#ohhh I hope he likes it!! I got permission from him to do it obviously but I hadn't repaired anything like this before

[the-last-kenobi]

Most of your fics absolutely destroyed me emotionally so, on my own risk, may I request #13 “You shouldn’t be this easy to carry" with Qui-Gon and padawan Obi-Wan? Thank you!

Ohhh I’m happy to write this one! Thank you! (Always pleased to hear I’ve emotionally wrecked innocent people lol)

From this various prompts list.

_

Qui-Gon descended the ramp of his ship with something less than his usual grace, his expression was rather sour. Other than that, he looked his usual self, untidy but comfortable and serene.

He waved to the attendant heading towards the ship, and bowed to a small mechanic droid that squeaked with excitement, ran in circles around him, and then darted off after the attendant.

Qui-Gon chuckled. He paused to take a deep breath, tasting the metallic scent of Coruscant on the air, but also the warm and familiar notes of the Temple, of home. It was good to be back. Tedious diplomatic assignments that ran well overtime were nothing worth dwelling on, especially when it was done alone.

“Master Jinn!” a warm voice called.

He turned his head and saw Shaak Ti walking towards him, a smile on her lovely face with its striking colors.

“Knight Ti,” he greeted her. “How are you?”

“I’m well,” she answered. “I’m just about to depart to Alderaan; it’s a royal wedding and I’m the token Jedi invitee,” she informed him, but there was no offense in her voice. Alderaan was well known to be genuinely welcoming, and had been more than courteous in their dealings with the Order for centuries on end.

“Enjoy it,” Qui-Gon advised her. “Weddings are rarely something you’d like to miss.”

“I will,” she promised. “Oh, is your Padawan around? I was hoping to catch him when he returned, he forgot to sign off on his departure notice and was scheduled for three shifts in the crèche, which he obviously missed.”

Qui-Gon’s head tilted to one side, and he frowned.

It was obvious that Shaak Ti believed that Obi-Wan had accompanied him on his mission, which had in fact been a solo assignment. The twenty-one-year-old Padawan had remained behind for class rotations.

And Obi-Wan had never missed... well, anything. He was notoriously early for everything, beyond punctual. It was almost annoying.

Perhaps he’d finally slipped into a belated teenage fit of laziness, or he’d fallen so behind on class work that he’d forgotten about the crèche. Both would be extremely out of character, but one instance of this in nearly nine years of training could perhaps be excused.

Shaak Ti was waiting for an answer.

“I’ll talk to him,” he promised, revealing nothing. “Thank you for letting me know. I had no idea.”

She waved it off. “These things happen. You have a good student on your hands; he’s easily forgiven.”

Qui-Gon smiled.

~

The door to their quarters opened for him with a casual wave of the hand. Jedi did not lock their doors often; privacy was an understood thing, something not casually breached. No Jedi would enter another’s rooms without first asking permission.

He wasn’t sure what he expected.

Obi-Wan in the common area, reading.

Or Obi-Wan out and about, somewhere off with some of his more trouble making friends. (Quinlan Vos.)

He was not expecting to find Obi-Wan huddled in the corner of their kitchenette, half-hidden in his cloak, knees drawn up under his chin, crying.

Obi-Wan saw him enter and flinched away, shuddering.

Qui-Gon stared.

The entire scene was so unexpected, so wrong, that for a full five seconds he simply stood there, unable to process it. Obi-Wan had buried his face in his knees and was attempting to stifle his tears, seemingly by holding his breath, which was only making him shake harder.

Qui-Gon jolted out of his paralysis and stepped nearer, dropping onto one knee, sensing that looming over his Padawan was not going to help.

“Padawan?” he asked cautiously.

Obi-Wan looked up reluctantly. His face was a sickly grey; his cheeks were bright red and his blue eyes were feverish. They darted around, seeming to fix on nothing.

“Obi-Wan,” the Master tried again, warily reaching out a hand and resting it on top of one of Obi-Wan’s, clenched around his knee.

Obi-Wan took a rattling breath, more tears spilling down his cheeks. “...What... day is it...?” he gasped.

Qui-Gon’s chest tightened with something close to terror. What in all the galaxy was going on here?

“It’s the 29th,” he said gently. “Taungsday. I returned a day late from my solo mission. Do you remember that?”

Obi-Wan’s tears had increased throughout the brief speech. “Y-yes.”

“All right,” said Qui-Gon, struggling to remain as calm and patient as possible. “All right. Can you tell me what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, his expression crumbling. Suddenly he very much resembled the boy Qui-Gon had met on Bandomeer, uncertain and frightened, although even then he had not cried. This was different.

“Are you sure?” Qui-Gon pressed.

Obi-Wan nodded, strangling a loud sob by clapping one hand over his mouth. He said something, but of course it was impossible to understand behind his clamped fingers.

“What?” asked his Master.

“...so...stupid,” Obi-Wan burst out angrily through his tears. “I just... don’t feel well.”

“Don’t feel well?” Qui-Gon stared at his apprentice in confusion. “You’re sick? Obi-Wan, why didn’t you just go to the Halls?”

Obi-Wan shuddered. More tears slid down over his flushed cheeks. “I...I...I fell,” he said, sounding deeply uncertain. “I was working, and it was late, and I fell. I think I fell. I can’t walk. I can barely move. I don’t know how long it’s been—”

Qui-Gon was already moving, alarm ringing in his head like sirens. In two seconds he had Obi-Wan in his arms, cradled like a child, his head resting under Qui-Gon’s chin.

“You shouldn’t be this easy to carry,” he said tensely. “You haven’t had anything to eat or drink since you fell?”

“Some... some water,” Obi-Wan murmured. His skin was blazing hot against Qui-Gon’s, a sick and feverish heat. He had stopped crying — his tears seemed to have stemmed from a combination of confusion and shame, not pain — but he seemed on the verge of passing out. “I... I got some water... don’t remember when...”

“Stay awake,” Qui-Gon ordered. He was striding down the hallways, ignoring the few bystanders who watched them pass with bewilderment and concern. He did send a grateful nod to one young woman who raised her comm in her hand at him, asking a silent question, and at his gesture raised it to her lips and murmured ‘Tell the Healers that Master Jinn is bringing in his Padawan. Have someone ready.’

Obi-Wan murmured something vague.

“Stay awake,” insisted Qui-Gon. “Don’t fall asleep.”

Obi-Wan moaned but nodded, forcing his eyes to stay open. “I...I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” The words came out harsh and insincere in Qui-Gon’s urgency, and he realized it, because he dropped a swift kiss to the top of the fevered head in apology. Obi-Wan relaxed ever so slightly.

They arrived in the Halls of Healing and were immediately received by a Healer and his apprentice, who had Obi-Wan safely tucked in a bed and monitored in less than two minutes. Obi-Wan had closed his eyes against the bright light and seemed in danger of falling asleep again.

“Stay awake just a little longer, Padawan Kenobi,” the Healer instructed kindly. “I’m fairly sure of your diagnosis but I have to be more certain before I can administer treatment. Then you can sleep.”

“Yes, Healer,” rasped the young man.

Qui-Gon watched from the wall, his hands tucked deep in his sleeves to hide how they trembled. The shock of the last quarter hour was setting in, and he scrambled to keep his wits about him, worried about what this diagnosis might be. He still remembered Obi-Wan’s confusion about the day, his bewildered tears, and that memory was not going to be going away anytime soon.

He had been far too light in his arms.

Just how long had Obi-Wan been trapped in their rooms, unable to call for help and too confused to figure out a way around that? How long had he gone without eating and sleeping?

He found out.

An hour later, Obi-Wan was fast asleep, hooked up to an IV and blissfully pain-free due to a dose of pills he had managed to swallow. The Healer turned to Qui-Gon with a weary smile.

“You’re all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine. I’ve just returned from a mission, but I wasn’t hurt.”

“That’s good to know. I was asking about shock, however,” the Healer said gently. “I know this can’t have been a pleasant homecoming.”

Qui-Gon’s throat tightened, but he said nothing.

The Healer seemed to understand. “Obi-Wan has contracted a strain of the flu,” he explained, moving past the brief surge of emotion. “As you know, most strains of the flu are easily combated these days and many species have evolved or inoculated to the point where it’s hardly a concern. But sometimes the flu is stronger. In this case, it’s clear that it’s job was made easy. I don’t think Padawan Kenobi was eating or sleeping properly before the sickness began to set in. It would explain the severity of his malnutrition, and his confusion.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes flickered to the bed where Obi-Wan was sleeping, the fever still burning in his cheeks.

“...How long?” he asked.

“A few days at most,” the Healer said. “But I suspect it’s a habit that’s related to stress and overwork. Does Obi-Wan struggle with stress or insomnia?”

The Master hesitated a moment, opening his mouth to deny it, and then stopping to think better of it.

“...Maybe,” he admitted. The hesitation stung. Shouldn’t he know? “He’s very private with his habits when we’re in Temple. He prefers to study alone in his room, and we usually only manage to share one meal a day during his busier semesters, if that.”

The Healer nodded. He didn’t look or sound at all accusatory when he said, “That’s understandable. I’m going to suggest keeping a closer eye on that. Don’t force him out of his comfort zone, at least not right away, but make sure he understands that three square meals — or better yet, a light meal or snack every two or three hours — is expected of him. As is sleep.”

Qui-Gon nodded, his throat tightening again to the point of pain.

“Rest easy, Master Jinn,” said the Healer, briefly laying a supportive hand on the taller Jedi’s shoulder. “He’ll pull through this. The illness, and everything else. I believe it’s nothing more than a bad habit formed from good intentions. There are crueler demons out there.”

“Yes, I know,” said Qui-Gon. And he did know. One didn���t reach Jedi Mastery without learning the galaxy for what it was.

But he didn’t think he would ever quite move past the shock of today, of carrying his adult apprentice in his arms, sick to the point of tears and helplessness, and then discovering that he could possibly have prevented this if he had paid a little more attention to Obi-Wan’s work habits.

Well. They would, as the Healer said, overcome this.

Qui-Gon drew up a chair to the side of the bed, resolving to wait until Obi-Wan woke, and slowly reached out and set his hand next to his Padawan’s. After a moment, Obi-Wan stirred, and even in his sleep he gave a contented sigh and shifted his hand, his fingers searching blindly for his Master’s hand. Qui-Gon took it and held it tightly.

They had overcome so many things in nearly a decade together.

They could handle this.

And besides, Qui-Gon told himself, even after Obi-Wan was Knighted, he would always be here to watch his back.

He would never abandon Obi-Wan.

_

[katsukisbimbo]

Kuroo x Volleyball Player! Reader

Kuroo Tetsurou x Volleyball Player! Reader

wordcount: 3,087

genre: strangers-to-lovers au with fluff, crack and a little bit of smut :)))

summary: meeting kuroo tetsurou might be the best thing that has ever happened to you

first of all

kuroo pissed you off to no end

absolutely pissed you off

the first time you met him was when you were a first year

your brother keishin has asked you to come with them for the practice match they had with nekoma

the moment you got to school you had to DASH to go to the washroom because you had to pEee

gosh

curse your tiny bladder

when you went out everyone was already on the bus

sigh

you were gonna have to sit with someone you don’t know

because FOR SURE

your stupid brother keishin would be sitting next to takeda-sensei

the moment you hopped on the bus

everyone suddenly became quiet

0.0

everyone was jus like

uh

who’s this cutie

is she lost

she’s from shiratorizawa what’s she doing here

huh

and noya and tanaka are just screaming at this point

“wHO IS THIS GODDESS WHO DECIDED TO BLESS US WITH HER PRESENCE?!?!? I LOVE YOU PLEASE SIT NEXT TO ME RYU GET OUT NO I DONT CARE GET OUT”

cue tanaka landing on the floor

“nOYA-SAN WHY”

and you’re just like

lmao what

and literally all the seats are taken except for the guy who literally yeeted his bald friend into the next dimension

sigh

i guess you had to sit next to the cutie huh

you look at your brother pleading for help

but he just ignores you and talks to sensei

sIGH

your brother was so thirsty that he didn’t even CARE if these boys ate you alive

gosh

it’s okay

it be like that

f in the chat for y/n

oKAY enough self pitying

you reluctantly sit beside the really loud guy

“hi my names ukai y/n! what’s your name?”

“m-my name is n-nishinoya yuu”

cue noya looking like a literal tomato

“nice to meet you!! i’m excited to work with you nishinoya-san! if i may ask, what year are you in?”

“iM in sEcond yEar”

gosh noya’s so proud

“oH you’re my senpai then!! it’s really nice to meet you senpai!! i hope we have a good trip”

GAHSJDJSHS

you called him senpai

without him asking you to

GOSH

could you be any more perfect

“agHjsjdhsjajszjJAK”

“those aren’t words...”

“...”

“...”

and at that point noya was brain fried so you just put on your earphones and chilled

...

...

*gagging*

“hINATAAGAHAJSKSHS”

what

what was going on

you turned your head

and you saw this orange haired babie throwing up on the bald guy who got yeeted

and suddenly

chaos ensued

everyone was screaming because of the stench

you were gagging so hard that you felt your breakfast coming back up

but your seat buddy was having the time of his life laughing at his two friends who were having a dilemma

gosh

today was gonna be crazy

finally you guys had finally arrived at nekoma and honestly that’s as the most chaotic car ride you’ve ever experienced

but luckily on the way you’ve made yourself familiar with everyone on the team

especially the third year cuties

and no you did not say that to their faces because you’re shy :((

you guys finally get out of the bus and you see

a god

with crazy looking hair

“well if it isn’t the crows” “did you have a good ride here you country bumpkins?”

and daichi’s bout to lose it

“kuroo-san nice to see you again”

and you can definitely feel the tension in the air

was it just you or is it hot in here

kuroo suddenly turned to look at you and honestly you’ve never been more intimidated in your life because wow

he’s beautiful

“who’s the pretty girl daichi-san? is she your girlfriend?”

“no no she’s our couch’s sister”

“hi i’m ukai y/n, nice to meet you”

and you shake his hand and you’re SHOCKED

“kuroo tetsurou, likewise”

his hand is so warm n rough oh god

you suddenly wonder what it would feel like to have his hands slowly wrap around your throat as he starts to thru-

NO

nO DIrtY ThOuGhTs

bad

bad y/n

you’ve been so caught up in your day dream that you didn’t realize that you were still hold kuroos hand

and you look up to see kuroo looking like a smug little shit as if he was saying

‘are you ever gonna let go or?’

and it really made you wanna hit him

really badly

you wanted to punch his mouth

with your mouth

GAHSJDGA

stOp

okay anyways

you snatch your hands away from kuroo and he just smirks at you like a smug little bastard

“what’s wrong kitten? didn’t wanna let go of my hand?”

at this point you’re too flustered to even talk so you take it as the time to back off and just let kuroo be a little fuckhead

but suddenly you’re snatched by tanaka and noya

you somehow end up bumping into kiyoko and you’re just like “omg i’m so sorry kiyoko-san i didn’t mea-“

“don’t worry about it y/n-chan, accidents happen”

and wow

wow

a goddess

now you see what tanaka and noya see

she’s beautiful

maybe you do want the best of both worlds.....

...

...

ANYWAYS

tanaka and noya end up showing you off to their equally as weird friend taketora and of course like the normal person you are you greet him and introduce yourself

but before he even gets the chance to talk kiyoko’s already pulling you away telling you that she needed some help with setting up some of their gear

and of course like the puppy you are you follow her because yes you’re in love with her

i mean

who isn’t

lesbi honest

everyone’s a simp for kiyoko

moving on

finally they’ve started to play a match

and you’re very impressed

especially by hinata and kageyama because wow their skill was amazing

and hinata’s jumps were crazy

obviously you played volleyball yourself being ukai’s grand daughter

and you weren’t that bad

considering the fact that you play for japan’s u19 team with ushijima

who was a very close senpai to you

so close to the point where you’d call him your older brother

rip keishin

back to the game

everyone in karasuno was very promising and you were getting excited with the ideas that were flooding into your head

but nekomas not too bad either

they were pretty solid with their defence and some people might think that it’s all about the attacks but

your attack doesn’t mean anything if the ball doesn’t touch the floor in the court

you were very impressed with the bedhead’s receives a n d blocking

every time he managed a good save or blocked anyone he would always glance in your direction

and it may or may not have made you feel nervous because who doesn’t get nervous when an attractive person looks at you

sadly

the game finished rather quickly

at this point everyone was already cleaning up and of course you decided to help

you thought that you would be able to play just a little bit but your brother just wanted you to familiarize yourself with the teams before you went on the week long training camp with them

which was in two weeks

:)

you were trying to take the volleyball net down until a tall figure comes up behind you and takes the net from you

you turn around and guess who it is

kuroo frocking tetsurou

what a surprise

“don’t worry about it peaches i got it”

wha

did this man just call you PEACHES

peaches as in the scary girl who goes to famous peoples houses?

i think NOT sir

“pEACHES? what is that supposed to mean??! huh?!?”

“woah woah calm down babe, it’s just a nickname. i call you peaches cuz you smell like peaches”

ohhh

okay

that’s fine

“i’ve been wondering though, if you smell like peaches then would you taste like peaches??”

wHAT

wHATSGFSZHSJ

rip y/n’s remaining brain cells

“how about it doll? are you gonna give little old me a taste?”

and he’s suddenly pushing himself closer to you

and you close your eyes because it really looks like he’s about to kiss you and omg it’s like your first kiss hELP

but instead of a kiss

he just laughs at you

this man is literally bent over and CACKLING his lungs out

“you’re so cute doll, i wouldn’t kiss you without your permission. plus i gotta take you out first. wanna go on a date with me some time?”

and you’re just so caught off guard

that you can’t even manage a verbal response

like you just nod your head and then he’s ruffling you’re hair and walking away with the volleyball net

what the hell just happened

did you just score yourself a date

yes

yes you did

you go girl

sadly

it’s time for you and your babies to go

and kuroo being the good person he is

walks you guys out

but before you can get on the bus

kuroo pulls you to the side and bends down to your height to whisper in your ear

“text me sometime peaches”

and you suddenly feel him putting a piece of paper in your back pocket

then he’s pushing you onto the bus and you’re just dumbfounded

did he just touch your bum

could he not just hand it to you

not that you were complaining,,, but now you just wanna know what it would feel like if he just grabbed your bum with both of his hands while you sit on his la-

nO

BAD

BAD

BAD

gosh you have it bad for this boy

the moment you got him you debated whether to text him or not

i mean

you didn’t even look at the piece of paper yet

so you go into you back pocket and open the paper

‘xxx-xxx-xxxx text me when you get home peaches, i already miss your pretty face -kuroo’

WHY IS HE SO CUTE

you get up and start looking for your phone

and you spend like 6 minutes trying to think of what to say

but you finally settled with

hi :)

hopefully that was normal enough

and not even 1 minute later you already got a reply

hey cutie :) did you get home safe

wHY IS HE SO DARN CUTE

and your conversation goes from there

you guys literally talk about everything

from his favourite colour to the time when your leg fell in a hole and you slammed your whole body on the ground causing your ribs to shift and now whenever somebody touches the top of your chest they can feel the top of your ribs

(that was actually a true story and yes it happened to me and yes my ribs are very very fucked up but i’m still alive soooo)

by the time you were back in tokyo

you and kuroo were basically best friends

you guys texted, called, and facetimed every day

you stepped out of the bus and low and behold

it was kuroo waiting for you

“tETSUU”

you run to him and jump in his arms

and he catches you and swings you around a few times

everyone was just like

o.o

‘when did they get so close’

and your older brothers just like

>:(

this is n o t good shaggy

and kuroo introduces you to everyone

especially his buddies bokutou, akaashi, and kenma

and bokutou’s bombarding you with questions

and he asks why you’re wearing a shiratorizawa sweater

and you’re just like ‘i go to school there..’

and he’s just like

“oH YOU KNOW USHIJIMA? IM IN THE TOP 5 ACES RANKING WITH HIM IM SO COOL RIGHT”

“bokuto-san i think you’re scaring her”

“aKAAASHGHSI YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO SAY ‘bokuto-san you’re so cool’”

and you and kuroo are just laughing your asses off

while kenma’s playing with his psp

pspspspspsppss

“bokuto-san you’re so cool”

“aKAAASHUDID YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO SAY IT EARLIER”

at that point you and kuroo have already walked away

and he brings you to your room

and helps you settle down your things

gosh he’s such a gentleman

y/n was ready to risk it all for this man

“peaches you okay?”

“oH i’m fine yes yes i’m fine tetsu”

“okaaaayyyy if you say so peaches” and kuroos just going through your bag checking if you have snacks

“tetsu i don’t have any snacks in there for you”

“really? what do you mean? you do have a snack for me tho”

and you’re jus like lol no i don’t

and he’s slowly walking towards you and you highkey feel intimidated but fuck that you’re not a bussy

at this point kuroo’s sitting on your legs while his arms are slowly creeping up your sides

and in your head

you’re just like

‘ahh this is it i’m gonna have a heart attack’

and suddenly

kuroo’s tickling you and you’re crying on the floor because HSJDJH

TICKLES

“tETSU PLEASE I CANT BREATHEEHHHD”

“what’s that peach? i cant hear you”

“tETSU YOU DIPSHIT PLEASE STOPFDISHS”

“hmm i don’t know, i think i’ll stop if you say ‘nya’ for me”

“gO TO HELLSKDIS”

“come on pretty, say it for me”

you’re blushing sO HARD

“n-nya”

and kuroo just freezes up because he didn’t think that you’d actually do it

“tetsu? u ok?”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“tetsu”

“o-oH yeah i’m fine silly i was just thinking”

“what were you thinking about neko-chan?”

“you.”

GAHSJDJSHSGS

he was going to be the death of you

you, kuroo, bokutou, akaashi, hinata, and tsukishima suddenly ended up at an empty gym

and you guys wanted to play a match so

why not

it was you, kuroo, and tsukki

versus bokutou, hinata, and akaashi

it was a very intense but fun game

akaashi set to bokutou and bokutou did a cross shot

which wasn’t properly blocked by tsukishima

but luckily you were there to pick it up

and kuroo set to you and you slammed it down before they could even block you

the whole gym was silent

wha

how did-

hUH

“peach what”

“what tetsu”

“since when were you so good at volleyball”

“tetsu i play for japan’s u19 team, why did you think i was here in the first place? i’m here to help you guys”

and hinata’s just yelling

“y/n-cHAN I DIDNT KNOW YOU PLAYED NO WONDER WHY YOU LOOKED SO FAMILLIAR OMGJDSI”

after you got exposed

it was only you and tetsu left in the gym

after everything was cleaned up

kuroo pulled you aside before you could leave the gym

“t-tetsu what’re you doing? the gym lights are already of-“

“shut up for one second”

o.o

ogey then

“peaches i really like you. i know that we haven’t known each other long but it feels like i’ve known you since forever. will please let me take you out”

what

...

did he just

yes he did

“t-tetsu,,, i really like you too, and i would love it if we could go out on a date sometime”

and at that moment tetsu just

“HELL YEAHHH”

and he’s getting close to you again

to the point where he’s pressing you against the wall

he cups your cheek and leans closer to your face

“peaches,, can i please kiss you right now”

“yeah”

you close your eyes as you feel tetsu’s hot breath hovering other your soft lips

gosh

this was it

your were gonna kiss tetsu

your crush

until

...

...

...

...

“gET YOUR HANDS OFF MY SISTER BRAT”

and kuroos just like

wHAT THE FUCK

it’s your brother

keishin

“nII-SAN WHY”

“gET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW Y/N”

and you sadly look up at tetsu

and he just smiles at you and gestures for you to go

until you get up on your tippy toes and kiss tetsu full on the mouth

you catch him by surprise but he quickly kisses you back

you wrap your arms around his neck and slowly work your way up into his hair until you’ve got a good grip on him

kuroos hands weren’t staying still either

his hands were slowly creeping down your sides until he grabs the back of your thighs and pulls you up and holds you against him

his hands end up on your bum

and then

he squeezes

“THAT IS IT Y/N STOP SUCKING FACE AND GET OVER HERE”

oops

[votederpycausemufins]

I’ve been writing and i finally realized it’s long enough i should divide it up into two parts probably. so here’s a fic of Grian and Mumbo giving Grumbot and Jrumbot proper bodies. it’s got fluff and angst!

“You did what?!” Grian shouted, making Scar take a step back.

“Please, I assure you it was an accident.” He held his hands up defensively. “I didn’t think it would get all the way over there.”

“Of all the people to do it, it had to be you!” Grian grumbled as he pulled out his comm. “While I would like to talk about this more, it will have to wait until after Mumbo and I have dealt with this mess.”

“Do you want any help?”

Grian paused. At first he didn’t want to. Scar was the one that let a stray wither projectile or two hit the virtual reality box. But then again, it could help guilt Scar more into an IOU. “We’ll see. Better for you to come along just in case as backup.”

Grian looked back down at his comm to see Mumbo had responded. He shot back another message before flying over to the shopping district with Scar. When they approached the damaged building, Grian’s eyes widened. “Scar! You made it sound like it was just one wither attack!”

“Well, you see I tried fixing it, but it was getting dark, and the torches were put out and mobs started spawning and-”

Grian just groaned and landed on the roof, taking a peek inside. It didn’t seem like Grumbot was active, so maybe they had gotten lucky and he was in sleep mode the whole time. Once Mumbo arrived the three of them would fix the box and he wouldn’t even notice. “Okay Scar, how many blocks were you able to recover?” The mayor handed everything he saved to Grian. “Alright, obviously we lost some of it. Once Mumbo’s here, I’ll fly back to my mansion and grab more.”

“Wouldn’t the barge be closer?” Mumbo spoke as he landed nearby. “And you weren’t kidding when you said there was a problem here.”

“Yeah, but it looks like Grum’s in sleep mode. I’m sure if he was awake for any of it, he’d still be up in a panic.” Grian quickly explained before flying to his barge.

“Wait, Grian, you still have all the… blocks.” Scar tried to stop Grian before he was too far away, but had no luck. “Now I’m glad you mentioned the barge. He hopefully won’t be gone too long.”

Mumbo nodded, looking around and then spotting some blocks resting on the ground inside the box. “Well, there seems to be something left down there, so we can potentially use that.”

Scar looked over the edge and then shook his head. “I already broke the place with explosions. For all we know me going down there will make it worse.”

“Well if we don’t grab those now, it’ll take longer to just be sitting here waiting for Grian to come back. And waiting longer is going to make it worse, not you going down there.”

It took a bit more convincing, but Scar did eventually glide down with Mumbo. The two of them started gathering the materials all strewn about, starting to repair the box. Scar was the first to fill up his inventory, already having a large amount of items filling it. He pulled out some fireworks to fly back up and start repairs, but just as he started to rocket up, everything suddenly got brighter. Scar turned his head to see the screen of Grumbot’s face turning on, and since he was distracted by that, he flew right into the ceiling, crashing back down to the ground.

“Ohhh man, that’s not good.” Scar continued to look up at the robot, ignoring the fact that he was sitting at two hearts.

Grumbot looked down at Mumbo at Scar, seeming to still be waking up a bit as he looked a little unfocused. “What is- Oh hello.” Grumbot looked between Mumbo and Scar, now confused. “Why are you wearing a mayoral outfit and not Mumbo?” The two stood frozen, not sure what to say. “The only reason for that would be-” The robot cut himself off as the background of his screen became a red color. Mumbo barely had the chance to move as he dove at Scar, pushing the two of them out of the way from the large robotic fist that nearly crushed the mayor.

“Grumbot! What are you doing?!” Mumbo shouted up, but the robot didn’t answer, instead trying to grab Scar. As his hand moved, there was the sound of a firework and Grian dove in, landing on the arm and pushing it off balance.

“What did you two do while I was gone?” Grian asked before flying to dodge and then deflect another grab from Grumbot.

“We were just grabbing some stray supplies from down here when he woke up. He noticed my suit and just started attacking!” Scar managed to dodge being squished by a fist but wasn’t able to dodge the other hand that slapped him into a wall of the building, hard enough to kill him.

“Scar!” Grian yelled before turning his anger on Grumbot, who seemed to do the same, now beginning to attack the avian. Grian was able to dodge easily due to his flying skills and the fact that he no longer was trying to keep himself and Scar alive at the same time. “Mumbo! Do something! He’s not attacking you!”

On the ground, Grian’s words helped get Mumbo moving again after freezing from Scar’s death. He ran towards Grumbot, pick in hand to break through the monitor casing and get into the redstone circuitry. He broke in and pulled himself into the redstone, looking around for the safest way to cut power. At the same time he was trying to be careful to not break anything important. But it looked like he didn’t need to do that because it had already been done. Part of Grumbot’s casing was broken elsewhere and the redstone nearby was damaged. Getting closer, Mumbo could smell used gunpowder.

Finally Mumbo grabbed the redstone battery and carefully disconnected it. He could hear the mechanics that let Grumbot move power down and stop moving which let him sigh in relief. The redstoner climbed out the nearby creeper hole and dusted himself off, instead just spreading the red dust all over his suit.

Grian landed, panting a bit and letting his wings drag on the ground. “That was close. Good timing Mumbo.”

Mumbo nodded before going over to Grian. “How hurt are you? I’ve got extra carrots if you need them.”

“No, just probably strained myself keeping myself alive. I’ll probably need to use an elytra for the next day or so.”

“Oh, how horrible for you.” Mumbo replied sarcastically. “How will you even manage like the rest of us.”

Grian shoved Mumbo slightly before looking up at Grumbot. “Him attacking Scar I can understand, but why me?”

“When I was back there, it looked like the box wasn’t the only thing that got griefed by mobs.” Mumbo explained. “It’s nothing too horrible. Just a few wires that need replacing, clean up the mechanics. But nothing important was damaged.” Mumbo looked at Grian who was still staring up at Grumbot with a worried look on his face. “Grian, he’s fine.”

But the avian shook his head. “He’s not fine. He’s still stuck here. I don’t want it to be another closet.”

Mumbo put a hand on Grian’s shoulder, making him jump slightly. “Do you want to try talking to X again? Now that we’ve started going to those championship things, he might be more open to us worldhopping.”

“Yeah, that might work. But what if he says no? What if I just messed up again and- Ow!” Grian whipped his head around to look at Mumbo who was now holding a red feather in his hand. “What was that for?!”

“You were starting to spiral. Look, Xisuma’s protective of us, but think of it like this, shouldn’t he be protective of Grumbot too? He’ll have to let you go if you bring that up.”

Grian smiled a little. “I guess you’re right. Where’d that extra braincell come from?”

Mumbo scoffed. “I’ll have you know that since Grumbot is a redstone machine my two braincells are enough for this.”

Grian poked his head from around the door frame to look at Xisuma. “Hey X, are you free right now?”

The admin turned around from what he was doing to look at Grian. “What’s wrong Grian, you look nervous about something.”

“Yeah, um. Remember how back when the elections wrapped up and I wanted to go off world for a little bit?”

“Are you asking that again? Grian, I know I’m sure it will be fine but-”

Grian cut Xisuma off. “No, X I know you get worried about us, but you let us go to MCC when it rolls around and the others have gone around here and there.”

“I know Grian, but those are still controlled situations that go to safe environments. What you’re requesting would take you to who knows where.” Xisuma pulled a chair over and sat down. “My priority is keeping all of you safe, so I can’t let you leave.”

Grian ruffled his feathers. “You know I could just go without your permission.”

Xisuma nodded. “But you won’t.”

“I will this time.” Grian replied, making Xisuma pause from how serious the avian sounded. “I’ll take Mumbo with me too and we won’t come back.”

“Grian, the whole reason you joined us is because you wanted a safe place to live. Hermitcraft is one of the safest places out there if not the safest. Why would you just want to leave now?”

Grian crossed his arms. “Well, we want to come back, but we need something that we can’t get here. It’s important.”

“You said in the past that you needed microblocks and non-euclidian portals. You never would tell me why.” Xisuma leaned forward, hoping he could finally get an answer from the builder.

“Remember Grumbot? I know you interviewed him when the elections were happening.”

The admin nodded. “And he had a breakdown after Mumbo lost so you put him in a box.” X paused as the gears in his brain turned. “You came to me between his breakdown and building the box.”

“Yeah.” Grian nodded, looking off to the side a little. “Mumbo’s amazing with redstone and I’m great at building, but there are still problems with getting Grumbot working and actually be able to build him safely. Mumbo said that if we could add more circuits or something it would have helped Grum, but we didn’t have room and you said no.”

Xisuma sighed. “Grian, why didn’t you tell me that in the first place? You just going off all willy nilly is one thing, but for something like this… Of course you can go. I mean, I’ll want constant contact from you three.”

“Three?”

Xisuma pulled up admin panels from thin air. Grian watched, having a little trouble reading the backwards text, but his eyes widened as he realized what exactly the admin was doing just before a communicator materialized in X’s lap. “I’m sure this can be connected to Grumbot directly.”

Grian nodded and took the communicator, starting to smile. “Thank’s X.” He started to walk off, but then paused to turn around with his smile turning to a smirk. “I can’t wait to tell Grumbot all about his grandpa X.”

Before Xisuma could say anything, Grian was running off. The admin slumped in his seat and sighed. “Why do I feel like I’m going to regret this?”

Grian stood on the roof of the box, looking down at Grumbot’s former body. Mumbo had said everything had been packed up and carefully placed in a shulker box, but the builder still worried, especially since Mumbo was late. If everything was already packed up, why wasn’t he here?

Grian’s feathers ruffled again, he had lost count how many times he had worked himself up over the past hour. Obviously it was too many because that time it felt painful. The avian ended up sitting down and starting to preen his wings, the ruffled feathers being all over the place. While fixing the feathers, he was half aware of their colors shifting as he looked into the world they would be going to. It seemed empty, so they wouldn’t have any trouble. And even if they did, they likely wouldn’t be bad enough to deal with a Watcher.

Grian was pulled out of his thoughts by a shout. He looked and saw Mumbo gliding towards him before landing on the roof. “What took you so long?”

“Had something else I needed to pick up. It was supposed to be simple, but then I started thinking about what we’ll be doing and, well next thing I know I’m late.”

“I’ll ignore that just this once.” Grian joked as he stood up. “We’ll be getting there at night time at this point, so we’ll have to deal with mobs.”

“Oh joy.” Mumbo sighed, putting his armor on and making sure his shulker box… boxes? Were secure.

“The second box what caused you to be late?” Grian asked, getting a nod from Mumbo. “Okay then, well let’s not take any longer.” The two watched as a portal of bedrock and obsidian formed in front of them. It appeared block by block and then finally lit itself at which point Grian held his hand. “Oof, haven’t done that in a while.”

“Well I’m going to be doing most of the work, so don’t you worry.” Mumbo patted Grian’s back before the two of them walked through.

It took a while, but Grian set up a house for him and Mumbo to stay in during the nights. After that they needed to do a bit of resource gathering. Grian expected they would need at least some new tools for the things unique to this world, but they also needed more redstone and building supplies after Mumbo showed Grian what had delayed him.

“I didn’t think we even gave him any circuits. I mean he didn’t even have a proper redstone door if I recall correctly.”

“Well, I may have added a little bit here and there. It didn’t feel right to keep him as just a shop, but he wasn’t as sentient as Grumbot.” Mumbo explained, finally putting down the shulker box labeled with Jrumbot’s name.

Grian sighed, but he saw Mumbo’s logic. “Well, I guess he was meant to be Grumbot’s little brother. But we’re going to build him second.”

“Well, we do have more prepared for Grum than Jrum.” Mumbo conceded. “Now, what all are we after?”

“We can get the tools for building everything easily enough, but the main problem is actually putting it all together on a small scale. We’re going to need lots of obsidian of both types and dyes.”

Mumbo paused. “Really? Dyes?”

Grian shrugged. “Yeah. There’s also a new type of ore which gives us a kind of crystal and that’ll bring everything together.”

“Right, well I guess we should start gathering supplies.” Mumbo pulled out his pickaxe and then looked around. “Let’s see if we can’t find a cave nearby.”

Grian pulled out a diamond and did some crafting to make a chisel. “While you do that, I’ll work on putting together bodies. I may have done it before, but it’s still not exactly the easiest thing to do, especially since I need to actually get things the right size.”

Mumbo nodded and wished Grian luck before running off to find a cave. Slowly he filled his inventory up with obsidian and crystals and even more redstone. By the time he returned back to the base to make a nether portal closer to home, Grian had piles of tiny blocks all around him. “You’ve been busy.”

The builder paused his work to look over at Mumbo. “Looks like you have been too. How much do you have?”

Mumbo showed off what he gathered before making a portal. “It took forever to mine the obsidian up, but everything else was simple, now I just need to trade for crying obsidian and collect more quartz.”

Grian paused, looking back and forth between Mumbo and what he had gathered. “Quick question. What gold will you be trading with?”

The redstoner almost spoke before he realized what Grian had. “Oh I’m such a spoon. I guess that means more mining for me.”

Mumbo grumbled somewhat as he walked back off to his mining area, leaving Grian alone with his tiny blocks. The builder sighed and shook his cramping hands out and set his tools down. His next more was to grab some wool and craft up a bag which was quickly filled up with a variety of bit blocks. It took some fiddling, but eventually Grian was happy with the bag and started to slowly create Grumbot’s body. 

Even with the scale much smaller, Grian still found himself having trouble. He wasn’t sure how big or how small to make everything. Sure the redstone could get even smaller than this with those special portals that Mumbo was working on, but he was aware that getting too small could be risky. Grian ended up just staring at a half finished head before he realized what exactly he could do. With the original model, they only really had the head to work with, but now they could also fit redstone circuits in the rest of the body. Sure some of that would be taken up by whatever they would use to help Grumbot move around, but Grian has seen Mumbo’s work and knew there was no way that would take up all the extra space they had.

By the time Mumbo returned again, Grian had fully planned out Grumbot’s body and was now building it up. He took a break to let the redstoner give his critiques before he went off to the nether. Grian made a few tweaks to the design based on the comments he was given, but it was still going well.

The avian was glad he took a break at just the time he did as in the nether, Mumbo had gotten into quite the pickle and ended up dying, leaving him surprised when he spawned back at the house with all his gear. Even though he was upset, Grian couldn’t help but be doubled over with laughter.

“Grian! This isn’t funny!”

“Oh it’s definitely funny. You should have seen the look on your face!”

“I thought I lost the shulker boxes!”

“I forced you to put them down before you even went mining you spoon. I expected you to fall in lava down there.”

“I’m glad you’re so trusting of my skills.” Mumbo rolled his eyes.

“Hey, not my fault the world doesn’t trust you either.” Grian said before devolving into pure laughter again. Mumbo huffed, but even he could see what was so funny about the situation and ended up smiling along. From there, the two of them both took a break to talk things out and see how far along they were. They also used that time to give Xisuma some updates, which based on the messages they got back, was greatly appreciated.

Mumbo sighed as he did his best to keep his balance while Grian stared at him. “Grian can you please just take me over to Grumbot?”

“But you’re just so small!” Grian cooed, patting Mumbo’s head with a finger. The movement left the redstoner trying to stay standing in Grian’s palm.

“Yes, and I would like to stop being small as soon as possible, but I need to put Grumbot circuits together first.”

Grian pouted, but then carried Mumbo over to the robot body and placed him on top. “Once you’re inside, it’ll seem just like you’re normal sized in something that’s really big, like your base. You don’t need to light things up since mobs won’t spawn, but you may still want to use your torches to see where you’re going. If you need more building blocks, just shoot me a message.”

Mumbo nodded then pulled out the chisel he had been given. It was a little odd to hold as it hadn’t quite gone through the same shrinking process he did, but it worked well enough. And while it was on the bigger side, his redstone was all on the smaller side. It ended up making the redstone work take longer than usual as he had trouble seeing everything he was doing and getting into certain nooks and crannies was a chore. The easiest part had been getting all the machinery for the movement working because once you built a moving village in a standard world, making joints was simple with extra tools.

He wasn’t entirely sure how long he had been at it when the shulker box was finally empty, but Mumbo knew for certain he felt exhausted. He had checked over all the redstone so many times he had lost count. Sure, he and Grian could simply turn Grumbot on and see if it worked or not, but they wouldn’t be able to see what was broken unless Mumbo was in the circuits and there were enough moving parts there could be the chance of being crushed. At the same time, he also didn’t want Grumbot to wake back up and freak out from any redstone problems.

The redstoner wanted to keep going, but there was a loud thudding noise which made his head ring a little. “Mumbo, how’s it going? It’s been way too long and I doubt you’ve slept.”

Recovering from the loud noise that was presumably Grian knocking on the metal to get his attention, Mumbo yelled back. “It seems it’s all good to go, but I’m a bit nervous to actually turn it all on!” And then he found his way out a small hatch near where the neck and body connected. “I’ll sit here while you turn things on! Hopefully if there is a problem I can see it from here!”

Mumbo watched as Grian turned Grumbot on and then the two of them waited on bated breath, but as the seconds dragged on, nothing happened. “I guess that didn’t go as hoped.” Grian looked down at Mumbo who was currently peering down into all the redstone.

“This doesn’t make sense. Something not working correctly would be expected, but nothing working at all? I should at least be seeing some light from the redstone working but there’s not- GRIAN!” Mumbo nearly fell over. In trying to figure out what to do he had started mumbling to himself. Being so small it was hard to hear so Grian leaned in closer to hear better. When Mumbo finally looked towards Grian, he didn’t expect him to be standing so close, amplified by the current size discrepancy.

“Do you think I could have a look?” Grian asked in a hushed tone, trying not to scare Mumbo any more. “I know I’m pants with redstone, but I’ve had experience building robots. Sure they don’t come out right all the time, but at least they turn on.”

Mumbo glared at Grian for the slight jab at him before sighing. “Alright, let’s get me back to normal and then get you in there.”

The two of them eventually figured out the problem. The size of all the redstone caused some issues. Nothing that made them have to start building from the ground up thankfully, but some changes needed to be made. A battery made out of redstone blocks, quartz, a few diamonds, and a whole lot of hope was placed in Grumbot. They had made a few versions and tested them and found that while it seemed to work, it would need to be charged after a bit. Fortunately it seemed to last days on it’s own with one charge and while it lasted shorter while actually being used for something, it still worked well.

“But maybe we could make it last longer?” Mumbo said as he started working on a new design as Grian was flopped on his shoulder.

“Mumbooooo! We should have gone to bed hours ago. We’ll just make it worse if we work when we’re tired. Besides, it’ll work perfectly for him just charging at bedtime.”

“But it could wear out over time if it gets over charged.” Mumbo started to complain, but he was silenced by Grian starting to drag him away.

“No, we are sleeping and that is it! We don’t need any more batteries.”

“Wait Grian!” The redstone pulled away. “Let’s do one last thing before going to bed.” He tried to ignore the deadly glare from the sleep deprived builder. “Let’s turn him on.”

Immediately Grian looked much more awake. “Wait are you serious?!”

“We’ve looked over all the redstone a million times and tested the battery to its limits and even have a charger prepared. If it doesn’t work, we go to sleep and can fix it when we’re well rested. And if it does, then he’ll spend the night with us.”

Grian looked a little unsure, but ultimately agreed. He was given the honors and hit the power button, stepping back to Mumbo’s side as the two of them watched hopefully as the monitor of Grumbot’s face lit up. Their breaths were held as a loading bar appeared on the screen, slowly creeping across until it finally disappeared, and the familiar face replaced it.

“Grumbot?” Mumbo spoke up hesitantly, watching as the robot turned to look back at him. For a while there was no answer, making Grian start to fidget nervously. But finally Grumbot looked away from Mumbo and looked down at himself and then around at the place they were in. Mumbo almost spoke again, but then Grumbot beat him to it.

“Is this real? Have I gained an ability to dream? Or have I been dismantled and somehow reached an afterlife?”

Immediately Grian was at Grumbot’s side. “No no no no no! None of that! I mean yes it’s real. You’re not dreaming and you are completely one hundred percent not dead.”

Grumbot looked down again, moving his hands. “I see. Why did you rebuild me? Is there another election coming up?”

“No. No elections. Uh.” Mumbo rubbed the back of his head, trying to find some way to explain what was going on. “Well, you see…”

“Mumbo, can we talk about this in the morning?” Grian spoke up before he could say anything the two of them might regret. “He’s working and it is extremely late. I want to sleep and I want to do it now!”

“I am okay with that.” Grumbot spoke up. “While I am confused and would like to know what is going on, you two do look tired.”

“See, he agrees!” Grian smiled. “Now let’s craft another bed so we definitely have enough room and go to sleep.” And before Mumbo could say anything more, Grian was dragging him and Grumbot to the house.

It was slightly concerning when Grian broke the door to the closet when grabbing his pajamas to change into, but Mumbo figured that could also wait until morning. Especially after he saw Grian pull Grumbot into bed to cuddle with and almost immediately fall asleep. The redstoner soon joined the two of them but didn’t feel quite as tired. “If you want, you can ask a few small questions before bed.”

Grumbot looked up at Mumbo before looking at the bedsheets. “Am I even able to sleep?”

“Well, you should have something of a sleep mode. I’m not sure how well it will function, but you should be able to activate it.”

There was quiet before Grum nodded. “I think I can figure that out. Legs on the other hand…”

“I guess those are pretty new to you. We can help you tomorrow and carry you if need be.”

“Why now?”

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t really been visiting all that often. It makes sense since there’s no election or anything, but if there’s still none then why-”

Mumbo gestured for Grumbot to pause. “It seems you don’t really remember it, but you got damaged. Grian and I actually wanted to do this months ago, but we didn’t have the chance until now.”

He could see as Grumbot seemed to look around, putting some pieces together. “I… I almost killed Dad. I started attacking him out of nowhere. I could have-”

“But you didn’t Grum, and I’m sure Grian doesn’t blame you. If he did, he wouldn’t have built you your current body.”

Grumbot seemed to accept that, staying quiet until he pulled himself under the covers more, lying down. “Goodnight Dad.”

“Goodnight Grum.”

[stronghours]

CUSTOMER SERVICE

E T S Y

Darling Fallon    Sep 3, 2013

Sensational (sin-sational!). i write on behalf of myself (S) and my lover (m). we have been ripped off by bulk-produced molded hoods before and i can only say HAND CUT LATEX ONLY never look back!! worth the money and will eventually pay for itself. neck fit like loving glove and adds dynamic intensifier to breathplay. Lovely proprietor replied prompt when “m” had questions re: breathability (she added extra breathing hole at no extra cost). class acts all around (and not just in our dungeon!) will return for more but “m” needs a break first if u get the drift lol1!! thanks to lady j!

Purchased item: DeMarco FetishWear – Latex Chrysalis Hood (translucent…

3 Helpful

  myMister   Aug 24, 2013

this one writes on behalf and with permission of MISTER. this one quaked with bliss when package arrived. truly awful to behold in the wise hands of MISTER. this one’s neck is small and delicate For His Pleasure and all item adjustments were made to order and did not affect shipping time. if this one could be so efficient For His Pleasure this one would be in heaven on earth. instead, this one is less than a hole. item truly enhanced <O sensation. without a doubt will be used over and over in this household for due punishments of this very worthless one. discrete pgk’ing. thanks to designer J for deepening this one’s service to MISTER.

(NOTE FROM MISTER – WILL PROPRIETER PLEASE PRIVATELY EMAIL TO DISCLOSE IF YOU ARE MALE/FEMALE/OTHER SO “myMister” (this one) WILL BE ABLE TO PROPERLY ADDRESS YOU IN ACCORDANCE WITH ITS FORMAL ROLE)

Purchased item: DeMarco FetishWear – Throttle Collar w/ attached Gas…

1 Helpful

  JulieJuice   August 3, 2013

LOL rip-off!!! cant believe all u ppl sucking this guys dick. says everywhere in product descript. (and you guys reviews!!) that custom sizing is no additl. cost but mine cost more!! only small alteration to titty holes cause of my cleave situation. bullshit. not buying from him again.

Response from J

Hi again Julie. If you check our many enlightening inbox conversations from 7/5-7/16 you will be reminded the additional cost was due to your request of more ring hinge insertions as the standard amount in pattern block “was not bling enough”. Cleavage was irrelevant. Sizing related alterations are always no added cost. Custom alterations requiring additional materials/effort and adjusted pricing will always be discussed and approved on client end before any exchange of payment.

Purchased item: DeMarco FetishWear – Hexagon Restrictor Harness…

HELPFUL?

  HannahCakes!    Jun 1, 2013

Hey Whats Up I’m Caleb (obviously don’t have an etsy) and using my lady’s account. She got the catsuit for my birthday and she looked so sexy like J-Lo or someone. Didn’t want her doin the latex stuff because I thought shed have to shave off all her pubes and personally i like that kind of thing a lot but no harm done. Anyway she was super sexy and the suit thing looked good and stayed together even when we started rockin. To other full bush guys out there if youre girl wants to wear the latex stuff SHE CAN KEEP HER BUSH she just has to use lube to oil up the bush that she has.

Purchased item: DeMarco FetishWear – Domina Catsuit w/ Pussycat Zipper (red…

7 Helpful

  HannahCakes!   3 months ago   Friend   Ignore

Caleb Review

Hi J,

Saw my boyfriend’s 6/1 review and I was like uh ohhh. I asked him to leave one because he went gaga over the catsuit, but I wasn’t expecting all the bush stuff. If you don’t want to be associated with that and want to delete, that’s ok on my end. A little embarrassing! – Hannah!

Reply from DeMarco FetishWear    3 months ago    Friend    Ignore

Hi Hannah. Please don’t worry about it, any positive review is welcome. His feedback has apparently hit a chord with some specific hesitations and concerns buyers have been experiencing but not confiding with me, so I plan on keeping it up for the time being. Enjoy your garment.

  JoeyoftheHerd    3 months ago   Friend   Ignore

Moo-cow snout muzzle thing – (idea i had)

Hi. Is this idea good

Reply from DeMarco FetishWear    3 months ago    Friend   Ignore

Hi Joey. Are you interested in a custom cow muzzle/mask, like the pup play masks on my page or are you just brainstorming for personal reasons?

Reply from JoeyoftheHerd    3 months ago    Friend    Ignore

idk it’s just an idea i had

Reply from DeMarco FetishWear    3 months ago    Friend    Ignore

It’s a cool idea

Reply from JoeyoftheHerd    3 months ago    Friend    Ignore

Thanks man i thought so 2

1234Brett10093456    3 months ago   Friend   Ignore

I REMEMBER YOU FROM RAWHIDE

JULES yes I know who you are and I know your name are you scared yet?? I remember when you used to hang with Roscoe out at Rawhide because Roscoe pretended to hire you because he secretly wanted to fuck and suck you till you cried and I saw all that. I have brown flippy hair, blue eyes and am tall/cut versatile but lean TOP. I know you faked being gay. You heard of bi-now-gay-later but have you heard of gay-then-straight-betrayer (you)? That is fucked up that you still sell stuff but pretend to be a gay guy because that makes your stuff sell better because the gay guys want to fuck you. I know you are faking because my muscle bud Tomas (latino) saw you making out with a ginger chick at the wet bar in Entrance last week. He said it was probably a joke but I know it wasn’t because he said he saw tongue. I wont let you be a breeder without a fight. I am willing to tell EVERYBODY YOURE SECRET. But I wont if you prove to me YOU CAN STILL BE GAY. Im attaching a pic of my cock so you know im not lying and can follow through. I will only believe YOU ARE GAY if we can see each other face/face (i can host only on fri- I have two roommates) and our cocks have to touch and you have to stay hard for at least five minutes while I suck and jack your cock and tongue your balls (shave or dont i will leave that up to you). condoms ok but if you want to be a breeder so bad maybe I will just breed your ass but if youre actually a gay guy you’ll like it and cum thick ropes as I fuck your dirty little slut hole and youll tell me youre a hole while I fuck it with the shiny precum head of my cut fucking cock (7inches erect). you will smell my hole and BECOME GAY again IT WILL HAPPEN  - Brett Costino

  TheSteelyDanMan   2 months ago   Friend   Ignore

Latex & Breastfeeding Concerns

Good morning, J I hope you are well. Returning customer, here. My kajira/wife and I are splinter Gor lifestylers (NOT KAOTIANS) [link] but are currently isolated due to our deviation from standard kajira beautification ideals and the arrival of our first child (girl - Gemma) two months ago. My wife’s submission has usually been expressed fashion-wise in various strict latex outfits, a few of which you have kindly provided us over the past couple of years. Naturally, the arrival of a mini-me results in some changes! My wife, insecure after birth, wants to return to strict full-coverage latex, but this desire is at odds with her physical situation of actively nursing Gemma and we both have worries. Does the constriction of latex effect or otherwise harm milk production, or could secondhand latex exposure harm our baby? I imagine you have catered to many lifestyle situations where this might be relevant so I thought I would ask. Thanks very much. LEO

Reply from DeMarco FetishWear    2 months ago    Friend    Ignore

Hi Leo. While I have catered to many lifestyles, I’m afraid I must exercise discretion in this situation, as it would be on par with giving medical advice. I will say any allergy is a possibility and one should exercise undue care with a very young infant, not just in matters of latex. I highly encourage you and your wife to discuss this with her doctor as frankly as possible. In the long run it might be worth reevaluating aspects of your wife’s submission and temporarily making do with latex pieces that do not restrict the breasts, while nursing is a part of her daily reality (I’m sure I don’t have to tell you examples are available on my page). Best of luck and congratulations on the new addition to your family.

  NoraBarnacle    2 months ago   Friend   Ignore

A sincere offer…

Several months ago, I bought a pair of latex gauntlet gloves from your shop. Since then, astonishing changes have come over me. I used to be high-powered, highly controlled, a formidable woman (natural ash blond, green eyes, 45”-40”-44”) I was determined to keep these feelings to myself, but I can no longer resist, as I wholeheartedly believe your Dominating spirit, imbued in the gauntlets, is leading me forcefully but masterfully into your care. If it pleases you, know I have not touched my aching slit for one month total as I am uncertain whether you desire me to feel pleasure that is not approved by you. There are no images of you on your site, but I have drawn an accurate picture of you in my mind and I know you are the Man that I never knew I was waiting for, the Man who will lead me, the Man who will hold my neck and strike my forehead to his knee in his insistence that I allow myself to be led. When I wear the gauntlets, they are your own gallant hands restricting my weak bones. I can no longer resist. I can no longer resist. I can no longer resist. I can no longer resist. I can no longer resist. I can no longer resist. I can no longer resist. I can no longer resist. I do not desire to resist. Please message back so I can properly present my acquiescence, body and soul, unto you. I squat disgracefully on my plump thighs, full of whorish tremor that makes me unworthy, but still I desire. I will service your home with my ardent hands and service your thick and striving cock with my wet tongue. Respond to this small soul. I submit to your gallant wisdom – A Secret Admirer

  RicoMetals   1 month ago   Friend   Ignore

Redhead Modle in Pic for Serve Her Serrated Corselette

Hey man-to-man who is she. I love redheads. Does she modle for other people/would she modle for my pieces? there’s no head in the pick – what’s her nose situation? we could all do collab and I think it would be hot. Let me kno - RICO

Reply from DeMarco FetishWear    1 month ago    Friend    Ignore

Hi Rico. I have not blocked you (yet) because said model wanted me to reply to you first and inform you, she’s already an established performer in her own right and does not want to model for a guy who “thinks I need some sissy seamstress to pimp me out to shitty welders online”. As I only have basic welding experience, I can offer no further comment or defense on your behalf.

  DerryBerry454   1 month ago   Friend   Ignore

Inquiry re: standard leather sleep-sack dimensions

Hello Miss J, quick question:

I will buy this item no hesitation no delay if you tell me right now about your vagina. Questions I prioritize:

1.     Color labia (outer)

2.     Color labia (inner – aroused)

3.     Clit length in centimeters or whatever measurement is most flattering to you

4.     Range of clit engorgement

5.     Depth of vaginal canal (I will allow ballpark figure as I know not everyone has graded speculums lying around)

6.     Percentage of clit orgasms v. vaginal orgasms – bonus points if you describe uterine orgasm, if that is your experience (no pressure to answer last part, as I understand it is not necessarily vagina-adjacent)

7.     Are you hairy? What color?

8.     When you wash your vagina do you douche or do you use fingers to rub through labia folds and that is it?

9.     Color of menstrual blood

10.  If you wear panties, do you find the crotch of your panties degrades due to PH of your vaginal discharge? (give me the qualities and I will calculate this for you)

While a picture of your vagina is welcome (and will only be for my private use) I really do like gathering these stats (I’m kind of a nerd) and would appreciate as much openness on your behalf as possible and you will benefit too because I’ll give you money for your lovely product. Talk to you soon! 😊

  B O A R D

[RUBBERVALLEY FIENDS THREAD 3/3 2006-PRESENT] TOPICS: 850 POSTS: 10,356

DungeonMaster (MOD 2): Hey people, we’ve reached the end of the summer and you know what that means – Ivan himself of the halls of Rubber Valley presents inaugural post of their annual sweeps week filming extravaganza – first photoset already up and we’ve got the goddamn brilliant LYDIA SUCKS sons! The greatest bitch on the face of the planet almost psyched us out but she’s here she’s low and she’s ready to blow. Vid upload will probably take till tomorrow to render but we’ve got some great pic galleries already. Ivan really spoiling us pigs lmfao. Seeing lots of setup and dress-up and behind scenes stuff for yall candid pervs. We’ve got full body latex and face coverage hoods and I see a breathing tube and the barn inversion setup. Possible inverted ceiling fuck? The boys can dream. Links to download pics results in PERMABAN – only official links to Rubber Valley site allowed, don’t know how often I have to say it. You want to pass ripped screenshots you do that through email *casts pearls before swine*

GOBgobGOB: no pic of lyds upside down yet ☹

LordJim: Not interested until I see Ivan haul out the FuckRacers from two years ago – wonder why he doesn’t bring those around more often? Great view stats on current vids and who doesn’t like a fat ass getting auto-fucked while she steers the go-cart supine?

SUCKPUNTER: lmfao all views are you bro

GOBgobGOB: D I R E C T H I T

SUCKPUNTER: hey lordjim where’d you learn the word supine

LordJim: Yeah “laugh out loud” very funny guys.

SUCKPUNTER: did you learn it at college

DungeonMaster (MOD 2): Lydia looks gr8 folks. Queen pristine and ready to cream. SUCKPUNTER – chill out because I’ve got my eye on you. Don’t take the bait Jim. You’re like thirty.

SUCKPUNTER: at least I don’t get off on bitches doing the pinewood derby

LockSTOCK2FUCKINGBARRELS: LYDIA!

GOBgobGOB: LYDIA!!!

McLovin: LYDIA LYDIA LYDIA

TheWorldofMartinAmis: Goddess. Wish she’d get her boobs done though.

LockSTOCK2FUCKINGBARRELS: same! I’ve been waiting for years for her to get into xtreme body mod. Right up her alley. If she’s at EXXXOTICA EXPO next year I’m going to try to get her meet and greet and ask. I know tattoo guys who’d pay HER to give her first tat.

McLovin: Lydia wouldn’t go. She’s like indie transgressive.

DungeonMaster (MOD 2): nice to see you again lockSTOCK. I see your POV but Lydia has several interviews where she says most of her viewers see her bod as a clean palate in the art of pain – as in, wounds have to go away in order for us to appreciate a fresh ruining ; ) tats and huge implants are a little tougher to work around. Anyway in my mind you can fix bad tits but you can’t fix bad attitude

ThatOneFootGuy: id suck her feet

McLovin: woah fuck 4th latex pic in dressing series with her mouth open and her eyes shut – who the lube guy with his arm right down her front?

SUCKPUNTER: lol hand clear to her pussy and hes not even hard faggot

McLovin: scope the ginger amazon in the background with camera – new girl? Don’t recognize. Didn’t know Ivan was bringing new people around this year’s sweeps.

LordJim: I wondered too when I saw. I’m sure DungeonMaster mod understands if I copy/paste following from Ivan (no pics, text w/actress info):

Newcomers are always welcome in RUBBER VALLEY (especially if they’re lovely, and especially if they’re ladies!) and this old goat is pleased to welcome DOMME LUX, our friendly neighbor down south in that little town called Chicago. Mysterious as she is alluring, you’ll see her shining light sampling tidbits of delight off our Valley Girls throughout the uploads this month (or even taking a crack at a couple!) We’re just getting to know her, but I have a feeling she’s a generous gal at heart as she kindly offered us the services of her Personal Valet, Jules DeMarco, who himself spoiled us all year with devious latex devices for our steadfast daring dollies after the unfortunate 2012 passing of our beloved torture designer Merrick Marvel (memoriam post 03/04/2012). Check out Jules’s Half-Bag Breast Mummifier in scheduled post 7/22 (Heather Bunny in the inverted Wench Wrench) the diabolical Arachnae-Hood (Lacey Jane, spinning in our trusty Landscape(her) Rolling Pin 7/16) and the Double-Fuck Full Body Boa Binder with eerie inflatable bubble hood (Lydia Sucks, finale post 7/31, don’t miss it, SUBSCRIBE). I must confess, we took advantage - the poor fella ran himself ragged helping us with film prep all week. So as an apology we let him get up close and personal with Rubber Valley’s reigning heroine LYDIA SUCKS fitting her in a custom four-limb black latex catsuit with half-face hood, made especially for her brave beautiful bod. He takes a good long time greasing her up before Ivan and Barry get her hoisted and joisted and in her best bitch-bat position among the rafters of the exalted Rubber Valley barn, where we leave her to squirm in terror! (but let’s get real – what scares Lydia? We’re wracking our brains!) Uh-oh, is Domme Lux looking jealous in the background? Is she plotting a little comeuppance for our Lovely Lady Lydia? Only one way to find out – SUBSCRIBE!

DungeonMaster (MOD 2): Np lordjim, if you hadn’t posted I was going to. Looks like we’ve got fresh meat in the valley.

TheWorldofMartinAmis: very pretty girl, but always bummed when a new one turns out to be top. Call me old fashioned, I come to the Valley for slaves.

SUCKPUNTER: firecrotch

GOBgobGOB: brb too busy crankin it. milky gingerbread titties come to daddy

McLovin: @TheWorldofMartinAmis, Ivan always has at least one femdom around. Room for everybody in the valley

LockSTOCK2FUCKINGBARRELS: holy shit I know that guy.

SUCKPUNTER: lmfao faggots know faggots

LockSTOCK2FUCKINGBARRELS: no for real. His real name is Jules Marinelli. I worked with him one summer lifeguarding beaches for the park’s district. Our boss found his website where he sells his sex stuff, and it was this whole big thing. Found the kink club Entrance through that (check it out if you’re in my hood ever – huge, clean, not too much gay shit, great ladies of all stripes hanging around, but limits on drinking if you’re trying to access certain levels). He’s bi. He’s either secretly Domme Lux’s slave or Domme Lux is his slave and it’s mega on the DL because it’d hurt her career if it got out she could ‘verse. There’s all this gossip.

SUCKPUNTER: bi guys r fags

DungeonMaster (MOD 2): SUCKPUNTER – that’s strike one. lockstock – not deleting your post because from what I can see JDM doesn’t/isn’t acting in explicit scenes, but let’s cool it with doxxing info. Looks like he’s had an experience with that before, and as a small business owner myself, I know how it can suck. We aren’t gossiping high school girls. Settle back and enjoy what Ivan gives us.

GOBgobGOB: *sees dudes in the chat and stops jacking off*

LockSTOCK2FUCKINGBARRELS: NP mod, feel free to delete it later before it causes problems.

TheWorldofMartinAmis: going back to previous discussion – don’t think a breast job automatically constitutes body modification

DungeonMaster (MOD 2): think about it martinamis, it’s a slippery slope – you want to see some swollen battered fish get destroyed, or a fresh natural girl get destroyed?

SUCKPUNTER: i am not a faggot and a whore’s a whore and im here to see whores fucking destroyed

GOBgobGOB: *tony soprano voice* she was a HOOOOER

SUCKPUNTER: fag or cunt all whores get fucked

LordJim: Mod, step up. This isn’t going to get better. With all due respect

SUCKPUNTER: fag or cunt ALL WHORES GET FUCKED

DungeonMaster (MOD 2): yeah, already done. That should be the last of him. Don’t know why I expected that situation to turn out differently.

  FROM: lydias-verified@terrorproductions.com

TO: JulesDM86@gmail.com

Subject: Debrief – valley week

Jules,

As discussed, attached is current info for my old webmaster service from when I had to run my own fansite. Decent price and decent vendor system. Can only be an improvement on what you have now. That is not an insult, but I know it sounds like one. Stay with me.

[link] [link] [link]

And above, the top three most trafficked boards I’ve found following my own career and the rubber valley gang. We’ve caused quite a stir already and its only July 15th. I wouldn’t count on this causing an uptick in your business, but I think you know that. The standard gentleman at home spending twenty bucks a month for guaranteed links to a woman being fucked inside out while wearing a sensory deprivation hood simply doesn’t translate him to spending 100-200 dollars, contacting a seller, taking measurements, and going through the effort to order he and his special girly the hood itself. But I know you believe you’ve chosen your life the same way I believe I’ve chosen my life and won’t whine. I will say, if your ego is bruised, that your clothes are wonderful. They feel maybe half like death. I’ll wear them again and again.

On a funnier note: I have accounts myself on all the above message boards and post semi-regularly. It might amuse you to do the same thing, but you need to be careful regarding your identity. Feedback from viewers is never relevant, but it needs to be pure (don’t ask me why – my brains are fucked out). I won’t tell you who I am, and you won’t tell me who you are. Maybe we’ll find each other.

I wouldn’t tell your Cathy, since some sensitive (if inaccurate) information is flying around. Your instinct towards privacy, while cute and old fashioned, is an apt instinct. Looks like the good people of Chicago can’t keep their fucking mouths shut. Will you be able to find a straight job if your work now goes up like a dead dog’s gut? Don’t despair. Your nice long cock dropped so well down my throat while your Cathy beat my clit with the edge of your belt (nice touch – whose idea was that?) so while you might not get another chance to perch in a lifeguard’s throne, you might very well have a future in film. You’re vigorous, discrete, disciplined, clean, and a cutie-pie. Have your Cathy make some films of you alone or you two together. It’ll excite her, so you have no choice but to be excited yourself. You’re excited reading this. You believe you chose this.

Anyway – Cathy! Don’t be insulted on her behalf. I loved playing with you both. She’s kind and a lot of fun, which are virtues I still let myself appreciate in others. Let her know I appreciate how she let me use you. She’s a good girl and has a good future in store, especially with her personal valet running her life. Pick her outfits, pick her makeup, pick her clients, pick her laundry soap – is it already like that? I want to be buried alive, but you want to be buried in chores. Please dream big, Jules.

Rubber valley is where I have the most fun out of all the shoots I have in a year, but I really was lucky that you two showed up. Poor old Merrick Marvel (not even that old – colon cancer). But out with him and in with you. I enjoyed our river talk and I felt very safe in the car with you at the wheel, though I know I tormented you a little (but I’m pretty sure Cathy helped you out later with that – will you write back to me what she did to you, and if she let you come?) At one point you were with Ivan in the garage, and I tried to have a little talk with her about oblivion, but she either understood my point and got scared, or simply didn’t understand. It’s unfortunate, kind of soul-sucking, how our dominant “loved ones” transform into necessary evils. Adjust the tube. Grasp the handle. Move the thigh. Use the vocal cord to form the order. But what do they know? I never knew how to explain.

I’ve attached some personal pictures of me. I like knowing that you have them. I won’t contact you again except under strict business purposes, so let me sum up. Serve Cathy well. Don’t let her get bullied. Flourish creatively. Keep that belt. Fuck as often as your body commands you to fuck (if I suspect that sometimes your body is Cathy’s body by proxy, then this number will double, perhaps triple, but the choice is out of your hands because she owns your cock). You have a lot of growing up to do. Don’t despair. More to come.

We won’t see each other soon, but we’ll see each other again. Ciao! 

I expect improvements.

XOXOXOXOXOXOX

Lydia S

[7-wonders]

Thinking of Sin

Summary: Michael, having fully embraced his title as Antichrist and heir to the throne of Hell, invites you to join him as his father’s church, the Church of Night, celebrates one of their most sacred holidays: Lupercalia, the festival of passion. (a Chilling Adventures of Sabrina au!)

Word Count: 6374

A/N: (hello this is a re-upload bc it wasn’t showing up in the tags last time. if it continues to do this I think I’m gonna throw my computer out a window) This is, by far, the longest thing I’ve written for this blog. I’ve been very excited to write this, and I hope that you enjoy this take on Michael Langdon and Lupercalia! Reader is a human in this one, but I’ve got another version in the works where reader is a witch! Feedback is greatly appreciated, and if you liked this, I’d love if you left a like, comment, reblog, or note in my inbox! Enjoy!

Warnings: Sex, Satanism, mentions of Pagan rituals, oral (female receiving), fandom crossovers, blood mentions.

The small, 50’s-style diner is decorated with all varieties of traditional Valentine’s Day symbols: hearts and Cupids and bows and arrows, all in hues ranging from the blushiest of pinks to the deepest of reds. The fluorescent lighting, which normally washes patrons out, only serves to make the man sitting across from you look even more sculpted. He smirks when he catches you staring again, hooking his foot around your calf playfully from under the table.

Although a roadside diner might not be an obvious choice for a date, anything is better than yet another date spent on the grounds of the Hawthorne School, where Michael currently studies magic. The teachers are all extremely strict about their star pupil, which means that Michael usually sneaks you in in order to spend time with you. Today is different, however, with a prelude for some magical holiday warranting an early weekend for the students. While you don’t possess any magical abilities, it’s not at all difficult to skip a couple of classes on a Friday, allowing you a last-minute date with Michael.

“It’s so easy to tell when you’re not listening to me.” Michael teases, long fingers drumming on the table. “If you’re not staring at me, then it’s the far-away look in your eyes.”

“Who can blame me for not being able to focus when I have someone as beautiful as you sitting across from me?” You relish in the light blush that paints his cheeks, Michael obviously not being used to you turning the tables and complimenting him suddenly.

“Anyways, where did you zone out at?”

“Hmm, right after you started explaining why you get an early weekend. Lupus column or something?” Michael snickers, sipping his strawberry milkshake to avoid laughing loudly in the quiet diner.

“Lupercalia.” He corrects.

“Lupercalia, then. What exactly is Lupercalia?”

“Well, it’s an ancient festival, originally started by Roman witches and warlocks. It was instituted as a way to purify Rome and bring about health and fertility. It’s a very sacred holiday for us-”

“Even though you’re not just an average warlock.” You interrupt, winking conspiratorially.

You figured out Michael’s ‘secret’ pretty quickly after you saw Ms. Mead convulsing in the driveway next to yours. Not knowing that she was now a robot and was shorting out, you had assumed the woman was having a heart attack. When Michael had opened the door to your incessant knocking and you had barged in with the unconscious woman, the pentagram and vague smell of sulfur made you a little extremely suspicious. It was the sight of Michael being covered in blood that made you demand for him to tell you what was going on, or else you would call the police and have them investigate.

“Yes, even though I’m not an ‘average warlock,’” he agrees, “it’s still a sacred holiday for the witches and warlocks who worship my father.”

Being the Antichrist guarantees that Michael is treated like a prince at Hawthorne, which is directly ruled by the Church of Night. Michael’s treated like a prince at most of the ‘witchy’ places he takes you to, something that you’re still getting used to.

“I’m guessing it’s not like Valentine’s Day, though?”

“Not exactly. The Church, as you know, directly follows my father’s teachings. These include giving into your wants and desires, especially those of the…carnal nature.”

“The carnal nature? Oh! Ohhh…” Heat quickly rises to your cheeks, avoiding eye contact while Michael chuckles. “So it’s like a sex festival?” Your voice drops at the word ‘sex,’ even though there’s nobody within hearing range.

“Well nobody calls it that, but sort of.”

“What do you, uh, do to celebrate?”

“The festival’s made up of three different events. There’s the Matching, where witches dance with ribbons around what’s basically a Maypole and are paired with a random warlock once the music stops. After that is the Courting, where the couples participate in a ritual to ensure health and wellness. The last event is called the Hunt, where the witches hunt their warlocks. Once caught, they…” Michael’s voice breaks as he grimaces, making your eyes widen as you quickly realize what he means.

“Is this a mandatory holiday? Like, the underage witches and warlocks do it too?”

“No! No, it’s not mandatory, and nobody under the age of sixteen can participate.”

“So…you’ve participated in it before?” Although Michael’s always been deliberately vague on how old he truly is, you know that he’s at least 20, if not older. That means, considering he’s the heir to the throne of Hell, he’s probably been involved in his father’s festivals and holidays. It makes you mildly jealous to imagine him participating in something like this with a pretty, powerful witch.

“I haven’t. Last year was my first at Hawthorne, and I was still just trying to get the hang of being at a new school. I wasn’t sure if I would participate this year, which is why I wanted to ask you.”

“Michael, I’m not your mom. If you want my permission to be a part of Lupercalia, you really don’t need it.” You grumble, snatching a stray french fry from your plate and eating it to avoid showing that this bugs you. Since it’s Michael you’re sitting across from, though, he automatically knows.

“I was going to ask if you’d participate in Lupercalia with me, (Y/N).”

“Oh.” You avert your eyes, embarrassed at how blatantly jealous you got. “I thought you said the pairing-up of the witches and warlocks was random?”

“Leave that to me.” His eyes twinkle, and you just know that he’s going to use some sort of magic to rig the festival if you agree.

“Well, what about the fact that I’m a ‘mortal?’ I thought that the Church didn’t like mortals intermingling with you guys.”

“One, you’re not just a regular mortal, you’re my mortal.” To increase the sentiment, he reaches across the table and grips your hand in his. “And two, I’m not just a regular warlock. They sort of have to let me do what I want.”

“Bullying your teachers into letting you bring your mortal girlfriend to a dirty magical festival? You truly are your father’s son.” You joke.

“You’re stalling.” It’s not a question; you and he both know that you’re stalling. It’s not like you and Michael haven’t had sex before, but encroaching on this sacred festival that’s also extremely intimate makes you feel very hesitant.

“Promise we’ll get paired up?”

“Of course. Does that mean you’ll do it?”

Sighing, you nod. “Yes, I’ll do it.”

You defeatedly sit back in your seat, grabbing your own milkshake and taking a hearty drink while Michael grins. Even though you’re pouting, you can’t deny the tiny butterflies of excitement starting to spring up in your stomach. You’re jumping headfirst into a world that’s dark, supernatural, and a little sexy. Who couldn’t be slightly excited for that?

The Matching

The Matching, which you assumed would be at Hawthorne, is actually at Hawthorne’s ‘sister school,’ the Academy of Unseen Arts. Michael had easily transmuted both of you to what had first appeared to be an abandoned train depot. Apparently, the old adage of “never judge a book by its’ cover” applies to buildings as well. The moment you stepped foot inside, you were taken aback by the large, gothic-style school. The walls are all a rich red, with a golden railing encircling the second level that overlooks the entryway. A giant statue of what you’re assuming is Satan is pushed to the back, a large Maypole with red, black, and white ribbons taking center stage. Witches and warlocks mill about, all bowing their heads respectfully whenever they pass Michael and speaking in hushed tones while sneaking glances at him.

You cling tightly to Michael, free hand tightly grasping the hem of your black dress that’s accented with white flowers. All of these witches are so dark and beautiful, looking at Michael from under their heavily-painted lids. You can practically feel the power oozing off of them, sending chills down your spine. Michael has a protective arm around your waist, sensing how nervous you are. In an effort to distract yourself while the host school gets everything set up, you glance up towards the ceiling.

The stained glass windows that act as a sun-roof are beautiful, but the longer you look at them, the more you can see the Satanic imagery that makes up a larger story. There’s flames, stakes, the goat-headed figure of Satan, and magic. There’s also a man with bright blue eyes and golden curls, standing amongst one set of flames while someone who looks almost like you (if you’re squinting hard enough, you try to convince yourself) stands at the man’s side. Casting your eyes slightly downwards, the teachers from the various schools and academies stand on the second floor. Michael’s professors were not exactly pleased that he was bringing his mortal girlfriend, but Father Blackwood, the so-called ‘High Priest’ of the Church, was more than welcoming.

“He has to be,” Michael had explained to you, “or else I’ll report back to my father. Blackwood’s on thin-enough ice as it is.”

When Michael stiffens beside you, you look away from the teachers and towards him.

“What’s wrong?” You’ve been with Michael long enough to know that something has to be extremely wrong for him to even have a reaction like this.

“Sabrina Spellman is what’s wrong.” You look in the direction that Michael’s glowering, only to see a small blonde girl chatting with her friends.

“She doesn’t look very threatening.” You tease, hoping to diffuse the situation.

“Sabrina fled her dark baptism and abandoned the Church, while still trying to keep her powers. She fights Satan at every turn and is convinced that she’ll ‘take him down,’ whatever that means.” Michael says lowly, clenching his jaw.

“So, not your friend, got it.” You mutter.

You’re both startled by someone yelling for the men to take their places. A ring of chairs has been placed around the Maypole, backs facing the ribbons. Michael grabs the ribbon attached to the chair closest to him, unlooping it and handing the white fabric to you before he takes a seat. Your hands are still interlocked, and he smiles reassuringly at you while the same person starts giving directions.

“Alright ladies, you know the rules! When the music stops, take a seat on the warlock…or Antichrist…” he stops as everyone giggles, making you look at Michael with panicked eyes, “closest to you.”

“I’ve got it all under control, remember? Enjoy yourself.” He reminds you one last time, rubbing his thumb over the ring on your right index finger; an onyx band with blue and white stones forming starry constellations, given to you by Michael for your birthday.

The music starts up, the violinist playing a folksy tune. Michael grins at you one last time before you start moving in the same direction as the rest of the women. You don’t know this dance, and even if you did, there’s no way you’d look nearly as graceful as everyone else. Still, you try your hardest to copy the moves of the witch next to you, a redhead that has her eyes dead-set on Sabrina Spellman. Michael turns his head to watch you dance, smiling the entire time as you start to get the hang of things. It’s not that long of a song, you realize as the violinist plays one last, long note, and your heart thunders when you see that you’re all the way across the room from Michael.

He can sense your trepidation, winking at you before coughing into the crook of his elbow. The note continues to echo through the room, much to the confusion of the man no longer playing the instrument. The same tone continues to play until you’re right in front of Michael, stopping the moment he coughs again. You nearly fall into his lap, laying your forehead against his gratefully.

“Told you I had it all under control.” You giggle at his cocky statement, relishing in the feeling of his lips on yours.

“I didn’t doubt you for one second.”

“Yeah right, I could practically taste your fear when you thought the last note was being played.”

“Because I didn’t know what you were planning on doing!” You argue playfully, not able to fight the large smile working onto your face.

“Was this as terrible as you thought it would be?” Michael asks, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Considering I ended up with you as my match, I’d say yes.”

“You brat!” Michael’s eyes gleam as he grabs your lower lip between his teeth and pulls, eliciting a squeal from you.

You’re not sure if it’s the sensuality of the festival itself, the intoxication that happens whenever you’re around someone whom you share feelings for, or if there was an actual spell being performed during that dance, but every couple in the room is currently engaged in various levels of PDA. And really, you can’t complain, since your gorgeous Antichrist is right under you.

The Courting

Silver light from the near-full moon peeks out between the gnarled tree branches forming a canopy above your head, bathing the group of teens and young adults in a soft light. It’s chilly out, a fog floating low towards the ground the only remaining sign that there was previously rain. You can still smell it, a fresh scent mixed in with the earthy smell that’s so prevalent in a forest. Breathing out through your mouth, you watch as your breath forms visibly in front of you. Michael’s arm is wrapped around your shoulder, the sight of his red leather gloves coupled with his black leather trench coat sending your heart racing. Your overcoat isn’t nearly as nice, but then again you didn’t expect to be making a fashion statement in the middle of the woods.

When Michael had told you that ‘the Courting’ was a ritual for health and wellness, you didn’t envision it taking place in a dark forest. That’s really your own fault, though, since nothing can ever just be normal when it comes to witches and warlocks (and a stray Antichrist).

“Witches, warlocks, Antichrist, and mortal,” the same man who played the violin at the Matching says, not even bothering to hide his smirk, “congratulations, you have been matched.”

Michael glances at you the same time that you look at him, both of you rolling your eyes at how clever this man thinks that he is.

“Tonight, you and your paramour shall go into the woods and re-enact the Courting. What that means is that each couple shall go into the woods and disrobe and anoint themselves and lie under this blessed Lupercalian moon, absorbing the potency of the Goddess Selene herself.”

Although Michael had explained to you that participants still kept their undergarments on, the idea of taking off any layer of clothing in this weather is not too appealing.

“Anoint ourselves with what?” You whisper to Michael.

“Patience is a virtuous skill, (Y/N).”

“And you’re one to lecture me on virtues.” You fire back, snickering when Michael lightly pinches your arm.

“Abstinence is encouraged….” The warlock emcee is interrupted by a chorus of boos from the people surrounding you, “…in anticipation of the powerful release that concludes Lupercalia.”

Michael looks at you when you stifle a laugh, winking at the innuendo.

“However, should couples be moved to unite, well, I’m sure the Dark Lord would not oppose.”

“Glad we have your dad’s unholy blessing to get it on tonight.” You mutter, making Michael bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“Like that’s ever stopped us before.” He retorts, burying his face in your hair to hide his blush.

A beautiful dark-skinned girl with bleached, cropped hair produces baskets from behind a tree. You can’t see what’s under the blanket that tops each basket, but you can hear something clanking around inside.

“The milk and blood are for the purification, the oysters and figs are for fertility and virility. The cherries are for…popping.” The girl says, leaning in close to Sabrina Spellman in what you assume is a way to tease her.

“A word or two of caution.” Father Blackwood steps forward. “Each couple must stay together the entire night, and, above all, do not stray from the path. All manner of lust-filled creatures stalk the woods during the Lupercalia. Now, with the Dark Lord’s blessing, let the Courting begin.”

A long, low note sounds from a horn, spurring the couples to all start moving down the path. Michael grabs your hand in his, and you can feel the chill of the cool leather through your own knitted glove.

“I can’t believe that this is how I die. From knowingly and willingly going into a scene that’s the beginning of a horror movie.” You lament, letting Michael lead you behind all of the others.

“We’re not going to die, (Y/N), don’t be so dramatic.”

“Are you kidding me? Imagine this as the synopsis: ‘A group of young adults jaunt off into various parts of the forest in order to participate in a carnal ritual, that is, if they can get past all of the hungry beasts that lurk just out of their eyesight.’” You say dramatically.

“How did you manage to successfully make a festival of passion into a horror movie?”

“It’s pretty easy when the material’s right in front of me.”

The deeper Michael leads you into the woods, the warmer it gets. Soon, you’re tugging off your gloves and unbuttoning your coat in an attempt to cool down.

“How is it suddenly so warm?” You wonder.

“The magic of the Lupercalian moon. The further into nature we get, the more potent the moon is.” He finds a clearing among the trees just off of the path, deeming it acceptable enough to set the basket down.

“So if you don’t want to have sex, the ever-rising temperature is still gonna force you to take your clothes off.” You grab the blanket out of the picnic basket, the bottles and other items knocking against each other. Unfolding it, you lay it on top of the earth, Michael straightening the other end out.

“It’s just a way for everybody to be able to fully enjoy Lupercalia, even if it is in the middle of February.” Michael unpacks the bottles, as well as two knives.

“What are the knives for?”

“We don’t actually cut ourselves, it’s just an easy way to get the anointing oils onto ourselves. You use the flat edge of the blade.” He explains, standing up once he’s satisfied.

The red gloves come off first, Michael removing them one finger at a time. After shrugging off his coat, he looks at you expectantly.

“Are you going to take your clothes off as well?”

“Oh, right!” You blush, letting your coat fall to the forest floor as Michael looks on with a wide grin.

After taking your clothes off, you’re left standing in your matching bra and panties (black, of course, just like everything when it involves witches and warlocks), and Michael in only his boxers. Although this is definitely not the first time that Michael’s seen you like this, you still avert your eyes and cross your arms over your chest in shyness. Michael’s skin almost glows under the light of the moon, his eyes looking nearly luminous while he reaches down to grab the first part of the ritual. Dipping a knife in the bottle of blood, he hands it to you before repeating the action for his own knife.

“Do you remember what to say?” He asks, not at all shocked when you shake your head. “‘By Lilith’s blood,’ okay?”

Twirling the knife in your hand, you grip the cool, ridged handle of the weapon that you’re supposed to use to sensually drag blood across your boyfriend’s forehead. You glance at him, waiting for him to nod before lifting the knife.

“By Lilith’s blood.” You recite, Michael breathing in deeply as the blood makes contact with his skin.

“By Lucifer’s love.” Michael lifts his own knife, and you wrinkle your nose as blood is applied to your forehead.

“Can I ask you a question?” You and Michael both sink to your knees, Michael dabbing a cloth with the provided milk.

“Of course.”

“Is the Lilith in the myths real? Like…Satan’s concubine and all that? The mother of demons?” Michael grimaces, rolling his eyes quickly.

“Basically, yes.”

“So is she sort of like your step-mom?”

“My father and Lilith aren’t married, (Y/N).” You giggle as Michael wipes the wet cloth across your forehead. “Good, keep laughing. We’re supposed to laugh during this part of the ritual.”

“Why?”

“I honestly have no clue.” You can’t stop laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation and the conversation, Michael handing you the cloth once he’s done. “But yes, you could say that she’s technically my stepmother.”

“But you’ve never met her.”

“No, not at all. Not that I’m complaining, though. I’d rather meet my father.” Michael laughs when you cross your eyes and stick your tongue out at him, taking the opportunity to wipe the blood off of him.

“Do you think you’ll get to meet him one day?” He’s never really talked about his ‘true’ family before, and the only time he’s ever mentioned the parents who were a part of his infernal conception was when you got him so drunk on Mike’s Hard Lemonades (who would have thought so-called ‘bitch beers’ would make the Antichrist a weepy drunk?) that he ended up setting his own hair on fire.

“I hope so. Here, eat.” He holds a fig up to your mouth, and you grimace while taking a bite of it.

“Eugh, that’s probably the grossest part of this whole thing.”

“But wait, there’s oysters too.” Michael eats the rest of the fig, winking while you shoot him a horrified look.

You just want to get eating an oyster over with, so you reach over and grab one. Taking a deep breath, you plug your nose before tossing your head back and swallowing it down like a shot. Shuddering, you stick your tongue out as the slimy texture forces you to choke back a gag. Michael knocks back the oyster far easier than you did, only slightly grimacing and pulling a face.

“So what do we do now?” You ask.

“We lay next to each other and soak up the light of the moon.”

“Now that’s something I can get behind.” Michael grips your hand, tugging you down on top of him easily.

You roll off of Michael, still not letting go of his hand. Looking up at the moon, your eyes widen at just how big and bright it is. You’ve never quite seen anything like it, and if it weren’t for Michael’s laughter you wouldn’t tear yourself away from the sight.

“What?”

“I’m just…extremely lucky to have you.” You let your head fall to the side, grinning at Michael.

“I’m lucky to have you, too.” He leans over and kisses you softly, the sounds of wind rustling through the trees and owls calling out to one another forming a symphony above your heads.

Sleep claims both of you before you can even think about progressing to anything beyond lazy kissing. When you wake up, the gray light of dawn paints the forest in a new light, one that’s much colder than it was last night. At some point during the night, Michael draped his large coat over your bodies, which is greatly appreciated right now. Michael sits up and runs a hand through his hair, cringing at the tangles.

“I’ve never seen your hair so out of place before.” You tease.

“This will be the last time you see it like this.” He warns, standing up and finding his clothes from where they were thrown last night.

“Sorry we fell asleep before either of us were ‘moved’ to unite.” You quote, catching the sweater Michael tosses your way with ease.

“That just means tonight is going to be even better.” Your heart jumps at the reminder, causing Michael to look up when he hears. “Are you nervous?”

“No, I just don’t know what to expect!  Seeing as how each ritual has just gotten more and more strange, I’m assuming that this one’s is going to be wild.” Michael smirks, helping you stand and wrapping you in your coat.

“Hmm, guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

“I guess so.”

The Hunt

Your earlier suspicions were dead-on; not only are you back in the same area of the woods that are now lit with a bunch of torches, but you’re also wearing nothing but a white satin slip and a pair of black stockings under a red cape that makes you look like Little Red Riding Hood. A bright red lip completes the look, as it does for all the witches around you. For the first time since Lupercalia started, you don’t feel entirely out of place surrounded by all these mystical women. You’re all dressed the same, and you’re all here to participate in Lupercalia. Tonight, you have far more important things to worry about than judgemental witches.

When you first found Michael, your knees nearly gave out on the spot. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of black jeans and a wolf’s pelt. The head of the pelt hangs over his forehead, acting as a sort of hat. He looks wild, uninhibited, and utterly happy; it makes your heart melt to see him so carefree. He couldn’t even stifle his grin when he had grabbed you to kiss you in greeting, too excited for the events to come to worry about keeping up the stern Antichrist demeanor.

“Welcome to the final night of the Lupercalia!” Ambrose (yes, you’ve finally learned his name) yells. “Hoods hunt wolves, witches hunt warlocks. The outcome of the Hunt shall determine the year ahead. Will it be bountiful or barren? Fruitful or fallow? Tonight, we hunt and are hunted, releasing our blessed magicks into the night. Warlocks, are you ready?”

The warlocks all howl and cheer in response, Michael included. The closer it gets to the start of the Hunt, the more excited you find yourself. Maybe the rituals of Lupercalia actually work, or maybe it’s just the fact that you haven’t slept with Michael in days and he looks particularly delicious in a wolf’s pelt.

Ambrose plays a long note on the same horn as last night, sending the warlocks running into the woods. You giggle as Michael darts off, pushing past the other men in an attempt to get as much of a head start as possible. Although it may not be a formal competition, Michael will always find a way to make some aspect of what he’s doing competitive.

“And witches, are you ready?” The women all around you yell, and you join them. When Ambrose plays another note, you dart off.

The woods are more disorienting than you remember them being last night. The fog makes it impossible for you to see more than thirty feet ahead of you, and the wolf heads all look the same from the back. Witches and warlocks sprint all around you, finding their partner and tackling them to the ground. You’re mildly impressed at how voracious some of these people are, going at it right on the ground and in the open. Your lungs burn as you continue to run further into the forest, hoping that soon the pack will thin out and you’ll be able to find Michael by the process of elimination.

You only stop when a stitch in your side forms, bending over and placing your hands on your knees while you try to catch a breath. There’s nobody around, everybody having already been reunited, and you can’t stop the disappointment that you feel. If you were a witch, surely this would have been much easier, you think to yourself. Standing up straight again, you start to walk back in the direction that you came from when a force grabs you by the shoulders and slams you back against a tree.

You shriek breathlessly, panic gripping you until the eyes staring at you register as Michael’s. His eyes glimmer with lust and excitement, and he bites his lip while smiling widely. You roll your eyes and lightly slap his chest, hand lingering on the firm pec.

“Did I scare you?” His voice comes out raspy, and you have to stop yourself from letting your eyes roll back in your head.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one who found you.”

“Hmm, I got bored waiting around.”

Leaning the weight of his body against yours, Michael traps you in place while he kisses you deeply. You throw your arms around his shoulders, the fur of the wolf pelt tickling your arms. His large, calloused hand grabs the cool skin of your upper thigh, hiking your leg up around his waist. You’re sure that the rough bark of the tree is leaving scratches even through the thick material of the cloak you’re wearing, but that’s honestly the last thing on your mind right now.

“You look so sexy tonight.” Michael gasps out, only removing his lips far enough to be able to breathe. “You look sexy all the time, but you know what I mean. The red lipstick is a really good look on you.”

“Yeah? You think so?” Your heart skips a beat; Michael compliments you all the time, but usually on the emotional traits you possess: how smart you are, how strong, how funny. He often compliments your physical appearance too, but with sweet words like ‘beautiful’ and ‘gorgeous’ and ‘stunning.’ If any other person were to refer to you as ‘sexy,’ you’d knock their teeth in. Michael’s use of the word, however, has your heart racing and blood pumping.

Michael nods eagerly, head falling to your collarbone as he sucks and bites the skin there.

“Absolutely. I always knew you’d look dangerous in a cloak, but this is beyond my wildest fantasies.”

“On that note, you should consider keeping the wolf’s pelt.” Michael raises an eyebrow at you before growling playfully, making you giggle loudly.

Those giggles quickly turn to a groan when Michael rips open your white slip, the soft fabric tearing easily under his grip. Your nipples immediately harden from the cool night air while you lift your hips away from the tree, allowing the now-ruined lingerie to pool around your ankles. The thin panties you’re wearing do nothing to hide your arousal, and Michael’s nostrils flare as his supernatural senses pick up on the heady scent.

The powers of this Lupercalian moon were hardly exaggerated. You can practically feel the magic of the light that you and Michael are being bathed in. It heightens everything you’re feeling, as well as acting as an aphrodisiac of sorts. In this moment, you’ve never wanted Michael more than you do now, and your legs are almost sticky with the arousal that’s starting to track down your thighs. He looks to be in the same state right now, eyes blown wide with lust and prominent bulge digging against your lower stomach.

Your hands go up to the silver clasps on your cloak, stopped when one of Michael’s large hands grips both of your wrists.

“Leave the rest on.” He says lowly, causing you to gasp as intense want curls in your stomach.

“Michael, I need you.”

Michael sinks to his knees in front of you, ghosting his lips down your body the entire way before hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugging them down your legs. He can’t stop himself from licking his lips at the sight of your pussy, swollen and glistening right in front of him. The moment his hot breath hits your core, your hands lock into his hair in an attempt to stay upright as your knees buckle.

He immediately dives in, sucking and licking at your cunt like it’s his last meal. The sensation immediately sends shockwaves through your body that not even the jolt of pain from throwing your head back and smacking it against the tree bark can diminish. Michael wraps his hands around your thighs, hoisting you further up with preternatural strength. The heels you’re wearing dig into Michael’s shoulders, but if it bothers him he isn’t showing it.

Michael’s nails digging into your skin is the only thing keeping you grounded as his tongue draws shapes against your clit, stopping every so often so Michael can suck harshly on it. You’re a whimpering mess above him, legs shaking from the exertion of being held up off of the ground. He pulls away from you momentarily, licking your arousal off of his face while he surveys you to see just how close you are.

“What do you want, baby? Wanna cum in my mouth first, or do you want me inside you?”

You think for a moment. Although the idea of a near-instant release and gratification is tempting, you can’t deny the throbbing from your pussy that makes you want to be completely and utterly filled to the brim with Michael. The man in question, who has been listening to your inner dialogue the entire time, smirks when your lust-drunk brain comes to a decision. He keeps his grip on your legs as he stands again, wrapping them around his waist for you. Your ankles cross over one another, locking him in your grip. Michael doesn’t even bother to get undressed all of the way, pulling down his trousers and underwear just enough to free his cock.

You swoon at the sight of it, thick and veiny, already flushed red and dripping precum at the tip. His cock is one of your favorite things, and if both of you weren’t so desperate you’d fall to your knees and return the favor. He enters you as quickly as he can without hurting you, groaning loudly as your walls flutter around him while you adjust to his familiar size. Your hands, needing to find purchase on something, snake their way under Michael’s pelt and dig into the skin on his back.

He kisses you deeply, tongues tangling together while he starts slowly thrusting in and out of you. Your body rocks up and down against the tree, working your hair into knots and wearing down parts of the cloak that you’re still wearing. You pull away from his lips only to fill your burning lungs with air, but by then Michael’s moved on to the smooth expanse of your neck, sucking bruises onto the clean canvas of your skin.

Michael is truly a sight to behold as his thrusts increase in speed, hitting deep right where you need him. His hair sticks damply to his forehead, the golden curls only looking more like a halo as they’re backlit by the moon. When his eyes focus on you again after being rolled in the back of his head, there’s only a thin blue ring surrounding the blown-out pupils. His lips are fuller than normal, swollen and red from the constant pressure being placed there by your own lips. His muscles ripple under the skin, trying to keep up with the brutal pace that he’s set. The sheer beauty of Michael Langdon would have Greek gods and goddesses weeping in both envy and want; Donatello and Michelangelo could only dream of sculpting something as perfect as him.

You cry out, hips snapping up in an attempt to match Michael’s thrusts. Your legs, which are already wrapped tightly around his torso, attempt to pull him in even closer. If that was even possible, you’re not sure there’s enough of you for him to fill. You can hear yourself speaking broken sentences, but you’re not sure if the words don’t make sense because your brain is too clouded or if you’re just so far gone that you can’t form actual words.

“Michael, I–please-” Your uneven breathing cuts you off, but Michael nods in understanding. He’s close too, thrusts becoming shaky and more erratic as he nears the edge of his own peak.

Your cunt clenches around him, making him groan lowly as he attempts to thrust deeper. The attempt works, and you can feel the fat head of his cock brushing against the the innermost, spongy part of your walls that has you releasing a sound that’s a cross between a moan and a scream. Michael doesn’t stop there, reaching a hand in between your connected bodies so he can rub harsh circles on your clit. There’s enough lubrication there, whether it be sweat or arousal, that your clit is already slick enough for him to easily manipulate.

It’s only a matter of time before you’re cumming with a shout, limbs seizing as the electricity of your orgasm runs through you. Your head swims, eyesight blurred from the intense pleasure as you try to watch Michael. You can feel him throbbing inside of you, eyebrows furrowed together and mouth shaped like an ‘O’ while he teeters on the verge of his own orgasm. You regain control of your body just enough to moan his name, purposefully clenching around him and allowing him to fall over the edge of ecstasy.

The sensation of his warm release coating your walls sends aftershocks through you, tightening your arms around Michael while he continues to ride out his orgasm with his head buried against your chest. When you’re both completely spent he pulls out of you, wrapping his arms under your ass while he lowers you both to the ground. The beautiful red cloak spreads out underneath you enough for both of you to lay on, neither of you caring about getting dirty.

“Y’know,” Michael says breathlessly, still spent from your previous activities, “I do believe that this is the best holiday I’ve ever participated in.”

“Ambrose was right when he said this was a blessed Lupercalian moon.” Michael hums from beside you, neither of you bothering to put any effort into actually moving your heads to look at each other.

“A blessed Lupercalia, indeed.”

Tag List: @sammythankyou @queencocoakimmie @let-me-try-mom@pastel-cloudz @sebastianshoe@nana15774@lichellaw@ultragibbycentralworld @grim-adventures58@dandycandy75@trimbooohgodplsnoooo@alexcornerblog@everything-is-awesomesauce @ccodyfern@jimmlangdon@langdonsdemon@langdonslove @kahhlo@omgsuperstarg 

[auntiebioticslab]

I didn’t get any asks for this but that’s okay because unfortunately I am WELL capable of infodumping without anyone’s permission. so here’s the unplanned variable ask meme by @outervvorlds

read mores do not work on mobile because tumblr is garbage from a toilet and my computer is currently on a UPS truck to California. I am so sorry.

Basics! Name, age, personality, etc. What do they look like? Are they a new or old oc? 

Her name is Rocket Alexandria Hawthorne! Formerly Rachel Holloway back on Earth but I’ll get to the reason for the name change.

She’s extremely vague about her age (her go-tos are “older than you” and “over a hundred” which are both technically true due to the “being on ice” thing) but she can pass for anywhere between 30 and 50 appearance-wise and the timeline of her Earth memories pretty reliably pegs her as late 30s-early 40s.

She’s a really effortlessly confident and funny person, which is the main reason she could probably talk her way out of her own execution. Also because I have a disease that makes me project my brain shit onto every oc I have she’s prone to hyperfixating due to an Unclear But Definitely Present Brain Thing so she knows a lot of things about a lot of things. Also she’d never openly admit it but she’s a sucker for romantic things and definitely cries at weddings.

This is her:

Her mom was Pakistani and her father was Black but she usually just says she’s from Baltimore.

What are their attributes, perks, and flaws?

She’s got high charm and intelligence, average strength and temperament, and good everything else.

I got her up to level 30 my last play through, do not make me list all her perks. Most of them this go-round so far are buffs to vendor prices and boosts to movement speed.

She has weakness to both plasma and physical damage!

What do they believe in?

Religiously, she’s agnostic but she kind of likes the notion of Philosophism. Morally, she believes that there’s no reason for people to pointlessly suffer just so someone at the top can hoard money, and also that the colony would be better off if Byzantium suddenly burned to the ground.

...she did not burn Byzantium to the ground, don’t worry.

How did they react to becoming Captain of the Unreliable? Are they much of a leader?

She always kind of wanted to be a cool spacefarer, but she hoped it would be under different circumstances. She told ADA that the real Hawthorne was killed by marauders, offered the poor bastard some dignity in death.

She is a pretty effective leader but that’s because she doesn’t really see herself as one? The crew aren’t subordinate to her, they’re her friends.

What was their life like before being iced?

It was boring! She was stuck in a shitty line cook job which wasn’t terrible but also felt like a waste of her education, and she was barely scraping by anyway. That’s why she applied for the Hope initiative.

Did they have any family before becoming Captain? Do they think their crew as family? 

Obviously she had parents growing up; they werent as present as they’d have liked to be because Work but she never once felt like they didn’t care for her. They didn’t live to see their daughter off when she boarded the Hope, but that was because of natural causes.

She also had four older brothers! Darren, Brice, Gene, and Andre. She was closest to Andre because the age difference between them was only a year. He’s actually the one who gave her the nickname “Rocket” in the first place; when they were kids they would pretend to be space explorers and their pretend names were Astro and Rocket.

None of her brothers were on the Hope. Darren actually was doing pretty well for himself in a low-level government job and didn’t feel the need to leave the planet, Brice didn’t want to uproot his wife and kids, Gene, well...she still has no idea what Gene was up to when she boarded the Hope because he took a job in another country and lost contact with his siblings years prior. Andre had been dead for years, unfortunately, having died in a work accident a week before Rocket was due to graduate college.

It still nags at her that while she can at least assume all her other brothers died peacefully and surrounded by loved ones, she knows EXACTLY what horrible thing happened to Andre.

As for the current crew, ohhh yeah, they are definitely her family. She cried when Felix said “I’ve got a family” to Clyde.

What’s their fighting style? Who do they bring along?

Ironically for a timeline where Roosevelt was never president, she does practice big stick diplomacy. Well, it’s usually small stick diplomacy because she prefers one handed melee, but still. If she can avoid direct conflict (through stealth or negotiation) she prefers to. The only exception was Tartarus.

There’s no real rhyme or reason to who she has in her party because from a Me As The Player standpoint I just go with whoever gives me boosts to the stats I need for the quest I’m doing. Which, in practice, usually ends up being Parvati and Felix because of that sweet sweet Persuasion buff.

Is Spacer’s Choice their only choice? What do they think of the corporations?

She is...not a fan of the amount of power they have. Spacer’s Choice in particular has a special place in hell as far as she’s concerned. If you held a gun to her head and asked her to pick a favorite...she’d probably ask you to just shoot her. Or she’d choose Auntie Cleo’s because their jingle is the least annoying.

What do they think of the factions? Are they liked or disliked by any?

Rocket has to make an actual effort to get on someone’s bad side so she’s in pretty good standing with most of the major factions. She made an effort with the Board, though 😁

For her part, she’s especially fond of the folks on the Groundbreaker.

What’s their favourite place in Halcyon? Least favourite?

She likes the scenery on Terra 2 and the people on the Groundbreaker, but as corny as it sounds her favorite place in Halcyon is the Unreliable. It’s home to her, and it’ll stay that way forever.

She doesn’t hate Edgewater per se but being there fills her with rage because of how...indicative it is of the way the rest of the colony is being run.

Do they have a favourite alien creature?

She definitely has never done extensive research on the care and feeding of leather boas because she hyperfixated on the idea of getting one as a pet before realizing that recreating the necessary habitat conditions on the Unreliable was impossible, or at least way too expensive.

No, I’m not projecting the amount of times I have done something similar for bearded dragons.

Did they save The Hope?

FUCK yeah she did.

What do they want to do afterwards? - but do they get a happy ending?

She finally gets some use out of her degree; she’s qualified to be a food scientist, like a real actual food scientist, and that’s probably what Halcyon needs more than anything.

Considering a few other things that happen in the epilogue, she doesn’t get a perfect end. But it’s enough.

What do they think of the companions? Friendships, crushes, dislikes, etc. 

She immediately thought “now I’M the big sister” after recruiting Parvati and Felix, so there’s that. Probably accidentally called each of them by the name of one of her brothers a few times. Convincing Ellie that she actually cares about her as a person is her white whale of sorts, and she empathizes a lot with Nyoka given her own history of loss. Logically she realizes that Max is a fellow capital-A Adult but also she feels like she’s holding the leash on a feral dog whenever he’s with her. She likes to tell SAM he’s doing a good job.

How do the companion quests go?

Golden ends across the board, babey. I’ve never been one to half-ass shenanigans.

What’s their love language?

Gifts and acts of service!!! She always tries to play it cool until she’s ready to admit her feelings though, so there’s a lot of pretending she just HAPPENED to find this thing she damn near tore the planet apart looking for.

Also she especially likes to flirt by cooking. Even back on Earth she got into a fair few relationships by being like “hey neighbor, I underestimated how much this recipe makes, interested in taking some leftovers off my hands? ;)” when she knew damn well how much the recipe made and doubled it so she had an excuse to see her cute neighbor.

Are they in a relationship? Do they want to be?

She has a crush on a certain rogue scientist, and unfortunately for her it is such an intense crush that she actually gets tongue-tied around him sometimes, which isn’t something she’s used to and that stresses her out a LOT.

Damn now I want to write an immediately-post-game-but-WAY-pre-epilogue fic with the crew trying to get them together so they don’t have to listen to Rocket blasting classical music and frustratedly screaming into a pillow every time she leaves his lab.

How to win them over?

She likes to look into someone’s eyes and see a fire, you know? I mean this in both a platonic and romantic sense—if someone is downtrodden but still determined, she probably at least respects them.

Also if someone she has feelings for does some kind of tender touch thing like brushing her hair behind her ear she McDies. Just completely short circuits. Cannot handle it.

How to break their heart?

If she found out someone important to her was using her or going behind her back it would destroy her. Unwilling betrayals as a result of being under duress are one thing, but deliberate, calculated manipulation? That’s her absolute worst nightmare.

How did those cows get onto their ship??

She wanted to try making homemade cheese and didn’t trust the bottled milk to actually be from a cow after what she learned about the saltuna cannery in Edgewater.

Ok technically she just agreed to deliver the cows to a facility on Terra 2 after the actual ship carrying them had engine troubles on Groundbreaker but she liberated some of the milk while in transit. Not like they’d notice.

A song that reminds you of them,

Sucker Punch by Die Mannequin!

Three random facts about them.

She got that burn scar during her time on Earth. Be careful with hot liquids, kids.

She’s tall—like, 6’5” tall. People who don’t receive proper nourishment don’t get very tall so she towers over most of Halcyon.

After the events of Don’t Bite The Sun she went back to Stellar Bay and told Raymond “I’ll teach you my recipe for breded cystipig chops with mock applesauce if you’ll teach me how to make that casserole”. Good trade for both parties.

[kanasmusings]

[Translation] Growth Drama CD Vol. 4 - Track 2

I will introduce this drama track with two words. That is, “Mamoru” and “guppy”.  Also, we get introduced to a new character, Mimira-kun who, albeit being faceless, is still part of the TsukiPro world~

Thank you again to Deea for sharing before I got my own CD~!! Please don’t ask her for them as per her request, thank you ^^

※ Please don’t re-post the English translations without permission. Please just like/reblog them instead ^^

Under the cut, enjoy!

Track 02: [ご機嫌な涼太くん] “Ryota-kun in a good mood”

[0:00]

  (pages flipping as Koki reads)

  RYOTA: Hm? (giggles)

KOKI: Hm…? (giggles)

KOKI: Ryo, is something wrong?

RYOTA: Eh?

KOKI: It’s just, you’ve been looking over here all this time that I was wondering if you needed something.

RYOTA: Ah… I… I was looking at Kou…?

KEN: AH!!! You weren’t aware?! You were staring! Totally staring!

MAMORU: I-it’s somehow… Like you two were transported to a world of your own…

MAMORU: Please remember that we’re here, too! We’re here too, Ryo-kun!

RYOTA: Huh? Obviously. We’re here as Growth, aren’t we?

KEN: Y-you say that but it’s like we were just air, y’know? Right, Mamoru!?

MAMORU: Yes, Ken-kun! Ryo-kun and Kou-kun were just staring at each other, giggling, and it was like we were intruding in their atmosphere!

RYOTA: You’re pretty noisy for someone who understands the situation.

RYOTA: I noticed that, too, you know.

KEN: Ah… Someone who was just smiling and giggling looking at Kou’s face is this cold when it’s towards us.

MAMORU: It happens a lot, I know, but Ryo-kun’s difference in treatment is killing the guppy in my heart slowly!

KEN: Don’t die, Mamoru’s guppy!!

KEN: Ah, by the way, a “guppy” is the name of a tropical fish. It seems like there’s a chance that they’ll die if you change the temperature just a bit and change behaviour by the intensity of its environment.

MAMORU: Ken-kun, thank you for the explanation!

KOKI: (chuckles)

KOKI: Um… Ryo, is there anything strange that’s going on?

RYOTA: Eh?

RYOTA: No, not at all. (smiles)

RYOTA: That white top suits you well~

RYOTA: The black jacket on top of that looks good, too, huh?

RYOTA: It emphasizes your waist well and I think that it looks pretty and elegant.

KOKI: Thank you. Then, maybe it’s my hairstyle…?

RYOTA: I really like that part of your bangs that stray a little bit when tucked behind your ear.

RYOTA: In one word, I’d say it’s “noble”. It suits you well~

KOKI: R-really…?

RYOTA: Yup. (smiles)

KOKI: U-um… Thank you.

RYOTA: Yeah~

MAMORU: THIS DIFFERENCE IN TEMPERATURE!! AHHH!! MY HEART’S GUPPY! MY GUPPY!!!

KEN: Don’t die, Mamoru’s guppy! SOMEBODY!! SOMEBODY, PLEASE SAVE HIM!!

RYOTA: Ah, I see.

KOKI: Hm?

RYOTA: I figured out why I was unconsciously staring at Kou.

MAMORU: And what exactly is that?!

RYOTA: It’s because Kou is shining today.

KEN/MAMORU: Huh?

RYOTA: You all know this, don’t you? That I like beautiful things.

RYOTA: Music, pictures, scenery, people, or whatever.

RYOTA: It’s fun looking at beautiful things, isn’t it?

RYOTA: It makes the heart at ease, doesn’t it? It’s even better if there’s a sense of cleanliness, too.

RYOTA: In that way, Kou is my ideal. Just that.

KEN/MAMORU: Ah…

RYOTA: Yes… Yes, that’s it.

RYOTA: Kou really hits every single one of my targets, huh.

RYOTA: I wonder why? Maybe it’s better if I didn’t have something he can target?

RYOTA: What’s this feeling of being targeted even though there’s nothing to target…?

RYOTA: Really… It’s getting scary. But his existence is healing.

RYOTA: (sighs) I’m so glad that Kou is Growth’s leader.

MAMORU: Ryo-kun is unusually in an interesting mode, huh…

KEN: In any case, you made it clear that Kou hit all of your “targets” today.

KOKI: Is it okay to think of it as a compliment…?

RYOTA: Of course! I’m aware of how much I love or dislike someone after all.

RYOTA: I think that it’s a great thing that I can notice that, too.

MAMORU: Well, that’s true.

KEN: You’re right.

KOKI: (chuckles) Well, Ryo’s shining to me, as well.

RYOTA: I’m… shining…?

KOKI: Yeah.

RYOTA: Well, that’s because it’s part of our job to present ourselves to people. I’m careful about my appearance.

RYOTA: Of course, I’d be in my best manners, too.

KOKI: True. In a way, it could mean like that. The reason why I look pretty to you might be because of the same reason.

KOKI: (smiles) But—

RYOTA: But…!?

KOKI: For me, you sparkling isn’t just limited to your outward appearance.

RYOTA: Eh…?

KOKI: Ryo is—

(someone knocks on the door)

STAFF: Pardon the intrusion! We’re so sorry for the wait, Growth.

STAFF: The studio is already prepared so please get ready to move.

KEN: Ah, yes~!

KOKI: Ryo, let’s continue this talk later.

RYOTA: A-ah—Y-yeah.

MAMORU: Alright~! Let’s do our best for work today then!

KEN: Yeah~!

RYOTA: Wait!

RYOTA: You two were just sitting around, weren’t you?

RYOTA: Your clothes are all wrinkled.

KEN: AH! Really?!

RYOTA: Really. Look right here and over here, too.

KEN: It’s true…

KEN: Oh, man. I hope it doesn’t stand out.

RYOTA: Why don’t you ask the costume department if they can lightly steam it for a bit?

KEN: You’re right. Thank you, Ryo. I’ll do just that.

RYOTA: Mamoru, too. Your necktie’s crooked. I’ll fix it for you. Come on.

RYOTA: Stand properly.

MAMORU: Ah, yes!

(Ryota starts fixing Mamoru’s tie)

RYOTA: Hm?

MAMORU: Ryo-kun… Right now, you were thinking that it’s similar to fixing the collar on a dog, weren’t you…?

RYOTA: Wow! I’m amazed you figured it out~!

MAMORU: I wish you denied that part though~

RYOTA: (chuckles) I’m just kidding.

RYOTA: I know that both you and Ken do your best so, if you only keep in mind what people think about you, it’d be a waste, you know?

RYOTA: There are people who look up to Growth’s Ken and Mamoru, too, you know?

RYOTA: You’ll do it properly, won’t you?

MAMORU: Yessir!

KOKI: (chuckles) We’re all ready, aren’t we? Now then, shall we go?

[06:35]

 STAFF: Now then, we’ll introduce today’s guests!

STAFF: First up are these people! With their unique world view and individualistic songs, harmony is their power.

STAFF: Please welcome everyone from Growth!

KOKI: Good afternoon!

Growth: Good afternoon.

STAFF: Hello! Welcome to Count-up TV!

STAFF: I think we’ll all be able to hear about their processes of music today.

KOKI: Yes. It’s a pleasure to be here.

STAFF: It’s a pleasure to have you here.

STAFF: The next guest is this person!

STAFF: He’s pretty famous with middle and high schoolers!

STAFF: He’s the frightfully amazing 16 year old who writes and makes his own songs, Mimira-san!

MIMIRA: Good evening~! I’m Mimira!

MIMIRA: I normally do net broadcasts so this is my first appearance on TV~!

MIMIRA: I’m very nervous but, I’ll do my best~! It’s nice to meet you~

STAFF: Yes, welcome! Alright then, let’s have a quick commercial before we proceed with the talk.

  (catchy music plays)

  MAMORU: (sighs) It’s finally… over… somehow…

RYOTA: (exhausted) Really…

RYOTA: I’m so glad that it’s somehow over…

KEN: I understand why Mamoru, the composer, is tired because it’s a music show where we talked about the song processes but, why is Ryo so tired, too?

RYOTA: I think it’s because of the nervousness about whether Mamoru would say some weird things…

MAMORU: Ah… (laughs with a very tired manner) I’m so sorry for making you worry.

MAMORU: It’s true that a TV broadcast has a different sort of nervousness from lives and events, huh…?

MAMORU: I somehow managed not to slip up because I kept looking at Ryo-kun next to me who was glaring at me.

MAMORU: That’s… what I want to think!

KOKI: (chuckles) No, I think you managed to talk about it properly rather than just “managing it somehow”.

MAMORU: Eh?! Really?

KEN: Yup, yup. I think so, too. I think the song’s themes and their highlights were pretty easy to understand.

KEN: I think we managed to show fine team play during this recording. I think we also managed to make people laugh at the appropriate times, too.

KEN: Good going, Mamoru~

MAMORU: I-I’m so glad…!

KOKI: (smiles) Great job, Mamoru.

KOKI: You did well. Didn’t he, Ryo?

RYOTA: You’re right. Well, I’d say it’s a passing mark.

MAMORU: Oh…! To think that the day Ryo-kun would say that would come…!

MAMORU: I’m so glad that I did image training of this moment with the Arainu-kun three days ago!

RYOTA: …!

KEN: I’m somehow torn between wanting to see you practice talking with a stuffed toy or if I’m glad that I didn’t see it.

RYOTA: It’s obviously gross so you should be glad you didn’t see it.

RYOTA: Ah, but, I guess it’s too late to say that since he talks often with the pachira.

KEN: That’s true.

MAMORU: Onii-san won’t hide his distress since I’m aware you see me do that often…

MIMIRA: Ah, Growth-san! Thank you very much for today!

MIMIRA: I’m Mimira, who was your co-guest today!

KOKI: Ah, likewise. Thank you very much to you, too.

MAMORU: Thank you very much!

RYOTA: Thanks.

KEN: Thanks for the hard work~!

MIMIRA: Thank you for your hard work, too!

MIMIRA: Uwah~ You’re all so beautiful up close! Your face is so small!

MIMIRA: Real celebrities are totally different, huh~!

MAMORU: Eh? Eh!? Eh…?! WHAT!!??

MIMIRA: Was it Koki-san and Ryota-san?

MAMORU: AHHH! Figured it was those two…! That’s obvious, huh…

KEN: (laughs)

MIMIRA: If it’s okay with you, can I take a picture with you to commemorate this day?

MIMIRA: Can we do a two-shot?

KOKI: Yeah.

RYOTA: I don’t mind.

MIMIRA: Yay~! Then, please excuse me~ There.

(Mimira approaches Ryo and Koki)

MIMIRA: Okay~ Please come closer.

MIMIRA: Say cheese~

(Mimira takes the picture)

MIMIRA: Woah~! It looks good! What do you think?

MIMIRA: Would it be alright if I uploaded it online later?

MIMIRA: I could edit or enhance it before I do though but…

KOKI: Ah, it’s no problem at all.

RYOTA: It’s fine with me, too.

MIMIRA: Yay~! Thank you very much!

MIMIRA: Alright~ I’ll add this to my memories of today just like with my first broadcast~

KEN: Ah, um… Mimira-kun?

KEN: That broadcast channel’s called “Mimira Channel,” isn’t it?

KEN: I’ve watched it before.

MIMIRA: Ohhh!! Really?! Thank you very much!

MIMIRA: I’m happy that you saw one of my videos…!

MIMIRA: Ah, can I ask you for your impressions? How was it?

KEN: It was interesting!

KEN: The episode I saw was the episode where you went to the bath house for the first time since you were born.

KEN: I’ve never been to one before, too, so while I was going “Oh~” when watching, I totally laughed a lot while holding my milk bottle.

MIMIRA: (laughs) That’s the one I uploaded the day after I went to the bath house, right?

MIMIRA: Compared to the organization of a TV broadcast, I usually do the filming and even editing on my own.

MIMIRA: I don’t even have a great script to follow and I mess up talking sometimes, too.

MIMIRA: Well, that kind of thing is one charm point, too~! Ehehe~

KOKI: That’s amazing. You think of the material and do the editing on your own?

MIMIRA: E-he~ Is what I’d like to brag but, the computer software really does help a lot.

MIMIRA: It’s not as difficult once you get used to it, sir.

MIMIRA: Doing things we love as long as we can is good, isn’t it~?

KEN: You’re light on your feet because you do it alone, too, huh.

MIMIRA: Yes, yes! It’s great that I can just do something interesting the moment that I think of it~

KOKI: I think that kind of behaviour is admirable, too.

RYOTA: After all, if you don’t know how to use an editing software, it really is meaningless, too.

MAMORU: Right, right~? I mean, even I can make a lot with just a music software, too.

MAMORU: Mimira-kun does the filming, recording, and editing, too. On top of that, you make music and you sing, too, don’t you?

MAMORU: You’re so talented, huh~

MIMIRA: (flustered) A-ah, no…! I- I just feel shy if you flatter me like that…!

MIMIRA: But… Thank you very much!

STAFF: Ah, Mimira-san! Your escort’s here already.

MIMIRA: Ah, yes! It’s that time already, huh…

MIMIRA: I’ll be on my way then. Thank you very much for today!

KOKI: Yeah, let’s meet again somewhere.

RYOTA: Someday for sure.

MIMIRA: Yes, surely! Thank you very much for the picture, too!

(Mimira leaves)

[13:23]

  KOKI: (chuckles)

RYOTA: That was quite a storm, huh~ Though, there was nothing bad in it.

KEN: Oh, the picky Ryo is saying something unusual~

RYOTA: Shut up.

MAMORU: That just shows how great Mimira-kun is at communicating and talking.

KOKI: Music, videos, and now even talking, huh.

KOKI: He’s really talented.

MAMORU: He called Kou-kun and Ryo-kun “pretty~!” but, Mimira-kun’s pretty good looking himself, too~

MAMORU: Man~ Popular people sure have it all~

KEN: I felt he can handle it though~ To borrow Ryo’s words, he was “shining,” too.

MAMORU: I thought so, too! Maybe it’s the youth~

MAMORU: I feel like I was showered in sparkling beams just by talking to him.

MAMORU: His smile is sparkly, his aura is sparkly~! Ah~! So dazzling! Or something?

KEN: Exactly.

RYOTA: Kou’s not losing when It comes to being sparkling though.

KOKI: Me?

KEN: Why are you always so quick to turn it into a compliment competition?

RYOTA: That’s because you two kept complimenting him with “amazing~ amazing~” without restraint.

RYOTA: Kou’s beautiful, he can sing and dance, he’s smart, he’s good at cooking too so, he won’t lose.

KOKI: Ryo, I’m happy that you’re praising me but, I don’t think there’s any point in deciding “winners and losers.”

KEN: Exactly. In the first place, we weren’t comparing Kou and Mimira-kun anyway.

RYOTA: I know that but…

MAMORU: (chuckles) I guess we all just acknowledge that that’s how much you love Kou-kun.

KEN: Yeah, we do. It’s true that Ryo has been keeping an eye on Kou from the beginning.

MAMORU: Oh, really?

KOKI: But, I won’t really call it a friendly mood.

MAMORU: Eh?!

KEN: Oh~? Kou-sama felt that, too?

KOKI: (chuckles) How naïve do you really think I am?

KOKI: Of course I’d notice when I’m being loathed that much.

KEN: Oh, that’s right. I’d say it was more of a rivalry than a friendly feeling.

MAMORU: WHAT?!

RYOTA: W-wait, you two… Are you really bring that up here and now?

KEN: Isn’t it a topic that should be brought out now so that we can have a laugh at it together later~?

RYOTA: That’s true and all but…

MAMORU: Eh? Eh, what? I’m curious! I wanna know~!

MAMORU: Speaking of, I don’t think I’ve ever heard how Kou-kun and Ryo-kun met before.

MAMORU: Though, I’ve heard before that the difficult to approach “Aloof Prince” Kou-kun was approached by Ryo-kun and Ken-kun.

RYOTA: You remember that well, huh, Mamoru.

RYOTA: It’s exactly like that. Ken and I were the first to approach him.

RYOTA: I was curious about what kind of guy it was that they were giving special treatment to.

RYOTA: If I were to confess, I did it mostly with ill intent.

MAMORU: Ill intent…?

KOKI: I was an enemy to you then, huh?

RYOTA: I think you already know without my saying it but, it’s different now, okay?

RYOTA: But, in a place where the tickets to actually debuting were so little, seeing someone the agency treats so specially without hiding it really gives you a bad feeling, doesn’t it?

KEN: I still remember it even now.

KEN: How you glared—No, looked at Kou. I told you that you should try talking to him if you were that interested.

KOKI: Is that so?

RYOTA: You stood out after all. Even if I tried not to worry about it, you just plainly enter my sight.

RYOTA: That’s one reason why you were so special, too, though.

RYOTA: Well… I guess kids wouldn’t understand.

RYOTA: In any case, Ken told me that and I finally decided to talk to Kou.

  ==END==

※ Please don’t re-post the English translations without permission. Please just like/reblog them instead ^^

[you-andthebottlemen]

54 - An Original: taking Van to a student festival/rave

So, I saw Catfish A WEEK AGO (where does time go??) and ohhh my god. It was amazing. I made some wonderful friends in line since I went alone and Van even spoke to me from stage between songs. DEAD. They were all so fucking happy and beautiful and cute. And the new songs go offfff live, I loved it. Van did that thing in Business where he’d scream and yell then start singing parts of Sidetrack as if he’s in a trance. And I’m like babe did you forget the song is actually part of the setlist now? But it was so cute, he was just so happy and into it. Also heard him do the Ouch kabibble thing and I couldn’t believe. I want to go back to that moment and live in it forever, best concert!! 

Have any of you guys seen them recently? I’d love to hear about your experiences!!!

Anyway - weirdly enough I had a dream the other night....with Van in it. And I remember it as if it were real. So, I HAD to write a fic about it. It’s short but sweet. And apologies for the break in requests, but this was an emergency. I promise I am working on all the requests you guys have sent in, thank you soo much! Enjoy!!!

(P.s obviously I have embellished the dream to make it into a fic lol and yes I know it’s not all that realistic and logical).

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

You checked your phone for the time, almost obsessively. Van was due to arrive any moment and you were becoming antsy waiting alone outside the venue, watching crowds of people file inside. Every time a taxi pulled up your heart fluttered hoping it was Van. Soon, it was 10 minutes past the time you were meant to meet, then 15. You leant against the cold wall, awkwardly staring around you trying to spot your fluffy haired boy in the sea of faces. You’d not seen him for months and you were sweating with anticipation.

“Babe!”

Finally.

Van ducked between people and made his way to you. When you saw him, your heart swelled to double its normal size. Having him home was the best thing in the whole world. Van scooped you up in his arms and held you tight, holding a hand to the back of your head. With your eyes shut, you breathed him in.

When you drew away after your long embrace, you looked at his face. It was exactly the same as the last time you’d seen it, but you didn’t care, you took him all in. His freckles, his pale skin, his messy eyebrows and those beautiful, beautiful blue eyes.

“You’re late,” you said finally, a small smile in your voice.

“Sorry,” Van said quietly as he tugged the hem of your shirt so your bodies were pulled closer.

He may have said sorry, but his eyes didn’t look sorry at all. Van leant in and kissed you hard. You tangled your fingers in the soft hair that curled at the back of his neck and his hands found their way to the waistband of your skirt. With a heavy breath, you pulled away.

Van made a whining noise.

“I know. Later,” you chuckled.

You led Van by the hand into the venue. It was massive, like an outdoor arena. It was the end of the university year and to celebrate there was a massive festival, or rave, you weren’t sure. But you were absolutely buzzing about it. You followed the crowd to the box office to pick up your tickets. The line was long, but you just stood with your head rested on Van’s shoulder and his hand clasped firmly in yours. Van briefly caught you up on the tour while you waited, recounting the places he visited and stories of their antics. In hindsight you should have just paid the extra money to get the tickets sent to you in the post.

When it was your turn, you showed the woman in the box your confirmation email and license.

“Student ID please,” she said bluntly.

You showed your ID card and she nodded, handing you the tickets.

“You too,” she said, looking at Van. You felt him tense beside you.

“He just graduated. Doesn’t have a valid ID anymore,” you responded quickly.

You heart began to race in panic. Van didn’t have a student ID because he wasn’t a university student and never had been. So technically he wasn’t allowed into the event. You definitely should have had the tickets posted.

The woman looked at you sceptically then held one finger up before leaning back to talk to a colleague. You squeezed Van’s hand nervously.

“Nope. No ID, no entry,” she said finally, her face straight. She wasn’t going to budge.

You moved away from the box office and found a quiet spot off to the side.

“Fuuuck,” you sighed, slumping your shoulders. Van looked at you with his lips pursed.

You felt torn; you didn’t want to go to the event without Van, you’d been looking forward to it for weeks. But you also didn’t want to miss out on it and your friends who were already inside waiting for you. You leant against the wall in defeat, a pout on your face. Van reached an arm out and pulled you into him. He kissed you on the forehead, holding his lips to your skin for a little while.

“It’s okay, just go in. Have fun,” he reassured you.

God, you loved him.

“No. Fuck this, come on,” you replied crossly.

Van smiled at your rage, his eyes brimming with love.

You dragged him along behind you and stood in line at the ticket barriers. You had the tickets. The box office woman mustn’t have realised she’d handed over both. So, you had the tickets, just not the permission for Van to use his. That, or it wasn’t valid to get him inside. Either way, you were going to get him in. Van didn’t get to go to university or do student things, so he’d been really looking forward to it despite the fact that it wasn’t really his scene. You weren’t going to leave him behind or let him miss out.

Huge crowds of people were flowing through the barriers, so surely Van could slip through. You’d paid after all.

When it was your turn, you scanned the ticket on the electronic barrier and buzzed through without an issue. You waited and watched nervously as Van did his. He kept tapping the ticket on the scanner, his face scrunching up in confusion. People yelled and made noises at him from behind, annoyed he was holding them up. The idiot couldn’t work out how to scan it properly.

“Hold it down and let the light scan it! Don’t tap!” you yelled at him. He just looked up at you with eyebrows raised. You smiled and shook your head. He may have been an idiot, but he was a cute idiot and he was yours.

Finally, Van got the ticket to scan. It buzzed him through and security didn’t bat an eyelash. Triumph. Van all but jumped over the barrier in excitement, howling in a high-pitched tone as he bounced over to you and lifted you off your feet. You laughed as he spun you round, gripping his shoulders tightly. When he placed you down, you felt people staring at your PDA, but you didn’t care. You were giddy in love and they were probably just jealous.

“Definitely on something that one,” you heard a lady say to the man beside her as you walked by, her eyes on Van. She seemed to be venue staff.

Ordinarily you’d be pissed off at comments made about Van, but you were so overwhelmed with love that it only worked to make you smile.

“Not on anything, just beyond ecstatic!” you called out to her, a grin on your face.

You wrapped your arm around Van’s waist and planted a kiss on his cheek as your bodies collided together with the force.

Following the crowd through to the main stage, you kept your arm around Van’s body, and he had his around your shoulders. You bunched his fuzzy black jumper up in your hand. It was a relief to have him back in your grip and his body close to yours once again.

“You know this probably wasn’t smart,” you said to Van, pinching the front of his jumper with your spare hand.

“Y/n. I came straight from the airport for this, don’t you be fussin’ about my outfit,” he replied, his voice full of amusement and faux annoyance. You smiled and rolled your eyes.

“Well I’m not holding it when you get hot.”

First stop was the bar. You each grabbed two beers so you wouldn’t have to come back too soon and line up yet again. Once drinks were acquired, the two of you plunged into the crowd at main stage in search of your friends. An act was already playing, electronic music with a deep bass pulsed all around you. You felt excited, like your whole body was buzzing and radiating happiness. Sweaty bodies danced around you and you weaved your way through them to your friends.

By the time you managed to find everyone, Van had finished both beers and you were almost through your first.

“Y/n!!” Alix screamed when she saw you.

She pounced on you, causing a beer to spill down your arm. It didn’t matter though. Alix was dressed in all white like most of the people there, and already had UV paint spattered across her chest and dotted around her face, ready for the lights to come on when the sun went down. Alix bundled Van into a hug like she had done with you and then pulled you over to where the others were stood.

You hugged everyone hello and introduced Van to those he hadn’t already met, though it was a bit difficult in the loud environment and confined space of the crowd. Van couldn’t wipe the grin from his face. He was tipsy and touchy feely with you, taking any opportunity to touch you and pull you close. He would put a hand on your waist under your t-shirt, so he could feel your skin, or move hair out of your eyes any chance he got. It was small things like that which you both missed so much when he was away. Van was his usual outgoing self though amplified by the alcohol on what you presumed was an empty stomach. This only made you buzz more.

As you all began to party and dance, you finished your drinks and reached out to kiss Van. You smiled into his lips and he held your face with both hands while you slowly made out.

“I love you two,” Mike said dreamily as he snapped a photo on his disposable camera.

You turned and smiled at him, your arms still hung around Van’s neck.

“You better get me a print of that!”

“You bet,” he grinned and danced away to take more photos elsewhere.

You stood with your back to Van and he wrapped himself around you. You swayed to the music and took it all in. People bounced and screamed, others held their friends up on their shoulders, some were busy taking photos, some drinking and dancing. You imagined what it would be like to watch it all unfold from the stage. You understood why Van loved playing to huge crowds so much. It was beautiful.

The sun began to sink and the sky turned a deep shade of blue. The flood lights and colourful lasers lit up the crowd and the music became louder. You let go of Van and danced with Alix for a while, spinning each other around and popping your hips to the beat. She had managed to sneak in a flask of vodka which she happily shared around, much to your delight. As you all grew increasingly more drunk, the music just seemed to get better and better. It was becoming like one huge rave.

When you found your way back to Van, he was sat up on Mike’s shoulders. He’d taken off his jumper and was swinging it above his head like a lasso. He was cheering and yelling loudly with a huge grin smacked across his face. You laughed and fell even more in love.

“Hey! You need some paint!” A small girl covered head to toe in glowing UV colours said, popping up out of nowhere. She offered you a tube of paint and you squeezed some onto your hand.

“Thanks! You look amazing.”

She beamed at you. Van clambered down from Mike’s shoulders and took the tube off her, squeezing it into his hand and rubbing them together so they were evenly covered in paint.

“Babe!” he shouted, and you whipped around to face him.

Before you could react, Van reached out and quickly grabbed your boobs, leaving two fluorescent pink hand prints behind. The girl who had given you the paint looked slightly horrified. Van recoiled sheepishly despite his mischievous grin; equally amused with himself and afraid of your reaction. He wiped the remainder of the paint across his bare stomach.

After a moment, you burst out laughing and then dove towards him, grabbing his face and smearing it with paint. Both of you erupted into giggles and a sort of wrestling match broke out between you. When you were left breathless and painted covered, you escaped out of the crowd and over to the food stands on the side. You had a sweaty, shirtless and colourful Van by your side and his jumper tied around your waist.

Van sat down on an empty patch of concrete and patted the space beside him. You crouched down and took some hot chips from the box in his hands. Although it was shitty, overpriced festival food, god it was good. You ate in silence, wolfing down the chips quickly into your drunken, hungry stomachs.

When you were done, you tried to get back to your group before the main event started.

“You know the headline act is Annie Mac doing a DJ set? You literally know her. You could’ve gotten in easy…why didn’t we think of that?” you said to Van as you pushed through hordes of moving bodies.

Van’s faced dropped and he looked dumbstruck for a moment. Then he shrugged and hung an arm around your shoulder.

“Doesn’t matter, I got in. I’m here, you’re here,” he said, pulling you in for a kiss. “And that’s all I care about.”

“I am so fucking happy you’re home,” you sighed, your heart feeling fuzzy and warm. You rested your head on his chest and shut your eyes in relief.

“Me too, love.”

You gave up on finding the others, you’d meet them once it was all over. You and Van squeezed in between a random group of people and boogied with them instead. A remix of One Direction’s ‘What Makes You Beautiful’ began playing and everyone cheered. You glanced at Van with a smirk. He was nodding his head to the beat unaware.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing……’I promised Ma a jacuzzi see’,” you teased, referring to the tweet he’d sent to one of the boys in One Direction a while back. You found that whole ‘feud’ hilarious.

Van gave you a look and knocked his shoulder into yours. “Shut up….now come here.”

He bent down and hoisted you up onto his shoulders. You screamed and clung to him, worried you’d fall. Though quickly you got your balance and felt literally on top of the world as you looked at the massive crowd around you all moving to the rhythm of the music. The lights were bright and colourful, so were the people with their glowing t-shirts or painted faces and bodies. It was a jungle out there and you loved it.

Most importantly, you loved the boy who was holding you tightly, making sure you wouldn’t fall.

[pug-bitch]

That’s not why I’m going (11)

Forgiving yourself

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez

Rating: some foul language, some extremely suggestive, and not one, but 2 VERY steamy scenes, around 60 diamonds each :D. (Yes, it got a little out of hand) This is absolutely NOT appropriate for people under 18. This also alludes to pretty disturbing content, regarding Amara’s backstory (trigger warning: death - if I say anything else, it will spoil the end of the chapter, but if you feel like this could trigger you, you could stop before the last section of the chapter!).

Word count: 4,130 (let me know if the ‘keep reading’ cutoff isn’t working well!)

Notes: This picks up pretty much where we left off, during the last night in Lythikos, starting with Drake’s POV.

I know I said yesterday that I wouldn’t be able to write much this week because of work, and it’s still true. The next chapter will probably come later this week or even during the weekend. I’ll keep you guys posted.

Also, I wanted to add a disclaimer. I disagree with Drake, I think Monster-in-law is an awesome movie and I love Jane Fonda.

*****

They had been standing there for a while, watching their friends have fun, and then Amara joined in for a couple minutes to try out a skating move taught by Hana. She had left her phone with Drake, not wanting to risk shattering it in a fall. Drake was holding it in his hand, when it suddenly started vibrating.

Afraid to see the dreaded name ‘Michael’ pop up, he carefully looks at the screen.

No Michael this time, it just said ‘Papi’.

‘Suarez,’ he yells out, ‘your phone’s ringing!’

She stops smiling and skates back towards him, visibly stressed out. ‘Who is it?’

‘I think it’s your dad.’

She sighs and says ‘I should take this. He never calls, it could be serious.’

He nods as she holds onto his arm to remove her skates and get back into her boots.

She adds: ‘Do you know where I can find a quiet space to call him back?’

‘Yeah, hold on a second.’ He waves to Liam, not wanting him to shit a brick again when he disappears with Amara.

Liam approaches, and asks ‘Is everything ok?’

‘Yeah,’ Drake replies, ‘I’m gonna take Amara to a silent place, she needs to call her dad back, ok?’

Liam, visibly relieved that Drake is now sort of asking him permission to spend alone time with her, acquiesces and goes back to his ice skating routine.

‘Alright Suarez, let’s go. Is it still ringing?’

‘No, he’s probably leaving a voicemail, but I’m gonna call him back. He had a minor heart attack about a year ago, so everytime he calls, I always expect the worst, you know?’

Drake smiles and nods, gently taking her hand, now that they’re out of view.

‘Here we go, this should be quiet and still within wifi range. I’ll leave you to it.’

She grabs him by the forearm. ‘No. Stay, please?’

He didn’t expect that. She was so private that the fact that she wanted him to be next to her while she calls her dad truly made his heart flutter.

She hits the FaceTime button and her dad picks up immediately.

‘Mija!’ he says enthusiastically.

‘Papi, are you ok?’

‘Yeah yeah, don’t worry! I left you a voicemail, I knew that you would worry otherwise. I’m all good, sweetie.’

‘Papi, this is a FaceTime call, please stop showing me the inside of your ear.’

Drake chuckled. Dads.

‘Ohhh, so I can see you? Wow, qué bonita eres, mija! What’s up with the snow? Weren’t you supposed to be in Italy?’

‘I’m in Cordonia, Papi. It has several climates, and now we’re in the North, near Switzerland. Isn’t it pretty?’

‘Oh it sure is, honey. Look, I don’t want to keep you from your friends, I just wanted to tell you something, ok?’

She sighs but her smile never falters. ‘Tell me, Dad.’

‘I talked to Michael. He said your last phone call did not go very well. He made a mistake sweetie. He didn’t mean what he said, and Lord knows I don’t agree with what he said to you either.’ Her dad’s voice cracks. ‘We miss him every day mija, but I also miss you. Please stop punishing yourself.’

Amara’s eyes fill with tears. Drake has to fight his urge to dive in and hug her tight. ‘Papi, stop… Please…’

Tears stream down her face, and her dad is audibly crying too. Drake wonders if he should do something. ‘Mira Amara, it was not your fault. Those things happen, unfortunately. It’s been two years. Please start forgiving yourself. Please baby. I miss seeing you smile. Michael regrets, too.’

Amara tries to collect herself. ‘I know, he apologized. I just can’t look at Callie’s little face without...thinking of Sergio.’

Drake hears her dad muffle a sob. ‘Me neither baby. But Nancy and I are worried about you. So is Michael. Please start living your life again. Can you promise me?’

Amara takes a deep breath. ‘Te prometo, Papi. Voy a vivir de nuevo.’

‘Gracias, mija. Te amo mucho.’

‘Te amo también.’

Drake can’t speak a lot of  Spanish, but he understands that this is a private moment, and he should walk away. But as soon as he turns around, Amara calls out for him. ‘Drake! Can you...stay for a sec?’ She whispers, ‘Say hi to my dad?’

He’s taken aback, but moved that she wants them to meet. She probably wants to show her dad that she’s not alone in the snow, but still, it creates a warm feeling in his chest. ‘I’d love to.’

He walks in front of the camera, as Amara introduces him. ‘Dad, I want you to meet my friend Drake. He’s been an amazing support here, and I want you to know that I’m not alone, ok?’

‘Nice to meet you, Mr. Suarez,’ Drake says with a wave and a charming smile.

‘Nice to meet you too, Drake, please call me Jorge.’

‘Deal. How are you doing, Jorge?’

‘Good, better now that I know my daughter has people to look out for her, you know.’

‘You can count on me, I got her back, ok?’ He wraps Amara in a hug, and Jorge shows a relieved smile.

They say their goodbyes, and start walking back to the group, in silence. Drake knew there was something dark in her past, but he had no idea Amara was feeling so guilty about something that had happened two years ago. Seeing her break down had broken his heart, and he wanted to help her overcome whatever had happened. He definitely didn’t want to pry, but he also hoped she would open up to him. Trusting him with meeting her dad was a good start. Drake breaks the ice. ‘I see where you get your looks from.’

Amara bursts out laughing. ‘Oh my God, you did not just say that my dad is hot.’

‘Well, he’s got your dashing smile, that’s all I’m saying.’

‘Shut up, Walker. Thank you for humoring me. I didn’t mean to drag you into my family drama.’

‘Please. It was my pleasure. Your dad sounds really sweet.’

‘On top of being hot? Yeah, he’s amazing. I lucked out.’ She pauses, and stares at the horizon. ‘I hope I didn’t scare you off. Meeting the dad pretty early on was probably not a sexy move.’

‘I like that you asked. And you were right to, because now your dad knows that you’re not alone out here, and that you’ve got me.’

She gives him a playful smile. ‘Oh yeah? Are you gonna protect me from the evils of this world?’

‘Well, I think you can defend yourself just fine, Detective,’ he whispers. ‘But what I’m here for, is to remind you that you’re amazing and that, just like your dad says, you should live your life on your terms.’

She smiles at him earnestly, and they peacefully rejoin the group.

*****

‘The bouquet of this one is very interesting!’

Drake, Amara, and Olivia were rolling their eyes throughout all of Kiara’s descriptions of each wine they tasted. Maxwell, wanting to stir shit as always, made sure to ask her for her opinion every time she took a sip, because he got a kick out of watching his friends cringe.

Amara had tried what felt like fifteen different wines and was starting to feel it. She was a tad dizzy and even the cheese Olivia had put out for them to nibble on wasn’t helping much. Everyone around was quite drunk, which she suspected was exactly Olivia’s plan. Liam especially was getting extremely giggly, and Olivia was all over him. The only person keeping it together was, unsurprisingly, Madeleine, whose stick up her ass was as stiff as ever.

‘We should play a game,’ says Maxwell excitedly.

‘YES!’ Hana yells, barely able to stand on her feet.

Olivia sighs but gives in. ‘Alright, what do you have in mind, Beaumont?’

‘Well,’ he continues, getting giddier by the second, ‘we could play Never Have I Ever.’

‘Oh shocker,’ Olivia replies, ‘that’s all you ever want to play.’

‘Because it’s FUN!’ he says loudly.

Olivia concedes and asks who wants to start. Obviously, Maxwell is the first to raise his hand. ‘Never have I ever...seen Liam’s butt!’

He giggles so hard that even Olivia has trouble remaining serious. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the nobility of Cordonia. (Plus Drake and Amara.)

No one drinks, except Drake and Olivia. Amara squeals ‘Are you kidding me guys? You’re drinking to this?’

Drake shrugs, ‘We’ve played sports together. We’ve seen each other’s butts.’

Olivia adds, ‘And when you’re three years old, butts are not that big a deal.’

Amara cannot believe this is the state of Cordonia right now. ‘Alright, drink away! I guess it’s your turn, Olivia.’

She clears her throat and carefully announces: ‘Never have I ever had sex in a swimming pool.’

Madeleine sighs with disgust, turns around and leaves. Maxwell says sarcastically: ‘...and she was never seen again!’

Everyone bursts out laughing, and most of the crowd starts drinking. They go another round, and it’s Olivia’s turn again. ‘Never have I ever had sex with a cop.’ She holds Drake’s gaze as she finishes her sentence, watching him drink. Jeez, Amara thinks. Olivia was really enjoying her newfound information.

Liam raises an eyebrow. ‘When have you ever had sex with a cop, Drake?’

He coughs. ‘I don’t tell you everything, Your Highness.’

The crowd oohs, and Hana’s turn comes again. ‘Never have I ever had a sibling!’

Amara knows this was an innocent way to make people drink, but her heart drops. She reluctantly drinks, as she watches Drake take a sip too. Hana couldn’t know how much this sentence had hurt her, of course, but still. She takes another big gulp, hoping for the pain to go away.

And it does, for a while; it even gives way to more fun, as she enjoys the company of her new friends. It was nice hanging out with these guys, and to forget about the competition. They go a few more rounds, until people start to scatter before dinner. Penelope and Kiara go back to their rooms to change, and Liam goes to Olivia’s study to reply to some official emails. Not sure it’s a good idea in his drunken state, but he’s the boss.

The rest of them continue to play for a bit, drinking more and more wine. Amara can’t keep her eyes off of Drake, and his muscular arms every time he takes a sip. She flashes back to him pulling her back into bed that very morning, begging her to wait a bit before getting up. She thinks about his kiss, his smell, his touch. God, she’s drunk. She’s not even trying to hide the fact that she’s staring, but why should she? It’s just Max, Olivia and Hana. They don’t care.

Drake excuses himself to go to the bathroom. Amara waits a couple of seconds, and makes up an excuse about having to call her roommate. If only Mia knew she was her alibi, she’d be proud.

She follows Drake down the hall, and waits until he comes out of the bathroom. She pushes him back in, a hand on his mouth to muffle his gasp.

‘Shh,’ she says. ‘Be quiet.’

‘God, Suarez,’ he whispers, his words slurred, courtesy of the wine. ‘You scared me.’

‘Not my intention,’ she says, unzipping his pants.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Nothing,’ she responds playfully, before planting a deep kiss on his lips.

Her hands roam inside his jeans, as he quietly moans. She finds his already hard dick, and strokes it enthusiastically.

‘You’re crazy,’ he slurs. ‘What if someone notices…’

‘Shh, everything’s good… we’ve got some time…’

She gets on her knees, not even thinking about the fact that this is a bathroom floor. She sets Drake’s cock free, and runs her tongue across his length. He moans, his eyes closed. ‘Mmm Amara…’

She wraps her hand around his balls, drawing more moans and groans from him, and takes his tip in her mouth. God, he tastes good. She’d wanted to do this all day. His breathing quickens as she takes him in her mouth, still massaging his balls. His hands stroke her hair, and follow the movements of her head.

As he is getting harder than she thought was possible, he guides her back up, kissing her deeply and unzipping her jeans. He quickly puts his hand in her underwear, caressing her already wet slit. She lets out a moan, muffled by Drake’s kiss.

He pulls down her pants and underwear, and props her up on the sink. After teasing her entrance with the tip of his cock, her moans let him know that he’s welcome to enter her. He pushes himself inside her, as she grabs on to his ass, guiding him in and out.

‘Fuck me,’ she whispers in his ear. His rhythm accelerates, and Amara feels waves of pleasure invading her. She’s still sore from their previous encounters, but she doesn’t care. She just wants him inside her, as deep as possible. She wraps her legs around him tighter, pulling him deeper.

‘I’m so close,’ he whispers, and so is she, she feels like she’s about to explode. She kisses him more passionately, their tongues enmeshed together, when she finally feels her orgasm rush through her body. She tries to remain quiet, but her panting does not leave any room for doubt. Drake follows suit right away; he tries to pull out, but Amara’s legs are still firmly wrapped around him, and he comes inside her.

Still out of breath, they clean up and put their clothes back on. ‘God, Amara, that was amazing.’

She kisses him on the lips, and says ‘So amazing. Thank you.’

‘Are you kidding? Thank YOU. Is it ok that I didn’t pull out?’

‘I’m on the pill, don’t worry. I just really wanted to feel you…’

He smiles and kisses her deeply. ‘Ok. Let me come out first. They must think I’m pretty sick by now.’

‘Ew. Go. I’ll fix my hair.’

*****

No one had noticed how long they’d been gone, thanks to Olivia’s bottomless wine collection. Dinner had been pleasant, they’d all been in a terrific mood, again thanks to all the wine. Madeleine had come back, and they’d all steered clear of any sexual topics so as not to scare her away again, even if the perspective of scaring her away was very tempting.

Fortunately for Drake and Amara, everyone was very tired and eager to go to bed, so they didn’t have to wait very long until they had their alone time. Drake was looking forward to being able to just be with her, and relax. Maybe also have sex again, although he didn’t want her to think he was a perv.

They get settled in Amara’s room this time, and she immediately gets comfy in her pyjamas, which are basically glorified underwear. Drake doesn’t complain.

‘Mind if I get comfortable too?’

She raises an eyebrow. ‘Suit yourself.’

He takes off his jeans and button-down shirt, leaving him in his boxers and T-shirt. Amara’s eyes light up. ‘Are you gonna think I’m an insatiable ho if I tell you you look really hot?’ she asks.

He chuckles. ‘I was gonna ask you the same thing.’

They get into bed, comfortably snuggled up in each other’s arms, and Amara turns on her computer. They briefly argue about what movie to watch, and even if he really doesn’t want to watch Monster-in-law, Drake enjoys the very normal, very intimate banter. So, this is what would happen if they were openly together? They’d have a normal life, punctuated with tiny fights about horrible rom coms starring Jane Fonda? Life could be a lot worse.

They settle for Hitch, which isn’t much better, but Drake likes Will Smith, so he agrees. About five minutes into the movie, he starts kissing Amara’s neck, stroking her stomach under her pyjama top.

‘Mr. Walker, is that a boner on my lower back, or are you just happy to see me?’

‘I don’t think that’s how the saying goes. Because the answer is, both.’

She laughs. He runs his hands higher under her top, and finds her breasts. God, he loves her breasts. Big, round, perky, the exact ones he would draw, if he was asked to draw his ideal breasts. He kneads them in his hands, gently pinching her nipples, which draws a few moans from Amara, who is starting to wiggle her ass on his erection. They truly couldn’t get enough of each other. They had started having sex not even 24 hours ago and they were already beginning round 5. He couldn’t help it, though. Not only did she make his heart skip a beat, she also gave him a boner every time she moved.

‘Do you want me to stop?’ he asks, not wanting to initiate if she was too tired.

‘Mmm,’ she moans, ‘please don’t stop.’

God, they were horndogs. He slides one of his hands off her breast, down towards the waistband of her little shorts. He knew she was going commando under there, and it drove him crazy. He slips his hand in her shorts, and as he finds her pussy and starts caressing it, her moans become more intense. ‘Oh, Drake,’ she whispers. She is so wet, still. He wants her so much. He loves her body, her curves, her skin, the smell of her hair...he couldn’t get enough. His cock is so hard it’s starting to hurt. He continues rubbing it on her ass, and she pushes hard against it.

He circles her clit with his finger, and slides one finger inside her. She lets out a faint gasp. ‘Two fingers,’ she says. He complies. His fingers enter her again and again, as she moves against him. Then, it looks like she can’t take it any longer. ‘Slide inside me…’ she whispers, turning her head slightly to kiss him.

She doesn’t have to tell him twice. He swiftly pulls her shorts aside, frees his cock from his boxers, and slides it into her dripping wet pussy, as instructed. She groans loudly. ‘Fuck… it feels so good…’

He realizes they’d both forgotten about their responsible behaviors as they had forgone condoms. Amara was on the pill though, and they’d had a conversation this morning about being tested after their last partner.

God, she feels good around him. He loses himself in the moment as he gently fucks her from behind, still caressing her breasts with one hand, and her clit with the other.

She turns around to kiss him deeply. He fucking loves her lips, the way she kisses him, gentle and sexy at the same time. Her kiss becomes more eager, and she whispers, ‘Get on top of me.’

He loves that she’s bossing him around like this. He would basically do anything she wanted him to do to her, and he finds these instructions extremely endearing and arousing.

So, he complies, and she gets on her back, her legs spread. He pauses for a second, to admire her. He pulls her top off, and gives more attention to her breasts before slipping back inside her.

He makes love to her for a long while, both of them very much entangled in each other’s kisses, and their bodies as close as possible. Amara holds him tight, still wrapping her legs around him to push him deeper inside her. Drake has to regroup and avoid coming too early; he wants the moment to last.

Finally, she asks him to go faster, as she’s getting close. He makes her come, and he loves feeling her contracting around him. It drives him over the edge, and it’s not long until he loses control too, exhausted and satisfied.

They fall asleep in each other’s arms, Drake being the big spoon. Before drifting off to sleep, Drake showers Amara with a million neck kisses. He thinks about how lucky he is to have found her, and how important she’d become in just a couple of weeks. He didn’t know much about what he wanted out of life, but he knew one thing: he had no intention of losing her.

*****

Amara woke up in a sweat, out of breath, with horrifying images running through her head. She calms down when she sees Drake next to her, his arms around her, and a worried look upon his face.

‘Amara, are you ok?’

She thought she was. They’d had an amazing, intimate night. When she fell asleep, she was so blissfully happy that she’d never thought that she would have the nightmare again, especially not tonight.

But the subconscious was a complex machine. Even though her night of lovemaking with Drake was on her mind when she drifted off to sleep, her demons regained control of her brain during the night. Probably because of Olivia’s little discovery about her past, and, most importantly, her talk with her dad about forgiving herself.

What she realized was that she couldn’t run away from it. Even in the happiest of moments, as she was entangled with the man she was falling for, her past was catching up to her.

‘Amara? Please say something. You were having something like a panic attack. Like you did on the plane. Are you ok?’

She’d have to deal with her subconscious. Maybe it was time.

‘I’m fine, I--’

She chokes up. She can’t even control it. She’s just so afraid of what he’s gonna think of her once he knows what she’s responsible for, and she doesn’t want anything to change, ever. The way he looks at her… She’s never experienced that before. And, despite her best efforts, she is convinced that she doesn’t deserve it.

‘Amara, don’t cry...what’s going on? Is it about your talk with your dad?’

She can’t do anything but nod, tears streaming down her face. She realizes she’s naked, and she wraps herself in the sheet, as if to protect herself.

‘Baby please, talk to me…’

He hugs her tight, and strokes her hair. How did she get so lucky? Was he going to be disgusted by who she really was, and leave her?

‘Drake, I...I have nightmares. PTSD.’

He nods, an understanding look on his face. ‘I figured. Did something happen when you were in the NYPD?’

She nods, unable to stop the tears.

‘You can tell me anything, Amara. I promise.’

She remembers the promise she made her dad, just the previous afternoon. To forgive herself and live. She has to tell him. If she can’t tell Drake, she can’t tell anyone.

She takes a deep breath. ‘My brother. He--he died.’ She pauses, and more tears flow out of her eyes.

Drake is still holding her tight. ‘Was your brother named Sergio? Is that who you were talking about on the phone?’

She nods. Damn, it feels weird to hear his name out of Drake’s mouth. They would never be able to meet. Sergio would have loved him, though. ‘Yeah. He...he was a cop, too. My partner was out sick that day and I--I’ She exhales. ‘I needed someone to go interrogate a suspect, and I asked him to go with me. It was supposed to be a routine interrogation, and we didn’t--didn’t gear up.’ She sobbed. ‘The perp had a gun. Tried to run away, we chased him into a corner. Pulled out his gun. Shot it. Sergio leapt in front of me to protect me.’

That’s all she can handle. She breaks down. Drake is stroking her hair, and kissing the top of her head. ‘I’m so sorry, Amara, that’s horrible. I’m so sorry.’ His voice cracks. She’s afraid to look at him. What if she sees something different in his eyes?

Still, she’d have to know. She sniffs, and takes a look at Drake. He has tears in his eyes. ‘I’m so sorry, Amara. I can’t even imagine what you must have gone through. But it’s not your fault.’ He kisses her forehead. ‘Your dad’s right. It’s not your fault. You have to forgive yourself.’

There is so much kindness in his eyes, so much understanding, so much compassion, when she expected him to push her away. He gives her a soft kiss on the lips, and wipes her tears away.

She takes a deep breath. ‘Michael was his husband. They have a daughter together, Callie. If it wasn’t for me, she’d still have two daddies.’

Drake wraps her in a tight hug. She feels just as shattered as she has felt for the past two years, but now something else had sprouted.

Now, wrapped in the arms of this man, whom she was falling for, under a flurry of his kisses, lulled and reassured by his kind words, she wanted to heal.

*****

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[sheriddleston]

00q amnesia au because i’m cliche like that

A/N: tfw you get tired of exams and decide to try to be creative again and dust off something from 007 fest this year as a snippet you will never expand on again :P 

The sight of the flat left Q with the same sort of déjà vu feeling he’d been having since he first opened his eyes in the hospital. The flat looked nice, far nicer than anything he ever remembered – or even anything he could see himself living in. The décor was heavy on pastel colours and minimalistic in a way that made Q’s skin prickle; only the obscenely wealthy could choose to have so little. Not for the first time, Q wondered just who he’d gotten involved with.

Nevertheless there was recognition there, like hearing an obscure song on the radio years later.

Before he could dwell too much on it though, he heard a jingling sound to his right and something darted out of the bedroom door- something dark, fast and furry-

“Ginger!” Q instinctively dropped to his knees and gathered up the ball of fur in his arms. “Oh and Blue!” he exclaimed at the second cat slinking out after the first.

They purred affectionately, rubbing up against his thighs and Q couldn’t help the delighted laugh that burst out of him. Clearly, they’d missed him.

A soft noise from behind had him turning his head towards the door. Oh right. He’d almost forgotten -hah, forgotten! How silly of him. Bond.

The man in question had finished with the extremely complex-looking lock to the flat and was now gazing at Q with an inscrutable look on his face. His body language was as closed off as ever, hands shoved into his pockets.

“What?” Q asked almost defensively. Ginger nipped at his finger.

“You remember the cats,” Bond said dryly. He might have even looked a little amused. “Even the new one.” Startled, Q looked back at the cats clawing at him and realized it was true. He did. He remembered the cats, the way Blue liked to be cuddled while Ginger was a biter. He remembered the cats he hadn’t even known he’d had- but evidently not his job or his flat or his co-workers or his husband.

Christ, what a mess. Q could feel himself flushing as he averted his gaze. “Sorry,” he mumbled. Although what for, he couldn’t really say. He didn’t ask to be bashed over the head so hard that he’d actually forgotten almost all of his adult life and everyone in it, vague university recollections aside. He wasn’t willfully forgetting anything thank you very much and it’s not like Bond had been much help in the matter.

Ever since it’d become clear in the hospital that he had no idea who anyone was, that the memories that he did have were more scattered than the pieces of a toddler’s Lego set, Bond –apparently his fucking husband- hadn’t ever been in the same room alone with him or spoken more than a handful of sentences.

If anything, his rock had been Eve, who’d taken to explaining things to him patiently and shooting Bond dirty looks whenever the man ducked out of the hospital room.

“He’s a bit emotionally constipated, that one,” she’d said apologetically. “Don’t worry, he’ll get over it soon enough.” And the look on her face had told Q that if he didn’t, Eve would make him. Q hoped so because he wasn’t sure how exactly he could tell, but he got the feeling that Bond had been drinking. And often.

Bond let out a sigh, dragging Q’s thoughts back to the present. “It’s fine,” he said and Q felt a spark of annoyance light up inside. Of course it was bloody fine. Q knew it was fine, Bond’s the one who had all the problems with Q right now. “Go wash up,” Bond waved a hand through the air. “I’ll…make us dinner.”

There were a million things Q could say, a million sharp things that let Bond know exactly how he was feeling. But the slump in Bond’s shoulders as he walked over to the fridge made Q pause. In the end he decided to say nothing at all and quietly headed to the bathroom. Ginger and Blue followed at his heels. Whatever relief he’d felt at their arrival had evaporated, only to be replaced with the near-constant doubt.

The moment of privacy in the bathroom gave him a moment to think, to piece together all the oddities and soothe the frayed edges of his nerves. His head throbbed dully behind his eyes; blunt force trauma wasn’t going to be easy to shake off.

He wasn’t obligated to remain here, he reminded himself. He could leave. He had to have money for himself right? And he was fairly certain Eve would help him. Sort-of certain. This was…a trial run of sorts. Familiar surroundings to help him remember and all that. And the man was his fucking husband. He was supposed to be with family. So then why did he feel so off-kilter?

When he made it back to the kitchen, Bond was cutting up vegetables on the counter. Despite himself, Q took a moment to admire the way the muscles of his back shifted. At least the bloke was drop dead fucking gorgeous. Q apparently had quite the taste in men.

Bond looked up at that moment, as though sensing Q’s thoughts, then smirked when he caught Q’s gaze. He could feel himself flushing again, embarrassment coursing hotly through him. He bloody hated it, how he seemed to be such a complete open book to everyone he met now. Q never did well under pressure so perhaps his next words could be excused.

“You’re not all some sort of great big crime family, are you?” he blurted out.

“What?” Oh good. Bond looked genuinely confused. That was promising. Unless he was a very, very good faker which could very well be in the realm of possibilities. He carefully put down the knife to face Q, who tried not to gulp. “What makes you think that?”

“Well it’s just,” Q waved a hand around in the air for emphasis. “The way you lot are. The way you move, the locks in this place, all the secrecy about my job. Something’s very…shady about it. I mean, look at me! I got hit over the head! Deliberately! I don’t know how common attempted murder is but this isn’t exactly filling me with a lot of confidence. I don’t know who I am, or what I do or anything beyond this is your husband and those are your friends. It kind of...makes me wonder what I’ve gotten myself into.”

Q wasn’t made for keeping still and quiet and after an age of listening and nodding and trying to gather data, all of it just spilled forth from his mouth, without his permission. God, he thought as Bond’s blue eyes roamed across his face, he’d said too much. Now they were going to decide he was too much trouble and dump him in the Thames.

No, he reasoned. They wouldn’t dump him. They spent too much effort rehabilitating him to just cut him loose for a few questions now…where the fuck were these thoughts even coming from? Was this normal?

“Can’t keep anything from you huh?” Bond mused, almost to himself. He looked wistful, fond, and something twisted in Q’s gut at the sight. It was so very rare that Bond didn’t keep himself carefully controlled around him. “You’ve always been too smart for your own good.”

…Never mind, the Thames seemed more likely right around now.

“Would you stay?” Bond asked, suddenly taking a few steps forward. Something in his steely blue eyes made Q’s heart lurch into his throat; like coloured liquid nitrogen, cold but burning in its intensity. “If I told you to take us in good faith and trust us? Without asking any more questions?”

“I…” Q wanted to say no because what the fuck? What the actual fuck, his heart was thudding like a jackhammer. But…impossibly, he also wanted to say yes. And not, funnily enough, because of what might happen to him if he refused but because of the look in his eyes. Q remembered that. When the extent of Q’s memory loss had become clear. The quiet sort of devastation on Bond’s face, the way he looked shattered open. Those few moments where Q felt like he was looking at a person and not an actor. “I…”

Bond let out a sigh, leaning back on the kitchen counter. To Q, it seemed like he was deliberating something. There was a pause where nothing happened, time seemed suspended- then Bond met his eyes again.

“MI6,” he said.

“Huh?”

“MI6,” he repeated carefully. “I work for MI6, as a field agent. You work -or worked, I suppose- for them as well. Before. You were far up in the food chain. Obviously, the information regarding your little accident is sensitive. With your memory compromised we weren’t sure how much we should tell you.”

Oh. Ohhh. That- That made sense actually. Potentially. “A field agent? As in, a spy? For MI6?”

“Commander James Bond of the Royal Naval Reserve,” Bond confirmed, and he didn’t snap a salute or anything but there was a practiced ease in his voice. Q thought back to Tanner’s firm stance, Eve’s polished everything. The suits and the secrecy. If Bond was an MI6 agent, then Q was, what? A co-worker?

“Are we really even married?” Q wondered aloud, uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Or have you just been assigned to babysit me while I recover?”

Bond made a strangled noise and oh, there it was again. The devastation. Fuck. The roiling in his gut intensified. “We’re married,” Bond affirmed quietly and turned away.

Q was struck by the sudden, intense need to make it okay again.

“So,” he said, desperately casting around for a topic. Luckily, amnesia made it an easy search. “So, we were co-workers then? Isn’t there supposed to be rules against this sort of thing?”

“…There are,” Bond replied, still looking away. “We didn’t care.”

Huh, how interesting. That sounded…almost romantic. An illicit office relationship, spies and the Secret Service- all very noir-esque. And for the second time that night, Q let his mouth run away from him. “That sounds kind of hot, actually.”

There was a pause in which both Bond and Q took the time to process Q’s statement properly.  And then possibly the wildest thing happened since Q had woken up in this confusing world. Bond laughed. It burst forth like it was surprised out of him- and to be fair, it most likely was- one hand going to the counter to steady himself.  The sound was deep and seemed to curl inside Q’s ribcage and settle there.

Bond looked up at him, the mirth in his eyes made them softer, made the lines in his face deepen and the corners crinkle-

Oh, Q thought helplessly as his insides fluttered about. Things were starting to make much more sense now. It looked like he was sticking around after all. There was no possible way he could leave now.

“Well,” he told Bond, brusquely, all business now. “Since you’ve already told me the big secret, I suppose there’s really no point keeping hush anymore is there? You had better start from the beginning.”

[iliketowrite1996]

Tying Shoelaces and New Faces part 9

 TRIGGER WARNINGS AND THEMES- SINGLE PARENTHHOOD, LIES, ILLUSIONS OT ONE NIGHT STANDS, MENTIONS OF DIVORCE

Intomba- ‘’Daughter’’ in Xhosa.

‘’Nah, man. Can’t babysit tonight. Got plans,’’ Erik tells T’Challa, and from the noise coming from his side during their phone call, T’Challa can tell that his cousin is moving something around.

   ‘’Oh? What do you have planned, N’Jadaka,’’ T’Challa inquires curiously.

   ‘’Plans,’’ his cousin says flatly, because he truly is a turd.

   ‘’N’Jadaka.’’

   ‘’I got a date with his girl. Fine as heck, chill as can be. It’s gonna be great.’’

   ‘’Ohhh, so you’re going on a date,’’ T’Challa smirks.

   ‘’Aye, man, wipe that goofy looking smirk off ya face. It ain’t even like that.’’

   ‘’N’Jadaka, you haven’t been on an actual date in two years. Now all of a sudden you have plans with someone? She must be special.’’

   There’s a momentary pause before N’Jadaka breathes on the other side.

   ‘’She is, man. I’m just tryna see where this goes, ya know?’’

   T’Challa knows very well.

   No one knows, but he’s really excited about his first date with you. So excited, in fact, that he realizes he hasn’t felt this way since Nakia.

   It’s odd feeling now, but it is certainly not unwelcomed by him.

   ‘’You’ll have to tell me about it at dinner tomorrow,’’ he insists, ‘’I’ve tot go to. I’m taking Autumn on our weekly Saturday daddy-daughter time.’’

   ‘’Sounds good, man. Tell Little Bit I love her. I’ll see you tomorrow.’’

   The cousins say their ‘’Goodbyes before T’Challa heads off to Autumn’s room, where he finds his babygirl still dressed in her pajama and staring at her clothes, little finger tapping against her chin.

   ‘’What are you doing, intomba?’’

   ‘’Trying to decide on an outfit.’’

   She currently has her cranberry, corduroy cardigan with the pink turtleneck and tights, her overalls with the multicolored sweater, and her jeans with her black turtleneck, with pink flowers embroidered on it.

   ‘’Hmm, can I help?’’

   ‘’Of course, baba!’’

   ‘’Why don't you wear this dress tomorrow to dinner,’’ he points to the outfit, ‘’And you can wear this overall outfit right now.’’

   ‘’Sounds good!’’

   ‘’Great! Now, go get washed up and come back so I can help you get changed.’’

   Getting Autumn Elizabeth Udaku ready is a process.

   First he sends her to wash up.

   Then he sends her back because she definitely did not do to the first time.

   Then he helps her get dressed.

   Then he does her hair.

   This is the department that is trickiest for him. His hair is thick, but it’s cropped short. He moisturizes it and gets it cut every so often and keeps it moving.

   Autumn has length and thickness of her hair. When down, in its curls, it grazes her shoulder.

   So T’Challa just usually pulls it into a bun, and Erik does it for his baby cousin when he can.

   Right now, he’s sliding rain boots onto her little feet, ready to head out for their day of adventures.

   ‘’Put your coat on,’’ he tells her, dusting off his jeans from where she had her foot before sliding his own shoes on.

   The dynamic duo are out of the door fairly quickly, all things (Autumn taking forever) considered.

   T’Challa always takes her through the park if the weather permits. It’s nearly November and it is cold, but the sun is shining so he does so.

   Autumn kicks the leaves as she has done every single day that he’s taken her to school this week, picking up her favorite ones and placing them into her little bag.

   ‘’Baba, where are we going?’’

   ‘’To the children’s museum. They have a new exhibit that I believe you will like,’’ T’Challa informs his daughter, stopping to pick her up and place her on his hip so that he can carry her.

   ‘’Yay! Is it about movies?’’

   She’s bringing it up because he watched two movies with her last night, to make up for cutting move night a bit short last week because of his date.

   T’Challa doesn’t regret the date. Not in the slightest.

   But Autumn Elizabeth Udaku will  always come first, and he knows that you’ve already accepted that.

   Maybe that’s why he finds himself already falling for you.

   ‘’Actually, yes! It’s about some old movies that your grandpa and I used to watch together,’’ T’Challa confirms.

   His little girl is practically buzzing with anticipation as they reach the ticket booth and he buys three tickets.

   Confusions sets into her soft features as she counts the tickets and then herself and T’Challa.

   ‘’Why is there one more?’’

   ‘’Because Auntie Shuri wanted to spend time with her favorite niece!’’

   Autumn squeals as she turns to find her Auntie behind her, reaching out for her as she does so.

   T’Challa elts his little girl leave his arms as Shuri holds her close, pressing a kiss to her smoothed back curls, ‘’Look at you! You’ve grown so much!’’

   ‘’Baba says I’m getting taller every day,’’ the little girl beams proudly, showing off her tooth gap, ‘’Someday I will be as tall as him.’’

   T’Challa watches fondly as two of his favorite young women catch up, Shuri carrying the four-year-old into the museum.

   Autumn absolutely adore the exhibit, especially the one about the musical she used to watch with her bhabi in rainy days.

   ‘’Do you like that one,’’ Shuri had asked her niece after getting permission to take a picture of the young girl in front of the exhibit.

   Autumn nods enthusiastically, eyes wide with curiosity and the need to explore.

   She looks so much like Nakia when she does that, that T’Challa can see how she truly is a perfect blend of their personalities and features.

They exit the exhibit an hour after they arrive, T’Challa holding one of Autumn's hands as Shuri holds the other.

The little girl is enthralled with playing with the sand at the ‘’Dinosaur Exhibit’’ when Shuri turns to her brother.

‘’Who’s the girl?’’

T’Challa turns to her with wide eyes, ‘’W-what?’’

‘’You’re grinning all goofy and lovesick-like. Who’s the girl? There obviously is one,’’ Shuri shrugs, tossing her braids over her shoulder.

‘’What do you know,’’ T'Challa raises an eyebrow at his younger sister.

‘’More than you,’’ she mirrors his expression.

‘’Just someone I’ve been on one date with. We are meeting up again tonight,’’ he tells her, because there truly is no point arguing with Shuri.

‘’I see. Do baba and mother know?’’

‘’No, and I’d like to keep it that way,’’ he stresses, ‘’Until I see if something is going to come of it.’’

He really hopes that something does, but he won’t tell her that.

‘’Ahh, forbidden love,’’ she nods sagely, as if she has the wisdom of an elderly woman,’’Been there?’’

‘’Shuri, what?’’

‘’I’m kind of seeing this guy from my class. He’s really wet, really smart. Kind of a dork. Has a thing for old pop culture references.’’

‘’Do our parents know,’’ T’Challa questions, training his eyes back on Autumn.

‘’Mother does. Baba does not. Not yet, at least. You know how he can be.’’

‘’Protective,’’ T’Challa nods with a sigh.

‘’Yeah, that,’’ she shakes her head, ‘’I don’t want to hear it from him now. It would make things complicated.’’

That’s part of why T’Challa has not told N’Jadaka about his dates with you. The fewer people that know,t he better for the two of you.

Why invite the outside mess in before you know if there is going to be any business for them to even get into?

‘’Your secret's safe with me, brother. But I say we go get my niece and grab an early dinner. I’m hungry.’’

T'Challa thanks his baby sister with a smile before the pair retrieves Autumn and head out, looking for a kid-friendly restaurant to enjoy.

They settle on a pizza place, and Shuri is wiping Autumn’s face with a napkin as T'CHalla receives a text from you.

‘’Can’t wait for tonight! Dress casually, wear something you don't’ care  messing up’’

Thank goodness for Shuri being able to babysit Autumn tonight.

He can’t imagine where you’re taking him, but he knows that it'll be great because he’ll be with you.

He looks to Autumn, who is giggling as she and Shuri blow bubbles in their drink, because he can’t take them anywhere.

‘’Eh, stop that,’’ he chuckles at the two.

He has a great baby sister, wonderful daughter, and a date with you to look forward to.

Could this day get any better?

The day could not get any better form that moment, but it certainly did get awkward.

T’Challa found out that you wanted to go play paintball. That’s cool.

You bring along Sanaa and wait for her date. Alright.

Her date is N’Jadaka Udaku himself, who is looking at T’Challa like he’s struggling to put the pieces together.

   When you return from the bathroom to join them, he does.

   ‘’We gon’ talk later,’’ he says, shooting T'Challa a look before putting on his gear.

   It’s you and T'Challa against him and Sanaa, and you have a blast. Erik and Sanaa are a match, because they both break into the same happy dance and are already finish each other's sentences.

   ‘’So,’’ Erik turns to his cousin as you and Sanaa head to the bathroom before you all leave to go get dinner, ‘’You finally asked Little Bit’s teacher out.’’

   His tone and expression are both unreadable, so T'Challa treads lightly, carefully.

   ‘’Yes…’’

   A bright grin spreads across N’Jadaka’s face, and T’Challa feels relief washing over him like water, ‘’THAT’S MAH BOY.’’

   ‘’Keep your voice down, N’Jadaka!’’

   ‘’Look At my little cousin, man, taking chances and going on dates and getting numbers.’’

   ‘’I am literally a month younger than you, N’Jadaka.’’

   ‘’Don’t care, man,’’ Erik shrugs as he sees it and Sanaa returning, ‘’We gon’ talk about this some more later.’’

   It’s communicated only through a hand pat on the back, but N’Jadaka supports him. So the fact that another important person in his life supports this enough.

   T’Challa don't miss the fact that N’Jadaka sends him a smirk when he notices you intertwining your finger with his.

   He has his hand on your knee during dinner, gripping tightly as you two finish your food.

   ‘’Erik and I are gonna hit up a party. Don’t wait up,’’ Sanaa hugs you before turning to T’Challa and shaking his hand, ‘’Bye, T’Challa. It was nice to meet you.’’

   ‘’Likewise, Sanaa,’’ he states before looking to Erik, ‘’I will see you tomorrow, N’Jadaka.’’

   ‘’See you, man. Catch you later.’’

   Sanaa and Erik walk off, and you somehow doubt that, even if nothing major happens, she’ll be home tonight.

   T’Challa grabs your hand again, pressing a kiss to the back of it as he guides you to the car.

   The car ride to your apartment is filled with laughter and chatter as you to rehash tells of your time playing paintball.

   ‘’N’Jadaka is his real name. Erik is the name he uses with new people and in school sometimes. Plus, it was easier for Shuri to say ‘Erik’ when she was younger, and now it’s easier for Autumn to say it.  If he likes you and trusts you, though, he lets you call him ‘N’Jadaka’.’’

   ‘’Good to know,’’ you nod, admiring their close relationship.

   ‘’Still mad at you.’’

   You gape at the handsome man, ‘’What did I do?!’’

‘’That girl, Annabelle.., yeah, we never should have let her join our team! We should've gone with her brother,’’ T’Challa shakes his head amused.

   ‘’She actually shoot paintballs at me, like, girl! We are on the same team! We just lost!’’

   ‘’Can we please discuss how N’Jadaka and Sanaa’s dance is the Cabbage Patch? Like, why is that both of their go-to dance?’’

   ‘’Because they are a match made, T’Challa,’’ you giggle.

   He sombers up a bit, eyes trained on the road,and you worry if you said the wrong thing.

   ‘’They really are. He seems happy. This was god for him, ‘’T'Challa says as he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex.’’

   He pulls into a parking spot, turning off the car and pulling the key out of the ignition.

   ‘’So… I really like you,’’ T’Challa says, turning to you.

   ‘’I really like you, too, T’Challa.’’

   ‘’I’m not… I don’t want to rush into anything. I can’t afford to. Not with Autumn,’’ T’Challa reminds you.

   ‘’I know. I don’t, like… I don’t want to rush into this, either. It’s just not me, I can’t go fast,’’ you agree with him.

   ‘’I would really like to see you again,’’ T’Challa says earnestly.

   ‘’I’d like to see you again, too.’’

   ‘’Great! We can work it out for next weekend sometime. Um… can I kiss you again?’’

   You nod, and he leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips like he did eight days ago.

   For some reason, the spark ignites a fire that burns inside you, and it is a fire of bravery. That is why you ask him: ‘’Do you want to come up?’’

   He nods, knowing that Autumn is safe and sound at his parent’ house.

   He has one thing he never seems to have enough of during the day: time.

   T'Challa won’t lie and act like he doesn’t want to spend it with you.

   ‘’I don’t want to, like… I don’t want you to think that…’’

   You trail off, trying to find the right words as ou fish for you keys.

   ‘’We don’t have to do anything. We can just talk. I just want to spend time with you.’’

   It’s softly spoken and sweetly stated,a node nothing but fan the flames of bravery that are rushing inside of you.

   So here you go.

   You talk.

   And talk.

   And talk.

   You discuss past relationships. How you haven't had someone since last year that you could just talk to like this.

   He tells you about his divorce and being a single dad.

   He loves her so, so rich that it makes you realize how truly they adore each other.

   He tells you more about Wakanda as you tell him more about your hometown, groin up, and your college years.

   His hand rests on your shoulder, playing with the fabric of your sweatshirt as you do so.

   And it’s nice, because you trust him. It has only been short while since you met, but there’s something about this man that you can’t quite explain.

   It’s just… nice.

   It’s twelve in the morning when he stands, grabbing his coat as you walk him to the door.

   ‘’Can I kiss you,’’ you ask this time.

   He chuckles and nods, pressing his lips to yours for the second time that night.

   This kiss is different, though. It deepens ,and suddenly his hands are in the pockets of your ripped,faded jeans as he lies across the couch, you on top of him. His lips are warm and full as they move against yours, and the only sounds are soft groans and the sounds of you two kissing.

   It’s hot and it’s passionate. This is not love, but it’s stronger than infatuation

   With a start, you realize what it is: potential.

   Potential for a relationship that could be well worth the leap you’d have to take.

Into possibly getting your heartbroken.

Into this not working out.

Into this being something beautiful.

He moans into the kiss, bringing you out of your thoughts.

He hasn’t been kissed like that in ages.

‘’That was amazing,’’ you breathe out as you sit up so that he can't stand up.

‘’It was,’’ he kisses you once more, letting your lips move together for a few more seconds, ‘’But I must get home.’’

You stand to let him out then, a final goodbye kiss punctuating the last sentence in the story of your second date.

You go to sleep with a smile on your face and a warm feeling in your stomach.

Across the city, T’Challa does the same thing.

Something was born tonight: potential.

Potential for something great, a for a good and healthy relationship that the both of you deserve.

It’s up to you to grow that potential into a reality.

But based on the goodnight text and third date idea he just sent you before you went to sleep…

You have no worries about that being a problem.

DISCLAIMER- I DO NOT OWN MARVEL CHARACTERS OR THEIR FICTIONAL WORLDS, UNIVERSES, OR COUNTRIES. 

@ashanti-notthesinger​ @destinio1​ @afraiddreamingandloving​ @starsshines-blog​ @airis-paris14​ @syreanne​ @chaneajoyyy​ @90sinspiredgirl​ @shemiahsmelanin @zillmonger @skysynclair19 @bidibidibombaclaat @marvelpotterlove @constantlycravingtheunknown @imaginewhoever @wakanda-inspired @pocmarvelworks @theunsweetenedtruth @dreampovx

[verdigrisprowl]

Apr 11 - Cubs Baseball Game

Prowl and Soundwave go on a date. They take their holomatters to the first* Cubs home game of the season. They enjoy themselves greatly, confuse a human, get hit in the face with a baseball, and abandon a rental car like lawless beasts.

*First in the universe they visit. Differences between the first game in the universe they visit and the first game in this universe are entirely coincidental and have nothing to do with the fact that the mun couldn’t stream an early afternoon game the day before due to work.

ItsyBitsySpyers 6:33 pm ((hey so like show me what you mean)) VProwl 6:33 pm ((but i finally got it set up so I don't have to move it. 😔 ItsyBitsySpyers 6:34 pm ((afterward then)) VProwl 6:35 pm ((WELL. are we ready to go??)) ItsyBitsySpyers 6:35 pm ((ye)) VProwl 6:35 pm ((... at what point do we want to start them. like, at the entrance gate, or??)) ItsyBitsySpyers 6:37 pm ((yeah, in line or at the gate or whatever it is, so soundwave can ??? at security measures and prowl can get his gift)) VProwl 6:37 pm ((okay!)) VProwl 6:38 pm ((... i know whenever i do one-on-one streams either we try to do it asterisked and i slip into prose anyway, or we try to do prose and i slip into asterisks anyway, but i don't remember which)) ItsyBitsySpyers 6:38 pm ((it's usually the former)) VProwl 6:39 pm ((so we should just start with prose, then? ItsyBitsySpyers 6:39 pm ((might as well lmao)) VProwl 6:39 pm ((thank u.)) VProwl 6:42 pm It was more crowded than Prowl expected it would be.

No, that was a lie. He'd expected it to be this crowded. It was more crowded than Prowl HOPED it would be. They weren't even inside yet and there was already nearly too much motion for him.

He was soldiering on, though. They'd gotten all the way from his projector—left in a rental car in a parking garage (and THAT had been an adventure and a half)—across several blocks of Chicago to make it to the entrance. He'd survived the throngs of humans in the street heading for the stadium, and he'd survive the front gates.

He wasn't going to be very talkative until he was seated, though. ItsyBitsySpyers 6:50 pm Speaking of survival, Soundwave wasn't so sure he'd made it through the rental car driving intact. Being on the road again was fine by him, as he'd recently taken to the occasional quiet drive via holomatter. It was the being on the road IN SOMETHING ELSE WHILE SOMEBODY ELSE DROVE part that bothered him. Not only did he have to let someone else transport him, he had to trust that Prowl knew how to operate a human car as a human, and after seeing how well most mechs did at that...

The crowd didn't bother him as much as it did Prowl, partly because he wasn't actively listening to everyone in the area. A few people here and there, just to get an idea of what humans attending baseball games talked and thought about, but not the entire crowd.

He kept picking at his avatar's dress while he waited, irritated by the odd mix of textures, and glanced over at Prowl.

Nudge? No need to answer out loud. VProwl 6:55 pm Prowl started, but then nudged back. He's doing alright, as long as he mostly looks down. He's got their tickets in one hand—legally purchased, but made out of holomatter paper—but with the other reaches for Soundwave. A handhold would be nice, even a squishy one.

The line is diverging into two streams. Prowl looks up, sees one says "bags" and one "no bags," and moves them into the "no bags" line before looking back down. Just a metal detector, and a turnstile, and then they'll be in. No problem. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:06 pm Soundwave's more than happy to deliver that handhold, though it takes him two quick tries to get his hand lined up right. It's the pinky finger that's throwing him off. He only has a fourth finger when the deployers are docked, and seeing as they aren't right now, it's sort of awkward.

He watches people separate based on what they're carrying - strange, but not altogether unfamiliar; there were subspace scanners at many of Harmonex's higher-class venues to make sure nobody had brought in loose weapons and the like - and gets so distracted by the wide variety of backpacks, bags, purses, and other containers he forgets to keep moving until someone barks a cranky order at him.

Already marking the human's face down in his files with the intent of delivering some minor retribution after the game, Soundwave moves forward and - and what is THAT? Is that a metal detector!? How did they know to watch for Cybertronians? Where's Prowl? Did he--?

Oh. On the other side. Because holoavatars. That ItsyBitsySpyers 7:08 pm look like humans. Right. Okay.

He walks through with his head held high, silently daring the thing to go off, and has little time to celebrate its failure to identify him as an alien before bumping into a collection of metal rods with his midsection.

Scowling - not that one can see it behind the 3/4ths mask on his face - he turns to see what other humans are doing and notices them pushing the rods into a kind of spin as they walk through.

All right. Whatever this ritual is looks harmless enough. He'll get it right and come out the other side dusting himself off.

[[He is approved for attendance.]] VProwl 7:11 pm If it helps Soundwave feel better, Prowl didn't get through the turnstile any more gracefully than Soundwave.

A nod of acknowledgment to Soundwave's statement. And they're in! ... Late. He can already hear the announcements. Damn. Security took much longer than he expected. He finds a radio stream to listen in on, comms the link to Soundwave, and looks around for the promised magnets.

There—someone with a bag full of them is handing them out. He snatches two, consults his internal map of the stadium, and heads down the hallway toward their section. Come on hurry, they've missed six—seven whole pitches. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:16 pm Soundwave's only been human once before, and there was a lot more sensory data to go on at the time. He stumble-rushes after Prowl to the magnets, trying not to get too close, and toward their seats, tatters flapping a little, not any help whatsoever because he doesn't know how to determine where to sit.

At least he can hear what's going on while Prowl looks. Thank you, radio stream.

Are they close? Tell him they're close. He can smell the sweat and ooze of the humans all around him and it's disgusting. If he can get into the open air, that'll help. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:18 pm [[What is on the Dee Ell?]] VProwl 7:18 pm They're close. Here's their section—see, it says 131 over the doorway—and outside they go—

Prowl stops dead.

There are so many humans in this stadium.

There's. There's so many. And they're all wiggling.

Prowl's processor fritzes out. It takes him a moment before he can shake himself out of it, bow his head, lower his baseball cap, and power through to their row and seats. Here. Here we are. Wow. There are—there are so many humans here. "Disabled list. It means they're too injured to play and are currently in the process of healing." ItsyBitsySpyers 7:20 pm Soundwave nods, trying to get past everyone's legs with as little physical contact as possible - thank you for being a barrier, dress - and gets himself as comfortable as he can.

Here's a hand, and now he's watching. VProwl 7:21 pm Prowl takes the hand; and with the other, fiddles with his baseball cap, trying to figure out how to adjust it so that he can look at the field but block out the humans on the far side of the stadium. There. Okay. Only a few hundred moving things, this way. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:24 pm [[What are the audience rules? Do we need to do anything?]] ItsyBitsySpyers 7:25 pm Oh! Pirates!

...They're less scraggly and peg-leg-y than Earth media has led him to expect. VProwl 7:26 pm "There are often chanting and clapping rituals at these games, led by prompts on the big screens." He points at the two theater-sized screens over the left and right field seats. "I don't know the words, but they tend to repeat. If one starts, listen for the first cycle, join in on the second cycle, and stop when the h—rest of the audience stops." VProwl 7:27 pm "Otherwise, standard audience protocol applies. No jumping onto the field with the professionals, no throwing objects, et cetera." "... If a ball comes into the stands, we're allowed to keep it." ItsyBitsySpyers 7:28 pm Ohhh, chanting. He wonders if the humans are capable of making the stadium tremble, like the crystals did. Obviously the building won't sing, but...

[[...Isn't that theft?]] VProwl 7:30 pm "It's not theft because the players give permission. They keep a stock of spare balls so that they can afford to lose many and still have a surpl—" Leans forward. That ball ALMOST came into the stands. "... Like that. If that one had been a little higher and gone into the audience, whoever caught it could take it home." ItsyBitsySpyers 7:31 pm Soundwave watches Prowl lean and nods again. Something to try to do, if it happens. Though Prowl might catch it first, being that he calculates trajectories much, much faster.

[[He sees. Thank you.]] VProwl 7:32 pm What's going on, Lester. One player's already on base and you walk another? Tsk. "Mhm." ItsyBitsySpyers 7:33 pm [[Oh!]] Polite clap. [[Most impressive, fleshling.]] VProwl 7:33 pm He sighs before the home run has even landed, he can tell where it's going. Shouldn't have walked that last guy, Lester. VProwl 7:34 pm At Soundwave's reaction, though, he suppresses a laugh. "It is impressive, yes—but that's the visiting team. It's—not common to applaud for the visiting team. Unless the visiting team is your preferred one and you've shown up to show allegiance to them." ItsyBitsySpyers 7:35 pm [[But he HAS performed well. Should his victory not be acknowledged?]] VProwl 7:36 pm "Baseball is very factional. Most commonly, fans choose a team and root for their success—and root for their opponents' losses. A good performance by the enemy team is perceived as a blow to your preferred team." "You're right, he did perform well—but by performing well he put the Pirates three runs ahead of the Cubs. And this is a stadium full of Cubs fans." VProwl 7:41 pm (Meanwhile, the unusually astute man behind Prowl is wondering who the woman in front of him is talking to. The person she came with, the one in the tattered dress, isn't replying. She doesn't seem to have a headset in, so it's not a phone call. What's going on here.) ItsyBitsySpyers 7:42 pm Oh. So not unlike the sports games on Cybertron, then. Importance on the level of a miniature war. Which probably means shouting matches, threats, and brawls between audience members.

He glances around to see if anyone's aiming anything dangerous at him. Doesn't look like it. Just in case, he'll boom something Worf once shouted through his avatar to convince the other humans he's not on the opposing faction.

"DEATH TO THE OPPOSITION!" [[Is that better?]] VProwl 7:43 pm (The unusually astute man behind Prowl starts at the shout, and spills his beer in his lap.) VProwl 7:44 pm "That's a bit more in the spirit of it, yes. Although death threats are a bit extreme for most hu—local sporting events." ItsyBitsySpyers 7:45 pm [[...Mild pain?]] It doesn't have the same ring to it. VProwl 7:45 pm "From what I've seen, they typically wish unpleasant sexual encounters on their enemies." Well, the Cubs have a chance to catch up now. That's something. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:46 pm He leans back in disgust. Who would wish that kind of thing?

[[He injured the batter--? Is he to be on the Dee Ell now?]] VProwl 7:47 pm "No, it's not a severe enough injury for that. If a batter is struck with a ball but not injured, they get to proceed to first base for free." ItsyBitsySpyers 7:47 pm [[They pay for the bases they go to?]] VProwl 7:47 pm FIST PUMP. First run. All right. Probably an error. "... 'For free' in the sense that they didn't have to earn it through hitting the ball." ItsyBitsySpyers 7:49 pm [[Oh. Of course.]] Someone feels dumb now. [[What happens if a different player is injured? Are more bases given for free? What if it is an enemy player?]] VProwl 7:50 pm "If they injure their own teammate, they just have to deal with it— YES!" ItsyBitsySpyers 7:50 pm NOW he claps. And chuckles softly. Dancing. VProwl 7:51 pm ((oh my god those dances are killing me)) VProwl 7:52 pm "Oh! Yes, look." Points. "You saw that ball go foul, into the stands? The audience gets to keep it. Notice it didn't get thrown back." ItsyBitsySpyers 7:55 pm [[He has another qu--]] ...Someone is staring at him. He can sense it. He twists one way and then the other, trying to identify the human responsible, and settles on the one with the wet lap.

Ugh. Couldn't they have waited until they were somewhere else to do their leaking?

Still, they ARE staring, in the way that usually means someone is trying to work something out. And it occurs to Soundwave, roughly an hour into this date, that he has only said one thing out loud the whole time.

"...Question," the avatar grinds out (not in his voice) as he turns back to face the field. "Why swing high? Low flights: difficult catches." "Yes. Foul ball: seen." ItsyBitsySpyers 7:55 pm That one's closer to them, but not close enough. He hopes one will come their way. VProwl 7:58 pm Oh, speaking out loud, now? "You mean to make the ball go high? It's easier to catch a pop fly—IF it lands inside the field—but, if the ball doesn't go as far and lands in the infield, it's much easier to throw the ball to first and get the batter out that way. But sometimes they do hit them low, depending on what tactics they're going for. If they think it will be unexpected, or if the team on defense is expecting a long shot and has drifted back from their usual position." VProwl 8:02 pm (The unusually astute man with a soggy lap has concluded that the reason he couldn't hear anything out of the person in the dress earlier is because she was speaking too low to be heard. And no wonder. Well, he supposes he's happy for her that she's got the courage to speak up now. Can't be easy with a voice like that.) ItsyBitsySpyers 8:05 pm "More strategy than expected, this."

He sits up. Did the Cub humans get both of the people running for bases out? It looked like it to him, but he can't be sure, as he doesn't know the rules as well.

"Two?" VProwl 8:06 pm "It's all about strategy. ... Strategy and athleticism. Mainly strategy." Mainly to Prowl, anyway. "Two—out at once? Yes. It's called a double play." ItsyBitsySpyers 8:09 pm "Strategies planned before game?"

If Prowl were playing, he could see there being meetings involving precisely how fast to throw, how, and where, with specialized information on each player. Humans were a little less skilled. And by a little, he means a whole fragging lot.

"What term, two bases acquired?" ItsyBitsySpyers 8:10 pm He shakes his head. A little more and the enemy would not have caught that. VProwl 8:12 pm "Yes—they might choose who's playing in what positions based on what they know about their opponent's strengths and weaknesses—what kind of balls they swing at, what kind of throws this pitcher uses—even whether a human prefers to use his left or right hand features in a team's strategies. Of course, the actual tactics will evolve in real time as the game plays," Prowl says. "Two bases is a double." ItsyBitsySpyers 8:13 pm ...Huh. Maybe he isn't giving the players' leading tactician enough credit. They're still no Prowl, but that's better than he expected to hear. VProwl 8:17 pm (The unusually astute man has just about convinced himself that the women in front of him are a couple of lesbians, and that the one in the pants is teaching the one in the dress about the game. He's got a cousin who's a lesbian, usually one of them knows the guy stuff, right? right. definitely. And then she says "human" and he's got no idea what to think anymore.) Prowl points. "That's why you don't want to hit low. It's much easier to scoop up and throw to a base." VProwl 8:19 pm While the players are switching for the next inning, Prowl takes the opportunity to admire his magnets. Wow. Look at them. With schedules and everything. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:20 pm Soundwave tries to peek without getting much closer. Even through the avatar, he dislikes the idea of being near them. Never know what they might do to him.

"One home, one glove c... pocket?" VProwl 8:22 pm "... Glove pocket?" A puzzled look, before he figures out what Soundwave meant. "Oh! No, I keep them in my..." He pats his lower leg and tries to think of the appropriate human equivalent. "... Ssssock." (The unusually astute man leaves to get another beer. Or two.) ItsyBitsySpyers 8:25 pm Ah, yes. He's pretty sure he's seen Prowl take magnets out of that general area before. How much room is there in his, uh. Sock? Are the magnets just crammed back to back in there? He'll have to have Prowl show him some time. When he can see Prowl in person and not just by avatar.

Soundwave hears the man moving about behind them and waits until he's gone to whisper.

"Where going, human behind Prowl?" Who or what is Nuveen and why do they have their name on a huge display, he wonders. VProwl 8:28 pm "Probably to get food. It's common, but not necessary, to eat at baseball games. Traditional foods include peanuts and cracker jacks. On special occasions they sell hot dogs for a dollar." Prowl wouldn't know about the name on the huge display, he's got his hat positioned so he can't see the opposite stands, much less the displays. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:29 pm Fun fact: Most humans can't make a mask look horrified. Soundwave is a pro with some eight to twelve million years of experience under his belt, though, so he makes it work. (It's mostly body language.)

"DOGS?" VProwl 8:31 pm "Er—yes. They're ground up into tube form and served on grain buns." Prowl looks around, spots someone a couple of rows ahead biting into one, and points. "Like that." ItsyBitsySpyers 8:33 pm "But dogs: pets..."

Soundwave follows Prowl's pointing hand oh so slowly, not at all ready to see... something. A tube of meat and blood and clumps of fur, maybe.

It doesn't look as horrible as all that, but he still can't believe it. A dog tube. He's only too happy to be distracted by the broken bat piece that's gone flying. VProwl 8:34 pm "They're apparently both pets and prey. Or maybe the pet breeds are different from the prey breeds." ItsyBitsySpyers 8:35 pm "Request: Do not inform Ravage." VProwl 8:36 pm A puzzled glance, but Prowl nods. "Sure." He wonders if Ravage would be disgusted, or overly delighted. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:36 pm Knowing Ravage? He'd borrow money from Soundwave and go into hot dog manufacturing with a holoform of his own. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:38 pm Boo, enemy faction playing again. At least the Cub humans are staying ahead. Only by one point, but one point is one point. Quiet huffing. The human didn't even check to see whether or not the hit was valid before running off. VProwl 8:39 pm A side glance. "Hm?" ItsyBitsySpyers 8:40 pm "Bad... bunt. Small movement. Running anyway." VProwl 8:40 pm (The unusually astute man returns. He's got a beer and two hot dogs.) "Oh. Yes. Generally the batter runs as soon as he knows he's hit the ball because the time he would waste checking to see if it's good might prevent him from reaching first base safely." VProwl 8:42 pm He leans forward, frowning. He's worried about that runner on— Oh, and that's exactly what he was worried about. Tsk. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:43 pm Soundwave immediately turns to see if it is the same human coming back as the one who left. He's not disappointed. Not by that, anyway.

He looks from the man's face to the hot dogs and back up, then shakes his head. "/Shameful,/" he declares. "No apparent value, label: 'man's best friend'."

Back to the game. "What missed?" VProwl 8:45 pm He stares at the woman in the dress, jaw dropped, until she turns away. ... What? ItsyBitsySpyers 8:46 pm Groups of 15 or more? Hmm. How many are they, between them? Five constructicons, Prowl, himself, seven deployers... damn. That's fourteen. VProwl 8:47 pm Prowl nudges Soundwave. "Don't shame them for their culture. If they want to eat dogs, that's their prerogative." He turns back to the man. "Sorry. We, uh—don't eat dogs in our country." And turns back to the game. VProwl 8:48 pm (He continues standing there, jaw still dropped. What??) ItsyBitsySpyers 8:51 pm Soundwave accepts the nudge but folds his arms. He still can't believe it and he won't apologize himself. That kind of thing is exactly why he has difficulty trusting mechs who want him to be their 'friend'. At least Prowl isn't like that.

"How many, in-ings? This, evening now."

He jerks his chin toward the sky. It's dark. How late do they mean to keep playing? ItsyBitsySpyers 8:52 pm And is promptly socked in the face by the ball flying into the crowd.

In his defense, he tried to catch it. He just... forgot he didn't have feelers in this shape. VProwl 8:53 pm "Nine innings total, unless they end the ninth inning with a tie. Then, they keep playing until they finish an inning with the tie broken. We're in the bot—" SCRAP. "I'm so sorry! I wasn't looking at the field, I didn't see it coming—are you all right?" VProwl 8:54 pm That's what he gets for looking away for a second. ItsyBitsySpyers 8:56 pm Yes, he's fine. He's fine. There's a fat crack running up the cheek of the mask, and he's just sort of got his head tilted back and resting on the back of the chair, quietly staring at the sky, but he's fine. It's just an avatar.

...He slowly picks the ball off his lap and hands it over without moving or saying anything else. VProwl 8:57 pm He gently takes the ball. And then gently pets Soundwave's head. "Can you still move?" ItsyBitsySpyers 8:58 pm "Affirmative." He'd just like not to, for a moment. Y'know, lest he take the ball back and hurl it at the batter with deadly force. Which he's pretty sure Prowl wouldn't want. "Who, batter now?" VProwl 8:59 pm Oh, they already switched pitchers. That's... early. "Uh..." He squints. "... Brault. He's got a .400 average." ItsyBitsySpyers 9:00 pm Good. The Brault human isn't the one who needs finding and injuring. "Meaning?" VProwl 9:00 pm "Well. He doesn't anymore." VProwl 9:03 pm "Meaning that this season, so far, he gets a hit forty percent of the times he comes to bat. Total hits divided by total at bats. One of numerous commonly-tracked statistics. An average batting average is .255. A .500 is considered spectacular but is usually a function of good luck." ".400 is very good, but it was derived from the only five at bats he's had this season, so it's too small a sample size to be truly representative." "Now he's .333." ItsyBitsySpyers 9:07 pm Okay. Okay, he'll sit up now. Move his jaw around a little beneath its cover. There's clapping, and he wants in on-- aw. It's over.

".255: small percent. That, sad. Prowl: better." Just in time to see that hilarious little twist-up of legs. Another huff. VProwl 9:07 pm (The unusually astute man has been staring dolefully at his hot dogs for over an inning.) ItsyBitsySpyers 9:08 pm Good. Be guilty. Friend-eater. Ah, nicely done. VProwl 9:09 pm "Twenty five point five percent? Getting a hit one every four at bats? No, that's very good. I have an unusual advantage, but even I don't know if I'd have the reflexes to achieve that in actual game conditions." ItsyBitsySpyers 9:11 pm "Why not test?" He motions to the avatar. It's a human, isn't it? Surely they could find a way to get it into a game. VProwl 9:12 pm A look at Soundwave, and then back at the field. (He's learned not to look away too long, it's perilous.) "Why? No. Why, though?" ItsyBitsySpyers 9:13 pm Soundwave throws an arm over his face as soon as he sees the ball heading loosely in that direction, just in case. It's unnecessary, this time.

"Prowl doesn't know." Shrug. Drops his arm and nods at the good hit. A double, as Prowl called it. "Test provides answer." VProwl 9:13 pm "YES! ... Sorry." ItsyBitsySpyers 9:14 pm "Apology: unnecessary. Good play." VProwl 9:14 pm "It was." And a two point lead! How nice. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:14 pm Swaying a little to the music. VProwl 9:15 pm ... He's making it hard to want to watch the game instead of him. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:16 pm If it helps, the music's stopped now, and so has he. VProwl 9:17 pm (Despite his harrowing experience, the unusually astute man has worked up the nerve to eat his hot dogs.) ItsyBitsySpyers 9:17 pm And a sudden startle.

"Why booing?" Soundwave hears eating. He turns to give the unusually astute man another quick stare before looking back at the crack of a ball being hit. VProwl 9:18 pm "If the audience disagrees with the umpire, they often boo." "HA!" This is a good inning. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:20 pm Well, now they have good reason to cheer instead. Twice the points! Whatever prize awaits the victor of these games will have to be a good one, if they can keep that up. ...That's a good question, actually.

"What prize, winning? Trophy? Currency?" ItsyBitsySpyers 9:22 pm "...Losers not terminated, correct...?" ItsyBitsySpyers 9:22 pm After the things the little baseball robots have told them, he's a little concerned. VProwl 9:28 pm "No, no. Nobody's terminated. I don't know that there's any particular reward for winning an individual game, though. Each team plays 162 games per season. The teams that win the most games enter an end-of-season tournament, and the winners of that tournament are recognized as the overall winners of that year. I don't know if there's any reward for being the winners other than the fame. There might be a trophy." ItsyBitsySpyers 9:28 pm !!! SINGING. VProwl 9:29 pm He pings Soundwave the lyrics. He knows this one. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:29 pm BIG APPLAUSE. VProwl 9:30 pm "They sing that at every baseball game in the middle of the seventh inning." ItsyBitsySpyers 9:30 pm "...Every game? All teams?" He's totally distracted from this talk of tournaments and possible trophies. VProwl 9:31 pm "Every game, all teams. They sing America's theme song before the first pitch, too, but we got here too late for that." ItsyBitsySpyers 9:33 pm He missed a group sing? Unacceptable. He can miss a few pitches, but missing that many people sharing music? Awful.

"Next time, faster driving, walking."

...Oh, right. What were they talking about before that?

"End-of-season tournament - that, watched before, correct? These humans: winners." VProwl 9:33 pm (The unusually astute man hears "America's theme song" and chokes on his beer.) "It should be less difficult to get through the gates at future games. This is the first home game of the season, that draws a larger crowd." Prowl nods. "Yes. Last year. The Cubs won. It was a fantastic game—and the first time they'd won the tournament in over a century." ItsyBitsySpyers 9:35 pm Automatically, because he's accustomed to Frenzy hastily chugging his energon and choking on it like every other day: "Suggestion: Drink slower."

"Soundwave recalls. Enjoyable time. This, too." VProwl 9:36 pm (Why is she listening to me, wonders the man who's been listening to her.) ItsyBitsySpyers 9:37 pm Bobbing to the whooping and pointing out of where objects are. It's hard not to do a little dancing in his chair when good hits happen and bits of songs are playing. VProwl 9:37 pm (And why has she said the names "Prowl" and "Soundwave," wonders this very astute man.) ItsyBitsySpyers 9:37 pm (Primarily because nobody told her - him - whatever, to think of a human name.) VProwl 9:38 pm "You like it, then?" Well—there was certainly visual evidence of that. The bobbing and dancing and all. But still. Confirmation! VProwl 9:40 pm "... When did they make four more runs?" He really has been paying more attention to Soundwave than the game. Oops. ItsyBitsySpyers 9:42 pm "Multiple doubles, good hits" he says, pointing at the field. He sends Prowl a quick summary of the last several... what are they called? Turns? Rounds? Throws? Never mind. They've been doing well, is the point. "And, affirmative. Exciting without bloodshed." "Another!" He wants to see someone take three, though. Can they do that? VProwl 9:44 pm "Oh, thank you." And Soundwave's paying more attention than him. Heh. "Yes—that's why I like it. It's, it's all—math and tactics and competition. There's so much strategy inside it. Strategy and statistics, that's all the game is. But, if you miscalculate—nobody dies for it." (The unusually astute man quietly picks himself and his beer up and shuffles out of his seat. He's gonna go make a call.) ItsyBitsySpyers 9:46 pm He's SO entranced, in fact, that he hasn't even noticed quite how cold it's gotten. Granted, his avatar isn't as sensitive as Prowl's is post-patch, but that's usually the kind of thing he pays attention to.

"Prowl knows games: ping-pong, tennis? These, also trajectory, hitting."

...Now where's he off to, that fleshling? More dog eating? VProwl 9:48 pm Prowl quietly shut off his thermal sensors sometime around the second inning. "I know them, yes. But they're far less complex. Less players, less numbers to analyze." ItsyBitsySpyers 9:49 pm Ohh. So not enough to entertain with.

"What else liked, then?" Hah. That human didn't even get to stand on the first base. VProwl 9:51 pm "Among e—local sports? Just baseball. But I don't know them all." ItsyBitsySpyers 9:53 pm "Call Eject, if alive. That, own main reference source."

Damn. They got a point. VProwl 9:54 pm "Maybe. I crossed paths with him a couple of years ago." VProwl 9:55 pm (The unusually astute man shuffles back to his seat. He'd called the police to report that he'd seen a couple of Transformers. At the Cubs game. Lesbian Transformers. In disguise. As humans. The police dispatcher told him to enjoy his game and find a designated driver.) VProwl 10:00 pm He saw that one! He's paying attention to the game again. Huffs. And the batter comes back out just to be cheered at again. Charming. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:01 pm He deserves it. VProwl 10:03 pm "... I didn't— I mean— I expected you'd... enjoy it on my behalf, but not... /enjoy/-enjoy it. What do you like about it?" The seventh inning stretch, obviously, but other than that. VProwl 10:06 pm "Oh—the game is probably going to be over after this half inning, by the way." ItsyBitsySpyers 10:08 pm "Prowl's, crowd's excitement: infectious. Strength displays - there, broken bat. Music. Humans running, chasing, catching, sliding - these, interesting activity choices. Safe athleticism, no death. Also amusing." "...Cub humans not allowed other half? How known, true point total?" VProwl 10:09 pm And that's the end of the game. Prowl stays in his seat, but many humans start to get up. "Oh—and they have a winning song." As Soundwave can hear. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:10 pm He's recording it. And listening to the human being interviewed. He formed a conjunx contract? How pleasant for the fleshling. VProwl 10:11 pm "The true point total isn't as important to them as just knowing who's going to win. If the team in the bottom half of the inning is leading, then there's no reason to play the bottom of the ninth, because no matter what they're still going to win." ItsyBitsySpyers 10:12 pm Irritated huff. "Data still incomplete." But he supposed he could understand why people who didn't focus as much on that wouldn't care. "What now?" VProwl 10:16 pm "Incomplete, yes—but at that point, the data from the bottom of the ninth would be useless anyway. The pitcher wouldn't work as hard because he'd know that nothing he did could change the end of the game, so he might as well throw easy pitches in order to save his arm strength for future games. The batters would slack off for the same reason. There's no strategic benefit to putting real effort into the bottom of the ninth when the game is already decided, so it would be impractical to make the players play and then judge them in any way based on that performance. It would only skew the statistics by throwing in junk data."

He looks around the stadium, then quickly back down. "... Let's wait for it to clear out a little. So we don't have to go through as large a crowd." ItsyBitsySpyers 10:19 pm Now that was a better argument, and one he could accept, if after a few seconds' thought.

"Acceptable. Reasoning, request both."

He scoots down in his seat, intrigued by the feeling of a flat surface on a flat back, and picks at the beading on his dress again. Why the holomatter generator insisted on giving him this fancy mess of a clothing item instead of something more practical, he'll never know. He didn't even go this ornate at the gala.

...Can he have Prowl's hand? With the one not busy pulling off decorations that fizzle out as soon as he 'drops' them, that is. VProwl 10:21 pm He can absolutely have Prowl's hand. Prowl's not doing anything with it.

He lowers his voice. "Careful, someone might notice." (Luckily for them, the unusually astute man has already joined the shuffle heading home.) ItsyBitsySpyers 10:26 pm "Date: pleasant. Gratitude given." He'll take it and - well, he doesn't have lips. That's why he had to program a mask in. He'll bump the hand against the mask's lips, and that'll be close enough for now.

And then he'll look over for a second before looking back at his holoform. Oh, right. "Apologies." Soundwave will just. Sit on his hand. Which is odd for him, without deployers attached. "Question: If this, repeated, perhaps suitable modifications: human fuel? Many surrounding eat, drink." Pause. "NOT dogs." VProwl 10:29 pm "Thank you for coming. I enjoyed it." He takes the opportunity to brush the back of his fingers against Soundwave's—well. "Cheek." Masked cheek.

"Do you mean holomatter fuel? Or modifications that would allow us to eat? I don't particularly feel the need to, but—if you want to, we could find a way." ItsyBitsySpyers 10:34 pm Soundwave leans into the brush while it's there, sighing. It's nice to be able to do things like this without worrying if Smokescreen or Starscream or Pipes or... he doesn't know. Confektor, or somebody like that, can see them at it. Not counting the unusually astute but now absent man with the soggy lap and the hot dogs of guilt, that is.

"Holomatter fuel. Real human fuel: unappetizing." VProwl 10:35 pm "So we're going to be Odo?" A half smile. "I don't know how the current holomatter animation tools handle liquids, I've never looked into it. It should be possible to make foods, at least." ItsyBitsySpyers 10:40 pm "Prowl only." He pulls the other hand out from under his leg to hover a pointing finger just over the general area of where the police decal would be. "Soundwave not officer. Damar, perhaps. Less high grade."

"...Before then, face problem: fixed. Promised." Can't convincingly eat food when you don't have a mouth or mobile parts to eat it with. "Next question: Return rental car trip required? Parking garage coordinate message not possible?"

Somewhat guilty head duck. It's still sort of awkward, Prowl, he's sorry. VProwl 10:42 pm "... Well. I guess if we just abandon it there and send them a cryptic ransom letter-like message telling them where to pick it up, they could hardly stop us, could they?" To be fair, trying to figure out exactly how much pressure to put on the petal to get it to travel at the correct speed without jerking had been... a trial. He wouldn't mind not doing that again. ItsyBitsySpyers 10:45 pm "...That, agreement?" He couldn't tell if Prowl was just asking or if that was his way of saying he wouldn't mind going along with the plan. Just in case: "New alias, next time."

"...What alias, this time?"

NOW he thinks about the fact that he doesn't have a name picked out for this human shape of his. It's a little late. Somewhere, a beer-soaked man probably knows exactly who he is.

That's going to be awkward if his alternate ever hears about it. VProwl 10:50 pm "Oh, why not. We can find somewhere without security cameras to bridge the holomatter generator out."

He has to think a bit to pull up the file with his alias. "... Eileen A. Rodriguez. 872 Rivendell Drive, Akron, Ohio, 44313. I used a random generator to produce the information." ItsyBitsySpyers 10:56 pm Prowl, actually breaking social rules and an established contract? And here he thought tonight couldn't get any more enjoyable.

"Farewell, Eileen. Rental location: final known paperwork appearance." If he'd had his visor on, he might have added an image of a random gravestone for humor's sake. As it was, all he could do was examine their surroundings to see how empty the place had gotten. "Quieter now. Come. We go, bridge home. There, trajectory calculations shared?" ItsyBitsySpyers 10:57 pm He wanted to let Prowl show off a little. Maybe talk about the really exciting ones, the pitches that went badly or balls that connected but didn't fly where the players hoped. VProwl 10:59 pm "Let's walk back to the car, I've got to leave the keys with it." He might not be following the expected contract but he's going to pay his fine and he's not going to make the job hard for whoever comes to pick up the car. "And then yes. Let's head home. I'll show you a bit of the game from my perspective." ItsyBitsySpyers 11:04 pm Oh well. Can't bend a lawmech /too/ far without completely breaking them. Key depositing it is.

"That, acceptable. ... If walk not too long." He's noticed how cold it is now, by the way. "Cities: different, this height. Also, overheard: Chicago city contains enormous preserved legume. Perhaps that, near here?"

After a few light claps to show his satisfaction with the plan, he stands and offers a hand up. C'mon. Time to get off this freezing mudball and into a nice, toasty apartment. VProwl 11:06 pm "I haven't heard about the legume. If you want to track it down, we can?"

He takes the hand. All right. Time to go home. ItsyBitsySpyers 11:07 pm "...When warmer."

And off they go.

[erosanova-blog]

The Magic Hour

Warning: Explicit Language. Mostly nonsense.

I want the reader to know that I am not under the influence of drugs or alcohol, merely lost in a lack of sleep. Ahhh the painful insomniac. Didn't I wake up at 4 yesterday...? Wait was that today..? I haven't slept who knows? But what else is a man to do on a Saturday night?

2:58 a.m. This is where the magic happens. The lonely writer types, chewing on a minty flosspick while the African Dwarf Frogs(Hymenochirus curtipes) echo in the background, undoubtedly heckling each other and their tank mates, the ghost shrimp(Paleomonetes sp.). Why am I still awake? Is it a result of an obsession with social media? Perhaps, my thumbs have been rather sore as of late. But let's get down to the real nitty-gritty; why not we're all mostly insane friends here right? Shit I just hit the number lock. At this time of night, you really have to wonder what an esoteric button like that even does.

Oh the lucidity. Shhh quiet Frog and Toad! Yes I named them. Why not? The ghost shrimp are Casper and Glassy wtf do you want me to do about it? Glass Shrimp is synonymous with Ghost Shrimp as far as common names go. At this hour, you have to wonder if I really have to capitalize a common name. And I say yes, they are my fuckin' pets bro, they're important to me. But enough of that nonsense. Back to the nitty-gritty, as aforementioned.

The real reason why I'm probably awake is I tend to think too much. That's what got me into this mess. That's what gets me into a lot of messes. I pity the simpleton that can go through life complacent and detached. I'm not saying I'm a damn genius, far from it, but I think constantly. My mind comes up with (sometimes a bit on the... creative side) the depths of unfathomable consequences and possibilities... permutations if you will. I'm not a psychic, I just tend to think ahead. Thinking ahead is like driving too fast on a mountain pass: you can't always accurately predict what's on the road ahead. Wow what a life lesson. HA!

3:20 a.m. It's cold in this basement apartment. I have the heater on economy mode... meaning it works half the time. It's like buying juice and you think you're getting a fucking deal and then it's 17% juice. Thanks for the overpriced water assholes.

Do you see now? Have you begun to understand the nonsensical bullshit I can come up with at this hour? I MISSPELLED TOO BACK THERE! Can you believe that? Luckily I caught it but... whew.. close one. Fuck. (shh that definitely wasn't a sentence fragment and those little red lines under my fucking shh back there (and apparently right there), those obviously don't exist(imaginary, like the tooth fairy or... another... fairy (Easter bunny maybe? Think about that, a fucking rabbit that shits chocolate eggs. What if it switches over from chocolate to regular and you don't know it and then one day... ohhh nooo... wait am I really doing this? Longest paragraph in multiple-parentheses ever!) so don't get too carried away bro... can I call you bro?)-By the way I learned how to do all those parentheses correctly thanks to Calculus... Thanks CSU... Thanks Newton... Leibniz..

Well instead of insulting deceased mathematical theorists I should get down to the real nitty-gritty. Regret. Sometimes all this excess thinking makes me say things to people I care about, perhaps accusations, that are sometimes ridiculous. The problem with opening Pandora's box is once it's open, everything is unleashed.

Humpty dumpty in real life? Fuckin dead. A fuckin omelet bro. Its true google it. I may be lying. Alright my eyelids have begun a slow shutter speed so I should probably get to bed but I have a few final notes for the reader, if anyone is actually reading this. This may get preachy so if you want to start sending me hate mail... just shut the hell up I'm not trying to influence anybody just speaking my personal opinions, which is protected under the Bill of Rights.

Being in a relationship for money, power or fame is fucked up. Make your own way, pave your own path, and find your passion in life. Be a fucking legend, don't live like a sidekick.

It takes two (or sometimes three... or more... fuck idk people do what you want damn its a free country for the most part) people to make a relationship work. You have to stick together, and be honest. It's the hardest thing to do but it goes the farthest. If you don't want to be with them, tell them... don't break their fucking heart like a mirror on the freeway, be gentle, but be fair.

It is NOT okay to hit a woman. Or drug a woman. Or touch a woman without her permission. Actually you probably shouldn't be doing that shit to anybody, what the fuck is wrong with people? All this talk I hear of the date rape drug being back in circulation... what is this the seventies?! For fuck's sake people... have some respect. Have some fucking morals. Quit living YOLO like nothing fucking matters. IF YOU DRUG A GIRL AND HAVE SEX WITH HER SEMI-CONCIOUS BODY THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES. That's not a threat, it just needs to be said. Yeah you think its funny now, yeah you get off the hook with the law and all big fucking whoop. But guess what? Thirty years down the road, (if you're not still a total piece of shit that lives in a bowling alley and drinks turpentine) you're going to regret it. I hope it eats at you... the best punishment is one's own mind (funny how I came back to that huh? But I generally try to do good :))

Getting married to save your relationship won't save you're relationship. It will subject you to a mass amount of turmoil, paperwork, bullshit and red tape. If you get married, make sure it is the one that gives you a look that's a combination of digesting you with their eyes (in a good way, not a Jack-the-Ripper-hooker way. A feeling like you're almost tempted to rip their clothes off right then and there-with consent! see above!) and a look that says they want to spend their life in your arms. A look like them tearing up at the thought of you leaving... almost at the brink, the cusp, but too strong to let the tears flow... maybe a quivering lip).

Respect your parents, at the very least, respect your mother. You realize what giving birth is like right? I don't give a damn if it's a C-section or natural or fucking water birth you were once a baby coming out of her. Ouch. Respect that. There are circumstances in which a parental figure abuses a child. ALSO NOT OKAY! Yeah I was spanked as a child, and yeah, most of the time I deserved it. But my mom never raised a fist to me... She never brought out the belt (though she had this wicked paddle that somehow disappeared in a mysterious driveway fire...) out and she always encouraged me to find happiness.

Find happiness, find your passion. Am I rambling again? What is this a Sunday sermon? Holy shit its Sunday... that's blasphemous... no offense everybody religious! Fuck. Walking on eggshells around here. Find your happiness, find your passion and quit taking offense to everything Americans, you're making us look bad. Shit man we're the whiners of the world, and we're going downhill because of it. Instead of complaining about the piece of trash on the ground reach down and pick that fucker up! (I think that's from an old commercial).

I don't care who you are, sex, race, religion, gender, sexual preference etc etc etc etc etc... respect your country. I didn't say you have to agree with your leaders, I'm not stating my political preference because I'm not a fucking whiny baby that doesn't stand up for the Pledge of Allegiance. I stand up because my grandpa, for which I have a deep respect, fought in the Korean War. He fought for our country. This gentle man, who taught me how to care for animals of all different kinds (not specifically just how to approach, etc) killed people. You think he knows why he killed them? Probably something they amped him up on at the time, but regardless, he had a red right hand for his country. So you can sit in your Mercedes with your Starbucks and play your PS4 (I love Mercedes and Starbucks. I have no preference for video games) on a bright sunny day in summertime without being murdered or raped.

3:59 a.m. Last one for tonight... wrote way more than I should've anyways, and probably enough to piss some people off if they ever read it.

If you find that person with that glimmer in their eye when they see you... and you feel it too... don't let it go.

_______________________________________________________________________________

I had to add these quotes today, 4/23/17 at 4:15 p.m because I can't stop thinking about it, ..., last night...

"I wanna die where the sun sets, where there's no rain clouds... floating beneath my wings... floating beneath my wings. And if I had one reason... to stay right here... it would be all for you... it would be all for you.

...

And on the other hand, if I woulda stayed, maybe we could fix it all, maybe it would change. Or maybe not, or maybe not today but if we both want it bad baby there's a way. I say we should have no worries, we could be together now, no hurry. You ain't gotta quit, I ain't gotta leave. We could move slow, baby, we ain't gotta speed. I'm not quittin'... never ever, I... pinky promise. If your hand gets cold then I put a ring up on it. I... cook you noodles when your tummy don't feel right... that's how I kill nights... because it feels right... yeah... because it feels right... it ain't real love if there ain't real fights... work it out yeah we still might... we ain't perfect... but... this is real life.

... And if I had one reason, to stay right here... it would be all for you, it would be all for you." -"Where the Sun Sets" -Ryan Caraveo

[7-wonders]

Thinking of Sin (re-upload)

Summary: Michael, having fully embraced his title as Antichrist and heir to the throne of Hell, invites you to join him as his father’s church, the Church of Night, celebrates one of their most sacred holidays: Lupercalia, the festival of passion. (a Chilling Adventures of Sabrina au!)

Word Count: 6374

A/N: (re-uploading for the third time, this time on Chrome instead of Safari. I will keep the last upload up, just so you don’t have to reblog if you’ve already done so). 

This is, by far, the longest thing I’ve written for this blog. I’ve been very excited to write this, and I hope that you enjoy this take on Michael Langdon and Lupercalia! Reader is a human in this one, but I’ve got another version in the works where reader is a witch! Feedback is greatly appreciated, and if you liked this, I’d love if you left a like, comment, reblog, or note in my inbox! Enjoy!

Warnings: Sex, Satanism, mentions of Pagan rituals, oral (female receiving), fandom crossovers, blood mentions.

The small, 50’s-style diner is decorated with all varieties of traditional Valentine’s Day symbols: hearts and Cupids and bows and arrows, all in hues ranging from the blushiest of pinks to the deepest of reds. The fluorescent lighting, which normally washes patrons out, only serves to make the man sitting across from you look even more sculpted. He smirks when he catches you staring again, hooking his foot around your calf playfully from under the table.

Although a roadside diner might not be an obvious choice for a date, anything is better than yet another date spent on the grounds of the Hawthorne School, where Michael currently studies magic. The teachers are all extremely strict about their star pupil, which means that Michael usually sneaks you in in order to spend time with you. Today is different, however, with a prelude for some magical holiday warranting an early weekend for the students. While you don’t possess any magical abilities, it’s not at all difficult to skip a couple of classes on a Friday, allowing you a last-minute date with Michael.

“It’s so easy to tell when you’re not listening to me.” Michael teases, long fingers drumming on the table. “If you’re not staring at me, then it’s the far-away look in your eyes.”

“Who can blame me for not being able to focus when I have someone as beautiful as you sitting across from me?” You relish in the light blush that paints his cheeks, Michael obviously not being used to you turning the tables and complimenting him suddenly.

“Anyways, where did you zone out at?”

“Hmm, right after you started explaining why you get an early weekend. Lupus column or something?” Michael snickers, sipping his strawberry milkshake to avoid laughing loudly in the quiet diner.

“Lupercalia.” He corrects.

“Lupercalia, then. What exactly is Lupercalia?”

“Well, it’s an ancient festival, originally started by Roman witches and warlocks. It was instituted as a way to purify Rome and bring about health and fertility. It’s a very sacred holiday for us-”

“Even though you’re not just an average warlock.” You interrupt, winking conspiratorially.

You figured out Michael’s ‘secret’ pretty quickly after you saw Ms. Mead convulsing in the driveway next to yours. Not knowing that she was now a robot and was shorting out, you had assumed the woman was having a heart attack. When Michael had opened the door to your incessant knocking and you had barged in with the unconscious woman, the pentagram and vague smell of sulfur made you a little extremely suspicious. It was the sight of Michael being covered in blood that made you demand for him to tell you what was going on, or else you would call the police and have them investigate.

“Yes, even though I’m not an ‘average warlock,’” he agrees, “it’s still a sacred holiday for the witches and warlocks who worship my father.”

Being the Antichrist guarantees that Michael is treated like a prince at Hawthorne, which is directly ruled by the Church of Night. Michael’s treated like a prince at most of the ‘witchy’ places he takes you to, something that you’re still getting used to.

“I’m guessing it’s not like Valentine’s Day, though?”

“Not exactly. The Church, as you know, directly follows my father’s teachings. These include giving into your wants and desires, especially those of the…carnal nature.”

“The carnal nature? Oh! Ohhh…” Heat quickly rises to your cheeks, avoiding eye contact while Michael chuckles. “So it’s like a sex festival?” Your voice drops at the word ‘sex,’ even though there’s nobody within hearing range.

“Well nobody calls it that, but sort of.”

“What do you, uh, do to celebrate?”

“The festival’s made up of three different events. There’s the Matching, where witches dance with ribbons around what’s basically a Maypole and are paired with a random warlock once the music stops. After that is the Courting, where the couples participate in a ritual to ensure health and wellness. The last event is called the Hunt, where the witches hunt their warlocks. Once caught, they…” Michael’s voice breaks as he grimaces, making your eyes widen as you quickly realize what he means.

“Is this a mandatory holiday? Like, the underage witches and warlocks do it too?”

“No! No, it’s not mandatory, and nobody under the age of sixteen can participate.”

“So…you’ve participated in it before?” Although Michael’s always been deliberately vague on how old he truly is, you know that he’s at least 20, if not older. That means, considering he’s the heir to the throne of Hell, he’s probably been involved in his father’s festivals and holidays. It makes you mildly jealous to imagine him participating in something like this with a pretty, powerful witch.

“I haven’t. Last year was my first at Hawthorne, and I was still just trying to get the hang of being at a new school. I wasn’t sure if I would participate this year, which is why I wanted to ask you.”

“Michael, I’m not your mom. If you want my permission to be a part of Lupercalia, you really don’t need it.” You grumble, snatching a stray french fry from your plate and eating it to avoid showing that this bugs you. Since it’s Michael you’re sitting across from, though, he automatically knows.

“I was going to ask if you’d participate in Lupercalia with me, (Y/N).”

“Oh.” You avert your eyes, embarrassed at how blatantly jealous you got. “I thought you said the pairing-up of the witches and warlocks was random?”

“Leave that to me.” His eyes twinkle, and you just know that he’s going to use some sort of magic to rig the festival if you agree.

“Well, what about the fact that I’m a ‘mortal?’ I thought that the Church didn’t like mortals intermingling with you guys.”

“One, you’re not just a regular mortal, you’re my mortal.” To increase the sentiment, he reaches across the table and grips your hand in his. “And two, I’m not just a regular warlock. They sort of have to let me do what I want.”

“Bullying your teachers into letting you bring your mortal girlfriend to a dirty magical festival? You truly are your father’s son.” You joke.

“You’re stalling.” It’s not a question; you and he both know that you’re stalling. It’s not like you and Michael haven’t had sex before, but encroaching on this sacred festival that’s also extremely intimate makes you feel very hesitant.

“Promise we’ll get paired up?”

“Of course. Does that mean you’ll do it?”

Sighing, you nod. “Yes, I’ll do it.”

You defeatedly sit back in your seat, grabbing your own milkshake and taking a hearty drink while Michael grins. Even though you’re pouting, you can’t deny the tiny butterflies of excitement starting to spring up in your stomach. You’re jumping headfirst into a world that’s dark, supernatural, and a little sexy. Who couldn’t be slightly excited for that?

Night One: The Matching

The Matching, which you assumed would be at Hawthorne, is actually at Hawthorne’s ‘sister school,’ the Academy of Unseen Arts. Michael had easily transmuted both of you to what had first appeared to be an abandoned train depot. Apparently, the old adage of “never judge a book by its’ cover” applies to buildings as well. The moment you stepped foot inside, you were taken aback by the large, gothic-style school. The walls are all a rich red, with a golden railing encircling the second level that overlooks the entryway. A giant statue of what you’re assuming is Satan is pushed to the back, a large Maypole with red, black, and white ribbons taking center stage. Witches and warlocks mill about, all bowing their heads respectfully whenever they pass Michael and speaking in hushed tones while sneaking glances at him.

You cling tightly to Michael, free hand tightly grasping the hem of your black dress that’s accented with white flowers. All of these witches are so dark and beautiful, looking at Michael from under their heavily-painted lids. You can practically feel the power oozing off of them, sending chills down your spine. Michael has a protective arm around your waist, sensing how nervous you are. In an effort to distract yourself while the host school gets everything set up, you glance up towards the ceiling.

The stained glass windows that act as a sun-roof are beautiful, but the longer you look at them, the more you can see the Satanic imagery that makes up a larger story. There’s flames, stakes, the goat-headed figure of Satan, and magic. There’s also a man with bright blue eyes and golden curls, standing amongst one set of flames while someone who looks almost like you (if you’re squinting hard enough, you try to convince yourself) stands at the man’s side. Casting your eyes slightly downwards, the teachers from the various schools and academies stand on the second floor. Michael’s professors were not exactly pleased that he was bringing his mortal girlfriend, but Father Blackwood, the so-called ‘High Priest’ of the Church, was more than welcoming.

“He has to be,” Michael had explained to you, “or else I’ll report back to my father. Blackwood’s on thin-enough ice as it is.”

When Michael stiffens beside you, you look away from the teachers and towards him.

“What’s wrong?” You’ve been with Michael long enough to know that something has to be extremely wrong for him to even have a reaction like this.

“Sabrina Spellman is what’s wrong.” You look in the direction that Michael’s glowering, only to see a small blonde girl chatting with her friends.

“She doesn’t look very threatening.” You tease, hoping to diffuse the situation.

“Sabrina fled her dark baptism and abandoned the Church, while still trying to keep her powers. She fights Satan at every turn and is convinced that she’ll ‘take him down,’ whatever that means.” Michael says lowly, clenching his jaw.

“So, not your friend, got it.” You mutter.

You’re both startled by someone yelling for the men to take their places. A ring of chairs has been placed around the Maypole, backs facing the ribbons. Michael grabs the ribbon attached to the chair closest to him, unlooping it and handing the white fabric to you before he takes a seat. Your hands are still interlocked, and he smiles reassuringly at you while the same person starts giving directions.

“Alright ladies, you know the rules! When the music stops, take a seat on the warlock…or Antichrist…” he stops as everyone giggles, making you look at Michael with panicked eyes, “closest to you.”

“I’ve got it all under control, remember? Enjoy yourself.” He reminds you one last time, rubbing his thumb over the ring on your right index finger; an onyx band with blue and white stones forming starry constellations, given to you by Michael for your birthday.

The music starts up, the violinist playing a folksy tune. Michael grins at you one last time before you start moving in the same direction as the rest of the women. You don’t know this dance, and even if you did, there’s no way you’d look nearly as graceful as everyone else. Still, you try your hardest to copy the moves of the witch next to you, a redhead that has her eyes dead-set on Sabrina Spellman. Michael turns his head to watch you dance, smiling the entire time as you start to get the hang of things. It’s not that long of a song, you realize as the violinist plays one last, long note, and your heart thunders when you see that you’re all the way across the room from Michael.

He can sense your trepidation, winking at you before coughing into the crook of his elbow. The note continues to echo through the room, much to the confusion of the man no longer playing the instrument. The same tone continues to play until you’re right in front of Michael, stopping the moment he coughs again. You nearly fall into his lap, laying your forehead against his gratefully.

“Told you I had it all under control.” You giggle at his cocky statement, relishing in the feeling of his lips on yours.

“I didn’t doubt you for one second.”

“Yeah right, I could practically taste your fear when you thought the last note was being played.”

“Because I didn’t know what you were planning on doing!” You argue playfully, not able to fight the large smile working onto your face.

“Was this as terrible as you thought it would be?” Michael asks, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Considering I ended up with you as my match, I’d say yes.”

“You brat!” Michael’s eyes gleam as he grabs your lower lip between his teeth and pulls, eliciting a squeal from you.

You’re not sure if it’s the sensuality of the festival itself, the intoxication that happens whenever you’re around someone whom you share feelings for, or if there was an actual spell being performed during that dance, but every couple in the room is currently engaged in various levels of PDA. And really, you can’t complain, since your gorgeous Antichrist is right under you.

Night Two: The Courting

Silver light from the near-full moon peeks out between the gnarled tree branches forming a canopy above your head, bathing the group of teens and young adults in a soft light. It’s chilly out, a fog floating low towards the ground the only remaining sign that there was previously rain. You can still smell it, a fresh scent mixed in with the earthy smell that’s so prevalent in a forest. Breathing out through your mouth, you watch as your breath forms visibly in front of you. Michael’s arm is wrapped around your shoulder, the sight of his red leather gloves coupled with his black leather trench coat sending your heart racing. Your overcoat isn’t nearly as nice, but then again you didn’t expect to be making a fashion statement in the middle of the woods.

When Michael had told you that ‘the Courting’ was a ritual for health and wellness, you didn’t envision it taking place in a dark forest. That’s really your own fault, though, since nothing can ever just be normal when it comes to witches and warlocks (and a stray Antichrist).

“Witches, warlocks, Antichrist, and mortal,” the same man who played the violin at the Matching says, not even bothering to hide his smirk, “congratulations, you have been matched.”

Michael glances at you the same time that you look at him, both of you rolling your eyes at how clever this man thinks that he is.

“Tonight, you and your paramour shall go into the woods and re-enact the Courting. What that means is that each couple shall go into the woods and disrobe and anoint themselves and lie under this blessed Lupercalian moon, absorbing the potency of the Goddess Selene herself.”

Although Michael had explained to you that participants still kept their undergarments on, the idea of taking off any layer of clothing in this weather is not too appealing.

“Anoint ourselves with what?” You whisper to Michael.

“Patience is a virtuous skill, (Y/N).”

“And you’re one to lecture me on virtues.” You fire back, snickering when Michael lightly pinches your arm.

“Abstinence is encouraged….” The warlock emcee is interrupted by a chorus of boos from the people surrounding you, “…in anticipation of the powerful release that concludes Lupercalia.”

Michael looks at you when you stifle a laugh, winking at the innuendo.

“However, should couples be moved to unite, well, I’m sure the Dark Lord would not oppose.”

“Glad we have your dad’s unholy blessing to get it on tonight.” You mutter, making Michael bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“Like that’s ever stopped us before.” He retorts, burying his face in your hair to hide his blush.

A beautiful dark-skinned girl with bleached, cropped hair produces baskets from behind a tree. You can’t see what’s under the blanket that tops each basket, but you can hear something clanking around inside.

“The milk and blood are for the purification, the oysters and figs are for fertility and virility. The cherries are for…popping.” The girl says, leaning in close to Sabrina Spellman in what you assume is a way to tease her.

“A word or two of caution.” Father Blackwood steps forward. “Each couple must stay together the entire night, and, above all, do not stray from the path. All manner of lust-filled creatures stalk the woods during the Lupercalia. Now, with the Dark Lord’s blessing, let the Courting begin.”

A long, low note sounds from a horn, spurring the couples to all start moving down the path. Michael grabs your hand in his, and you can feel the chill of the cool leather through your own knitted glove.

“I can’t believe that this is how I die. From knowingly and willingly going into a scene that’s the beginning of a horror movie.” You lament, letting Michael lead you behind all of the others.

“We’re not going to die, (Y/N), don’t be so dramatic.”

“Are you kidding me? Imagine this as the synopsis: ‘A group of young adults jaunt off into various parts of the forest in order to participate in a carnal ritual, that is, if they can get past all of the hungry beasts that lurk just out of their eyesight.’” You say dramatically.

“How did you manage to successfully make a festival of passion into a horror movie?”

“It’s pretty easy when the material’s right in front of me.”

The deeper Michael leads you into the woods, the warmer it gets. Soon, you’re tugging off your gloves and unbuttoning your coat in an attempt to cool down.

“How is it suddenly so warm?” You wonder.

“The magic of the Lupercalian moon. The further into nature we get, the more potent the moon is.” He finds a clearing among the trees just off of the path, deeming it acceptable enough to set the basket down.

“So if you don’t want to have sex, the ever-rising temperature is still gonna force you to take your clothes off.” You grab the blanket out of the picnic basket, the bottles and other items knocking against each other. Unfolding it, you lay it on top of the earth, Michael straightening the other end out.

“It’s just a way for everybody to be able to fully enjoy Lupercalia, even if it is in the middle of February.” Michael unpacks the bottles, as well as two knives.

“What are the knives for?”

“We don’t actually cut ourselves, it’s just an easy way to get the anointing oils onto ourselves. You use the flat edge of the blade.” He explains, standing up once he’s satisfied.

The red gloves come off first, Michael removing them one finger at a time. After shrugging off his coat, he looks at you expectantly.

“Are you going to take your clothes off as well?”

“Oh, right!” You blush, letting your coat fall to the forest floor as Michael looks on with a wide grin.

After taking your clothes off, you’re left standing in your matching bra and panties (black, of course, just like everything when it involves witches and warlocks), and Michael in only his boxers. Although this is definitely not the first time that Michael’s seen you like this, you still avert your eyes and cross your arms over your chest in shyness. Michael’s skin almost glows under the light of the moon, his eyes looking nearly luminous while he reaches down to grab the first part of the ritual. Dipping a knife in the bottle of blood, he hands it to you before repeating the action for his own knife.

“Do you remember what to say?” He asks, not at all shocked when you shake your head. “‘By Lilith’s blood,’ okay?”

Twirling the knife in your hand, you grip the cool, ridged handle of the weapon that you’re supposed to use to sensually drag blood across your boyfriend’s forehead. You glance at him, waiting for him to nod before lifting the knife.

“By Lilith’s blood.” You recite, Michael breathing in deeply as the blood makes contact with his skin.

“By Lucifer’s love.” Michael lifts his own knife, and you wrinkle your nose as blood is applied to your forehead.

“Can I ask you a question?” You and Michael both sink to your knees, Michael dabbing a cloth with the provided milk.

“Of course.”

“Is the Lilith in the myths real? Like…Satan’s concubine and all that? The mother of demons?” Michael grimaces, rolling his eyes quickly.

“Basically, yes.”

“So is she sort of like your step-mom?”

“My father and Lilith aren’t married, (Y/N).” You giggle as Michael wipes the wet cloth across your forehead. “Good, keep laughing. We’re supposed to laugh during this part of the ritual.”

“Why?”

“I honestly have no clue.” You can’t stop laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation and the conversation, Michael handing you the cloth once he’s done. “But yes, you could say that she’s technically my stepmother.”

“But you’ve never met her.”

“No, not at all. Not that I’m complaining, though. I’d rather meet my father.” Michael laughs when you cross your eyes and stick your tongue out at him, taking the opportunity to wipe the blood off of him.

“Do you think you’ll get to meet him one day?” He’s never really talked about his ‘true’ family before, and the only time he’s ever mentioned the parents who were a part of his infernal conception was when you got him so drunk on Mike’s Hard Lemonades (who would have thought so-called ‘bitch beers’ would make the Antichrist a weepy drunk?) that he ended up setting his own hair on fire.

“I hope so. Here, eat.” He holds a fig up to your mouth, and you grimace while taking a bite of it.

“Eugh, that’s probably the grossest part of this whole thing.”

“But wait, there’s oysters too.” Michael eats the rest of the fig, winking while you shoot him a horrified look.

You just want to get eating an oyster over with, so you reach over and grab one. Taking a deep breath, you plug your nose before tossing your head back and swallowing it down like a shot. Shuddering, you stick your tongue out as the slimy texture forces you to choke back a gag. Michael knocks back the oyster far easier than you did, only slightly grimacing and pulling a face.

“So what do we do now?” You ask.

“We lay next to each other and soak up the light of the moon.”

“Now that’s something I can get behind.” Michael grips your hand, tugging you down on top of him easily.

You roll off of Michael, still not letting go of his hand. Looking up at the moon, your eyes widen at just how big and bright it is. You’ve never quite seen anything like it, and if it weren’t for Michael’s laughter you wouldn’t tear yourself away from the sight.

“What?”

“I’m just…extremely lucky to have you.” You let your head fall to the side, grinning at Michael.

“I’m lucky to have you, too.” He leans over and kisses you softly, the sounds of wind rustling through the trees and owls calling out to one another forming a symphony above your heads.

Sleep claims both of you before you can even think about progressing to anything beyond lazy kissing. When you wake up, the gray light of dawn paints the forest in a new light, one that’s much colder than it was last night. At some point during the night, Michael draped his large coat over your bodies, which is greatly appreciated right now. Michael sits up and runs a hand through his hair, cringing at the tangles.

“I’ve never seen your hair so out of place before.” You tease.

“This will be the last time you see it like this.” He warns, standing up and finding his clothes from where they were thrown last night.

“Sorry we fell asleep before either of us were ‘moved’ to unite.” You quote, catching the sweater Michael tosses your way with ease.

“That just means tonight is going to be even better.” Your heart jumps at the reminder, causing Michael to look up when he hears. “Are you nervous?”

“No, I just don’t know what to expect!  Seeing as how each ritual has just gotten more and more strange, I’m assuming that this one’s is going to be wild.” Michael smirks, helping you stand and wrapping you in your coat.

“Hmm, guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

“I guess so.”

Night Three: The Hunt

Your earlier suspicions were dead-on; not only are you back in the same area of the woods that are now lit with a bunch of torches, but you’re also wearing nothing but a white satin slip and a pair of black stockings under a red cape that makes you look like Little Red Riding Hood. A bright red lip completes the look, as it does for all the witches around you. For the first time since Lupercalia started, you don’t feel entirely out of place surrounded by all these mystical women. You’re all dressed the same, and you’re all here to participate in Lupercalia. Tonight, you have far more important things to worry about than judgemental witches.

When you first found Michael, your knees nearly gave out on the spot. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of black jeans and a wolf’s pelt. The head of the pelt hangs over his forehead, acting as a sort of hat. He looks wild, uninhibited, and utterly happy; it makes your heart melt to see him so carefree. He couldn’t even stifle his grin when he had grabbed you to kiss you in greeting, too excited for the events to come to worry about keeping up the stern Antichrist demeanor.

“Welcome to the final night of the Lupercalia!” Ambrose (yes, you’ve finally learned his name) yells. “Hoods hunt wolves, witches hunt warlocks. The outcome of the Hunt shall determine the year ahead. Will it be bountiful or barren? Fruitful or fallow? Tonight, we hunt and are hunted, releasing our blessed magicks into the night. Warlocks, are you ready?”

The warlocks all howl and cheer in response, Michael included. The closer it gets to the start of the Hunt, the more excited you find yourself. Maybe the rituals of Lupercalia actually work, or maybe it’s just the fact that you haven’t slept with Michael in days and he looks particularly delicious in a wolf’s pelt.

Ambrose plays a long note on the same horn as last night, sending the warlocks running into the woods. You giggle as Michael darts off, pushing past the other men in an attempt to get as much of a head start as possible. Although it may not be a formal competition, Michael will always find a way to make some aspect of what he’s doing competitive.

“And witches, are you ready?” The women all around you yell, and you join them. When Ambrose plays another note, you dart off.

The woods are more disorienting than you remember them being last night. The fog makes it impossible for you to see more than thirty feet ahead of you, and the wolf heads all look the same from the back. Witches and warlocks sprint all around you, finding their partner and tackling them to the ground. You’re mildly impressed at how voracious some of these people are, going at it right on the ground and in the open. Your lungs burn as you continue to run further into the forest, hoping that soon the pack will thin out and you’ll be able to find Michael by the process of elimination.

You only stop when a stitch in your side forms, bending over and placing your hands on your knees while you try to catch a breath. There’s nobody around, everybody having already been reunited, and you can’t stop the disappointment that you feel. If you were a witch, surely this would have been much easier, you think to yourself. Standing up straight again, you start to walk back in the direction that you came from when a force grabs you by the shoulders and slams you back against a tree.

You shriek breathlessly, panic gripping you until the eyes staring at you register as Michael’s. His eyes glimmer with lust and excitement, and he bites his lip while smiling widely. You roll your eyes and lightly slap his chest, hand lingering on the firm pec.

“Did I scare you?” His voice comes out raspy, and you have to stop yourself from letting your eyes roll back in your head.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one who found you.”

“Hmm, I got bored waiting around.”

Leaning the weight of his body against yours, Michael traps you in place while he kisses you deeply. You throw your arms around his shoulders, the fur of the wolf pelt tickling your arms. His large, calloused hand grabs the cool skin of your upper thigh, hiking your leg up around his waist. You’re sure that the rough bark of the tree is leaving scratches even through the thick material of the cloak you’re wearing, but that’s honestly the last thing on your mind right now.

“You look so sexy tonight.” Michael gasps out, only removing his lips far enough to be able to breathe. “You look sexy all the time, but you know what I mean. The red lipstick is a really good look on you.”

“Yeah? You think so?” Your heart skips a beat; Michael compliments you all the time, but usually on the emotional traits you possess: how smart you are, how strong, how funny. He often compliments your physical appearance too, but with sweet words like ‘beautiful’ and ‘gorgeous’ and ‘stunning.’ If any other person were to refer to you as ‘sexy,’ you’d knock their teeth in. Michael’s use of the word, however, has your heart racing and blood pumping.

Michael nods eagerly, head falling to your collarbone as he sucks and bites the skin there.

“Absolutely. I always knew you’d look dangerous in a cloak, but this is beyond my wildest fantasies.”

“On that note, you should consider keeping the wolf’s pelt.” Michael raises an eyebrow at you before growling playfully, making you giggle loudly.

Those giggles quickly turn to a groan when Michael rips open your white slip, the soft fabric tearing easily under his grip. Your nipples immediately harden from the cool night air while you lift your hips away from the tree, allowing the now-ruined lingerie to pool around your ankles. The thin panties you’re wearing do nothing to hide your arousal, and Michael’s nostrils flare as his supernatural senses pick up on the heady scent.

The powers of this Lupercalian moon were hardly exaggerated. You can practically feel the magic of the light that you and Michael are being bathed in. It heightens everything you’re feeling, as well as acting as an aphrodisiac of sorts. In this moment, you’ve never wanted Michael more than you do now, and your legs are almost sticky with the arousal that’s starting to track down your thighs. He looks to be in the same state right now, eyes blown wide with lust and prominent bulge digging against your lower stomach.

Your hands go up to the silver clasps on your cloak, stopped when one of Michael’s large hands grips both of your wrists.

“Leave the rest on.” He says lowly, causing you to gasp as intense want curls in your stomach.

“Michael, I need you.”

Michael sinks to his knees in front of you, ghosting his lips down your body the entire way before hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugging them down your legs. He can’t stop himself from licking his lips at the sight of your pussy, swollen and glistening right in front of him. The moment his hot breath hits your core, your hands lock into his hair in an attempt to stay upright as your knees buckle.

He immediately dives in, sucking and licking at your cunt like it’s his last meal. The sensation immediately sends shockwaves through your body that not even the jolt of pain from throwing your head back and smacking it against the tree bark can diminish. Michael wraps his hands around your thighs, hoisting you further up with preternatural strength. The heels you’re wearing dig into Michael’s shoulders, but if it bothers him he isn’t showing it.

Michael’s nails digging into your skin is the only thing keeping you grounded as his tongue draws shapes against your clit, stopping every so often so Michael can suck harshly on it. You’re a whimpering mess above him, legs shaking from the exertion of being held up off of the ground. He pulls away from you momentarily, licking your arousal off of his face while he surveys you to see just how close you are.

“What do you want, baby? Wanna cum in my mouth first, or do you want me inside you?”

You think for a moment. Although the idea of a near-instant release and gratification is tempting, you can’t deny the throbbing from your pussy that makes you want to be completely and utterly filled to the brim with Michael. The man in question, who has been listening to your inner dialogue the entire time, smirks when your lust-drunk brain comes to a decision. He keeps his grip on your legs as he stands again, wrapping them around his waist for you. Your ankles cross over one another, locking him in your grip. Michael doesn’t even bother to get undressed all of the way, pulling down his trousers and underwear just enough to free his cock.

You swoon at the sight of it, thick and veiny, already flushed red and dripping precum at the tip. His cock is one of your favorite things, and if both of you weren’t so desperate you’d fall to your knees and return the favor. He enters you as quickly as he can without hurting you, groaning loudly as your walls flutter around him while you adjust to his familiar size. Your hands, needing to find purchase on something, snake their way under Michael’s pelt and dig into the skin on his back.

He kisses you deeply, tongues tangling together while he starts slowly thrusting in and out of you. Your body rocks up and down against the tree, working your hair into knots and wearing down parts of the cloak that you’re still wearing. You pull away from his lips only to fill your burning lungs with air, but by then Michael’s moved on to the smooth expanse of your neck, sucking bruises onto the clean canvas of your skin.

Michael is truly a sight to behold as his thrusts increase in speed, hitting deep right where you need him. His hair sticks damply to his forehead, the golden curls only looking more like a halo as they’re backlit by the moon. When his eyes focus on you again after being rolled in the back of his head, there’s only a thin blue ring surrounding the blown-out pupils. His lips are fuller than normal, swollen and red from the constant pressure being placed there by your own lips. His muscles ripple under the skin, trying to keep up with the brutal pace that he’s set. The sheer beauty of Michael Langdon would have Greek gods and goddesses weeping in both envy and want; Donatello and Michelangelo could only dream of sculpting something as perfect as him.

You cry out, hips snapping up in an attempt to match Michael’s thrusts. Your legs, which are already wrapped tightly around his torso, attempt to pull him in even closer. If that was even possible, you’re not sure there’s enough of you for him to fill. You can hear yourself speaking broken sentences, but you’re not sure if the words don’t make sense because your brain is too clouded or if you’re just so far gone that you can’t form actual words.

“Michael, I–please-” Your uneven breathing cuts you off, but Michael nods in understanding. He’s close too, thrusts becoming shaky and more erratic as he nears the edge of his own peak.

Your cunt clenches around him, making him groan lowly as he attempts to thrust deeper. The attempt works, and you can feel the fat head of his cock brushing against the the innermost, spongy part of your walls that has you releasing a sound that’s a cross between a moan and a scream. Michael doesn’t stop there, reaching a hand in between your connected bodies so he can rub harsh circles on your clit. There’s enough lubrication there, whether it be sweat or arousal, that your clit is already slick enough for him to easily manipulate.

It’s only a matter of time before you’re cumming with a shout, limbs seizing as the electricity of your orgasm runs through you. Your head swims, eyesight blurred from the intense pleasure as you try to watch Michael. You can feel him throbbing inside of you, eyebrows furrowed together and mouth shaped like an ‘O’ while he teeters on the verge of his own orgasm. You regain control of your body just enough to moan his name, purposefully clenching around him and allowing him to fall over the edge of ecstasy.

The sensation of his warm release coating your walls sends aftershocks through you, tightening your arms around Michael while he continues to ride out his orgasm with his head buried against your chest. When you’re both completely spent he pulls out of you, wrapping his arms under your ass while he lowers you both to the ground. The beautiful red cloak spreads out underneath you enough for both of you to lay on, neither of you caring about getting dirty.

“Y’know,” Michael says breathlessly, still spent from your previous activities, “I do believe that this is the best holiday I’ve ever participated in.”

“Ambrose was right when he said this was a blessed Lupercalian moon.” Michael hums from beside you, neither of you bothering to put any effort into actually moving your heads to look at each other.

“A blessed Lupercalia, indeed.”

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