, but you can join when you get back.” Vio got a thumbs-up as they continued to leave. He made his way to the dorm across the hall, where he was met with a significantly less organized room. Two tall monsters Vio recognized as Dust and Killer had pushed all their things into the center of the room and lay back-to-back, resting on the pile. Their third roommate, a shorter skeleton with a severe head wound, sat in the very back corner of the room, glaring at them. Vio gave his little speech to them and moved on to the next dorm- his own. With the yellow-clad skeleton at the store, that left his other roommate, a short monster in a vaguely galaxy-patterned flight jacket. They had set up what they could in the corner of the room and was playing Kirby on their DS. Vio went through all the dorms like this, notifying their tenants about his little meet-and-greet. He made his way downstairs where Cross was still sitting slumped on the couch.

“You really should have joined me,” he said, throwing himself down next to the shorter skeleton. Cross jumped noticeably as he did. “I talked to so many people.” Cross looked at him out of the corner of his eye warily.

“I’ll pass,” he said, turning his attention back to the game he was playing. Vio sighed loudly.

“Ugh. Fine.” 

Soon, the room was filled with their fellow students, all shuffling around awkwardly. Vio took in the scene, proud of his ability to gather so many teenagers without using bribery.

“Hey guys!” he called out, raising his voice slightly. Cross looked up at him, exhibiting mild annoyance. “I want to get to know all of you, so we’re gonna do pronouns! Sound good?” He paused, waiting for a response. One of the students, a short monster with a denim jacket, shrugged, shoving their hands in their pockets.

“Cool. Everyone has to introduce themselves- name, pronouns, etcetera. You don’t have to do labels, but you can. Fun facts are nice, too!” He put his hands on his hips proudly, looking around at the crowd. “Oh my god, nobody wants to say anything? Fine, I’ll go first. I’m Vio (short for Violet), he/she pronouns, I’m transfemme and bi-curious. We’re going to my left!” He flounced backward onto the edge of the couch, looking at the student next to him. They were perched on the arm of the couch and appeared kind of out of it. They briefly held up their hands, staring at them purposefully, before starting.

“Oh, that’s me. Uh, I’m Horror, and I don’t know my sexuality.”

“Pronouns, hun?” Vio urged, smiling warmly. The monster stared at him with wide eyes, frozen momentarily.

“Oh, uh, right. He/him.”

Vio recognized the monster next to Horror- he couldn’t forget the face of the skeleton he accidentally assaulted with a door.

“Oh, okay! I’m Blue, he/she/they, and I think it’s really neat we both have colors for names! Red does too!” He pumped his fists happily, turning to the short(er?) monster next to him.

“Yeah, uh. Red. He/worm.” Red glared warily at the others, seemingly waiting to see how they’d react to his statement. “...And I’m nonbinary.” A skeleton gave a slow clap from the other side of the room, nudging their neighbor to join in. They did so with much more fervor. Red discreetly flipped them off whilst simultaneously nudging the student next to him. It was the short skeleton in the flight jacket Vio also recognized. He couldn’t take his eyes off of theirs- they glowed in a way that gave Vio deja vu.

“I’m Outer,” they said. Their voice, although quiet, didn’t waver. They spoke confidently to the group but in a reserved way. It made Vio curious. He wanted to learn more about the small skeleton. “Any pronouns. I think I’m on the ace spectrum, and I’m trixic.” They paused. “If you want me to explain, I can.” Nobody spoke up. They nodded to themself.

“I’m Reaper, he/it,” declared the cloaked skeleton next to them. “You can say I look like I live at the ren fair because that’s what I’m going for.”

“You look like a weasel,” commented a taller skeleton close to Reaper.

“Excellent. Funky jackass next to me, what’s up?” He turned sharply to the glitching skeleton who was, indeed, sitting beside him.

“!’m #rr0r, 4nd !’m 4g3nd3r. ! u53 x3/x3m, 1t/1t5, and h3/h1m, 1n th4t 0rd3r.” Xe paused. “$l50, !’m 4r04c3.”

“I’m Geno, he/they. Error’s my cousin. Don’t fuck with xem.” He spoke lightheartedly, but there was a clear threat in his words.

“I’m Ink, also he/they! I’m, uhh… I-I’m a demiboy!” he finished, giving an awkward thumbs up.

“And bisexual?” Red noted dryly. Ink laughed.

“Yeah, actually! Spot on!” He looked like he was going to say something else, but he stopped abruptly, glancing toward a tall skeleton next to him.

“I’m Killer, he/him plus any neos I can find.” He gestured to a shorter skeleton sitting next to him, who had their hood up. Vio recognized them as the one who had picked up a cockroach. “This little, tiny, absolutely minuscule fellow here is my good friend, Dusty.” “Dusty” glared up at him at the excessive use of descriptors. “They go by they/it and aren’t that big on words.” Once he finished, Cross looked up and started slightly.

“Uh, I’m Cross, he/they,” he said, turning his attention back to his phone. Vio clapped, startling everyone.

“Alrighty! That was everyone, aside from the other two, but they’re at the store. I guess we can mingle.” And mingle they did. Error retreated from the group, sticking close to Geno. Reaper followed the latter, pestering him until he got punched in the shoulder. Killer grabbed Horror by the forearm and pulled him over to the couch, where Dust watched Cross fervently. Vio watched it all, feeling a proud smile tug at the corners of his face. He did it; he got everyone to socialize with each other and hopefully make some friends.

They’re gonna have a better year than I did, he thought. They’re gonna have support. They’re gonna have someone on their side. He blinked. He felt like he might cry from how proud he was for all of them. By showing up, they all took that first step that Vio was too scared to take, and he was proud.

The back door burst open, and the two who had gone to the store came through. The smaller was being carried by the other, whose face flushed orange as every eyelight in the room turned to them. Red made a comment Vio assumed was meant to lighten the mood that only caused them both to flush further.

“Goddamn. High school couples are intense,” he said with a smirk.

“Couples?!” both of them shouted with twin looks of confusion and slight disgust.

“Nightmare’s my brother!” exclaimed the taller. Their twin nodded frantically, eyes wide. “If you don’t believe me, we can sing the siblings song.” At that, Ink broke down cackling, earning a firm elbow to the ribs from Red. Vio, ready to turn the attention away from the yellow-clad skeleton, started talking to their twin, who had since been placed on the floor.

“Well, we were just doing names and pronouns, and- oh my god, are you okay?” He rushed over, kneeling quickly. A large scrape on their knee was gushing blood down their shin, and their palms were all torn up.

“Y-yeah, I-I tripped w-while we were g-getting groceries and scraped my knees,” they stammered, honestly sounding like they were about to cry. Vio felt so bad for them. They looked down at their leg and chuckled awkwardly. “I-I- Wow, I- Whoa. That’s a little worse than I thought.”

“Just a bit,” Vio replied, pulling a first aid kit out of a pocket in his hood. “Anyway, we can do introductions while I take care of this if you want-”

“Where did you get the first aid kit from?” they asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Vio responded smoothly. “Let’s worry about getting that cleaned out. Do you want to do it, or should I?”

“Oh. Uh, I don’t care,” they said nervously, averting their gaze and picking at the paint on the tile.

“Mkay,” Vio hummed. “I’m gonna do it, okay?” They nodded, and Vio got a wet paper towel, beginning to dab at the edges.

“So, uh,” they started, sounding unsure of themself. “Y-you said you wanted t-to, uh, do introductions?”

“If you like,” he said, switching the towel for a gauze pad and a tube of antiseptic. “I’m Vio, and my pronouns are he/she.”

“Nightmare. He/him,” he replied. He gestured up to his twin, adding, “This is Dream. It’s genderfluid, but defaults to it/its.”

“Alright, cool.” Vio started going down the list he’d memorized as he tended to the smaller monster. After Nightmare was all patched up, Vio gave him one last look.

God, this child is traumatized.

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

🎵 Instrument of Surrender

It's not quite late enough for us to get the evening light bonus on the wall. Let's come back to that later.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - The sight of bullet holes stirs something in you, making you forget the lieutenant's surname.

Look closer first.

"Kim, look, bullet holes!"

[Discard thought.]

ESPRIT DE CORPS - The fading marks are too degraded to draw any forensic conclusions. Just chips in the sandstone.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Medium: Success] - They look pretty ancient...

"Kim, look, bullet holes!"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Where?" He looks around.

(Point to the chips in the wall.) "Someone has been shot! We're cops, we should solve it."

"Nothing, forget about it." [Finish thought.]

KIM KITSURAGI - "There?" He looks to the wall. "Those are *old*."

"Oh, you mean like from the Revolution?"

"What do you mean old?"

"Oh, okay then." [Finish thought.]

KIM KITSURAGI - "Yes, the one that happened half a century ago." He blinks. "Those bullets were fired during the Revolution and do not warrant an investigation by officers of civil law."

"Okay. What can you tell me about this Revolution?"

"Alright then." [Finish thought.]

KIM KITSURAGI - "Not much. I don't have a *fresh perspective* on it. Shall we go?"

Not sure why that didn't trigger before, but it would have given us +1 to the Visual Calculus check to reconstruct the execution scene.

Anyway, we actually didn't quite finish our conversation with Gaston and René before.

GASTON MARTIN - "It is such a pleasure to see you again, officer. How may I aid the Citizens Militia on this fine day?"

"You mentioned Jeanne-Marie Beaulieu. Who is that?"

GASTON MARTIN - "Oh, sweet Jeannie..." He gets a dreamy look in his eyes. "She was the finest woman in all of Revachol. Maybe the entire world."

RENÉ ARNOUX - "Do not *defile* her memory, Gaston." There's an almost imperceptibly small tremble in his voice. "Let her rest in peace."

AUTHORITY [Easy: Success] - His tone lacks its usual intensity, like he doesn't feel he has the right to speak on the matter.

"So you both know her?"

"What happened to her?"

"Sounds like this is between you two. I have other matters to address."

GASTON MARTIN - "We knew her, alright..." His friendly face lights up. "Lived on the same street our entire lives, just two houses apart. The three of us have been best friends since we were four."

"She was René's first girl, back when the prick was sixteen." He looks at the carabineer almost gently. "They were courting till he decided he'd rather die for some great *idéal* than just be hap---"

RENÉ ARNOUX - "AND THEN YOU STOLE HER FROM ME!" He jerks forward, but then grabs his chest and stops.

"Easy fellows, no need for this to get ugly."

Do not intervene.

"Sorry, but I *really* wanted to just ask some questions."

GASTON MARTIN - "Oh, officer..." Gaston is unfazed by the outburst. "It already got ugly nearly eighty years ago when the three of us were just learning to walk and talk."

RENÉ ARNOUX - "You stole her from me," René repeats, trying to steady his breathing and still clutching his chest.

GASTON MARTIN - "Well... technically *you* stole her from *me*, because we'd been pretty close ever since you two had that falling out over the ink you spilled over her pretty yellow dress..."

+5 XP

RENÉ ARNOUX - "We were just boys, then. This was different. *You*..." The tall veteran looks at you and nods.

"No point starting this all over again, for the thousandth and the first time. Especially when we have company." He turns to you: "Officer?"

2. "What happened to her?"

GASTON MARTIN - "She died of pneumonia two winters ago. It was a quiet passage. Peaceful." He smiles faintly.

"René and I were both by her bedside when she..." He pauses, searching for the right word.

RENÉ ARNOUX - "Died," he sharply fills the silence and adds: "No use sugar-coating it. Won't bring her back, will it now?"

GASTON MARTIN - "Departed," his partner finishes his sentence, then chuckles: "Until the very end she couldn't decide between us. The most indecisive woman I've ever met."

3. "Why do you think she was indecisive?"

GASTON MARTIN - "She could never make up her mind about anything. What to have for breakfast, favourite colour or which one of us to marry." The look in his eyes is happy and distant.

"She was always leaving one of us for the other, but never long enough to actually get married."

"Nothing wrong with weighing your options first."

"That's a bit odd."

GASTON MARTIN - "Heck," he says with a chuckle. "*Technically* we're both still engaged to her."

RENÉ ARNOUX - "You always confused her, couldn't let us be happy..." He says with heavy resentment. "Seduced her with your fancy words and *pastries*."

+5 XP

He suddenly remembers *you* are still there, falls silent, and turns away.

4. "Thanks for sharing." (Conclude.)

GASTON MARTIN - "Of course, officer," he says with a smile. "Memories are all we have left."

+5 XP

RENÉ ARNOUX - "Vigilance, officer!" He salutes you. "What can this old carabineer do for you?"

2. "I understand Jeanne-Marie meant a lot to you?"

RENÉ ARNOUX - "There's nothing for you to *understand* here," he snaps. "It is not *her* death you are investigating."

"Were the circumstances of her death in any sense...*unusual*?"

"Where was the photo of you two taken?"

"What happened with you, Gaston, and Jeanne-Marie?"

"Alright, let's back up to a less sensitive subject, okay?"

RENÉ ARNOUX - "Absolutely not." His voice is coarse. "She died of pneumonia in her bed at the age of 79. This is highly... usual."

2. "Where was the photo of you two taken?"

RENÉ ARNOUX - "Revachol Fair of '91 in the Faubourg district." His eyes turn to the sea. "A parade was held to honour Guillaume *Le Lion's* name-day. And the carabineers marched in the place of honour."

"You looked happy in the picture. Smiling."

"Okay, thanks."

RENÉ ARNOUX - "This was the happiest day of my life." This is said in such a matter-of-fact tone, it leaves no room for doubt.

3. "What happened with you, Gaston, and Jeanne-Marie?"

RENÉ ARNOUX - "I was 22 when I returned from King Guillaume's Ikeira Operation in the south and found my sweetheart in the arms of this wretch..."

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] - 'The Ikeira Operation' was a seven-year campaign during which Suzerain Guillaume's army forcefully united the people in the southeastern part of Le Petit Continent, collectively known as the Ikeira tribes, under the Revacholian banner.

RENÉ ARNOUX - He gives Gaston a hateful look. "I won her back, but while I was dealing with some... issues..."

GASTON MARTIN - "You were like a dark cloud sucking the joy out of every living thing around you, and you..." He quickly glances at you. "You... *hurt* her."

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - Dark cloud? That sounds unpleasantly familiar...

RENÉ ARNOUX - "I... uh... I..." He looks down at his boots, lips moving, but the words are inaudible.

GASTON MARTIN - "Those days and memories are gone." He nods and looks René with something resembling compassion.

RENÉ ARNOUX - The old soldier says nothing, but when his glance quickly runs over Gaston's face, there's an odd look in his eyes.

+5 XP

EMPATHY [Formidable: Success] - Could it be... guilt?

COUPRIS KINEEMA - In the cabin you see a set of steering levers, a radio on a hook, a pull-out toolbox and the soft glow of the fuel pre-heater gauge.

4. Tap on the fuel pre-heater gauge.

COUPRIS KINEEMA - As you tap on the gauge, the indicator pin jerks as if startled. It's in the large orange sector, indicating the engine is warm. Next to the gauge is a red switch labelled HEAT.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Now-now. That's enough fun with the foldable headlights. I know they're mesmerising. They're also fragile. I'm not going to turn it on for you again."

Pick up the radio again.

ALICE - "This is Precinct 57," the operator greets you through the static. "How may I assist you?"

"Alice, please connect me to the 41st again."

"Please connect me to Sylvie again."

"Connect me to Jamrock Public Library."

"I need to report a dead body on the Martinaise boardwalk."

"I'm done with the radio for now." (End call.)

ALICE - "One moment..." You can hear her shuffling through some papers.

"Can you please describe the body -- age, sex, cause of death?"

"An unidentified middle-aged man. Height 170-175 cm, dark hair, medium build. Looks like he slipped, fell through a hole in the boardwalk and hit his head against the metal bench."

KIM KITSURAGI - "We suspect he might have been inebriated when he fell -- there were bottles all around him, and traces of vomit on his shirt."

ALICE - "Any signs of violence?"

"No, seems like it was an accident."

"Someone might have… pushed him?"

"There might be a *sequence killer* on the loose."

ALICE - "No field autopsy necessary..." she repeats.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Medium: Success] - You can hear her quickly typing in the background.

ALICE - "What about his belongings? Did you examine his clothes?"

"He was wearing boots, trousers and an old leather jacket with a bright blue lining. I found a library card from his pockets."

ALICE - "Any information on the library card?"

"It's from Central Jamrock Public Library. It belongs to someone named Billie Méjean."

ALICE - "Good, you have a lead."

"Do you and Lieutenant Kitsuragi want to take the case or should I assign it to someone else?"

"We're taking the case."

ALICE - "I have assigned the case to Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi. Please follow up on this library lead to identify the man. We'll send someone to take the body to the morgue."

"That's all for now. Thank you for reporting in. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

3. "Connect me to Jamrock Public Library."

ALICE - "Hold on, officer."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"I've got Central Jamrock Public Library on the line and I've already introduced you to their librarian. Connecting the call in 2... 1..."

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "Yes, this is Central Jamrock Public Library here." A male librarian answers the call. "How can I help you, officer?"

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - He sounds worried, yet ready to assist. This is how people get when the police call.

"I'm looking for any information that you can provide on Billie Méjean, a reader."

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "Billie, Billie *Méjean*, you said? Give me a moment, I'll have to check our database." He puts down the receiver.

"..."

"..."

"..."

SHIVERS [Medium: Success] - On Meroe drive in Central Jamrock -- in a darkened hall lit by orange desk lamps -- far away from the noise outside -- a middle-aged man taps commands into an old radiocomputer. A printout falls on the desk. Behind him, a lonely reader scours some dusty bookshelves, looking for a paperback...

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "Yes, hello, are you still there?" You can hear him fiddle with the printout. "I found Billie Méjean's home address, is that alright? No phone number unfortunately."

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - They're too poor to have a phone line.

"Yes, home address is fine."

"I'm not really that good with addresses."

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "Here we go, sir: Rue de Saint-Ghislaine 33B, apartment no 20. It's in Martinaise, I believe... Capeside Apartments, it says. That's all."

REACTION SPEED [Easy: Success] - That's where the smoker on the balcony lives, isn't it?

A couple doors down, I believe.

"Do you have any other information on Billie Méjean?"

"Thank you. That's all from me, I have no other questions." (End call with the library.)

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "It says here that they returned their last book just a few days ago, but I wasn't at work that day."

"Do you know someone who was?"

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "Marie?" He covers the phone with his hand and yells out into the room behind him: "Marie! Do you remember a reader named Billie Méjean? They returned a Thibault book the other day..." You hear someone answer from afar.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Challenging: Success] - "Maurice, what?!" a woman yells. Then: "Yes-yes, okay, if it was the police..." She starts explaining something.

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "Yes, it was my colleague Marie," the librarian is speaking into the phone again. "She said that it was Billie's *husband* who returned the book. He also asked for this new sci-fi release "Loos, Radio City '87", but we don't have it yet."

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - Good. You have a name now.

"So Billie Méjean is a woman, not a man? How did your colleague know that it was her husband?"

"Do you know the husband's name?"

"Can Marie describe to me what the husband looked like?"

"Thank you. That's all from me, I have no other questions." (End call with the library.)

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "Marie knows Billie, she's been working here longer than me. Sometimes her husband returns some books for her."

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - And then goes for a little drink later, on the lookout...

2. "Do you know the husband's name?"

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "Sorry, no -- Marie only knows him by sight."

3. "Can Marie describe to me what the husband looked like?"

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "Marie..." A moment passes.

"She said it was an older man... And that she's pretty sure he had had a drink or two the last time she saw him."

"What was he wearing?"

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "Uh, one second..." The librarian turns away from the phone again and relays the question.

"Sorry, Marie wasn't really paying any attention to that."

4. "Thank you. That's all from me, I have no other questions." (End call with the library.)

JAMROCK PUBLIC LIBRARY - "Happy we could help. Good bye, officer." The librarian hangs up and the call gets redirected back to the station with a soft click...

+5 XP

Level up!

ALICE - "Anything else you need from me?"

3. "I'm done with the radio for now." (End call.)

ALICE - "Fifty-seventh, over and out." Her voice disappears into the void.

One more small task to attend to while we're still out and about.

BIRD'S NEST ROY - "Hello hello! Let me know if I can help you with anything."

"Hey, do you know how to fix this?" (Show him the bundle of magnetic tape.)

BIRD'S NEST ROY - He looks at the bronze-coloured bundle in your hand. "You mean re-spool it? Yeah, I do, but..."

"Great! Could you do it, please? This is important, I need to be able to play this tape for someone."

BIRD'S NEST ROY - He slowly finishes his thought: "...but I'm not some Mr. Fixit, I'm a pawnbroker. If you want to pawn the tape, sure. Although it looks pretty... worthless."

SUGGESTION [Trivial: Success] - Just explain why you need this so much. He's bound to understand.

"Wait, but you tinker with film tapes all the time. Isn't that the same?"

"Worthless? It's not worthless, Roy. This could be the next big thing for the local dance music scene."

"Hmh, maybe you can help me some other way, then."

BIRD'S NEST ROY - "No, it's different... those film tapes actually *mean* something to me, but this is just a worthless bundle of old tape."

"Worthless? It's not worthless, Roy. This could be the next big thing for the local dance music scene."

BIRD'S NEST ROY - "Huh?" He slowly taps his fingers on the counter. "What do you mean?"

"Do you know that old church down the coast?"

BIRD'S NEST ROY - "Yes. What about it?"

"I met some young ravers near the place. They want to turn the church into a nightclub and play some weird neo-disco beats there -- they call it *anodic dance music*. I promised to help them with that."

BIRD'S NEST ROY - "Is it any good? The music, I mean."

"No, that's the thing -- you can't believe how unbelievably thin the beat is. There's nothing to it, no bass! It just goes *bzoot-bzoot-bzoot*. But this tape could make it *hard core*.

"Not very. I need to funk it up."

BIRD'S NEST ROY - "Man, you're really invested in this." He looks at the bundle of tape in front of him. It shimmers under the shop's dazzling light show.

"Okay, I'll help you out. It's going to take a moment though, so just sit back and relax..."

You take some time to look around the store… The play of visuals all around the pawnshop is mesmerizing. Suddenly, Roy turns back to you with a reel of tape in his hand and coughs.

(Look at the clock.) "Wait, this took more than just 'a few moments'. That was at least fifteen minutes!"

"Well, thanks for the help." (Proceed; take the repaired tape.)

BIRD'S NEST ROY - "Yeah." He nods. "It was. Re-spooling isn't that difficult, although I had to mend the tape in a few places."

"Anyhow, it's yours now..." He slides the tape closer to you on the counter top.

2. "Well, thanks for the help." (Proceed; take the repaired tape.)

BIRD'S NEST ROY - "Yeah. My pleasure. I do what I can for true passion projects... Just try not to use this tape for negative photon emissions. Take responsibility, okay."

The bronze-coloured tape found in the branches of a hawthorn tree has been reconstructed into an usable reel of magnetic tape. It's pretty fragile and in an odd format which doesn't fit into any portable tape players. Nevertheless, Egg Head will be stoked.