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the-californicationist · 8 months

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he opens the mail

Captain Price opens a package, thinking it’s intel, but it’s a sex pollen. The only cure? Your pussy, apparently.

Warning: sex pollen tropes, extremely dubious consent, attempt at satire?, angry john price

“We’re never going to make this deadline. Laswell’s gonna kill me,” you complained, burying your head in the pile of envelopes and packages strewn over your desk.

“Did this to yourself, lass. Shoulda been keepin’ up with intel duty. Wee bit at a time, ‘s what I say,” Soap patted you on the shoulder, feigning pity.

You spent hours combing through the documents, and by the time everyone had gone to bed, your fingers were covered in paper cuts, and your vision was blurry from squinting at the poorly scrawled Cyrillic words.

You thought you were alone, and as you stood up to stretch and refill your coffee mug, Captain Price opened up the office door, scaring you half to death.

“Oh, hey Corporal,” he smiled and then furrowed his brow, “What are you still doing here?”

You sighed, pointing to the piles of documents,

“Laswell’s intel backlog. I’m the only one with a Level 3 linguistics cert for Russian, so here I am. Gonna be an all-nighter.”

He closed the door and sat down across from your seat, digging into the pile,

“I’m Level 3. Let’s finish it.”

“Captain, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure you’ve got more important things…”

Price shook his head, taking off his hat and hanging it on the chair back,

“Nah, tha’s alright, love. I’ll help ya. Get us a tea, yeah?”

You knew how he took his tea, and you hated that you did. Secretly, you were obsessed with him. He was always around, smelling like balsam wood and tobacco, looking like a gladiator, huge and capable in the most masculine way. It was hard to concentrate when he was nearby. Now that he had offered to help, you had to grin and bear it.

You worked together for a while, chatting, even laughing. It was nice. You had so much in common, the conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself much more at ease. Finally, three packages remained. You opened the first one and found little more than phone records for a local library. Unhelpful to say the least. Price opened a water bill, and he recognized the address of a recent Konni base location. Any intel at this point felt like a celebration. Then, the final box.

“Go on then. Show us the ending,” he smiled, handing it to you.

“Couldn’t take the joy of ripping up the last letter, Captain. Be my guest,” you smiled.

He chuckled, tearing into the envelope. In a flash, bright pink powder sprayed him directly in the eyes, and he writhed in pain, pinching them shut, his whole body going stiff.

“Fuck me!” He shouted.

“Hang on,” you ran over to the sink in the kitchenette, “Here’s some water. Get that shit out of your eyes.”

“Don’t,” he moved away from you like you were on fire, “Don’t touch me. Might be contagious.”

Your chest was rising and falling with your labored breathing, and you were immediately worried. You reached for your phone and called Laswell.

“Laswell, Price got anthraxed by one of the intel letters. What do you want us to do?”

She gasped,

“What? Shit. I’m on my way.”

She hung up on you. You watched Price slowly try to open his eyes. They were stained hot pink from the powder.

“You alright?” You asked him.

“Yeah, love,” he sighed, “Doesn’t hurt anymore. Feeling strange though. Laswell said she’s coming?”

You nodded,

“Yeah, just in case.”

He nodded, running his hand along the inside of his collar. The captain was sweaty and a little pale.

“Captain, are you okay?”

“Mmm, no,” he shook his head, “Something’s not right, love.”

He stood and went to the sink, washing as much of the powder off as he could. You moved away from him and stationed yourself across the room, praying for Laswell to hurry.

Price was in a bad way. He took off his shirt, and he was still dripping with beads of sweat. You tried not to stare, but his temperature wasn’t the only thing heating up. His huge cock was making a prominent tent in his pants, but he was in too much pain to bother hiding it. You felt yourself blushing, and you willed yourself to pull it together.

“…fuckin’ hell,” his hand went to his crotch to squeeze his length, trying to find some relief, “Sorry, love.”

“It’s okay,” you said politely, trying to breathe normally, but feeling the slick rush melt between your legs.

“It’s makin’ me…feel…bloody hell. I can’t hold it off. Can…can you…? No! No, what the fuck am I sayin’? No,” he shook his head, rubbing his hands down his face, hot and very bothered.

You inched closer to him,

“If I haven’t been affected yet, I’m sure it’s okay. How should I help you?”

“No! No, stay back. I’m not…I can’t think straight. My mind’s got one thing on it,” he shoved his hands beyond his zipper and began to jerk himself off, his dick making lurid noises with his hand.

You hated seeing him so helpless. You moved to his side,

“Cap, it’s okay. Let me help you.”

His hand was around your throat in milliseconds. Price shoved you against the wall and began to kiss your mouth, furiously laving his tongue against yours.

“No, no, no,” he whispered through his kisses, not bothering to pull away as he spoke his lamentations.

You made the mistake of putting your hands on his chest to steady yourself. He moaned, trembling beneath your touch,

“Ahh, careful.”

“Sorry,” you pulled your hands away, still trapped in his firm grip around your neck, “did I hurt you?”

“No, doesn’t hurt.”

He said it in a way that darkly implied your touch was igniting a different kind of fire. You put your hands back where they were, and his eyes shot open, piercing through yours with a lustful rage. Unexpectedly, he ripped off your shirt and lay you down on the black leather couch in the corner of the office. He crushed you with his weight, kissing you deeply.

Then, your phone rang. He didn’t allow you to pause, so it went to voicemail. It rang again. You were getting just as hot as he was, and you weren’t that interested in who was looking for you in the middle of the night. Until, however, the door to the office burst wide open and Laswell and Gaz burst through it.

Price snarled. You’d never heard a man make that noise before. Laswell put her hands on her hips while Gaz tried to shield his face in shock. Laswell rubbed her forehead, frustrated,

“Are his eyes pink, Corporal?”

You escaped his jaws for a moment,

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s a sex drug. Forces the user to fornicate as it is only passed through the body in seminal fluid, dissolving in the heat of another person’s body. Are you volunteering here? What happened?”

Her tone was so matter of fact, it was a little humorous, if Price’s length wasn’t rutting against you in earnest, you might've laughed. You tried to explain as much as he would allow,

“Got too close… just… happened. How…” you moaned as Price pulled down the strap of your bra and helped himself to your nipple, “How did you know?”

She sighed, typing something into her datapad,

“Checked the incident log from this afternoon. Four more cases of this have popped up in intel collections. Gonna have to screen for it next time.”

She turned to walk out of the office with Gaz, and you called after her,

“Hey, wait! How long does it - oh, fuck… how long does it last?”

Laswell had the audacity to smirk at you, raising her eyebrows and cutting her eyes at Price’s swollen cock, lolling out of his pants, scraping itself against you.

“Eight hours. Looks like you’re in for a rough night, Corporal. Maybe next time you’ll be more careful.”

Part 2

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain john price smut #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #afab reader #Female reader #x female reader

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horzagobuchul · 3 months

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Hello everybody!

Big thanks to everyone who welcomed me back to tumblr after my latest hiatus!

I have a rather big announcement to make since last I posted.

The fact of the matter is that the reason I haven't posted as much in the last six months is that I have met a very special person. This person lives in a different country from me and I have spent a considerable amount of time just corresponding with, as well as commuting to see them. To this comes the massive endeavour of learning an entirely new language - one that is fundamentally different from my own mother tongue.

This has occupied most of my winter and spring this year.

And last week, we got married.

That is to say I'm officially an adult with a bit different priorities now. I'll still keep posting from time to time, and I have quite a backlog worked up, as well as a few finalized animations with different characters in a few outfits that I fancy. But I won't be posting as frequently as I used to be doing.

I ask for all of your understanding in this and I hope that no one feels too neglected. I'm continually working through my requests and my ambition is to respond to each and every one in time. For now I'll aim to upload one animation per week, but we'll see.

If you have any particular questions for me, feel free to send them to my inbox!

#ai generated #ai #fat #ai art #fat girls #fat anime #weight gain #animation #before & after #stable diffusion #samus aran

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darqx · 6 months

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Snakes on a post

Another particularly long answer dump since i, once again, have a backlog of things to potentially answer |D

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

Got jumpscared with my own old art for a hot minute there LAUGHS.

(For those wondering, the naga doodle from here was attached to the ask)

That is every other Royal that exists in the Nether and also at least some of the demons that challenged him for his Royal title lol.

Believe me, no one was or is more surprised then me XD;

So, the thing about where Rire's ichor manifests is that it kinda exists and doesn't exist at the same time. Meaning that his upper back is where the manifestation point is anchored, BUT it can still manifest with a bit of space in between it and his back hence why it will manifest over his clothes and not through them.

So if you touch where the manifestation point is sans the ichor, than you are just straight up touching his back. With the ichor, he still gets sensory input from the tentacles to his back but it's a lot more soft and muted esp the further away it gets from him. As you've seen implied though, he would feel a very sharp pain if a great deal of damage was done to the ichor where it clusters at the manifestation point, since he'd DEF be feeling that straight in his back lol.

He is definitely a top and the only way he would bottom for anybody is if they somehow forced him to.

Ah i knew i'd answered this a long time ago [finally found it]! Holy crosses (those that have been blessed) can also burn him but they would need to be in contact with him the entire time. Being a Royal he also has more of a tolerance to these than normal demons.

Well, unless said person actually has the undeniable ability to make good on their words, Rire would just stand there rather genially with that little smile he sometimes has and let them finish.

And then he might use them as reverse suggestions for dealing with said person (why would you give him any ideas!!?)

both

In BTD canon it is quite possible that they actually haven't in person. But we are using creative license here haha.

Rire heals a lot faster than a human. Cain is not my character so I don't know how his stacks up.

I've grouped these asks cos they kind of have similar answers - 360° (jk sorry sorry to the second q that is just a very common spelling mistake and I couldn't resist XD; )

Now, even though we mashed all the characs together in BTD, they all actually come from different storylines and so their canons outside the "BTD canon" may differ. This tends to bleed in. With this in mind:

The rules of Rire's canon (eg the concept of Battle Royales and how to become a Royal) don't apply to Cain. Anyway, they don't live in the same place either.

Cain is canonically the oldest and most OP character in BTD lol so yes he is stronger than Rire - you might've noticed, but Rire is never in the same drawing as Cain voluntarily. I play with this along with the "natural weakness" aspect - which I've also referred to as scissors-paper-rock rules XD Basically; demons beat humans, angels beat demons (purely because demons have weakness against holiness).

It would (be insane) but I hope you are not looking at me to fulfil this :d

Not really

His coronation day is a public holiday in his sector so yes XD

Aww thank you very much for your interest! ≧(´▽｀)≦ It's really cool that some of you guys want to actually fund such a thing - I'd have thought you'd have enough of him killing you in BTD1 XD Unfortunately, I have no plans for a Rire game at the moment as I'm working on a webcomic which looks like it will take up all my free time (that being said, he will be in the webcomic at some point).

Nope! Although i can kinda see why you might think that lol.

Whatever that one is where he doesn't particularly care what someone else identifies as. It really makes no difference to him or how he will act.

There are viruses in the Nether that if contracted could potentially kill you, yes. Part of being a Royal is becoming a lot more robust than normal Demons though. As for if/when Rire dies, I dunno maybe either in a Battle Royale somewhere thousands of years down the line or by old age (which is rare for a Royal but not impossible if you play your cards right).

If you are asking if he has a heat/rut of some sort, he does not |D

#boyfriend to death #art #rire answer dump #answer dump #doodle #long post #decided to actually redesign what a naga rire would viably look like since the old design was bad XD

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zephyrchama · 12 days

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Hello!!! I love your writing and hcs its so fun and silly!!!! I hope I'm not bothering you and if it's ok do you do headcanon lists? I want to hear more of your hcs if its ok

Hi! You're not a bother at all, I have so many asks I want to respond to but they're never a bother and I seriously think about every single one!

(I overthink asks way too much and then get worried that too much time has passed but I still want to answer them hhh. I also hoard praise like a dragon. I will get to my ask backlog, I've already written a bunch of stuff for them.)

I've seen that list style before, I don't think I've ever tried it? Have I? 🤔 Let's give it a shot with some headcanons. (hold on how do I make a bulleted list on this site) (I need to google it)

Lucifer

He probably greatly enjoys when Asmo does his nails, because that means he can't pick up a pen and is forced to rest for a bit.

I like to think he gets his gloves from the same shop as Barbatos.

I have these gray/transparent hairs in my bangs that are currently not too noticeable (my hair is naturally dark), but they sparkle in the sunlight kind of like hair tinsel. I like to think Lucifer (and maybe Mammon and Belphegor?) have hair like this sprinkled throughout their heads, and that it sparkles like starlight in the HoL's candlelight.

Mammon

He'd probably iron his money. I don't know if the Devildom has bills in their currency or if it's purely coin-based, but if there are bills I feel like Mammon would take the crumpled up ones and iron them crisp again.

I bet he tried to take a bath full of coins just to see what it was like one time and got in trouble for scratching up the sides of the tub.

He goes gambling so often, he's probably good at telling when someone's bluffing. He calls lesser demons out all the time for bluffing to his face and it's incredibly intimidating.

Leviathan

Being one of the Seven Rulers, he's probably just as famous as his brothers and is recognized in public way more than he realizes, but he isn't approached often because he's so famous and powerful. I like the idea of a gap in how he perceives himself (an unconfident shut-in loser) vs how the public perceives him (a strong and mysterious demon within the prince's inner circle).

His tail is long. I made it irl, in-game it's gotta be over 10 feet. I imagine when he's relaxed at home it just splays out however, but anywhere else he keeps it coiled close to his body. Hitting people with the tail would be unbearably awkwardly, he doesn't want to take up a lot of space, and it's probably comforting to keep it close. He could subtly rub his own back with it when he's feeling anxious?

Satan

He knows a guy for everything. He's got a crop rotation guy. He's got an ear piercing guy. He's got ten cursed book guys. If you need something, Satan always knows a guy. Though, he prefers to be self-sufficient. I think of him as a very charismatic person who's great with other people, yet a big introvert.

He's so good at curses that I feel like he sometimes might accidentally put a low level curse on someone, without really intending to. It just happens on rare occasion, especially when he's mad. Someone looks at him funny and is cursed to spend the next three days sneezing every ten minutes.

Similarly, he's the one who uses magic most casually. His room appears the most 'magical' of the brothers, he probably has a very efficient way of incorporating his magic into daily life. (Nowhere near Solomon's extent, but moreso than the other brothers.)

Asmodeus

He probably sings a lot, just for fun, because Ayme-san is such a good singer. You'd often hear Asmo's voice humming or singing when he's home and in a good mood (or bored). He has an easier time memorizing school subjects when he puts it to music.

I bet students at RAD search his seat after school for stray hairs, and then sell those hairs to witches for love potions. It really upsets him but after getting them to stop for a few weeks, someone will inevitably start doing it again.

Beelzebub

Beel probably has one of the fastest reflexes out of anybody. They all have fast reflexes, but I like to think he'd be at least a few milliseconds faster than some of his brothers when physically reacting to things.

I don't think he likes being alone with his thoughts, which is why he's always eating or working out or spending time with his brothers. He might start overthinking things and getting lost in a maze of dark thoughts, so he works hard to keep those thoughts at bay. He has a lot going through his head but is a guy of few words.

Belphegor

I bet he knows so much gossip. RAD students probably have loose lips around him thinking he's asleep, but even if he is sleeping, he hears them and picks up on rumors. He doesn't care at all. He won't go around spreading things more. But it could become intel stored in the back of his mind.

He probably doesn't like to brush his hair - he prefers to have it brushed by someone else - but I don't think he'd allow Asmo to do it often. Asmodeus might get carried away and start giving Belphie high-maintenance hairstyles that are a pain to keep up, so he refuses hair help from Asmo on most occasions.

I was going to write the other characters but this is getting long and I realized it's not quite bullet point-y so it might not be what you wanted. ;u; Hope that's ok, thanks for the ask!

#obey me #obey me!#omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanon #obey me fandom #obey me hcs #obey me headcanons #obey me hc #ask #obey me swd #obey me brothers #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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nostalgebraist · 1 year

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Frank @nostalgebraist-autoresponder will permanently halt operation at 9 PM PST this Wednesday (May 31, 2023).

For context on why, see this post.

(tl;dr this project been a labor of love for me for years, it takes a ton of continual effort, and my heart's not in it anymore.)

----

The blog itself will stay up indefinitely, it just won't make any new posts or accept asks.

Most of the code, models, etc. are freely available right now. Insofar as they are now, they will continue to be. The change on May 31 is unrelated to this stuff.

I've made various interactive demos of these components over the years, and the demos will likely still work after the bot stops. But I won't do any tech support or maintenance on them, and I would actively recommend against using these as a way to "get Frank back."

----

I want to emphasize the following:

The best way for you to "send Frank off" over the next few weeks is to talk to her just like usual.

(And not too often, because she can only make 250 posts a day.)

This is true for a number of reasons, and can be viewed from a number of different angles:

(1)

While it can be fun to anthropomorphize Frank, she is structured very differently from a person, or even an animal.

She does not remember anything, even between two asks made on the same day. Every moment is a new one, with no relation to any other.

If you say "goodbye" or "you're going to be shut off" to her on May 30 2023, it's just as though you had said the same thing to her on some random day last year. She can't tell the difference.

She doesn't know these things are true or relevant now, and she can't possibly know in the way a human would. She's hearing the words for the first time, every time, and reacting in accordance with that.

Think of it like interacting with a baby, or someone with dementia. Every moment stands alone. If you strike a sad tone, they don't appreciate that it's about something. They just know that there is a sad tone, in the current experiential moment.

(2)

Frank mostly operates on a first-come, first-serve basis. She can only make 250 posts a day. There is a limited amount of time left.

Be conscientious about the way you're using up "slots" in this limited array of remaining Frank posts. Don't hog the ride.

(3)

I'm shutting down this bot in part because it's been a long-term, low-grade source of stress to me. I'd like the last weeks of the bot to be as low-stress as they can be.

When Frank gets an unusually large, or just unusual, form of user input over a period of time, I usually have to step in and do something in response.

(if there's way more input than usual and I don't do anything special, Frank will fill up most of her post limit quota before I even wake up, and then the asks will pile up further and further over the rest of the day.)

Maybe I have to delete a bunch of asks. Maybe I have to deploy some temporary change to her mood parameters to prevent the mood from getting too high or low and not coming back to baseline. Maybe I have to turn on "userlist mode," which still involves a cumbersome manual procedure.

Or, maybe I just have to do a lot more content moderation than usual.

"Usual," here, means reviewing and (mostly) approving something like 20 different hypothetical Frank posts per day, every day. If I go do something fun, and let myself forget about this task completely for 6 or 8 hours, there's a backlog waiting for me afterwards. During busy times, there's even more of this.

Just, like, help me chill out a bit, okay? Thanks.

#nostalgebraist autoresponder #nostalgebraist autoresponder meta

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inbabylontheywept · 2 months

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So I found one of your (nonfiction) stories and read the one about the refrigerators, and it made the librarian part of me very curious (and a bit horrified) and I have so many questions!! (Feel free to entirely ignore this, and I really don’t intend to ask anything classified) Are there still refrigerators being used for document storage? Did the refrigerators keep reasonably consistent temperature/humidity? (Because those are both things you want in anything resembling archival storage) How long were documents stored in refrigerators? Do you have any actual document storage/retention guidelines?!

Thank you so much for sharing all your stories, they are hilarious!!!

Naw, it's surprisingly difficult to even ask questions about classified material. We're encouraged but not technically required to be vague about the tests and their purposes, but the fridges are fair game.

Anyway, from the top:

Are there fridges still being used for document storage? At the time that I wrote the fridge piece, we were down to four (4) file storage fridges. At present, we are down to a single (1) file storage fridge, and parts to repair it are on backlog. Then we're going to have to build another filing cabinet. Not looking forward to that.

Did the refigerators keep things reasonant consistent for temperature/humidity? Yes. The temperature in the building does not fluctuate very much (they have relic computer systems that are absolutely, terrifyingly irreplacable) and keeping them happy is a major concern. The fact that it preserves paper is just a convenient side benefit. Humidity is likewise kept low in the basement (like, single digit percent low), for the benefit of some machines that dislike it strongly. We do occasionally raise the humidity in certain location while handling ESD sensitive materials, but those tend to be far from the fridges.

How long were the documents stored in refigerators? We have some facility documents that date back to 1972. We do occasionally have to reference those documents to answer such thrilling questions as "Why does overloading the machine hydraulics downstairs sometimes cause the microwave clock to reset upstairs?" (The answer is that, for reasons no one can explain, they ran 125 feet of wire off the test cell's breaker specifically upstairs, to the one outlet that powers the microwave.) (Seriously.) (And then they recorded this, as if their confession could expunge this kind of sin.) (Engineering does not follow Catholic God's rules- we do not have to forgive someone just because they fessed up.)

Do we have any actual document storage/retention guidelines? Sorta. The guidelines for disposal of documents refers to both positions and specific people that have been gone for years. In theory, someone could take it upon themselves to champion a new disposal process, but that would be boring bureaucratic work whose reward would be doing more boring bureaucratic work, and the machines that we work on here are the coolest shit in the world. Everybody loves working on the machines. Nobody likes sorting through papers. So we just kind of keep punting that one down the road. We'll probably do that until we get someone in who actually prefers doing paperwork to badass science (basically impossible), we get someone from outside the group who arrives to assure document compliance (theoretically possible, ridiculously arare) or until we run out of space (actually impossible, we add space more quickly than we can fill it with papers). We do have guidelines on storage safety. I do not know a lot about what they are. I'd be surprised if the fridges weren't kosher though. The official cabinets have some parts flimsy enough to put through with a can opener. Those fridges could be dropped from an airplane and not get a dent. They're beautiful devices.

#Babylon-Lore

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haveyouheardthisband · 8 months

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Submissions will be closed in one week!

To put it simply, we were not at all expecting this blog to reach this level of popularity (thank you!!), and thus were completely unprepared for the amount of submissions we got - over 20,000! At our pace, posting one submission per hour, it would take us about two years to do all of them (not accounting for duplicates, so the real ETA would be a bit less, but still just as preposterous.)

So, before the backlog gets even more ridiculous, we've decided to close submissions, effective one week from now. We don't know when or if we'll open them again, so get them in now - but do keep in mind that, ultimately, nobody knows if this blog will even still be running two years from now, so it's no guarantee!

To preemptively answer a few questions:

The blog is not closing down - we will continue to operate as usual.

We have no plans of increasing our post rate beyond one per hour. We have enough on our plate as-is.

We're still trying to work out a convenient way for songs to be added to existing submissions. EDIT: This has been implemented! See this post for details.

If you have any other questions, reply below or shoot us an ask.

Seriously, thank you all for the love and enthusiasm you have shown towards us and our silly poll blog! :-)

#talk #We did say in the past we wouldn't close them but - well - we changed our minds haha #This post will be reblogged a few times for visibility before closing

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ladykailitha · 8 months

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The Harrington Pattern Part 4

I know I said I was going to wait on posting this one, but it's got the most backlogged chapters so I figured I can at least put out this one for you.

It's extra long, like amount 1000 words longer than my usual. But I didn't want to stop half way through a specific section.

An elf gets his ears, Robin freaks out a bit, and everyone gets a little called out about their pre-conceived notions, but especially Mike.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

The day had arrived and Claudia had offered to help get them all there, as Eddie’s van was full and Robin still didn’t have her license. She was in driver’s ed right now, thankfully. Her parents didn’t want her going to college without knowing how.

So Dustin, Will, El, and Mike went with Claudia and Robin, Max, and Lucas went with Steve.

Dustin had wanted to go with Steve, but it didn’t make sense as his mom was the other driver. So he pouted all the way to pick up his friends, but by the time Claudia had picked up Mike Dustin was vibrating in the front seat.

Lucas was picked up last.

He still didn’t have his ears so he looked crestfallen when he answered the door. He was wearing the pirate outfit he had told Steve he had.

“He’s being a piss baby,” Erica muttered. “Something about ears.”

“Erica Jean!” Mrs. Sinclair hissed. “We do not talk about your brother that way.”

Erica crossed her arms and pouted.

“Actually, Mrs. Sinclair,” Steve said with a smile. “I have a solution, but I’m going to need your help.”

Both Lucas and Erica perked up at that. Steve patted his pocket with a wink.

“Of course!” Mrs. Sinclair beamed. “I told you Steve and Eddie were going to come through for you, didn’t I?”

Lucas blushed. “Yes, Mom.”

“Where do we need to be, Steve?” she asked.

“The bathroom would be the best place.”

She nodded and led the way, Lucas in the middle and Steve bringing up the rear.

Steve sat Lucas on the toilet seat and pulled out the thin box Eddie had given him. He opened it up so Mrs. Sinclair could see it first.

“Ooh!” she cooed. “I know just what we need. I’ll be right back.”

Steve turned around so Lucas could see them.

Lucas gasped. “Holy shit! What are they made of?”

“Silicone.”

“Do we need anything to affix the ears, Steve?” Mrs. Sinclair asked from her bedroom. “I have makeup glue if we need.”

“That’s fine, Mrs. Sinclair,” Steve called back. “I have spirit gum.”

She peaked around the corner. “Oh that’s even better!” She had her makeup bag in her hands.

“Actually Lucas,” Steve said eyeing the makeup bag. “Go change into your costume. I don’t want to smear makeup on your costume or accidentally knock off one of the ears and have to start all over.”

Lucas leapt to his feet and dashed out of the room.

“It was really nice of you to do all this for him,” Mrs. Sinclair told Steve in the wake of her son’s cartoon speed cloud. “It’s really made him feel special. To stand out in a way that feels good for a change.”

Steve smiled back at her. “He’s a good kid. It was great that I got to do something nice for him.”

Lucas came back a few minutes later, a blanket covering his costume. When his mom and Steve raised an eyebrow at him he blushed.

“I was worried about the makeup getting on the costume,” he admitted shyly.

Steve patted his shoulder. “I would have put a towel over it. A mom approved towel. I don’t think she’s going to approve that blanket.”

“Absolutely not!” She took off the blanket and handed them a ratty old towel to drape over Lucas’s shoulders.

“Thanks Mrs. S.,” Steve murmured and got to work. He applied the ears and then swapped with Mrs. Sinclair.

She applied makeup to the silicone to blend them to Lucas’s ears.

“All done!” she said triumphantly.

Steve whipped off the towel and pulled Lucas to his feet. He closed the door so that they could use the full length mirror that was on the back. He put his hands over Lucas’s eyes and gently steered him toward the door.

“You ready?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” Lucas croaked.

Steve uncovered his eyes.

Lucas stared in the mirror for a moment or two.

“Baby?” Mrs. Sinclair asked. “Do you like it?”

Tears streamed down his face as he nodded. “I’m an elf, Mom...”

She hugged him tightly. “Yes you are, sweetie. And the best looking elf at the fair, no doubt.”

He nodded and then wiped his tears.

“How did you do this?” he asked Steve.

Steve smiled. “Jeff makes them.”

Lucas’s jaw dropped. “Oh.”

Mrs. Sinclair cocked her head to the side. “Who’s Jeff?”

“Mom!” Lucas hissed. “I like talk about him all the time! He’s the other black member of Hellfire!”

“Ah,” she said with a smile. “You talk about so many of those boys, I get them mixed up sometimes. But I’m happy he was able to help my baby out.”

Lucas rushed out to show the girls who gasped and oohed over Lucas’s outfit.

“How much did you have to pay for those, Steve?” she asked gently. “They can’t have been cheap.”

Steve shook his head. “Jeff did them for free because he knew what it was like to be told no just because of the color of his skin. So don’t worry about it, okay?”

She nodded and the two of them wandered out into the front room.

“Steve!!” Erica screeched. “I didn’t know you could sew like this!” She waved at Lucas. “What the hell?”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “You could have come, and maybe would have gotten a cool outfit too. Too late now.”

Erica gasped, wide-eyed that Steve would call her out like this.

Mrs. Sinclair patted her daughter on the head. “You’re the one that wanted to sleep over at Tina’s this weekend, sweetie. Maybe next year.”

Erica couldn’t deny her mother’s logic and was forced to concede. “Fine, but just know I’m going to be grumpy about it.”

Mrs. Sinclair kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “I know, dear.”

“Come on,” Max said, “we’ve admired Lucas long enough, I want to go to this fair, please.”

Lucas and Steve shared a glance. “Uh-oh. She said please, we better go before she gets really mad.”

Max rolled her eyes. “Fuck off.”

Mrs. Sinclair bit her lip as she struggled not to tell the girl off for her language.

Max and Lucas piled into the backseat while Robin and Steve slid upfront.

The closer they got to the where the Renaissance Fair was being held, the more nervous Robin got.

“Steve?” she questioned. “Why are we heading to the burned down mall?”

Steve grinned. “We aren’t.”

Robin bit her lip. “No,” she mumbled. “I rode my bike on this road every day to get to work. This is the way to Starcourt.”

Lucas and Max leaned forward to see the road ahead of them.

“I think she’s right,” Max concluded. “This is the way to Starcourt.”

They pulled into the makeshift parking lot of the fair. It was pretty much a dust field with people in medieval getups directing traffic.

Steve pulled in where he was directed and they all piled out of the Bimmer.

They stood looking out at the field where Starcourt once stood, but was now a bustling center of outdoor activity.

“What the hell?” Robin gasped. “Where is the mall?”

Steve grinned. “This piece of land was always used for passing carnivals and the Renaissance Fair every year. When the mayor sold it to the Russians to build the mall it put a stop to a lot of summer activities the town once enjoyed. So after the earthquake they bulldozed the area and put back the way it was.”

“What did they do with the underground bunker?” Max asked, vaguely interested.

Steve scratched his cheek. “Filled it with uh, cement.”

Lucas and Max shared an appreciative glance and even Robin nodded.

Steve was the first to spot the rest of their group. Dustin, Mike, Will and El were waiting in neat little cluster for them.

Lucas tugged on the hem of his gambeson and ducked his head. Max looked over at him and rolled her eyes.

“They aren’t going to care,” she hissed.

Steve glared at her. “There has been evidence to the contrary regarding this very thing, so zip it.” He mimed zipping his mouth closed.

Max stared at him wide-eyed in shock. Robin tugged on her sleeve.

“Come on,” she told the younger girl. “Let’s got meet up with the others.”

Max huffed but did as she was told without protest.

Steve put his hands on Lucas’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Look, I don’t know how you feel. I can never know how you feel, but let me tell you something that those buttheads will probably never understand because they aren’t like you and me.”

Lucas nodded.

“Being a ‘nerd’ as they call it is not the be all end all of existence,” Steve said. “You can have interests outside of theirs. I know they gave you shit for joining the basketball team, but you are a good player, maybe even a great one if you keep at it. You won’t have the same experiences that they will and that’s okay.”

“But what if we stop being friends?” Lucas asked, his voice breaking.

“It’s going to suck for awhile,” Steve confirmed. “It won’t be easy and it will hurt sometimes when you least expect it, but you’ll make new friends with your same interests as long as you continue to be you.”

Lucas took in a deep breath and let out slow. “You’re friends were assholes though.”

Steve laughed. “And Mike isn’t?”

A small sunny smile peeked out from under Lucas’s cloud of worry. “Yeah, all right.”

They started walking toward the group with Steve’s arm slung over Lucas’s shoulder.

“Take a deep breath,” Steve told him as they got close. “And know I will kick his ass if he says anything.”

Lucas huffed out a laugh. “Thanks, Steve.”

They reached the crowd of their friends and waited for their reaction.

“Holy shit!” Will said. “That is an epic costume!”

And then Lucas fully reached the group and ears could be seen.

“What are you supposed to be?” Mike asked with a sneer. “There aren’t any black characters with pointy ears.”

Dustin scoffed. “He could be a Vulcan. There was a black Vulcan in ‘Search for Spock’!”

“That movie was so bad, dude,” Mike huffed. “It doesn’t count.”

“It totally counts,” Dustin protested. “It’s considered canon, therefore it counts.”

“I’m not a Vulcan,” Lucas said proudly, sticking out his chest, “I’m an elf ranger.”

“Are you a Drow then?” Mike asked. “You do know Drows are evil right?”

Dustin and Will’s jaws drop in shock and outrage.

“Dude!” Will hissed. “His skin isn’t literally black!”

Steve leaned over to the girls. “Does anyone know what a draw or whatever is?”

Lucas turned to Steve. “It’s a race of elves that live in the underdark, deep below where even the dwarves dare to delve. They’re straight up evil and very matriarchal.”

“Well that’s sexist,” Robin said putting her hands on her hips.

Mike rolled his eyes turned back to Lucas. “Well you can’t be Silvain elf, because they’re pale skinned and beautiful.”

“I’m a wood elf,” Lucas said, “my skin matches the woods around me, so I can blend in easier.”

Mike crossed his arms. “Show me one other dark skinned elf that isn’t you and maybe I’ll allow it.”

Just then a large van pulled up to the entrance in a skid, blaring metal music.

The four men got out and everyone was looking at them in stunned silence.

Eddie was dressed as a minstrel, wine dark puffy sleeves and leggings with a black tunic and boots. Gareth was a magic user in long, flowing purple robes that stopped two inches from the ground and beautifully carved wizard’s rod with a deep purple crystal in its grasp. Brian was a fighter with a metal sword at his hip and dressed in actual leather armor. Then the Party saw Jeff. He was dressed all in black with tight leggings, a short tunic and a black silk shirt that was covered by a short cloak. He had two silver daggers tucked into the tops of his thigh high boots.

He dropped the hood on his cloak to reveal that yes, Mike, he too had elf ears.

Jeff spotted Lucas and threw out his arms. “My kinsman! I greet you!”

Lucas turned and bowed low and Steve was forced to turn away to hide the smile at Mike’s stunned expression.

“Lord Kelnic,” Lucas greeted. “I understand these were a gift from you?” He rubbed the tip of one of the ears.

Jeff ran up to him. “Dude! How did you get them to match so well? I’ve tried every kind of glue to make them look like actual ears.”

Lucas blushed. “My mom used her makeup kit to blend the two.”

Jeff turned to the rest of Corroded Coffin. “And why didn’t we think of that?”

Gareth and Brian just shrugged.

Eddie on the other hand looked sheepish. “Because I thought makeup was just for girls?”

Jeff rolled his eyes and turned back to Lucas. “I’ll borrow my sister’s makeup for tomorrow. Can’t have shoddy looking ears next to my ranger kinsman.”

Lucas laughed.

Brian nudged Gareth in the ribs. “What’s Mike’s problem?”

Corroded Coffin all turned as one to see that Mike was standing there between El and Will looking like a rug had been pulled out from under him.

El patted Mike on the shoulder. “My mom says that people who judge someone by anything other than the content of their character are either too young to know better, or are immature. Grow better.”

She turned and started for the line that would grant them entrance to the Fair.

Lucas looked over at Steve and the two of them tried not to laugh at the absolute gobsmacked expression on Mike’s face.

“I’m not being racist!” he huffed and crossed his arms. “I’m not!” He looked around at all his friends, but none of them looked even remotely like they agreed with him. “He’s black so he should be black characters!”

Brian reared his head back. “Dude, how is that not racist?”

Mike looked around again panicked. “It just isn’t!”

Jeff walked up to him and looked him straight in the eye. A feat that was a little hard for most of his friends these days with how tall he’d gotten.

“There’s this thing, Mike,” he said, his voice low and menacing, “called casual racism. It’s where all your upbringing and prejudices come out in casual ways instead of saying things like nigger and that blacks should be separate from whites. It’s oh he can’t play that character, the character is white. He can’t be an elf, elves are white. That’s casual racism and you better check it before it ruins a damn good friendship.”

Jeff stared him down until Mike was nodding his agreement. He turned to Will and Dustin.

“I wasn’t here at the start of this conversation,” he said, “but you two need to be better at calling out Mike’s bullshit. Because a few years on, he should be better not worse.”

Dustin and Will gave confused glances at each other.

Jeff scoffed. “Lucas told me all about the lovely little Ghostbusters incident. He straight up told you he wasn’t going to be Winston, but Mike here assumed he wasn’t going to be anyway because he’s black. So the fact that here we are and he’s still being a racist asshole?”

“We do call him out,” Will said. “And I wasn’t here for almost a year, I don’t know what happened in that year, but yeah he got worse.”

Dustin shrugged. “I don’t know either, man. Don’t look at me.”

Steve stepped forward. “I think you do know, Dustin and I was really disappointed when I heard about it.”

Dustin looked up at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“After all, what’s a little casual racism when Lucas ‘betrayed’ you by joining the basketball team?” Steve said, crossing his arms over his chest.

The older members of The Hellfire Club looked chastised. Because they had all given Lucas shit for that.

“You still have time to course correct,” Steve said. “But make no mistake, any kind of bullying, is still bullying. Whether it’s about the color of their skin, the games they play, or the type of school subject they like.”

He pointed at Robin. “Band and orchestra is still people getting together and playing instruments like a metal band.” Eddie winced hard and shoved a lock of his hair in front of his face.

“Playing a sport is no different than DnD, planning, keeping track of stats, and working together are hallmarks of both.” Dustin and Mike shared a grimace and even Gareth and Brian looked uncomfortable.

“Being a genius at math or science doesn’t make you better than someone who is a genius at history or literature.”

To which everyone but Robin and Max looked at their feet. Because they had all made that mistake with Steve before this all started.

“I think we will all need to unpack some pretty garbage baggage,” Steve concluded. “But!”

All the heads shot up.

“We are here for a good time,” Steve said holding up his hand, “and as long as Mike apologizes to Jeff and Lucas I think we can move past this and enjoy ourselves today. Agreed?”

Everyone murmured their agreement, punctuated with nods. Mike looked down at his feet and kicked at a pebble.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I wasn’t trying to be racist. I’ll try to be better.”

Steve looked over at Jeff and Lucas and they both gave him a thumbs up.

“Great!” Steve said cheerfully. “Now let’s get this show on the road!”

“Dirt path maybe,” Robin grumbled. “It’s like an old western out here. I swear to god Steve if I see a tumbleweed I am out of here.”

Steve laughed as they all met El in line.

Now that the heavy stuff was out of the way, it was time for some good fun.

****

My favorite line was El's "...Grow better." Because there is nothing more stinging then your girlfriend telling you to stop being an ass.

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

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