#and the way they were talking was just like....gave me the most vehemently ace feeling I've ever had

[martianbugsbunny]

feeling way too asexual for allo shit rn

[hyunjilicious]

bath time [henry cavill]

A/N: Ok, i wanted to make this as domestic as possible, so basically this is just plotless SMUT + a fair amount of sex talk. Also, for the sake of this one shot, imagine Henry is not famous. It’ll make sense later. That being said, I hope you’ll enjoy this, and please don’t hesitate to tell me what you thought! (4.5k)

-

"There are literal drops of sweat rolling down my sides" you huffed, throwing your bag onto the floor and kicking off your shoes.

Behind you, Henry sighed as he closed the door. As soon as you heard the lock click, you turned to see him shuffling out of his shirt. It was a swift motion; just a half second after he grabbed the back of his collar and until the material was off of his body and all crumpled up in his hand. "You got nothing on me, love" he shook his head.

Even in the darkness of your entrance hallway, you could see faint traces of light reflect from tens and tens of sweat droplets all over his body. The curls that would normally frame his face were now glued to his forehead, and if you didn’t know any better you’d have thought he had just gotten out of the shower.

"Has it ever been this hot?" you mumbled, rushing into the living room and turning on the air conditioning. "Like, is this normal?"

"Normal?" Henry laughed, walking past you and into the kitchen, "Most likely not. But I think we should get used to it"

"I'm sorry, mother nature" you whispered, moving towards him.

You settled against one of the counters, and watched Henry rummage through the fridge. "Have you heard about Costa Rica?" he asked over his shoulder.

"No... What about it?"

"Apparently-" he said, straightening his back and closing the fridge. He handed you one bottle of water, and as you opened yours, he placed his’ against his chest, and rolled it down his abdomen. What a sight, but he didn't seem to have done it on purpose. "They're gonna be the first country in the world to completely free themselves of single use plastics and fossil fuel. In 2017 I think, they ran on 100% renewable energy for 300 days"

"Can we move there?" you asked, "That's incredible"

"I hope it's true and that they keep this going" he sighed, and finally opened up his bottle to take a sip.

By now, the cool air from the AC had barely started to reach you, but your body temperatures were already starting to drop. You decided to hop into the shower, and Henry affirmed he was going to do the same after he unpacked the bags. Although you felt a bit guilty letting him do this all by himself, you figured you'd be even eventually, since you were the one to cook dinner that night.

You didn't bother to grab any clothes before heading into the bathroom. You just walked in, turned on the water, threw all your clothes onto the floor and jumped into the shower. It felt heavenly. For a few minutes, you didn't even move, just allowed the water to drip down your body and wash away all the layers of sweat you had acquired during your morning errand run. 

Just when you grabbed the soap, you heard the bathroom door open, "Yeah?" you mindlessly called, assuming Henry must be needing something from his cabinet.

Nonchalantly, he just walked inside, not even bothering to look at you. He just sighed with relief and started unbuttoning his jeans.

“What are you doing?” you laughed, expecting him to just grab something and then leave.

With obvious surprise on his face, he raised his gaze, “Getting ready to shower?”

“Here?” 

He stopped dead in his tracks, his pants hanging onto his thighs for support as he had already undone and unzipped them. “Is this a problem? Do you want me to leave?”

Judging by the look in his eyes, he seemed a bit offended, but still willing to give you the privacy he thought you wanted.

“No, no.. Don’t leave, what the-” you chuckled, pulling the curtain to the side as an invitation for him to join you, “Just thought you were gonna shower in the other bathroom that’s all”

“What would I do that?” Henry shook his head, shuffling out of his jeans, “I can go if you want me to-”

“Jesus christ, Henry” you scoffed, and waved your arms for him, “Just come here”

“Why are you acting weird?” he laughed, taking off his underwear and walking towards you. He stopped just before stepping inside the shower, and looked at you with a devilish smirk on his lips, “Did you do something stupid?”

“I didn’t oh my god” you rolled your eyes and grabbed his forearm.

He followed your guide and stepped in. As you raised your hand to reach for the soap on the corner shelf, Henry wrapped his arms around you from behind. The water hadn’t yet reached his body, but he was still a bit damp and a lot sticky.

You let out a shriek, “I think we know who won the sweating contest”

“Of course I won, love” he laughed, burying his head into your neck. He spoke softly, in a low tone, but he did it so that his breath fanned directly against your neck, “Didn’t think there was any question about it”

“It was worth a shot” you laughed and turned around in his hold.

You took a few careful steps backwards, and pulled him after you. Leaning against the tiles, you stood and watched him walk directly into the water stream. It poured down his body, along his sides and down every calloused dimple of his frame. With your eyes trained on his body, you reached out and handed him the bar of soap, “Wash yourself for me, please”

“I take it I should put on a show” he laughed and you just nodded.

And he did try. “Ok, but like gimme a second to prepare” he commanded, pointing a finger at you.

“Whatever you need” you giggled and watched him grab a lufa, soaking it in ridiculous amounts of shower gel. He looked up at you, grinning proudly as he pushed his hair away from his face.

What you expended him to do was to sensually rub that sponge all over his body and have your mouth water in an instant. However, he had other plans. Henry held the eye contact as he closed the distance between the two of you, pressing you all the way back and against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall. 

“I know it’s not what you were waiting for” he chuckled in your ear, “But I think you’ll like this better”

There was no actual reason for you to argue and try to convince him otherwise, so you just hummed in agreement. He took it as his cue to get going, so his arms snaked around your frame, meeting at the base of your spine. The atmosphere, the hot water, his body so close to yours - everything was working on making this moment as intoxicating as possible.

You felt the soothing material rub against your back as Henry pushed his hands upwards along your spine. In the meantime, his lips pressed against the side of your neck, fervidly kissing away all your self control. 

“Ok, ok-” you moaned, tilting your head to the side. Your words were molded by the smile on your lips, “I see you, ok”

Henry kissed his way back up to your lips, “I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m glad it’s working”

“Oh, it’s definitely working” you eagerly nodded. He happily attacked your lips with another kiss, and you almost gave in entirely. Without any warning, he went full in, his tongue lewdly parting your lips, tasting you with no trace of hesitation. You arched your back against him, and in response, a soft moan escaped his throat. For a short while, he kept the message going, the rough touch of the lufa awakening your senses. It was nice while it lasted, but when he dropped it, you didn't feel like complaining. 

His rough palms pressed against the skin of your back, lustfully caressing their way up your spine. Pure, lascivious need dripped from his lips, suffocating you in the immense pleasure he was able to lay upon you, even through just a kiss.

As caught up in the moment as you were, your reality was instantly shaken up by the feeling of his cock fiercely twitching against your thigh. Not even a moment’s worth of hesitation followed, as you suggestively dragged your right palm down his callused body, only to grip his hardening member into your hand.

Henry gulped deeply into the kiss, his lips freezing for a second. Allowing his forehead to fall against yours, he spoke with his eyes closed, “You’re asking for it”

The threat came in what was probably the most sexual way possible, but he meant it. As crazy as you were about shower sex, it was a no go. You and Henry have been dating for almost three months now, and even with all the lube in the world, shower sex was still off limits. This was one of the very few moments it came as a bother, because you two never encountered a situation where you couldn’t find a place to do it.

“It won’t hurt to try” you suggestively brought your lips between your teeth, looking up into his eyes through your lashes. 

As you spoke, your hand traveled along his cock, with the profound intention to get him to agree.

“It probably will, darling” Henry chuckled, along with a knowing shake of his head, “Just let me wash you, yeah? And we’ll finish this later”

“Or I could just finish this now” you smiled, the grip of your fingers tightening ever so slightly around his cock, “Please?”

“Can you not?” he laughed, “I’m-”

Seeing him about to disagree, you lustfully guided your thumb along the slit of his penis, moving it back and forth at an agonizingly slow pace. It was enough to get him to shut up.

“Fuck-” Henry grunted. His hands slammed into the wall on either side of your head in hopes of finding another source of balance, while his head urgently fell back.

“Knew you wouldn’t be able to resist me” you smiled, fisting his cock into your hand.

Feeling his member harden against your palm made your mouth water. Directly in your line of sight, you could see Henry’s chest, vehemently rising and falling, as water dripped down his skin. His flexed arms framed your body, trapping you between his massive figure and the wall, and it all worked in your advantage. 

“Look at me, baby” you smiled, nudging the side of his abdomen.

Less than a muscle put at work, his head fell forward as if it was the most difficult task in the world. Henry watched you from under a pleasure induced frown, a vulgar color tinting his cheeks towards the most errotic shade of red.

“Go on, love” he encouraged you, as if needed.

The pleasure was all yours. The choked back moans that would manage to escape his throat were all you needed in return. Despite the warm water that was pouring on top of your bodies, his breath was coarsely hot, fanning against your lips.

Picking up your pace, you could feel his cock getting harder by the second.

Cupping his cheek into your free hand, you effortlessly guided him to meet your lips. Although covered in miniature droplets of water, his lips were dry under the strain you put on him. You worked him up beyond expectation, feverishly consuming his whole self control.

A soft purposeful moan from you and into his mouth was the last drop, “Angel-” he whimpered.

“I got you, baby” you teased, speaking lewdly against his lips.

Looking down between your bodies, your eyes landed on his inflamed tip, ripe precum dripping onto your fingers for the shortest of seconds, before being washed away by the endlessly pouring water.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” you moaned, consuming his remaining ounces of vigor as you worked devious amounts of pressure against his slit.

Bottom lip tortured between two rows of merciless teeth, all Henry managed to give you was a nod. A nod of approval, one which brought a smile to your lips.

“Come on” you deplored, crying your words without any kind of shame, “I want your cum, baby, give it to me”

“Fucking hell!” Henry groaned, rubbing his forehead against his shoulder, “Really want it, huh? Couldn’t fucking wait to get out of the shower?”

“Nope”

“Better get on your knees then” 

Vividly maintaining the eye contact, you lowered yourself in front of him. You opened your mouth, getting ready for him, but you weren’t there yet.

Henry wrapped his hand into your wet hair, pulling you towards him as he took a few steps back. His cock hung proudly in its full glory inches away from your starved lips, but you decided to wait patiently like you know he loves so much.

With his fingers still gravely tormenting your roots, Henry made you look up. The fervor in his eyes was reflected in the length his cock had reached. “Tongue out, angel. And look at me, yeah?”

You nodded eagerly.

Henry worked himself through the remaining energy he had left, fisting his cock with nowhere near as much lust as you did just minutes before. But you were on your knees, mouth open and tongue out like the good girl he loves to fuck so much, so it was only a matter of time until he pushed himself over the edge.

He didn’t cum without a warning, that came in the form of a harsh tug of your hair.

In waves, his cum coated your tongue. The water was still full on pouring behind you, yet all that was audible were his moans, and the plethora of curse words he found suitable to express himself.

“Jesus, fuck-!” Henry cried, mercilessly pumping his cock.

He was nearing the end of his high, but he kept going. The sight of you proudly swallowing his cum added to his pleasure, forcing his head back, “Fuck… Y/n…”

Your teasing side awakened, and in the head of the moment, you pushed yourself up, circling your lips around his tip, sucking the last droplets of his juice directly into your mouth.

As soon as he finished, Henry collapsed against the wall by his side, panting heavily, eyes trained somewhere on the other side of the bathroom.

“Thank you, daddy” you laughed, choosing his thighs as the perfect element of stability to help you stand up. You happily kissed his lips as soon as you reached his level.

“Oh, this is nowhere near done, baby girl” Henry taunted, effortlessly spinning you around and slapping your ass, “Out”

“What do you mean out!?” you questioned confused.

You tried to turn around, but Henry forced you out of the shower, stepping out right after you.

“We’re changing bathrooms,” he said sternly.

“Why?”

“As cute as I think it is that your pussy is too tight for my cock-”

“It’s the water!” you protested, slapping his hand, “My pussy is just fine”

“Your cunt is perfect, I never said it wasn’t,” Henry laughed, kissing your lips, “But I got an idea, so now go and run a bath”

“What’s this idea?” you asked as you started to walk out of the bathroom.

“What does it matter? You’re always down for everything I want”

“Oh god” you exclaimed, the way he worded it making your cheeks catch on fire.

“Isn’t it true?” Henry teased, slowly approaching you.

“When you put it like that…”

“Go” Henry shook his head. He slapped your bare ass before you two parted ways, “I’ll be right there”

And you did as told, forcing every brain cell in your being to not buzz with anticipation. Things with you were new anyway, but him acting like this brought upon you a whole new feeling that ached all the way down between your legs. Working on autopilot, you ran the bath, added some random and forgotten bath salts to the mix, and about ten minutes later Henry joined you. The light here was dim, contouring the perfect romantic atmosphere you knew had no place in the room right now. 

“Come here” Henry encouraged.

He was sitting down at the end of the tub, the water reaching up to barely cover his abdomen. You obediently crawled over, on all fours, stopping only when your face was inches away from his.

The salacious smile on his lips should’ve come as a warning, but you were too out of it, so when his hand brushed against your inner thigh, all your senses went crazy. He wasted no time before finding your pussy, probing your folds for just a second before slamming his pointed fingers inside of you.

“Fuck” you panted, squeezing your eyes shut, the impending feeling of his fingers filling you up having an unanticipated effect on you.

“Look at me” Henry commanded, roughly gripping your chin into his hand, “None of that, love, ok? I know you can take my fingers”

With tears of ecstasy coating your eyes, you nodded your head up and down, biting harshly into your bottom lip.

“How’s it feel?” he asked proudly, his grin worth a million words, “You’re already wet as fuck”

“Feels fine” you breathed, getting used to the feeling.

“Fine won’t do, darling” Henry shook his head.

This time, when he kissed you, he shoved a third finger inside your cunt, making you gasp directly against his lips. The pain of the impact dissipated quickly, as Henry pressed his thumb against your clit, working experienced circles against it. 

“Hmph, Henry-” you cried, falling forwards to hide your in the crook of his neck.

“That’s it, love” he encouraged, caressing your side, from your hip up to your breasts with his free hand, all while maintaining the pace of his fingers on your pussy. His movements were aggressive and impatient, pushing your buttons and spreading your boundaries beyond control.

“Oh, god- I- what-” you moaned. 

Complete randomness, and it for sure wasn’t meant to make any sense either. The experience in its whole was new and so was the feeling that was forming inside your belly.

“Cum on my fingers, Y/n, ok? Don’t hold back.”

“Ok, fuck” you whined, arching your back as you white knuckled the edge of the bathtub for support.

Henry picked up his pace, roughly fucking you pussy with the kind of roughness you didn’t think you’d ever find enjoyable. Yet there you were, a moaning mess, squirming uncontrollably as you waited for an orgasm to calm the fire in your veins. 

“How come I’ve never had you ride my fingers before?” Henry chuckled, the arrogance of his tone twisting your stomach into a knot, “No fucking work for me, and I get to see you like this?”

After processing his words and allowing your mind to soak up the dominance in his voice, a loud moan escaped your throat. You tried to muffle it by slapping your hand on top of your mouth, but you were too late.

“Don’t do that” Henry said, ushering you hand away, “Think I didn’t feel your pussy clench around my fingers?”

“Oh- This is just, Henry, what are- fuck.. I’m so close”

“Cum, doll” he taunted, grabbing your chin again. He slammed his fingers deeper inside your cunt, spreading your walls and putting pressure against all your spots, “Make a mess of my fingers, love”

And that was it. The last drop. The last profanity your mind was able to take before slipping down a spiral of endless pleasure. Your reality distorted to the point where the only thing you felt was the urgent touch of his fingers. And he worked you until he saw every last drop of pleasure leave your body, and it still wasn’t enough. As satisfying and exhausting at it was, you were not ready to have his fingers leave your body.

“You’re so fucking beautiful” Henry said, his voice managing to bring you back to reality.

You licked your lips, uselessly trying to moisten your mouth, “Yep.. yeah..”

As you came down from your high, you cuddled into his chest. The water around you was starting to get cold, but you didn’t care, and neither did Henry.

“You good?” he questioned, the warmth of his tone coming in perfect contrast with the taunting attitude he had been displaying in the past minutes.

“So good” you smiled, content.

“Up, then” Henry laughed, slapping your hips.

Reluctantly, you did so but not without a whine, “Why?” 

“I wanna see if you can take me now”

Your heart panged, and you felt like hesitating, but the mere thought of him stretching you up beyond your limits excited you. “Just- go slow, yeah?”

“I won’t do anything you’re not ready for, angel” Henry assured you, guiding your hips so that your opening aligned with his already hard again member, “I’ll just slip my cock inside, and let you adjust, that’s all”

“That’s all?” you questioned, unable to hide your faint disappointment.

“I’ll do more if you can take it” he chuckled, “But if you can’t, I’ll stop and we’ll get out so I can properly fuck you in the bedroom”

“Ok, I’m not made of glass!”

“We’ll see”

“Stop!” you laughed, “It makes me feel like this inexperienced little girl”

“How is that not a turn on?” Henry questioned, “I don’t get it”

“Well, I’m not one”

“You’re not a slut either, but we both know how much you love it when I call you that”

“So what do you prefer?” you laughed, “A slut or an inexperienced girl?”

“You know what I fucking prefer, Y/n?” Henry spoke, loud and clear, after taking a deep breath of air, “I prefer my girlfriend who wakes up at 6am everyday to work on her PhD but deepthroats my cock before lunch like her life depends on it”

“Oh wow” you giggled, “I did not expect-”

“What didn’t you expect, hm?” Henry interrupted you, “Didn’t expect me to want to fuck your brains out every time I see you in a pencil skirt and heels? Or that half the time I look at your lips I think about shoving my cock down your throat? Or that the fact that you’re 7 fucking years younger than me and working on your fourth degree, turns me the fuck on?”

“Then fuck me” you said, “Now, rough me up, I can take it”

“Another thing you might not have expected-” Henry grinned, guiding his cock to your entrance and tracing it back and forth, “The fact that I still don’t think you’ll be able to take me, turns me on more than thinking you might be able to”

With your heart on fire, you leaned in, trapping his face in between your palms. He welcomed you mouth open, tongue ready to take control, as his hands settled on your hips.

You concentrated your mind on the kiss, on his taste and on the feeling of his tongue wagging dominantly against yours, while he sank his fingers into your flesh, pushing you down against his cock.

When his tip pushed past your folds, you whimpered against his lips, but none of you showed any signs of wanting to stop. You kept lowering yourself, the stinging sensation between your legs only growing more and more intense with every other inch of his’ you’d take in. Henry kept kissing you, peppering the moment with the occasional lip bite that only worked in your favor.

The way he moaned against your lips, the way you felt his throat vibrate with every grunt he released, made you more and more eager.

“So, so, fucking tight, fuck” Henry groaned, “Fuck me”

You nodded yes, sharing the feeling with him. Your eyes were covered in unshed tears, as the hazardous feeling between your legs only intensified. 

“Are you ok?” he asked as soon as you completely lowered yourself onto his cock.

“Yeah” you said, “This is actually nice. Kinda”

“Come here” he cooed, motioning for you to lay down against his chest. As soon as you did, the stinging sensation between your legs blew up. On the other end of the spectrum, Henry threw his head back, moaning out loud.

“That good, huh?” you teased.

“Fuck, love” Henry chuckled in disbelief, “Your pussy was made for me and I don’t wanna hear otherwise”

“No one’s gonna tell you otherwise, baby” you giggled, “Don’t want any man to think about fucking my mouth other than you”

“Good,” Henry said sternly.

“Doesn’t it turn you on though?”

“What?”

“Think about other men wanting me but I’m all yours?” you asked, your voice a bit lower.

As he put his thoughts together, Henry closed his eyes, rubbing his cheek and chin, “Depends”

“On what?”

“Now I’d fuck your brains out while some dude watched and cursed that he’s not me. But I can’t promise that this will always be the case”

“Do you get jealous easily?”

“You got up at 7 this morning to come with me and wait in a line for 3 hours just so I can get one piece of paper” Henry said, “Pretty sure I don’t have any reason to be jealous yet”

“Aw, this is so sweet” you gushed, leaning down to kiss him again. By now the water was dead cold and the feeling between your begs was starting to dissipate, but your mind was in a different place, “You were so cute and now I don’t wanna say what I had in mind”

“Oh god” Henry chuckled, shaking his head, “By all means, please, tell me”

“Ever tried Chatmix?”

“No, what’s that”

“Well…” you hesitated, “It’s a site.. Where people go and masturbate together”

His face fell, “And what do you exactly wanna do?”

“I want you to fuck me while strangers watch”

For a second, he failed to answer, but eventually, a smile creeped up on his lips, “Are you serious?”

“Yeah… I mean no one would know who we are and I think it’s really hot to like you know… I mean.. I just think it would be hot to have people watch us.. And see how good you fuck me, and how I do whatever you tell me because, I don’t know... I’m your good girl…? and I want people to like see how you… own me?”

The color on Henry’s cheeks drained. All the life in his features wilted away, and for a second you couldn’t believe how badly you just fucked up. But the warm tone in his eyes soon got replaced by a wicked shade of carnal blue, and the corners of his mouth tilted upwards, proving that you might have just been wrong. Before he opened his mouth to speak, you felt a faint pang deep in your belly.

“Did you cock just twitch?”

Henry cleared his throat, “Chatmix you said?” 

“Yes”

“Do you wanna-” he started asking, voice an octave higher.

“Like right now?”

“Yeah? Or not-”

“We should” you affirmed.

Henry nodded, seemingly deep in thought.

“Did you cock just twitch again?”

“Ok, let’s go”

[fandoms-ruin-life]

Omg, thank you! The amount of people who are "deeply uncomfortable" with Charlie for posting that video kinda surprised me like it's just his bare booty with NO SEXUAL CONTEXT whatsoever. Why do people act like they didn't see bare ass in their life?? And idk maybe it's just me but even if you saw a penis and it was not meant to be shown as something sexual(nude beach) it is still okay for kids because it's just a body part and there is really nothing wrong with it

hope you don’t mind me posting, you didn’t say you didn’t want to. just message me if you want it taken down.

-

honestly i’m of that opinion too, but that was more extreme so i left it outta my original post 😅 i know that some people, even if they agreed with my og point, would be turned off by that one.

i feel like that one is more up to the individual parent rather than a blanket statement “it’s fine”

and that’s honestly completely okay too, there’s a time and a place, and people have varying levels of comfort. but if the intent is not to sexualise, i feel like that’s an important distinction.

it all goes back to the grand ol’ discussion of female presenting nipples. what makes them different to males? cultural opinion and sexualisation, that’s what.

like those dresses where you can see the entire boob but the nipple is covered? why does that make any difference?

it’s the same thing with asses. they’re only sexual if you make ‘em that way

also, unrelated, but also kinda? maybe? in my opinion, sex as a subject shouldn’t be as hush hush.

like that’s how you get so many people unaware of safe sex practices.

for example, my parents are both in reproductive healthcare so i have zero reservations about the human body. they gave me the sex talk before puberty and the door was always open for even the most insane sex questions as i grew up and heard the wild (and mostly impossible and untrue) sexual exploits of my classmates

seriously, turning 16 was a wild year. everyone suddenly had a sex story cause they were ‘legal’ and they all had to one-up the other.

sidenote: my mother even bought me my first pack of condoms (though that soon became redundant once i realised i was ace 😅)

but my point is, because the door was always open and it wasn’t stigmatised, i was never afraid about the subject? like, it’s natural, most of the population enjoy it, why is it so awkward??

but going back to the original point: within that talk, they made a point about how CONTEXT matters the most in regards to what makes something sexual. this bare ass? that should not be treated the same as if it were positioned suggestively on a bed or smthn.

the human body is the most natural thing in the world, idk why so many people are so vehemently opposed to children seeing it.

obviously i’m not advocating for everyone to start walking around the streets naked, but a quick glance of someone’s ass (walking into a lake?) from a distance? in my opinion that’s no more suggestive than a woman breastfeeding her child.

both serve a purpose, and both were not intended to be anyone’s jack-off material. one is preserving life and one is glorifying it via art.

that’s literally it.

it’s just art.

and woah this got longer than i expected, but i haven’t slept and i’m a cranky tired so i wanted a rant

i may delete this later once i’ve slept/if it gets some backlash cause i ain’t dealing with that, but i wanted to answer it now whilst i’m still fresh with the subject

tl:dr: ass good, no sexual content. human body natural, purity police deal with it

[glumpiglet]

Indulgence (F!ReaderxBeetlejuice)

Alright well in my other fic ‘Reassurance’ I had an idea of Beetlejuice being all hot and bothered by the reader licking a knife. And I explored that a little more… And I did realize I might have a little bit of a food kink… ANYWAYS This is the product of that. Woof, enjoy or like tell me it sucks please, whatever... I’m so nervous posting this. I’m blushing and i know this isn’t even that lewd.

Warning: NSFW! 18+! I am going full smutty smut smut with this. Beware. I’m talking about Oral, Overstimulation. Light BDSM. the works. 

You believed people could find satisfaction in any number of things. Food was one for you. From a young age you took your time with meals, savouring the tastes and textures of what you put in your mouth, wanting to know best how to prepare the things that nourished you.  

The career you had didn’t consist of being some five star Michelin chef, but you were a good cook. Took care with the food made and was always trying new things in the kitchen. Even spent most of the extra money you had on any appliance or ingredient that caught your fancy. 

What you never expected was ever to share the company of a ghost, never mind a demonic, powerful spectre that was Beetlejuice. Or Lawrence as he let you call him. 

A dead boyfriend was something you had been taking pretty well all considering. BJ was quirky, to say the least. 

Lately you have been trying to give him hobbies other than attempting to scare the living shit out of those around him, and trying to get your attention all the time. 

Showing him how to collect bugs from the garden, you had an old aquarium brought out and set up with the ghost, watching with pride as he took to it naturally. Filling it with dirt, sticks; creatures flitted around inside and you saw he was becoming quite the connoisseur.

Loving books was another passion of yours, had a pretty well stocked bookshelf if you did say so yourself. It had taken weeks to get Beetlejuice to confess to being subpar at reading and spelling. You didn’t know what kind of education he had had, but teaching him had been a thrill. It had been slow, arduous work, but he was coming along nicely, reading at an excellent level. You even had a decent Stephen King collection Beetlejuice seemed to enjoy.    

Another peculiar thing about Beetlejuice made itself known when you cooked.  

Beetlejuice acted strange when you ate. He hardly ever joined in on your meals, had told you once that he didn’t need to eat much, being dead for forever and all. 

In all honesty it would have been easier had he had any desire for the food you so enjoyed. 

Instead he sat at the table, and watched. 

You had to get over your shyness quickly. Beetlejuice was exorbitant, a bundle of energy. Boundaries were something that did not exist to him. Even before you started having sex, he was constantly touching; playing with your hair, marveling at your soft, smooth skin. 

He was particularly devilish tonight. You could tell by his sly smile, his whole body practically glowing green. Bolts of pinks shifting through his hair as he caught you up on his trip to the Netherworld. And maybe you were trying to tease him a bit tonight, comfy in a pale nightgown you knew he liked, and could felt your nipples perked with the AC running through the house. 

Having to practically push him out of the kitchen as you cooked the pasta however, he kept getting in the way and you were going to burn yourself if he tried to distract one more time.

Once the dish had been cooked and you sat down to eat, watching with amusement as Beetlejuice scraped the nearest chair towards you, he plopped down in immediate proximity to you. In the past, it was common to have to tell him to get his own chair on several occasions, he had a habit of wanting to just sit into your lap.    

“.......So I says to him, ‘Buddy, I don’t know where you think you are, but that’s no guppy biting your leg!”

Giggling at his boisterous story, the two  of you shared a laugh as you slipped some of the noodles into your mouth. You had begun to grow your own tomatoes and zucchini, and had to say it was a success so far, they were juicy, almost sweet. This might have been the best primavera you made in your life.  

Moans were coming out of your mouth before they could be stopped. Your family was always making fun of you about the way you ate, joking they couldn’t take you to restaurants because of it. It couldn’t be helped. Taste was your favourite sense, a thing that activated the happy nerve in the brain, making your body react in a subconscious way.     

Beetlejuice went silent.

Taking a few more bites, humming at the flavour and oblivious to BJ’s sudden change. A moment you looked up and took notice of how the air was tense. 

BJ didn’t scare you in day to day life. But you knew never to underestimate him, and to not play innocent around him. Beetlejuice was a predator, a veritable horror show of demonic talents that were solely used for scaring breathers.

Still, when Beetlejuice gave that look, golden eyes glittering with savage intent, hair blown a completely different colour; you knew it wasn’t scaring he had in his mind.

BJ pounced. Gripping your shoulders, he kissed desperately. Shoving his tongue into your mouth, you stumbled, dropping a fork as he basically hauled you up. Pinned by his body against the table, you made a noise of discontent at his assault as he pulled back, looking with eyes blown wide with lust.   

“Fuck….. Sorry, babes, I need you..” Swept up in his surprise attack, a bolt of pleasure made you quake as he kissed the sweet spot on your neck, latching on and lapping the skin. 

Beetlejuice was obsessed with marking, rubbing his facial hair vigorously across sensitive parts, biting and sucking sometimes on the peak of being painful. You knew he wasn’t trying to hurt you, sometimes his eagerness could take over. On the tip of your tongue was a protest, but when it was realized you weren’t going into work tomorrow….. You’d suppose he could have his way.   

“Now.” The growl against your cleavage was impatient. You knew if you didn’t stop his rough clench of his fists in your nightgown, he would just rip the thing in two. As he manhandled your body, there was the instinct to submit, allow him to have his wicked way.

You knew the truth.

He missed you.

It was at your encouragement that made him  go back from time to time, he mentioned having several friends ‘back home’. You felt bad for him, he had said he had been stuck invisible among the living for a long time, longer than you could comprehend. 

Then one day you were being curious about ghostly things and he showed you a book called ‘Handbook for the Recently Deceased.���

“Why do you have this? You’re not recently deceased.”

He looked at you as if you’d grown an extra head, and explained slowly.

“It comes with the tote bag, babes.”

He even opened it, once you realized you couldn’t ‘being a breather and all’. It was the oddest thing you ever saw. Glowing pages filled with ancient looking text. It smelt of old pages and sulfur. A line caught your eyes ‘Proceed directly to the Netherworld…’

“This says in order to get to the Netherworld, you just draw a door.”

“Yeah that’s how it works…. Welp, cupcake, you don’t wanna read that boring thing…..Wanna see a puppet show?”

Trying to take it from you, you held it out of his reach. Beetlejuice could be so deflected sometimes. It became a game, and you were getting really good at knowing which questions to ask.  

“Wait, I’m confused. You mean you’ve been able to go back the whole time? Why haven’t you?”

Snatching the book from your hands, he muttered about ‘bad idea’ and ‘stupid’ until you got it out of him. 

“I never really….Belonged there. My mom was always telling me….. Demons weren’t like me, I was a failure….”

Juno. That cunt. Oh yes, Beetlejuice had told you about his ‘mother’. 

Realizing if you took a trip down, you might be able to give that rotten bitch a good piece of your mind. Sadly, trying to get him to take you to the Netherworld had been a vehement ‘no’.

“Absolutely not, (Y/N). Breathers are not allowed there and…….I don’t need anything to ever happen to you.”

That had been it on that, you couldn’t exactly argue with him. Pushing murderous thoughts to the back of your mind, but the idea was never completely forgotten. 

“I think you should still go and visit your friends, BJ. I’ll be here when you come back.”

Assuring him over and over it would be okay, finally he began his vacations. Time apparently moved differently down in the Netherworld, he would be gone for extended periods of time. So once in a while you had to let your little bug fly away, but every time he came back, you remembered that old saying about ‘if you love something, set it free…’ 

Chuckling into the present, you tried to extract from his hold. “Slow down, I didn’t even finish my dinner.”

His hands greedily twisted in the fabric of your gown, bunching it up to your thighs, you shivered as the cool table was pressed against your ass. Feeling him slipping your panties down your legs, you shifted onto the table, more than willing to help his progress.  

“Babes. I’m hungry. Tonight, you gotta feed me.” His intention was immediately clear and you gasped at his vulgar words. 

Barely able to stutter out a “B-Beetlejuice!” The demon dove into you.

Intense, sudden stimulation to your clit had you reeling. Gripping his magenta hair, trying to find an anchor, you couldn’t stop from moaning out. 

Beetlejuice wasn’t just enthusiastic when he ate you out, he was ravenous. Drooling at your taste, his growls were immediate, low and consistent like a beast. Added vibration from his response made your pussy clench. He just started but already you could already feel the flutters of an impending orgasm,

He certainly wasn’t helping. Face buried deep between your legs you began to hear low murmuring. Deep, rasping praises that you struggled to quiet to hear over his slurping.  

“Mmm….Taste so fucking good, babes… That’s right….. Feed me your sweet cum.” You had to cover your glowing face with your hand. You couldn’t take Beetlejuice’s mouth sometimes. What it said, or what it could do to you. 

That was it. His voice was enough. Lolling your head back, you surrendered as the convulsions overtook your body, pussy spasming as you came. Hard. Your hips swiveled, chasing the bliss. He slowed down to tender licks, but he didn’t stop completely. Your body continued to writhe, trying to push him away with hands to his forehead. His grip only intensified.  

“Ohhh, jesus….. Sweetie. I’m not nearly full yet. You gotta give me more.” His voice was granite. Dark, and tensed through clenched teeth. His face was slick with saliva and cum, trails of the mixture stringing his face to your pussy, glistening his cheeks and your thighs. He was making such a mess of you, and showed no signs of stopping.  

“I-I can’t.. I’m too s-sensitive..” Changing his pace, you could go limp as he gently sucked and licked at your entrance, teasing the walls just inside; running his nose over your swollen lips. 

“I don’t think so, doll…. Hmm…. I think if I stayed like this for who knows… Another hour, you could come at least 4-5 times for me. That would fill me.”

“BJ, no!” Lifting your upper body off the table, you watched as two hands appeared from under his jacket, gripping your wrists to the surface as his own kept your thighs parted. Continuing your desperate pleas, more hands jutted out. Grabbing at your shoulders, your hips. Pinning you down.

Whining, your treacherous body peaked again, just the idea of being at his mercy heady. You loved when he was like this, as vulgar as it was.  

“I know you can do it, babes. Just give me a bit more of you. I need it.” Snarling into your mound, he gave you a small respite and began to nuzzle and nip at your thighs. The hands were also being kind, stroking your skin, running across your nipples teasingly; letting you at least catch your breath before you hyperventilate. 

“What's the safe word?”

“Chartreuse…” You considered using it, you seriously didn’t think you could cum anymore, the pleasure was too intense.

“That’s it, baby. You ready?”

Nodding, he began anew and you sighed at his soft, kitten licks. He knew just how to bring you around and soon you were pulsing, working your way to another climax, pushed harder by Beetlejuice’s minstrasions. 

“You got it…. Just relax…... Daddy gonna take care of you.”

At some point, you lost track of time. Delirious, all you could do was lay there as he continued. 

Beetlejuice alternated between rough, frantic treatment, or tenderly nuzzling into you, playing against your tender inner walls with meaty fingers. Orgasm number three and four reached you at some point, one brought around so softly and sudden you hardly realized you had it at all. 

The pleasure started to move into pain. After shivering through one final eruption, you cried out in slight discomfort and Beetlejuice knew immediately. 

BJ pulled back, multiple hands caressed down your body, making you shudder as they disappeared back under his jacket. Soon enough, it was just his own hands stroking your trembling thighs, shushing you passionately.

“That’s it...Delicious…. Fucking gorgeous little breather….. You did so good, baby.” His voice was wrecked. Nothing more than deep razor blades cutting in the air, reaching your ears from a distance. 

Dazed was an understatement. You were knocked out. Sleeping on your dining room table was a pretty good choice at this very moment, but instead you felt yourself being lifted. He was floating with you in his arms, well you supposed having a demon for a lover had to have its perks. 

He laid you down on your bed and you sighed into the cool sheets against your overstimulated body. Staying there comfortably, you couldn’t even gain the strength to open your eyes to see where the devil disappeared to. 

You jerked as you felt a cool cloth being run around your privates, glancing up at Beetlejuice, rapt in his attention. The aftercare he was giving you never ceased to make your heart swell. He just treated you so well. 

A burst of energy made you intent to return to favour. 

As he leaned over you, you grabbed at his lapels, pulling him down onto you with an ‘oof!’ As you began your descent passed his tummy to his cock, deftly unbuttoning and slipping your hand inside. You weren’t prepared for what met you there.

Beetlejuice was flaccid. The idea that something was terribly wrong with him flashed through your mind before you realized something else. He felt sticky. Heaving out a choked, sensitive sound, he grabbed at your hand to still it. You put two and two together. 

“Did you-?”

“Uh, yeah…….I came like three times during that… I guess I better get these off.” Giggling at his honesty, you watched as he snapped his fingers, transforming from big bad ghost with the most to the snugly little bug you hunkered down with nightly. 

Pajamas you had provided for him when you found out he only owned the one suit…. Yikes. You’d have to ask him for that in the morning to wash. 

Snuggling into your bed, once again thankful for his cooled body against your hotness. You ran your hand through the thick fuzz on his tummy, murmuring words of adoration to each other, you felt safe enough to drift off. Knowing that Beetlejuice would be right where you left him. 

[lifblogs]

Livin In You: Chapter 10

Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Explicit Pairing: Destiel Summary: Castiel is a mental health worker who is just fine with the way his life is. The only thing that really bugs him is how much his co-worker, and friend, Meg, mentions Dean Winchester, the most famous rock star in the modern age. Meg drags him to a concert, and he ends up getting tied into the wild and angsty life of Dean Winchester. Suddenly his old life seems boring, but so much calmer. Suddenly, it matters to him that he’s still a virgin. Suddenly, this rock star that he despised the mention of now matters to him. Dean Winchester is a rock star who’s on top of the world when it comes to music. Yet there’s more that he wants. He misses Lisa and Ben, he craves connection, craves being himself. Any hope for that amidst his alcoholic life all changes when Zachariah, the head exec of Heaven’s Records, pairs with a new exec, Michael Edlund -- the Archangel of Music. Under Michael’s dominance, he’s no longer in control of his own life. There are rules. No more sex with fans. No more alcohol. And in Dean’s view, no more god damn free will. Yet he stumbles into Castiel. Chapter Word Count: 2725

READ ON AO3 | READ ON FF.NET

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5 | CHAPTER 6 | CHAPTER 7 | CHAPTER 8 | CHAPTER 9

Dean had to get up to throw up once or twice in the night, and between all that, he forgot Castiel existed. Sure, he passed his sleeping form with a head of hair that was black in the darkness on his way to the bathroom. But the other man wasn’t nearly as important as his shaking body, and reeling stomach.

Eventually, some time before five A.M., he managed to fall into sleep that wasn’t restless or broken by the after effects of his drunkenness. By the time he fully woke up, the room was dark, the curtains pulled closed so daylight wouldn’t filter through. Dean knew this kind of dark. It was the dark of waking up late. He supposed he didn’t really care. His head hurt, an incessant ache that wouldn’t leave, and his stomach just felt wrong.

He groaned as he rolled over and cracked an eye open.

A bottle of gatorade was on his nightstand, along with two pills of aspirin lying on a tissue.

Garth. His incredibly friendly and chipper assistant must’ve done this.

Dean sat up, took the medicine and started drinking the gatorade. It wasn’t till he felt well enough to walk out into the main living quarters of the hotel suite that he remembered another person was there.

Really, it was the back of Castiel’s head that gave it away.

Was the dude seriously still sleeping?

Dean shrugged after some consideration. Maybe he’s a third shifter. But what to do with him?

That thought hit him hard, and Dean sat down in a chair across from the part of the couch Castiel was sleeping on, open bottle of half-finished gatorade in his hand.

“Shit.”

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, or so vehemently. He must have because Castiel started from sleep, and then turned his head this way and that, eyes wild. He backed away from Dean. But then there was recognition, and he relaxed, but didn’t seem at all pleased.

Well, Dean could take people not liking him… he hoped.

Why didn’t Cas like him? He knew he’d asked him, but it just didn’t make any fucking sense.

He was Dean Winchester!

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Dean quipped. “Want me to call Garth and get us some coffee?”

Castiel started righting himself properly, pulling the blanket up into his lap. He ran a hand through his hair, but it was still a mess, and to Dean it looked a lot like sex-hair. God, it looked good on him.

He nodded.

“Yes, I think that will suffice.”

“You got a fancy way of talking.”

Castiel just gave him a look that said… Actually, Dean didn’t really know what it said. In the daylight, Castiel seemed difficult to read. It made Dean uncomfortable. Who was this man?

And what am I going to do with him?

This wasn’t like the other times Dean had brought people back to his room, not just because he hadn’t slept with him — which was super weird in this instance — but because he wasn’t allowed to be here. His presence would surely get sniffed out. Crowley could’ve talked to Clif already. Though Dean figured Clif wasn’t working with his manager behind his back. He was Dean’s bodyguard. So maybe even if Clif had gotten a call, he wouldn’t run to tell mommy about Dean and his new friend.

But how to keep his new friend hidden?

It also meant there was the issue of the car as well. Dean would have some money missing, and there were witnesses.

Hell, witnesses?

What was he even thinking like?

It wasn’t like it was a crime scene. Okay, aside from crashing his car into Castiel’s, it wasn’t a crime scene.

But Zachariah could smell the original sin on an otherwise innocent baby fifteen miles off. Dean was screwed, especially with Michael as the head honcho now.

God damn it!

Dean’s face must have gone through a lot of transformations because Castiel asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Oh? Uh, nothing.” He walked back over to his bedroom to go grab his phone, and before he closed the doors behind him said, “Just uh… just gonna call Garth.”

With the doors closed, he took a deep breath, and then ran a hand through his hair.

This was crazy. Not his usual brand of crazy. Hell, maybe it wasn’t even that bad.

But then Dean remembered a beer bottle getting taken out of his hand, remembered Zach’s stern — maybe even angry — face. He remembered what he’d told him. He owned Dean now.

Dean went to the far wall and groaned, hanging his head against it. Really, he wanted to use it to bang his head, but most doctors wouldn’t advise that as a way to relieve his headache.

Dean straightened, closing his eyes.

Was it worth a shot?

No, definitely not.

So Dean got out his phone, and called Garth. He could do the shouting thing he’d done the night before, but in hindsight that had seemed rude. His drunk self obviously hadn’t cared.

“Morning, Dean Bean! Well, hmm… oh no, it’s not noon yet, but cutting it pretty close there. What’s up?”

“Wondering if you could get me and my friend some coffee. And uh, you were in here earlier, right?”

“Was I?”

“Gatorade, aspirin,” Dean added.

“Oh no, silly, that was your friend there. He was up earlier and asked me to pick those things up for you. He grabbed them at the door, brought them to your room himself.”

That had Dean pause in what he was about to say.

Cas had done that? He’d thought about him?

That started to make Dean feel guilty for practically kidnapping the guy. Or had it been the other way around? He’d been the drunk one after all. Huh, how did that work? There was another emotion there too, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. It was pretty foreign to him, or had been in the couple of years since he’d left Ben. Was it… affection?

No, that would be bullshit. He’d just met the guy last night, and part of him still wanted to sleep with him. This was just a messed up situation.

“Dean-o? De-ean!”

“Hmm, what? Yeah.”

“You all good?”

“Yeah, um… Coffee. You know the regular I like, and for him, just make sure to bring packets of sugar and cream and stuff, I don’t really know what he likes.”

“Okie dokie. See you in ten.”

“Five?”

“Dean, I don’t control the pace at which the world runs.”

“Okay, ten,” he relented. “And, oh, is Sam up?”

“I’m not his assistant too, Dean. 

“Okay, but he’s famous by association. I know you and Clif keep tabs on him when he’s not staying underground.”

“Yes, he’s up.”

“Cool, thanks.”

Despite feeling like shit, Dean took the opportunity of some private time to get dressed. Nothing fancy. For him nothing fancy stil came out to a thousand dollars or more per outfit, but it was just jeans, a black undershirt, a white and blue flannel, and a leather jacket. The boots were nice too. Custom-made combat boots with gold inlays.

“Great, now I feel underdressed,” Castiel said as Dean walked back into the room.

“Uh… I have some jeans,” he told him, plopping down on the couch beside his… whatever he was.

Cas made a face. “Not sure they’d fit.”

Dean smiled, glancing at Cas’ hips and legs. He whacked him playfully on the thigh. “Come on, you should be able to squeeze those into a pair. Not like you’re fat. You’re just…” Dean couldn’t think of the word, and trailed off. Thick, muscular, large, beautiful. Yeah, all of that. Fuck. “Yeah, body’s shaped differently. But come on, I can get my bowlegs into these, you should be fine.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and sighed, brushing Dean’s hand off of his leg.

“Fine.”

“Bottom drawer,” Dean said helpfully as Castiel went into his room.

Part of Dean wanted to follow him, wanted to watch him take off those sweatpants, or maybe even take them off for him. The jeans he was wearing were ripped at the knees, but he figured the skin of his knees would be fine with a bit of friction on the floor. Rugburn didn’t hurt too badly, not as bad as his hand still did. At least he’d somehow managed to get that taped and bandaged up. There was an ace wrap around it as well. So he was still able to function, use it for some things, just not all the sexy things going through his head at the moment.

Dean was drawn from his sensual reverie as there was a knock on the door. He went and answered it, apprehensive, gut twisting.

This was it.

Crowley knew. Zach knew. He was going to lose his dream, everything.

Dean sighed in relief, leaning against the open door when he saw it was just Sam. He was dressed in dress pants, a white button-up shirt, and a tie. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow. In one hand was a yellow legal pad, a pen pressed between that and the crook of his thumb.

“What, you lawyering today or something?” Dean asked.

“Yes. The contract’s going to be sent over, and we have business to discuss apparently.”

Dean just stared at him, contemplating slamming the door in his face. Reality was not fun right now. He glanced back at his gatorade he’d left on the coffee table. Was there anyone around who could pull a Jesus and turn it into alcohol? Huh, maybe Sam. He had the look, what with the scruff and the hair and all.

Eventually Sam said, “Morning. Or…” He held up his wrist, looking at his watch. “Actually, no. Good afternoon.”

Dean rolled his eyes, and then let Sam in.

“Thanks for coming,” he eventually said, relenting, knowing it wasn’t his brother’s fault that any of this was happening.

But shit, he’d forgotten about the contract.

“You want anything to drink?” Dean asked, playing the gracious host.

“Nah, I’m good.”

Dean settled back down on the couch with his gatorade, and Sam eyed the blanket, taking a seat away from it.

Dean ignored the look, though he surely wanted answers. “So who’s dropping off the contract?”

“Don’t know.”

“When’ll they be here?”

“One.”

Dean sighed at that. Okay, he had some time to get Cas out of his hair.

A drawer slammed shut, and there was some cursing. Sam straightened, looking at the doors to Dean’s bedroom.

“Who else is here?” he asked.

Dean shrugged. “A friend.”

Sam looked at Dean, then back at the doors, then Dean again.

“Is it that guy from last night? Dean, tell me you didn’t.”

“I didn’t.”

Sam’s eyebrows, which had been furrowed with concern, now rose in a disbelieving look.

“He’s getting dressed. You can ask him yourself when he comes out. But” — Dean broke up his speech with a long swallow of gatorade — “I need to get rid of him somehow. Or, I don’t know, hide him. I kinda like having him around.”

“Dean, you’re not supposed to—”

“Like I said, I didn’t.”

“And okay, then what about the issue from last night? What exactly am I risking my license for today?”

“Car accident.”

“Are you serious?!”

That was when Castiel slid open the doors and walked back into the room. Dean noticed that the knuckles of his right hand were red, like they’d gotten slammed in a drawer. That must’ve been what had happened.

“Uh…”

That was Castiel, and Sam was already being business-like, getting up and going over to shake his hand.

“Sam Winchester,” he said. “And you are? I didn’t get your name from Dean yet.”

“Castiel,” he said, and then added, “uh… Novak.”

“So what’s the situation?” Sam asked.

The poor guy looked like a deer caught in headlights, so Dean went over and grabbed him, having him sit beside him. He couldn’t tell if Castiel liked that or not; he seemed neutral about it more than anything. Dean was far from neutral. He’d gotten a good look at Castiel in his jeans, and god, had it been a mistake to tell him he’d fit? He didn’t exactly, but wow, he looked damn good. The material hugged his body, and somewhere in Dean started pulsing as he eyed the unmistakable bulge of his denim-wrapped groin. Dean figured if Cas turned around he’d see the clothing hug his ass too, just like it did in the front and to his thighs.

Dean eyed him even as they sat together. He hadn’t noticed he’d drifted off and started biting on his bottom lip, till he heard Castiel talking about what had happened.

Thank god he was taking the lead. Dean still had a headache.

He zoned out till Garth arrived with the coffee, and as he started back over, Sam reprimanded, “You were supposed to come right back to the hotel.”

“What are you, my babysitter?” he snapped. 

He passed Castiel his coffee and packets of cream and sugar and sat back down. Dean had a sip of his own coffee, and saw Cas start preparing his the way he liked it.

Sam just breathed deeply and gave Dean a sympathetic look. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Dean, or-or… control you like what everyone else wants to do. I just want you to be careful. I know how much your music means to you.”

Dean argued, “Think having my own life is pretty important too.”

“That’s not what—”

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Castiel asked. “What’s happening?”

Sam and Dean immediately shut up, and Dean turned to Cas with big eyes. Shit, he hadn’t meant for any of this to come up around him. They were just supposed to talk about Castiel’s car and the insurance company.

“Not important,” he eventually said.

Castiel didn’t just shrug it off as he expected. Instead, the strange man gave him a look that seemed to say a million things at once: I understand. I’m here if you need to talk. You’re not alone.

Dean’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at that handsome face and into those startlingly blue eyes.

How the hell could he do that?

Sam cleared his throat, and both turned back to him.

“We can discuss it later,” Sam said. “And uh… Castiel, I’m not sure how good of a friend of my brother’s you are. I—”

Cas: “Oh, we just met last night. When he crashed his car into mine.”

Sam gave a tight smile, “Lovely.”

Dean wanted to roll his eyes at the tension he saw in Sam, but he didn’t. His brother was doing a big thing for him. Dean could at least repay him by not being an asshole for a couple of minutes.

The discussion was exhausting, but they eventually got it all sorted out, Sam taking notes on his yellow legal pad, and after a few Sam-dominated phone calls with various people and insurance agents, it was all settled.

And according to his watch it was one P.M.

Fuck.

There was a knock on the door.

Dean’s eyes went wide, and he grabbed Cas in a panic, while another hand reached out for his brother, as if he wanted to grab him to hide behind.

“Shit, shit. Cas, you gotta go.”

“Go where? I can’t leave, unless you have any ideas as to how I could survive the drop from the window.”

Dean got him up, pushing him over to the bedroom. “Bedroom,” he urged. “Stay quiet.”

Sam was going to get the door.

Dean tried sliding the bedroom doors closed, but Castiel held on just before they were about to obscure his face.

“What’s happening?”

“Nothing. Let you out soon, and uh… maybe get in the closet?”

“The closet? Dean!”

Footsteps sounded. Dean closed the doors, and then turned. He fixed his outfit, making it look like he’d just come out of his room from getting dressed and was straightening his clothes.

The man who had arrived was wearing white dress shoes. It was the first thing Dean noticed, and as his gaze traveled upwards, he stopped dead.

“Mr. Edlund.”

The dark-haired man with glimmering blue eyes who held a thick packet of papers smiled. “Please, call me Michael.”

[queen-scribbles]

Small Price to Pay

Started with wanting to fic when Heodan saved Adi outside the back door to  Clîaban Rilag, kinda spiraled into something a lot bigger. WHOOPS. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯   I REGRET NOTHING

---

The journey to Clîaban Rilag was uneventful, and would have been downright pleasant if not for the intermittent rain showers. Even those could have been worse, as it was still warm enough to keep them from being truly uncomfortable, and none lasted long. The true threat to their progress--and once or twice their safety--proved to be Adela’s curious nature. There was just so much flora and fauna in the Dyrwood she’d never seen in Ixamitl, she veered off the road for “just a quick look” more times than she could count. Most of those times resulted in no more than a few minutes lost each, but one disturbed a pair of wood beetles, young things and easily dealt with, and not far past the Dyrford Crossing, she started for a patch of tall-stemmed flowers only to have Kana yank her away by the back of her dress--just ahead of the lunge from a stelgaer she hadn’t seen. It was not happy to lose an easy lunch, and put up a decent fight before Aloth and Pallegina managed to kill it.

“Perhaps it is better we keep to the road, ac?” Pallegina asked with a pointedly raised brow as she wiped her sword blade clean on the stelgaer’s coat before re- sheathing it.

“Sorry,” Adela said with a sheepish smile. “There’s just so much that’s new here, and these are so pretty...” she gestured toward the flowers. “But I have been slowing us down and would hate for any of you to get hurt ‘cause of me.”

“We’re used to buildin’ in time for you to explore,” Edér consoled, shooting her a wink. “An’ no harm done, right? Now c’mon, we can make a couple hours’ progress ‘fore it starts gettin’ dark.”

Despite his reassurance, Adela cast a guilty look at the dead stelgaer. Sure, no one had gotten hurt thanks to her--this time--but what if there had been more than one? A full grown stelgaer was nothing to sneeze at, and even alone this one had come uncomfortably close to both Kana and Heodan. If it had help...

Adela shuddered and twisted the ring that encircled her index finger, nails dragging over the inset blue stones. But it had been alone, and none of her friends had so much as a scratch, and what had turned her into such a worrywart? She glanced over her shoulder at the kith following her lead and a blush climbed her cheeks. She knew what. Or, rather, who. But that was ridiculous, just a silly crush, and he was plenty capable of taking care of himself-

She tripped over a wheel rut in the road and was sharply reminded getting distracted was a bad idea. Better to pay attention now and let her thoughts run rampant after they made camp. When no one would get hurt as a result(unless, maybe, she was the one cooking).

Edér was right; they pulled a couple more hours of travel from the day before shadows reached telltale length and they made camp in a meadow. Edér volunteered to make dinner, which meant there was nothing required of her until her shift at watch. Adela pulled out a book, as usual, and tried to read, as usual. But tonight her thoughts kept drifting  to the crouching stelgaer, Kana’s hand twisting in the fabric of her dress to yank her out of the danger, Edér’s loud whoop as he’d charged forward to take the brunt of the threat.

I really need to be more careful, she chastised herself, tracing the lettering of a chapter title with her fingertip before she resumed the attempt at reading. Instead, she remained so lost in thought she didn’t even hear the approaching footsteps and started slightly when Heodan sat next to her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked without preamble.

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” Adela asked innocently, letting the book lay against her lap as she looked up at him.

He nudged her book. “To start, you’ve been on the same page for five minutes, so clearly you’re distracted. Given that you’ve also been far quieter than usual for the past couple hours, it seems a safe bet something’s wrong.” He gave her a faint, crooked smile. “If you want to talk...”

He knew her entirely too well, and Wael’s eyes, it wasn’t fair(no matter how warm it made her inside). Adela tried to smile. “Well, you know me, I always wanna talk.”

“About what’s bothering you,” Heodan clarified, running one hand through his hair and leaving it an even more tousled mess than usual.

She hesitated a beat, but it wasn’t like this was some deep, dark secret or anything. “I just feel bad my curiosity put all of you at risk. I do love learning and experiencing new things, but I’d hate for someone else to get hurt in the process.”

“Considering you’re the one who was almost pinned by a hungry stelgaer, I’d say your curiosity came a lot closer to hurting you than any of us,” he pointed out wryly, playing with a frayed spot on his shirtsleeve. “We don’t want to see you get hurt, either.”

She snorted and flipped the book closed so she could brace an elbow against the cover and rest her chin in her palm. “Guess the only solution’s for me to be less curious, huh?” Somehow...

“No.” From the way Heodan’s cheeks colored, he maybe hadn’t meant to say it quite so vehemently. He dropped his gaze to his sleeve, picking harder at the frayed spot and biting his lip. “Even assuming you could be less curious, that would be...” He sighed, glanced sideways to meet her gaze. “The world needs kith who are curious, Adi. Who question and explore and learn everything they can about anything they can. They’re the ones who preserve history and bring progress. Kith like you are...” His gaze dropped back to the ever-growing hole he’d picked in his sleeve. “Well, rare. And for you to curb such a part of yourself, especially such an important part of yourself, out of fear would be a shame.”

Adela huffed her bangs out of her eyes and sighed, even as her heart fluttered.  “I just don’t want you, any of you, getting hurt for my sake.”

He shrugged. “The Dyrwood itself is dangerous, not to mention this... quest?... we’re on, you being excited about new flowers or ancient ruins is less likely to put us in harm’s way than most of the things we deliberately seek out. And I feel relatively safe in saying we don’t mind chasing off the occasional extra stelgaer, or steering you away from a bog.” He nudged her shoulder and smiled encouragingly. “It’s what friends do, isn’t it? And it’s a small price to pay for... for letting you be you.”

Hound’s teeth, her face was so warm the blush had to be showing through her fur. Adela straightened, her hand moving to pick at the carved lines in her necklace pendent, tracing the details of the elephant as she tried to think of a response that was both coherent and not too revealing.The sunset light glinting off the sliver band around his pinkie kept distracting her; its purpose likely to be called upon if she wasn’t more careful. After several long seconds of struggling silence, she decided simplicity was the order of the day and smiled at him.  “Thank you, Heodan. That... means a lot.” Especially from you. She knew any of her friends would likely say the same, but, well... he was the one she worried about most. What with her feelings and everything they’d been through together.

Heodan smiled. “You’re most welcome. Now...” He grimaced self-deprecatingly at the hole he’d made in his sleeve. “I should probably go see what I can do about this.”

“Alright,” she nodded, reluctant to lose his company but unable to think up an excuse for him to stay. “Good luck.”

He chuckled as he stood. “Thank you.”

Adela watched him walk away before returning to her book, soul now settled enough she could at least concentrate. Funny how easily he managed to do that.

---

The evening remained uneventful, and the few lingering clouds even cleared up, giving them a clear view of the stars as the sunset faded to the deep purple-black of night. Between the three of them sharing watch duty, Adela drew the last slot, which meant she got to catch some sleep before essentially just being a slightly earlier riser than usual. She was almost as pleased to have drawn that watch as Edér was to have avoided it--”Just ‘cause I can drag myself outta bed before the sun doesn’t mean I like doin’ it”--and came awake easily when it was her turn. Things stayed quiet, as they had all night, so by halfway through her watch, she had wandered out into the meadow and collected several handfuls of the deep pinkish-purple flowers growing nearby. It was an unfamiliar one to her, but the waxy blossoms were only slightly smaller than her palm, with slender but tough stems, making them perfect for weaving into a crown. Which she did, the movements such habit by now she didn’t even have to take her eyes off the surroundings as she worked. By the time her friends pulled themselves awake shortly after sunrise, Adela sported an expertly woven circlet of pink-purple blooms and was braiding the stems of the leftovers into a small bouquet.

“Kept yourself occupied, I see,” Kana said with a toothy smile and a nod toward the circlet.

“Gotta have something to do that didn’t take too much of my attention,” she said cheerfully. “I can make these in my sleep, so it seemed a good choice.”

“No arguments here,” Kana chuckled.

Adela giggled as she tucked the small cluster of extra blooms in the end of her braid. “So glad you approve.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Edér chipped in, still yawning. “Look right nice on you. Whadda we got for breakfast? Everything comin’ today, I wanna face it with a full stomach.”

She couldn’t blame him for that, but, “Nothing fancy. I figured the earlier we got moving the better, so traveler’s bread and jerked venison.”

“Nothin’ wrong with that,” he grinned and helped her divvy it up.

They packed camp as they ate, and were ready to start within an hour of everyone being awake. Part of her hated to rush them, but with the early start, they could reach Clîaban Rilag, do what they needed to for both Edér’s sake and following the Leaden Key, and be headed back toward Dyrford inside a day. Given how much they had to do, that was for the best. Though she did hope they had time to explore a little. Surely there was a lot to be gained just from looking around an Engwithan ruin. She could leave everything where it was and still learn so much.

As they set off on the last hour or so of travel to the ruins, she caught Heodan looking at her with a smile tugging at his lips and couldn’t help but smile back.  “What?”

He nodded toward the flower crown. “I see your mood’s improved.”

Adela chuckled as she instinctively brushed her fingers against the petals. “It has. Mostly thanks to you.”

He shook his head. “I think it far more likely that it’s just hard for you to stay gloomy for long.”

“Well, true as that may be,” she said by way of tacit concession, “what you said last night definitely helped.”

Heodan smiled again. “Happy to help. Your curiosity isn’t a weakness, or a danger, and I’d hate for you to view it as such.”

“I don’t,” she assured him, playing with the tail  of her braid. “But I am gonna try to be a little more careful. For all our sakes.”

“That’s fair,” he chuckled.

“And appreciated,” Aloth chipped in from nearby.

Adela wrinkled her nose and her ears twitched back. “I am really sorry for the thing with the oozes, but I didn’t know what kind of reach they had, and this is about my fifth time apologizing in two weeks-”

“Adela, I wasn’t referring to anything specific,” he interjected before she really got going. “Just general relief you’ll be more careful, even if just a little.”

“Oh.” Said something about how guilty she (still) felt that that’s the first place her thoughts went when Aloth commented on her being careful. She rubbed the back of her neck. “Yeah. I know it won’t remove all our risks, but at least I won’t be adding to them.” She paused a beat, then played with a loose wisp of hair as she asked. “Oh, didja finish transcribing that spell you were working on last night?”

Aloth nodded, and the conversation almost seamlessly swung to the spells both of them were learning and still wanting to figure out. Somewhere in there, Adela noticed Heodan had wandered away and felt vaguely guilty she hadn’t really finished her conversation with him. But, really, they’d said everything important, she’d have plenty of time to talk to him later; it wasn’t as if either of them was going anywhere.

---

It wasn’t really a surprise when they caught a glimpse of the Glanfathan hunters clustered in front of the looming doors to Clîaban Rilag, just confirmed the importance Adela had already suspected it held. They gave the knot of kith and beasts a wide berth, and instead fanned out to look for detritus left from the battle fought here during the Saint’s War. She’d help Edér first--if she could--and then worry about how to handle venturing into the ruins themselves.

“Hope we don’t get mistaken for looters again,” Heodan commented with a mirthless smile as he helped Adela check through an overgrown tangle of weeds.

“Saw them, too, huh?” she side with a wry laugh.

“They’re hard to miss,” he deadpanned.

“Considering we do actually need to go in there,” she grunted, straining to reach something shiny trapped in the roots of the weeds, “they’re closer to correct than the ones who attacked the caravan, but I’m aiming to disturb as little as possible inside. Ah!” Her fingers closed around curved metal and she yanked free a Readceran heraldry talisman. Unfortunately with no traces of soul essence lingering, but at least it confirmed there were still things here to find. 

“Do you really think that will be enough for them? Assuming they even believe you?” Heodan asked quietly as they moved toward the stream that flowed through the clearing.

“Based off our previous experience?” Adela looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. “Why d’you think I’m putting off talking to them? Part of me’s hoping there’s another way in,” she admitted as the group forded the stream. “But one thing at a time. We’ll worry about that after we find something to help Edér.”

“If we can,” the farmer interjected in a disgruntled mutter, kicking a rock. “Don’t look like there’s much left, Adi.”

“Don’t give up so fast,” she admonished cheerfully. “There’s still plenty of ground left to cover.”

Edér grinned. “You’re such an optimist.”

“Yep,” Adela chirped, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. “Also, I just have a feeling we’re gonna find something.”

“I’ve learned not to argue with your intuition,” Edér said with a grin and a shrug as he went back to looking.

“Do you really?” Heodan whispered.

“‘Course I do,” Adela whispered back. “I wouldn’t lie just to make him feel better. We’ll find something, you’ll see.”

And they did; a Readceran standard crown that sang with hints of a soul very similar to Edér. They’d had to fight some looters for it, but given the men proved to be anti-Eothasian zealots, and attacked first, Adela found it hard to be terribly broken up over their deaths. Especially not when she saw the hope in Edér’s eyes as he stared at the standard crown.

“Is that...?” he started, before letting the words trail off, as if it were too fantastic as a concept to even voice.

“I feel Woden’s soul on it, yes,” she confirmed with a smile, brushing dirt off the metal sun’s rays. “But there isn’t enough for me to Watch. We’ll take it with us, next time we visit Dunryd Row maybe one of the ciphers can help.”

“Sure. I think I got room...” Edér slung off his pack and opened it. It took a little rearranging, but the standard crown did fit inside. “Thanks, Adi. Now that you’ve managed one thing that should be impossible, guess that’s next?” He jerked a thumb toward the looming ruins, moss and vines covering the walls. 

“It is the other reason we’re here...” Adela sighed. She really wasn’t looking forward to talking her way past the Glanfathans guarding the doors.

“You know, Adi,” Kana began, as if sensing her reluctance, “there a door here as well.” He pointed and she a double take, staring at the section of wall that caught his attention.

Sure enough, hidden by plant growth, she could vaguely see the outline of a door. “Good eye, Kana. One problem...” It was Adela’s turn to point, drawing his attention to the collapsed bridge and the gap between them and the door. “How do we get across?”

“We could just jump,” he half-shrugged. “It doesn’t look to be more than four or five feet, shouldn’t be hard to clear.”

Adela bit her lip as she sized up the gap. He was right; it wasn’t that big. Kana could easily clear it, Edér, Heodan, and Pallegina would be fine as well, and even Aloth was likely tall enough it wouldn’t be a problem. She was the only one who might have trouble. She’d jumped over streams almost that wide before, though. Granted, with the deep ravine the bridge had spanned, the stakes were higher than simply getting her clothes wet. The alternative, however, was trying to navigate a conversation with the Glanfathans guarding the main door.

“Alright, worth a shot,” she said.

Heodan and Aloth frowned almost in unison. “Are you sure-”

“It’ll be fine,” Adela cut them off with a wry smile. “Easier than negotiating with the locals, anyway.” Neither seemed to have their worries assuaged, but they didn’t protest further. “Who’s going first?”

“I’ll do it,” Pallegina volunteered in the same moment Kana started to raise his hand. She smirked, and made an ‘after you’ gesture. “It is your idea, aimico.”

“Very well,” Kana chuckled. He took a couple steps back to gain some momentum, pushed off the edge, and easily cleared the gap. His feet skidded a little on the lichen-slicked stone, but he regained his balance quickly and gestured for them to join him before turning his attention to clearing off the door. 

One by one, her other companions followed without incident. Heodan did pause to shoot her a wordless look of concern, but Adela met it with a reassuring smile. It was sweet that he worried, but it would be fine. She could do this.

Even if the distance seemed to double when she looked at it with the knowledge she had to jump across that.

You can do this, she told herself firmly, and then backed up for a running start. Before she knew it, she’d covered the ground and was pushing off what remained of the bridge abutment. Just as her feet left the ground, her flower crown started to slip, and she instinctively grabbed for it with one hand.

She did make it across, if just barely. But before relief for that fact had time to register, the stone under her feet shifted and cracked and she pitched backward with a yelp. The depths of the ravine were rushing toward her, there was nothing to grab-

A hand closed around her wrist, and she jolted to a wrenching stop just below the lip of the bridge, heart pounding and tears stinging her eyes from the sudden stress on her arm.

And a sharp grunt of pain that wasn’t from her echoing in her ears. Her head snapped up to look, and her gaze locked with Heodan’s wide blue eyes. Pain and raw fear were competing for dominance in his expression, his face almost as white as his knuckles as he tightened his grip on her wrist.

“Don’t let go,” he managed between gritted teeth.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” The attempted joke came out brittle and shaky, terror of what almost happened still sharp in her mind--sharper when she looked down and saw just how dizzyingly far she could have fallen.

“Adi, Adi don’t look.”Heodan’s fingers flexed and his voice caught her attention upwards once more. “Don’t look,” he repeated softly, and she nodded.

The few seconds before Edér and Kana reached down to help her scramble up seemed to take an eternity, but Adela did find herself on solid ground once more. Hoedan had released her arm soon as the others had a good grip, and when she was steady on her feet, he was the first place her gaze went.

He was sitting curled forward protectively, jaw clearly set tight as Pallegina felt at his shoulder. She paused in her examination and turned toward Adela.

“Are you alright?” she all but demanded.

Funny, that’s what I was about to ask him. Adela nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “Really, really rattled, maybe a few bruises” --she rubbed her wrist--”but otherwise fine.”

“Sorry,” Heodan managed, gaze fixed on her hands.

Adela snorted. “That’s a new one; never had anyone apologize for saving my life before.”

“No-” He tried to sit straighter, uncurl the arm held close to his chest, and stopped with a sharp breath. “I-If I hurt you...”

“I’ll live,” Adela chuckled wryly. “Literally thanks to you. Bruises are nothing, small price to pay. I’m more worried about you.” She started to rest a hand on his arm, but yanked it back when the barest touch made him flinch. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll get out of the way.” She backed up a step, glancing toward where Kana and Aloth had resumed clearing off the door. Maybe I should help them...

Pallegina muttered a frustrated comment in her mother tongue, then, “I think it’s dislocated. Fortunately, that is not hard to fix. Edér?”

“Yeah?” He pushed away from the rocks he’d been leaning against.

“I will need your help.”

“Sure.”

Adela ears twitched and she started to move further away, feeling more like a hindrance than a help.

“Adi.” Heodan caught her arm with his good hand. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Wish I could say the same,” she replied softly, flicking a glance to his shoulder.

“It’s not that bad. I’ll be fine,” He flashed a crooked smile. “And it was worth it, anyway.”

“Aw, ain’t that sweet,” Edér drawled, shooting them both a knowing smile before she had a chance to reply.

“That’s not what he meant!” Adela said hastily, fur ruffling. How hot was she blushing? Obviously Heodan hadn’t meant it... the way Edér was implying. No matter how badly she might want it, that wasn’t the case. Was it? No, Adi, don’t get your hopes up, we’ve talked about this. “It’s just ‘cause we’re friends.”

(But if that was the case, why were Heodan’s ears red? And where’d that flush creeping up his neck come from? Probably just embarrassment, right? Like hers.)

Edér just grinned. “Sure, friendship’s sweet. Whadidja think I meant?”

Adela rolled her eyes. “I’m going to go help Kana.” She didn’t want to watch what was about to happen, anyway. It would just make her feel guilty for something that wasn’t truly her fault.

Between the three of them, she, Kana, and Aloth(mostly Kana) had a good portion of the door clear by the time Edér and Pallegina finished fixing Heodan’s shoulder(and even if she wasn’t watching, that hadn’t been fun to listen to, either). With the overgrowth cleared and any decorative carvings recorded, the... less physically gifted members of the group got to hand Edér a prybar and let him and Kana try to work the door open.

Adela perched on a rocky outcropping near where Heodan sat as they waited, watching him flex and test the previously injured arm. “Everything alright?”

He nodded, rocking his wrist back and forth. “Relatively. It’s still sore, but that’s to be expected, isn’t it? I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He caught her skeptical expression and chuckled. “Really, Adi, it will.” He gave a lopsided smile. “And look on the bright side; it wasn’t because of your curiosity.”

“You still got hurt,” she shot back. “How is that a bright side?”

Heodan shrugged. “It’s not that bad. And you didn’t.” He raised a brow and nodded in her direction. “You did lose your flowers, though.”

“Oh.” Adela raised a hand to her hair. She hadn’t even noticed. But the crown of pink-purple blooms was indeed gone, vanished into the depths of the ravine when she fell. “Small price to pay.” She pulled her braid over her shoulder, grinned when she saw the small bouquet still securely tied at the end. “And I still have these. Heodan...” She rested a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”

He smiled shyly. “Small price to pay. You’re my friend, and I’d hate to lose you.”

Her heart fluttered. Stop that, Adela scolded herself. He literally just said friend. But hearts were funny things, and hers didn’t much feel like listening right now. “So...” she began, resting her chin on her palm and glancing toward the doors that were just beginning to edge open under Edér and Kana’s efforts. ”What do you think is in there? Aside from, probably, another one of those machines the Leaden Key’s using to make life difficult.”

Heodan laughed. “I couldn’t even begin to guess. But we’ll see soon enough, won’t we?”

Adela cocked her head. “I will. But don’t you think it’s better you... stay out here?” So you don’t get hurt again...

“Adi.” He shot her a curious look. “Isn’t the point of me... following along on these adventures to help you? Can’t do that very well if you’re in there and I’m out here, can I?”

“Heodan, much as my area of expertise is not medicine, even I know you’re supposed to rest as part of the healing process for dislocated limbs.” She pushed to her feet, making them roughly eye level, and crossed her arms as she tried to stare him down.

“It was only partially dislocated,” Heodan countered(he was nice enough to stay sitting). “It went right back in joint with a little nudge, and it’s just sore now.” As if to demonstrate, he reached out with that hand and playfully flicked at her bangs.

Adela felt a smile coming despite the worry that gnawed her mind, but bit it back. “Yes, and it might not stay ‘just sore’ if you make it worse by stabbing things.” 

“A compromise, then,” he offered, glancing toward the rest of their party as the doors opened. “I will keep the... ‘stabbing things’ to a minimum and focus more on disarming traps and such that we find. How’s that?  We’re not splitting the group, I’ll be there if you need me, but be doing lighter work and try my best to stay out of fights so I don’t overwork that arm.”

She bit her lip as he looked at her expectantly. She did want him along, she just didn’t want him getting hurt again. Of course, it wasn’t necessarily that much safer out here, with the Glanfathans guarding the main door just barely out of earshot. “I.... guess that would be alright. And I’ll try not to let my curiosity run away with me in there.”

“A tall order,” Heodan said with a smile, pushing to his feet and pulling his pack back on--with just the tiniest wince as the strap went over his injured shoulder.  “Sure you can manage?”

“Not at all,” she laughed, “hence the try.”

All jokes aside, she mused as Edér and Kana hauled the doors open wide enough for passage, We really will need to be careful in there. There’s probably a lot of nasty surprises to be found, if I know anything about the Engwithans. And I’d hate for any of them to get hurt because I just had to look at a fresco or invention or something. ....Especially him.

 Reining in her curiosity was a small price to pay for her friends’ safety. And as she accepted the lit torch Edér offered her and led the way into the ruin, Adela decided it was one she was happy to pay.

[pilawforhire-archived]

Making sure Law is asleep - on the sofa, an open book under his limp hand - Ace grabs a lipstick he'd found on his way home and starts painting pink hearts on Law's cheeks. Were it the other way around, Law would have plenty of canvas on Ace's torso but alas, Law would not be shirtless as often as his roomie and Ace had only so much space to colour. He kept his hearts as small as the tip of the lipstick allowed.

His pulse pounded in his ears, so loud that for a second, Ace wondered if a poltergeist was hammering on their walls or an intruder had invaded their home. But Ace was a determined fellow. With a goal in mind, nothing would stop him, not even some vengeful spirit consumed by wrath. Thus, his vision tinted by a pair of swimming goggles, several beads of sweat streaming down his back under the large yellow raincoat, Ace tiptoed toward the living area in his diving fins that went flap-flap-flap. He pretended he was an underwater undercover agent, surveilling the great Roo in his afternoon slumber. Luckily for Ace, Law had passed out in a deep sleep after staying up too long and exhausting himself comatose.

Anyone familiar with Ace should know: boredom and Ace was often a disastrous recipe for quality mischief. In Ace’s defence, however, Law was presenting himself a temptable target for a harmless, innocent prank. Much like a huge, enticing puddle that beckoned one to jump in. You knew it could be dangerous but you only had one life to live! Just look at Law, sprawled out on the sofa, his head tilted so far back his neck was completely exposed. His mouth was wide open and he even snored audibly. If Ace loved Law less, he would have dumped bread into that temptable mouth that always protested so stubbornly and strongly, expressing his vehement hatred, for the ‘doughy gluten abomination’ – Law’s words.

Lipstick clutched in hand like a dagger, Ace crouched hidden behind the couch. Stealthily, with the Jaws’ theme song playing in his head, Ace rose to his feet, inch by inch by inch until the top of his head peeked out just slightly. Ace peered down at Law, and he whispered in Law’s ear, “Wakey wakey, Roo…” When Law did not budge, Ace’s smile widened with glee. “Oh, Roo. I’m gonna make you pretty.” Ace began to doodle multiple pink hearts all over Law’s face. As the number increased and Law’s cheeks were decorated with heart after heart, Ace’s heart beat faster and faster. He felt like he was on a rollercoaster climbing slowly to the top. At any moment, the plunge would happen. Law would wake and scream. Except --- Ace had no idea if he should be delighted or disappointed --- Law only stirred a little before he went back to sleep, dead like a log. Uninterrupted by the enemy, underwater undercover agent Ace concluded his mission with a hundred percent success rate stamped across his report. Beaming proudly, Ace slunk away to wait for the epic finale starring Trafarroo D. Roo.

Sleeping Beauty Law woke an hour later. He yawned loudly and stretched out satisfyingly on the sofa before he eased himself to sit upright. Blearily, he glanced around but Ace was nowhere to be seen. Law rubbed his eyes and licked his lips. A glimpse at the clock and a rumbling of his stomach suggested dinner time was close. Law dragged himself to the kitchen and dug through the cupboards and the fridge. He opened and shut the fridge door three times repeatedly until he gave up and wandered in search of Ace.

Law called out. “Hey, let’s go for d---” He didn’t have to go far. Ace bounced toward Law happily. They nearly collided before Law staggered a step back. “…Dinner…” Law continued. He eyed Ace’s expression suspiciously.

Ace had a weird look on his face. His lips were tightly pressed together. They did a little dance as Ace stared brightly at Law. Law hated being paranoid but he couldn’t help feeling like Ace was trying his hardest to suppress his laughter. Slightly unnerved, Law combed his fingers through his hair over and over until he was certain no misbehaving tuft was sticking out. Then he forced himself to drop the matter. Ace could be overly excited about the smallest things: candy, free toys, food, cartoons… The better question was, could there be anything that didn’t excite Ace?

Ace shielded his mouth with his hand. Pulling his best poker face, he said, “Wha---Roo? How was your nap? You were out a long while. I was worried I’d have to kiss you awake!”

“…It was good,” Law said flatly. There was rarely an intonation in his voice unless he was screaming bloody murder. “We’re leaving now, I’m hungry.” Law turned halfway, when Ace hastily jumped in front of him.

“Wa---Roo, don’t you think---”

“What?” Law raised an eyebrow.

“You should probably go pee? You just woke. Honestly, don’t come wailing about a bursting bladder lat---”

“I think I’m fine.” Law frowned, trying to sidestep Ace. “When have I ever complain---”

“Fine, it’s your loss!” Ace huffed, crossing his arms. So much for trying to do the good thing and warn Law about his facial graffiti. It was not his intention to embarrass Law in public. If Law allowed himself to step out the house looking like a deranged lovesick maniac, the police would be all over him in a heartbeat! “Roo, there’s someth---” The door slammed, cutting off Ace’s second attempt. Without wasting another second, Ace ran out after Law.

“Dude, I was talking! Rood!” Ace exclaimed, jogging up to Law. He gave Law’s side a playful punch. “So where are we going? In such a hurry?”

“Round the corner… Maybe the Thai place.” Law checked his watch. It was still early; the dinner crowd would not be for another hour or so, but that didn’t mean they should dally. When he needed to eat, denying himself could lead to perpetual grouchiness worse than the usual. However, a strange occurrence had Law slowing his brisk pace. As they strode down the street, Law’s hand held loosely in Ace’s, passers-by dodged them left and right like they were the plague. Law got the sense they were trapped in some nightmare, wherein one awoke and the entire human race had been invaded by aliens. Aliens controlled the minds of the humans and he and Ace were the last to be ‘infected’. Unless --- Law jerked his head toward Ace. Law swallowed hard.

Ace stared back at Law guiltily. Still, he feigned nonchalance. “What, Roo? You change your mind about going to pee? Also, did you know you have somethi---” The rest of Ace’s words were drowned out by a fleet of Harley Davidsons roaring down the road.

“No, I’m fine.” Law gave Ace one last look and convinced himself of what a ridiculous notion that was, aliens! Perhaps the mothers yanking their children away were homophobes; the elderly whispering among themselves were jealous of young love. Honestly, it was not unusual for him to garner critical glances.

The walk was a short one past several blocks. Law ignored the giggles from cliques of teenage girls and the snickers from groups of adolescent guys. Meanwhile, Ace tried --- by God, did he try --- to tell Law about the hearts drawn on his face. However, every attempt had been intercepted by some higher forces of nature or whatever. Law had probably offended some otherworldly being just by being himself and this was his retribution. Ace tried one last time.

“Roo, why don’t you stand there and I’ll take a pic of you in your handsome clothes.”

“No, don’t wanna.”

“Just stand there. It’ll only take a second!”

“I think we’ve attracted enough unhealthy attention for one evening,” Law said, as a pasty-faced goth stared at him disgustedly. Law chalked it up to his sunny yellow pullover being intensely offensive to the latter and Ace facepalmed and shut up about the matter. The damage was done… If Law found out about the hearts right there and then, after his walk of shame, he would be livid. And if Law was hungry too? The deadliest combination ever! Forget all the catastrophic nuclear reactions. If Law was going to find out about the hearts, it was best he did so on a full, satiated stomach.

The greeter received them aloofly at the Thai restaurant. After Law and the greeter exchanged sharp looks, the greeter showed Ace and Law to a table by the window and left them with menus before disappearing to tend to other customers. By then, the aroma of spicy Tom Yum soup wafted over to their table and Law was completely indifferent to the nervous looks of their waitress who took their orders as quickly as possible and scurried away. Ace felt a twinge of guilt for leaving Law like that but hey, ignorance was bliss. Their conversation went simply.

“We should try not to get thrown out---”

“Or banned,” Ace chimed in.

“Or banned before we’re halfway done with the meal.”

“I think we can manage that.”

“We’re running out of places nearby that would admit us…”

“Hey, how long do you think they’ll take to make all that food?”

“The same amount of time it takes to cook for a birthday party---not long, I hope.”

“You brought your wallet, right? You made me leave before I could grab anything---Rood.”

“Too bad, you’ll just have to work here, pay off our debts.”

Ace kicked Law lightly under the table.

“Remember what happened the last time? It started very innocently with a kick---” Law stood up abruptly. “Uh I---I’ll be right back.” He hurried toward the toilets before Ace could stop him.

Ace, watching Law disappear into the Gents, could only gulp and mutter, “Uh-oh.” Ace waved frantically to the waitress. “Hey, do you think you can serve me everything in the next five minutes before my R---friend gets back?” He couldn’t count on Law to remain calm. Sure, sometimes, Law could be entirely unfazed by things that would otherwise disconcert a person. Law could watch videos of people dying in the most gruesome ways without batting an eyelash. However, something so embarrassing would most certainly cause Law’s tightly wounded nerves to unravel. Ace glanced around a little nervously. There was a lot of glass surrounding their table. Before Law returned, he should probably leave, except that the food smelled delicious and his mouth was starting to water.

Law, struck by a sudden call of nature, shouldered past some of the wait staff and went into the Gents. He picked the urinal at the furthest end and relieved himself with a soft sigh. Another customer winked at him when he passed him by on the way to the sinks but Law shot the other customer a cold look and proceeded to wash his hands without paying the guy any mind. Law pumped some mint-scented antibacterial handsoap and lathered his tattooed fingers, taking his own sweet time before he rinsed off under the automatic tap. He scrubbed between his fingers; he gave his palms a nice massage. One of life’s greatest pleasures, often overlooked, was washing one’s hands under warm water. It could be rather soothing, oddly enough. Finally, the last step, Law shook his hands into the sink to dry off any residue water. Slowly, Law raised his gaze up. He glanced at the mirror. Law paused.

Hang on one second. The mirror --- hmm, someone had drawn hearts all over it. What an inconsiderate ass--- Ha-Hang on. The mirror---! Law took one step to the left. He took one step to the right. Oh fuck.

N-No wonder. Law cupped his face with both hands in sudden horror. His face paled. Law gaped. His reflection in the mirror would frame nicely as a painting in the Louvre. Tourists and art critics would be all gaga over it. Law felt his blood run cold. He started to wipe his cheek when he halted.

Only Ace could have drawn the hearts on his face. Had that been why everyone had avoided him? Had that been the reason for all the laughs behind his back? What an unforgivable prank! How dare Ace humiliate him like this? Law clutched the sink till his knuckles turned white. He glared at his reflection when a thought flitted through his mind.

Law’s face softened a tinge. Between them, rarely did the words ‘I love you’ get said. Was that the reason behind Ace’s mischief? Had he drawn the hearts as his way of saying ‘I love you, Roo’? Law started to rub off the lipstick again when he paused. Whatever Ace’s reason… whether Ace had meant it as an affectionate gesture… Laughs had already been had. Instead of walking out ashamed, without the doodled hearts, he would wear them with pride! For fuck’s sake. Corazon would have been proud, wouldn’t he? Nah, the man was dead. But whatever, if he could bear the weird judgmental looks from the tattoo artist, surely he could walk out with the hearts on his face and pretend all was normal. Law nodded to himself. He cocked his head to the side at the other customer staring at him from across the toilet. Law said, with an edge of a warning in his tone, “Whatcha looking at?”

The customer bolted into one of the cubicles and Law marched back to Ace confidently. So he had a dozen over hearts drawn with lipstick all over his face but he refused to let that destroy him. As long as no one got photographic evidence, any rumours would only be dismissed as such.

Ace was shovelling food into his mouth by the time Law joined him back at the table. Law slid into his seat with Ace staring at him, waiting for an outburst that never came. Ace had expected the toilet to explode with Law’s screeching. Had Law not seen the mirror at all? Otherwise, why had Law not wiped off the lipstick? Regardless, Ace said nothing else except, “Oh, Roo!! Better hurry or I’ll eat it all.”

“Hands off! You already ordered plenty for yourself,” Law whined.

“And so?”

“So leav--- Hey, did you… Did you steal my prawns?!”

“Wha---” Ace scarfed down spoonfuls of rice. The legs of the prawn dangled from his lips before he quickly sucked them into his mouth. Ace added, with his mouth full, “Huh? No, maybe they didn’t give you any prawns? Maybe the cook forgot?”

Law waved at the waitress irritably. “Hey, there’s no prawns in this. I counted none when the menu specifically stated seafood Tom Yum.”

The waitress ran off and pretended she was busy watering a fake plant.

“Rood,” Law muttered.

“Rood,” Ace agreed.

That night, fresh out of the shower, dressed in his heart-print pyjamas that matched Ace’s own, Law snuggled under the bedcovers beside Ace. He laid his head on Ace’s shoulder and closed his eyes. Law mumbled, without any other explanation, “Next time, just send me a card.”

@pxrtgasdace

[accidentalnewsiesblog]

“The King of Brooklyn” and other monikers (Chapter 5)

a short little chapter about learning to read, which you can also do on ao3

~1500 words

The Student

1893

~~~

Spot knew her secret was about to be revealed when Race asked one morning, “What’s the headline today?”

She had their papers in her hand, but she could not read the headline. She could identify most of the letters, but she was at a complete loss on the words they formed.

It wasn’t her fault. Mum couldn’t read, nor had Bridget learned to read. And Spot had become self-conscious about her illiteracy when she started selling papers. She had practiced writing enough to recognize her name — making it easier to sign herself in and out of the lodge when needed — but she’d always faked her way through everything else.

But right now, Race was waiting for her to read the paper. She stared at the page, trying to put together even one word.

“Um…”

She recognized the letter C. The first letter of her last name. That one was easy. The next was an H. Then an I. Another C. Another H? A C with a weird line. An O.

Utter gibberish.

“C…” she began, like the beginning of “Conlon” or the end of “Racetrack." “H…” like the sound at the beginning of “horses." “Um…”

“Spot?”

She looked up from the page. Race was eyeing her with confusion, brows knitted together. He stepped forward and took his bundle. After scanning the letters, he said, “Chicago,” then looked back to her.

Spot felt her face flush. “Right. Yeah. I was getting there.”

His expression didn’t change. He looked around for a moment making sure nobody else was listening then asked, “Spot, can you read?”

“I mean…” Her chest tightened and she broke eye contact. “I mean, I can read.”

She must not have been convincing, because Race didn’t buy it. “Hey, it’s okay if you can’t, I just always thought you could.”

“I can read!” she insisted. “That’s just a hard word!”

Race considered this then shrugged. “Yeah, I guess it’s hard, but… Let’s just talk on the way.”

He led them on the road towards Queens, a few blocks from the wagon before he asked again.

“You can tell me things, you know. I ain’t gonna make fun of you if you don’t know how to read.”

Spot sighed. “Yeah, so I don’t know how to read. Piss off about it, why don’t ya.”

“I just said I ain’t makin’ fun! No need to get all defensive.”

He was right. He was just trying to help but she’d jumped down his throat. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“I can try to teach you if you want.”

She involuntarily glared at him out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t like relying on anyone else for anything. She was self-sufficient. He wasn’t trying to flaunt the fact that he could do something she couldn’t, but her ego was bruised now that her secret was out.

He took her non-response as an invitation to proceed. “Ya gotta start with letters. Like A-B-C—”

He began singing the children’s song to explain the alphabet, but Spot interrupted. “I already know the letters. Skip ahead.”

He contemplated for a moment then pulled one of yesterday’s papers from his bag. “Let’s practice, then. Point out an A.”

She took the pape and began searching. Her first guess was wrong, confusing an H for an A.

“Here’s the difference.” Race pointed at two similar-looking letters. “It’s an A if they come together at the top, but an H if they don’t.”

Spot nodded, committing the fact to memory. She scanned the page further, then pointed tentatively at a letter she thought was an A. “Is that one?”

Race nodded vehemently. “Yeah! Exactly! Now, what about a B?”

She found it quickly, recognizing the letter as a P with two bumps instead of one. They continued on like this through the rest of the alphabet, stumbling over the difference between M and N and W but otherwise successfully identifying most letters. Then Race told her that every letter also had a small version and she almost gave up on reading completely.

"Let's just work with the big letters for now!” he reassured her. They were halfway to Georgie’s and Spot was getting tired of the mental gymnastics, but she nodded anyway. “Start at the top and just tell me which letters they are.”

And so she did. “T… H?” Race nodded. “E. W-O-R-L-D.”

“Perfect! Now try to sound it out.”

“T” — like the end of “Spot” — “H” — like the beginning of “Higgins” — but Race stopped her there.

“Whenever T and H are together, they sound like ‘th’, like in the middle of ‘together.’”

She nodded and tried again. T. H. “Th…” The last letter in the word was E, which was tricky. It could make multiple sounds. It didn’t feel right to use the sound like elephant, so it must be a sound like in the word eagle. “The? The!”

“The!” Race repeated as he grinned. “Keep going!”

W. “W…” An O, which could also make multiple sounds. She contemplated some more, then was struck by a realization.

She was reading the name of the paper. The World.

“The World! W-world,” she slowly sounded out, emphasizing each individual letter.

The rest of the way to Georgie’s she put sounds together in an attempt to form words, realizing that there were lots of letters that made multiple sounds and that they didn’t always make the sound you thought they would. She was particularly peeved that putting an E on the end of the word could change how the other letters sounded, as she found out when reading a headline that included the word “fire.”

Upon arriving at Georgie’s, Race pointed to a sign in the window. “Try that one!”

Spot already knew what it said — Ice Cream and Sodapop — but sounded the words out to practice. I-C-E — the E on the end made the I sound like the beginning of “ice.” C-R-E-A-M — C and R were easy in this word, but the E and A, she wagered, came together to make the “ea” sound. A-N-D. Plain and simple. S-O-D-A-P-O-P would also have been easy except for the fact that both of the O sounds were different — the O in “soda” was different from the O in “pop.” She would get the hang of it, she knew.

Race started hawking papers while Spot went inside to say hello to Georgie. The bell jingled as she entered, but she didn’t see Georgie behind the counter. She looked down a couple of rows to find him poking his head in the back door.

She smiled and waved. “Mornin’ Georgie! It’s Spot and Racetrack!”

He smiled back at her then gestured for her to follow. She cantered down the aisle and into the alley, where Georgie had clearly been taking stock of a recent delivery.

“Need some help?” she offered.

“Yes, my boy, if you don’t mind.” He gestured to the crates sitting about. “I’ve counted everything out, I believe, I just need some help getting these inside.”

“You got it, Georgie.”

He pointed at one of the crates and said, “This one is the heaviest, and my old bones are giving me some trouble. They’re metal straight razors. If you could take them inside behind the counter and stock them, that would be lovely. There’s a shelf labeled ‘razors’ on the back wall.”

Spot nodded. Now was the time to put her new skills to the test. She grabbed the box and started inside.

Surely she could match up the letters on the shelves to the letters on the boxes if all else failed, but first she wanted to try her hand at reading without Race to help her.

She ducked behind the counter and found the labeled shelves.

Razor. Rrrrrazor. R.

Unfortunately, Georgie’s scrawl was less clean than the letters she read typed out in the paper. But eventually Spot located three shelves that started with the letter R.

Figuring out the next letter she needed was easy.

Razor. R-A.

Two shelves were labeled with R-A. The other, Spot noted, was R-I. She was slowly but surely narrowing it down.

She picked out the letters on the first label. R-A… that damned C with a weird line on it. What had Race said that one was?

G.

R-A-G-S. She sounded it out. “R” like “razor” — “A” like “ace” — “G” like “Georgie” — and “S” like “Spot.” She didn’t think that was how the word was actually pronounced, but whatever it was, it wasn’t “razor.”

Onto the next.

R-A-Z-O-R-S. “R” like “razor” — “A” like “ace” — “Z” like… Spot couldn’t think of anything but “zoo” — “O” like how it sounds in her name — “R” like “razor” — “S” like “Spot.” She didn’t pronounce it quite right the first time, but it definitely said “razors.”

She couldn’t help the smile that darted across her face when she read the word. Razors. And she’d read it all by herself. She stocked the razors on the shelf still smirking.

Georgie insisted on paying her whenever she helped him out, and today was no different. She and Race hawked their papers sipping on sweet apple cider. It proved a pretty uneventful day, but Spot was proud of the strides she had made to better herself, Race providing a helping hand.

R-A-C-E, he’d told her. Race.

[ookamikasumi-fanfics]

Diabolic 8

Summary: Vincent Valentine is kidnapped by the ghost of Sephiroth for a very personal mission. 

(S/VV- After AC) COMPLETE

All characters property of Square Enix. This story was written for the intent of Personal enjoyment. No money was made from this work.

Warning! Rated NC-17: hard-core Yaoi content, adult language, mild violence, non-con seduction

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Eight ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vincent stood in the glass-walled shower and let the hot spray pound down his back. He’d soaped and scrubbed every inch of his body, even his wings, but he could still smell traces of Sephiroth on his body. He could still feel his touch as though etched into his skin. He could still feel him…inside.

The water began to cool. The old-fashioned boiler had finally run out of hot water. Vincent turned off the spray. He was as clean as soap and water could make him. He sighed and slid the shower door open. He reached for a towel and scrubbed down.

Vincent picked up his leather glove. He slid his left hand into the fine leather and smoothed the sleeve up his forearm. He flexed his fingers. It was nice having full use of his hand again. He dragged on the black y-back muscle shirt. It was one of the few shirts that would allow for his wings. He pulled on some black jockeys, then stepped into his butter soft black leather pants. He zipped the fly but left it unbuttoned at the waist. Blood and hell it felt good to be back in clothes.

He smeared the steam from the mirror on the back of the facility door. He wound the scarlet cloth around his head to cover his brow, not bothering to move his long black hair out of the way. The cloth was to keep from accidentally frightening anyone when he invoked his beast and his third eye became visible. Oddly, because of the way his third eye perceived the world; as energy rather than matter, the eye had no problems seeing right through the cloth.

He stared at his reflection; black hair, scarlet bandana, scarlet eyes, black clothes…his usual appearance. No visible changes. It was as though nothing had happened.

Quiet wafted through him, easing the tension in his limbs, soothing his mind, calming his heart – except for one small corner of his heart that ached. He turned his back on the mirror. It would go away, eventually.

He set the towel around his neck; his hair wasn’t completely dry, and opened the facility door.

Cloud was sitting on the edge of Vincent’s bed facing the facility door. Early morning sunlight poured through the window on the right, turning his spiked blond hair to soft gold. He was dressed in loose black sweatpants and a sleeveless gray sweatshirt. He’d clearly just gotten out of bed. However, his brows were low over his neon blue eyes, his lips were drawn in a tight thin line, and his arms were crossed. “Welcome back.”

Vincent stiffened only slightly. He picked up the towel around his neck and set to scrubbing at his damp hair. “Thank you.” He’d hoped that Cloud had gone back to Midgar, back to his new courier business, back to Tifa and the children he’d chosen to watch over.

The farmhouse was Cid’s technically, but it was an open house to the whole team. Sitting just outside of Midgar, it was pretty much their personal way-station, a place to stop over on their way to other destinations. Any of them could be there at any given time. He hadn’t expected Cloud to still be there.

Vincent very nearly smiled. Wishful thinking on his part. Cid made a lot of noise, but he wasn’t one to actually pry. Cloud, on the other hand, seemed to assume that his friends’ problems were his problems too. The kid worried. It was kind of sweet, but Cloud was the last person he wanted involved in this… sordid affair. 

Cloud’s lip curled. It wasn’t a smile. “Care to tell me what happened?”

Vincent strode to the foot of his bed and picked up the single-sleeved leather gambeson jacket, refusing to meet Cloud’s angry blue gaze. He slid his left arm into the sleeve. The jacket was strictly a layer of padding for his armor and stopped right at the bottom of his rib cage. “No.”

Cloud dropped his chin and his eyes narrowed. “No?”

Vincent shrugged to settle the loose back panel between his folded wings. He didn’t want to spread his wings wide in front of Cloud. Although invisible to the average human eye, each wing spread fully his height and a half in length, and half his height in width. He didn’t want to take the chance that Cloud’s physical enhancements would make out that something was there. The kid knew too much about him as it was. He buckled the back panel to each side panels at the very bottom. His gaze flicked to Cloud’s then dropped. He drew the front of the padded jacket across and buckled it closed on his right side. “It was a personal matter.”

“Personal…?” Cloud choked. “Vincent, it was really obvious that you were kidnapped.” His words were soft, but vehement. “You were gone for three whole days!”

Vincent lifted his articulated arm with its chest harness, leaving the clawed hand gauntlet on the bed. He slid his padded arm into the armored sleeve and set the spaulder on his shoulder joint. He offered Cloud a quick smile. “I escaped. The end.” He looked away giving his complete attention to fastening the chest harness that supported the entire articulated arm. Hopefully Cloud would take the hint that he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Damn it, Vincent…” Cloud lunged off the bed and paced along the side of the bed on bare feet. His movements were smooth and economic, almost feline in nature. If he’d actually been a cat his tail would have lashed angrily. He stopped and glared. “Is he dead?” His voice deepened. “Tell me you killed him.”

Vincent sighed. Cloud was clearly in the mood to be stubborn and wasn’t about to take hints. He adjusted the straps to his upper arm rerebrace, and then lower arm vambrace. “He is most definitely dead.” Vincent snorted. It was the absolute truth, and the crux of the whole problem; Sephiroth had been dead to begin with. He gave his arm a shake to make sure the elbow couter settled in the right spot.

“What did he want from you?”

Vincent lifted his clawed gauntlet. A new body. His cheeks heated. And my body too. He slid his leather-gloved hand into the armored hand and worked the buckles that held it to the underside of his vambrace. “He wanted something I wasn’t willing to give.”

“No kidding.” Cloud scowled and resumed pacing. “It looked like you were being carried off naked.”

Vincent didn’t quite flinch. Crap. He’d hoped Cloud hadn’t noticed that. “I’m sure it did.” Because he had been. He focused on flexing his finger claws, opening and closing his hand.

Cloud snorted. “You looked like a princess being carried off by a villain in a fairy tale.”

Vincent turned to stare at Cloud. The kid was way too bright.

Cloud grinned and threw up his hand. “Hey you’re hot, so I could see why someone would want to carry you off!” He sniggered and shook his head. “But I just couldn’t see you as anybody’s princess.”

Vincent blinked. Cloud though he was hot? That was new. Never mind that! He shook his head to clear it, then smiled tightly. “Thank you, I think.” He tugged his pack close and dug through it, pulling out a few of his spare speed-loaders. He set them out on the bed next to his gun-belt with the holstered tri-barreled pistol. He checked the rounds. He really needed to visit his weapons maker to see if his order for fresh ammo had been completed.

“Can you tell me who it was?”

“No.” Absolutely not! There was no way in hell he was telling Cloud that his ultimate enemy was still around, even as a ghost. The kid would go insane.

“No?” Cloud’s hands fisted at his sides. “What do mean no? No you can’t, or no you won’t?”

Vincent shoved the speed-loaders into the gun-belt’s assorted pouches without looking at Cloud. “No is a small word, one syllable, with only one meaning.” He was not about to go into any more detail. The kid was too damned good at guessing.

“Vincent…” Cloud’s voice dropped to a rumbling growl. “I’m only a hair away from beating the truth out of you.”

Vincent turned and narrowed his gaze at Cloud. “I never lie. You know that better than anyone.” He couldn’t lie. Sephiroth had been right. Something in him just wouldn’t let him. His only defense was keeping his mouth closed.

Cloud narrowed his gaze and curled his lip, showing his white front teeth. “You never explain anything either!”

Vincent stiffened. Cloud was definitely in one of his stubborn moods. “I’d like to get some sleep, if you don’t mind. It took the entire night just to get back here, I’m dead tired.”

“Oh really?” Cloud took a firm step closer and smiled. “Where were you?”

Vincent smiled right back, and this time he showed his long teeth. “I don’t know.” That was the gods’ honest truth!

Cloud lifted a blonde brow and his smile tightened into something closer to a sneer. “Is that so?” He took another step closer. “Then how did you know how to get back here?”

“Uh…” At less than an arm’s length away, Vincent stared eye to eye with Cloud. He couldn’t help but wonder when the kid had gotten tall enough to actually look him in the eye. And when had he gotten so damned good-looking? Alarm washed through him and the hair rose all over his body. What the hell am I thinking? Too shocked to check his tongue, he spat out the first thing that came to mind. “I wandered around until I recognized something and went from there.”

Cloud’s blue eyes narrowed. “And where exactly, was there?’”

Vincent jerked his gaze away from Cloud’s. He wasn’t about to answer where there was. That would open a whole new squirming can of questions about how he’d gotten from there to the farmhouse in one night.

Cloud leaned closer. “Vincent…”

Vincent leaned away, keeping his head turned. “No.” He wasn’t sure if it was in response to the question or because Cloud was less than a hand-span away. He did not like being this physically close to anyone.

Cloud tilted his head and lifted a blond brow. “No, again?”

Vincent’s heart thumped in his chest. Damn it, the kid was way too close. He could actually smell the heated scent of his body. “Back off, Cloud.”

Cloud smiled with teeth and set his hands on his slim hips. “No.”

Vincent felt heat spiral downward. He was definitely reacting to the kid. Crap! He didn’t need this, he really didn’t. “Fine, then I will.” He turned away and grabbed his pack with his bare right hand. He was not about to play dominance games with Cloud. Not with his body reacting out of control.

Cloud grabbed Vincent’s right wrist. He grabbed the handle of Vincent’s pack with his other hand. “Where are you going?”

Vincent froze. He turned to look at Cloud and growled, showing his long teeth. “Let go.”

Cloud’s hand tightened, and so did his jaw. “Vincent, you’re my friend. I care about what happens to you. I just want to help.”

“You can’t.” Vincent twisted his hand sharply.

Cloud held on to both Vincent’s wrist and the pack. “Try me.”

Try him? Vincent froze where he stood actually wondering what it would be like. He’d seen Cloud practically naked a few times and knew the kid had one hell of a body… Heat spilled up into his cheeks then straight down into his cock, making it swell. He sucked in a sharp breath. Fuck! What the hell had that perverted bastard done to him that he would even consider it? He stepped back pulling hard. “Let me go, Cloud.” The pitch of his voice was a hair higher than normal.

Cloud’s brows shot up and the black pits of his pupils widened. His cheeks flushed pink. “Go where?” The scent of warm musk rolled from him.

Every hair on Vincent’s body rose. He knew male lust when he smelled it. He’d just spent the last few days practically rolling in it. He swallowed hard. Son of a bitch! The kid was reacting to him too. He needed to leave before Cloud realized what was actually happening.

But Cloud clearly didn’t want to let him leave.

Vincent released a low deep growl and bared his teeth. “Let go. I won’t ask again.” If he was forced to punch the kid in the head to get out of there, he would. He’d apologize later.

Cloud’s eyes narrowed. “First, tell me who was fucking you for the past three days.”

Vincent felt the blood leave his face in a cold rush. He knows. He lashed out with his armored left fist, catching Cloud square on the side of his head. It was only a glancing blow. He just wanted to knock some sense into his head, not kill him.

Cloud’s eyes widened, then he reeled sideways.

Vincent tugged his wrist and his pack free. The kid hadn’t even tried to block him. Apparently he hadn’t thought Vincent would actually hit him. He’d been mistaken.

Vincent grabbed his gun-belt and went for the bedroom door. He collected his mantle and cape hanging on the back, then crouched to grab his armored shoes right by the doorjamb.

A bare foot thumped behind him.

Vincent abandoned his shoes and dodged left.

Cloud’s fist hit the door with a loud bang and a crunch, right where Vincent’s head would have been. The door vibrated, but held. Cloud pulled his fist free and bared his teeth at Vincent. “You’re not leaving.” His voice was quiet and very deep.

Vincent bolted for the window, more than willing to jump right through the glass. He felt the air shift behind him and whirled to the right.

Cloud slammed into a crouch directly in front of the window. He rose to his feet and turned to face Vincent. His eyes were wide black pits with only a thin line of blue encircling them. “Not a whole lot of places to run in here.”

Crap. Cloud wasn’t just being stubborn, he was being aggressive. It was one of the hazards of SOLDIERs, First Class. Their treatments made them damn near bi-polar in their mood swings. He’d seen Cloud lose it a few times. The results of one of his berserk rages were never pretty. But then, neither was his. Vincent backed away from him. “Cloud, we can’t fight in here, we’ll destroy Cid’s house.”

Cloud followed. “Then don’t fight me.” He smiled.

Vincent stopped where he was, unsure of what he should do. He could keep dodging, but he knew he wouldn’t stay out of Cloud’s reach for long. He couldn’t use his wings for additional speed or maneuvering at all. The room was just too damned small to open them. Not to mention that backing away and dodging only made the situation worse. It made him look like prey. “Cloud, you’re not in your right mind.”

Cloud eased to Vincent’s right, keeping between Vincent and the window. “You got that right.”

Vincent turned to keep Cloud in front of him. “Cloud…?”

Cloud continued to stalk around Vincent, circling him. “You were carried off by a man, Vincent. For three days I wondered what he was doing to you.” He stopped suddenly, and focused on Vincent’s mouth. “I wondered what you were doing to him.” He licked his lips.

A quick glance down showed a rigid erection tenting the front of Cloud’s loose pants. Chills spilled down Vincent’s spine. Crap, crap, crap…

Cloud frowned and stepped closer. “I just want…”

Vincent held very still and tried to keep his voice calm.  “You just want…what?”

Cloud’s gaze dropped to the scarlet cape, gun-belt, and black carry-bag in Vincent’s hands. “Put those down.”

Vincent’s fingers tightened on his belongings. “Cloud, it would be best if I leave.”

“No.” Cloud’s gaze narrowed, his hands fisted at his sides, and his shoulders hunched slightly. “You are not leaving me again.”

What…? The hairs on the back of Vincent’s neck rose. Cloud was on the very verge of a full blown attack. “Cloud…”

Cloud curled his lip, showing teeth. “Drop them, now!”

Without taking his eyes off Cloud, Vincent leaned to his right lowering his bag, gun-belt, and cape, setting them on the floor. With Cloud this close to snapping, he needed his hands free anyway. He folded his arms across his chest. “Happy now?”

His eyes locked on Vincent’s, Cloud stepped forward and kicked. The whole pile went skidding.

Vincent turned to watch his things slide under the bed behind him and scowled. He’d have to lift the whole bed to get them back out.

He barely saw Cloud’s fist coming at the side of his head.

Vincent twisted to avoid it, but not far enough. His head snapped hard to the side and white stars exploded behind his eyes. Stunned, he toppled over, collapsing in a loose-boned heap.

Vincent barely felt Cloud grab him under the arms to shove him up onto the bed. He winced and groaned. Holy hell his head hurt! The kid was freakishly strong. His punch had very nearly knocked him out cold. He felt tugging on his clothes. Huh? His eyesight focused, somewhat.

Cloud was sitting on top of him, straddling his hips. Vincent’s arm harness was unbuckled, his gambeson open, and his shirt pushed up, baring his belly.

Vincent frowned blearily. What the hell is this? “Cloud?”

Cloud set his warm palms on Vincent’s belly, making the stomach muscles jump in reaction. He slid his palms up, shoving the shirt higher baring Vincent’s chest. Cloud’s brows rose. He brushed his thumbs across Vincent’s nipples. “They’re so pale.”

A sharp spark of erotic fire darted through Vincent’s nipples and shot downward, making his cock twitch in interest. Vincent bit back a gasp and grabbed for Cloud’s wrist with his human right hand. “Quit that!”

Cloud’s eyes narrowed. He twisted his hand in Vincent’s grip, taking hold of Vincent’s wrist instead. He leaned forward pinning Vincent’s wrist to the bed by Vincent’s head. “Don’t fight me, Vincent.”

Vincent winced. Cloud wasn’t hurting him, though the grip on his wrist was rather tight, it was the way he was seated. Cloud’s forward angle was putting pressure in his semi aroused cock, and Cloud was fully aroused. He shifted under Cloud’s weight to relieve the pressure.

Cloud inhaled sharply. His eyes opened wide, and his cheeks flushed pink. “Ah…”

Vincent froze under him with a strong suspicion that he’d just done something supremely stupid.

Cloud’s darkened blue gaze locked on Vincent’s shifting from narrowed to hooded. He licked his lips and closed his finger and thumb on Vincent’s nipple. He tugged

Erotic fire scorched him all the way down to his cock. Vincent writhed, one knee rising in sheer reaction. A groan escaped him.

Cloud smiled. “Your nipples are as sensitive as a girl’s.”

Vincent’s face filled with heat and he scowled. “They’re sensitive because I’m not used to people touching them, idiot.”

“Liar.” He thumbed Vincent’s hardening nipple. “Someone has been touching them.”

Sparks of delight burned in Vincent’s nipples, and skittered downward. He bit back his groan, and twisted under Cloud. Only one person, damn it. His pants were getting uncomfortably tight. “Cloud, stop this. You do girls, not guys, remember?”

Cloud leaned down, smiling from only a breath away. “But you let guys do you.”

Vincent stared up at Cloud’s smile, thoroughly chilled. What the fuck…? “I do not!”

“For someone that can’t tell lies, you’re certainly telling a lot of them.” Cloud rocked his hips, deliberately putting pressure on Vincent’s cock.

Vincent’s groan escaped before he could stop it. “I am not lying!”

“Oh please… You obviously like what I’m doing to you.” Cloud reached down with his free hand and pressed against the rigid bulge under Vincent’s leather pants. He squeezed. “You’re hard.”

Vincent gasped. Bloody hell, what was going on in this kid’s head? “Of course I’m hard! You’re teasing me. Anyone would react the same way!”

“Is that so?” Cloud’s smile tightened and his gaze narrowed. “I think you’re reacting…” His voice dropped to a growl. “…Because someone already taught you to like it.”

Vincent felt the blood leave his face and his entire body went rigid. That was far too close to the truth.

Cloud smile sharpened and his brows dipped low. “Fuck, I’m right, aren’t I?” His fingers closed on the zipper to Vincent’s leather pants. He tugged it downward. “How much did they teach you, Vincent? How far did they go?”

An icy sweat formed all over Vincent. “No!” He was not doing this with Cloud. He grabbed Cloud’s upper arms, his metal claws digging in to flesh. “Get off me!” He twisted to shove him off. “Get off!”

Cloud jerked his arms free and slammed his forearms down on Vincent’s shoulders, pressing down with his considerable upper-body weight. Because of the nature of his bio-engineering, Cloud’s body was not only stronger than the average human’s; it was far denser, making it incredibly heavy. “Stop that!”

Vincent gasped and bucked hard twisting. “No!” Unfortunately the mattress was too soft for any kind of real leverage. “I’m not doing this!” He brought his knees up, kicking out. “I’m not doing this with you!”

Cloud snarled and fought to grab Vincent’s wrists. “But you’ll do it with some other guy for three days?” He pinned them against the mattress up by Vincent’s head. “What, I’m not good enough for you?”

Vincent froze, staring at Cloud’s angry face. “What?”

Cloud’s head dropped, covering Vincent’s mouth in a hard kiss.

~ * ~

[aurimeanswind]

Here comes the Storm—Sunday Chats (11-26-17)

Another week, another long time away from those sweet, good people who came to my house for ExtraLife. It’s definitely been the hardest adjustment period after a nice big fun-time event for me, and while I’m still bummed, I’m pushing through.

Game of the Year Season

So I said on a most recent podcast that we will not be doing our annual Game of the Year “Guest Top 10” podcasts, where I would go around, collect guests from different rabbit holes on the internet, and sit down with them for an hour-long chat to essentially interview them on their ten favorite video games from that year. I’ve decided against it, but I did imply that there may be something in its place. It’s still in the early stages of planning, so I haven’t said anything big on it yet, ad I’m trying to keep it pretty secret, so bear with me here.

If you have played any of these ten games, and would be interested in talking about them in a mostly positive manner, please reach out to me:

Breath of the Wild

Nier Automata

Hellblade

Mario Odyssey

Wolfenstein 2

Danganronpa V3

Persona 5

Edith Finch

Destiny 2

Resident Evil 7

Now reaching out to me doesn’t guarantee a spot on any to-be-announced project, but I want to start writing down names. Please reach out to me in whatever way you prefer and tell me what game you’ve played and would be interested in talking about. I’ll keep you posted as best I can.

Game of the Year is always a hectic time for me since it’s a lot of “oh god I need to finish this, this, and that,” but it’s also a time where a lot of great conversations start happening, and when those fun end-of-year announcements come billowing forth. I’m excited because of the conversations I get to listen in on, and possibly partake in, but I’m also hesitant since many of my choice favorite games will receive I’m sure the most scrutinous eye.

Regardless, if you’re the kind of person who gets vehemently upset when your favorite podcast or The Game Awards don’t pick your favorite game as Game of the Year, or RPG of the year, or whatever, my advice to you is: chill. I’ve been in your shoes before, and I know that frustration when the thing you love so much doesn’t get the recognition you think it deserves, but relax. One gaming site, or outlet, or awards show doesn’t reflect everyone unanimously, and just because someone liked one thing more than you did, or didn’t like something as much as you, doesn’t invalidate your feelings. Enjoy what you love.

Chase your bliss, as I sometimes say.

What’s on Tap:

Assassin’s Creed Origins

I finally finished this game!

Woof. It kind of drags at the end.

I’ll say this, I put over 100 hours into two excellent games this year, Persona 5 and Zelda, and they flew by. When I looked at my game counter on AC Origins, the 36 hours I put into it felt much longer at the end of it all.

I’m not saying it’s bad, but there was a point where I felt I had seen all I needed to see, and then there was six more hours of story missions, and I kind of just wanted it to be over.

When you’re in the thick of it, playing the game, it’s exceptionally fun.

I’m still really glad I played it. Bayek is one of my favorite characters from this year. Excellently done, and an Egyptian protagonists added to my list of favorite characters in games is pretty fucking rad I think.

What Remains of Edith Finch

I played through all of this this past week, in what was meant to be breakout sessions, but ended up being one big long session.

VERY GOOD. I loved the vignette style storytelling, I liked the premise, and above all, I loved exploring this big old house with tons of secrets in it.

It’s very much my jam, but the bond between mechanics and storytelling in this game is pretty excellent.

Assassin’s Creed 3

Sigh. Don’t ask.

Skyrim VR

My brother recently got a whole new setup for himself, including a 4K TV, a PS4 Pro, which I set up for him today, and a PlayStation VR. He went on vacation starting yesterday and gave me free reign to play around with it as I’d like.

All I really did was play the tutorial of Skyrim VR, which was... odd.

I don’t know how I feel about movement in that game, but generally I really liked seeing that game from a first person perspective, experiencing the different control sets.

I was sitting on the floor in front of the TV kind of just waving my arms around though, so it wasn’t what I’d call the full experience. Maybe with more time I’ll be able to come to an actual opinion.

I will say, holding my arms out stretched in either direction and blasting fire in one direction and lightening in the other was fucking sweet.

Questions

As always, if you’d like to ask your question and be a part of the Sunday Chats conversations, look for any of my tweets on Sundays with the hashtag #SundayChats and respond with your question!

Next week I will be asking a question, and I already have it in mind, so I won’t be taking questions next week. There seems to be some confusion on this, but just look for the tweet and I try and explain it there.

Goddammmit hahaha.

Okay. Well, I would probably do the L in my first name. Then I’m A Walrus Ex, which implies I am the ex-walrus, or ex-partner of someone, who just so happens to be a Walrus. Now, there is a lot of potential here if we dig a bit deeper. I could replace the “ill” in the part of my last name and be Alex One Walrus. Which you could then punctuate differently, like “Alex, One Walrus”. Hey, why not throw in a question mark there just for fun!

Alex, One Walrus? PLEASE?

Now I know that isn’t in the spirit of the question, you did specify, Steven, that I’d have to replace just one letter of my name, but if you’re gonna sit here and send me some weird questions I am about to say come into this play space and play with me.

Play with me - Griffin McElroy, 2017.

Boy does this thicken the plot up pretty well ey.

I mean I don’t think I’d want to kiss a minion, but if it was one of those princess and the frog situations, a classic pull, I know, I’d kiss a minion square on the lips to see if he or she turned into a beautiful princess or prince.

Think about it, if you were cursed to live in the body of a disgusting, banana yellow, horror side-show creature, straight out of American Horror Story, you’d want someone, anyone, to just come release you from that prison before you know, you get acclimated and start living that life the only way you can: one butt joke at a time.

Ups and downs, ya know? Easily the best weekend of my life happened in this year, ExtraLife 2017, which is both an accomplishment, a look back at the road I’ve taken, and (hopefully) a preview of the opportunity and accomplishment that is yet to come. It was incredible.

On the other side of that is the summer of this year, which saw my worst depression since I first had it in 2012. A lot of factors caused this, but it really put such a hold on some of the things I was working on.

2017 was also the year after launched Alex Talks, and in the calendar year of 2017, I’ve only put up one episode of it. I’ve barely worked on video at all this year, in fact. It’s a year I have to live in the shadow of that accomplishment.

It’s been a great year for video games, for media, and a terrible one for the world at large, for the rights of many people who don’t get any benefit of the doubt. One that has taught me a lot about the bad parts of empathy, and one that has really reformed my perspective.

There is another post for this, with a more complete thoughts, but:

it’s had its ups and downs.

I’m exceptionally lucky that I have friends who fit into all four houses, all of which I love.

I think the house stuff is played up in the book, and I bet if you asked JK today, she’d say she regrets making some of them as villainous as they appeared. But also that was reflective of ‘91-98 of Hogwarts, and in my heart of hearts, I believe things changed after the battle of ‘98.

(See: if you didn’t know how much of a Harry Potter nerd I was before, casual Sunday Chats reader, strap in)

Slytherin gets the worst rap. But tenaciousness and cunning and a sly nature don’t mean you’re a bad person. You’re the person that sticks up for your friend that doesn't stick up for themselves, and gets back. Hard. Maybe things get taken to far, but the Slytherin is the person that takes the action, that punches the Nazi, because they don’t fuck with that.

Hufflepuff gets a terrible reputation! Hufflepuff is great. One word: loyalty. Honor. Diggory told Harry how to get into the Egg in the 4th book because he had the honor to do so. Loyalty to the people you love. You care about. Honor to say what needs to be said. You’re not the leader, but you’re the person the leader trusts the most.

Ravenclaw. Cocky and over enthused. Often seen as a little haughty. But The thirst to seek knowledge is a gift and a curse, and those are the bad parts. What about the longing to teach, to challenge, to instill that knowledge in others? The Ravenclaw is the tactician, the hacker and the brains in the heist. They’re the Rise and the Futaba of the group, to use a Persona reference.

Gryffindor. Cockier, thick headed, stubborn, and not the least bit a little sensitive to their house being undercut, eh? But it’s because Gryffindor wants to be the best. They want to stare the dragon in the face. They want to lead the charge, the be the support beam for everyone, to be the one everyone turns to. They want to be brave, and that’s very important. The Gryffindor is also the person that punches the Nazi, because they don’t fuck with that either.

But take a step back. If you would rather sit and argue over whose house is the best, and believe that one is only full of bad people, and another isn’t, you missed the whole point of the books. You fucked up. Congrats.

It’s not about what divides us, it’s about those differences encouraging us to come together. A lesson that everyone should hold near and dear in their hearts today.

And...

Sigh.

I’ll admit this here. I’ve always proported to be a Ravenclaw, but I’ve taken the test that Pottermore, the most official source, put together, twice. Neither time was I sorted into Ravenclaw.

The first time? Gryffindor.

The second? Hufflepuff.

So take that what you will. Maybe I’m not a Ravenclaw after all.

Maybe I am a Hufflepuff. And all that shit everyone talked about Hufflepuff was about me. How does that make you feel, reader? Maybe have a bit of empathy for the ‘Puffs.

...

Or maybe I’d have asked the sorting hat to put me in Ravenclaw instead of either of them. That’s what I’d like to think.

It was good! It was very relaxed, I ate a responsible amount of food, got some good leftovers, and hopefully can make some good leftover turkey grilled cheese, because that shit is so good.

And I’m alright. I’m really tired. I feel you on the hard to think of good questions. Sunday Chats is always fun because it’s brain food for thought provoking stuff. It’s a lot of fun to throw together, and I try and have a good time with the questions.

But yes. Very tired. Very much enjoyed my day off today.

I have actually fallen off the bandwagon completely. But that’s normal for me. Anime is a thing that comes and goes in my heart. Regardless though, I want to catch up on MHA and maybe sit down and watch something good soon. I’m just... a bit drained of that anime optimism at the moment.

1. I don’t think they’re BS, honestly. I think you just have to take a step back and look at what they are: a bunch of outlets blindly voting things into categories, and then voting again on what they think should win. Each outlet no doubt respects their own deliberations far more, and that’s really how it should. But as a reflection of a bunch of blind votes? Man it’s just like Metacritic, it’s not 100% accurate nor should it be responsibly for some game developer’s “bonus”, but it’s a metric that we can use to gauge a wider audience.

I’m actually really interested in the conversation around PUBG for GOTY and how the Game Awards took that nomination themselves.

2. It’s going alright. There have been a lot more conversations because I’m trying to get the writing team really involved this year. Hopefully they can spearhead some written guest top 10s, in place of the podcasts. And obviously what I said above. Trying not to get too exhausted doing stuff on it this year though.

3. Hah! It’s not bad. i was annoyed at first because everyone did there “omg here is my 280 characters tweet” and that was just dumb. But it’s proven to be a much better way to get a complete thought into a tweet, with proper grammar at least. I’m curious what threads and stuff will look like with it going forward. Already seen some that I really liked.

4. Dressing, foooooor sure. Fuck stuffing.

Alex died peacefully under the weight of 120 people, crashing boxes down on him, as he quietly pleaded, “I’m just trying to help.”

Happy Thanksgiving Brandon!

Yeah I’ve definitely had great pockets of time. Honestly a lot of the events this year (PAX East, and ExtraLife), for the most part, have been really great. Things going off without a hitch. There are always issues, but sometimes it’s just water off the back.

But there have been times when I just take a couple days off and chill, and it’s just about getting lost in whatever you’re working on, or enjoying, or playing, and that’s the best for me. Some nice alone time. But I guess I can’t think of anything specific...

Hrm, I’ll get back to you if I do.

I nice wrapped burrito, because it has a good weight, it’s solid, and if you hit someone hard enough with it, it’ll explode food all over them.

It’s essentially the grenade of the food fight.

God this is such a good fucking question.

Like, think about the pizza slice, hot and fresh, just slapping up against someones fucking raw back, and slowly sliding down. Why a person, any person, wouldn’t be wearing a shirt in a food fight, well I don’t know.

But that image popped in my head.

And here we are Jon. Here we are.

Man found dead in his three story house, bags flooded all over the scene.

First responders, disgusted, harkened it back to the first murder in the movie “Se7en”. Kevin Spacey has not been seen since the incident.

Victims body exploded from within under the weight of, what the note adjacent to the body referred to as, “endless burritos. right here. why would I ever stop.”

Police are still investigating.

In short, you’d fucking know if they did Trevor.

I still haven’t really had the time to read as much as I’d like, I’ve actually been reading a lot of writing that has been sent to me, specifically for me to edit. Which is exciting! But it’s not exactly good to put on display here, per sé. But I’m working on stuff, and today is my 991st day of writing, if anyone was curious.

I plan on stopping writing everyday when I hit 1000, as I’ve said before, but we’ll see if I don’t pick it up again soon after.

Anyway, that’s a conversation for next week.

Until then,

keep it real.