#everything but one bit i did in there was exceptionally on brand for me so i'd be curious if people can guess what was mine haha

[huntunderironskies]

Coming soon to the Storyteller's Vault...

Requiem for Rome: Second Edition

A full update of the original Requiem for Rome to the design sensibilities of 2e and new features, including:

A detailed history of Rome's restless dead, from the founding of the Camarilla to their untimely downfall

Six Dark Eras set across the rule of the Roman Empire

An update to Blood Sorcery and rules for the Strix

New Merits, Devotions, and rites

Full writeups for all Clans and Covenants

Thirteen new Horrors stalking the shadows of the Empire

Coming May 31st from None More Dark Studios. Previews posted here.

[gojo-enthusiast]

Suguru Geto ~ Bad Day, Don’t Fuckin Speak

*Bad Day at work* MDI, 18+ Only! Suguru usually being loving when you two have sex, has an exceptionally challenging day, as he finds out Satoru deleted all of the contract agreements for an account Suguru was supposed to have signed today.

Psa: rough sex, degrading, calling names, P in V, unprotected sex, blowjob, biting, pinching, ass slapping. Fluff at the end okay okay

Word Count: <1750+

No proofread! Like, reblog! Follow me on X (Twitter) 🫶🏻

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suguru was always loving when it came to sex. He was always gentle, and patient. Knowing it always took you a little bit longer to adjust, especially to his size. Suguru the very loving husband of yours, always listening to you about your day, and cuddling up to you on the couch. Watching some tv show he would never pick for himself. But he knows how much you like it, so he didn’t really care.

You had texted him asking him what he wanted for dinner, not getting a response. Suguru was always good about responding, you had even seen that he read it, so why didn’t he respond? You just figured maybe he was just a little busy. Well a little busy was an understatement, he was extremely, ungodly busy. Satoru his co-founder of a company they built together. Sponsoring new celebrities in campaigns, and dealing with marketing, publicity, things like that. Satoru had by accident trashed the contract for a new model they were signing on, TODAY! Satoru didn’t realize the papers he deleted from his computer, had been the PDF that Suguru sent to Satoru. Of course Suguru could have simply printed it again, but they were in front of the new model as Satoru realized not only did he shred the physical copy, thinking it was the draft, but he deleted the PDF. Suguru had to pretty it up, saying they have been having some unfortunate technical difficulties, as Satoru’s laptop had crashed. And they were waiting on his new one to arrive. Making some bogus excuse that everything was done through Satoru computer. Rescheduling the visit for the following day.

“What the fuck Satoru!” Suguru yells, “You had one fucking job!” Suguru hisses, “man it’s okay, they’ll come tomorrow.” Satoru says, sipping his iced caramel frappe. Suguru knocks it out of his hand, making Satoru finally stand up mad. “HEY! THAT WAS LIKE $7!” Satoru exclaims, “YEAH AND THAT CONTRACT DEAL WAS $3M THAT WE CAN POSSIBLY LOSE BECAUSE OF YOUR INCOMPETENCE! You realize they are modeling for the top designer brand in 2 weeks, if he doesn’t sign that deal, WE GET NOTHING!” Suguru yells.

Moral of the story, Suguru was fucking fuming still. He walks in the door, and you hear him. Perking up, excited to see your lovely husband. You made his favorite food, Zaru soba! “Hey baby!” You say smiling, going up to him for a kiss, he brushes past you, causing a frown on your face. You aren’t used to him being upset, quite frankly you had never seen Geto this mad.

You’ve seen him frustrated but never to the point where he brushed past you. “Hey, Suguru. What’s wrong?” You say walking up to him, as he’s walking down the hall to your shared bedroom. No response. “Suguru.” You say again, getting worried. “Suguru Geto!” You shout. You weren’t one to shout, but he was just not listening. He turns around, and gets close to your face, you can see his face is red as a tomato, and he looks like he’s about to burst.

“Quit fucking calling my name. Can’t you see I want to be left the fuck alone.” He says through gritted teeth. You didn’t know what to say, your eyes start swelling up in tears. Your husband had never spoken to you that way. He turns away, walking into the bedroom, walking into the bathroom slamming the door.

You sit on the edge of the bed, feeling that lump in your throat. He finally gets out the shower, You hear him on the phone, with who you’re guessing is Satoru.

“Quit fucking calling me. You’re the last person I want to speak to. You fucked up my whole day, now I have my wife crying because I’m so angry at you!” He yells, “Oh fuck you Satoru. Suck my cock!” Suguru yells before you hear silence. You’re guessing he hung up. He opens the bathroom door, and the light from the bathroom door is showing Suguru the tears down your cheek. “Su-Suguru.” You whimper, “Y/N, no.” He puts his hand up gesturing he doesn’t want to hear anything. “I want silence. I don’t want to hear anything but my cock in your mouth, and your pussy. Do you understand?” He hisses, walking up to you, gripping your hair to have you look up at him. “Do you understand?” He repeats, you nod. Tears streaming down your face, you had never seen this side of him, so you didn’t know if you should feel horny or scared. Honestly you were a mix of both, feeling your nipples harden.

Suguru takes his towel off, exposing his hard member. Bringing your face down, tapping his swollen tip on your lips, his way of telling you to open the fuck up. You open your mouth, taking in his swollen cock, feeling his hands lace behind your head, into your hair. Throwing his head back, feeling a relief already. “Fuck yes.” He moans, “deeper.” He pushes himself deeper into your mouth, feeling his cock in your throat. Your gagging, drool coming out of your mouth, and tears streaming down. “Suck, you slut.” He hisses, as much as this should be hurting your feelings right now, you were so wet from this. You had always wanted Suguru to sometimes turn off that sweet loving husband, and just fuck you like a whore. You start to squeeze your thighs together, feeling yourself get wet. “Spread your legs.” He demands, watching you spread your legs. “Touch yourself.” He adds. You reach down, pulling your panties to the side, feeling your juices instantly touch your fingers, you start to rub your clit, moaning on his cock, as he thrust it in and out of your mouth. “give me your fingers, the one in your cunt.” He demands, you take them out, lifting your hand up to him, he leans down, still have your face pushed against his cock, he sucks your fingers. “You dirty fucking whore. Wet from sucking my cock. Is this what you want? For your pretty little mouth to get fucked?” He groans, face-fucking you. “Answer me!” He hisses, you nod, as you still have his cock shoved down your throat, feeling yourself about to pass out from the lack of oxygen. Finally he cums, you feeling it going down your throat, he pulls out. And you’re coughing, catching your breath. “Are you fucking crying still?” He asks, you nod no, wiping your tears.

Next thing you knew, he had your panties across the room and your shirt was somewhere. He was biting you all over, leaving love bites all over. Not caring if someone will see it. “Suguru-“ you moan out, “what did I fucking say!?” He slams his fist on the bed, your head right next to where he just slammed, “what did I say!?” He questions angrily, “y-you s-said th-that you-you did-didn’t want to hear-he-hear me sp-speak.” You stutter, “Don’t make me tell you again, do you understand?” He hisses in your ear. You nod.

“Turn over.” He demands, you were taking to long, he flipped you over himself, arching your back for you, putting you in the position he wanted, he wanted to fuck you from behind. you didn’t mind this position, but you loved to see his face, and he loved to watch you cum. But today, he didn’t want to look at you, he wanted to look at your pussy pull him in, and cum around him. He slapped your ass, as your knees got weak, “keep your back arched.” He demands, “yes sir.” You say. You weren’t supposed to speak, but the yes sir was allowed after he heard it. “I’m going to let that one slide, since you sounded so fucking sexy saying that.” He whispers in your ear. You had to control your moan, as you felt him sink into you, he was kissing your g-spot so perfectly. He starts thrusting, not even giving you time to adjust, he leans forward, fondling your titties, pinching your nipple. Causing a yelp come out of your mouth, he leans back, back straight, he slaps your ass hard. “Shut the fuck up.” He says sternly.

You are in pure bliss right now. You are loving every minute of this. Loving every minute of being fucked so stupid. He is thrusting faster and faster, slamming into you, with no remorse. He puts his hand on your clit, and starts to rub it fast, wanting you to experience a high level orgasm as well. Because no matter how angry he is, he would never let you go without being satisfied. He loves you to much to do that to you. At this point you forget the whole no sound rule, you are moaning out, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming” you moan, “fuck. Yes. Cum around this cock.” He grits his teeth. Finally releasing his seed into you. And you cum around his cock. He’s slowing down his pace, he pulls out, flipping you on your back. Inserting his cock back in, rocking his hips back and forth again. Feeling you twitch and hug his cock so perfectly, causing a second orgasm to erupt from you, and a third for him. He watches your face as you cum around his cock, his favorite sight. “You look so beautiful when you cum baby.” He kisses your lips, you kissing him back. “Sugu.” You moan, latching your arms around his neck. “I’m sorry baby, was I too rough?” He asks, kissing your cheek. “Yeah but it felt goood, it’s okay Sugu.” You say kissing him back. “Just, don’t ever ignore my kisses again.” You pout. “I’m sorry baby, I had a terrible day. I needed to fuck out the steam. I should have been gentle.” He says caressing your neck, rubbing the parts he left marks on. “It’s okay baby, I liked it.” You say running your fingers through his hair. “Oh did you?” He smirks, feeling his cock harden up again. All of a sudden he grabs his phone and takes a video of his cock entering into your cunt, and sends it to Satoru saying, “Someone was a victim to your incompetence today. Handle the account tomorrow, I won’t be coming in.” He presses send and throws his phone to the other side of the bed, “I’m gonna fuck you all night princess.” Suguru smirks.

Suguru surely didn’t show up to work, and Satoru did exactly what Suguru told him to. Fearing that when Suguru comes in, he might just beat his ass.

[getosbf]

Sherliam and sleeping positions: a ramble

The way sherliam is, i dont think they cuddle to sleep. They dont make out and run their fingers through each other's hair before going to sleep in each other's arms and here's why:

As much as I melt over every sliver of physical affection in fics, none of their primary love language is touch or physical affection. I'm pretty sure someone had talked about their love languages, but ive been thinking about this a lot so im not sure.

Sherlock's touch is a bit on the casually rough side. A small punch to the shoulder, a ruffle of hair, a pat on the back. But following his character development in NYC, he had become a lot more gentle, both physically and emotionally. Still, I don't think he's big on touch because, well, he's sherlock.

William is somewhat more comfortable with touch. A supportive hand on shoulder, a tender brush of lips, fingers deliberately brushing against the other's while reaching for the same thing. While it does suit him more, his main love language isnt touch either. He is much more of an acts of service kind of guy, which furthers his guilt in early nyc days of letting sherly take care of everything for him.

Now, what their love language might be, which is code for what i firmly believe it is, is quality time. Throwback to Durham date, sherly turning a murder case into a game just so could spend more time with moriarty before they get off the train, the "i wanted to leave everything just to continue spending time with you" snippet from William's letter. It makes perfect sense that their love language would be quality time.

They're happy to be beside each other. They're both exceptionally intelligent, it wouldnt be out of character for them to just... absorb the love without having to touch. They can feel the love in the serene quietness of their apartment in the morning. They can feel the love in "what do you want for dinner?" "i did the dishes while you were gone." "im making coffee for us both." They know the love is there, they dont need to be all over each other to feel its presence.

As one of my favourite books of all time says, intimacy is not about sex. Its not about touches or kisses or lips on necks. Intimacy is about the truth. Intimacy is when you lower your walls and let someone in. Intimacy is when you show them the entire truth of your existence and say "do you still love me?"

And thats what they did. They know each other. From the favorite brand of coffee to the subject of their nightmares, they know each other like no one else does. And that's more intimate than any form of touch ever discovered.

So here's what i think, they dont sleep in each other's arms every night. At least, they dont intentionally. They have their own sides of the bed. They might fall asleep facing each other, but thats as much as they intend.

Now unintentionally, thats a different thing. By unintentionally I mean the nights where sleep doesnt come to one of them, and the other slides closer to play with the his hair. And nights where Liam cant sleep from nightmares and sherlock sleepily pulls him against himself, unknowingly rubbing circles on his back with his thumb. And nights when sherlock remembers sitting beside Liam's bedside, desperate to see those carmine eyes open again and so he reaches out to cover Liam's hand on the blanket with his own just like he did back in the hospital, feeling his eyes droop because he knows this time when he wakes up those eyes will be open too.

My point is, when they do touch, they make sure it means something to both of them. Which is why they would not be big on cuddling and snogging.

[gwilymz]

filthy f*cking rich--part three

hey! here is part three; i made it quite a bit longer, as it’s more of a build up chapter + i have a wild couple of weeks coming up, so im not certain i’ll have time to write a lot! i hope you enjoy, and please don’t forget to give me feedback; i love reading your thoughts for motivation!

Synopsis: Filled with guilt about what happened, you debate telling Rava, but don’t want to ruin everything you’ve built. But you’re certain it will never happen again, so what’s the harm in leaving out the truth?

Word Count: 5.1k 

Warning: Mention of drugs/alcohol, very tiny allusion to SA if you really squint

What was beautiful about October in New York–the molting trees, chartreuses turning to ochres and the visible metamorphosis from alive to dead–was gone, replaced with the silver sleet of brand new snow, the christening of December in the city. You were cold–freezing, actually–waiting for the subway. It was a Thursday, your least favorite day of the week. The day when every menial, trivial little thing you did each day before began to catch up to you, and you asked yourself: what the fuck am I doing? Waking up at seven, class at eight, and then another, and then another. Picking up Iverson and Sophie from school, pretending you had money, privilege, the comfort of the elite family you were paid to blend into three nights a week. Seeing their life, it made you wonder why the most wealthy always seemed to be the most wracked with unfathomable stress. Was that what made them rich? Was it that seething inability to let go, that primal drive for the top slot, the make-believe ceremony into the glistening one percent?

The job was almost depressing. Depressing, because you liked it so much, and eventually, you had to go back to shitty studio apartments and bugging millenial men at hole-in-the-wall bars for free shots. It was easy; Iverson and Sophie weren’t perfect kids, but they were fun, smart, independent. That fun age where they weren’t indoctrinated into thinking everything was so dumb and embarrassing. And, they were exceptionally excited, curious. Plus, you liked Rava–no, you loved her. She was charming, funny, beautiful, charismatic: the list goes on and on. And on and on if you really thought hard about it. But that was the thing about her. You didn’t have to think hard. You could smoke a cigarette with her in the backyard, you could tell her about boy problems, and she could tell you about failed first dates, and how hard she was trying to make amends with her husband, who she iterated, was her soon to be ex-husband. You were open with her, and she wanted to be more than just the woman who paid your rent and then some. 

Which is why you felt bad, arriving at Rava’s apartment that night. It was dark outside but only seven, the time of the year where you felt productivity should be a choice, a two hour obligation at most. You knocked on the door, rubbing your numbed hands together. Your fingers were prickly, but the anxiety in your stomach prickled more, explaining why you hadn’t bothered to eat all day. You had thought that burning, profound guilt in the pit of your gut would have subsided by now, at least a little. But, in fact, it had just gotten worse. Every joke, laugh, hug–everything you shared with Rava was tinged with that bitter tang of betrayal, and it felt disgusting.

Rava answered the door, pushing some dangly earrings into her lobes, long, delicate and gold. You stupidly wondered if Kendall had bought her those. 

“Hey, Y/N!” She smiled, ushering you in. “I’m so sorry for taking long, I thought Sophie was answering, I don’t know where she is–fuck, I’m flustered.” She shut the door behind you, slipping the other earring in. “I’m going on a date tonight, I thought why not, you know?”

You bent down, untying your sneakers. “Hey, no judgement. If anything, it’s a free dinner. But I hope it goes well, better than the last one at least.” Kicking off your shoes, you stood up. Rava took your coat, always so hospitable. 

“Yeah, no shit. Anything could be better.” She rolled her eyes, big and brown. You knew why Kendall had married her. Fuck. “Speaking of dates, I kind of went on one with Kendall. Last week.”

You tried not to give a reaction. “Oh, shit, Rava, how did that go? Should I be offering my condolences?” You quirked your eyebrows; your interest had been piqued. 

“Um, it was interesting. Pretty bad,” She admitted. “Could tell he had snorted a line–or four–before; he practically begged me to come out to dinner with him, talked himself up to me for an hour and then confessed he was still in love with me.” 

You were somehow shocked, yet unsurprised. The meaning of mutually exclusive seemed to not exist anymore. “Wow,” You walked with her to the kitchen, where Sophie and Iverson weren’t listening; they were tuned in to their iPads, dead to the world. “I mean, is he wanting to get back together, to scrap the divorce? He seems very unstable, all of this behavior, at least leads to the thought.”

“Unstable doesn’t even scratch the surface, Y/N.” She poured you a glass of water. “Do me a favor, don’t marry a rich guy. It seems fun, but they’re fucking insane. All the money with none of the emotional availability. I swear I never knew what the fuck was happening with him until we split up.” She waited for you to take a sip, lowering her voice. “Yeah, he does want to get back together, actually. I–don’t want the kids to know. It will get their hopes up, and Kendall is kind of fucking infamous for doing that to them–to everybody, actually. I just can’t though.” 

“Understandable,” you quipped. It was. “That’s just–I don’t even know what to say.”

“Me neither, I didn’t know what to say. Or do. I just wish he could move on. I want to be friendly, of course, but I can’t deal with the whole wining and dining and acting like I owe him something. He’s barely here, and when he’s here, he’s not here, you know? I just wish he would fuck someone else, get a distraction. Like, I wish I didn’t have to be the bitch anymore.” She was flustered, visibly annoyed by him, by the ordeal, by its effect on her children. She took a sip of tap water. “Listen, I’m sorry for dumping that on you. You’re young, no need to worry about marriage and all that. Seriously, revel in your youth. I’m jealous of you.” And just like that, she shrugged everything away. Off her shoulders, and onto your own. She hadn’t meant it that way, but your back was starting to become sore from carrying the shards of unspoken promises, broken and heavy. 

You laughed, trying not to let your anxiety seep through its guilty sound. “You don’t have to tell me twice. But seriously. I think the distraction is good. I don’t know if you feel guilty about the dates, but don’t. You deserve somebody new. A distraction, at least.”

Rava clutched her hand to her chest, bunching her eyebrows together. “Y/N,” She cooed. “So sweet. I seriously am so lucky to have found you. Fate’s mysterious, isn’t it?” 

And then she left, huddled under the arm of a tall attorney, blond and smiley, full of laughs that sounded genuine. Kendall would probably despise him. 

Resting your head on the kitchen island, you sighed. Rava had sent the kids upstairs to finish their homework, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Thus began the tri-weekly tug-of-war between whether to maintain your innocent, clueless veneer or to tell your boss-slash-friend that her ex-husband-who-stil-loves-her fucked you six weeks ago. Rava was right; fate was mysterious. And in that particular instance, you fucking hated it. 

–

At eleven-thirty, the kids were asleep. Probably not, but they were in their rooms, at least. You were on the couch in the living room, working on a final paper, something simple, but time consuming. Feeling a low vibration under your butt, you fumbled to grab your phone. 

“Hey,” You answered, opting to put earbuds in to quell the noise. “What’s up?” It was Libby and Amelia.

“I mean nothing, just procrastinating. You at Rava’s?” Amelia asked. You could hear her lighting a cigarette. 

“Yeah, she’s on a date. I’ll probably be here ‘til one.” You closed your laptop. 

“Long date.” Libby chimed in. “Listen, we are going out tomorrow. You’re fucking going.”

“No, I’m not.” You laughed, running a hand through your hair. 

“Dude, why the fuck not?” She groaned.

“I’m tired, for one. I just paid rent, for two.”

“Shut up, Y/N, I know your hourly rate.” Amelia took a drag, stifling a small cough. “No need to be coy about it.”

“Can I say something? ‘Cause Amelia and I have been talking about how fucking weird you have been.”

“Since when? It’s nothing personal, I’m just tired. Once finals–”

“Okay, no.” Amelia interrupted. “Ever since, like, fucking October, you’ve been weird. And we were kind of backtracking to see if it was something regarding us, but we think it was that club.”

“Okay, you’re backtracking now?” You scoffed. “Why are we sleuthing? And what club are you talking about?” Of course, you knew exactly what club. You hadn’t even stepped within a 100 foot radius of a club since that night–a hard feat for living in Manhattan. 

“The last time you went out!” Amelia responded, lighting another Camel Crush. “You went home with that rich guy, and we are concerned, is all. Not trying to pry, it just feels like maybe–”

“Maybe what?” You heard a door open upstairs. Getting up, you moved to the bathroom to your left. 

“Maybe he–” 

“Okay, no. I appreciate your concern, but no. It was good.”

“That’s great, Y/N, and you don’t like, owe us information, but we also think it’s weird you are kind of refusing to tell us anything about it.” Libby added. 

“Yeah, I know. I haven’t told you guys anything about it but–” You sighed, turning on the faucet to drown some of the noise out. The thing was, you really shouldn’t tell them. You wanted to. You also didn’t. The best option–the logical option–was to bury it deep down, hope to forget about it, and pray that whatever force of fate which created this depraved dynamic wouldn’t be cruel enough for Kendall to figure out it existed in the first place. But, keeping it locked up felt wrong, and who would your friends tell? They’d never meet Rava, nor Kendall, nor the kids. It had an allure. “Fuck, I can’t.”

“Okay, we really don’t want to pry but now we have to fucking know. So, we’re prying.” Amelia said. 

“Drop the mysterious shit right now.” Libby muttered. 

“Fuck! Okay!” You needed to tell someone. Any third party. You were surrendering. Your throat was dry, and it felt like a sign for you to keep your mouth shut, to swallow these poisonous words and hope they didn’t fucking kill you.  “I have to whisper. Even then, I really shouldn’t.”

“Is it actually that dramatic?” Libby asked. 

“Okay, shut up.” 

And then you told them. About his finger caked in coke, the flirty remarks and stolen touches at the club. The private driver, the perfect penthouse, the dirty sex, the heavily connoted name. Kendall Roy. 

“And?” Libby scoffed. 

“And.” You swallowed; there wasn’t a sound on the other lines. “And, my boss. Her name is Rava Roy.”

Both of them gasped simultaneously. “There is no fucking way.”

You shushed them, content on keeping the contents of the call within the safe haven of the downstairs bathroom, hidden in the cranberry candle scented air. “And I don’t need it getting out. To anyone.”

“Okay, well.” Amelia urged.

“Well, what,” You whisper-yelled.

“If you didn’t know that he was their dad and her ex beforehand then obviously he’s not very involved–”

“--Yes, meaning he is a piece of shit, deadbeat dad. And that he’s likely a privileged little slut.”

“--Also meaning, there’s like, no chance he will find out. Or that she will.” Amelia continued. “He was a good fuck;  it was a coincidence. You didn’t even know until after the fact.”

Libby interrupted. “Yeah, I mean it would be completely different and fucked if you had known the whole time, but you didn’t so, just a freaky coincidence. Big whoop. It won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, I mean I guess, but do you at least see why I’m freaking the fuck out?” You asked. Realizing the water was still running, you turned off the faucet, pressing an ear to the door to listen for any eavesdropping or the soft padding of socks downstairs. Sophie was keen on midnight snacks. 

“Yes,” Libby replied. “Definitely.”

“Plus,” You interjected, leaning your back against the door, assessing that the coast was, in fact, clear. “Rava confides in me and tells me a strange amount about their dynamic. Last week he like, tried to fuck her and confessed he’s still in love with her and that he wants to get back with her.”

“And does she want that?”

“No, but–” you sighed. “I really fucking like this job, and Rava and the kids and the fucking money. And I’m just fucking guilty. And I feel like this means he’s like, wanting to be more present in their lives, which is good, but also sucks because I don’t want to be a bitch, because Sophie and Iverson deserve that but–”

“Okay, Y/N, take a deep breath. It’s okay.” Amelia interjected. 

You sighed, taking her advice, holding your breath and counting to ten. “I want him to be better for their sake. But if I’m here three nights a week, and he’s back in their lives consistently, I’m bound to see him eventually.”

You hung up, not wanting to keep thinking it over, not wanting anyone else’s mistaken advice. You could quit, but there were practically no pros on that side of the chart. You would lose your income, have to get a job that required actual labor, and get paid a quarter of your current wage. Plus you would lose touch with Rava, and the kids. 

And maybe, just maybe, the tiny little devil on your shoulder was also a little bummed that you would be further removed from Kendall. Because as much as you had thought about him within the context of Rava and your job, and Sophie and Iverson, you also couldn’t stop thinking about the way he kissed you and how the bassy sound of his voice in your ear made your back arch. And that–admitting that little pang of disappointment stemmed from a small crush on Kendall Roy–was what pissed you off the most about the entire situation. 

–

Friday night came quickly, and you had forgotten about your ordeal, as you had so endearingly decided to call it, a shorthand for the cause of your biweekly panic attacks and the reason why therapists near me was your most recent Google search. It wasn’t by your own doing; Amelia and Libby had all but forced you to take a few tequila shots with them, a celebration of the weekend and a triumphant end of the fall semester. 

“What club are we going to?” You asked, fake gagging as you handed Libby another tequila shot; a smell akin to hand sanitizer and nail polish remover wafted into your nose.

“Not a club,” She responded, slamming the shot back. “We thought it might be a little more wise if we eased you back into things.”

“Ease me back into things? So a bar?” You laughed, holding up two different tops, a silent inquiry as to which one fit better for the occasion. 

“Not a bar either,” Amelia pointed to the black one, a low cut and lacy number that was somehow as slutty as it was classy. “Some guy invited us to a party at his ‘big boy house’ as he called it.”

You dropped the shirt onto your bed, confused. “What the fuck?” Pulling your t-shirt off over your head, you turned to face them. “What guy? We are not going to some random guy’s ‘big boy house’.”

“I don’t remember his name. Don’t think he gave it to us.” Amelia shrugged.

“Okay, well that’s somehow the least of my concerns right now.”

Libby shimmied into a tight dress, pulling the straps over her arm. “It’s fine. We can check it out and see how many people are there and dip if it's sketchy. No big deal.”

Amelia shrugged. “We just thought it was a different scene. If you really don’t wanna go–” 

“--No, I’ll go. I’m just high strung right now. If this guy holds us hostage in his closet, though, I’m fucking killing you both first.” 

“Yeah, fair,” Amelia leaned out your window, smoking a cigarette. The night was cold, the cars on the street more obnoxious than usual, thanks to the taupe sludge which lined the streets and gutters of every corner of the city. “Trust us, though,” She exhaled. “He really does not seem like the type to have it in him.”

“Yeah,” you quipped. “That’s kinda the point–it’s how they always get away with it.” 

“Well then, we might as well make the best of it and have fun.” Amelia took a swig of warm pink lemonade; it was the only thing available to chase with. 

“Okay, do you want to take the subway or walk? Walking is a little longer, but I’m not sure about the delays.” Libby sat next to you, pointing to where you were going. 

“The Upper East Side?” You zoomed in on her screen, sighing. “I guess it’s not, like, horrifically far, but how did you even get in contact with this guy?”

“Coffee shop in the financial district. Libby was on coffee break from her internship.”

“Yeah,” Libby interjected. “I mean, he was telling a lot of people about it. It was weird, but like, we don’t have anything else to do.”

“Yes, it is weird. Very American Psycho.” You pointed to the fastest route, settling on taking the subway to conserve your energy. 

“Like we said, we will see. No problem.” 

You arrived at the address around one, regretting that your sherpa lined coat wasn’t draped over your shoulders. You had only had to walk a couple minutes from the station, but it was one of those sharp, heavy colds that stung your nose and pricked your skin immediately upon contact. 

There was definitely a party; bassy house music seeped through the floor-to-ceiling windows, floating downwards to where you stood. Libby dialed someone on her phone; he was under the name Tall Party Dude. 

“Hey,” She said. It seemed he had answered quickly. “Me and my friends are outside. Do I need to buzz, or–”

You could hear through her phone the lively chatter around him. It quickly got shut out by the slam of a door, the padding of clicky footsteps down cement stairs. “Okay, yeah. I’ll just come let you up. Sorry ‘bout that.”  

Libby hung up. “See?” She shrugged, alluding to his meek demeanor. 

A lanky man opened the front door, sheathed in sweat and a look of pure discomfort. He smiled sheepishly at your group, ushering you into the building. The sound inside was pure, uncontaminated; it was obvious nobody else lived in the building, although there were obviously multiple units housed inside. 

“I’m Greg,” He waved, ducking down to climb up the stairs. “The elevators don’t really work right now. Not very accessible of a building, but–”

You all introduced yourselves, taking in the magnitude of the penthouse with a childish awe. The ceilings were massively high, causing the music to float and echo, bouncing off of clean, white walls. There was little furniture inside; it looked like it was barely lived in, a skeleton of a home, just for sleeping, and well, parties, you guessed. It reminded you so clearly of–

“Kendall!” Greg pushed through a small group of boys who looked to be about your age, a flock huddled around the kitchen counter. 

Holy fuck. You spun around, searching for refuge: a chair, a place to blend in, the easiest exit, a balcony, even. Amelia and Libby were already smoking a joint with two men who looked to be pushing thirty-five and forty. 

You could have left; the door was huge, inviting, and right in front of you. Calling to you. But you knew your friends would get worried and follow you, plus you didn’t want to ruin the night; Libby and Amelia had been over the moon when you finally agreed to coming along. Taking a deep breath, you told yourself–and the tequila-drunk devil on your shoulder–that you weren’t going to talk to him. No, you weren’t even going to look at him.

–

Greg ran a hand through his poorly-gelled hair. He didn’t think it was that poorly done, but Tom was getting fed up being Greg’s version of Mr. Miyagi for business etiquette, so he had promptly given up on the task of fixing Greg’s physical appearance. His dopey-awkward-young-man look would have to suffice, and God, that boy was lucky nepotism existed.

“Hey, Kendall,” Greg cooed, grabbing his wrist. He was after the little paper straw grasped between Kendall’s pointer finger and thumb. “Let’s just go easy tonight.”

Kendall shooed his hand away, pulling his wrist back. “Fuck you, it’s a party. I just fuckin’ gifted you this home. Let me live.” He flicked his baggie of coke, the fine white powder jumping to coat the sides. 

“Yes, you’re right. But, like, you’ve already done some tonight, and I just feel like there’s a lot of people you could talk to here. Like, women and stuff.” 

“Yeah, I know I’ve done some. Coke, I mean.” Kendall scoffed, cutting three lines with his credit card. It was heavy; the dark chrome shimmered under the dim, overhead lights of the apartment as he moved it languidly. “And now,” He sing-songed. “I will be doing some more!”

“Come on,” Greg attempted to take his sacred paraphernalia, but was quickly blocked by Kendall’s free hand, which slapped him away hurriedly, giving him just enough time to bend down and snort. It felt like a cat fight, like he was seven and being bullied by his much older, brooding brother. “You said you wanted–pussy,” Greg whispered. “I feel like this is a good time to go for that. And maybe to chill. With the drugs.” 

Kendall guffawed, using his thumb to wipe the fallen powder from around his flared nostril. “Greg,” He slapped a hand on his shoulder. “I think it would be a better idea if we got you some pussy. You are fuckin’ ridiculous.”

“I don’t know I’m not–”

“Not what?” Kendall leaned forward, taunting. His elbows rested on his knees, sleeves rolled up. His arms were warm; he could feel his heart pulsing through his wrists; it was fast, fluttering, and seemed to coincide with the bass of whatever clubby song was coursing through each chamber of the apartment. “Cousin Greg, do you have something to tell me?” He feigned shock. 

“No, I don’t, I just–”

“Greg, there are so many women here. Just, like, look around and–” Kendall gestured to the entirety of the apartment; it was organized like the sea. Schools of people weaved around each other, occupying the kitchen, the foyer, the living room where the two of them now sat, facing each other on pristine white love seats. New, expensive. Kendall’s eyes had scanned everywhere and everyone, and he had landed on who he thought was you, the pretty girl he somehow took home. The one who was profoundly clever, who sported coy smiles and outfits that wouldn’t work on anyone else. He knew it was you without even seeing your face; there was that same force he felt back in October, a hypnotic clarity, a tunnel-vision, leading to where you were leaning, back towards him, the light of your phone a halo, beckoning him to you. Kendall became stoic, determined. “Greg, see that girl in the corner?” He asked. 

Greg looked to the corner behind him. “What girl?”

Kendall pushed him to look the other way. “Obviously not the corner without a fucking girl in it.” 

“Okay, jeez. Yeah, I do see her.”

Kendall pushed one of his sleeves up. “Go over there. Get her to come over here.”

“Man, why can’t you?” Greg sighed, slouching.

“Because I’m fucking asking you to do it.” Kendall stared at him, unflinching. It was easy, with awkward silence and persistence, to make Greg do whatever he wanted. 

“Fuck, fine.” Greg scratched his head, leaning forward. His eyebrows were permanently furrowed, anxiety tattooed in his face. “What do you want me to say to her?”

Kendall didn’t know; there was a lot on his mind. He was hot but also fucking freezing. His nose tingled. His dad hated him, and so did the rest of his family. He wanted to know why you didn’t stay, and he wanted to know why he even cared. And, shallowly, he wanted to fuck you again, fast, slow–he didn’t fucking care. He wanted a lot; that was always the source of his suffering, and why it was so ubiquitous, an infection plaguing every facet of his life, the self-fulfilling prophecy that cycled round and round forever. 

He spoke up, realizing the silence had overstayed its welcome. “Um, not sure. You need to learn some fucking game. Just figure it out.”

“But–”

“I swear to God, Greg.”

“Fine.”

He strode over to you quickly; it took him half as many strides as the average person. Not knowing the right course of action, he tapped on your shoulder, making you jump. 

“Fuck, you scared me.” You turned your phone off, looking up at the tall stranger whose living room corner you were getting to know so well. 

“My bad,” He began. “I just–my friend over there–well, not my friend. My cousin. Slash boss, maybe? He wanted you to come over to him.”

Peering behind him, your expectations matched the man you were looking at. His legs were spread, arms behind his head, eyes closed. Sunken into the love seat, he should have looked at peace, comfortable, at least. Instead, he looked a little bit miserable. Kendall was an enigma; you knew almost everything about his personal life, from Rava, from your obsessive research after making the horrid connection back in October. But you still didn’t understand him. And you didn’t think anybody else did either. 

Locking eyes with the tall man–Greg–again, you crossed your arms. “Why can’t he ask me? Plus, I’m not interested.”

“He wants me to develop my skills. Communication skills.”

“Okay, that's pathetic, and not true.” 

“Why do you think that?” Greg scratched his neck, a telltale sign of his being uncomfortable. 

“I just know that’s not the reason. Call it a hunch.”

“Well,” Greg gestured. “What should I tell him?”

You peered past Greg’s willowy silhouette again. This time Kendall’s eyes were open, and they were stuck on you, large, unwavering. His pupils were heavily dilated; whether it was from lust or cocaine, you couldn’t be certain. Possibly both. Definitely both. 

“Tell him,” You began, eyes still on Kendall. “If he wants to talk, he’ll have to come to me himself.”

You knew he had sent Greg over as a buffer; you had practically made a beeline to the street from his penthouse that night. It was abrupt, and you never gave him an explanation. But telling him you were his childrens’ babysitter while he was strung out and you drunk–well, that wasn’t an option. 

Greg had already gone back to Kendall. You could see them bickering; Kendall’s eyebrows were woven together, eyes firm on his target: you. Pulling at the top few buttons of his pressed white shirt, Kendall stood up, coming your way. 

You had obviously seen him striding towards you, confident from three vodka sodas and sporting that signature look of his— a semi pout paired with his sad, furrowed brows–but you were still surprised when stopped right in front of you, looking confused. As if you owed him a curtsy and a blowjob right then and there. 

“Y/N,” He began. It was obvious he didn’t know where he was going with this; rich men are always taken aback when they don’t immediately get their way, and Kendall was no different. He sort of expected you to be the obedient girl you had been in his penthouse that night, wrapped around his fingers, malleable, awaiting any and every command he gave you.

“Yes?” You encouraged. 

Kendall backed you against the wall, his palm flush against the wall as he literally cornered you. “I’m just confused, is all.”

“Did I do something confusing? I thought I was clear when I left your place.”

“Clear about what?” He questioned. “It was clear you became uncomfortable and then booked it out of there.”

You pretended to think. “So, your response to that is to literally back me into a wall at a party, where you’re clearly strung out on something?”

Kendall opted to stand next to you, peeling his hand off the exposed brick. “Yeah, point taken.” He agreed. “But, I don’t know.” 

“We can’t see each other.” You said. “Is what I was trying to be clear about.”

“Okayyyy–” He bit his lip, tilting his head back to look at the tall ceilings, tinged purple from whatever shitty party lights Greg had bought for the occasion. “But it’s interesting that we ran into each other again.”

You shrugged. “Maybe to you.”

“It is interesting to me.” His pointer finger dragged across your jaw, softly tilting your head to look his way. His eyes were gigantic, behind his pupils were pretty brown irises, tinged in green; the lights in the apartment had changed. “It’s also interesting that you’re still here. If you can’t see me so bad.”

You shrugged, looking down at the floor, your scuffed sneakers. 

“Why can’t you see me? Why is that exactly?”

“Why do you want to?”

“I don’t know, actually.” He admitted. “I asked myself the same thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled his collar, bringing him closer. “I think it’s just the drugs and the alcohol and the coincidence that I’m here right now that’s making you feel this way. But trust me, when I leave here tonight, you’ll never see me again.”

That, of course, was extremely unlikely to be true. In fact, you didn’t know why you had said it at all. Each new day you spent babysitting for Rava was a new chance for Kendall to come by to her mossy brownstone, begging for forgiveness, an unnumbered new chance. 

“Hm,” He placed his palm on the small of your back, pulling you against him. You could feel his heartbeat against you. “I guess we will just have to see.”

His thumb brushed across your bottom lip, beckoning you to look up at him. He wasn’t holding you tight, and with the movement of the party, the two of you had migrated even closer to the door. To freedom. To the chance to do the right thing. 

The devil on your shoulder won, after all, because when Kendall pushed his tongue into your mouth, you moaned with a sense of relief, as if you had been in desperate anticipation of him forever. A part of you, when he grabbed your face to pull you even closer, realized you had been, in a way.

[bahamutgames]

Super Afterthoughts Wonder

Game: Super Mario Wonder (October 20, 2023)

Console: Nintendo Switch

Only 2 days until the most important game of all time comes out. And I only have 2 big games I haven't written any thoughts about yet... Hmmm... could I pull it off and have a clean video-game related plate come this Friday? Maybe! Probably not though.

Regardless, now that Mario Wonder has sat for a little bit and we're past the honeymoon phase, I've been wanting to talk about it for a bit. So why not? Let's go ahead and spill the beans (petals?) about this new Mario adventure!

As always, this isn't a review. So please don't read it as such. This is just me throwing up my thoughts because I can't stop talking so damn much about video games. Seriously, I think it's a condition. So please don't use ANY of my afterthoughts as a guide on if you should buy the game or not.

SPOILERS FOR SUPER MARIO WONDER BELOW! YOU MIGHT NOT THINK THERE'S MUCH TO SPOIL, BUT IF YOU'D RATHER NOT SEE, DON'T READ!

Opening

So as some of you may be aware, I'm a little into Mario. For various reasons I've fallen out of love with the series, but for most of my life it truly was my favorite franchise of all time. So, while I'm not as enthusiastic about the series nowadays, I still keep close tabs on it and will check out whatever catches my eye (usually the main series games and the RPGs though those has been kinda out of a sense of obligation lately lol)

However, Wonder looked like another winner. And at first I was probably gonna pass it by cause I'm exceptionally broke atm. But my awful Mario brain got the better of me, so I caved and picked up Wonder! And now we're here, $60 poorer than before!

Stuff I liked

But anyway, I like the main series Mario games, pretty much all of them. And while I PREFER the 3D ones, I also love the 2D ones and have a soft spot for them (Super Mario World was my first game ever afterall) and as such, I actually enjoy the NSMB games, yes especially U (my least favorite is 2). And this game really looked like what I wanted from the next entry of the series. Continuing what New did right, while finally taking the chance to spread its wings and actually embrace a new direction with unique enemies rather than kinda just doing what had come before, regardless of how solid that was.

And, yes! I'm happy to say Wonder delivers on that amazingly! Everything is such a massive step up from NSMB. Massively improved art, creative new enemies and gimmicks being the focus rather than a fun bonus (if that makes sense lol), brand new sounding music, and something a little more story focused. But, it doesn't lose what made NSMB great, it still feels like the next step rather than abandoning what came before. You can notice this especially with stuff like Nabbit, Ala-Gold+Bucken Berry, and a focus on multiplayer.

So where to begin? The game looks GREAT, I love the forced perspective thing it has going on, the whole thing is GORGEOUS. The music is fun and energetic. The new enemies are delightful and fun (my favorite is probably the firework Bob-omb but there were a lot of greats like the slimes, baby thwomps, and sea cucumbers). I really loved that this game had a big focus on story too. I was surprised to see it actually have dialogue, a lot more than you would expect. There's set up and context to almost every world with some fun explanations on what's happening in each world. And it really helps add in a small way to making the world feel alive.

This game also FEELS great to play. This is almost a guarantee with Mario but they knocked it out of the park with this one. It's been a bit since I've played NSMB but this just feels so smooth and nice to play. Everything flows together nicely, the levels are fun and charming, I LOVE that there's tons of characters to pick (I played the whole game as Peach and I was SO happy to see Daisy be there finally.), and I really enjoyed the powerups. Drill was super fun but I actually think Bubble turned out to be the star of the show. It sounds like a kinda stupid or not particularly useful ability but MAN you get some mileage out of it and it's so fun to use imo. And I also really liked the badges! A lot of stuff in this actually felt a bit like it was inspired by Mario RPGs, and while this may be a coincidence, the badges feeling like something from the RPGs was certainly a great bonus. They're all extremely fun but I got SO much out of the parachute cap, and I basically used it the whole game with very few exceptions.

And of course, the main draw of the game: Wonder Seeds! Usually when I see something like this, it almost always immediately registers in my head as "stupid gimmick shoehorned in to put something on the back of the box" and that's what I thought about these at first. And while that might be what they are, they're actually FANTASTIC! Almost every level has a totally unique Wonder Seed effect to itself with very few repeats. And they're all a ton of fun, you genuinely don't know what'll happen next and it kept the game very fresh and fun the whole way through! My favorite was the slime one (for Slime Peach) but I also loved the top-down camera one. The whole game had lots of fun stuff like this, and even fun side levels I wasn't expecting to see such as Break-Times where you do a more relaxed challenge, or Treasure Hunts where you find coins hidden in a level. These sound boring but were actually a blast!

Which leads me into my final big positive and maybe my favorite part of the game. The multiplayer, no sadly I didn't get to play a lot of the game with local co-op. I'm talking about that online multiplayer. Specifically the ghost thing. When I saw this in the trailers I thought it would be a feature I only use once or twice then turn off the whole game. No. I LOVED this mode and had it on the WHOLE game! I'm not exaggerating when I say this added something so magical to the game that I really had never considered before. Having this multiplayer mode where you can't interfere with anyone, but you can still work together from afar was SO fun. Sometimes I'd meet people and we played the level together, or I'd find standees that hinted about secrets (huge for treasure hunt levels), or you'd just see someone and goof around with them a bit before being on your way. Regardless, it was a BLAST every time I got to be around others in this game. My favorite situations are when me and another player would go through a whole level, particularly through tough sections, and constantly revive each other to get to the end. It may seem small, but it genuinely made an already fun game SO much more fun of an experience and I genuinely hope we get to see this more going forward. Imagine a game like Bowser's Fury but sometimes you'll just randomly run into another player like Journey or something. And then you both fuck around for a bit, exchange items, and go about your way. Again, it sounds small but I think it was easily my favorite part of the game!

Stuff I didn't like

So, naturally, as is the case with all games. I don't think Mario Wonder is perfect. There's a few issues I have with it. First and foremost: It's kinda short? Like, I'm pretty sure it's shorter than NSMBU. But I can look past that because, hey, quality over quantity right? Other small issues include the Elephant power, while cute, and allowing for some fun water carrying stuff... Is kinda boring honestly. You get a surprising amount of mileage out of a short melee attack, but overall I think Bubble and Drill totally steal the show from it, considering it's the main power-up of the game.

Secondly, considering this game is REALLY themed around music. I kinda feel like they don't make enough of an effort to make the game... super music themed? Like, obviously it IS. But I feel like it could be MORE musically. I genuinely didn't really even notice the music theme until I reached the final battle. And while the game does have some FANTASTIC music levels that genuinely got a big rise out of me when I encountered the first one. I kinda feel like they're not that exciting, at least in terms of the music cause the visuals for all of them are great. But like, Piranha Plant Parade is SO good and is so loud and in your face. But I genuinely do not remember the music in a SINGLE other musical level, which is a disappointment. There was a King Boo Opera and a Halloween Rave. I should remember those, right??

Lastly, and I think most importantly. The biggest issue I had with Mario Wonder, and what is certainly the biggest disappointment of the game for me: The Boss Battles. There's certainly a good amount of them. About 5 I think, with a few mini bosses if you REALLY wanna stretch the definition of Mini Bosses. 4 of those fights are Bowser Jr. and then the final boss. And while they're fine battles. The desert fight and the final boss being particular highlights... That's... just such a let down? Mario games have been pretty good with their boss variety lately. 3D World had LOTS of fun guys, Odyssey had some of my favorite fights in a while, Bowser's Fury had a FANTASTIC boss that lasted the whole game, even NSMB when it recycled the koopalings, did do new fights with them every time and sometimes included new stuff like a Kamek boss or a giant Sumo Bro. But this? Just 4 bosses that are all kinda the same? It's sorta insane to me. 2 worlds don't even have fights! I was actually so utterly confused by this, it genuinely felt like I did something wrong and wasn't getting the real ending to the world. It's super weird and while it doesn't ruin the game, I look forward to those boss fights a lot so it certainly was a let down.

Final Thoughts

Mario Wonder is a FANTASTIC game that, once again, like Bowser's Fury, makes me VERY excited and hopeful for the future of 2D Mario games. I don't think it's perfect, and I might still have a bigger soft spot for some earlier 2D Mario's, but this game is absolutely at the top of the list and is a FANTASTIC entry to the series. I have TONS of confidence in the next 2D Mario if more of this is what we can expect in the future. Just... Please consider making some boss fights for next time? Please?

===

Thanks for reading! This one might be a little disorganized. But I figured I got time while I wait for work DMs. So why not churn out another afterthoughts, right? You love reading me talk about games in a super chaotic and disorganized fashion, right? RIGHT!?

Well, regardless, I love writing them cause I love talking about games. I heard it might be a condition. But don't quote me on that.

Things are looking up for Mario it seems. I'm interested to get my hands on some of the new stuff coming out for the series soon. I'll keep you posted on if I try any of it out, of course. We'll see how it goes!

That's all I have for now, go out and play damn good platformer!

[kristiansenoneil7]

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[hqcult]

EYELINER ## suna rintarou

trying to apply his eyeliner would've been easy if only rintarou can keep his hands to himself.

. tw smut, dom suna, established relationship, fingering, oral f receiving, edging, dirty talk, slight exhibitionism, mind break, unprotected sex, pwp . wc 4k

"ugh, he's gonna do it again." you mutter, eyeing suna's hand as it skims around your vanity desk for his favorite brand of eyeliner. for some reason everybody naturally finds themself drawn to suna rintarou, even if he was always so stoic and detached. 

you hate how girls would flock around him in parties as they stare at his kohl-lined eyes or at the painted black nail polish whenever you disappear to get a drink, knowing full well what kind of thoughts are running in their heads because you, for sure, thought of him the same way. alright. we get it. your boyfriend can be a hot mofo if he wants to be and his idgaf attitude just adds to the whole appeal.

we get it.

because you love him more than the stars in the galaxy combined, sometimes you can't help but feel jealous when people get too close to him. you really didn't want to be that type of girlfriend but sometimes you just like the assurance that he's all yours and nothing's wrong about that, right? plus, suna seems to exceptionally love when he gets you jealous and feral. he may always pretend otherwise but he loves staking his claim on you just as much as you liked being claimed by him. 

"are you done yet?" you say, staring at him from your bedroom door frame. 

atsumu was throwing a party tonight and you were all dressed up and ready to go, just patiently waiting for your boyfriend. 

suna replies a beat later, not bothering to meet your eyes. "just a minute."

you just want his attention all on you. you don't even want to go to this stupid party and see all these people shamelessly flirting with him even if you were right there by his side. you just want to have some alone time with suna rintarou. 

and you may or may not have just come up with an idea to make that happen.

"where's the eyeliner? the one i always use?"

"it's not there? i know i left it there. wait, let me look." 

you straighten up, walking towards him in your red leather mini skirt that can make any man's eyes sliver down to your ass. 

suna is sitting on your swivel chair, leaning back in a man spread as he clicks his tongue impatiently. he looks good even in a plain shirt and a pair of ripped jeans, his athletic and tall build enough to make any outfit look good.

"are you sure it's not in the drawers?"

"yes, i already checked."

you pout, making a show of muttering "i swore i threw it in here," under your breath as you maneuver around his spread legs to stand in between them, bending forward as you rummage around where he's already looked twice. 

you know he's staring at your ass. suna was never lowkey with how much he loves you in this leather mini-skirt. it's a miracle he hasn't landed a rough spank yet after getting a face full view of your ass. 

"wait a minute, maybe it rolled under my vanity."

so you get down on your knees, making sure your butt grazes the front of his jeans and just like you predicted, suna was half-hard already. 

it was truly such a stroke to your ego but you focus on the task at hand. 

you arched your ass up as you bend down to look for the little tube of eyeliner, slightly shaking it side to side as you "struggle" to get the eyeliner out from underneath the table. 

when your hands feel the cylindrical plastic, you retreat, sitting up straight again and proudly showing your boyfriend the eyeliner in your hands. 

you made sure your eyes were as huge and innocent as they look, kneeling in between his legs, shins tucked in and hands in your lap like a good girl. 

"i found it!"

you could've sworn you've seen his left eye twitch as he stared you down. you've been with him long enough to notice that look in his eyes. what are you playing at, huh?

you wait for him to speak but you can see all the gears turning in his head as he continues to stare at you. 

you wait anxiously for what he's going to do next. maybe he'll make you suck him off, or he'll throw you on the bed, or spank your ass because you were clearly teasing him—

"why don't you put my eyeliner on for me?"

you stand up, opening the tube in as he shuts his eyes. you try not to let your disappointment show too much. fine. maybe you can just have a quickie later while drunk in one of the rooms in the frat house. 

"why are you standing? come sit on my lap while you're doing it."

you were too busy removing the excess product off the brush to notice his eyes had taken a dark turn, contradicting the gentleness of his warm hands as it snakes around the back of your bare thighs pulling you closer. 

"no, i'll mess this—"

"i said sit."

delicious shivers create goosebumps on your skin. 

you know that tone. he only uses it when he's horny and he wants to bend you over. so maybe your game plan did work after all, yet you're staring at him dumbfounded with the eyeliner brush in midair. 

"come sit. i won't repeat myself." he leans back against the chair, manspreading as he waits for you. 

you scramble to straddle his strong thighs, muscles a manifestation of his hard work and dedication to volleyball. it was great to see him in action on the court but you'd rather he flexed those muscles when you ride his thighs. 

you cup his face, getting all up in his personal space to apply the eyeliner. 

you've long grown out of the honeymoon phase but why is your heart beating so damn fast right now?

your hands were shaking, perspiration was building up in your forehead, and you were holding your breath.

"are you nervous?"

"shut up, rin. 'm not."

when the brush first touches the lid of his eyes, a nimble finger traces the expanse of your whole slit over your panties. 

you pull the brush away, hissing in surprise. 

"rintarou—!"

"what?"

his sharp tone isn't what shut you up, it was the hand cupping your sex. the heel of his wrist slowly grazing against your sensitive clit. you drew a sharp breath. he smirks. 

"go on. continue, doll."

you want to hate the teasing lilt in his voice but you know deep down you love it.

you held your breath, diving in once again to the task at hand whilst trying to ready yourself from his ministrations. 

your hand slightly shakes as you start in the middle of his waterline, slowly tracing the bottom part of his eyes before making a small wing at the end. 

you've seen him apply his own eyeliner so much you have this down to an art form. everything would've been easy if only he kept his hands to himself. you try to ignore the digit still feathering over your slit or the hand wrapping around you to bunch your skirt up around the waist. 

for someone whose eyes are closed he's doing a damn good job navigating. but maybe that's how he shows you're his. he knows your body like the back of his hand, he knows what makes you tick, what makes you pant, what makes you moan in ecstasy. 

"i can never resist when you dress up all pretty for me. you know that, right, doll?"

applying the eyeliner to his waterline had been fairly easy. the lash line, on the other hand, proved difficult. especially when suna's upgraded from tracing your pussy lips to dangerously toying with the elastics of your panties, slipping his finger under before stretching it to slap your skin. 

as you try to connect the upper part of the eyeliner to the small wing you made from his waterline, you hissed. 

"why don’t you pull them down?"

he chuckles at your impatience and you slightly pull the brush away as he finally shoves the fabric down. you gasp when the cold hits your wet cunt. the scent of your essence unmistakable and you know suna's holding back from teasing. 

"as you wish, baby."

as suna grows bolder, the more your hands shook as you worked on his other eye. 

just as the tip of the brush touched his left eye's waterline, he pushed two fingers inside of you, dragging them against your walls in a lazy manner that was so distinctly him. he curls his fingers when he fucks it in before dragging them against your walls when he pulls it out, slightly scissoring you. he uses his other hand to draw figure 8’s against your clit. 

you swallow, trying your best to keep your hand still as a surgeon but you see the jagged little curves where your jolts of pleasure were too strong. 

you never should've provoked him to shove your underthings down, at least then you wouldn't have to suffer through his fingers. they were just so long, so thick, and so experienced when it comes to pleasuring you that you can never touch yourself anymore without craving suna's own fingers instead. 

you bit your lip, the hand that was cupping his jaw tightening as you try to fix the little mistakes here and there, hoping suna won't see them when he inspects your work in the mirror. it doesn't matter that he purposely set you up to fail. there'll be consequences if he isn't satisfied with what you did. may god have mercy on your horny little soul if rintarou thinks you were a bad girl. 

"you just hate losing, don't you?" you hiss, jolting when you feel him slap your cunt. your knees nearly buckled and you almost fell off the chair if not for his sturdy hand on the small of your back. 

"what are you talking about? i'm just fingering my girl like a winner."

just as you started outlining his left lash line, suna shoves a 3rd finger into your sopping cunt. loud squelching noises fill the room as your walls pulsate around his thick digits. the metal rings he wore brushing against your pussy lips as he fucks you knuckle-deep with three fingers. involuntarily, your own hips started moving to match his pace, shamelessly thrusting up everytime he shoves his fingers in.

he knows you so well. he doesn't even need to look at your face, he can feel you out by the noises you make. so good. so good. his fingers feel so good. fuck. fuck. fuck.

until he pulls them out of your sopping pussy. 

"rin," you whine, folding into his shoulder as you struggle to balance your kneeling self on the chair. you blindly reach down for his hand, urging him to put his fingers back in. "rin, please don't stop. please please please—”

"i told you to put my eyeliner, not fuck yourself on my fingers," he leans back on the chair, eyes still shut close while licking his digits clean. 

your lips press into a thin line, eyes dilated as a whine starts to threaten to pass your lips. you're sick of whatever game this is, you just want him to fuck you silly already! but as if sensing your thoughts, suna clicks his tongue and speaks. "hurry it up. we have a party to get to."

without his fingers to plug your cunny, your slick runs down the insides of your thighs. it's slow descent against your skin making goosebumps run up your arms, shivering as the cold hits your bare cunt. 

suna must've known your anguish, he could feel his jeans getting soaked but he didn't care and you wish to punch that smug smirk off his pretty face. 

your fingers stilled when you cupped his cheeks and leaned in to start applying a thin stroke of eyeliner to his water line. with a simple flick of the wrist you ended it with a little wing, just like how your boyfriend likes it. now, you just have to do his lash line and—

you let out an audible gasp when his fingers started feeling around your thighs, having an inkling idea of what he's tryna look for. true to what you expected, he traces the line of your dripping slick up your inner thighs until his fingers graze your nether lips, successfully collecting your essence. 

you stare entranced when suna brings them up to his lips, eyebrows furrowed and almost moaning aloud because of your taste. the fact that his eyes are closed made you want him even more. his fingers pop out of his mouth, but you get the feeling it wasn't enough. he wants more. suna wants you under his mercy. he wants to taste and ruin you until you're fucked out and lying in a pretty mess on the bed sheets. 

"so fucking sweet, my baby. you're this desperate for me? for my fingers?"

you snapped. you threw the makeup elsewhere in the room (though not before screwing it shut) before diving down to kiss him on the lips. all lust-filled and rough as you both channel the desires you have for each other. maybe suna was at his tipping point too, noting that he doesn't even bother to push you away. 

with his strong arms he picks you up and you wrap your legs around his torso, never breaking the kiss before literally throwing you down on the bed, knocking the air out your lungs. 

"rin!"

"whoops."

he's kneeling before the bed, the sheets ruffling when he pulls you to the edge by your calves, hot breath against your sex making you squirm. 

"my pretty thing," the kitten lick against your pussy drove you crazy, desperately bucking your hips up and suna chuckles condescendingly. "but such a bad fuckin' girl, aren't ya?"

you yelp when he slaps the side of your thigh. 

"who said you could kiss me?"

he pinches your clit hard as he enters your line of sight. suna has never seen you this pretty and desperate for him before. sweat making your skin glow, lips raw from your biting, eyes conveying your every lust-filled thought about him. the sight of you so riled up makes his dick ache and he wants so badly to fuck you already but bad girls don't get what they want just yet. you have to earn it. 

"i asked you a question. who the fuck told you that you could fucking kiss me?" the acid in his voice contrasts the gentle way he caresses the spot on your thigh where he had hit you. 

"no one."

you sob in pleasure when his hot tongue licks a stripe up your pussy before suckling on your clit. once. twice. sucking particularly hard on the third. before running his tongue swiftly over the bundle of nerves and kitten licking his way down your pussy lips. your thighs were shaking so hard he had to pin them down. he knows it's a sign that you're close, not that he's surprised, he's been stimulating your body for minutes now it was amazing you haven't cummed yet. 

but then he stops.

a thread of your slick dribbling down his chin as those cat eyes of his stare you down. he watches, enchanted by how your chest rises and falls. another sweet release he snatched away from you.

"i thought so. what does that make you?"

amazing how he manages to sound so normal, conversational even while he's literally edging you like there's no tomorrow. what do you expect? it's his favorite punishment. he gets to see you sob and beg for him like there's nothing in your mind but his cock and he loves it so much. loves seeing you bend and break for him to please. 

you sniffle, arm coming up to hide the frustrated tears in your eyes. "been… been a bad girl."

a hand slaps your thighs, brutal. eyes on rintarou when answering his questions. your eyes shoot up. 

"and who's bad girl have you been?"

"yours."

this time he reaches forward to tweak your pebbled nipples. the sudden cold of the pads of his fingers making you gasp and spasm. your boyfriend straddles you and you shiver at the head of his glistening cock leaving trails on top of your thighs. but he doesn't make another move. when you sneakily try wiggling your hips for your sex to graze his dick, he slapped your thigh without holding back. you doubt it won't start leaving a handprint. you wait with bated breath when he grabs hold of his cock, the head angry and dripping, the only proof of his also growing desire for you. 

when he directs the head for it to graze your nether lips, you almost cried another fresh batch of tears. his hand quickly brushes up to wipe it away, though not before feeling his dick twitch. you know how much he loves seeing you cry from the overwhelming pleasure he can give you. 

"last time i checked, my name isn't yours. didn't i tell you to answer in full sentences when i'm fucki—"

"suna! suna rintarou! i've been sun-suna rintarou's bad girl!"

suna ducks to mark your neck and torso. he feels the goosebumps forming on your body. the heat enveloping the two of you as you both quickly shed any remaining pieces of clothing. he kisses you. sloppy. nothing but teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance as he cradles your face with his big hands, feeling the mushroom head of his cock grazing your thighs.

usually he'd appreciate you not cutting him off mid-sentence but he too has reached his own limits and right now all he can think about is drilling you to the mattress. "rin, please!" you sob, arms wrapping around his neck as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck.

"shh. yes, doll. i hear ya." 

you were dripping wet enough that all it took is one deep thrust for him to bottom-out. usually you're quite hesitant when rintarou's rawing you but at this point right now, you doubt fucking with a condom would've felt this good. no thin plastic whatsoever that's separating you from him. when he starts to move, you both moan in ecstasy. the bed creaking under the weight of you both as he pistons his dick inside. "you feel so good, doll. so fucking wet and tight. look how wet you are. dripping for my cock, huh? this all for me? answer me!"

you hardly register his voice, the pleasure you've been craving since minutes ago now being crashed down upon you. it's overwhelming and you don't want it any other way. 

"yes," you pant. the tears still leaking from your eyes as you claw at his biceps. "yes. all-all for you, r-rin! just for you!"

he stubbornly keeps hitting the spot that'll make you keen and whine, suna forcing your hips down and sitting up with his palms at the sides of your head. he wants to see you come undone, he'd love to grab his phone and make this memory permanent but he doubts his camera can capture the real deal. your moans and pleas reaching his ears, spurring him on, the beautiful way your back arches of the mattress, the way you physically shook in pleasure and you screamed and worshipped his name.

"rin! oh my god, rin! fuck. 'm close," your voice breaks, hiccuping from the onslaught of tears you can't hold back as blinding pleasure grips you in a tight vice.

suna comes down to snake his arms around you, pulling you infinitely closer as one of his hands supports your lower back, manually moving your hips to match his frantic thrusts. "why you crying? bad girls should be tough, right? aren't—shit—aren't you a bad girl? hmm? bad girls like you shouldn't be crying."

you shake your head, looking pretty and desperate as you meet his eyes. "no, i'm not a bad—"

"yes. you are," you groan, his thrusts particularly hard to shut you up and make a point. "you're a very, very bad girl. you don't listen to me at all. bad girls don't even deserve to cum."

"no! no! rin, please!" you say, a blubbering mess as you bury your forehead into his neck, licking and suckling at his skin to get in his good side. "i'll be good. i promise! please, let me cum. rin! please, i'll be good. i'll be good! only your good—ah."

"you fucking bet you're my good girl," he hissed, biting your shoulder before moaning, pitched and wanton as it threatens to snap the stretched cord inside of you. but not yet. you can't. not unless he says so. "it's me that's making you feel this good. this is my pussy. my plaything. repeat what i said—doll! repeat what i said."

you cried, screaming in frustration as his cock stills inside of you and you know he won't move until you oblige. "this is…" you hiccup. "rin-rintarou's pu-pussy. i'm rintarou's play-plaything."

"what was that?" he asks, hips starting to rut against you again in full force. the headboard violently hitting the walls. when your hands scramble to cling onto something, you accidentally shove something off the bed but you couldn't care less. "louder, doll. i want the whole fucking neighborhood to hear you."

"this is rintarou's pussy. i'm rintarou's plaything." you say in your normal speaking voice, albeit shaky and almost incomprehensible as he holds you firm against him, his cock embedding it's shape and size into your sopping walls.

"louder!"

he hoists you up into a sitting position, his hips fucking up towards you and you only realize he did it when you see the window situated meters behind you two. curtains-drawn, open for the night breeze to billow in. he wasn't kidding. suna rintarou wants the neighbors to hear how good you're getting rawed. he wasn't kidding. he was not kidding.

"go on," he whispers, breathy and teasing. "you'll do it. you're a good girl for me arentcha?"

fuck. "this is rintarou's pussy! i'm rintarou's plaything!"

he licks a stripe up your neck, hands coming around your neck as he whispers into your ear the words you've been dying to hear. "cum, baby."

and your orgasm surges through your whole body in violent jolts, thick ropes of cum squirting out your pussy as you distantly hear him groaning, your walls tightening and sucking him in with every aggressive thrust. rintarou quickly finishes after you, teeth embedding themselves into your shoulder as he groans. you knew bruises will form and you're going to be sore as a bitch but you don't fucking care.

"rin, i love you." you say, grabbing a hold of his face as you stare deep into his eyes. and you don't understand why there's doubt clouding in your head when he takes a beat later to answer, when really, he just can't help the sudden wave of emotions festering in his stomach as he meets the gravity of your gaze. the love and devotion in your eyes as he can only hope that he could translate his emotions through his eyes, too.

he smiles, leaning in to give you a kiss. it's sweet and gentle, completely unlike the one he gave you a few minutes ago when in the throes of pleasure. no. you feel every bit of his love for you in this one kiss and you don't know why you ever doubted yourself, doubted him. you've been together for so long and you're it for him. 

"i love you, too."

but leave it to your darling rintarou to ruin the moment.

"but you'll never apply my eyeliner ever again."

. a/n » this was so self-indulgent im sorry lmao

[feysandfeels]

hi hello i’m here to kindly request that prythian met gala tier ranking pls……🥺👉👈

Hello beautiful little fae, thank you for your indulging ask

The categories are as follow:

Rihanna ft. Billie Poter: My people who understand the assignment and go the extra mile. They are here for the craftmanship of fashion and the intricacy of interpretation themes offer.

Timothée Chalamet: They are the exceptionally well dressed folk who are here for the subdued detail and the texture. They demand a keen eye from their audience but they always deliver something interesting.

Gigi Hadid: It's there, it's on theme, it is no doubt gorgeous but like. Could it be more? yes.

That riverdale girl, the brunette one: she went for the obvious choice and *sssssiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh* yes you read susan sontag notes on camp and clearly called it a day.

The models: People who look good and somewhat get the theme. If they had to choose between looking good or being extra and on theme, they will choose to look good.

The Biebers: This is self explanatory... just look how they came to this year’s met gala. A boring disgrace. Why they continue to be invited is beyond me.

Now, onto business. Who is where?

Rihannas:

Helion: duh

Tarquin: He will show up and eat you all always on theme, always sexy, always fashionable.

Feysand: Rhysand is nothing if not extra and will love any opportunity to dress not only immaculately but will use his power to make everything more impactful. Feyre as seen in MAF and WAR will dress up for any occasion and take it seriously. Plus Rhysand has been going on and on about this so like the things we do for love.

Mor: are we surprised? do I need to explain it further? no? okay moving on. Think Blake Lively. A MET Ball darling. Helion lets her arrive in a golden chariot.

Timothée Chalamet:

Lucien Vanserra: Lucien owns this category. He is a man of details that demands intelligence of his audience, he's not going to spoon feed you why he is on theme.

Emerie: here is the thing on her day to day she is comfy but on this red carpet? with Mor going on and on and on about how cool and important the event it? Emerie is Zendaya.

Gwyn: A girl is a competitive bitch and she will get on that best dressed list or so help her god. She is also a huge nerd so she will research her themes and come up with really cool references. Again don't be dumb, connect the dots, do your research.

Azriel: I've always said that Az knows how to clean up nice and is a man of details one of the many reasons he and Lucien should be friends but whatever I guess. He will get the assignment and also be like omg weird but cool. Think Chadwick Boseman in Heavenly bodies.

Thesan: please as he would come up shabby, have you seen palace? man of detail and something unexpected.

Gigi Hadid:

Elain Archeron: a girl knows textures, patterns, materials, composition, elegant well dressed, always a flower motif that is actually an obscure reference to the theme.

Vivienne: Slowly but surely Vivienne is going up the ranks. It's actually wonderful how much she plays with the themes while always staying on brand with the Winter Court. A girl of nuance.

Eris: Babes I see you, but I'm going to need more than your promise of being good for it to impactful. Don't be afraid to be a little extra an not just pretty, play outside the role society has given you. Be more.

Lady of Autumn: Exquisite. The way this woman plays with headpieces is out of this world. Also she will do capes and layers and be mesmerizing. But I'm going to need a bit more from the dress itself.

Cassian: Years of going with Mor to this even will definitely leave him always wanting to play with the theme. But above all we must thank that. Whatever he wears will hug his ass deliciously and is more about subverting the tropes that have been associated with him. Once we showed up with well fitted trousers and a long flowing cape. 

That riverdale girl:

Kallias: Boo I need more of you, I see the potential but step up your bread and don't be scared to go the extra mile.

Cresseida: Promises to show up better next year after seeing how Tarquin ate them all up. Like Kaia Gerber this year... I see you looking good, but you come from a family of fashion so like c'mon girl.

Myriam and Drakon: I mean yes thank you for coming but you honestly did the bare minimum.

The models:

Nesta Archeron: Does she look breathtaking? yes. Is the dress immaculate in craftmanship? fuck yeah. Does it fit her like a glove? no doubt. Is it on theme? no and she doesn't care because she wanted to wear this dress and who are you to tell her she's not going to.

Amren: A vision, an off theme slightly scary vision, but a vision. Clearly it's more about the statement jewellery with her. Her ring alone costs more than the entire evening and well what more could you ask? Will make an effort to be on theme if it matches the amazing necklace she plans to wear, but if not well... she is wearing a diamond piece that was said to part of the ancient king of this lost kingdom collection so like respect.

Varian: He has to match Amren because otherwise it will look odd in the pictures.

The Biebers:

Tamlin: a black tux? for the met? groundbreaking. Only gets invited because they need good flower arrangements and well, spring's flowers are immaculate so like it would have been rude to ask for the flowers and not invite him.

[genesisrose74]

Christmas With the Karasuno Boys (HC’s)!!

Part 2: Kageyama, Hinata, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Kinoshita, & Narita

Part 1 (Daichi, Suga, Asahi, Nishinoya, Tanaka, & Ennoshita) here!

A/n: Tumblr said my word count was too much so I’m splitting this bad boi up into two parts :p Enjoy!!

*****

Kageyama

This boy has a secret soft side for Christmas istg

He HATES showing it to other people on his team and shit

But holy bejeezus he is mesmerized by the holiday in every way possible

Lights, sweets, snow, just like,,, the general magic of December is the most awe-inspiring thing to him

Since he is still a sporty and pretty active mofo, you decided to fuel that on your holiday-themed date as Kags had noted that he’d never gone sledding before

Your jaw was on the FLOOR when he first told you because he would 10000% enjoy the hell out of it

And so you dragged him out to this popular sledding hill that you frequented as a child and taught him what to do

Not gonna lie, he was kind of nervous

“Well you’re experienced at it. I don’t wanna mess up”

🥺🥺🥺 bubby

“You won’t, Tobio! I can already tell you’re gonna be a sledding pro”

Feels a little better after that, but he asks you to help him out for his first run down the hill

He sits behind you with his arms secured snugly around your waist and his head nestled on top of your shoulder

Which would probably seem really funny to passerby because this boy is tol and intimidating in most other situations

As soon as the sled started down, Kags tightened his grip and made this cute little yelp of surprise

But you were laughing insanely hard at the combination of going really fast downhill whilst also having your boyfriend cling to you for dear life

And then when the sled stopped safely at the bottom he started to chuckle

FULL ON, GENUINE SOUND OF ENJOYMENT

That shit is rare

Y’all stayed at that hill for half the day because it was so fun

You got him a new, very high quality athletic roller for Christmas because his old one was just not cutting it anymore

And you also gave him this really cute bracelet with a volleyball, his jersey number, and a little strawberry milk set of charms attached to it

It matched this really pretty and subtle chain he’d bought for your birthday

His blueberry eyes got all wide with affection dfjdskfjsdk—

Got super blushy and couldn’t get a handle on his speech for a fat minute

He thinks you’re the coolest person ever no I do not take criticism

Geez you’re both adorable together, ideal “stoic boy becomes warmer during the holidays around his love” movie plot and I love it

Hinata

He is all in on Christmas. Not a chance this boy doesn’t get excited as hell

Will openly go into holiday mode as soon as November is over

Was secretly already listening to his Christmas playlist before then

He is one of the sweetest gift givers, that is FACTUAL

If you want something really badly, he will take notice and get it as your present immediately

He’ll also gift you an extra thing that’s handmade 🥺

Like some pastries that his mom helped him make, or a specially made basket of soaps with your favorite scents in it

It’s absolutely adorable and you cherish those ones especially

Is happy if you simply get him something; mans doesn’t care what it is

New practice volleyball? A brand new sweatshirt? Elated either way

You had seen an advertisement for a friendly match between Japan and Poland’s men’s volleyball teams, so you waited online on the ticket sales website until the minute it opened

Spoiler alert: you got some banger seats 😌✨

Shoyo may or may not have tackled you when he read the ticket details, letting out his excited giggle (you know the one)

“I can’t believe you got these, angel! You’re coming with me, right? You’ve gotta! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Gives you sweet little kisses between each individual ‘thank you’

“Of course I’ll go with you, Sho! I’m really glad you like it!”

He will give you the brightest smile of all time — that shit makes Christmas lights pale in comparison

“Have I told you how much I love you?”

RIGHT BACK AT YOU BBY

Hold his hands to warm up together when temperatures drop pls :)))

It’s become a weekly December tradition to watch a Christmas movie with Natsu at the Hinata household

She’ll sit in your lap while the three of you are cuddled under a blanket together, and Shoyo will lace his fingers with yours all discreetly

In conclusion, I am a sucker for holiday Hinata 🥺🥺🥺

Tsukishima

His room is decorated to the very minimum simply because his mom and brother had insisted on him being festive

You know those holiday instrumentals that are really calming and jazzy and stuff? Yeah, that’s the only Christmas music he will tolerate in his house

While he’s still got his usual icy demeanor, this blond bitch does get slightly less snippy with the Karasuno boys

Is always on the nose with getting you the exact thing you wanted for a present

Like,,, TO THE SMALLEST DETAIL

You don’t even have to bring that shit up beforehand, he just KNOWS

“Tsukki, how did you—?”

“It’s pretty obvious, with the way that one ad kept showing up on your phone.”

b r u h

How does he pay such good attention without even letting on??

As for his own present, you’ll usually get him two: one gag gift and one more serious gift

His dino plush collection size is partly due to the former’s contributions this time of year

Yes the dinos have names

You exchanged gifts on Christmas Eve with all the team (you made him go) and he saved your more serious one for last

It was a scarf that you’d gotten custom made, which had a Spotify code knitted into the fabric

Scanning the code opened the app to a playlist you’d created especially for him

He got pretty quiet when figuring it out and scrolling through the playlist

Would let out a certified Tsukki Nose Exhale™ when he came across certain songs

The more subdued reaction was expected because it’s Tsukishima

His little chuckles and warmer eyes were enough of a giveaway to tell you he very much enjoyed your gift

But on the walk home, he took the scarf and wrapped it around you both, and then brought his arm around your waist

“Thank you.”

You deadass almost combusted because it was so unexpected??

“You’re welcome. Merry Christmas, Kei”

Way to respond calm and collected 😌👍

But on the inside your body was in freak out mode

He wears the scarf all the time jdfsklfjdsk

Yamaguchi

Take the most tooth rotting fluff you could imagine

And then double that and put a fucking cherry on top

That’s the equivalent of what Christmas is like with Yama Yama

Y’all are like kids in a candy store — literally

For your Christmas dates it’s all about sweets and shared giggles, so frequent trips to the candy and baking isles of the grocery store is a must

Making gingerbread houses, peppermint tasting (mostly trying those different and wild ass candy cane flavors), you name it and it’s there

Stomach aches? I don’t know her

Yeah you do but they go away with enough butterfly kisses 🥰

Tadashi is exceptionally good at decorating gingerbread houses for whatever reason

He put a poll on his instagram between yours and his final products and he won by a landslide

It’s not like yours was necessarily bad, more like he’s just an icing master

You also might have eaten too many gumdrops which left your rooftop lacking in ✨spice✨

But it’s okay because Tadashi donated some of his leftovers to you

He’s such a sweetheart uwu

Please for the love of everything get him something heartfelt as his present

You know those long distance bracelets for couples?

Basically if your s/o taps the icon on the bracelet it’ll send a little vibration to the other person’s as a notice that you’re thinking about them

This boy seeks constant reassurance, and you love to give him his deserved love and validation, so it was the perfect present

It takes a second for him to figure out what it is, but after reading the directions and testing it out, the most adorable smile erupted on his face

And then since you already had yours on, he tapped the little icon again with a giggle

“Hey there”

It becomes common habit to tap it at least once every couple hours

GOD HE IS SO CUTE

He is just so soft this time of year, give him all the love and he will return it tenfold ☺️

Kinoshita

This boy is absolutely an awkward cutie and an avid romantic

Give him the cliches and he will eat em up, no doubt

It naturally gets more apparent around the holidays

He’ll take you on pretty winter walks, give you lots of little gifts (while blushing a hell of a lot), and is just a professional at stumbling upon some mistletoe

Wow wonder how it got there, Hisashi

He’s quite a bit more confident when simply alone with you than in a crowded space

And that definitely shows when he takes you out on a secluded sleigh ride around town

Yeah you heard me

A fuckin’ sleigh ride

Horses and blankets and everything

Don’t even ask how he managed to pull it off, because he loves watching the cogs turn in your head and simply will not give you a straight answer

Of course there’s the nice driver guy who’s there, but in the back alone Kinoshita’s confidence goes 📈📈

Lots of flirting, tons of skimmed touches and shared giggles throughout the ride

I legitimately simp really hard for him

Anyways it was a gorgeous ride through town and super fun

On Christmas Eve you both exchange gifts together and tbh whatever you got him will leave him happy and flustered regardless

But when he opens the wrapping paper to find an entire set of vintage VHS tapes, he’s stunned

He owns a VHS (actually canon!) and honestly loves it to death, and the fact that you’d get him tapes of pretty high quality for his collection meant a lot

Gosh he’s so underrated but a definite sweetheart, give him all the holiday love

Narita

Another underrated bby 🥺

He’s so chill and is pretty open to anything during the holidays, so long as he gets to spend ample time with you, his friends, and his family

Definitely more of an indoor person despite being accepting of most situations

Hence why you thought a cute little indoor winter picnic would be right up his alley

Which it absolutely was 😌✨ nice work

You’d made plans while in secret communications with his family members about the whole thing

He’d been pretty stressed lately with trying to handle his schoolwork, while also helping out others with theirs

Despite being a wonderful tutor, it was clearly becoming a bit overwhelming as he tried to grapple with so much at once

So when he came home one day to find a pristine house with you settled on a blanket in his living room, he was quite surprised

There���s a cheese plate, soda cans in a cute ice box, sandwiches, snacks, a presparked fireplace — you and his family went all out

Really adorable I cannot lie

“I thought you said you were going gift shopping today?”

“I might have maybe lied :P”

So he gives the sweetest little smile and sits across from you

Y’all stay there and talk for hours

After finally getting through everything previously laid out on the blanket spread, you slid him a little rectangular box that he looked at curiously

“Already? I haven’t wrapped yours yet!”

“Mine can wait a bit! Just open yours”

And so he does, and you watch with a face-splitting grin as he looks down in awe

You got tickets to see his favorite rock band in concert while they were on tour

He sprung onto you and pulled you into the tightest hug ever

“Holy shit you’re the best I love you so much how do you get even more loveable every day—!?!l”

It’s a jumble of words but you’re able to put it together and it makes you giggle

He deadass sprints upstairs to go get your gift and make sure that you feel as equally appreciated as he does

In simple words: wholesome holiday sweetness 🥰

[yurimother]

The Best Yuri of 2019

2019 was a challenging year for many, in and out of the anime community, which is still reeling from the horrific attack at Kyoto Animation’s first studio in July that killed 36 people. However, I want to take this moment, as we start a new decade, to reflect on some of the greatest achievements in Yuri.

2019 marked the genre’s 100th anniversary, 100 years since Nobuko Yoshiya released her landmark lesbian novel Yaneura no Nishojo that shaped and created Yuri as we know it. It was possible Yuri’s best years ever, as more incredible titles were released and localized, we experienced fantastic events and moments, and more. This article is part of my continuing celebration of all things Yuri!

Note that many of the works mentioned came out before 2019, but they either were first released in English during 2019 or hit particular high points during this year. Now then, here is the best of Yuri in 2019!

15: SukeraSparo

This Japanese Yuri visual novel developer is starting to reach new heights as they set their sights on releasing new and innovate Yuri titles. The English release of The Expression Amrilato, an educational Yuri visual novel that teaches the player Esperanto, was one of the most unique and creative works I have the pleasure of playing this year. But, they outdid themselves this year, releasing a sequel, Itsuka no Memorajxo, creating one of the most beautiful Yuri games in Folklore of Kudan, and founding a sister brand, SukeraSomero, “to fill the world with YURI!”

The Expression Amrilato is available in English for PC on Steam and Mangagamer

14: Mage & Demon Queen

This outrageous and vivacious webcomic hits its stride in Season 2. After setting a solid foundation, this masterpiece by Kuru “Color-LES” is finally able to explore some more interesting plot lines such as its characters’ pasts, conflicts between the demons and humans, and figuring out who’s gonna be the bottom (it’s Malori, it was always going to be Malori). It is chock full of modern humor and moments I can only describe as hilariously kinky, while rarely feeling gross of sleazy. I can only wait to see what is next for these star-crossed lovers.

Mage & Demon Queen: is available to read in English on Webtoon

13: Yuri Anthologies

In 2018, Yen Press gave us the first hint of some Yuri anthologies starting to squeak into the West with Éclair, but 2019 threw the floodgates open! New works are coming out in both Japan and the West, featuring multiple artists coming together to create works featuring workplace romance, isekai, first-time stories, and even MARRIAGE!! Additionally, creators released volumes collecting their various short stories, like Rouge Nagashiro’s Eve and Eve, and some series saw multiple artists contribute to an already established world such as in the Bloom Into You Anthologies.

12: SHWD

Sono’s science fiction Yuri doujinshi series, published in English by Lilyka, is everything I did not know I wanted in a Yuri series. It showcases pulse-pounding action as the women of the “Special Hazardous Waste Disposal” fight to take down the horrific Dynamis. It has musclebound beasts of women that exude strength, power, and femininity at all times. And it has a compelling story about overcoming personal conflicts and learning to rely on others.

SHWD is available digitally on Lilyka

11: If I Could Reach You

No other series this year delivered an emotional gut-punch like If I Could Reach You. This tragic and beautiful manga by tMnR follows a young girl as she attempts hopelessly to overcome her attraction to her brother’s wife. Everything from the artwork to the dialogue masterfully communicates the devastation and pain that the protagonist Uta feels. It is beautiful and devastating, and I carry every awesome moment on my mind continuously.

If I Could Reach You is available digitally and physically in English from Kodansha: https://amzn.to/36vsYPe

Honorable mention: SQ/Tamen de Gushi/Their Story 

2019 was a little bit of a slow year for Tan Jiu’s webtoon, thanks to an extended hiatus, especially when compared to 2018’s triumphant and spectacular storyline. However, small moments of genius like Sun Jing’s father’s phenomenal visual monologue keep this work in peak form top and my heart. I hope that its recent Japanese serialization on Comic Walker help even more people enjoy it.

10: Still Sick

In my recent review, I called this workplace romance a “Yuri manga for Yurijin,” and there is no way I could come up with a more apt description. Still Sick surprised me with its self-awareness, knowledge, and commentary on the genre. It has an incredibly deep story about two complex and layered characters that ignite each other’s passion, in more ways than one.

Still Sick is available digitally and physically in English from Tokyopop: https://amzn.to/2rVRH07

9: Going Beyond Girl Meets Girl

Yuri stories tend to repeat the same story, two girls meet, they fall for each other, they get together, THE END! The past decade or so has finally seen more stories adding sexual elements, in contrast to earlier S works, and some even explored the dating life of two schoolgirls. However, we have recently seen something remarkable: works featuring couples “graduating” (literally or metaphorically) and enter the real world. Series like Citrus, Kase-san, and, briefly, Bloom Into You explore the relationships as they exit the honeymoon phase and get into the meat of lesbian livelihood.

Kase-san and Yamada is available for English preorder: https://amzn.to/2MXnp4w

8: Nagata Kabi

Over the past few years, Nagata Kabi has redefined what the Yuri genre can be. Her powerful autobiographical manga essays My Lesbian Experience With Loneliness, My Solo Exchange Diary, and Genjitsu Touhi Shitetara Boroboro ni Natta Hanashi communicate her experiences with queer identity, mental illness, and alcoholism. No work of fiction could ever hope to reach Nagata’s strength and crushing honesty. Nagata’s manga has and will continue to change readers and the genre for years to come.

My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness is available digitally and physically in English from Seven Seas: https://amzn.to/2MZ7DWJ 

7: Bloom Into You

Nakatani Nio’s popular Yuri series Bloom Into You crushed it in 2019. It concluded serialization, ending on an incredibly high note, and dominating the market in both English and Japanese, selling over one million copies (well deserved). Additionally, Sentai Filmworks released an excellent collector’s edition of the 2018 television anime adaption that is now a must-have for Yuri collectors. But my favorite aspect of this series is the spin-off light novel series featuring one of its best characters, which have already begun English release.

Bloom Into You: Regarding Saeki Sayaka is available digitally and for physical preorder from Seven Seas: https://amzn.to/2SVPVHG

6: Heart of the Woods

When I heard that one of the co-creators of Highway Blossoms, one of the better English Yuri visual novels, was creating his own studio, I was pretty excited. But nothing could have prepared me for Studio Élan's first release, Heart of the Woods, which blew me away. The enchanting adventure full of exceptionally queer characters shattered every expectation I had. I am looking forward to its Switch port and voice acting patch, as well as more titles from Élan.

Heart of the Woods is available for PC on Steam. Switch edition coming later this year.

Honorable mention: Hayama-sensei to Terano-sensei wa Tsukiatte iru

Oui Pikachi’s manga about two teachers navigating a new relationship is one of my new favorites. Everyone is so supportive of the title characters as they stumble their way through an honest and mature love. However, I am only giving it an honorable mention this year, as I am sure it will be on this list next year after Seven Seas releases the first volume in English as The Gym Teacher and School Nurse are Dating!

The Gym Teacher and School Nurse are Dating! is available for preorder in English from Seven Seas: https://amzn.to/39JhXMs

5. Sexiled

Ameko Kaeruda’s spectacularly feminist and outrageously funny light novel series Sexiled is could ever ask for and more. I feel in love with its compelling female characters and their riveting battle against the sexist conventions of their society, all of which painfully mirror reality. This work is cathartic, empowering, and so very, very gay.

Sexiled is available digitally in English from J-Novel Club. Physical edition coming later this year: https://amzn.to/35u6NaW

4: Yuri Life

I adore domestic Yuri. Granted, I love a good romance and fantasy, but so many of these stories exist that it feels overwhelming, and sometimes it is just good to sit down and read about two women who love each other living their everyday adult lives in bliss. Kurukuruhime’s Yuri Life, which I have enjoyed ever since it was first uploaded to Pixiv and am so proud to own in print, is precisely that. Nine couples being cute and living together in a variety of humorous, scandalous, and adorable situations. Yuri cohabitation has never been so good! Now, if I could only get some Yuri titles about women raising kids together…

Yuri Life is available digitally and physically in English from Yen Press: https://amzn.to/35stSLg

3: Children’s Cartoons

For the past several years, children’s cartoons and media have slowly begun to allow bits of queer representation onto the screen. While we are still a long way from having Elsa kiss a girl, the small and large victories on children’s television give me hope. Some of my personal favorites include an episode of Nickelodeon’s The Loud House about a lesbian date, a lesbian couple and agender character (using they/them pronouns) in Craig of the Creek, the female protagonist of Twelve Forever developing a crush on another girl, and of course the unbelievable amount of queerness that She-Ra and Steven Universe shove into every moment. I wish I had more series like these when I was young, and I am thrilled that my students get to grow up with them.

2: Our Dreams at Dusk (Shimanami Tasogare)

Yuhki Kamatani’s Our Dreams at Dusk is easily 2019’s best manga. The incredible story explores many real aspects of LGBTQ identities, gay, lesbian, trans, non-binary, and asexual included, in an emotional and resonating masterpiece. The artwork is stunning and more expressive than words could ever be. I stand by what I said in my review, that Our Dreams at Dusk is the greatest manga I have ever read and wholeheartedly believes that it was deserving of the only 10/10 score I gave in 2019.

Our Dreams at Dusk is available digitally and physically in English from Seven Seas: https://amzn.to/2s282AE

Honorable mention: ‘The Conditions of Paradise’ Licensed

One of the best moments of this year came out of Anime Expo when Seven Seas announced that they had licensed Morishima Akiko’s Rakuen no Jouken and would be releasing it as The Conditions of Paradise in 2020. Not only is The Conditions of Paradise a fantastic and mature work of Yuri literature, but it is also over a decade old, having been published originally in 2007. This license, more than anything else, helped me realize how far Yuri came this year. Not only is the hottest new series being adapted, but a historic and profound classic of the genre.

The Conditions of Paradise is available for preorder in English: https://amzn.to/2FjTE9M

1: Yuri Publishers

Not too long ago, it was rare for us to see more than a few Yuri manga releases in a year if any, but now we are at the point where a publisher can do an event announcing five Yuri licenses in a single day! As of this year, all the major publishers, and plenty of smaller ones, are actively licensing, adapting, and publishing amazing Yuri works: Yen Press, Viz, Kodansha, Seven Seas, Tokyopop, Renta, J-Novel Club, and more keep giving us incredible Yuri. I also have to mention the incredible work Lilyka Manga is doing, working directly with mangaka to adapt Yuri doujinshi titles into English, something I would have never dreamed of a few years ago.

As Yuri enters its second century, we are staring down the rest of 2020, a year that will no doubt go down in current Yuri history. The year will see a record number of Yuri manga releases both in Japan and from licensed series in the West. We are getting several promising anime series like Adachi to Shimamura, Magia Record, Oshi ga Budoukan Ittekuretara Shinu, a Princess Principal movie, and more. I cannot wait to see what this year will hold for YuriMother and the Yuri genre. I hope you all stick with me through it as we navigate the waters of a newer, gayer, and greater world of Yuri.

[callmecallmecrazy]

Keeping Up with Old Friends

*****

Well, it’s another odd one.  Somewhere between preppy and stodgy, old-fashioned man I guess?  This is actually brand spanking new!  If it hadn’t been for Covid, this would have been the fastest story I’d ever written!

*****

“Josh?  Is that you?”  Henley saw his old college pal, the wannabe hipster with a scruffy beard and flannel button downs ordering coffee at a Starbucks.  Except, scruffy Josh was smooth shaved with a gentle part in his hair and dressed in a tight fitting lime green polo, creased khakis, and polished loafers.  And the Josh he knew would never order from Starbucks or any corporate chain for that matter.  But the tiny polo logo on his chest suggested that had definitely changed.

“Henley!  Hey man,” his voice was still the same chipper and little high pitched.  Henley met his friend in a hug, noticing that his formerly thin arms had a plethora of veins bulging up over visible muscles.  For someone who claimed to hate pretension, he sure had gone full tilt.

“Surprised to see you here,” Henley half-joked while teasingly pressing on the polo player on Josh’s shirt.

“Ha!  Yeah man, turns out they have some good stuff!  Plus, it’s close to work.”

“Where are you working now?”

“Hemplebaum Inc.” The big smile he offered was met by a wide eyed stare from Henley.  Josh was a film and lighting guy.  Last they’d talked, he’d been working on some plays downtown.  Certainly not at “evil corporation incorporated”.

“What happened to the plays?”

“Ya know, I wanted a change.” Josh shoved his hands into his pockets.  “Plus, the money sucks.  I didn’t want to share a studio my whole life.” “Aren’t they, like, totally evil?” Josh frowned, his face taking on an overly broad and exaggerated look.  Had his head grown?

“Hey man, they’re cool.  I got headhunted by a department chief.  I’m not one of those office drones filling foreclosures and manipulating bank accounts.”  In response to Henley’s increasingly horrified look, Josh shrugged and laughed.   “I don’t think they do that stuff anymore either.”  

He glanced at his watch, a shiny rolex, and then back at Henley.  “Hey man, great seeing you.  Maybe we’ll hang out sometime?  I gotta get back to the office!”  Henley watched Josh walk out, noticing how well he filled out those khakis.  His buttocks had developed a shelf like quality, curving the pants out awkwardly as he walked away.  

“That was so strange,” Henley said aloud.  But people change.  Josh seemed happy and healthy.  Maybe he always wanted to be a frat boy after all?  Henley got his coffee, black, and took the train downtown.  As he sipped on the scalding coffee, Henley did think about some of what Josh said.  Downtown was prohibitively expensive.  Henley paid in time what he couldn't afford in rent having to ride in everyday.  Sure, he loved life down here but he really couldn’t enjoy it as much as he’d like.  But then, Henley could never handle being some corporate drone.

-----

“Josh?  Is that you?” The big man standing in front of the drink counter, picking up a gigantic fuzzy looking drink, didn’t physically resemble Josh at all.  He was big, the Navy blazer he wore couldn’t hide the broad shoulders and his green and blue rep tie had a hard time lying flat over his bulging pecs.  And his hair, last time well groomed but still with a youthful length, was sheared down into a practically flat bit of black hair, shiny and parted.  The face was still the same, even though the hair made his face look extremely square.

The man looked back at Henley confused for a moment before a tinge of understanding glittered in his eyes.

“Henley Tator,” his voice was slower and deeper.  While Henley went in for a hug, Josh replied with a one armed side hug and pat on the back.  He practically grimaced when Henley went full hug.

“Josh!  Man, it’s been awhile.” “Yes Henley, I’ve been very busy at work.  And please, call me Joshua, it’s more professional.”

“Wow, still at Hemplebaum?”

“Yes, moving up the ladder.  What about you, Henley?”

“Oh ya know, I’m still at the art funding startup.  It’s hard but I enjoy it.”

“Pay well?” “Ha, you know it doesn’t.” “I can tell,” Joshua eyed Henley’s tattered jeans and waffle shirt with distaste.  Henley was taken aback by the outright disdain.

“Well, I’m passionate about it.” Joshua just nodded.  “You’re looking good. Gym time is really paying off.” “Yes,” Joshua’s stern demeanor dropped a touch, there a bit more levity in his voice suddenly.  “There’s a corporate gym and it’s free and they even give you an hour a day to use it - paid!”  He was practically giddy as he talked.  Henley relaxed a bit.  This was the Josh he knew, chirpy and friendly though not exceptionally outgoing.  And honestly, Josh had always been the kind of guy who dove head first into anything.  It really wasn’t shocking that he’d treat his job the same way he’d treated edibles, EDM, and frisbee golf.

“You still doing frisbee golf?  Since you’ve got the bod now,” Henley playfully slapped one of Joshua’s broad shoulders and was shocked at how firm the muscle was.

“I’ve been doing a lot of golf!  I play with several of my coworkers and even some of the junior partners.  I’m getting my handicap down too.”

“Oh, you’re playing real golf?”

“Yes, it’s very enjoyable.  And great for business bonding.  Chance for men to talk about work, wives, sports.  Say, you watch the game last weekend?”  That was wholly unlike Josh.  But again, he was probably throwing himself into the corporate world.

“Nah, man, I’m not into basketball.”

“It’s football season.” He replied so directly and sincerely Henley almost fell over.  “I know not everyone is into the NFL, but I assumed you would at least watch your alma mater.  And our Bulls are having a great season.  4-0 in conference play.”  Joshua kept talking about football as Henley stared deep into his eyes.  Was this really Josh?  The guy hadn’t even known what sport a touchdown was part of.

“Anyway, Henley, it’s been great catching up.  Maybe we can grab some beers and watch a game sometime.  I need to return to the office.”  Joshua checked his watch, flashing the shiny gold in front of Henley.  As the muscleman walked out, Henley couldn’t help but notice the incredibly large derriere.  The vents on his suit jacket hung awkwardly over the luscious rump and it jiggled every so slight as he walked.  A stunning contrast to the hard muscle covering the rest of his body.

“Yeah, great to see you Josh-ua,” he forced out the last syllable.  It made sense to do it.  This was not the Josh he knew.  This was apparently Joshua, his friend?  Henley grabbed his coffee, black, and tried to sip on it on the train.  It was a little too hot for him and he was stuck holding it between his hands awkwardly for the whole ride.

-----

“Josh?  Is that you?  I mean, Joshua?”  Henley had avoided the coffee shop since their last encounter.  He told himself it was all in his head, but everything about these encounters creeped him out.  Joshua seemed like a totally different person.  He wasn’t sure if it was steroids, the growth seemed extremely quick, or perhaps just the makeover itself made him look different.  But he was finally caffeine deprived enough to step in, and there was Joshua.  Or at least a Joshua facsimile standing next to another man.

This Joshua wore a tight fitting suit, seemingly straining at both the broad shoulders and around the crotch.  It was exceptionally subdued, a rather pale black color with a white button down shirt and blue and green rep tie.  His hair was the same, but his face had undergone a change.  His jaw, formerly a little pointed and sharp, spread wide and hung low, giving his face a square, lantern shape.  He stood ramrod straight, sipping from his milky looking drink.  The man next to Joshua was older, but otherwise nearly identical.  He was thicker around the middle, but any gut he might have was hidden by the extremely high rise of his pants, sitting above his belly button just under the rib cage.  His tie was black and grey with a subtle windowpane pattern.

The man stared at Henley for a moment before tapping Joshua on the shoulder.

“John Howard,” his voice was slow and deep.  “I believe this boy is trying to get your attention.”  The younger man turned to look at Henley and then a faint bit of recognition crossed his face.

“Henley Tator,” the voice was practically monotone, low and deep.  He took a few powerful steps forward and offered a large, rough hand.  Confused, Henley accepted it and the grip practically shattered his bones.

“Mr. Amplebottom,” Joshua turned to face the older man.  “This is a friend from college.  Henley Tator.  Henley, this is my boss.”  He gestured robotically between the two.  Amplebottom offered his hand and it was the same rough shake.

“Nice to meet you….,” Henley sort of trailed off, hoping to get a first name.

“And to you, Henley,” he put a very strange emphasis on the words, as though he had never said them before.  Henley turned back to his old friend.

“So, Joshua,...” he was cut off by a cough from Amplebottom.

“Please call me John Howard,” Joshua said curtly.  “Mr. Amplebottom thinks I would be better suited professionally as John Howard.”  The way he spoke, extremely even in both rhythm and pitch, was unnerving.  Henley could make out some of Josh’s features in the hulking face before him.  An upturned nose and naturally thin eyebrows over wide eyes resembled the Josh he knew.  But the rest of the face clearly belonged to this corporate meathead named John Howard.

“Okay, John-”

“John Howard.”

“John Howard.  So, how is work?”

“I am very happy at Hemplebaum.  I was recently put in charge of development acquisitions under Mr. Amplebottom.  He has been a great advisor in my career.”

“That’s great.  Glad to hear you’re doing good!”

“Yes, Mr. Amplebottom has assigned me to a downtown acquisition project.”

“Acquisition?”

“Correct, we have a potential development on 520 Porter and need to remove the building.”

“Huh, okay.  So what building are you removing?”

“Currently the future site of Hemple Housing Porter is occupied by the Cherub Theatre.” “Cherub Theatre?  You used to work there?  You wanna tear it down?”

“It is an eyesore.  And it occupies a lot with high economic potential.  It is better suited for development.”

“Josh-,”

“John Howard.”

“What the hell happened to you?”  The wide eyes suddenly narrowed sharply and almost seemed to sink back into his skull a little.

“I’m offended by your tone, Henley.  And honestly,” he adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves while disgustingly eyeing Henley’s dirty clothes up and down. “I grew up.  You could do with some growing.”

“You’ve grown into a soulless jerk.  We used to mock those fucking money obsessed frat boys back in college.” “I just bought a house out in Chester.  Right next door to Chadwick Statton.  You remember Chadwick?” “Oh my god, he was that Kappa Kappa Kappa asshole.”

“The KKK joke is stale.  Besides, it’s very difficult to purchase a home in that neighborhood.  I was fortunate to golf with him and he gave me an in with the Board.  Plus, I’m working on my country club application.  The application fee is $50,000.  Could you afford that?” “Jesus Christ! Fifty k just to fucking apply?  You’re insane.”

“And you, Henley, are a child.  But if you ever decide to grow up,” he reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a thick black card and stuffed it into the breast pocket of his plaid shirt.

“John Howard,” Mr. Amplebottom suddenly interrupted the discussion.  John Howard stiffened up and faced his boss.  “I’m glad you had this chance to catch up with your fraternity brother, but we have wasted time.  I assume you’ll stay late to make it up?” “Of course, Mr. Amplebottom.” They turned to leave.  Henley got a good look at the pair.  Despite the broad shoulders and bulging pectorals, both had a distinctly pear shaped body, with wide hips and massive butts that shook just a touch as they walked.  Henley laughed to himself, realizing Amplebottom really lived up to his name.

Henley grabbed the card from his pocket and examined it.  It was a thick card stock and slightly textured.  The Hemplebaum logo was obnoxiously large in one corner.  Right in the middle was John Howard Johnson, Associate.  Henley was quite sure he was going mad.  That was absolutely not his last name in college!  Had he changed his entire fucking name to fit in with these people?  Golfing with Chad, obeying his boss like some braindead goon, destroying his old workplace to build, what? Multi-use condos?  Like there isn’t enough of that?  The Cherub is a relic, in a good way.  Had Josh been putting on the entire time he was in college?  Was this who he truly was?  No, no this name changing was a deeper sign.  Maybe a psychotic break?

It occurred to him that standing in a Starbucks staring at a business card as people queued up around him made him look insane.   And he had to get to work anyway.  This whole thing had become so ridiculous he’d just ignore it.  He ordered his coffee, adding a heavy dose of cream, and went downtown.

-----

“John Howard?  Is that you?”

“You’ve reached Hemblebaum Inc acquisitions division.  How may I direct your call?” Damn, his card didn’t even list a direct number.  Henley had tossed the card around his apartment for a while, even starting to dial once or twice.  But then he’d ask himself why exactly he was doing this.  John Howard, whoever he was, wasn’t Henley’s old friend.  He wouldn’t have even spoken to Henley back in the day.  But theoretically this man was Josh or had been Josh.  And Henley couldn’t shake him from his mind.

“May I speak with John Howard Johnson?” Henley’s voice cracked a touch as he spurt out the words.

“I’ll transfer you to his desk,” replied the chipper female voice.  The line filled with static and then began ringing.  After a few rings, he was bumped back to the secretary.

“Would you like me to give Mr. Johnson a message on your behalf?” “Oh, uh, no thank you.”

“If this is a private matter, I can forward you to his personal mailbox.”

“Sure.”

“One moment.”  There wasn’t any ring, just straight to the mailbox.  He could practically see the stodgy man who produced the recording.

“You have reached the desk of John Howard Johnson.  Leave a message and I will respond.”  Damn, he was so terse and humorless.  And what exactly was he going to say?  The words came out of his mouth before he could think about them.

“Hey, John Howard.  This is Henley Tator, from college.  I was thinking about what you said when you gave me your card.  So, call me back?” He left his number and hung up.  What on earth had he been thinking?  I mean, the growing up thing had crossed his mind.  His two bedroom apartment was rough to afford even with two roommates.  It would be nice to have his own place.  And his clothes could use an update from his student days.  Of course, he wondered exactly how long he’d be waiting for a call back, which gave him far too much time to ponder his plans.

------

“This is Henley,” he wouldn’t normally answer the phone for an unknown number, but since he had no idea when John Howard would call, or from what number, Henley snagged the phone every time it rang.  Sure, he’d fielded a few calls from telemarketers, but he was going to get to the bottom of this.  Hardy Boy or something or other.

“Hello Henley, this is John Howard Johnson, I am returning your call from 2:15.” Damn, he was a total stiff.  He was probably sitting at his desk, feet flat on the floor, back ramrod straight staring straight ahead.

“Hey John Howard, how’s it going?”

“I am well, Henley, how may I assist you?” Straight to the point.

“Well, you know I was thinking about what you said at Starbucks.  About growing up and stuff.”

“Yes, you are quite childish.” “Can you help?”

“Of course, I think an interview with Mr. Amplebottom would be a delightful way to have a new start.  I shall arrange an 8:00 a.m. appointment tomorrow.  He’ll be expecting you.  Check in at the lobby by 7:45.  Oh, and please find more suitable attire.  This is a professional work environment.” “Great, well, that’s a lot more than I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“Umm, no idea.”

“You asked for help, I am providing it.  Is something wrong?”

“No, no, no.  Thank you so much!  I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“You’ll see Mr. Amplebottom.”

“Yes, yes, of course.  Thank you, John Howard.”

“You are welcome, Henley.” Click. Well, that was brisk.  But a development.  Now of course, he’d need to find clothes.  I mean, he had a suit, just the one, in navy blue, and it got pulled out once a year or so for weddings.  A dab of cologne would top it off.  He didn’t want to be suspicious.  Of course, as far as he could tell, the only person who thought something was amiss was him.

-----

“This is Henley,” he replied to the officer checking name at the front desk.  He was a private security guard, bulky and bull necked with biceps that practically shredded his sleeves.  The stern faced man checked a list carefully.

“First name?”

“Henley.”  The officer stared at him.

“Henley Henley?”

“No, Henley Tator.” He could sense the guard sighing internally.  Henley was such an odd name, it usually was more than enough information for people to locate him.  But, judging by John Howard, this was probably an extremely by-the-books business.

“39th floor.  Please give your name to the secretary and she’ll let you in.  Tator, Henley.  Less confusion.” The man curtly directed him towards the elevator and returned to his post by the door.

Everything about the lobby, the elevator and the entry way on floor 39 was the same: wood, dark, overbearing.   Harsh fluorescent lighting easily guided the path.  The whole place was like a time capsule, the height of early 60s style.  This might as well have been a set for the early seasons of Mad Men.

The sharp ping of the elevator signalled his arrival and after a quick check-in, he was led across a sea of cubicles towards a large office in the corner. Despite the early time, the office was already alive.  He caught glimpses of suited men at some desks and a trio of buff suits standing by a water cooler.

Amplebottom’s office continued the trend.  It was big with large windows along the wall.  He had a gigantic wooden desk with an equally large chair that seemed twice as wide as normal.  Which made sense given his butt.  He glanced up as Henley entered but did not stand.

“Henley Tator,” the way he said his name was so peculiar.  He spoke so slowly that emphasis ended up on the wrong syllables, making the words sound foreign to Henley himself.

“Mr. Amplebottom,” Henley walked over in front of the desk and offered his hand.  Amblebottom leaned forward and shook it.  He’d prepared himself for the vice grip and felt the muscles in his forearm swell as he clenched back.  Once that was over, Henley pulled back a chair and began to sit.

“Before you sit down,” his thick words poured molasses over Henley’s movements. He found himself standing upright and looking at Amplebottom.  The man was a practically a hypermasculine parody, low brow, big nose, wide jaw with a gigantic cleft chin.  A touch of receding hair over the temples added more dignity than age.  His clothing was similar to the other day, pale black suit and subtle tie.

“John Howard setup this interview.  I am unsure how you can contribute to Hemplebaum.”  Henley stood uncomfortably as Amplebottom stared at him.  He took a dry swallow and stared into the big man’s eyes.  They were a strange grey color, cold and severe and almost lifeless.  He also found it hard to look away, they were enrapturing.  “What do you expect from me?”  Henley was almost sure he saw the grey eyes flash.

“I guess, umm, I was just hoping for a job?”

“That sounds very convincing, son,” the droll response unnerved Henley more.

“I want to try something new.  More grown-up.” 

“Hemplebaum isn’t some urban start up with billiards and soy milk.  This is a very demanding corporation.  I expect my employees to be eager and dedicated.”

“Yes, Mr. Amplebottom,” Henley found himself nodding in response.  He spread his legs a little wider and clasped his hands behind his back.  It was more comfortable than just letting them hang and it prevented fidgeting.

“This job can also be very rewarding.  Acquisitions works on a baseline salary plus commission incentives and bonuses.”

“How much could I make?” Henley honesty hadn’t thought about the actual financial potential of the job.  Sure, he’d casually looked up the cost of homes in Chester, but he hadn’t really considered the salary.

“As a Junior Associate, you’d start with a baseline of 100 plus three percent commission with incentives quarterly based on goals and projects.  Do well, and you can quickly move up.”

“Shit, seriously?”

“I am always serious Henley.”

“No, sorry, Sir,” he tacked on the honorific quickly.  The financial prospects were huge!  “That’s more than twice what I make now.”

“Yes, the corporate world has perks.”

“I’d like a job as a Junior Associate, Mr. Amplebottom.”  That caused the bigger man to smile.

“Are you willing to dedicate yourself to your job, Henley?  We do not tolerate slackers.”

“Yessir!”

“Well, I think, based on John Howard’s recommendation, that I can give you a test run.”

“Thank you, Mr. Amplebottom.”

“However, there will be a few adjustments required.  Your suit is fine, the sneakers are not.  And ties are mandatory with a collared shirt.  Human resources will give you a rundown of our policies.  I’m assuming you probably won’t have work appropriate clothing.  The company can offer you a corporate card to get yourself setup.  You’ll receive automatic payroll deductions to pay it back.”

“Thank you, Mr. Amplebottom.”

“I appreciate this new eagerness from you.  I assure you, if you work hard, you’ll find Hemplebaum the most rewarding place.”

-----

“This is Henley Tator,” he said confidently to the guard.  The officer, a gruff man with visible tattoos on his hulking forearms, gave him a once over and checked his name off a list.  He said nothing as Henley headed inside towards the elevator. The glass walls of the elevator gave him a great chance to reflect on the past twenty-four hours.

The employee handbook was massive.  Something like 200 pages of rules, regulations, and suggestions mixed in with corporate speak and industry jargon.  While HR had gone over some basics of the position, personnel forms, and whatnot, the only section he’d read closely was on wardrobe since Amblebottom specifically mentioned it.  It wasn’t terribly confusing since it included not just general recommendations but pictures, stores, and tiers of items towards “building a man’s wardrobe.”

Henley followed the basic directions and found the elegant, tiny menswear shop the manual recommended. Upon hearing that he had recently gained employment at Hemplebaum, the elder employee immediately went to work, selecting an array of khakis and polos to start.  Henley had resisted the creased pleats but to his dismay the shopkeeper insisted.  He had successfully rebuffed the notion that he needed new underwear.  He was an adult, he could make private decisions on his own.  The man also said he’d begin working on a basic suit.  Henley referred to it as “black” and was politely informed that the color was “charcoal” and black suits were only for funerals.

Which is how he found himself, smooth faced from new toiletries, in a salmon polo and crisp khakis, waiting on the elevator.  He had a minor flashback to when he first ran into John Howard.  Joshua.  Josh.  Whoever he was now.  Their outfits were similar, but Henley took a moment as he brushed a lock of hair from his eyes to remind himself that he was just playing pretend.  He was figuring something out.  Capitalist finery was required.  Although his mind had already started calculating exactly when he could get his own apartment.

-----

“This is Henley Tator,” he answered as the office desk rang.  He’d quickly been put into a cubicle and signed into a company website to begin training.  Usual stuff, safety procedures, privacy policies and intellectual property, then lots and lots of company information, acquisition and retail training, even negotiating for beginners.  He had been expecting to find a diversity or harassment training, but the program, like seemingly everything else here, was highly structured and old-fashioned.  It was probably deeper in the training.  He’d swiped his new ID card when he got up for the bathroom or to get some water, the program seemed on a timer because if he dallied or got distracted the pages would time out and he’d have to start again.  On the plus side, it made the day pass extremely quickly.

“Henley Tator,” he recognized that stoic bass.  “This is John Howard Johnson.”

“Hey, John Howard, how’s it going?”

“I am well, Henley.  I will be going to the cafeteria for lunch in 15 minutes.  If you are hungry, you are welcome to come along.”

“Sure thing, John Howard!  Thanks! I am getting hun-.”

“Please meet by the elevator in ten minutes.” John Howard was not a chatter.  Never had been.  But it gave him something to look forward to so he rushed to finish a basic finances video quiz narrated by a corporate casting finance bro in a tasteful suit talking about “life at the club” and “the importance of appearances.”  Finally, he badged out of his computer for lunch.

By the elevators, in an impossibly rigid stance, legs apart, hands straight at his side, face forward, was John Howard.  The square faced muscle man was packed into a charcoal suit and shiny dress shoes.  Henley noticed the colorful tie had been replaced with a more muted one with barely noticeable muted black stripes.

“Henley Tator,” he offered his rough hand and Henley accepted.

“John Howard Johnson,” he said, half mocking but also happy to see a semi-familiar face.

“The cafeteria is on Floor 15,” John Howard said briskly as they stepped in.

“So, having a good day?”

“My day is doing well, thank you.  How is your day?”

“Good, lots of new information.  Guess I need a lot of training.”

“The gym is on the fifth floor.  It is a good source of weight training.”

“Oh awesome!  Yeah, man you look great.  I definitely should hit that up.”

“I am happy to show you.  I workout an hour before work each day and one hour afterwards.”

“Holy crap dude!  And you live out in Chester?  How do you find time to sleep.”

“A good night’s sleep is important for muscle growth.  I try not to waste time on silly things.”

Henley had built a small salad for himself and grabbed some water.  John Howard had taken the platter, a slab of meat in gravy, potatoes, and greens.  Combined with what appeared to be a frothy glass of milk.  He sat the two down at a table with two other men.  One was a stoic, stern faced man who looked like he could be John Howard’s brother.  The other was a much flashier man with smooth blonde hair and a plaid bowtie.

“Henley, this is Bert Anderson, accounting,” he gestured to his clone.  “And this is-” he was cut off by the flashier man.

“Rotterham Casper Cornelius Southard, call me Rip.  Accounts.  So, J.H. mentioned you were his old college bro?  Bet you got up to some mischief back in the day, eh?” he gave John Howard a playful punch, and he did not react.

“I prefer John Howard.”

“I know you do, J.H.”

“So, you’re both in accounting?” Henley asked.  Bert shook his head while Rip laughed.

“No, Bert here is a number cruncher.  I manage accounts.  Management, keeping clients happy.  Happy-hours, bars, strippers, the works.  I’m the fun one.” “I’m sure your wife does not approve.”

“She approves of that pool boy I hired for her.  She approves of our second home in Mayfield Valley.  She can approve of my dalliances.”  Henley mostly stayed silent as they talked about work, wives, and sports.

-----

“Take a seat, Henley,” Mr. Amplebottom gestured to one of the extra wide chairs before his desk.  Henley hardly took up half, but he wondered if they were wide enough for Amblebottom’s ample bottom.

“Is everything alright, Sir?” Henley hadn’t seen much of his boss the past week, but he’d found himself thinking more and more fondly of his boss.  The training videos included a lot of stuff on professional behavior, and while a lot of it seemed like a pathetically antiquated throwback to worse times, it wouldn’t hurt to adopt some of the culture.  At least while he was here.

“Just doing a check-in, seeing how it’s going.”  Amplebottom made constant eye contact.  Those grey eyes were engaging, sort of hard to look away from.

“It’s good, Mr. Amplebottom.”

“Enjoying the training?”

“It’s very informative.”

“Glad to hear it.  I take my employees personal development very personally.  I want you to think of me as a mentor.”

“Yes sir.”

“So, let me give you some advice.”

“Yes sir.”

“I appreciate the fraternity makeover.  Really, it’s a classic look.  But it doesn’t say corporate.  It doesn’t say rising star.  It doesn’t say money.  Does that make sense?”

“Umm, I guess so.” “Page 183 in the handbook.  Suggestions for the transition between fraternal life and entering the corporate world.”

“I wasn’t in a fraternity,” Henley laughed.

“I was under the impression that was how you know John Howard.  That you were one of his Kappa Alpha Sigma brothers?” “I, umm, no.  And I don’t think… John Howard was either?”

“You should work on speaking directly.  These umms and pauses don’t project confidence.”

“Yes sir.”

“Alright, you’re dismissed.”

“Thank you sir.”

One his way out, Henley took a moment to swing by John Howard’s desk.  Partially just to wish his fellow worker a good weekend, but also because that fraternity question bobbed around his head.

“John Howard?”  The stalwart man seated perfectly straight rotated his chair to face Henley.  Henley noticed that he sat on an extra wide chair and seemed to fill it well.  All those hours in the gym seemed to harden every muscle on his body except his butt.

“Henley Tator, do you need something?”

“Just wanted to say have a good weekend.” “Enjoy your weekend as well Henley.  If you’re feeling comfortable, I can show you the company gym Monday.  I workout at 7 am and 7 pm everyday.”

“Yeah, that would be great- wow you’re here a long time!”

“I take a lot of pride in my position at Hemplebaum.  I hope to become a division partner.  Legacy membership at Rolling Acres is five hundred grand.  And that’s my place.”  Henley pondered the man before him.  Honestly, there was a lot to like about John Howard.  He was honest, straightforward, and hardworking.  But there was something callous, cold, and privileged about him.  

“Hey, John Howard.  Were you in a fraternity?”

“Kappa Alpha Sigma, you know that Henley.” Did he know?  He looked like a K-Sig, the kind of former athlete who came to party hard and maybe pass a class or two.  

“Anyway, enjoy your weekend.  I need to finish up. Good night.” John Howard turned back towards his desk without another word, leaving Henley to shrug and walk to the tube and head home.

-----

Page 183 started with three pictures: a polo and khaki sporting college student, a man in trousers and blazer, and finally an old and noticeably thicker man in a conservative suit. Then it talked about the foundations of a man's future and his wardrobe.

“The navy blazer is a classic item that works for semi formal occasions and casual office places. Even as a man transitions to daily suits, the navy blazer will always have a place at a garden party or fraternity alumni event.”

“Ties and bowties are a delightful way to add color to an outfit.  It is important to view the event and location when making a selection.  Bow ties in particular are more flamboyant in a workplace and should be considered carefully.  Business attire defaults to long ties, and more conservative workplaces require more conservative choices.  Consider emulating the attire of your superiors.”

“Supports should be practical and supportive.  Belts are fine for casual outings; however, braces are more desirable for suiting, both for support and style as it allows a more traditional and flattering cut.  Similarly, undergarments should provide support and coverage.  A traditional undershirt with sleeves is ideal, as it provides sweat protection.  Briefs are the most appropriate underwear choice, as it provides support without being extraneous.  It is also compatible with tennis for those who participate in sport.”

This had to have been the third comment someone had about his choice of underwear.  It seemed a deeply intrusive thing for a company to comment on.  But a lot of other sections are good information.  It explained why men like Bert and John Howard wore ties and Rip, in a more colorful position, had the flashier bowtie.  He took some basic notes and decided he’d hit up that menswear shop.  They had a company account, he could probably just tack it on to his previous bill.

-----

“Henley Tator,” he said simply.  The guard, the same one as every other day, checked the list and let him in.  Uncharacteristically, the guard spoke to him.

“Early start?”

“I’m supposed to meet a friend at the gym.”

“Ah, good choice.  I’ve been lifting since my football days,” the guard said while flexing a bicep.  It strained the fabric of his shirt so much there was a tiny tear at the sleeve.

“Ah damn, gonna have to size up.  Sorry, please don’t report me.”  He suddenly seemed mildly afraid.

“Report you?”

“Some of the guys here are real sticklers about manners.  They don’t like cursing.” “No, man, we’re cool.  You look great!  Not sure I’d want to be that big honestly.”

“Hey, once you start, you never wanna stop.”

Henley wanted to stop.  John Howard was already changed and waiting on him, so Henley rushed to change and hit the floor.  The next hour was a diabolic hell.  John Howard started with squats.  Henley got a good look at his friend's monstrous calves and steel cut quads, surprisingly pale but doubted John Howard wore short pants much.  The most shocking feature was watching that jiggly ass clench and thrust with each repetition.  Hard muscle lurked underneath the jelly-like layer.  And it went on and on.  Big lifts, slow lifts, legs, legs, legs, he was deeply certain he would never be able to walk again.  John Howard had to help him strip down and lumber into a shower stall.

He took his time rinsing off, rubbing the corporate provided products into his aching muscles and letting the hot water relax him.  Leaning against a wall, still gasping for breath, he let himself drift off for a bit.

“You alright, Henley?” John Howard asked, cracking the curtain.

“Just, just finishing up,” he said, turning off the water and grabbing his towel.  In the locker room, he saw John Howard's muscled glory in more detail, the ravenous cuts of his back rippled as he walked.  He was thick from below his pecs down to his butt, no real waistline, and most of that part of his back was covered in cotton fabric.  His legs were bare below the butt, the garganuan thighs popping through the pristine white cotton of the briefs.

While Henley got ready, John Howard went to a mirror and began applying white shaving cream to his practically smooth face, treating every exposed piece of chin and neck to the cream and razor.  Slipping back on his underwear, Henley donned a white undershirt and pulled up some pleated khakis.  Out of his locker came a white button down shirt which he began hastily buttoning.  John Howard was finishing his face with aftershave and examining himself in the mirror.  As he approached the lockers, Henley got a frontal look at him.  He hadn’t realized how high waisted these briefs were from the back.  His bellybutton was completely hidden, practically cartoonish.

Henley went to the mirror and began combing and styling his hair, working in product and brushing a part in.  His hair was getting trained for it, the strands beginning to grow a part on the right side naturally.  It looked pretty good like this.  More corporate that he had preferred, but it was a classic style for a reason.

As he returned to his locker, John Howard was pulling some trousers up his legs, hoisting them up with a pair of silk braces.  Everything about John Howard was just so big nowadays, his proportions practically Marvel comic level, that he hadn’t realized how high waisted his pants had become.  No one wore them like that nowadays.  At least no one who wasn’t LARPing or Mr. Amplebottom.  John Howard reminded Henley of Mr. Amplebottom, a lot.  The book said to copy your bosses outfits.  John Howard had taken that to heart.

Henley fashioned the gold and green tie around his neck before slipping into a navy blazer with prominent buttons.  John Howard walked towards the mirror again as he rolled up the cuffs of his shirt and adorned them with cufflinks.

“Nice man,” Henley admired.

“Thank you,” John Howard was almost bashful as he showed them to Henley.  He noted the onix black button had the letters J.H.J cut into them.

“Are they monogrammed?”

“Yes!  It’s very popular at the club.  And they were suggested by the haberdashery.” “Haberdashery?  Wow, that sounds so English.”

“These are made in America.  All the clothes recommended by Hemplebaum are.”  John Howard seemed agitated by the suggestion. “I just meant the word.”

“I don’t want people to think I’m un American.”  The stern response caused Henley to stay silent as the pair continued dressing.

-----

Henley was honestly looking forward to his weekly review meeting with Mr. Amplebottom.  He was starting to get in the swing of this whole corporate thing.  And the tantalizing prospect of his first paycheck was right around the corner.  That wasn’t the only corporate benefit he was enjoying.  His clothes were tight.  Quite tight.  At first he’d thought something was snagged, but the small strain on the buttons of his shirt was unmistakable.  As he pulled up his pants this morning, he’d heard a slight tear as a few seams in the rear snapped.  He’d have to get some things let out.  Or maybe new ones altogether.

The growth had bothered him a bit at first, it seemed to come out of nowhere.  But John Howard explained it was just the result of an effective workout and diet plan.  On John Howard’s suggestion, he’d dropped the salads and switched to the daily platter, a fuller meal for growth.  And the workouts meant he was exhausted everyday after work and went right to bed.  Which kind of went against his reason for working here in the first place.  Wait, why was he working here again?  To make money.  He wanted to enjoy more of life downtown.  Wasn’t it something about John Howard?

“Take a seat Henley.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Henley gratefully replied.  He plopped himself into the cushioned chair and did his best to keep his back tall and straight.  The men around here had impeccable posture, at least the ones in acquisitions.  Rip certainly knew how to relax.  Which gave him an idea for after the meeting.

“How has work been proceeding?”

“Very good, sir.  The trainings have been very helpful and I am eager to begin assisting with projects.”

“Good.  I am pleased with the energy you’ve devoted to your job.”

“Thank you Sir.”

“I’ve decided to assign you to the Hemple Housing Porter project under John Howard Johnson.” “I look forward to it.” “Very good.  We’ve acquired the property, but there is still concern about ‘historical value.’  You will be tasked with pricing and selling anything valuable inside.” “Yes sir… is that the Cherub theatre?”  Henley got a touch concerned.

“We refer to projects by our goals.  But the Theatre currently sits there.  Is that going to be a problem, Henley?” His grey eyes seemed to flash.

“No, Mr. Amplebottom.”

“Good.  You never struck me as the theatre type anyway, Henley.  I assumed you were into sport.”

“Not really Sir.”

“That surprises me.  Since you are friends with John Howard, you must have attended many football games with him.  And that sport is your preferred leisure activity.”  The words came out like a metronome, even paced and simple.  But they stuck in Henley’s mind.  What else would he and John Howard have done together?  He was clearly obsessed with sports and his fraternity.  And Henley was enjoying the gym, which was truly just another sport.

“Now,” Mr. Amplebottom continued.  “You will be working with some old men from assets and banking.  Really conservative types.  You should try speaking slower.  That will deepen your voice and give you more presence.”

“Yes, Mr. Amplebottom,” the words spilled out in nearly double the time. His tongue felt heavy as he spoke and every syllable seemed to require extra effort to spit out.

“Very good, Henley, with practice you will also be able to use a deeper, more masculine tone.  That will be very helpful in business.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Now, just one last thing, Henley,” there was a venomous glint in his eyes as he stumbled over Henley’s name.  “Henley is a very peculiar name.  Unique.  It sets you apart when you should fit in, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know, Sir.” “In business, you know how important it is to give the right impression.  The men in these industries tend to be very old-fashioned.  And so much of this business is based on rubbing elbows and social connections.  You have to give yourself every possible advantage.”

“Yes, yes Sir.”

“I know you want my advice.  I am a good mentor.”

“Yes Sir.  You are a good mentor.”

“Professionally, I think you should introduce yourself as Henderson.”  Henley’s brain practically exploded.

“Yes Sir,” he muttered weakly.

“Try it on me.”

“Hello, my name is Henderson.” More brain explosions.  It felt partially like getting hit in the head and partially like taking really good meds. “Slower.”

“Hello, my name is Henderson.” A glitter bomb went off in his brain.  It felt like magic.

“Very good, Henderson.”  Hearing someone else say it, as though it always had been, made the magical glitter settle on his brain, covering it in an ashy fog.  “Well, I figure you might want this before you go for the weekend.”  He opened a drawer and pulled out a large printed piece of paper.  He handed it over to Henderson who grabbed it eagerly.  Upon seeing the amount of money on his check, Henderson’s pupils practically morphed into dollar signs.

“Associates get more than double that.”  More dollar signs flashed before his eyes.  “And it’s a fairly simple promotion.  Good work is always rewarded.”

“Yes Sir!  Thank you sir!”  The first set of words rushed out of his mouth.  He calmed himself and regained his slow speaking tempo.  He glanced down at the check and realized it said Henderson Tator.

“I don’t think I can deposit this.” “You’ll use the company banking system from now on.  You’ll find it has much better rewards for higher income brackets.  We have built in direct deposit.  But I wanted to see the look on your face the first time.” 

John Howard was hard on work when Henderson knocked.

“Henley Tator,” monotoned his deep voice.  Henderson had a flashback to Starbucks and a similar conversation, but now the shoe was on the other foot.

“Please call me Henderson, John Howard,” his thick, slow voice drawled out.  “It is more professional.

“I agree, Henderson,” Henderson could have sworn a tiny smile crept onto the corners of John Howard’s mouth.  But the stoic man’s face returned to it’s sculpted indifference immediately.  “What can I do for you?”

“I was considering asking Rip for some... herbals, for the weekend and wondered if you cared to partake.  Maybe watch a game?”  Henderson had a distinct memory of two dudes chilling out to some cheap weed and beer while watching Reefer Madness and laughing their asses off.  John Howard's face was not amused.

“No, Henderson.  You know I do not partake in such things.” “What?  You went through a whole rasta-ganja phase in college…”

“I did not,” John Howard was visibly angry even if his voice maintained its impressive monotone.  “I do not approve of illicit substances or behavior and I do not appreciate your slander.” “Woah, calm down, big guy,” not that John Howard wasn’t calm.  But Henderson knew that one punch from the dude would knock him silly.  “I was just thinking back to our college days….”

“Yes, I remember Chadwick forcing us to try the stuff during Hell Week.  As I recall, you disliked it even more than I did.”

“What?  What does Chad have to do with this?” “The only time I ever tried marjiuana,” his voice gained a hushed tone as he said the word.  “Was for a fraternity induction.  And if you continued to use it, I was unaware.  If you would like to watch the game and enjoy some beer or liquid that would be fine. But I will not associate with drug users.”  Henderson was taken aback.  This man, well maybe not this man, but this dude he might have been at one point spent nearly a semester acting like some sort of stoner God.

“I’m sorry, John Howard.”

“If you are still interested in watching the game and having a beer, I would not be opposed.”

“Yeah, totally!” Henderson swallowed awkwardly after he spoke.  Those words felt wrong.  But either way, he’d spend a little more time with Josh Howard and figure out what was going on.

-----

“Tator, Henderson,” he said at the gate.  The officer was the same as before, but there were a few subtle differences.  His tight uniform now had full length sleeves and he wore a cap on his even more masculine face.  “Good morning, Mr. Tator,” the man’s deep voice spoke slowly and severely.  His face had not a glimpse of recognition.  That was fine by Henderson because he was actually quite tired.  He’d ended up in Chester Saturday, bringing a small batch of beer to a football party.  It was very strange to him, meeting several of John Howard’s neighbors, though Chadwick was mercifully absent.  He had a great time, watching, drinking, and shooting the breeze.  The evening went on far later than he anticipated and despite the offer of a guest room, he had taken a late night Uber back into town.  Newfound interest in football meant he had spent Sunday watching football, drinking beer, and ordering pizza.  And now he was meeting John Howard for a workout with a beer hangover on a Monday.

The workout was much better this week.  He found himself making great strides in his max lifts which made him exceptionally proud.  John Howard gave his butt a big swat after they finished cleaning up and he felt his rump shudder within his pants.  His pants had gotten so much tighter and when he looked in the mirror, the back of his sportcoat practically lay flat from the shelf on his behind.  As he admired his form in the mirror, Henderson couldn’t help but brush the smooth shaved line of his prominent jaw.  It really stood out nowadays.

“Miss a spot?” John Howard asked, assuming Henderson was rubbing stray hairs.

“Hey John Howard, why is working out making my jaw bigger?”  John Howard stared at him curiously and shook his head.

“I don’t think I understand.” “Since, I’ve been working out with you, my face just seems bigger.  My jaw and chin in particular.” “Maybe losing some baby fat?  Or maybe your improved posture is making your face look different?”  Henderson couldn’t explain it.  He examined the reflection a few seconds more, sure that something was amiss. But he didn’t have an idea better than John Howard’s so he let it pass and went into the office.

Henderson’s job required calls, lots of calls.  Calls to landowners, historical groups, insurance companies, auctioneers, all with their own opinions and interests.  Henderson wasn’t actually supposed to do any research, simply talk to the right people to get appropriate evaluations and transportation.  He found himself mimicking John Howard’s voice, deep, slow, and disinterested.  It wasn’t exciting work, but the progress was slow and consistent.  Museums wanted some old posters, there was a buyer in Argentina for the chandelier, and several vintage stores wanted furniture pieces.  A few calls were less productive, with upset protestors yelled at him.  He’d tried being sympathetic at first, but quickly found that being stern and direct got them off the line quicker so he could return to work.

His days soon blended together.  Morning workouts, work, lunch, work, home, sleep, repeat.  He sometimes worried that he was missing out on stuff, his old friends called or texted but he rarely responded anymore.  It always seemed to happen at an inconvenient time.  Eventually, he joined John Howard for his evening workout as well, the results were great, even if he’d had to go up a size or two.  Walking around with pecs straining a dress shirt felt incredible, like a huge dose of testosterone had been injected into him.  Strangely, his buttocks were growing considerably, in strength and size.  But it accumulated a soft layer of fat that spread across, making him even wider.  He’d asked John Howard about it once, and he simply told him a big butt was better than a big gut.  And Henderson had to agree.  None of the men here had big guts.  Mr. Amplebottom had a huge butt.  And Henderson wanted to be like Mr. Amplebottom as much as possible.  More and more, Henderson felt extremely grateful towards his superior.  Not only had he hired an unqualified applicant, but he had acted like a mentor and guide and coach.  He gave Henderson more and more advice, about standing, walking, talking, and each time he came back eager to learn more.

“Stand tall, Henderson. Head up, don’t slouch.  Keep your hands at your side.  And don’t fidget.”

“A deeper voice commands attention better.  Be direct.  Contain emotions, you are better suited to appear calm and in control at all times.  There is no need to appear energetic or excited.”

“Wide steps, heel to toe.  Legs apart.”

-----

“Tator, Henderson,” he said calmly as he buzzed in.  It was old hat by now.  The security guard was probably the same one as before.  Henderson paid less attention nowadays to things like that.  He had noticed that the security uniform had slowly been replaced with something more formal.  The man wore a coat and bowtie along with his cap, looking halfway between a mobster and the world's most muscular butler.

“Good morning, Mr. Tator,” he intoned back as he let him inside.  Henderson felt the weight of his body as he walked, his chest stuck out and helped keep his chin up.  The broad shoulders made him feel like he took up the entire doorway.  And his big wide stride made his butt and crotch kind of wiggle as he walked.  He could feel the fabric of his pants tighten around his balls and release, then tighten on the other side.  It was mildly arousing.

As he walked in, he greeted a few of his fellow coworkers as he walked to his desk.  Moments after sitting down, he received a call to head to Mr. Amplebottom’s office.

He stood at attention in front of the desk, legs apart, arms slack at his side, and staring directly into the grey eyes of his supervisor.  Amplebottom seemed to examine his employee for a moment before directing him to sit.  Henderson did, his increasingly wide and plump bottom expanding out, consuming nearly 3/4ths of the extra wide seat.  He bagged his pants as he sat, causing the crotch of his pants to ride up and give him a large moose knuckle.

“The last sales were processed by accounts payable.  You did a good job getting every last dollar out of that disgusting building.” “Thank you, Mr. Amplebottom,” came the monotonous reply.

“How do you feel about the Theatre?”

“The Hemple Housing Porter project will be very profitable.” “Yes, but how about the Cherub Theatre.  It’s an old building.” “The lot is better suited for new development.” “Do you like theatre, Henderson.” “No Sir, I was never interested in art.” “More of a sports fellow?” “Yes Sir, I love football.” “Bet you were a big ole lineman back in the day, huh?” “No, I never played.” “I’m pretty shocked,” Amplebottom smirked.  “So, no hard feelings about tearing down a 100 year old Theatre.” “No Sir.  The development will be very profitable for Hempelbaum.”

“Good man,” Amplebottom kept his eyes focused on Henderson, maintaining steady eye contact.  “Well, looks like you’ve earned your first commission check.”  He pushed a small piece of paper forward to Henderson, who picked it up.  His eyes bulged and dollar signs flashed before his eyes.

“Holy crap!” “Don’t swear Henderson, it’s unbecoming.” “My apologies Mr. Amplebottom.  I wasn’t expecting this.” “Three percent commission can be an awful lot when you do a good job.  And your percentage goes up with promotions.  And good work like this makes me think you’ll be getting on very soon.”

Henderson thanked Mr. Amplebottom profusely and headed straight to John Howard’s desk.

“John Howard Johnson,” he said in a deep, slow voice. 

“Henderson Tator, what can I do for you?”

“I got my first commission check,” he said, flashing it for John Howard to see.

“Congratulations.  It feels nice to receive appropriate compensation.  Men like us work hard, we deserve to make money.”

“It feels great.  I could get a down payment on a house.” “Or you could apply for a membership at Rolling Acres Country Club.”

“Oh, no offense, John Howard, but I don’t think I’m country club material.”

“I think you’d like it, Henderson.  It’s very nice, and a good way to make connections with other successful men.”  John Howard flicked his wrists and displayed a set of ostentatious cufflinks engraved with the country club logo, a laurel wreath surrounding a tree with “Rolling Acres” written over it. 

“That seems flashy for you.” “I was accepted as a legacy member.  They only let legacy members purchase them.”

“They’re very shiny.” “Yes, too much for the office normally.  But I was very excited.  Oswald Laurence Carrington IV called personally to inform me.  It’s very rare to get a call specifically from the Director of the Board.”

“I’m happy for you,” Henderson said simply.

“Come golfing this weekend.  I know you will enjoy it.  I can bring guests now!” John Howard’s voice was still precise but there was just the subtle hint of mirth that made Henderson smile slightly.

“Fine, what do I need to wear?  I’m sure they have a dress code.” “Meet at my home before.  I will have appropriate clothing.”

-----

Henderson had thought a lot about Chester since his last time out here.  The spacious green lawns, gigantic homes, and expensive cars cleaned daily should have disgusted him or at least made his eyes roll.  Nowadays, he couldn’t help but imagine what life must be like out here.  There weren’t music festivals or concerts, but there weren’t smelly people vomiting on the sidewalk or polluting cabs on every corner honking loudly.  John Howard’s elegant home had a room dedicated for watching football.  It wasn’t even the media room, he said there was a room with a movie projector on the second floor!  This was just his man cave, except it was a sunlit, high-ceilinged game room.  It was bigger than the apartment Henderson was currently living in alone.  He’d kicked out his roommates a month back.  They smoked too much weed, it made him dizzy, and he could easily afford the rent on his own nowadays.

John Howard answered the door dressed exactly as he went to work.  Henderson had expected something more casual- he’d worn khakis and a pink polo himself.  Instead, his bulkier counterpart was embarrassed by his attire and insisted he put on one of his old suits.  Henderson thought about protesting, but instead allowed himself to be turned into a Ken doll clone of his coworker, the only difference being the subtle patterns on the tie.  He asked John Howard if they were golfing like this, and he insisted they would be changing at the club.  Henderson wouldn’t imagine most people showed up dressed like this, but whatever made John Howard comfortable.

Henderson was glad he’d been made to change.  After they got past the gate and into the main clubhouse, every man he passed had a tie on.  Some of the younger lads were dressed in polo and khakis, but the acne and baby fat on their faces made him happy to not be confused with them.  They checked in and “Legacy John Howard Johnson” entered his guests name and they headed to the lockers to change.  John Howard handed him a pair of black trousers made of a stretchy and breathable material.

“You sure this one is mine?” “They’re identical.” “Oh, I’m not sure I’ll fit.” “I’m certain we’re the same size, Henderson.”  Which they were apparently.  Henderson was shocked as the pants expanded over his thighs, showing off the thick trunks he’d developed and the amble jiggly buttocks that pressed generously backwards.  They sat a little higher on his waist than he was comfortable with, but he didn’t want the pants to sag on the ground.  John Howard handed him a white sport polo with the clubs logo on the left breast.  Then he added a black golf cap.  Henderson had been afraid he might be wearing jodhpurs and knee socks, so the mainstream outfit was relieving.  They tidied up in the mirror, and seeing the two of them side by side, dressed exactly the same, Henderson had a bit of a shock realizing how much he looked like John Howard.  His body had filled out tremendously, broad shoulders and baseball like biceps, a thick but strong core, that overly wide ass that led into legs and calves formed by deadlifts and deep squats.  The biggest thing was his face.  He really could swear that his face had been almost heart shaped, but now there was a distinctly square shape to the thing.  His longish ivy league haircut gave him a more youthful appearance than his coworker, but otherwise he might have been a son or young brother.

As they walked out onto the course, golf bags strapped across their backs, Henderson could see a tall figure in the distance, seeming to greet them with a small wave.  John Howard returned the small gesture.

“Who’s that?” “Chadwick Stratton.  I invited him to play with us?” “You invited Chad?” “Chadwick, yes.  He’s been a friend since my fraternity days.  You know that Henderson.  I thought you would get on quite well.  Besides, he’s on good terms with many important people.  No one is a better connection.”  Chadwick was in stretchy salmon colored pants and a white polo exactly like the ones they were wearing.  He had a ballcap on with their college logo on the front.  Locks of blonde hair spilled under the brim.

“Hey bro,” Chadwick shook John Howard’s hand and pulled him in for a pat on the back.  For his part, John Howard tensed up but did not resist.  “Damn, you’re getting thicker all the time.”  He groped John Howard’s shoulders aggressively.

“Henderson, this is Chadwick Stratton.  Chadwick, this is Henderson Tator.  We work together in acquisitions at Hemplebaum.  He also attended college with us.”  Chadwick grabbed Henderson into a similar handshake to hug and Henderson felt a strange repulsion in his stomach.

“You look familiar.  Were you a brother?”

“No, I wasn’t,” Henderson replied.

“What fraternity were you in?” “I wasn’t.” “A big bro like you?  Damn, we missed you.  Would have loved to see you on our intramural teams.  Bruiser like you can definitely rough some people up huh?” He laughed playfully and punched Henderson solidly in the chest.  It didn’t hurt.  “Well, let’s play.” “Are we taking the cart?” Henderson asked, pointing to a line of white, polished golf carts.

“Nah,” Chadwick reached out and gave both John Howard and Henderson hard butt slaps.  “Figure you two fatasses need some cardio!”  He laughed barkingly and John Howard laughed along.  “Kidding, bro.  I know dudes like you are all about that max lift.  But I still got abs and the ladies love ‘em!”  He pulled up the bottom of his shirt showing off the solid, smooth abdominals carved into his tiny waist.

Chadwick was extremely friendly and a little physical.  Upon learning that Henderson had never golfed, Chadwick took it upon himself to teach him everything he could, resulting in him saddling up behind him to correct stance and form, but also jokingly pressing his crotch into Henderson’s butt and thrusting.  The boys all laughed at the inappropriate horseplay.

Henderson had a hard time hating Chadwick.  Taking away all the pomp of politics and social structure, Chadwick turned into an incredibly friendly alpha.  The kind of guy who would be quarterback, homecoming king, and fraternity president (all things he learned Chadwick had been).  And Henderson was just another one of his bros, dressed in expensive clothes, spending a morning on the course talking about work and finances and spouses.  He could remember specific events, Chadwick being horrible during the election season when he was campaigning for a fraternity brothers father, taunting an LGBT students group, and pissing on Tara Kissimmee’s car.  But his brain was giving each of these events a little different interpretation now: he was working hard to get Senator Mulligan elected, taunting the gay kids had been meant as a harmless prank, and he was drunk out of his mind with Tara and she never pressed charges so it wasn’t that big a deal.  Chadwick was just being a drunken frat- fraternity brother like everyone expected.

“Wife’s pregnant with the third.  I got started early!” He bragged while grabbing his crotch. “Chrissy Collop was always into you.” “Yup!  Her dad’s super rich, he’s president of the C-Group, that big currency trading operation.  Old, old money.  But how about you?” Chadwick got a mischievous glint in his eyes as he hand reached towards John Howard’s crotch and gave it a hard smack.  John Howard yelped as he grabbed his balls.

“Nut check!” Chadwick busted out laughing.  “But seriously, bro, getting those fellas ready?  Almost breeding season, boys,” he whispered to John Howard’s balls.  Henderson was kind of disturbed but John Howard was laughing and so he joined in too.

“What does that mean?”

“J.H. is getting married.  Missy Dorianger.”

“Congratulations!” Henderson said happily.

“Thank you. We’re finishing some final details.  Her Mother is very specific.  Sometimes she acts as though I’m unworthy.” “Missy can’t do better.” “She is a perfectly suitable spouse.  I am very pleased with the situation.” “Can’t wait til we can throw that bachelor party!”

“We’ll do something at the club.  I have no desire to watch you stagger around Vegas and hold your head while you vomit.” “It’s your party bro!  I’d be holding your hair for once,” Chadwick laughed.  John Howard rolled his eyes as he set up his shot and launched the ball.  He let out a whistle of appreciation.

“Good shot,” Chadwick and Henderson said simultaneously.  John Howard suppressed a grin.

“Henderson, I know it’s late notice but I hope you can at least attend the wedding.  The club has strict guest limits and I’m running out of passes for nonmembers for the bachelor party.” “Thank you John Howard.  I’m sure I can make it.” “And if you get your membership before, you can enjoy all the fun!” Chadwick winked at Henderson and snagged at his nipple that pressed out firmly from the polo. The boys laughed and continued playing.

The locker room at the clubhouse was a lively place stocked with bathing supplies and also booze.  Henderson intended on just showering up and getting dressed, but John Howard and Chadwick were both sitting in their briefs (Chadwicks a traditional cut, John Howard's extremely high waisted to fit over his enormous rump) and undershirts removing the cork from a glass bottle and pouring three full glasses of amber liquid.

“Bourbon,” Chadwick said shortly as he handed Henderson a glass before taking a deep swig of his own.  Henderson was very confused about what to do.  He was standing in a towel while his two golf buddies relaxed in their unmentionables sipping on a bourbon that probably cost more than those obnoxious club cufflinks John Howard has.  He didn’t want to upset his new friends, and the financial connections they represented, so he pulled on his grey Hanes Boxer briefs (his growing buttocks had necessitated so many new underwear purchases that he was desperately searching for cheaper brands) and white undershirt and sat down.  Taking a big swig of the liquid, he did his best to relax, leaning back in the chair and spreading his legs as his friends chatted.

“You’re getting pretty good at the trap shot,” Chadwick toasted John Howard.

“You’re still better,” John Howard was already refilling his drink happily.

“Always gonna be, dude,” Chadwick laughed again.  “But keep trying.  I enjoy competition.” He held out his cup which John Howard dutifully refilled.  “Man, I’m glad you’re here, J.H..  I miss having some bros.  This club is great, but too many of the brothers moved away.  But at least I got you two!” Chadwick winked at Henderson and encouraged him to finish up as another round needed to be poured.  Despite his increasingly sturdy frame, Henderson hadn’t been drinking much lately.  He hadn’t been much other than working, but the alcohol was working its way through his golf dehydrated body quickly.

The trio continued chatting until John Howard excused himself to the toilet, leaving Henderson alone with a man he once thought of as detestable.  But this afternoon was fun.  He got a small knot in his stomach as Chadwick turned to him with a viperous grin.

“Henley?  Henley Tator?” Chadwick suddenly said, dropping his voice low.  Henderson was confused for a moment.  He hadn’t thought of himself as Henley in a while.  It was almost shocking.  But then he cautiously nodded yes.

“Please, call me Henderson, Chadwick.” “Oh, I will, Henderson,” he emphasized the name.  “You look good.  I was pretty sure I recognized you, though you look a lot better now.  Hemplebaum’s done wonders for you.” “Thank you, Chadwick.  I am very happy working at Hemplebaum Incorporated.”  Chadwick nodded and smiled as the robotic words left Henderson’s mouth.

“I like having fraternity brothers around.  It’s a real lifetime bond, ya know?” He took another deep swig.  “Something that really defines a man.  Who he is. Who he’s going to be.” He seemed to stare at Henderson curiously.  For his part, Henderson had no idea what to say, and so stayed silent.  “If I’d known this is who you were going to be, I’d have made sure you were my brother.  Of course, I knew Henley.  Not Henderson.  Not big strapping Henderson.”

“Yes,” Henderson stirred his glass and sat there.  Chadwick was slurring slightly, but Henderson wondered if he'd be able to stand up.  This drink was strong and Chadwick was pouring him a third.

“Now, Henderson.  What do you think Henderson was like in college?”

“I’m Henderson.” “Yeah, but in college you weren’t.  I just wonder what you wish you had done?”

“I wish I’d gone to football games.  I love football.” “Fuck yes dude.  Big guy like you played in high school,” it wasn’t a question.

“I’d want to have a group of men to watch sports with.” “Yup, every game we had a part at the house.”  Henderson stared at him with glassy eyes.  He was confused.  It seemed like Chadwick wanted him to say something but he could only shrug.

“Would have been nice.” “I hope you apply for membership.  The club would be a good fit for you.”

“I really enjoyed myself.  It’s very expensive.  I was kind of looking into getting a new apartment.” “Where are you living nowadays?” “I have a two bedroom downtown.  It’s a heap, but I live alone.” “Thought about buying a house?” “I can’t afford a house in the city.” “What about in Chester?”

“What?! No, I haven’t, I mean, I don’t need a mansion,” Henderson sputtered as he spoke despite training himself to not.

“Not yet, but once you get a wife and some kids, plus Chester is right next to Rolling Acres.” “I’m not sure it’s right for me.” “It’s right for Henderson.  For football playing, fraternity brother, corporate shark Henderson,” Chadwick smiled and let out a tiny burp as he finished another drink.  Henderson blushed, though it was hard to tell through his liquor flushed face.

“It’s hard to buy a house in Chester.” “I can set you up.” “Really?” The idea was setting itself in Henderson’s mind.  Far from feeling like a fresh fantasy, it embedded itself deep inside, as though it had always been there, as though he’d always wanted to buy a giant mansion in a gated neighborhood with an expensive country club.  It was always the goal.  It’s why he did what he did.

“I always support my Kappa Sigma Alpha brothers.” He poured two more drinks and raised his glass in a toast.

“Kappa Sigma Alpha, brothers strong, brothers long. Four years forged the lifetime bond.”  Chadwick said and stared at Henderson.  Henderson hesitated, but his mind wanted it so bad.  He wanted Chadwick to like him, to be his brother, to go back and be a total frat boy in college.

“Kappa Sigma Alpha, brothers strong, brothers long.  Four years forged the lifetime bond.”  Chadwick smiled and the two chugged down their drinks.  John Howard showed up a moment later and plopped down while pouring himself another, though he was several behind now.

“What did I miss?”  The other two smirked and poured another round and the three K-Sig brothers passed another toast to their fraternity.

-----

Henderson woke up naked with a gigantic erection on the softest white sheets he’d ever felt.  HIs head throbbed like never before.  A glass of water and several ibuprofen sat next to the bed and he swallowed both without hesitation.  Looking around, he admired the pristine cleanliness and order of the room.  He was pretty sure where he must be, even if he’d never seen John Howard’s guest room before.

A white cotton robe laid over an old wooden chair, but no other clothes were about.  Wrapping the fabric tightly around himself, he opened the door and peered down an equally clean and quiet hallway.  He ducked back in the bedroom, helping himself to the toiletries in the attached bath before heading downstairs.  John Howard was dressed similarly, though the half closure of his robe meant that Henderson could see the waistband of his briefs.  He smiled weakly at Henderson and offered him a cup of coffee which he accepted happily.

“Where are my clothes?” Henderson croaked after a strong sip.

“Washing machine.  You vomited all over your suit.”

“Your suit, sorry man.”

“Quite fine Henderson,” John Howard let out a quiet laugh.  “Haven’t had a night like that in years.  Reminded me of our fraternity days.” Our fraternity days.  Henderson went to protest but found his brain muddled.  They had talked about it a lot last night, keggers, hell week, initiation, rush, all kinds of random details of fraternity life flooded his brain.  The memories seemed like his mostly, though they had a dreamy quality that he attributed to the hangover.

“Remember that party where Van Boegearden vomited after his keg stand?  And then he insisted on drinking it up again?”  Henderson laughed hoarsely and John Howard joined in. “He’s a congressman now,” John Howard added.

“Good, good.  Always knew he’d do well in politics.”  They both took large sips of their coffee.  John Howard was reading a paper but also had ESPN on, reviewing yesterday's college football.

“We missed the game!” Henderson moaned.

“We watched the game, Henderson.  At the club.” “Oh God.  They’re never going to let me join now!” “I wouldn’t be so sure.  Oswald V seemed quite amused by you.” “Which one is that again?”

“Son of the Board Chairman.  I’d commit that to memory.” “I have now.  Well, so long as he was amused.  Hopefully he can appreciate old fraternity brothers getting together.” “We’ll have to do it again soon.” “Hopefully often once I’m a Rolling acres member.” “I’m glad you’re going to apply,” John Howard smiled.

“I belong at a place like Rolling Acres,” Henderson said with a new confidence.

“Men like us need places like Rolling Acres,” John Howard replied.

“I’m going to have to call a cab,” Henderson said looking at the clock.

“I can take you.” “It’s quite a drive into town.” “I slept through church,” John Howard said, yawning.  “And I’m not feeling up to a workout today.  Besides, I thought I might take you around Chester first.  There are a few lovely homes for sale you might want to see.” “That would be delightful!”  The two men turned their attention back to the TV and their coffees, nursing the kind of hangovers they swore they’d never get again but always did.

-----

Henderson strode into the building swiftly, impossibly perfect posture, dressed in a charcoal suit and tie that he borrowed again from John Howard.  He noticed there was a new guard at the gate when he gave his name.

“Fine weather, Henderson?” the young guard, a redhead with a trace of a tattoo on his neck asked.  Henderson was appalled.  He’d ended up spending most of Sunday at the club, enjoying dinner at the men’s grill.  At the club, the staff spoke using honorifics and only used questions relative to their service.  He was deeply annoyed that this young guard spoke.  However, he buried that feeling as he hustled to the elevator.  He had a busy morning ahead.

After his workout, a grueling leg day that left him wobbly but his calves looked tremendous, Henderson asked Mr. Amplebottom’s secretary for a meeting, and his 9 a.m. was open.  So it was that he found himself standing before his boss's beautiful desk, arms at his side, staring into his eyes.

“What can I do for you, Henderson?”  Henderson had been trying to find the words to be concise but found that impossible.

“I want every piece of advice you can give me.”

“Why is that?” Mr. Amplebottom was suppressing a smug smile though Henderson didn’t notice.

“I want to be just like you.  And John Howard.  And the men at Rolling Acres.” “Enjoy the club?” “Immensely.  I belong there.  And here at Hemplebaum.  I want to become a partner.  I want to move out to Chester, in a house, not in some rubbish apartment in this squalid town,” he cast a disgusted look out the skyline of the window.  “I want money.”  That was low, deep and felt like a great truth awoke inside him.  Mr. Amplebottom smiled.

“So, Henderson, are you willing to fully commit yourself to Hemplebaum?” “I am sir,” he replied like a soldier.

“Excellent.  Well, I may say this suit is a good start.” “I’m borrowing it from John Howard.” “Yes, a good start.  You should get a dozen I think, at least.  Plus a few formal ones for special occasions.  Many ties and shoes.  New supports as well, you do look much better with your trousers at your proper waist.” “Thank you Sir.”

“A haircut.  I’m quite surprised you’ve stuck with the ivy league so long.  You are much better suited to something short.  Like mine and John Howard’s.  The part is a classic.  But I can set you up with my barber.”

“Yes Sir.” “Now, there is a rather large change that I believe is a necessity for your continued progression at Hemplebaum as well as your new social circle.” “What is that sir?” “Tator.  Just a gross, common name.  You agree?”  Henderson snapped back confirmation even though it made his head spin.  “Personally, I’ve always been very fond of alliterative names.  It’s a nice mnemonic device socially.  And it looks so great monogrammed.” “You want me to change my last name?  To something with an H?” Henderson asked, slightly confused.

“Well, I thought you wanted to.  To succeed.” “Yes Sir.” “So you want to change your name?  To what?” “I don’t know Sir.” “So you want my help, is that what you are saying?”  The words were coming so fast and his eyes so enticing that Henderson nodded.

“Yes Sir, please tell me what my name should be.”  Amplebottom leaned back in his chair, clearly relishing in the moment even though Henderson had no idea why.

“This is my favorite part.” Henderson didn’t say anything.  His boss clearly didn’t want him to.  And he’d just asked for help so there was no need to say anything.  “It’s a great moment, when you realize you want to be whatever I want you to be.  I was wrong about you Henderson.  I did not think you’d make it.  But here you are, willing and able.  And looking much better with the muscles.”  He reached into a drawer in his desk and produced something that looked like a ring box.  Ceremoniously, he pulled it open before Henderson’s eyes.  Inside were two silver and black cufflinks.  LIghtly engraved in the black was three vertical lines and one horizontal connecting them all.

“Henderson Harold Hearst. H.H.H.  Classic, but preppy, which seems to be the direction you’re taking.  Though I believe you should at least be a Junior.  Yes, Henderson Harold Hearst, Jr.”  Amplebottom suddenly got a concerned look in his eyes and made even more intense contact with Henderson.  “You’ll insist on being called Henderson.  No nicknames or shortening it.  Certainly, not Henry.  Tell them it was Grandmama’s maiden name.  A fitting tribute.”  Amplebottom seemed deeply satisfied as he leaned back in his chair a bit.  His jacket fell a touch to the side, and Henderson caught a glimpse of his black silk bracer.  He eyed the waist of the trousers, noting the lack of wrinkles and the perfect transition from charcoal wool to starched, cotton white.  Nothing was ever out of place on his supervisor, it was probably easier when you had such a boring wardrobe, each piece fit together without thinking.

-----

Henderson had set up an appointment at Winston and Co. right after his meeting with Amplebottom. They booked him for a half day on Saturday, which seemed like a very long appointment but they had assured him that this would be a one time appointment to get a permanent account situated.  His palpable excitement made his workouts and work days fly by.  He’d reworn the suit he borrowed from John Howard three times.  It was remarkable how it made him feel, strong, manly, and also kind of plain.  He’d talk shop with other men in his department, bland conversations about work and sports and home, that he found uninteresting but comforting.  There existed very little variety among the men at acquisitions.  No one ever brought up a thoughtful or challenging conversation, the most confrontational it ever got was between rival football teams.

And so it was that Henderson showed at exactly at 8 a.m. in front of the delightfully antiquated haberdashery (as John Howard had called it) for the full treatment.  He was greeted studiously by an old man with silver hair and thick black glasses who introduced himself as Art Sebert and insisted on calling Henderson “Mr. Hearst.”  That name made his blood jump and boil.  He’d thought the concept awkward only days ago, but found himself spouting off the name with such a simple, natural cadence he might as well have been born with it.

Forced to strip down in a rather spacious dressing room fitted with a few chairs and mirrors, Art had offered him coffee which he happily accepted after adding some cream and milk.  His personal fears around nudity had decreased in the corporate locker room but it still took him a minute to feel comfortable letting Art assess his bare form.  But he measured every inch with such quiet professionalism that Henderson soon became quite comfortable.  Art rattled off small measurements as he worked, informing Henderson that he’d need custom clothing for life.  Henderson found his brain startled by that information, but an honest assessment in the mirror showed how true that statement was.  He simply wasn’t built like a normal person anymore.  His neck was thick and his shoulders cartoonishly broad.  The jutting chest gave him a permanently puffed up vibe.  Uninterested in cardio, his thick rib cage continued straight down into hard abs.  And then the true shock, his sumptuous round booty.  It looked unreal, not only were his hips and buttocks wide and strong, but somehow there was a gelatinous layer on top that wiggled and shook whenever he moved.  It was a shockingly feminine touch on an otherwise hyper masculine body.  Henderson loved his butt.  It reminded him of being a lineman in high school, it was just like John Howard’s and Amplebottom’s.  Ridiculous but masculine and prominent, it took up space, like a man should.

“Alright, Mr. Hearst, give these a try,” he handed Henderson two carefully folded white objects.  The first was an undershirt, quite stiff and recently pressed.  He pulled it on with little problem, the starchy material felt soft enough on his skin and he appreciated how there wasn’t any excess pulling or snugness.  Even better, it actually reached past his belly button, which was further than his current shirts were doing, but still seemed undesirable.  The next item was a comically cut pair of briefs, again seemingly starched and pressed, blindly white with a simple waistband with a thin blue line running halfway through.  Henderson’s mind mounted a short-lived protest that didn’t even exit his mouth.  He’d known it was coming, it was in the book, from his boss, even at the club.  It was just another way he was going to fit in with the others.  It was deceptively erotic, something overly personal but seemingly inconsequential that he was giving up to fit in.  He pulled the cotton fabric up his body, watching the white fabric stretch perfectly across his rump.  He attempted to leave the underpants lying low, just above his hip bones, but Art stepped up and dutifully pulled them higher, keeping the undershirt tucked in as they stretched over the belly button, up the stomach, before settling just below his rib cage.  He looked like a strange sort of sausage stuffed into a bleached white packaging.  There was something about, so uniform and simple, that Henderson couldn’t stop himself from smiling broadly at his reflection.

It went significantly faster after that.  Art offered him a range of trousers of slightly different fits, making marks and eyeing alterations, seemingly finding the best base.  An overly starched, white button down slipped over his upper body.  Henderson let it hang open as he sat in his skivvies and shirt, drinking a whiskey the store offered, as a suitable pair of trousers were whipped up for the day.  Half an hour later, he was being ordered to button up his shirt, as silky black dress socks were pulled on his feet and the wool fabric of the pants began their climb.   Higher, much higher than his old pants, even seemingly than the borrowed ones, these custom trousers rose up until the very top of the pants rested just millimeters below the briefs.  The pants were already designed for braces, completely lacking belt loops, and Art adjusted them precisely, ensuring that his pants would sit at this exact height forevermore.  Henderson recognized something was being pushed out, some bits of color or variance in his lifestyle and perhaps personality as he allowed himself to be dressed like a doll, clothing cut and shaped so he wouldn’t even have an option on how to wear it, let alone what to wear.  It was a deeply comforting thought.

The process was repeated with the coat, explaining why he had been required to book hours of time with a salesman and tailor.  But they assured him, everything would be perfect afterwards.  All his measurements would be on file, new pieces would be created on a strict schedule to ensure he had neither too few nor too many pieces.  He enjoyed another libation as he waited, the old fashioned television in the room had been flipped on to college football and he delighted in sitting back and watching.  Not that he really sat back as it were, the stiff shirt and exact cut of his trousers seemed to keep him upright and tall, legs planted firmly on the ground, the crotch of his pants pulled tight into a prominent moose knuckle, head staring almost directly forward.  Henderson sort of laughed to himself about it, feeling slightly robotic, and enjoying the rigid pose.  It reminded him of John Howard.  And he liked John Howard.  He liked being like John Howard.

The cut of the jacket was phenomenal, even with a thick waist, his broad shoulders and bulging pecs required a fantastic V shape that made him look thick and strong and almost debonair, in a sort of boring way.  Art selected a beautiful silk tie, completely generic and tasteful, and made it taut around the neck.  He stepped back, admiring his work and checking the length of the cut of small sections as Henderson stood, militaristically straight posture, arms at his side, staring straight ahead.  Once everything seemed to be in order, he instructed Henderson to remove the tie, jacket, and oxford shirt.  He’d continue working as another man offered him a pair of house slippers and escorting him into a room that looked like an old-timey barbershop with two chairs.

The wall had four pictures on it of generic hairstyles, each numbered.  His barber pointed at number one and told him he would receive that cut unless he did not approve.  Henderson felt nothing and simply nodded.  The shearing began, his back and sides thinned and trimmed and the edges shaved smooth.  The top was reduced and thinned repeatedly, clumps of hair falling lazily to the floor.  Each time, the barber seemed to be examining something on his head, but he said nothing to Henderson, who was silent in turn.  Finally, apparently satisfied, he squirted a greasy clump of goo into his hands and began working through Henderson’s much thinner hair before combing it aggressively.  The final look should have been shocking, but Henderson seemed to have accepted it already.  His hair was now dark, short, and combed and parted within an inch of his life.  The product gave his hair of bright sheen that was the only notable trait on the otherwise generic hairstyle.  It was an exact replica of John Howard’s and Amplebottom’s and almost every man in acquisitions.  It was perfect.

The only thing left was a hot shave, which left his skin buttery smooth, and tingly once the aftershave was applied.  The barber briskly informed that all the items would be added to his order, so he’d have everything he needed to maintain his appearance.  Henderson thanked him shortly and was directed back to the dressing room.  The slippers were removed and a highly polished pair of black oxfords were slipped onto his feet.  He was redressed in shirt, tie, and jacket and Art began applying a few small touches.  First, his french cuffs were closed with shiny silver cufflinks, square, with a delightful HHH cut in them.  A white handkerchief was tucked into his breast pocket and folded ever so carefully so that the monogrammed HHH was just visible over the jacket.  A dab of cologne followed, smelling woody, leathery, and astringent.  They informed him he could leave today with undergarments, ties, and grooming products, and to return in three days to pick up a large order, twelves suits, twenty four shirts, plus two speciality suits (one in seersucker and a formal black) in addition to a tuxedo.  He shook hands with the salesmen who had helped him, feeling quite pleased with the whole experience.

-----

“Heart, Henderson,” he said curtly to the well dressed guard at the gate.  Henderson noticed that he was far less chatty than last time.  In fact, the security officer barely seemed to register Henderson as a person, and more as an item line to check off.  He marched dutifully to the elevator.  Henderson admired himself in the mirror as he waited.  Quite frankly, he embodied everything a man should be: big, strong, soon to be rich.  Those commission checks had added up quite quickly, combined with incentives and the fact that Amplebottom had been hinting that he would be moving up to Associate very soon, so Henderson was feeling mighty pleased with himself, and honestly a bit haughty, as he slipped how hands up and down the tasteful braces holding up his trousers.  Despite the fact that his clothing hardly moved an inch in any given direction, he still unconsciously attempted to pull up his pants and underwear, making sure everything was in place.  It was a big day after all.

Mr. Amplebottom took John Howard and Henderson out to a large lunch in a company car that was clean as a whistle and beyond luxurious.  As they stepped out of the Partner elevator, they were greeted by a strapping man in a full chauffeur outfit, cap, gloves, and jodhpurs.  He greeted the men properly before taking Amplebottom’s keys and practically running to fetch his car.  He held the door open militantly as each man entered.  Henderson stopped to give him a good look, there was something familiar about him.  Henderson realized this was the old door man from his side, although the corporate makeover and more servile uniform gave him a less threatening appearance, and his empty obedience was a far better look than the military scowl and tattoos that were once visible.

The car took them downtown.  Amplebottom had made casual conversation about work but the atmosphere in the car was mildly tense.  Henderson had never been invited to something like this and he wanted to make a good impression.  John Howard seemed rather himself, upright and professional, nary a mention of personal life unless questioned.  

They exited the car and Amplebottom led them into a high rise building with black reflective glass covering the outside, making it look kind of like a supervillain’s lair.  They rode the elevator up, stopping at the 6th floor.  Unfinished with not even a desk or chair in site, they ambled over to the window and looked out.  They weren’t high enough to have a great view of the city, but they did overlook one particularly small building below.  Police had cordoned off a section as a throng of protestors with signs seemed to be confronting them.  Behind the police, by the building, were construction workers.

“I thought you’d want to see the results of your hard work,” Amplebottom said slyly.  John Howard and Henderson stared down curiously as the protestors seemed to get louder.  He hadn’t been here in so long, Henderson was unsure what he was looking at.  The chintzy building was old and surrounded by expensive real estate.  His mind began wondering how much the lot was worth and who could possibly own it when John Howard spoke.

“Cherub Theatre,” his voice was different than usual, quicker and lighter.  Amplebottom smiled.

“The future site of Hemple Housing Porter,” he gloated.  “And it’s all thanks to you.”  John Howard seemed uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot.  Henderson just looked quietly.  Then something happened.  The entire building shook and collapsed.

“Well, it wasn’t very grand, I admit.  But that’s the start!” Ample said happily.  He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out two envelopes and handed one to each of the men.  Henderson opened his tenderly, wondering what awaited him.  It was a very formal letter, on thick paper, declaring his promotion to Associate with a new salary of 400k a year, four percent commission, and a new set of company perks.  Henderson practically came inside his briefs and when he looked at Amplebottom he was holding out his hand.  Henderson accepted the firm handshake happily.

“Wow,” John Howard spoke quietly as he read the letter.

“Surprised?” “Yes, I, thank you, Sir!” John Howard’s momentary trepidation was gone, replaced with a beaming smile and he shook both their hands with the energy of a toddler on redbull.

“You’re a little young, to be honest.  But I think you’ve demonstrated a dedication and promise that will benefit Hemplebaum for years to come.  And Hemplebaum rewards good employees, Junior Partner John Howard Johnson.” Amplebottom emphasized the last bit so Henderson understood.  J.H. had just moved into a whole new income bracket.  A whole new way of seeing the world.  There had been some trepidation, some fear, as he had looked at the theatre, but now all he saw were profit margins.

“I'm starving.  There’s a great steakhouse nearby.  I say we get some prime rib and bourbon and have a toast.”  The three fatasses business men strutted out of the building, richer and more content than ever before.

-----

Things had progressed really well for Henderson.  He was now a member in good standing at Rolling Acres Country Club, which meant he’d been bumped up from guest to groomsman at John Howard’s oversized wedding.  Apparently, everyone and their dog walker’s best friend had been invited, so long as their net worth was greater than John Howard’s.  Which is how Henderson found himself, sitting in an auxiliary dressing room with the rest of the groom’s party, in nothing but their skivvies getting toasted hours before the ceremony.  John Howard himself was maintaining a pretty stoic demeanor, but several of the groomsmen were going whole hog.

“Just brilliant, J.H.,” Rip patted John Howard on the shoulder again, his eyes were slightly unfocused.

“Careful, you’ll be unconscious before the ceremony,” came a stern warning for their co-worker Bert.

“Imma juss wishing my buddy all the damn- happiness in the world!  Hopefully, your marriage is happier than mine!”  Rip sat down clearly woozy.  Rumor around the club was that his wife did not “approve of his dalliances” like he had hoped.  He’d recently spent some time warning the college boys about the value of pre-nups.

“Have some water, Rip,” Chadwick said, forcing a tall glass of sparkling water into his hands.  Even though it was John Howard’s day, Chadwick did a great job of ensuring he was generally at the center of things.  He’d been the best man, the bachelor party planner, the one who got everyone to relive fraternity induction by sitting around half naked drinking whiskey straight on a saturday afternoon.  There was something deeply fraternal about the thing.  Henderson could recall himself and a few dozen other young freshmen in a similar situation as their pledge master and rush chair had guided them through a vow committing them to the fraternity.

“I’m ready for another, not you Rip.  You’re sitting this one out,” came a highly affected male voice.  It belonged to Oswald V, practically a guest of honor.  John Howard had been absolutely beside himself when Oz had agreed to be a groomsman.  Henderson was happy for him.  J.H. was definitely a social climber and at Rolling Acres he could not do any better.  For his part, Oz was charming and congenial, born into a life of socializing and money, he had all the natural airs of an heir apparent.  

“So, I got the bridesmaid situation worked out,” Chadwick leaned into John Howard and Henderson.  “Missy was insisting on Kitty Bell being third, but I got her to swing her down the line and swap in Millie Cashon.  Oz doesn’t like her, but fuck him, he’s married.  So, Henderson, I got you set up with the hot one.  And the single one.”  Henderson looked bashfully at the floor as the other two stared at him.

“Oh, okay,” he sort of shrugged.

“Listen, Huck,” Chadwick had taken to calling Henderson “Huck” because apparently all men needed a nickname among brothers.  “This took a LOT of work on my part.  I’m not saying you have to marry her, but if you don’t get to at least second, I will consider you a waste.  Also, I owe Missy a doubles game of tennis now,” John Howard looked horrified at the prospect.  “So, J.H. is gonna have to slip into some tiny white shorts and I’m gonna deal with a ticked off aristocrat.  So have some fun!” Chadwick slapped Henderson’s shoulder in a paternal fashion as he returned to keeping up the fun in the room.  John Howard and Henderson made awkward eye contact for a minute.

“Sorry,” Henderson said sheepishly.

“She’s hot,” J.H. appraised.  “Dad’s not worth too much, but he does have some great boats.  Might as well make the most of it.”  He tipped his glass up to Henderson who met it solidly, producing a harsh click in the room.

“Here’s to J.H.!” Rip was attempting to make a toast, seemingly recovered from his drunken daze.  

“To J.H.-John Howard!”  Henderson polished off his drink and happily accepted a refill.  Without John Howard he never would have gotten a job at Hemplebaum, he’d never been sitting in this room, drinking liquor that cost more than a cable bill, planning on making an offer on a home in Chester, and planning on how to get into Kitty Bell’s dress tonight.  Cheers to J.H. indeed.

[inked-out-trees]

⭐ for The Keep Going Song? Thanks! :)

(anh i would die for you)

Thank you for asking! I am going to be talking about the whole thing because it's fun, and because there's not really many ~secrets~ within the text to ramble about, just little fun snippets!

I'll do it under a cut because I will definitely ramble. Woohoo!

I came across The Keep Going Song (the song) after my Lookout 3 Companion Playlist (& my spotify discovery) introduced me to the Bengsons. The effect was almost instantaneous - it's the kind of warmth I try to encompass in everything I do, and for the next few days I had it on repeat as I worked. This was around the time I was finishing my Lookout script, and I had been toying with the idea of writing a Cornleyverse fic after absolutely devouring all 10 fics in the tag. What I knew was that I wanted it to be sweet, I wanted it to pull them all together, and I wanted it to be a progression. Despite only having seen the Goes Wrong Show, jumping into the fandom made me want to dimensionalize these characters and give them a story beyond everything that had already occured.

I also watched Christmas Carol before / during the writing process, but to date I have not watched Peter Pan or the full-length TPTGW. My prior knowledge comes from Wikipedia, the delightul amateur TPTGW production on YouTube, a friend's excellent transcription of the Haversham Manor script, and tumblr meta analysis. I think I did a reasonable enough job pretending I knew what I was doing.

Let's get going!

I knew off the top that it was going to be vignettes - they would give me room to spread the story over the long period of time it takes for a group of people to grow into something resembling a family. Like I said in the original author's note, there was supposed to be more of the early, snippy days - but I got so focused on making them kinder that I found I couldn't properly write a fight. In hindsight, it probably would have been easier if I tried writing that first, but, well. Once I realized that it was too late. The alphabet idea came later, once I had them all finished: I wanted to organize them somehow, but numbers felt too open, too infinite - closing the story on an organizational endpoint was just really satisfying.

a - Every good story needs a good beginning.

c - Starting with the end of Peter Pan is my sneaky way of slipping past the fact that I haven't seen the earlier shows! The Max and Sandra storyline is just so sweet, and I wanted to let it exist a little bit in between our jump from Peter Pan to Christmas Carol. This vignette came so easily when I wrote it and I love love love the feelings and the tentativity about the whole thing.

f - This was actually the last vignette I wrote. I realized I needed some front-end padding because otherwise my angst plot came rather abruptly, and what better way? At this point, too, I was trying to bring in POVs from each one of our characters, and when deciding on Trevor's POV I thought the exasperation-excitement combination would be an excellent choice. It turns out Trevor is my favourite to write, mostly because I can find his voice a lot easier than some of the others - and probably also because I hold a lot of fondness and nostalgia for stage crew work. Also, I wrote most of this one on a long evening walk in the notes app on my phone. Fun fact.

h - I did my original idea slam in a draft tumblr post, and this one just says "birthday party but one without all the drama of christmas carol". And what do you know, that's exactly what it is! I definitely took the birthday party (in CCGW as well as in this fic) as a kind of proof that they really do like each other, if they're doing things like this and if they want to do things like this - and that theme of okay, they want to be here formed the basis for this part. I think it's exceptionally sweet that Dennis came looking for friends and ended up finding, well, something. And I popped in a little MMNI reference with "one of the Janines" - Backwards Janine? Frontwards Janine? Original Janine? Who knows! It's one of them!

l - The thing about this plot is that it's actually one of the first ideas I had when dreaming up this fic, and I couldn't quite let it go. The point was, what if I somehow split them up? How can they get on when half the society is out of commission? And the most reasonable way I could find to actually get half of them out of commission was the car accident. To be honest, this one is mostly filler - it's also the second vignette I wrote, and it found its birth in the email drafts of my work laptop.

m - Trying to map out this little plotline without overdoing it might have been the most difficult part of this fic, and I'm still not 100% sure I succeeded. This is our explanation for the unease from the vignette above, and it took me 3 rewrites before I finally found something that settled in my brain. "Dennis gets chased by a goose" might be one of my favourite lines in the fic though.

Also, putting these letters right next to each other made me feel really clever for no reason.

n - My Jonathan perspective also took a few stutter-steps in its beginning, but this one ultimately came from the promo video's reveal that Robert and Dennis live together, and me playing with the continual idea of the remaining cast members being rather unmoored in their injured castmates' absence. Robert in particular because I love his character and I love making him Feel Things(TM) (fun hint: this will also be a small theme in the new cpds fic I have in the works!) and I want to see so much from this odd relationship between him and Dennis. Obviously they have to tolerate each other if they are willingly roommates - how far can I go with that? I love how this one turned out.

o - All I have to say about this one is that I still really love the sweetness between these two, and they deserve the world. Also, at some point during writing this I was really caught up with how striking Dave's face silhouette is (don't ask) so that ended up making it in somehow.

q - Girls' Night is SO important to me. After all the work they've done to make these gals friends I needed to capture it, and a pleasant night in just made a lot of sense. This one is the home of a few of my headcanons - Annie has a chef roommate and Max does a lot of the cooking, thus the "neither of us are the usual household cooks" comments, and I also think they're at the point where they can joke about their previous failures (especially with these three together) so the nod to A Trial To Watch (my favourite gws episode) was so fun. Also, Waking Ned really is a silly pick-me-up of a movie - would recommend. Special thanks to CBC for giving us Canadians quality British TV alongside our occasionally questionable homegrown programming.

r - It wouldn't be a fic about progress and growth with this crew without a disheartening moment turned into gold. I wrote this one while barbecuing, another fun fact, and no joke the hardest part was figuring out what to name the play they were doing. I kept pace with the whole "Jonathan can't get onscreen" gag, which was personally hilarious and made me cackle as I wrote it, and the rest of it just felt good. I will always have a soft spot for comfort and reassurance in a story and getting to write it has just been an absolute delight.

t - This was one of my other unplanned vignettes. It was originally to fill out Robert's POV, but also to express a bit of how things have changed in Chris's attitude towards his cast - if there's one thing I would change from Mischief's characerisation thus far, it's this brand of almost-kindness that I consistently need to write him with. It takes the aftermath of the car accident and uses it to kind of make him understand - this is a valuable group of people and I don't want to lose it. But of course he's not the type of person to actually express that in any way, so I thought the frenetic hovering was a good way to get the point across. As well, the kind-of-bonding between Chris and Robert - the two of them are such powerhouses of insistent personality that conflict so easily but they've also got a more secret kind of friendship that deserves to be explored a little more. I really like this vignette and how it ended up portraying how they are around each other, how they really do know each other, especially when they're not fighting. Makes me soft.

w - This is the first vignette I wrote! I honestly didn't realize until writing this just how much I identify with Annie - best of both worlds re. crew and cast, a bit of tenacity regarding getting through things, overall personality - I just love her so so much. She also seems like the most sensible of the cast, so the collective "why are we really here?" moment with Trevor really spoke to me. I love their friendship, I love the kind of quiet vibe this vignette gives off - this is one of the ones I can feel most strongly, the one I can step into and exist inside. I also spent most of my old drama rehearsals and classes without shoes, so that had to make it in just by virtue of the sock brigade (me).

z - One thing I knew for sure since the inception of the fic was that it needed to end on a victory. I took the images I had of this victorious adrenaline, everyone together having a good time, kind of getting smashed, and karaoke (I really wanted the karaoke, for some reason) and went the obvious route: the wedding. Ending on Chris POV also felt so right - possibly because he's the one with the most growth in this fic - and getting to finally feel this triumph with him after all these other trials and tribulations was an absolute joy. The wedding hall, in my head, looks like the one my cousin used (it was at a zoo... my sister and I went on a night walk and heard a lot of screaming peacocks) and I definitely threw all my wistfulness, all my love for the characters I'd developed, and all my love for this fantastic fandom into this part. The incorrect lyrics that Annie sings are exactly what I think every time I hear that song, because I've never looked up the lyrics before and my brain likes to play Mad Libs with my super-questionable auditory processing. And the image of the ballroom staff getting really exasperated with them and shutting all the lights off came to me at night and is hastily scribbled on a sticky note (it's a wonder it's legible) but I still strongly believe that it's the perfect, perfect way to end. I still get the warm feelings when I reread this part, even now, after so many reads.

And, finally - our end quote is exactly what started this whole thing. What is this drama society if not a rough beginning? But the concept that we'll make it through, that we can just take a step and then another and it'll be okay because we're together... it's hard to describe just how much it means to me, to my place in the world, to the world itself. I think one of my rather consistent aims in writing, no matter what it is, is to be able to have this collective - characters that become family, people that are important to each other, this constellation to lean on - because it's all I can say for the human experience. It's probably quite a bit of wishful thinking (as I said to another friend, "I am apparently letting loose on all my repressed social feelings of the past year and shoving them into fics") and a sort of subconscious confirmation that if I write it, I can be it. So this force of understanding and kindness and ultimately good people helping each other through the world is something I can't help but include, something that means the absolute world to me.

I'm so glad to have been able to share this fic with everyone, and extra glad that it's been able to touch some people along the way. I've found such an incredible community in Mischief and coincidentally I think The Keep Going Song represents that warmth, too - the community I've been so lucky to exist inside, how we're helping each other along, step by step. What a beautiful thing to be a part of! Thank you for reading and allowing me to give you a bit of my heart. 💖💖

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (29)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

Having a good growing reputation in Roseville is a good thing. When you arrived here to open your café, you didn't expect to attract people in such a short time. And yet that's what happened. But who would have thought that one day you would be in the mayor's office? You pinch yourself mentally to wake up. Because honestly you don't believe it. Just as you still do not believe that Mayor Tallis came to your café, drank and eat in your café and is personally invited to come and see him in his office at the town hall a few days before. No, it's impossible.

And yet you are there. In the town hall. Waiting for the mayor to bring you in. According to his secretary, he had to make an important call before he received you. You didn't dare to believe it. And yet, it's coming. You don't know what he wants from you but one thing is certain; You are not likely to forget that day. You play nervously with your fingers, occasionally taking your phone to watch the time or go on social media. The more time passed, more the stress rose. After about ten minutes, the door of the mayor's office opened and the mayor came out, with a big smile on his face.

Marius Tallis has been caring for Roseville for 30 years. If at first there were few shops and inhabitants, he quickly changes things and made this dear little village more attractive. Despite his past sixties, He stood straight, his short gray hair, his thin face and his hazel eyes made him a man in full health and always as radiant with vitality. If only we could all be as fit at that age...

“Ah! Miss (y/n)! Please come in! Please excuse me for the delay but I had to make an important call and it lasted much longer than I had anticipated.” He said before letting you in, inviting you to take a seat.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Mayor, I understand perfectly. Being mayor involves a heavy responsibility and sometimes it’s better to take the time to discuss things and others than to rush.” you respond with a smile.  

“This is even more the case when you have been running a small town for 30 years. I have seen and evolved Roseville, and today it’s as I dreamed of it. I don't want to make it a metropolis or anything else, but just a small town that is welcoming to everyone. You must surely be wondering why I invited you to meet me in my office.”

“I must admit that this is quite a... surprising situation. In general, we are the ones who ask to see you when there is a problem, and not the opposite.”

He pressed the intercom button and asked his secretary to bring two coffees. After a few minutes she arrived with the tray in hand that she placed on the mayor's desk. The latter thanked her warmly and asked her a couple of things before letting her go back to work quietly. He handed you a cup that you accept, thanking him, and then sat down at his desk, taking his cup in hand to drink a sip of coffee.

“Miss (y/n), if I asked you to come to my office... it’s because I have a proposal to make to you. Since you came here, and opened your business, I have only heard positive reviews and compliments about you. Know that you have gained a flourishing reputation in a short time and this is quite rare in your field.” He said before gets up and to go to an old photo of the city hanging on the wall. “Since I've been running Roseville... I organize every year its... birthday if I can put it like that. Every year I celebrate the efforts I have managed to make as well as those of the inhabitants, to make Roseville the city as we know it and see it today. It’s an event that all the inhabitants want and so do I. My request is simple: I would like you to be the one who will take care of this year's pastries. You will have the field free as to which pastries you want to add to it. It's like... a huge banquet to which you bring sweetness and sugar. I know that what I am asking of you is important and that an event of this magnitude is new to you. You don't have to answer me right away, the festival is only for in 2 weeks. But I would be very honoured if you would agree.”

“Well, Mr. Mayor, I... I am very honored that you offer me to participate fully in this event... it's true that it's brand new for me... but you are not afraid that... that the Ghostface manifests itself? I suspect that it will be done during the day but... it's going to last very late I guess, and we all know that Ghostface is a man of the night.” you ask worried. This is the kind of event that Ghostface could easily blend into the crowd to spot his next victim... or come and see you.

“Don't worry about this, Inspector Wilhelm and his men will take care of the security of the event. Because unfortunately because of this... Ghostface, we forget the young delinquents who take advantage of it to spoil everything and aggress people. As for Ghostface, I place all my trust in our police to arrest him. No criminal is perfect miss (y/n), sooner or later the rider will fall from his horse. And the fool will be locked up.” he replied with a sincere smile.  

You nod, then the mayor escorts you to the entrance of the town hall, greeting you warmly. You, participate in the event of the city? While you have only been living there for a short time? It was unthinkable. And yet that's what's happening to you right now. But you have to think about it, that's why the mayor gives you time before giving an answer. The first thing you do is send a message to Jed. You have to warn someone of all this!

He replied that he was happy to hear the news, the Roseville Gazette would cover the event with other local newspapers. He does not assure that it will be him and his group who will take care of writing the article but he will come to see you. You can be sure of that. Jed is really adorable... even while working he finds a way to take time for you.

You go back to the café to discuss it with Amy and Corey. How will they react? they have just started their work that they find themselves with a great event on their shoulders. It would be a little selfish of you to impose that on them. We might as well discuss it with them. You will then decide.

“It's... it's serious??? The mayor himself asked you???” said Corey, shocked.  

“I can't believe it... I don't know what to say... I am speechless!” said Amy.  

“I haven't given an answer yet... but I know it's going to be a lot of work and...as you just started, I don't want to put you that much work and pressure right now.” you replied with a little smile.  

“You're kidding! On the contrary, we are ready! You realize, the mayor in person asks that it’s us, or rather you who takes care of the pastries for the Roseville Festival of this year! It is an honour and an unexpected opportunity!” said Corey excited.  

“Are you sure? It's going to be a lot of work! It's not a dozen people that we will serve but the whole city! or even more! We will have to redouble our efforts! understood?”

“Yes Madam!” said Amy and Corey at the same time.  

You're still talking a little bit to see what you could prepare for the festival. There are so many pastries that you could prepare, plus you have no limits according to the mayor! what to choose?  what to do? So much possibility! it must please everyone! you are going to propose several of them, but which ones is the question. You call the mayor to inform him that you accept his proposal. He was delighted to know that you will participate fully in the festival and informed you again that the event will be held in 2 weeks. This gives you plenty of time to prepare everything and think about what you are going to do. But the idea that Ghostface could be there, not knowing who he actually is scares you. And the worst thing is that it can really be anyone and he won't come and tell you it's him easily. He will pretend not to know you, will smile at you like a normal person.

Your whole body began to shiver thinking that you are going to talk to the one who has been harassing you since your arrival without even recognizing him. You, Amy and Corey give yourself an afternoon of rest. since you had an appointment with the mayor around 2pm, it’s not necessary to reopen for the afternoon. Fortunately, you had already informed the usual clientele via a sign that you would exceptionally close this afternoon. But at the income level, you have not lost your afternoon, given all the people you have had this morning, you can even tell yourself that you have made a profit.

You return home after performing your daily ritual at the shop, fear in your stomach. But you don't show it, you don't want to worry Jed... and you don't prefer to see him angry. Fortunately, this has never happened yet. The latter stood in front of your door, his angelic smile on his lips. But despite all your efforts, he noticed that something was wrong. He took you in his arms, hugging you while placing a kiss on your cheek and then on your lips.

“What's going on? Did you have a problem at work today?” he asks, passing his hand on your cheek.

“No, not at all on the contrary, we had a lot of people and we even made profits. I'm just a little tired that's all.” you simply answer.

“If there was a contest of the worst lie, you would win without problem. Tell me what’s wrong. Is it in relation to the mayor's proposal?”

“... Yes. I'm a little afraid that I'm not up to the task. You realize, I've only been here for a short time, he has more competent pastry chefs than me, and yet it is I who the mayor has chosen to participate in this year's festival. I have never participated in something so important, imagine that I miss everything? I'm going to pass for a fool in front of the whole city.” You replied. Of course, you’re lying, that's not what scares you, but you really don't want to worry Jed. Or make him angry.

“Hey, if the mayor asked you, it's for a good reason. Even though there are pastry chefs who have been here longer than you, it’s your pastries that people want to eat. And I'm one of them. So, you don't have to care about it, I know you're going to make it. And then you're not alone, you have your employees and... if need be, I would come and give you a helping hand.”

“Oh? would the great Jed Olsen be a fine pastry chef in addition to be a great journalist?” You replied with a laugh.  

“Hey you took pie twice the last time we had dinner together. So, you can say that I am... a god?” he responds with an innocent look.

“Very funny mr. god of pastry, we will see it on the ground with REAL equipment. In the meantime, I'm going to go rest a little and think about what cakes I'm going to do. How about you?”

“Well for once I'm going to go and rest too. with everything that's going on right now... I need to be fit. I know, "Jed Olsen taking care of him for once, it's a miracle," but it happens to me from time to time to think about myself.”

“I hope so. Good night Jed... I love you.”

“I love you too. Good night...” he says, heading to his apartment before he stops. “Oh, I almost forgot! You remember when we thought... that we had to move in together? Well, the apartment on the top floor is free and... it’s the size of our apartments combined so... I thought maybe we could take it? I talked to Mr. Lawson about it and told him that I would see with you.”

“I'll think about it. Thank you, Jed.”

You go home, without seeing the sneaky smile that was looming on Jed's face. You don't know what you're getting into... oh no, you don't know. You put your things down before going to your room, take clean clothes, and then you head to the bathroom to take a good shower. After that, you land in your sofa, a pencil and a notebook in hand, a recipe book placed on the coffee table. For 2 hours, you try to see what you could do, the pages of the notebooks darkening as you write, scratch, erase. But nothing suits you. Absolutely nothing.

“I don't see why you're looking for inspiration in these ridiculous books. I think for once... you could improvise, do something that bears your signature.”

You jump off the couch, pointing the pencil like a weapon at Ghostface. He sneered and approached you, with this approach of his own. This nonchalance that he possesses says a lot about him... just like his gestures.

“Oh my god...how scared I am, honey. Are you really going to hurt me with this weapon of mass destruction? Is this pencil as sharp as my knife?” he said ironically.  

“Shut your Mouth !  I'm tired of all the men in this city trying to charm me and take me for a weak ! Just like that damn server !” you said angry. 

You put a hand on your mouth realizing what you have just said. You just said, in front of Ghostface, that someone seduces you. What did you do?

“ There’s someone in this city that will taste my blade, if I find him. Thank you very much my angel, thanks to you, I have just found one more victim.”

“Don’t you dare...”  

“Or what? Are you going to report me to the police? For wanting to protect you, or even save you from a potential dangerous predator? remember : I fall, you fall too.”  Ghostface said, gently touching your cheek with his gloved hand before taking your face into his hands.

“ You know, I've already lost someone because of a bastard who had nothing to f**k about life, I won't let it happen again. You can count on that. I'm already nice enough to let Jed take care of you while waiting for you to drop him for me.”

He released you before heading with an assured step towards the window. He looked at you, and even if you couldn't see his face, you could imagine the anger and madness that was looming over his face.

“I had planned to spend time with you tonight but... in itself you just gave me a job. I'll find him... and when I know who he is... he will bitterly regret it.”

He disappeared out the window before you could say or do anything. You sit heavily on your couch, taking your face in your hands. What have you done? You have just offered Ghostface a new victim! even if he is just an idiot who tries and who already regrets his actions, he deserves more than death.

You have just signed the death warrant of a man.

And the worst... It's that deep down of your heart, you want it.

***

(In three days, I will be 23 years old. Time passes too quickly I didn't even see the year pass! Enjoy your youth as much as you can because given everything that happens, we do not see the time passing at a crazy speed. Once again, I would like to thank you for following the little potato that I am! I hope you’ll like this chapter like the others ones! Well, it's time for my brain to rest! Have a great weekend to you all! See ya!)

[bobathirstaccount]

You Are My Drug

Boba x fem!reader, not-so-slow burn to smut, plot-ish?

TW: unprotected sex, (sex) drug use, assault (unwanted handsy-ness; culprit gets comeuppance)

A/N: I wrote the sex scene while high on shrooms, let me know how it turned out?

***

You smiled at Boba as he walked past you, glancing into your face. You had a flirtation with him. You were almost not sure it was happening, but he had run his hand down your spine the other day, making you shudder and confirming his interest. You weren’t sure where that was going, but it was intoxicating nevertheless.

Fennec had left the palace for the day, leaving you mostly alone. The only other companions you had were Boba, Tor, and some droids. You regretted not going with her. You rummaged in the supplies room and came up with a bottle of expensive Tychonian wine. You grabbed a glass from the bar and went outside, in search of some fresh air.

The light scent of the desert met you. Hot sand and air. The suns beat down on you. You opened an umbrella and sat down with your treasure. You poured a glass and, saying “cheers” to no one in particular, took a sip. You tasted the wine, letting it roll over your tongue and sucking in some breath to aerate it. It was a nice blend. You settled in to your afternoon.

Halfway through the bottle you remembered that Tychonian wine was renowned for being exceptionally strong. You looked at the desert. It was a little bleary. You shrugged; you had nothing else to do but get drunk. You continued.

The bottle was gone and your head was on the table. It was much stronger than you thought. Much. Your head was already starting to ache. You sat up without any coordination and tried to rest your head in your hands. It took a second. Suddenly you realized you heard raspy, low laughter. You turned, annoyed. It was Boba. “It’s pretty strong,” you slurred. He nodded, “Are you okay?”

“Sure, just gonna sit here for the foreseeable future,” You shrugged slackly, feeling the alcohol in your system. “Do you mind company?” You shook your head while it hung in your hands. He sat next to you.

“You seem bored,” Boba said calmly.

You scoffed, “What was your first indication?”

“Why didn’t you go with Fennec?”

”I regret,” you said laconically, your head spinning in circles. He passed you a bottle of water. You took it without wondering too much about why he had it. Gulping the water down, you caught him watching you keenly. You ignored his stare. “Thanks for the water,” you slurred.

“It’s nothing.”

“What brings you to my rescue?”

He hmmmed in amusement. “Just saw you out here with that bottle.” You laughed, regretting the action as you did. “Wish I woulda saved you some. I really wish.”

“I’m sure there’s more. Perhaps you will leave at least one glass’ worth next time.”

“If I try to have a next time, smack it out of my hands,” you commented dryly.

“Do you want help to your rooms?”

You considered. It’d be nice to lay down, but it was so, so far. “I dunno if I can make it,” you said honestly.

“Do you want me to take you there?”

You didn’t know exactly what he meant, but found yourself saying yes. Suddenly you felt your body moving. You realized he had scooped you up into his arms. You looked at him, shocked. He smiled slightly. Too drunk, you laid your head on his shoulder.

***

You woke up with a pounding headache. You cracked one eye open, barely. You saw a glass of water and a bottle of pain killers. You smiled shyly. You gratefully swallowed down some medicine, and sank back down into bed, waiting for it to work. After about 30 minutes, you slowly got up. You were wobbly on your feet, but felt amazingly better compared to when you’d woken up.

You checked the time; it was 11PM. You changed clothes and went to find Fennec. You two usually had spotchka and a chat a session. You would not be partaking in the spotchka, but the conversation still interested you.

***

“There you are,” Fennec commented, looking up.

“I accidentally got sloshed earlier.”

She gave an easy laugh, “Boba mentioned you found some Tychonian wine and didn’t share.”


You winced. “Yeah, well I learned my lesson. How was Bestine?”

“Fine. Boring in fact. Just errand running.”

“Sounds incredible compared to what I subjected myself to.”

She laughed again. “Well next time, come with me. I’ll check with you before I go.” You smiled your thanks.

“We’re going to be reopening the pleasure floor in awhile. Only for ‘esteemed guests’ of Fett, of course.”

You looked at her, stunned. She shook her head. “No slaves. Paid dancers and musicians. Want to help run it? I don’t have time.” You nodded your assent. She dove into details. You tried to keep up with your addled mind.

***

Tor had ended up with managing the musicians, and you had the dancers. You were teamed up for your first joint meeting. “It’ll be great to work so closely together,” Tor said abruptly while you were going over pay rates.

“Sure,” you tried to continue. He scooted his chair closer to you. You were not going to tolerate this. You changed seats so you were now sitting across from him. He settled down and the meeting continued.

***

The meeting ended, you had bolted from the room, nearly bowling over a droid. You slowed your pace to a more dignified one and went to your meeting with the dancers you’d just hired that day. The orientation would be taken care of by a droid, but you wanted them to meet you on their first day. You wanted to be approachable. You smiled and laughed with them for a bit, then let the droid lead them on. Exhausted, you sat back in a chair. You thought about the store rooms and the wine. This time, you’d share your find with someone. You headed to the same room where you’d struck gold last time.

It didn’t take much effort to come up with an expensive brand of fire whiskey. It smelled like lighting a match across the room would ignite it. You smiled to yourself, an image of Boba flitting across your mind. You frowned, furrowing your brow. You initially had thoughts of sharing it with Fennec. It was still what you were going to do. You stuffed it under your armpit and walked out, knocking dust off yourself as you left.

You followed the corridor to the deck where you and Fennec drank together. You were definitely early, but that didn’t bother you. The two glasses clinked as you put them down. You poured yourself three fingers and sniffed it again. You felt like it was going to melt your face. You took an experimental sip. You sputtered, but got it down. You continued to sip, acclimating.

You heard voices and turned. It was Boba and Tor. Your heart leapt at Boba and your stomach dropped at seeing Tor. You were surprised they were having a tete a tete. Boba noticed you watching them and nodded at you. You smiled broadly. Tor made eye contact and smiled in a way you didn’t like. You turned back to your bottle, soured.

The suns started to set. You smiled, dusk was coming and that meant Fennec would be stopping by soon. You heard a noise and turned. The smile died on your lips. It was Tor. He was smoking something. He sat down next to you, uninvited. “Want some?” He inhaled and held it.

You eyed him. “Nah.”

“C’mon don’t be a square.”

You shook your head, “I’m already drinking.”

“What’re you doing out here, by yourself? It’s a shame.”

You ignored his presumptive gaze. “Waiting for Fennec. She’ll be along soon.”

“Well, until then I have you all to myself.” You pursed your lips, but said nothing. “It’s pretty romantic out here,” Tor leaned towards you. You shifted away from him, “Not really. It’s quite dusty and one of the suns is in my eyes.”

“Well scoot over here, the sun isn’t in my eyes. Just you.”

You rolled your eyes and stayed seated. “Why haven’t we gotten together yet?” He forged ahead.

You opened your mouth to insult him. Fennec appeared. You sighed in relief and motioned her over.

“What do we have going on here, guys?” Fennec settled in next to you.

”I was just romancing Y/N here,” Tor winked at you.

“It wasn’t going well,” You shot back.

Fennec laughed at Tor and lifted her glass in toast to you. You clinked your glass against hers. “Now what do you have there, Tor?”

“Just a spliff,” he offered it to her. She accepted and took a hit, passing it to you. You passed it back to Tor without partaking. You were not going to be forced to humor him. He licked his lips but said nothing. The three of you sat there, drinking and Tor smoking. Finally Fennec turned it into a business meeting and asked you both for status updates. You left early, annoyed with Tor’s intrusion. You stumbled through the hallways, aiming for bed. You turned a corner and nearly ran into Boba. “Sorry!” You exclaimed, overcorrecting into the wall. Your forehead smacked onto it. You took a step back, hands going to your wound. “Awh, fuck,” you half laughed, “you always seem to catch me in compromising situations.”

He hmmd at you. “You alright?”

“Yes, I’ll be... I’ll be fine... just going to bed.” You wandered off, embarrassed despite your level of intoxication. Boba followed you at a distance and watched you safely enter your room.

***

You watched the dancers work. It was the first night the club was officially open. The day had been particularly hectic. You were trying not to be, but you were stressed. You made eye contact with a bar tender, who waved you over.

“You look pressed; drink this,” he handed you a finger’s worth of something. You drank it down, then looked at the empty glass. “What was that?” You asked belated. He laughed, “Top shelf fire whiskey. Only the best for you, love. Now relax a bit. Everything is going fine.” You couldn’t argue that right now. You sat on a bar stool and nodded. He headed off to help a guest. You drummed your fingers on the bar-top, watching the night unfold. As the night grew later, the lighting grew dimmer and the guests wilder. Some had to be cut off.

You lazily looked around, pleased with everything. Suddenly you saw Fett, in his armor. He was speaking with some Twi’lek at a corner table. Fennec was at his side. You watched, wondering what would bring him to this level. He had expressed his mixed feelings regarding reopening it in the first place. You turned back to the bar and waved someone over. You asked for a bottle of spotcha and a glass. You leaned back and poured yourself a tall one, ready to relax.

Tor appeared at your side. You audibly groaned, but it was lost in the music. He offered you something smoking again. You turned to look at him, “And this is?”

”Just a spliff.”

You considered. It might be nice to have a hit or two to celebrate a good evening. You took the spliff from him and toked on it. Handing it back, you blew the smoke out of the side of your mouth, making eye contact with him. “Thanks,” you said. He gave you a weird smile and wandered off. You watched him, brow furrowed. Then you turned back to your drink and forgot about him.

After awhile, you started to feel strange. You did feel high, but you also felt something else. Heat was rapidly pooling in your nether regions. Your breath started to hitch. You looked around, pussy getting wet. You had to get out of public. A pair of eyes from across the room watched you as you took off.

You slipped out an entrance for the dancers and into their dressing room. You forced a smile at the few that were back there, and kept going. You snuck out the back into an empty corridor. You leaned against the wall, almost panting. You tried to focus on the sensation of cold seeping into your body from the stone. It didn’t work.

The door slid open again. It was Tor. You groaned to yourself; what a time to run into this asshole. He grabbed you by the chin and pulled your face to his, kissing you. By the time you had responded to that, he was already petting you through your pants. Revolted, you spit in his mouth and pushed him away. His touch had sparked a fire in you, and you doubled over, moaning.

“What the fuck was that for?” He asked.

“What the fuck, number one. Number two, what the fuck was in that shit you gave me?”

He smirked, “A Zeltron specialty.”

The pleasure planet? You punched him in the face, and spit on him again. “How dare you do that to me, without consent?” You screamed at him.

“Relax! It only lasts for 1 - 2 hours, and as long as you have a partner, it’s a great ride.” He reached for you. You shoved him as hard as you could, and he fell backwards, tripping over himself. You used the opportunity to walk back through the door you’d just exited. You made sure to stomp on him as you did.

Panicked, you jogged through the locker room back into the club. You’d just leave the main way now, but you hoped to do so without encountering anyone. Your pussy clutched around nothing, and you bit back a moan. You bypassed a couple dancers and droids who looked like they were going to talk to you. You were almost at the entrance when you encountered the Twi’lek party. They were departing for the evening. You got sucked in. As you walked through the exit, a hand grabbed you.

You turned around, baring your teeth in anger. You met Fett’s helmet. Your look turned to confusion. Embarrassed, you turned around to compose yourself. Then, you slowed your walk to allow him to step beside you. “Hate to be whoever you thought I was,” he intoned, amused.

“Tor,” you spat out.

“Well that’s an HR issue,” he commented dryly.

You tried to compose yourself. Tor wouldn’t get the best of you. “He’s just such a jackass, you know?”

Boba turned to you. You became aware of your pulsating pussy. “He is, sort of,” he admitted, in a quieter tone only for the two of you, pulling you nearer him by your forearm. You snorted, despite yourself. You let him pull you closer, enticed by your predicament. Your breathing was like you were walking up a steep hill. You tried to level it out before anyone noticed your chest heaving. Boba turned from you to give his farewells. You stood there, not sure if you were dismissed and in agony. Your felt your arousal oozing out of your pussy. “Will you walk with me?” Boba asked, turning back to you. You nodded, doomed.

He took your forearm again and led you away from the departing Twi’lek. You sighed audibly. “You okay?” He asked. “Yup!” You responded awkwardly. He released your arm. Your pussy clutched as you wondered how big his cock was and what it would feel like for him to slide into you. You walked silently imagining. “Are you listening?” Boba nudged you.

“Huh? No, sorry.” Your eyes flicked to your reflection in his visor. “What were you saying?”

“Nothing important, just who those idiots were,” he gestured behind him. You bit your lip as you felt the fabric of your dress rubbing against your nipples. What would his tongue feel like on them? You moaned softly as your pussy clutched again.

“Huh?”

“Oh, n-nothing.” You imagined him biting your throat.

He turned to dip into a doorway and you followed him. You watched as he removed his helmet. His eyes met yours. “That’s better.” You stared at him, mouth slightly ajar. You realized and closed it awkwardly. He pulled his gauntlets off and set them aside. “You sure you’re okay?” You watched him remove his cuirass and turn towards you. You saw your hand reach out to touch his chest. “What—?” He looked at you, questioningly.

You found yourself kissing him. Two strong hands grabbed you by the shoulders. He pulled you back to look at you. Your pupils were dilated in lust and your chest was heaving. You wondered aloud how big his cock was. Your eyes widened, but he said, “You wanna see?” You nodded, relieved. You started to pull at his clothing.

“Here?” He said laughingly. You pussy clutched and you moaned. You pushed your body flush against his and tried to kiss him again. His lips met yours. You moaned into his mouth and jumped into his arms. He kissed you feverishly. You were surprised by his fervor. He turned and set you on a table. Then he started to undo his pants. You pulled at your maxi dress, trying to get it up to your hips. He assisted you eagerly. His lips were roughly on yours again. You moaned and spread your legs obscenely. His hands roamed your body, gripping and squeezing your curves. You made an overwhelmed noise and licked his face. He responded by sweeping you into a hungry kiss. He greedily pulled your dress out of the way and you felt him at your entrance. “Oh Maker, please, Boba,” you panted. He pulled your ass towards him, impaling you on his cock. You cried out as his tip stretched you out. He stopped and pulled out, then pushed back in.

“Oh please, please, Boba,” you shamelessly continued to pant. You licked his tongue and kissed him passionately. He grabbed you by the throat and fucked up into you, grunting as he did. You instantly came, pulsing and calling his name repeatedly. He groaned, surprised at the intensity. He started to fuck your pussy as you came and called out. “Hn, gonna cum,” he pulled out, replacing himself with three fingers.“No, no, no,” you prayed at him. He plunged back into you, grunting.

“Fuck me like an animal,” you pleaded. He bit you savagely, pulling out. He flipped you over and pulled your dress up, revealing your ass and pussy. “Please, please,” you spread your legs, up on your tippy toes. You felt him circle your pussy’s entrance. “Boba, please,” you begged. He slammed into you, grunting. “Oh please, please,” you continued to beg. He pulled out and slammed back into you, setting a brutal pace. You keened, taking his cock. “Boba, please, fuck me, oh fuck me,” you panted, cumming on his thick cock. He grunted, “Gonna cum.” He pulled out again.

“No no no no,” you called. He plunged back into you again, calling out your name. “Yes yes yes, Boba yes,” you trilled. He fucked you desperately, panting and making all kinds of noises. “I wanna feel you cum in my pussy, oh please, please cum in me,” your pussy clamped down on him as you breathed your plea. He stilled, deep in your pussy, grunting and panting. You felt his cock spasming, “Yes yes yes, Boba yes.” You did a kegel, making him grunt again. “Fuck, oh fuck,” he breathed. He pulled out of you and slapped your ass cheeks. You moaned. “Please, more, more.”

“More? You want.. more?” He sounded husky, low. His tongue entered your pussy as his thumb found your clit. He moaned into you, making you call out, “Oh, Maker, please Boba please!” He continued his ministrations into your spasming pussy. He added three fingers, fucking you furiously. You came on his fingers, going limp and whispering his name. The pleasure you were experiencing was unparalleled. Your dream lover was fucking you senseless. And you couldn’t stop cumming on whatever he stuck in you.

He pulled away from you. You called out and looked behind you, making frantic eye contact with Boba. He returned your gaze, level. His cock appeared at your entrance. “Oh yes, Oh Maker, please fuck me.”

“What do you want?” His voice was low, husky, strained.

“Fuck my hole, Boba, please let me cum on you,” you panted, crying. He started to fuck you, grunting and groaning as he did. In several minutes he grunted, desperate above you. Your pussy clamped down on him, pulsing. He stilled deep in you, calling out your name. Finally exhausted, you started crying intermittenly. He pulled out and turned you around, pulling you into his strong embrace.

”Tell me what to do,” he said. “Nothing,” you snuggled into him. “I’m perfect, don’t mind my crying. It just means that I’m happy.” You continued to weep softly. He smiled into your hair and kissed you. The two of you rested for a moment, then he asked, “What brought this on?” You laughed, embarrassed. But then you said the truth, “It’s been coming to you for awhile.”

“I’ve been waiting for awhile.” You looked up, surprised. “Really? Me that much?”

“Of course. I thought I was making myself clear. I only want you.” You exhaled, surprised at his statement as well as his honesty. “How come?” He smiled slightly, “Give yourself more credit.” You snuggled into him, sniffling. “Me too,” you admitted. “I mean, I only want you too.” He kissed your forehead. After another moment, you broke apart to readjust your clothing.


“Will you come with me to my rooms?” He asked softly. You smiled and nodded, looping your arm through his. As the two of you took off, you turned to him, “You ever hear of Zeltronian spliffs?”

[dreamescapeswriting]

Burnt With Envy ~ JJK [Request]

↬↬↬Word Count: 2.7k

↬↬↬Genre: Fluffy, angst,

↬↬↬Pairing: Jungkook x Gender Neutral Reader

↬↬↬WARNINGS: Mentions of plane turbulence, house fire, smoke inhalation [PS Sucky title because M sucks at titles] 

↬↬↬ A/N: No name for the daughter as I know a lot of you like that, also I didn’t want to make it like a huge car accident or something so I went in a different way I hope this is okay for you my love! Stay Safe! Love you!

The plane ride you were on seemed to be taking forever, you were flying home after a long business meeting with your husband Jungkook who was now sitting on the phone to someone about the meeting - you didn't pay too much close attention to his side of the business as it never really interested you. Your daughter was curled up on your lap as you sat on one of the sofas inside of the private jet, one of the many joys of Jungkook being the CEO of many businesses. Never having to fly on a normal plane again.

"Look I don't care, give them whatever they want as long as they sign the papers tonight," You heard Jungkook sigh from across the plane, his eyebrows were strewn together and he was rubbing the bridge of his nose - a sure sign that he was stressing about something going on in his life.

"Yes, I'll hold." He turned around to glance at you so you gave him a small smile not wanting to bother him while he was working, as soon as his eyes landed on you and his daughter his eyes softened. Seeing the way you both looked together made him instantly relax, it was why he took you along on his business trips - that and he wanted his daughter to be able to see the world and learn from it. She was only 14 but could already speak 3 languages, Korean, English and French with the occasional bit of Japanese she had picked up on business trips.

"Everything okay?" You questioned when he hung up the phone and came over to you, he sat on the arm of the sofa next to you and nodded his head bending down to give you a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

"Just some more details to go through but everything's fine, how did her homework go?" He asked nodding his head down at the papers that were on the table in front of you, you scoffed leaning forward to pick up the different sheets of homework she'd been working on.

"She didn't need my help - as usual." You laughed, your daughter had always been exceptionally smart at everything she put her mind to but this homework was all about businesses. She had to create a fake brand and branch out with it, all within a fictional budget and timeline.

"She gets it from her dad," You whispered when Jungkook asked where she got it all from, you both knew it was impossible since she was adopted but you still liked to think that somehow she still got traits from both of you as her parents because that's what you were. Adopted or not she was your daughter.

"I think she'll take over everything when I die," He chuckled sliding in behind you on the sofa and wrapping his arm around your waist and snuggling his head into your neck.

Everyone saw Jungkook as a big CEO no one should mess with but deep inside he was just as soft as anybody else and wouldn't dream of hurting anyone - many people in his company knew it as well since he'd always been too scared to fire anyone, he never wanted to hurt someone's feelings which was odd. A CEO like him with a big heart was uncommon in the world, most of them didn't care for their employees but Jungkook did, he got to know most of everyone who worked for him, tried to relate to them in any way that he could and would help them if they ever needed it. The plane jolted and you gripped onto your daughter with one arm and Jungkook with the other, he hissed when he felt it do it once again.

"Sorry Sir, just a little trouble. One engine caught fire, we'll be okay until we land on your airstrip." You looked at the stewardess who had just come out of the cockpit to tell you both what was happening, luckily it was nothing major and you could both move on from it.

"Is the captain sure everything's okay?" She nodded slowly looking at all of you, she'd been working for Jungkook for the last four years and she was always pleasant when she worked on your flights.

"Everything is fine, he's assured me that we'll be fine until we land in ten minutes. After that, he'll have the engines repaired."

"Is dad okay?" Your daughter asked as you tucked her into her bed, the plane landed perfectly fine and it was being looked at by a professional but Jungkook was shaken up. Nothing had ever happened like that before, all of his planes were routinely checked by professionals, even if he wasn't flying anywhere he had them looked at to make sure nothing was wrong or could go wrong.

"He's okay baby, just a little worried about something. Don't worry about it, he loved your homework though." You soothed down the bedsheets and sat on the edge of her bed while you looked down at her, you began playing with her hair softly placing it behind her ear to make her sleepy again.

"He did? I was pretending to be him while I..." She yawned halfway through her sentence and closed her eyes - you'd learnt the hair trick from your grandmother who used to put you to sleep the same way.

"While I gave the presentation to my stuffed animals." You laughed softly as she fell to sleep almost right away, she'd always been able to do that though. One second she was awake and the next she was out like a light, it helped that she was a heavy sleeper too luckily she'd slept through the plane shaking and jittering around as you landed back on safe ground.

"Just call me when you have answers," His tone was authoritative as he hung up the phone and threw it down onto the double bed you were sitting in, you were in his favourite PJ's on you trying to convince him that everything would be fine when in reality you had no idea if it would or wouldn't be, you were just trying to make your husband relax before he had an aneurysm in front of you. He collapsed onto the bed in front of you and you began playing with his black hair, it was starting to get long enough for you to be able to put it into a man bun again - you used to do it all the time in college when you first started dating, you would put it in all sorts of styles but man buns were his favourite.

"You need a haircut," You mumbled pushing his head away as he tried to give you a kiss,

"I know, I'll fit one in tomorrow. How are you? Are you okay?" He'd been freaking out in the inside for hours about how you were feeling during the plane but you were fine, it was nothing major.

"I'm fine Kookie, I would be even better if my husband got into bed with me and stopped worrying," He sighed knowing you were right, he ran his hands through his hair before standing up from the bed,

"I'll have a shower and get into bed, will you turn the heating off? It's boiling in here." He groaned fanning himself as he tried to cool down, he was right though. The house had been exceptionally hot since the moment you got in and you were sure the heating was broken,

"I'll go shut it off at the boiler." You told him as you threw your legs off the bed and slipped into some slippers, he hummed at you from the en-suite and you made your way down the giant spiral staircase.

Most of the staff that Jungkook had working around the house were at home except for the live-in maid he had with you guys, she was tucked up in bed down by the living room and you didn't want to bother her with asking for help with the boiler. It was no big deal, you knew where it was and what you were doing, you just hated going down into the creepy basement that it was kept in.

Jungkook stirred beside you kicking off the sheets as you let out a cough,

"I thought you turned the heating down." He grumbled sitting up in the bed when his eyes widened, his nose was filled with smoke and there was smoke pouring in from underneath the door,

"Y/n! Get up!" You groaned opening your eyes to see what the big deal was when you smelt and saw the smoke as well, the smoke was starting to cloud which meant the fire was large.

"Go!" You screamed pushing him out of the door of your bedroom, you began coughing as the fire crackled from down the stairs, it was spreading its way along the living room floor, Jungkook sprinted in the direction of his daughter's bedroom while you tried to see what was starting the fire.  The house was like something from a horror movie, everything was burning way too quickly, the plastic photo frames on the walls were all twisting and melting onto the floor and nothing was going o be saved.

"Y/n?! We have to move now!" You could hear your daughter coughing heavily and it brought you back to reality,

"Fire escape in your home office!" You were yelling to one another over the sound of the fire, you could smell chemicals and burning - of course burning, your house was on fire.

"Where are you going?!" He screamed watching as you made your way to the staircase, your feet could hardly touch it thanks to the heat radiating from downstair, it made the metal barely touchable.

"The maid! Jihoo! She's downstairs Kookie!" You were tearing up at the thought of her being hurt in something like this, you ignored Jungkook's pleas for you not to go down there and sprinted down the stairs pushing through the pain in your feet,

"GO! GET OUT!" You screamed at him, he clung onto your daughter who was starting to cough harder now, he could hear the firetrucks outside so he made a run for the office going out of the window and taking his daughter down the staircase out there.

"Jihoo!" You yelled, letting out a squeal when a flame danced out of control and began spreading closer to the bedroom door where she was staying.

"JIHOO!" You knew it was an invasion of privacy but right now it didn't seem important to you, she'd been working for you and Jungkook for years and was one of your most trusted employees.

"J-Jihoo?!" You spluttered out covering your mouth as you tried not to inhale too much smoke from the fire but she wasn't there, her things were gone. The room began to build up with black smoke and you groaned trying not to inhale it but it was filling up your lungs and making it harder for you to breathe.

Sirens were blaring loudly as you woke up, your eyes fluttering open as you were blinded by a bright white light,

"Ugh what the-" You stopped talking when you heard Jungkook's voice coming out in a panic,

"They're okay Mr Jeon, we just need to run some checks on them." You turned to see a paramedic looking at you and flashing a bright light into your eyes, for a second you thought you were a goner when you saw the white light.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Jeon Y/n," He nodded and began asking you routine questions but your mind was on Jungkook and your daughter who was under one of those tinfoil blankets to help with shock. People were crowding around your house as the firefighters worked tirelessly to put it out, everything was gone. All the memories you had in the house, photographs, videos, everything was just gone and in a pile of ashes and rubble. There was a cold compress on your feet, you looked down to see what the paramedic was doing when he caught you looking,

"Your husband said you ran down metal stairs, we wanted to make sure your feet had no lasting damage. You're all okay except for a cough and some smoke inhalation. You'll be fine," He walked away as though your whole life wasn't just destroyed in one giant housefire that no one knew the cause of,

"Did you get to Jihoo?" You shook your head and went on to explain how she wasn't there and neither were her things, he frowned looking around for something.

"What's wrong?" You questioned but he wrapped the shock blanket around your daughter before walking over to a firefighter and getting into a lengthy discussion about what the fire was caused by.

It took 7 hours for them to battle the blaze and put it out, the sun had come out and a nanny had taken your daughter to a hotel to have a bath and get some rest while you and Jungkook stayed behind.

"There's nothing," You whispered looking through the rubble of what was once your house, the only thing that had lasted through the blaze was the metal staircase you'd sprinted down. Jungkook could tell you were getting upset so he stood behind you wrapping his arms around you to let you know it was okay, he was there and you weren't going through this alone.

"They think Jihoo was the one to start it all before leaving," You nodded knowing that it was probably true since she'd been the only other person in the house with extensive knowledge as to where anything was, it would have been easy for her to grab the accelerant used to make it burn faster and make it out alive with all of her things, the only real question was why she'd done it.

"Think it was because of something we did?" Your voice cracked as Jungkook walked you back onto the street, Police were combing through everything they could to find any kind of evidence they would need.

"We'll figure it out, I'm sure it was nothing we did. We loved her," He used his thumb to wipe away the tears from under your eyes and you sighed laying your head on his chest as you watched people begin to clean up what was left of your home.

"We hereby find the defendant guilty of arson, and guilty of attempted manslaughter." You looked down at your hands as the jury sat back down and the judge agreed with their verdict and began reading off the charges that Kim Jihoo was being charged with. Jungkook had his arm around your shoulder as a sign of support as she turned around to watch you both closely, her reasoning behind everything she'd done was because she'd been crazily obsessed with Jungkook for years and once she realised she could never get what she wanted, she wasn't going to let him be with anybody else.

"Take her away," The judge yelled, she turned back to the front and followed the police out while her chains rattled against the floor your eyes were downcast at your hands while Jungkook tried to comfort you. It was all over so you weren't going to have to worry about her coming to try it again but you still felt scared whenever you went to bed or hired someone new. There was a new policy being brought in to make larger background checks on everyone who worked for Jungkook, he didn't want to put his family at risk again but he was going to get you all through it.

"Let's go, we have a meeting with our daughter." He chuckled bringing you back to reality, your daughter was waiting back at the hotel you were staying in. She was going to give you her final presentation for her business project so you had something to keep you distracted for now.

"Going to be a CEO just like her daddy." You laughed walking with him in the direction of the parking lot.

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies​ @jooniesdarlingdimples​ @snowy-meowl​ @lynnthevirgo​ @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @fan-ati--c​ @callingmyangel​ @rjsmochii​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​ @innersooya​ 

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 65 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Chapter 65 seems like a good time to tell you that there’s nothing we love more than talking to you guys about this story! We are both on tumblr (@theartificialdane and @veronicasanders) and we’d love to hear from you!! We also have other Galactica content there under the “galactica” and “galactica wardrobe” tags. XOXO!! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Bianca threw a wrench in the annual holiday party when she brought Courtney as her date, and Katya tried to (not) deal with her surprise pregnancy.

This Chapter: Miss Fame and the team work on the final lineup for the spring runway, and Katya figures some things out.

***

It was Violet’s luck that she was a light sleeper, the first note of her alarm barely ringing before she had grabbed her phone from under her pillow and turned it off.

There really wasn't a need for Violet to wake up at 6, for her to start her day so early since she couldn’t go to the gym because of her ankle, but habits were hard to break, and she liked how quiet the world was in the morning, how it felt like she was the only one awake.

She wasn’t hungover, had barely had a drink because of her crutches, but she had a feeling all of her coworkers would be wearing sunglasses and asking each other to shut up, the Friday after the Christmas party always an experience.

Sutan’s bedroom was dark, his curtains swallowing the ever present lights of Harlem, the man asleep next to her, his head resting on his pillow.

It took everything in Violet not to reach out and run her fingers through his hair.

She had been so annoyed with him last night, so uncomfortable in the beautiful red dress she had bought with his money, the simmering anger not leaving her until she had felt Sutan’s clever fingers undo the zipper on her back, skin against skin finally freeing her from the smoldering fire.

“Stop staring at me.” Violet froze, Sutan’s voice deep with sleep.

“I’m not.”

“Oh?” Sutan cracked an eye open, a smile playing on his lips as he reached out, grabbing her hip on top of her blanket. “Could have fooled me.”

“Well,” Violet smiled back, allowing him to pull her in, “Maybe I was. A little bit.”

***

As her alarm sounded, Courtney groaned, burying her head into Bianca’s neck. Bianca laughed, reaching over to hit snooze, giving them a few more precious minutes in bed before Courtney had to get up.

Bianca had never been much of a morning person, but she’d discovered that, in many ways, this was her favorite part of the day. When the world was dark and still, and they were curled together under the covers, naked and warm. She trailed her fingers up and down Courtney’s back, pressed a kiss to her temple.

“You okay, sunshine?” Bianca asked.

“Mmmhmm...I just don’t want to go to work.”

Bianca smiled, one hand settling into the curve of Courtney’s waist, enjoying the way they fit so perfectly together.

“Then don’t,” she stated, warming up to the idea of taking a day off, just the two of them. “Call in sick.”

“I wish,” Courtney scoffed, a deep sigh leaving her. “But I can’t, so…”

“Why not?”

“The day after a party? Everyone will think I have some crazy hangover.”

“Yeah, so?” Bianca laughed.

“Plus, I’m pretty sure Miss Fame is less than pleased with me right now. I don’t want to give her any reason to be annoyed. And there’s a big meeting to decide on the spring runway, and I have to-”

“Alright, alright...forget I suggested it,” Bianca said, holding up her hands in surrender. “I just really liked the idea of spending all day in bed with you.”

Courtney raised herself up on her elbow, gazing down at Bianca with a dreamy smile on her face.

“Maybe, um...can we do that tomorrow?”

“You’re on, angel,” Bianca said, reaching up to run her fingers through her hair.

“And...we still have about seven minutes before the alarm goes off again.” Courtney brushed her lips against Bianca’s neck, murmuring, “You wanna go back to sleep, or…?”

“Hmmm...” Bianca cocked her head, pretending to think. “I may have some other ideas…”

Courtney let out a delighted squeal as Bianca flipped her onto her back with a wicked grin.

***

Maxwell groaned as a loud clatter sounded through the design floor.

“Sorry!” Kiara whisper-shouted, quickly picking up the pair of scissors she had dropped. Trixie had gone to the department head meeting about 20 minutes ago, which meant that everyone had given up the pretense that they were working. Alexis had gone straight for the couch to take a nap as soon as the door had closed behind him, April still nursing a terrible-looking green smoothie at her desk. “Sorry everyone!”

“Don’t even think about it girl!” Bob smiled, his phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear, and Maxwell groaned again, sliding down so he could rest his head on his arms, Bob chatting away.

He loved his boyfriend, he really did, but there were few things more annoying than when Bob had managed to get into any tabloid, the perceived fame of it always going directly to his head. And of course, it was made even worse by his friends and family back home in Georgia playing right into it, acting as if it meant anything at all.

“Listen, I didn’t ask to be born fabulous, but it’s my cross to bear, and I’m-” Bob laughed, adding, “Exactly!”

“He’s really getting into it, huh?” Maxwell looked up to see Violet standing next to his desk, looking over at Bob, Jovan at her side holding three cups of coffee.

“Here,” Jovan smiled, giving one of them to Maxwell, the scent filling his nose.

“Oh god I love you,” Maxwell grinned, taking the liquid magic. It was probably not healthy to be on his third cup already, but he didn’t care.

“Love you too boo,” Jovan grinned, taking a seat on the edge of his desk, Violet doing the same, balancing her crutch so she could take her own cup. They didn’t talk, and Maxwell loved that, Violet fitting so nicely into their little boys club that he barely even thought about the fact that she was a girl and straight most days.

***

“Pearl! Pay attention!”

Pearl snapped out of it, the wheels of her chair squeaking as she moved, her eyes wide open at the commanding tone in Fame’s voice.

“Sorry!” Pearl sat up straight, Bendela hiding a snicker behind a sketchbook, her brown eyes clearly filled with delight over Pearl getting reprimanded.

“God,” Fame rolled her eyes, her hand on her hip, her outfit of the day a white cropped cashmere sweater and white linen high waisted pants, her blonde hair in a high delicate updo, a golden belt snug around her waist. “Did anyone come to work today?”

If they had been alone, Pearl would have opened her mouth to point out that she was the one who always arranged for the Christmas party to be on a Thursday, but they weren’t, so Pearl kept her mouth shut.

“Fame,” Raja’s voice was warm, and it apparently functioned just as intended, her tone a soothing balm on whatever had Fame into such a tizzy. “We’re almost done.”

If Pearl had to make an educated guess, she’d say it was probably the whole Courtney and Bianca thing, though it could be anything from her breakfast grapefruit not being ripe to morning traffic to a photographer catching a bad angle of her last night.

“You’re right,” Fame sat back down, sliding her chair over to Trixie. “So, fourth look. What do you have?”

“I was thinking about these pants?” Trixie held out a sketch, and Pearl folded her hands over her stomach, watching her best friend do his job exceptionally well.

Fame tapped her fingers against the table, french tips hitting the wood and Pearl made a mental note to see if she could sneak in a visit to Fame’s office, providing their boss with an orgasm before lunch a great Christmas gift to everyone in the company.

***

V-List Alert: BDR’s Latest Blonde Bombshell

[Pictured: A large photo of Bianca and Courtney kissing on the red carpet, along with a few smaller shots of them looking giggly and affectionate. And lastly, a grainy, low-res photo of them on the street after the event, kissing while a driver is opening the car door.]

Well, well, well…

Okay, so to begin with, let’s all admit that BDR showing up on a red carpet with some sweet young thing is nothing new. In fact, it would be strange if she didn’t. But the shameless PDA last night at Galactica’s annual Christmas party—both on and off the carpet—had us wondering...who the hell is the new paramour?

We did a bit of digging and strap in kids, cause it gets juicy…

Turns out that this little darling is named Courtney Jenek. Sound familiar? No? Yeah it shouldn’t. But she happens to have two very interesting connections to BDR: 1, apparently she’s friends with B’s baby sister, princess of the underground punk scene Adore Delano. And 2, even more hilariously, Lil Courtney here is the Executive Assistant to none other than Miss Fame of Galactica.

Wonder what the illustrious and brand-conscious Miss Fame thinks of her bestie using her staff in what appears to be an extremely filthy unprofessional way? And how’s it all gonna play out?

We can’t wait to watch this drama unfold…

***

As Courtney slipped on her coat and grabbed her bag to head downstairs for yet another coffee run, she glanced at her personal phone, laughing to herself when she saw the 17 missed calls from Morgan. She scrolled through the text messages in the elevator.

MORGAN: COURTNEYYYYYYYY!!!

MORGAN: OMG PICK UP

MORGAN: WERE YOU PLANNING TO TELL US YOU’RE FUCKING BIANCA DEL RIO?????

TYRA: She’s WHAT

ADORE: You guys didn’t know? ;)

TATIANNA: Yawn, old news :p

MORGAN: BITCH

MORGAN: COURTNEY I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON’T PICK UP

MORGAN: COURTNEYCOURTNEYCOURTNEYCOURTNEYCOURTNEY

Courtney called her back, laughing some more when she picked up even before the first ring.

“You know I’m working, right?”

“I am going to murder you,” Morgan announced.

“Wow Morgan. A hate crime? I really thought more highly of you,” Courtney replied with a giggle.

“Omigod, shut up! How could you not have told me already?!”

“Well...I don’t know, I wasn’t sure what it was at first-” she said.

“It’s still fucking major!” Morgan laughed. “I guess it makes sense, though. God, you always chose the worst men.”

Courtney chuckled, nodding as she exited the elevator and headed for the coffee shop.

“So what did your parents say?”

“Uhhh...I haven’t exactly told them yet.”

“Courtney!”

“What? It’s not gonna be dramatic or anything, you know my brother’s gay.”

“Omigod, Court, you absolute idiot. You have to-”

“One sec.” Courtney lowered her phone to give the orders for the meeting, then went back to the phone. “Sorry, I’m on a coffee run.”

“Yeah, I heard. Listen, Courtney, you have to tell them! Do you really want them to find out that you’re dating a woman who’s almost twice your age from a fucking tabloid?”

“I don’t think my parents subscribe to American fashion blogs.”

“Did you even read the link I sent you?! Someone’s gonna send it to them, trust me.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll tell them,” Courtney told her with an eye roll. She really didn’t see the big deal though; telling her parents was the last thing on her list of worries at the moment.

“Also…” Morgan’s voice lowered, taking on a sing-song, teasing tone now that the business was out of the way, “When are we hanging out? ‘Cause you know I absolutely need all the sordid details.”

“Soon, I promise.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“I’m kind of busy tomorrow,” Courtney admitted.

“Busy getting railed, you mean?”

“Maybe…”

“Ha, you slag.”

***

Maybe she was avoiding going home. That was certainly possible. But on Friday, Katya just seemed to keep finding things to do to prepare for the next week of school. It would be their last week before winter break, so she knew that any kind of serious learning would be difficult. Rather than spend her time fighting with the kids to focus when they just weren’t capable of it, she planned as many fun projects as possible, and though a lot of them were old hat for her by now, the prep work never seemed to end.

Which is why, when Jasmine, the woman who ran the afterschool program, came to her door at almost 6:45, she was still there.

“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you…”

“It’s no bother, come on in,” Katya said, a big smile on her face, especially when she saw that Jasmine had Grace with her--one of Katya’s favorite students.

“You know we close at 6, and Grace’s mom is running late today,” Jasmine said. Her tone of voice was light and cheerful, but her eyes told Katya a different story--that this wasn’t the first time it had happened, and that she was likely furious. “I gotta get home, and Dani’s out with the flu, so...do you mind keeping her here until Leslie shows up? It should be soon, she texted me ten minutes ago that she’s on the way.”

“No problem. We’ll have a great time, won’t we Grace?”

The little girl nodded, skipping into the classroom happily.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Jasmine said. “Thank you!”

Katya turned to Grace, who had dumped her jacket and backpack on the rug and was already prowling around the book bins, likely looking for her favorite Junie B. Jones stories. Soon, the two of them were settled into bean bag chairs in the comfy zone, Katya reading a few chapters out loud to her before realizing that she was probably hungry and suggesting a snack. Grace was just finishing her juice box and goldfish crackers when her young mother, Leslie, came rushing inside, harried and out of breath, apologizing profusely.

“Mama!” Grace jumped up from her seat at the little table, knocking the chair over in her excitement to leap into her mom’s arms. She hugged her tightly, face buried in her neck, and Katya could see some of the tension in Leslie’s face melt away.

Katya stood up from her own seat, picking up the book they’d been reading.

“I’m gonna put this book in Grace’s backpack so that you can finish it together this weekend,” she said, and Leslie shot her a look of pure gratitude, nodding.

“Grace, can you say thank you to Mrs. Zamo?”

“Thank you Mrs. Zamo!” she echoed cheerfully, taking the backpack and her jacket as Leslie dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

“Honey, can you go wait for me on the bench for a minute?” she asked, tugging gently on one of her pigtails.

“Okay!”

As Grace skipped into the hallway to wait, Leslie turned to Katya, tears filling her eyes.

“I’m really so sorry about being late, I-”

“It’s okay,” Katya said, head tilted sympathetically. “I get it, things happen.”

“It’s been happening all week. I got this new job, and the hours are so tough and the commute is shit, but it’s an extra two dollars an hour and I can’t say no to that. But I just feel like...I feel like I can’t do anything right.”

“I understand,” Katya nodded, putting a hand on her arm. The truth was, though, she didn’t understand. Not really. She’d never been in a position where an extra two dollars an hour would make such a big difference in her life--not even when her dad cut her off. She’d always had money, and by the time her trust fund was depleted, she was living with Trixie, whose generous salary more than covered what they needed, her meager teacher’s salary mostly paying for fun extras, keeping them entertained and living their best lives, or just going in the bank.

She knew she was lucky, but until that moment, seeing the pain in Leslie’s eyes, the fear that she was failing at life and failing her child, maybe she didn’t understand just how lucky.

“I was sitting on the bus thinking about her waiting and waiting, wondering where I was.”

“Can I tell you something?” she asked softly. “Grace didn’t care that you were late, she was just happy to see you when you got here, because it’s really obvious what a good mom you are.”

“Sometimes I feel like the worst mom ever,” Leslie admitted, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“No way. Grace is an amazing kid. She’s smart and kind and enthusiastic--and it’s totally okay if you need some more help. That’s what all of us are here for. I can talk to Jasmine about maybe extending the hours next week, until you can get your schedule sorted. Or maybe Grace can go home with Joey’s mom...don’t you all live in the same building?”

Leslie nodded, a deep sigh leaving her. “Thanks, that’s a good idea. I...I’ll figure it out.”

“Okay. Just remember that you’re not in this alone, you know?” Katya handed over a box of tissues from her desk.

“Yeah. Thanks. Sorry, I-” Leslie wiped her eyes.

“Don’t be sorry,” Katya said, giving her a warm hug.

***

“Oh god!” Gigi groaned, pushing the door to the modeling apartment open, her shoulders aching, her fingertips numb. “Finally!” She dumped her bags down in the hallway, slumping against the wall.

She had been around the town with Sutan all day, shopping for what he called a model wardrobe, Gigi trying on several pairs of heels and flats, her new backpack and purse stuffed with a newly printed book and her brand new phone, their last stop of the day Gigi’s new gym that was just around the corner.

“Gigi?” Bimini popped her head out of the kitchen door, the golden rim around her eyes and her crimped hair clear indicators that meant she had been shooting, Bimini rarely bothering with removing hair and makeup on set. “Welcome home sweetie! How did it go?”

“I’m exhausted!” Gigi pushed out from the wall and kicked her sneakers off. “Who knew shopping could be that hard?”

Gigi heard Symone giggle, her friend sitting at the table and painting her nails, the apartment's newest arrival chopping vegetables for whatever vegan crock pot Bimini was cooking for everyone. They had someone new arrive every couple of days, most girls only staying for a night or two in the bunk beds in what Naomi had dubbed the summer camp room before they were shipped off again if they didn’t interest any of the agents.

“I told you, didn’t I?”

“I know,” Gigi groaned, dumping down in a chair to rest her aching feet, “but I thought you were kidding.” Symone had gone on the trip two weeks ago, her Instagram exploding with content now that she had a brand new phone to post with.

“Did he give you the drink speech too?”

She had eaten lunch with Sutan at an awkwardly fancy restaurant, three sets of cutlery surrounding her plate, her manager going through each set as well as her wine glasses, explaining it to her. Gigi’s mom had always insisted on good manners, but it hadn’t been anything like that.

“The ‘never leave your drink unattended’ one, I mean.”

“Mmh,” Gigi nodded. “The whole entire speech.”

She hoped it’d be unnecessary, but Sutan had run her through what he called the basic safety procedures like putting a hand or a napkin over her glass when she wasn’t paying attention, her manager drilling it into her skull that she shouldn’t accept poured drinks or opened bottles from strangers in clubs unless she saw the bartender prepare it.

“Is he seriously doing all that?” Naomi raised an eyebrow. “So far, all my agent has told me is that if I showed up in any tabloid looking messy, he’d drop my ass.”

Suddenly, Sutan’s mothering didn’t feel as smothering, the attention and assistance the man had poured over her nothing compared to the terrifying thought of being left basically on her own like Naomi.

***

At first, Katya wasn’t sure why she stopped at Macy’s on the way home. Especially now, on a Friday night during the holiday season, when the sales clerks were at their most frazzled.

She wandered around, unable to get Grace and Leslie out of her mind...and in particular, the look of pure joy on Grace’s face when her mother appeared in the doorway. Leslie was a single mom, and by the look of her, she was pretty young, but she had managed to raise an exceptional kid who was sure how much she was loved.

Why was Katya so afraid of having a baby? It was like she’d told Leslie--she wouldn’t be doing it alone. Not by a long shot. No, she was fortunate to have the most wonderful man in the universe by her side. And lord knew, Trixie would make up for any maternal instincts she may lack herself. And plenty of people, people much less capable and loving than her, had babies every day.

She stopped, looking around, realizing that she’d found herself in the baby department. Specifically, in front of a shelf full of tiny little infant shoes. She smiled to herself, knowing exactly what she needed.

When she arrived home, she was thrilled to see that Trixie had prepared dinner, heating up some leftover chicken and mashed potatoes and throwing together a salad--exactly what she was in the mood for.

She smiled when she saw him, announcing, “I brought you a present.”

Trixie’s face lit up, and for a split second she could imagine that exact same expression of joy on a tiny child, the thought making her insides warm as she handed him the little bag.

He looked inside, where the two tiny pink moccasin slippers sat in their plastic box, his head then snapping up to look at her with an expression of amazement.

“Kat, are you-” His eyes were bright with tears, hopeful but still a bit tentative.

She shrugged slightly, self-consciously, afraid to say what she’s been thinking out loud, but Trixie seemed to know anyway.

He rushed forward and swept her up into the biggest, tightest hug she’d ever had, repeating over and over how wonderful she was going to be. She took his face in her hands, kissing his tear-stained cheeks, finally sure that as a team, they could do it.