#because of the shirt cuffs under his bigger cuffs

[krys-does-art-stuff]

Former Belle declares her love for her king in front of the neighboring nobility. It's super effective!

I speeded through Nokto's sequel a few days ago and I had fun time with it! Nokto has a way of surprising you with how much depth he has and his sequel definitely delivered on that.

March 2025

[punkslovepoints]

✨2024 Steddie Fic Recommendations

template from Steddie Support Podcast on twitter

Summaries and links below the cut

Born Under a Bad Sign by @pinkie-quinns [27k E]

Eddie Munson lived. He lived. So why does he still feel very, very dead?

No Loose Ends by @thisapplepielife [7k E]

"Ocean air is healing, you know," Eddie says as if he's serious, and Steve smiles. "Is the gulf considered an ocean?" Steve asks. And Eddie just shrugs and grins back, shaking another pack of cigarettes out of the fresh carton Steve brought him. Steve feels like a pack mule, hauling food and smokes and beer, back and forth across several states. "Closest thing I've ever seen to one, at least," Eddie says, and Steve has the fleeting thought that someday, Steve will change that. Or: Waiting out the shitstorm back in Indiana.

Big Talk by @occasionaloverboy [29k E]

The first time Eddie flirts with him is a surprise. The second time is a fluke. After that, it gets a little hard to keep track.

Sports Performance by @entanglednow [18k E]

Steve discovers something unexpected while waiting alone in Eddie's room, and struggles to be a supportive friend.

i got your name stuck to my tongue (only call me when you're drunk) by GhostEnthusiast [22k E]

5 times Steve fools around with Eddie Munson at parties, and 1 time he invites him to one himself.

Exactly What It Looks Like by @bilbosmom-belladonna [31k E]

Steve makes a face at Eddie. “You've imagined doing stuff with a guy?” “Yeah, man,” Eddie replies, spreading his hands wide. “Doesn't everyone?” Steve tilts his head to the side as he thinks. Maybe not very often, but his freshman year when Davey Riggs had been swim team captain? Yeah, he had definitely imagined some stuff that had made trips to the locker room kinda awkward. “Yeah, that's true,” Steve answers, nodding. “I wonder why everybody acts like it's so gross, though.” In the summer of 1986, Steve and Eddie have some perfectly normal fun between a couple of perfectly normal dudes.

Path to the Rainbow's End by gayhandshake [17k M]

Eddie always believed he was getting out of Hawkins. He knew he was meant for something else, even when he thought he only had two options: a bus to the state penitentiary like his father and his father’s father before him or a plane to Los Angeles, paid for by a record executive with a fat bank account and a vision. Turns out, there was a third path, and when he left town, it was in the driver’s seat on I-90, trailing behind a brown BMW carrying the Wonder Twins, with most of their shared possessions shoved into the back of his van. The van survived the drive to Rochester, but just barely. He coaxed her along with soothing words and stroking hands until she rolled to a stop two houses down from their new place, like Flipper dying in her trainer’s arms. He didn’t cry then, because they’d done this song and dance before. He did throw a very mature, contained temper tantrum at the mechanic the next day. -- Eddie knows exactly who he is. Definitely. Probably. Maybe.

Somewhere it Hides a Well by @teddywesworl [8k E]

Eddie ducks his head briefly, a gesture that doesn’t quite fit with the guy’s overall image: buzz cut, obvious ink, scars on his jaw. A bunch of his shirt buttons are undone, and Steve can see a white tank and a gold chain underneath. “Yeah,” Eddie says. “I’m at a shop in Uptown.” It’s rote, sounds sort of disinterested. Steve might think he’s being dismissed if Eddie Munson’s eyes weren’t raking over him, lingering at his jawline, his throat, his hands when he adjusts his cuffs. Or: At Lumax’s wedding in 2003, slutty bisexual physical therapist Steve sets his eye on inked up tough guy mechanic Eddie and peels away his mask.

You Could Call Me Nancy by @pinkie-quinns [5k T]

Steve and Nancy get back together. And Eddie, well. He does what any respectable person would do in that situation. He drinks about it.

Restorative Violence by @anniebass [30k E]

Unlike his uncle, Eddie still dreamt of bigger things, the fame of a musician, good cars, big-ass mansions, talked about it in the hospital bed, as with the trailer’s ruin came hope of relocation, the first step toward betterment, maybe a house a touch less vehicular, one maybe not so weiner-shaped. Still, his new room failed to convey a fulfilled dream; the unpacked boxes stood in unstable towers, dust covered the guitar, only the dirty dishes seemed to be a movable component of a life sustained, not lived. It didn’t seem like Eddie was fine at all.

Late Bloomers by @arimakes and @mojowitchcraft [65l E]

Two men walk into a gay bar. One thinks he’s straight, one thinks he’s vanilla. Both of them are idiots.

Steve & Robin by @audacityofbird [120k M]

It's 1995. Two sets of best friends find themselves in Chicago and in each other's orbit as they try to figure out how to best navigate the world, work, relationships, family, and friendships in their mid-twenties. Chrissy is starting a new job in a new city with only an old friend to help tether her. Eddie tries to help his band find their big break. Steve tries to get his matchmaking family off his back and Robin hatches a plan to help him do that in an unconventional and seemingly logical way. They're all finding themselves and their way to each other. So, who cares if they stumble along the way? At least they have each other.

Don't Hate The Player by orphan_account [6k M]

Steve Harrington doesn't really play video games. Not his thing. Somehow, however, he's ended up in an utterly delusional, one-sided relationship with an NPC.

The Fire And The Flood by @entanglednow [6k E]

Steve's already spent half a day dealing with the kids misbehaving, he really doesn't need Eddie making his life harder.

would you be my friend? by @their-we-go [8k M]

"Honourable Justice Harrington, I have perjured myself on this stand today, and I would like to recant.”"Honourable Justice Harrington, I have perjured myself on this stand today, and I would like to recant.” “Dude, what are you—” “I lied, man. I fibbed. I told a story. I—” “Alright, okay. I get it.” “I don’t read, uh. Gay porn for the articles.” “Okay.” “I more read it for the, you know.” He scrubs a hand over his face. Wishes he could hide. “Gay porn.” (Or: scenes from Eddie's life after the world doesn't end.)

let's exchange the experience by @jamiethegardener55 [22k E]

"I propose a game," Eddie announced. Steve zipped his coat back up, wincing. "I'm not playing your dungeon game." "Not," Eddie said, "a tabletop game, thank you, Steven. A challenge. A bet." He felt his eyes gleam. Steve gave him a wary look. "What kind of challenge?" "I," Eddie said, clapping his palms together, "will be Steve Harrington. For a whoooole day. And you will be Eddie Munson." -- Eddie and Steve play a game. They have to do whatever the other says for the day. Neither of them has ever heard of BDSM. Things go really well.

Big wheel keep on turning by prufrocks [28k E]

A few months after Starcourt, Steve moves out of his parents' house and into a friend of a friend's empty RV. What follows is a long six months of unintentional minimalism, scraping by on two bucks an hour, and staring at the specter that haunts the other side of the trailer park. Meanwhile, Robin gets a song stuck in her head. A season four rewrite.

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

Then mine from this year:

Pebble [5.4k words, Rated: T]

“Right, well when the male finds a female penguin he likes, he brings her a pebble. It shows the female that he wants to build a nest with her, that he wants to have her as a mate. So I thought -” Steve raised an eyebrow, “You want me to be your mate?”

flood water (a series) [17k words, Rated: E]

“Nothing says last day on earth like trying to fuck your straight friend before disappearing the next day.” Eddie skips town a month after he gets out of the hospital.

how to wake a dead boy (with art work by @bleedingoptimism) [33.4k words, Rated: M]

Steve’s been able to bring dead people back to life since he was a child. It’s a secret he’s managed to keep from everyone, hiding his power under a layer of detachment from the world around him. Then Eddie dies and Steve has a decision to make. A Stranger Things canon-compliant story based on Pushing Daisies lore.

Queer Lodgings [WIP, Rated: E]

After almost dying in the Upside Down, Eddie wakes to a high school diploma, a place at community college, and - yet another surprise in this new sunshine and rainbows existence that is somehow his life - Steve Harrington as a roommate. It's a double bi awakening!

[43-moonshadow]

My friend follows me and we're doing a play through of ace attorney so bestie if you're reading this, this cut is for you, do not click it, it contains spoilers.

Now for the rest of yous, Sebastian debeste Eustace Winner!

I wanted to try and redesign him with the ace attorney redesign philosophy (and art style), that being changing as little as possible while still making it look like he's grown and lived, on the left is a full design and right is a sprite redraw.

Firstly here are the comparisons between the redesign and the original, in the full shot I straightened out his back because someone, probably Edgeworth, must have corrected him on that.

My main ideas are that

he's still a bit more bark than bite,

he has a greater musical association(birds),

he's much more competent and

he is Miles' protege.

Here's the design breakdown, as you can see I tried to take a little bit from both Miles and Franziska to hint at his mentorship. With Fran, I added a matching jewel and gold lining and with Edgeworth, I added his iconic cravat and jacket, which is styled to look like his younger design's, ie. high folded collar + flat lapels(I think that's what they're called?) I left out the gold details to make the design look simpler(this can be seen better in the sprite) I didn't want him to be too gaudy to show maturity.

The next decision I made was to give him a subtle bird aesthetic. I did this by changing his hairstyle to mimic a parakeet and by giving both his coats coat-tails, to look like tail feathers and wings respectively. I might draw this later but, I also think that when he's showing off, his cravat would puff up the same way male birds do to make themselves look bigger, since, that seems very in character for him.

As for the stuff I changed without reference, I rolled up his sleeves to make him look hardworking and to show that perhaps he's changed a little, I made his gloves longer to balance out his sleeves and I changed the design on the sleeve cuffs to be consistent with his boot cuffs, which are like that because I thought it would look cool and dramatic and it does (it also has the added bonus of making him look tough which he isn't lmao)

Headcannons

He's a little taller in the future, bout half a head

His baton extends a little longer when he wants it to, similarly to Franziska's whip

Franziska was the one who suggested the longer baton

When he was studying, between this design and his first, he wore purely comfortable clothing, in a design sense I want to say mostly loose white shirts and pants, runners and a red scarf(white is a clean colour and he was rediscovering himself and the red scarf would be a nod to Edgeworth and the path he would take)

The cravat and the Jem brooch are gifts

His prosecutor's badge is under his red coat and he dramatically reveals it when he's winning or standing his ground

Now that I think about it Key probably had something to do with the choice in footwear

Eustace does not have that much style

[ryker-writes]

Overblot

Warning: mentions of blood

drip drip drip

What was once slow drips of blot through his system has now flooded throughout him and escaped. It was much more real now. The blot had escaped to the outside, and he couldn't stop it. Even if he could somehow stop it, would he?

It gave him power. It made him feel strong. And he could finally do whatever he wanted. No one could control him.

He accepted it, and let the blot fully take over.

It consumed him. Drops of black stained many strands of his hair and dripped down his body. Trails of blot curved from the side of his face and under his eyes, making the dark circles appear bigger. From those trails, a few drops ran down from under each eye. Almost like tears. And his eyes...had this pink glow to them.

On his shoulders rested a long feathered jacket, with each feather being a ruffled mess. Some were even partially broken or torn. Around Jaxon's neck was a chain that wrapped around multiple times, complete with a lock on the front that dangled down against his chest. His plain black shirt had turned into a much longer, and more torn, shirt with ruffles around the deep collar.

Blot ran down his arms and completely covered his hands. In a way, it kind of reminded him of the blood from so long ago. It even dripped down from his now long, almost talon like, nails. Around his wrists were the cuffs left behind from a broken pair of handcuffs, still wrapped tightly around his wrists and broken chains dangling.

His jeans now had holes in them and his regular shoes had become knee high boots with sharp heels. Dark feathers with hints of blue decorated the top of the boots and trailed down to the base. On the side of his jeans were loose chains that dangled down from his belt.

Behind him, stood a large crow completely made of blot. If was hunched over and twitching with broken feathers sticking out. Wrapped around it's next was a string with a old and rusty key.

Upon locking eyes with the creature, it spread it's large wings out and let out a loud caw. It's wings were both broken, bent, and dripping with blot.

But it's caw...it was like it was encouraging him, and for the first time, Jaxon accepted encouragement. Because he knew that this crow, this blot monster, had his back.

The two of them had torn apart the room in their short stay. Crowley still lays unconscious on the ground, and continuously being surrounded by fear.

Now that he was overblotted, his magic was so much stronger than before and it felt so natural to keep using it. It didn't even hurt at all like it usually did. So, he kept his magic up, and around him at all times. Even though he couldn't feel it himself, he knew that the range of his magic was much further than before.

Jaxon chuckled to himself. As long as he was like this, no one would look down on him again or tell him what to do. And with the headmage staying unconscious and paralyzed in fear...Night Raven College was under Jaxon's control. With him in charge, things would be different. There wouldn't be any rules, just people doing whatever they want.

He just had to get rid of anyone who stood in his way.

Many of the Night Raven College students had woken up that night from nightmares, or general fear. They all had a sense of uneasiness and anxiety about...something. Most didn't know what it was, but those that had felt this before...they were freaking out.

All the anxiety built up between students was enough for each of the housewardens to try and reach out to the staff.

Leona was a bit more on edge than others. This feeling, he knew it was Jaxon's unique magic. He's felt it before. And if he could feel it all the way from Savanaclaw...it wasn't good. While normally he wouldn't do so much late at night, Leona felt he had to do something. So he traveled through the magic mirror to the main school building.

When he got to the other side, the other housewardens were just arriving there. A few seemed on edge while other's didn't seem to have as much of a reaction. Riddle and Idia seemed the most on edge (well, as on edge as a tablet could seem). It seemed they were all a bit concerned about the strange anxiety, but it was even more intense now that they were in the school.

Trein was already in the hall of mirrors when they arrived. It seemed like he was waiting for them."

"Professor Trein, what's going on? Everyone in Scarabia woke up from nightmares and started panicking for no reason at all."

"Heartslabyul is in a similar state."

"As is Pomefiore, and I imagine the rest of the dorms."

Trein cleared his throat before speaking.

"There's been a bit of a situation here at the school. Crewel and Vargas are working on it as we speak."

"Young Crowley has overblotted, correct?"

"...you are correct."

"This magic can only be his. If he has overblotted, Crewel and Vargas must be facing intense fear as we speak."

"Where is the headmage? Surely he's doing something about all of this."

"We can't say for sure, but we speculate he has already tried to stop Jaxon and failed."

"Jaxon had to go meet with him not long ago. That's probably where it started."

"You are probably right. It's best for now if all students stay in their dorms while us staff handle the situation."

"If he's overblotted, we have to help him!"

"Are you crazy? Trying to fight someone who can literally make you pass out from fear is insane. We are no where near leveled enough for that fight."

"It does sound like a rather unfair fight. All the odds would be stacked against us. And I for one have no interest in passing out."

"There's no need to debate this. The staff will handle this situation. You all should head back and look over your dorms."

"It doesn't sound like the fight is going very much in Vargas or Crewel's favor."

Sure enough, if Leona listened closely, he too could hear how the fight was going. From the sounds of it, Crewel was the only one still fighting, and it didn't sound like he had much in him left.

"Crewel is gonna collapse pretty soon, and Vargas already has."

"That guy already took a brute like Vargas down? And you want to go fight him? Sounds like an instant KO to me."

"Say what you want. I'm gonna go stop him."

"I cannot allow you to do that Kingscholar."

"Crewel is about to pass out. If someone doesn't try to go help him, he's going to chew through all of his magic and die. He's a part of Savanaclaw, and I'm not just going to let him die. Try and stop me if you want, but I'm going."

"I'll go with you Leona!"

"Oi, Riddle. You come along too."

"What? Wouldn't me coming along make him more aggressive?"

"If you can use your magic on him to cut off his magic for even a second, it'll help. The closer we get to him, the more afraid we're gonna feel. If you can disable that then we stand a better chance."

"Even if it gets disabled for a second, that's not a lot of time for you to get close and attack. How are you going to fight him like that?"

"We just have to keep fighting off the fear when it hits us."

Jaxon was getting sick of it. Vargas and Crewel just had to stand in his way. It didn't matter too much though. Jaxon was never bad at using his magic to fight, he just preferred to use his fists. All he had to do was fight off their magic and then focus his on them. Then, they would pass out from all the fear.

Once they were out of the way, he could start to do whatever he wants. Then, he could finally feel...at peace. He wouldn't feel any of this anger, any of this sadness, any of this guilt, and of this regret, or any of this pain. He could start to be happy on his own.

On his own...

Yes. He had to be on his own. No one else would want to be near him anyway. But that's fine, because he doesn't need anyone else.

But...why did it hurt so much to think about spending his life alone?

That, he couldn't understand. But it didn't matter right now, he just had to get through this. Just one more obstacle.

Jaxon felt a wave of relief hit him as soon as Crewel fell to the ground. This was it. He was so close to being able to live that free life he wanted, so close to being himself, so close to being happy. Maybe he could even go find her, his mother.

She'd understand everything. She always did. She wouldn't judge him for anything he did, and she'd accept him. No, she would love him. Just like she used to. She was the only one who would ever care about him, and that was all he needed. But where would he even begin to look?

He didn't get much time to think too much about it. Not long after Crewel feel, he heard more people rushing his way. Why is it that when he doesn't want anyone near him, that they all suddenly want to be near him?

The group stopped as they rounded the corner to see him. Sure enough, they all felt more afraid of him than ever. While Leona looked more frustrated and ready to fight, Riddle and Kalim showed more fear and looked like they wanted to hide away.

Only three people? This would be easier than he thought. Two of them already were terrified, so it wouldn't take much to make them pass out from fear. Leona would be a bit trickier though.

The giant crow of blot behind him let out a loud caw as Jaxon got ready to fight. But before he could, he was stopped.

"Off with your head!"

What was happening? His magic was cut off? And there's something else around his neck.

Leona charged up and set off some magical attacks with Kalim, as Jaxon was stunned. They were lucky enough to get a few good shots in before the collar snapped off his neck. It must've been that Heartslabyul guy's magic that did that.

"How annoying."

As soon as his magic was back full force, he turned to focus it all onto Riddle. The small boy squeaked at the increasing fear before Leona stepped in front of him.

"You're the one being annoying here Jaxon. I'm not a big fan of feeling all this anxiety because of you."

He fired more magic at Jaxon in which Jaxon fired some of his own back.

"Then just walk away. You know the further away you get, the less you'll feel. Isn't that one of the many reasons to avoid me?"

Jaxon was collared again, and they took the second they had to fire off some of their stronger attacks. All of them hit, and Jaxon seemed to be getting more frustrated.

"They're all just cowards. I'm not afraid of you, you're just being annoying."

"I don't want to avoid you either! You were supposed to join the music club and I was really excited to meet you!"

They must be lying. Everyone is afraid of him. Everyone wants to stay away from him. No one would want to meet someone like him.

Everyone hates him. That's how it's always been. That's how it always will be.

"Impossible. No one would ever want to meet me. I'm hated by everyone."

"Oh quit it with the pity party. I could've not even come and left you to die."

That comment stunned Jaxon for another second. It was long enough to be collared again by Riddle, and for each of them to do their final attacks.

And Jaxon was defeated by just the three of them.

To be defeated by the three of them...he should feel ashamed. But he didn't. Why didn't he?

He wasn't sure. If he was being honest, he didn't know what he was supposed to feel.

What Leona said...that was his way of saying he cared? Was that...the truth? Even if it was, could Jaxon even accept that. He didn't know.

As he opened his eyes again, his entire body felt weak and tired. He almost couldn't bring himself to move as he stared up at the school ceiling.

He for sure was going to be harshly punished for this. He'll probably even be expelled forever. There goes that second chance. Now he really gets to be alone and abandoned.

Jaxon felt his leg be lightly kicked before Leona hovered above him.

"Oi. You gonna get up?"

"Can't you just let me lay in my failure?"

"Not after all that. I could've been sleeping right now, but you had to go overblot."

Jaxon groaned and slapped one of his hands on top of his face.

"Are you okay Jaxon?"

"Does it really matter?"

"You can't get up, can't you?"

Leona sighed at Jaxon's silence, and leaned down to grab his arms. He pulled Jaxon up and pulled his arms over his shoulders. That way Leona could pull Jaxon along and help him a bit.

"Leona."

"What?"

"...Thanks."

"You must've hit your head or something if you're thanking me."

"Yeah. Don't expect to hear it again."

"Good. If I did, that would mean there's something wrong with you."

"We should get him to the infirmary."

"Yeah yeah. We'll get there."

"I'll go update professor Trein on the situation."

As Jaxon was dragged to the infirmary by Leona and Kalim, he couldn't help but get lost in his thoughts.

He wouldn't be able to do much now that he's back to normal. As soon as Crowley wakes up, he'll probably kick Jaxon out of the school and leave him to fend for himself. Jaxon had to prepare himself for that.

There was no getting out of this one. And once again, he couldn't help but feel like he deserved each piece of punishment that came his way. But, he also realized that maybe he wasn't as alone and hated as he originally thought.

If only he'd realized it sooner.

[honorary-fool]

Nameless Bard Cosplay Breakdown

Why? Why not (I want to share my creation especially with seeing so many tiktok cosplays of them, but never any guides/posts about how people. did stuff for them /lh)

I..don't know how well screen-readers will handle such a long post. I hope it works out okay.

Note: final image does not have alt image text at the time of posting, but I intend to add it later on

add alt text to images (all minus final since that would be a picture from the morning of)

Cloak

This thing is LONG. I'm about 5'1/155 cm, and this thing goes down to my KNEES (& big hood too!)

The inside fabric is from old off-white/beige bedsheets, and the outside fabric was from joann's (link).

I used a pattern from Aliceincosplayland on Etsy (link) (note: you don't need to buy a pattern to make a cloak- I bought it because of the different options between the lengths & hood sizes) ; for mine, I used the knee-length pattern & the larger hood size.

The large covered hook & eye also from joann's (link).

POCKETS! There's 2 small pockets close to the edges, & a bigger one I added this year to fit things like my PDM, testing kit, battery pack, etc. The smaller pockets have wooden buttons & button holes, the bigger one has a snap w/ a wooden button hot-glued on top because I didn't wanna tinker with the button hole foot.

Windblume Flower

I forgot what I traced but I made patterns for the leaves and petals & used a tutorial to make the tassels with red embroidery thread.

It's made of felt, hot glue, and I hand-sewed some bits like the button in the middle. It's also removable & fastens via safety pin sewed into the back.

Shirt

I gotta be honest, I forgot to work on it and tried to finish it about a week before the con. It looked like it was going well, but little errors made it look not up to the standard I was holding myself to and I hated it. I didn't even add the finishing touches with the shirt's collar's closure, or the ruffles on the cuffs of the sleeves. Instead, I'm using the original shirt I got off amazon last year (link), which I'm glad I kept intact when trying t make the second version's pattern.

I wanted to make another variation that was closer to his canonical outfit and was not made out of that plasticky fabric material (not that it was uncomfy, I just thought it'd be better for a convention center with a lotta people). The arm holes were a bit too big, the neck hole was a bit snug, and I botched the collar almost entirely. Lesson learned, make mockups and do not procrastinate on your projects until the week before the event.

I have the picture of it in this post.

If it counts, last year I made a slight alteration to the original shirt in which I sewed part of the slit in the top so it didn't go as deep. That's about it, honestly.

Shorts

Honestly, these weren't too bad overall. I cut the triangle panels out of white fabric, used embroidery thread for the criss-cross bits, and hand-sewed said panels onto the shorts.

It's great 'cus it has pockets and it's adjustable with the drawstring on the inside.

Wig

This fucker (part 2)

I combined a wig off Amazon (link) with wefts from hair extensions (link; though it comes with two I used just under one weft for both briads) to get the general shape

I went into detail on how I redid it here (also where the pictures are) but to sum it up: washed out hairspray/gel from last year, trimmed & rebraided the longer strands, used hairspray to do the bangs & gel to fix the ends.

Belt

I had this old brown fabric from an old sewing class project that I used. I measured the length by putting the rest of the costume on and using a measuring tape, overlapping a little so there was room to add the snaps for a closure. I think I used the trim from an old bedsheet and put it on either of the longer ends, then painted it yellow to match the bard's. Semi-reliable snap closure sewn in later, then boom, belt!

Lyre Prop

I forgot what I traced to make this pattern too, but I made it out of felt, essentially a stuffed toy. The little bar bit at the top is a separate pattern piece, as I tried making it all into one and was unable to turn it inside out. I forgot what kind of cord/string I used for the lyre strings, I just remember using mod podge to stiffen it as a finishing touch.

I used it last year as a prop, but I ended up just carrying it around so it might be best to leave home unless you plan to take a lotta pictures.

Miscellaneous Parts

Corset Belt: bought off amazon (link) ; It's comfy for the most part. liked the idea of a faux corset as opposed to the vest

Boots: last year I used a different set of boots that I've had for years, this year I'm using slightly newer boots that I got off my brother since they're small on him. They're timberlands I think? A li'l bit of height, lace-up, slight heel, feels 3% more badass /j

Makeup: I... know very little about makeup. I highly doubt the bard used makeup back then (/j). With that in mind, I really just use black eyeshadow & an eyebrow brush to fill my brows in and that's it. I use an old eyeshadow palette, but I also have an eyeshadow stick from the dollar store that works if you wet it slightly (mostly because it's a year old and is dried out by now..probably).

Wisp Prop: Touched on in this post, I like to take along one of my wisp dolls- the second one I've ever made, specifically. Made with my own personal pattern, he's easy to tuck away into a smaller pocket with just his head sticking out. I'll never forget the excitement of the Bennett and Fischl cosplayers I ran into last year when I took the wisp out to show them. 100/10, easily my favorite prop. The only real change made to him is that he has glow in the dark paint on his eyes, which probably won't do much in a convention setting but I still think it's cool.

Sword Prop: Very unnecessary & impromptu, but also very fun. At last year's con there was a vendor selling foam game/anime weapons and I got a foam Freedom Sworn. At the time of writing this out, I'm unsure if I will be taking it with me this year or not, since I can't exactly store it under my cloak when I'm not holding it.

Final Reveal!

(like I said at the top, this image is the only one w/out alt image text; I'll add it later)

(face scribbled over for comfort reasons)

[coramatus]

Under the City Streets (part 11)

Both ravaged by the Unknown, two brothers find each other again. It goes poorly.

The final refined version of this early drabble.

For the bigger picture of everything that’s happened, read part 9.

For a quieter moment with Emmet, read part 10.

When Emmet and the Woodsman meet for the third time in the Unknown, it’s a complete accident.

Emmet, still hurting from the knowledge of what Volo’s selfishness wrought; still nursing a badly burned and aching arm; simply turns a corner in the dark forest path and finds his brother standing right there.

The two stop and stare at each other.

Neither speak for what feels like an eternity.

“It’s you again…” the Woodsman finally says.

He looks conflicted this time. He desperately wants to believe Emmet has been nothing but a Zoroark’s trick. But something in him that's only been getting louder tells him to stop and listen. The things he’s been starting to grasp about his situation as the Unknown’s Woodsman, the things he’d tried to ignore as he fulfilled his duties, all the little wrong things are starting to pile up. His conviction has been shaken and he’s teetering on the precipice of something terrifying.

He knows that this meeting with Emmet is what will or will not push him over that edge.

“Ingo…” Emmet whispers.

The Unknown has not been kind to him.

In the stark light of the Woodsman’s lantern, the full extent of Emmet’s battered state is all too clear. Cuts and bruises mark his face. His eyes have deep shadows under them, his skin paler than the Woodsman remembers. His shoulders sag with the weight of exhaustion and sadness. His clothes too are stained, muddy, and burnt. His once pristine gloves are shredded and filthy, the fingertips long torn away. His dress shirt has been torn open to reveal the singlet underneath. The ends of his greatcoat are missing, left in tatters as if something with massive sharp teeth ripped it out. Half his right sleeve is gone too as is the cuff of his left. He clutches his right arm, bandaged with the remains of his frayed tie and trembling in obvious pain.

Emmet sighs.

“Where is he?” is all he asks. His face is expressionless.

He looks wrong.

why isn’t he smiling he’s always smiling what is going on??

“Who?” the Woodsman asks instead, trying to look impassive.

Emmet’s eyes are dull as he looks into the Woodsman’s, dulled with such sadness as he presses on, exhausted, “Your brother. Where is he?”

“Somewhere safe,” the Woodsman answers stiffly with narrowed eyes, hoping it keeps his voice from wavering.

Emmet stares evenly at him. His dull, gray gaze moves to the lantern in the Woodsman’s hand.

“You’re lying. It’s that lantern, isn’t it?” he says. There’s no accusation there. Only the truth. “You think that’s your brother.”

The Woodsman says nothing, merely angling the lantern protectively behind him.

“I don’t know why else you would obsess over that damn thing,” Emmet says with a humorless laugh. He points at it disparagingly, his normally flat voice rising with indignant fury as he verbally tears into it, “Look at it. It’s not even up to modern regulation; those were phased out a century ago! They’re fire hazards! You know how many people those things have burned to death because their oil spilled after a simple collision. It’s the least safe thing a Subway Boss could ever carry around!”

He is absolutely right. He should be ashamed.

The Woodsman cuts him off with a shaking, fearful question, “What do you want?”

Emmet holds out his hand, his eyes imploring, “Come home. This is not your home. That is not your brother. You do not belong here.”

He takes a step forward.

“Ingo, please…”

The Woodsman reacts blindly.

“Stay back!” he snarls as he swings his axe at Emmet.

Emmet is supposed to duck, to back away, to give him room to think. He isn’t trying to hit him.

But Emmet doesn’t move to dodge it. He doesn’t even flinch.

A shallow cut opens on his cheek.

It’s like the Woodsman has been punched in the gut, the sight stealing his breath away in horror. He barely notices he’s dropped both the lantern and his axe to cover his mouth.

i did that i did that i did that i hurt my little brother

Emmet stands in stunned silence before he raises a hand to the cut. His fingers come away bright red with blood.

The Woodsman chokes back a whimper.

what is happening why is everything so wrong what am i doing

Emmet’s eyes, though dull, briefly focus in on him as he asks,

“Ingo… if that’s your brother, then what is his name?”

The Woodsman starts to answer… but stops.

…

He realizes… he has no idea.

“H-his name…” the Woodsman stutters, his breaths racing, racking his mind, searching, searching, searching, “He… your name… I don’t…”

There is nothing.

He has never known his brother’s name.

“I-! I don’t know!!” he cries, his fingers fisting in his hair, tears building in his eyes.

Why doesn’t he know?!

He feels a gentle hand on his arm and he gasps as he looks up to find Emmet standing before him. Despite the blood running down his cheek, a spark of hope shines in his eyes.

“Your brother’s name is Emmet,” he says, a tearful smile on his face. “I am Emmet. I am your brother, Ingo.”

The Woodsman stares…

And flees.

It takes all of his willpower to ignore the pained gasp behind him, the sound of the last scraps of hope finally dying.

Everything is falling apart for him. Everything he thought he knew is unraveling right before his eyes. Everything he had done was all for a lie. Three years of lies, lies, and more lies.

He can’t take it anymore.

So he runs.

Emmet doesn’t follow.

He lets his brother run from him.

He lets the fresh wave of pain carve itself deep into his burnt arm.

When the crashing of brush stops, when the Woodsman throws himself behind a tree, sliding down its trunk into a crumpled heap, heaving in frantic lungfuls of air as he sobs, Emmet wordlessly regards his brother’s abandoned axe and lantern and simply projects his voice into the dark and still forest, hoping he is listening.

“I am Emmet. I will not chase you. I know you need… you need time. I am sorry I could not help you more. Please… find me… if you want to.”

With the most sorrow he’s ever felt, he adopts his signature point-and-call pose. Tears trail down his face as he recites his opening battle speech.

“Follow the rules. Safe driving.”

“…f-follow the schedule,” the shocked Woodsman finds himself reciting in sync with Emmet.

He knows this speech.

He can’t won’t stop himself.

“Everybody smile,” Emmet continues, “Check safety.”

“Everything's ready. Aim for victory,” the Woodsman whispers along.

He knows every word by heart.

“All aboard,” they repeat in unison, tears streaming down both their faces.

He’s heartbroken that he has to do this, but Emmet turns around and leaves. He is crying.

The Woodsman is crying too.

Part 12

[petri808]

A birthday smut fic for my first fan and now friend since 2017. Enjoy you slut lol @random-rave

*note takes place after latest manga chapters

While Loid finishes fixing his shirt cuffs, he reminds Yor about his plans. “I should be back before next week from the psychology conference. You’re sure you’ll be fine with Anya, or I can ask Frankie to babysit.” These longer missions of more than a day or two are starting to get under his skin. He suspects but won’t accept why and pushes on with his job.

“I’ll be totally fine. It’s only four days,” Yor smiles and helps him put on and button his suit jacket. Then she hands him his small suitcase. “Enjoy the conference, Loid.”

“It’ll likely be boring, but I’ll try,” he laughs and waves as he walks out the door.  

It’s perfect timing for Yor that Loid must fly to another country for a conference because she too has something to do. Unbeknownst to him, she’s arranged for Anya to spend the weekend at Becky Blackwell’s home, so that’ll give her plenty of time to get where she needs to go and back home in time to pick Anya up. She doesn’t feel great about lying to Loid and Anya, and it tore at her a bit, but she also can’t turn Garden down because of the debt she believes she owes them. 

Shopkeeper gives her the details of the mission, to slip into a home on the outskirts of the city and detain a subject believed to be trading in some kind of black-market goods. That’s all he’ll say, but here’s the strange part. Shopkeeper drills into her that when she arrives at the home at the pre-determined time, take whoever she encounters. When she asks for a better description, he responds the subject often changes his appearances, so they waited for intelligence to pin down where and when he’ll be somewhere to increase the chance of catching him.

“The subject is male, and approximately 6 feet tall, on the thinner rather than heavier set side. Now remember,” Shopkeeper repeats, “Be at the location, in the bedroom by 2 o’clock am and grab the first person that shows up. It’ll be him.”

So, the male subject is about the same height and frame build as Loid, Yor notes. Isn’t it crazy how the subject’s description can easily describe Loid, she thinks to herself. ‘Idiot,’ she scolds, that’s plain silly because it also describes a lot of other people in Ostania. This person sounds like a spy or at least a shady character if they’re often hiding their appearance, ‘and that’s definitely not Loid,’ Yor thinks to herself. Loid’s a popular doctor at the hospital and frankly she would notice if he was slipping out at odd hours or do black market dealings.   

The time has come, and Yor arrives at the location two hours earlier to scope it out. It’s an unassuming home, off whitish two-story with a dark-colored roof and a fenced yard. Even the neighborhood is made up of regular citizens. There is an open carport attached on the left-side of the building, curiously with no evidence of a car ever using it such as demarcations, old oil, grease, or rubber staining the concrete floor. The open-grass landscaping is kept nicely trimmed. After checking the surrounding area, she goes inside where it is pitch black because the streetlights illuminating the sidewalk are blocked by curtains, and dead silence, not even the hum of a refrigerator. In the home’s layout, the staircase is against the left side wall opposite the carport outside, and instead of an open banister design, a wall covers the underneath portion to create a closet and raises up seamlessly into a handrail support for the stairs. She doesn’t sense anything amiss so far and creeps upstairs towards the bedroom, noting the layout for an escape route as she moves. There’s a utility room, kitchen, half-bath, living room, and a dining room downstairs, while upstairs has three bedrooms, one slightly bigger than the others, and a single bathroom. Yor notes the sparse furnishings in the home, surmising it is just a facade. Since she didn’t find anything to suggest it, the place appears to be normal building. The sound of a dog barking a short distance away puts Yor in ready mode. Only a few more minutes left as she hunkers down in place.

Tick, tock… Tick, tock… Tick, tock… in the silent room, Yor’s biological clock counts down, hyper in tuned to the slightest sounds, her heart beating, to the crickets chirping outside. She hears metal sliding, perhaps a knob, then a hinge from a door opening then closing. Then sees the faint light of the downstairs living room peeking into the bedrooms open door. He’s here. More sounds comparable to moving around comfortably in a familiar place. The faint shifting wisp from looking out a curtain. A faint soft squish of a cushion being compressed indicating he’s sitting in the one single chair instead of the couch. A click of possibly an attaché case and the rustling of papers. Now that she knows his whereabouts, Yor creeps down the stairs planning on surprising the guy from behind to knock him out. She moves as carefully as she can on the wooden stairs, realizing any step could create a sound at any moment. So far, so good, Yor doesn’t hear any indications that the subject has moved from the chair. When she gets to the v point, she is no longer protected by a complete wall because the handrail portion begins. So, she stops to scope out the room and peaks. 

A loud bang— a bullet wizzes’ mere centimeters past Yor’s face and strikes the wall. Damn it! Yor pops up ready to vault over the handrail when she hears a familiar voice. Thinking it’s Loid, she steps out of the shadows to see a tall male with a similar build, but this man has brown hair and a mustache. Shit! Yor ducks down again, what is she thinking being so stupidly reckless like that! Just because he sounds like Loid, idiot she scolds herself, she could’ve been shot! Why is Loid’s voice the first to come to mind anyway as if he’d be here? ‘Get it together!’ she snaps at herself. 

“Yor?” That familiar voice calls out. 

‘How does he know my name?! And why isn’t he doing anything?! Wait and me?! Why am I hesitating?! Damn it! Damn it!’ Yor adjusts her grips on her thorns and in one fail swoop jumps up, vaults over the rail, and lands beside the couch in the living room. 

With less than ten feet between them, it’s a tense few seconds. “Wait!” The voice calls out, but Yor is determined to do her job and lunges at him. “Damn it!” He yells as he throws a lamp from a table next to him, but she sidesteps it and swings a thorn at his head forcing him to duck and lean back to avoid it. He tries to grab her thorn while leaning to no avail, but can slap it away, spin slowly, and use natural velocity to also push her arm and step past her to get away. Facing off as she stands with her thorns raised and ready to move, he tries one last time by holding up his hands. “Yor!” He rips off his wig and fake mustache. “It’s me!”

Her ruby eyes almost flash as they widen in shock. “L-Loid?” Yor is genuinely stunned causing her arms to lower unconsciously. “It can’t be…”

“It is me!” Loid pleads… yet ‘why am I hesitating. My mission was to secure the subject found in this location. I don’t know why Yor is here, but if she’s the Thorn Princess, she’s on a mission of her own. Stop it!’ His conscious snaps. ‘Forget the mission for now idiot! It’s obvious why you’re hesitating!’ Ever since the Wheeler spy mission Loid had to face the fact his affections for Yor are no longer platonic. She and Anya have become a real family in his heart. He’d become a spy to protect and keep families like this one from suffering like he had and so, to deny and destroy this little Forger family would be contrary to his convictions and beliefs. He thought he could simply bury the feelings and carry on. If nothing was ever brought to light by the end of the mission, he would simply pursue her naturally. Well, now the quandary is, does he give in to his heart or stay loyal to the mission?  

Yor shakes her head, this must be one of the subject’s tactics she was warned about! And the fact this guy is using her husband’s face flips her wrath button. “They warned me about the appearance changes, so I know you’re a fake!” She screams with a bloodlust oozing from her tone. Narrowing her gaze, she levels a thorn in his direction. “How dare you use my beloved husband for your twisted games!” And launches at him like a chained tiger that hasn’t had a meal in ages.

With blow after blow coming his way, there’s no time for Loid to process any of this, but that doesn’t stop his mind from replaying the words ‘beloved husband’ over and over again. The thing is, he knows that at full performance he’s no match for Yor and it’s obvious she doesn’t yet believe him. But that means those two simple words are the key. He needs to find the lock and convince her quick before she really does take him out. “I’m sure they told you be suspicious, but Yor, I swear, it’s me Loid!” During a moment of deadlock, he drops the gun in a display of truth, refusing to use it on her. 

“Liar!” Yor screams.

When Yor turns her head, ‘did I just see a quick sparkle in her eyes from tears?’ Loid wonders. “You asked me to not be so perfect, well here I am, imperfect, a spy who’d just destroyed his mission. Is that not enough?”

“Lies!” She screams again, but this time the tears are fully evident as a few spills down her cheek. Yor presses forward again, the faster she ends this, the faster she stops this fraudulent pain. She swings her thorn at his face, but he moves quick enough that she ends up slashing his chest instead. The man makes a hiss-like sound and covers his chest, touching and revealing the damage on his red-stained hand. She could see it cut through about seven inches across the upper center while the torn fabric of the man’s shirt and jacket flap open to show a painful but not deadly strike… But it’s enough to make Yor think twice. Maybe it’s because of the Loid face, because her instant reaction is as if came home injured. “Oh, no!” She drops the thorns and starts to reach out to help him, and she almost succeeds when she snaps out of it. She moves back a few steps, forgetting to pick up her thorns in the process. Her mind is just reeling. What if this is Loid, can she complete the job and kill him? Or will she choose to stay loyal to the Garden? And it’s not just about Loid, what about Anya? She can’t, just can’t hurt this child who’s become, real or not, her daughter. 

The reason Yor continues to do this gruesome job is to stop children from becoming orphans, so how could she live with herself after turning Anya into one? Wait! ‘He’s fake, he’s fake! You’ll protect Anya by stopping him!’ “I won’t let you trick me!” 

“I’m not!” Loid yells as he throws his arms up to block a punch to his face. But this time Yor appears to be tuning him out and hyper focusing on the fight as she throws punches, straight jabs, and kicks at a pace that he can barely keep up with. It’s just like the mock fight at the fake castle where Yor was winning and if she hadn’t knocked out, he would have been the one ending up on the ground out cold. For every four or five jousting strikes from Yor, Loid will get in one punch or maybe a kick. He doesn’t want to actually hurt her, just keep her from hurting him too badly. Her internal turmoil is evident by the tears she sheds despite her unrelenting blows. “Remember the night I asked you to marry me, and I lost the ring because of those bad men?” Even having to psychologically manipulate Yor hurts Loid, but he knows he cannot stop. “How about the first time I met your brother? Remember when we almost kissed but Yuri stopped us? Or that day in the park when you knocked me out and I woke up sleeping on your lap?” He manages to bear hug Yor from the back briefly. “Yor please! I… I‘ve fallen in love with you!”

Yor breaks free from his grip and knocks him backwards by jamming her elbows into his abdomen. She spins around fuming and crying. “See, fake! Loid doesn’t love me, it’s just for Anya! You bastard!” She makes a move and grabs one of her thorns. 

The genuine tears tell Loid Yor is at the breaking point. As soon as she grabs the thorn and plants her stance ready to rush him again, Loid does the only thing left he can think of. He drops to his knees with his hands up in concession, his head lower and shoulders slump in defeat. Surprisingly, it works immediately and Yor stops. He exhales loudly with genuine exhaustion and pain. “I tried so hard to deny that I’ve fallen for you, even when it’s right in front of my face. But for the first time since the war took my parents, something other than stopping another one finally took precedence.” Loid looks up with a genuine half-smile and tears streaming down his cheeks too. “You and Anya have become the family I lost. I lost one, just like you and Yuri, and I don’t want to lose another.”

“H-How are you so sure?” Yor’s heart is wavering, and mind is spinning. She tries so hard to ignore his words, these feelings roiling inside of her and do her job, but how can she? The longer she fights, those words circle around, and becomes twice as painful. Her own jabs cutting her deeply instead.

“More and more my resolve started cracking. I made mistakes or was distracted in ways that never happened before. Heh… Unyielding loyalty and emotional numbness… It’s how I became Twilight,” Loid shrugs. “I don’t regret it. I want to protect people, but…” He looks up with a genuinely tired smile, “guess the hearts something no one can control forever. I’d start thinking about you during the day, sometimes catch myself looking at you, but the final evidence… remember the night I came home when you asked me to let you help me, then Yuri came barging in? Well, that day he and I in disguise were after the same person and there came a point after he’d shot me in the arm, I hesitated to shoot back because I didn’t want to hurt you, so I just knocked him out and got out of there...”

A clanging sound causes Loid to look up. Yor has dropped the thorn, her body is shaking, she’s quietly sobbing, almost catatonic. He instantly stumbles to his feet to catch her as she sways, gently pulling her down with him into a seated position in his lap. “It’s okay, shhh, it’s okay,” Loid coos, hugging her tightly, resting his face to hers while soothing, smoothing his hand up and down her back with gentle pressure as their salty wet cheeks stick together. 

“I can’t do it,” Yor blubbers, “I can’t, not to Anya… I love you both too much! I’m a failure!”

“Yor,” he clasps her cheeks and forces her to look at him. “You are not a failure!” Loid shakes her, “Yor you are perfect! Look at how great of a mother you are to Anya and a sister to Yuri! They couldn’t be luckier to have you, and neither can I! I’m glad for that chance encounter at the tailors, because I couldn’t have chosen a better wife and mother to create a family with!”

“You-You really think so?” The absolute hope in her eyes… Her ruby gaze sparkling from all the moisture.

Loid smiles and caresses her cheek. “Even Yuri would have to agree with me.” Yor snorts a laugh at his choice of words, finally showing a glimmer of light. He laughs too as he cups and gently thumbs her cheek, keeping their eyes locked while leaning in. “You’re so beautiful…” he murmurs, with bated breath, their eyes closing slowly until the pressure of their lips seals the moment. 

For once, neither are nervous or scared for the long overdue and dormant awakening of such a powerful emotional synergy like love refuses to allow reason any chance to halt this beautifully passionate moment. Yor’s soft, sultry lips against his, short circuits the fastidious Twilight into a different sort of mission. He’s slept with countless women as part of his job, just going through the motions in a dispassionate manner— so, to make love to someone he cares for finally takes his virginity. Even their battle itself, the adrenaline rush of physical combat still runs through their veins. He’s always been amazed by Yor’s strength and physical fighting capabilities that meets and exceeds his own, making her his perfect match in every way. Frankly, it stirs more than just his heart as his primal side cannot ignore the thought anymore of her thighs cinched around him.       

In a slow, fluid motion, Loid guides Yor into a supine position on the carpet, soothing away her reactive tension by pressuring his kisses and threading his fingers through her hair close to the scalp, and supporting her head in his hand. He lies beside her on his side with a leg stationed between hers as support, so she doesn’t feel trapped yet and reacts because he knows she doesn’t have any experience in this field. “Does this feel okay?” Loid quietly questions between the heated kisses, “should I stop?” 

Oh, Yor feels the hard subject of this act pressing against her, yet she shakes her head ‘no’ whole heartedly without thinking of the answer. She’s spent her whole life caring for her brother and being an assassin, but she’s still a woman who feels biological urges. The girls at work often spoke of this topic and Yor will just nod along or feel embarrassed just listening, yet curious. “I-I want this too…” She blushes and hides her gaze, “but I don’t know what to do.”  

“Just like learning to fight,” he chuckles and places more amorous kisses. “I’ll lead, you follow.”

A look of happy relief floods Yor’s expression. “O-Okay! I trust you.”

Those three words… Loid pauses briefly from it because he knows she means it, but after just having learned they were enemies, it’s still a surprise to say it so easily. His eyes soften, almost tearing. “I trust you too.” 

He sits up and removes his jacket and shirt, bringing a bright flush to Yor’s cheeks. It’s not the first time she’s seen his chest, but it is the first time she’s really seen his chest in that way. She sits up as well and after Loid helps to unzip the back of her dress, she slips everything off until nothing is left. Now it’s his turn to blush since it is the first time ever seeing her like this. Loid unconsciously sucks in a breath of air to relieve the lack of oxygen to his brain, and at the same time a “wow” slips out causing Yor to hide her body with her arms. So, he quickly finishes removing the rest of his clothes before the embarrassment changes her mind. On the flip side of this duo, when Yor sees everything, he has to offer, her eyes widen and stares at Loid with the look of a lioness eyeing a fresh piece of meat. Something inside of Loid snaps. With a partial growl, from seated on his haunches, he suddenly grabs Yor by the waist and pulls her over and onto, straddling his lap. 

She squeaks in surprise from the move, gasping when the feel of his hard and fleshy cock presses dead center to her folds. Her arms wrap around his neck instinctively to keep from falling, but between his left hand and his thighs holding her up from her rump, Yor is securely in place. She’s given no time to process, as Loid’s mouth latches onto her right nape, trailing pecks and sucking gently but firmly along the skin of her shoulder and back. Only fevered moans break free from her, and thighs clamping tighter around his waist, pressing, and rubbing, fueling the smoldering burn in her core. 

Loid continues his oral ministrations, leaning back while using his thighs to raise her up and arch her back, his right-hand assists and guides her voluminous breasts within range. His tongue licks and pulses, pressures and sucks at the supple skin leaving pin-prick hemorrhages and future bruises, while his teeth graze the nipples to pull shuddering shivers and high-pitched moans that are music to his ears. There’s a throbbing ache ever present to remind him other parts want to play too, but with this being such a special time, there’s no way he’s rushing it. Yor isn’t making it any easier on him. The longer he toys and teases, the harder her hips start grinding in desperation. So, he changes tactics. Without warning, Loid puts Yor on her back startling and causing her legs to release their grip. He quickly shifts into a semi prone position, lifting her hips, hiking her legs over his shoulders, and diving in between her thighs to dine out. It happens so fast, all Yor can do is gasp and cry out a lustful moan that sends a shiver racing along his spine. 

The sounds of a salaciously wet dining experience melding with Yor’s breathy mewls and erotic moans fill the air. It’s like nothing she’s ever experienced before. Even the high of taking out some really bad men never gave her this much of a rush! Heaven help her, when Loid sucks hard on her clit, the stars flash and dance behind her eye lids, but when his teeth graze them… wow, the intense electrical shocks rippling through her body are sending her to the moon. “Loid!” Yor springs up onto her elbows in shock as his tongue pushes into her entrance, but quickly flops back with an arch to her back when his mouth forms a vacuum seal and the pressure along with him violating her hole becomes too much. “Loid!!” She cries out again, fueling him to push his tongue harder and faster to stimulate this area rich in nerve-endings. The aching, burning coil building within the pit of her stomach is too tight… Yor doesn’t know what this really means, but it’s taking away any power she has to control her actions. His name forms on her lips but cuts off before it can come out when a sense of an explosive force rips through her entire body. 

Loid braces as Yor’s thighs clamp down violently on his head. Her whole body locks up in a low bridge for a few seconds before collapsing into shivering convulsions from the orgasm. Her amorous cries fill the room like a beautiful serenade— the most beautiful music he’s ever heard. He holds fast, using his hands to hold her thighs and hips down as best he can contrary to her inhuman strength while slowing down on his tongue tirade to bring her back down to earth. When he feels her starting to relax, he lets her body slip back onto the carpet a heavy breathing sheen of a mess.

At that moment, Loid slides up and partially to the side of her body, propping himself on his elbows briefly, leaning in to sweep up her lips and kiss some of the sweat away from her brow. She smiles at him after he kisses her lips. “Did you enjoy that?” She nods ‘yes.’ “Good, part two now,” he grins.

“Huh?” Her eyes pop open wide. It’s not over?

Yor’s eyes track his every move while he slips between her thighs, sits back on his haunches, and lines up. She bites her lip and breathing hitches as she feels the stretching pressure from Loids cock forcing its way through. No pain, just a tingling sensation left from her still sensitive core that causes her to shiver. As she stares up at his solid frame, her eyes moving over old battle scars, Yor’s heart skips a beat at the feeling of being joined to this man. Each slight movement he makes reinforcing that physical connection. She blushes a bit when she catches him staring down at her with the same indecency in his gaze. If sex always feels like this, she’s been missing out on so much!

With her pinned hair now mussed and errant strands framing her head, Loid can’t help but feel proud of catching this deadly angel all for himself. Part of him wants to ravage her body and soul, but not tonight. Enough of the heated exchanges, this is the first time he’s ever wanted to make love to a woman… and mean it. He moves into a mostly prone position, left leg extended back, with the right still based on the knee for leverage. He then guides her left leg up and coaxes it to hook behind his thigh, gripping and pulling her hip and pelvis tightly to his. The deep penetration and friction from skin rubbing against skin causes Yor to gasp a little with a shiver. Loid finally leans in, his left elbow bearing his weight, allowing his chest to settle over hers and head come to rest beside hers. He suckles at her neck while grinding and thrusting, starting off slow and steady, using the pressure and friction of their skin to heat things up. Through measured undulations— repetitive grinding that pulls mewling purrs, interspliced with a sudden longer length thrust that makes Yor whine or squeak from the deep hit. Repeating, Loid pays close attention to what gains the most rewards to service his princess in the way she deserves. This feels absolutely amazing… but it also means that Loid is hastening his own demise quickly with this position. When he feels the rising tide get too high, he changes positions slightly with both legs extending and slows down, shifting to less grinding and longer, deeper thrusts. He grips her hip to hold it from moving then pounds into her. 

Yor tightens her hook around his thigh, and grips to the back of his neck as well to make sure it goes in nice and deep. She’s loving this more than the grinding and wants to make sure she communicates her desires loud and clear. Each time Loid tries to slow down, she uses her powerful thigh muscles to pull him back to her. While it feels amazing to her, Yor’s aim is to make sure he’s satisfied too, not just her… whether he likes it or not! 

“Y-You’re gonna make me…” Loid grunts and grits his teeth as he holds back the dam. If Yor keeps this up…

“Don’t stop…” she whines, “don’t stop…” Whether she realizes it or not, her inner muscles are doubly squeezing his engorged cock to its straining point with each tightening of her thighs. 

His thrusts grow haggard and uncontrolled, breathing labored as his straining voice raises an octave… “Yor…” Loid squeezes his eyes shut when the pressure erupts, continuing to plow through the pulsing stream. 

When it finally slows, his body slumps while his breathing evens out. He kisses her lips and wraps his arms around her body, rolling them both into a side position where he curls their hips to stay connected. “Yor… I love you,” Loid whispers. Love sure makes sex feel even more amazing.  

“I love you too, Loid.” She rests her forehead to his, “But what am I going to do? Garden will expect a dead body.”

Loid thinks for a moment. It’s true they can’t compromise Yor’s standing with the Garden because that could cause more problems. “So, we’ll give them a body,” he responds. 

Yor sits up. “I don’t understand. How do we just find a dead body?”

Loid sits up as well. “I’ll take care of it.” 

The clock is ticking to create a cover for this whole situation. Loid knows WISE is going to question about Yor learning of Loid’s Twilight persona and whether she can truly be trusted, but that’ll wait for now. He calls up a sleeping Frankie and tells him to bring a prisoner that’s locked up at WISE’s headquarters to the house using the underground access tunnels, making sure to request a tall and slim guy that’ll fit the stature of who Shopkeeper believes is Twilight. Frankie finally arrives around 4 am. Loid opens the door of the closet under the stairs, moves a couple boxes, then undoes a secret hatch in the floor. He then helps Frankie bring an unconscious man up a flight of stairs from a basement looking room; Loid’s got the man’s upper half while Frankie carries the legs. As soon as they get into the living room, Frankie drops the legs when he sees Yor standing there in her Thorn Princess garb. 

“W-Wh-What?!” Frankie points at her. “Yor is the Thorn Princess! Wait, what went on—” he glances around the disheveled room with furniture upended or trashed. “Did you two fight?” His eyes get big as he now turns to Loid. “Was she supposed to kill you!” 

Yor just smiles and waves not knowing what else to do.

“We’ll explain once we’re safe,” Loid scolds Frankie. “Right now, I just need to make sure Garden doesn’t suspect Yor of anything.”

“Ohhhh.” Frankie realizes. “Hence the body.”

The two men help Yor kill the man and make it look like he’s been in a fight with the legendary Thorn Princess. A few slashes from her thorns do the trick. As they work, Frankie can’t help but keep asking, so Loid and Yor answer, explaining what happened that night— minus the sex, and that yes, they come clean about their feelings. Frankie teases Loid that it’s a good thing, because he didn’t have a chance against Thorn Princess, which made Yor blush fiercely and try to undermine her abilities. Of course, Loid tries to save face, but he does admit Yor is stronger than him. Finally, everything’s set. Body is staged. And the sun is going to rise very soon, so it’s time to go. Yor will slip out like she’d planned to originally, while Loid and Frankie will use the escape tunnel. Just as they’re about to go their separate ways, Loid gives Yor a kiss.

Frankie who’s halfway down the steps and can still see everything— “Ugh, you’re gonna talk about her even more now to tease me,” he sneers though there’s no malice to his tone. “Hurry up and let’s go!” 

While Yor blushes from the comment, Loid just ignores the man and gives her one last grinning peck on the cheek. “See you at home.”

[long-hot-stories]

Married To A Goddess: Part 7

Dan gets played by Annabelle.

Based on a post by DustinMidnight, in 9 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

She glanced at the license and asked the usual question,

“Do you know how fast you were going?”

“I was going 40…?” Dan ventured a guess, though he cursed under his breath because he hadn’t paying attention, with the combination of the unfamiliar muscle car and the sexy hitchhiker fantasy that had been occupying his brain. He couldn’t help checking out Annabelle the cop as she looked over the car registration.

 The buttons of her uniform shirt looked to be straining against her breasts. That was when he noticed that her badge and the silver insignia on her collar read “HPD.”

He wondered what the “H” stood for. Some random town in the middle of wherever this was supposed to be?

“You were going 50 in a 35,” Annabelle informed him. “I’ll have to write you a ticket. But I need to check something first.” She turned around, revealing that she was wearing a very tight pair of leather pants, and her uniform shirt was short enough that he could see the waistband of a black pair of panties. Her round ass jiggled slightly as he watched her walk back to her squad car. Dan sighed and rubbed his temples.

“Annabelle, whatever you’re planning, he groaned. "Well, this is something.” He closed his eyes and got comfortable, leaning back into the driver’s seat. Within seconds, though, there was a tapping on the side of the car. He looked to see Annabelle standing there, arms crossed, which somehow made her breasts look slightly bigger.

“Please step out of the vehicle, sir.” Her voice was demanding, like she was ready to bust a few heads. As she tipped her sunglasses down, the annoyed look in her eyes told him that she meant business. Dan did as he was told, stepping out. He stood there, still taller than the goddess/cop, though she didn’t seem to care. She grabbed him by the arm, forcing him onto the hood of the car.

“You’re under arrest for being horny!” she declared. She slapped a pair of cuffs onto Dan’s wrists, and. His face twisted into pure confusion.

“Wait, what? What do you mean, I’m under arrest for being horny?” he protested.

“Yes, I saw your erection while you handed me your license. Under the power vested in me by the Horny Police Department, I have the right to bring you in for up to ninety days. You have the right to remain silent, but anything you and your body parts do can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

“Come on, this is ridiculous. Annabelle, is there any way I can get out of this?” Dan tried to move, but his wrists chafed against the cold steel cuffs.

“That’s Officer Allnight. First name Luvin’.” She growled and pointed to her “L. Allnight” name tag, then pushed him back down onto the hood. Her arm reached around and suddenly groped him.

“Hey, what’s the big deal?!” Dan called out as he grunted. She squeezed his balls. The kind of squeezing that hurt, yet at the same time felt really good.

“I’m assessing your hidden weapon, and preparing a statement for the chief,” she growled while continuing to squeeze Dan couldn’t help but moan lightly.

“Come on, there has to be something I can do! Can’t we talk about this?” Dan exclaimed as he felt her moving hand against his jeans, really getting a feel of his cock.

A smirk appeared on the face of Officer Allnight. “You’re willing to do anything, huh? Well, I might have an idea. Get in the back of my cruiser. I think I know what you can do for me, fucker.” Her voice was demanding as she showed pure control. Dan couldn’t help but feel turned on by this. She was being so much different from her usual self; more demanding, more in control. She wasn’t holding back.

“I’ll do anything,” Dan muttered, while biting his lips. Yes, this seemed to be exactly what Annabelle wanted to hear. Her hands reached down and squeezed his ass as she muttered,

“Get in my squad car, unless you want indecent exposure and ‘horny in public’ charges.” She laughed as she grabbed his shoulder, dragging him off. It was clear he didn’t have much of a choice in the first place.

Officer Allnight shoved him in the back seat of the police car, slammed the door, then moved to the front, got in, and made a big show of slowly putting on her seat belt. She had the rear-view mirror at a perfect angle for Dan to see how her breasts jiggled as the strap slid between them. He groaned, realizing her scent had permeated the inside of the car. She smelled so good, like honeydew on a warm summer morning. He felt his cock tighten against his pants. Whatever the goddess wanted from him, she would get it. Dan was truly string around her finger. The Impala would be abandoned on the side of the road, but really, was that a bad thing? Would anyone really notice? Probably not. That was how life went sometimes. The police car siren wailed, the lights flashing, brightly and they were soon off.

Officer Allnight drove them to a neon-accented motel, looking much like the one Dan had fantasized about earlier.

She pulled into a parking space in front of a room door and ordered, “Wait right here. I’ll come and get you,” she said, as if Dan had a choice. She crossed the parking lot to the motel’s front office, eventually coming back brandishing a room key. She opened the door to the police car and dragged Dan out by his shirt collar. He grunted, trying to move, but she held on tight.

“You better be a good boy and not tell anyone about this,” she warned.

“I won’t lose my badge over you being such a horny boy!” She got the motel room door open and pushed him inside. Dan stumbled a few feet across the carpet until he fell onto the bed. The door closed behind him, and he struggled to turn over, finally managing to do it and looking up to see Officer Allnight standing over him.

She growled, “Get your pants off.” She ripped her own uniform top off, buttons flying. It revealed a dark blue bra, her breasts being pushed up invitingly. Dan got his pants off as best he could with the handcuffs on, and the officer leaned over to efficiently finish the job, then ripped open his shirt the same way she’d handled her own. He sat on the bed in only his boxers. Annabelle, or Luvin Allnight, gave a sultry smirk as she took a deep breath, inhaling the musty odor of the air conditioner that was struggling to cool this cheap motel room.

“Hmm, good boy. Now turn around and get comfortable,” she purred. Dan gulped and nodded as he turned around, getting as comfortable as he could on the bed, propping himself on the pillow. He heard her walk over, then felt her getting on the bed behind him. She grabbed his ass, firmly spanking it. Dan grunted as she smacked his ass pretty hard.

That’s gonna leave a mark, he thought as he felt her slap him again. She moved over, her body pressing against him, as she muttered,

“Hmm, such a wonderful ass. And are you going to be a good boy?” Luvin licked the back of his neck as she rubbed her firm breasts against his back.

He croaked, “Yes.”

The Goddess cop moaned and said,

“Hmm, oh, yes, you’ll be fine, you naughty boy. Now I’ll teach you about being so horny.” She moved away, kissing his back. Dan groaned as he felt her under him, squeezing and lick his balls. Her tongue was wet, making tiny circular licks on his right testicle while massaging the other one. Fuck his cock, was feeling even harder. He wanted to buck back and forth, but Luvin had grabbed his hip, holding him in place. Dan was in the palm of her hand with no way of escaping.

Suddenly Dan felt a pressure against his ass, as he looked back as best he could.

“Annabelle!” he called out, realizing that she was pushing her middle finger against his ass.

Her smirk grew wider.

“That’s Officer Allnight to you, naughty boy.” She giggled as she pushed her finger against him. Dan groaned, feeling her finger penetrate him. She moved it back and forth while getting in closer to lick his shaft. Dan grunted harder as he felt his anus being fingered. The teasing way she twirled it and moved around as she sucked on the side of his cock felt like torture.

“Oh, relax, naughty boy. It’s like a prostate exam. I’m just gonna get the feel of your insides.” She winked and began slipping in a second finger.

“Oh, Goddess!” Dan groaned. It hurt like hell, but somehow he liked the feeling. Luvin was arching her finger, really poking against his prostate.

“Yeah, I bet you like that, huh? Don’t you, you naughty boy?” She chuckled, giving his ass cheek a slight kiss and biting it. Dan groaned and pressed his face against the pillow while feeling her biting down on him.

“Garrh,” Dan muttered as she sucked harder. Dan felt his balls and cock aching more, as she was pushing and rubbing his prostate.

That was when he heard her say,

“Now, you’re gonna be such a good boy, and let the good officer do what she needs, and if you do as I ask, I’ll even let that dirty horny cock off with only a warning.” She chuckled more.

Dan suddenly felt himself handcuffed to the headboard his face to the wall as he felt her slapping his ass once more.

“Wait, what are you? Hello!” Suddenly Dan let out a loud scream as he felt something bigger than fingers penetrating his ass. He felt it, long and hard, slide down into him and then begin pulling back. He turned around and saw Officer Allnight wearing what looked to be a long purple strap-on. Her hands were on his hips as she began to thrust, her hips moving back and forth as she let a sadistic smile run across her face and moaned.

“Oh, yes! Who’s the bitch now? Fuck,” She moaned, her hips slammed against his as she began taking him. He groaned hard as he felt his anus spread. His ass tried pushing her out, but it was no use as she kept pounding into him.

Officer Allnight chuckled as she slapped his hips, leaning down as she began humping his ass, her clit rubbing gently as she groaned hard. Her breasts rested on his back as she moved her right arm around, grabbing his cock and squeezing it gently before moving it back and forth.

“Hmm, so, fucking hard. That’s right, take my big fat cock, baby. And as a reward, I’ll let you return the favor,” she growled, pounding harder as she bit her lip.

“Jesus! Fuck, this hurt, but it feels amazing!” He grunted, his eyes closing tightly as he pushed back. Her hand was soft as her thumb started rubbing the head of his dick. Officer Allnight pushed faster as she moved faster. She was beginning to feel good. The bed under them was creaking louder while Dan was fighting off the upcoming orgasm.

“Fuck, Annabelle! I’m; I’m gonna.” He groaned harder, sweat running down his brow as he grasped the headboard that he was handcuffed to.

“Gahh, you like that! I bet you wanna?

It had been over a month later, as Annabelle was cleaning up. The fact was It was quite calming. Nothing had happened especially for a goddess. It seemed as though there would hardly be any deaths. Annabelle hadn’t even needed to deal with them, except for a few in the early hours.

So Annabelle was cleaning some things up. Particularly the tools, Gizzy had left behind a monkey wrench and a few sockets as she placed them in the draw. Rolling her eyes.

"Gizzy I swear if you weren’t so adorable I’d yell at you.” She muttered while moving on. Dan had gone off to work, and here she was cleaning up. Though in a way she was happy. Ruffling her feathers. It was days like this she felt mortal. Not sitting around doing nothing as worshipers did all the work. Oh how she was young, She couldn’t help remembering how she would take a few souls of men that she liked and had them serve her.

In a way she was thankful it was a phase, Those souls were quite boring. Doing this, just cleaning cooking, is just enjoyable. It was different. Hell ever since she married Dan her life had felt more fulfilling.

Yet, something was wrong. She didn’t know what it was– but something just didn’t seem right. It was a bit in the back of her mind that told her that the world wasn’t right. In some ways, she wished she was a goddess of knowledge or secrets. Maybe she would know why she was getting these feelings. But for now, she would have to go with the flow.

She sighed as she remembered the conversation with the other goddess over a month ago

“So, it seems that someone is messing with the natural order. Someone has been stopping people from dying.” Annabelle said while looking towards the other goddess.

“How? I mean isn’t their ways to stop things like that from happening?” Aphrodite said while leaning on the couch, her fingers moving around in hearts.

“I honestly don’t know, but I’m getting weaker, so they’re aiming for me specifically, the souls I’m supposed to collect. But it’s slow, maybe one or two souls, So I can’t find them.”

“Do you think it could be another god? I mean someone who might be challenging you?” Kali said as she watched the younger goddess.

“Not likely if they wanted to challenge me they would’ve come to me personally. Most wouldn’t dare to mess with the natural order, we know what happened with Loki when he overstepped his bounds.” Annabelle shook her head. Not even sure what could’ve been happening.

“Though it could be, But Loki’s not the only Chaos gods, hell it could even be Titans, Aphrodite has you’re Pantheon been having trouble with them?”

“Not lately, plus With the gods in the underworld they would’ve warned us. But still, With them we never understand. But I don’t think it’s them they haven’t stirred for the last ten thousand years. ” Aphrodite sighed while pulling a bag of tea out, and began taking a long drink.

“So nothing. But it’s not right– Do you think it’s him?” The Japanese goddess wondered.

“No– it’s just weird. Thanks for coming over, maybe it’s not what I was hoping to hear. But I’m sure something will pop up. Keep an eye out.” She leaned over while wondering.

“If I knew who it was I would destroy them.” Kali said a ball of flames appearing in her hand.“ It was then Bast snickered.

Though at the end of it Annabelle didn’t get an answer. Though by this point she was feeling much better. Sure she had to spend a few nights stripping, feeling the eyes of other men watching her drooling over her with lustful want. Other times she had to have her husband fuck her like no tomorrow. But she managed to gain her ability. Her body shudders more as she finished sweeping up. There she sat back getting nice and comfortable.

"I should get started on dinner, I might try and make ribs. Does Dan like ribs?” She wondered and was excited as she was about to run into the kitchen and begin cooking something right up. Suddenly there was a knocking on the door. Annabelle slouched her shoulder and headed off towards the door. With a slight wave of her palm, the door began turning transfusive. For a second she saw Dan standing there. Taking a step around waiting for her to answer the door.

Annabelle couldn’t help but feel her heart skip a beat. The way she saw him, in many ways he was just a simple mortal. But in others he was perfect. A goofy weirdo that knew how to make her feel better. Feel almost human, though something was off he should’ve been at work. Yet it was clear he had at least another four hours till he would be getting off.

The goddess reached over and opened the door.

“Dan you’re home early?” she watched him for a second. Her eyes gently glowing as she was making sure he wasn’t a demon in disguise as a shifter.

“Yeah, well they let me off work. You know how it is sometimes they let us off if we don’t have enough work. So, I figured I’d surprise you. Heck, I got you something.” He reached over pulling out a small black box. He opened it. A small necklace with a gold chain, with a small diamond charm on the bottom. It was more stunning. As she reached over covering her mouth in surprise.

“Dan, you didn’t.”

“I could now come on let’s get inside. The night is young.” He gave a slight smirk as he reached over slapping Annabelle right on the ass. It caused her to bounce into the air as she nodded, Giving a light giggle before they would eventually begin heading off inside.

Annabelle couldn’t help squealing in delight. as she felt him pick her up over his shoulder, heading straight towards the bedroom, for what might have been a fun night.

Dan sighed as he began climbing up the stairs, It had been an extremely long day, and was running late. Since it was around two in the morning. Feeling exhausted as he was having a bad day. Some dick head had hit and ran his car, and cause the cameras weren’t working at his work, No There was no evidence so he would have to call the insurance company tomorrow. A report was filled out, though who knows If they would find the bastard. The charger was going to need to repair the passenger side’s rear.

This only added to the annoyance. Then add to the fact he had been running around his part of the factory. Going from inspecting, and even helping on the mainline, cause people decided not to show up. Sure, most people could consider it nothing more, but for him, it was just aggravating. Though Dan was just ready to get home, maybe get into bed and curl up with Annabelle. Maybe tomorrow would be a better day. A light groan, as he walked right inside.

Gizzy laid there snoozing on the couch with a controller in her hand as she had a blanket covering a part of her body. Dan listened to how she snored. And gave a light kick on the blanket. It was rather funny, as Dan moved over and pushed the blanket over her, even covering her breast. She grunted,

“Burn baby burn, he he he!” Gizzy mumbled in her sleep. Dan flat out wasn’t sure what she meant by that and probably didn’t want to know. He sighed and began heading over towards the bedroom. He noticed a bit Bast wasn’t around. Normally she’d sneak up and try to bug him or make a snarky remark. But for the most part. Dan imagined that she might’ve just gone to bed or was having a night in the town. Cat’s are weird, so why wouldn’t a Cat goddess, be just as weird.

“Well as long as she isn’t causing trouble or puking in my shoes.” He sighed and started heading towards the bedroom. He groaned and called out,

“Annabelle I’m home!” He reached over and opened the door. He turned the light on and what he saw shocked him. His heart had practically stopped right there. His eyes turning into a dinner plate, as he almost heard the sounds of something snapping. Annabelle was laying there naked in bed, her arms around someone. Her body holding them closer, as she had a smile. Sure she was asleep. But the person her arms were wrapped around was another man.

Dan didn’t know who he was, as he felt his hand tightening up into a fist, a part of him snapping, as he popped his neck. Anger rising over him, as he wanted to grab the fucker, grab him, and throw him in the wall.

Who the fuck is he!? Why is he in my bed! Dan felt his mind racing as he tried to find the right words something, anything. But when he opened his mouth the only things that came out of that hole he called a mouth were simply.

“What the flying fuck is this!” His voice was a lot higher than it was supposed to be. Though suddenly Annabelle woke up practically jumping out as she looked over towards Dan with a smile, as she was still half asleep.

“Hey honey, ready for another round already?” Though Dan wasn’t paying attention to her.

“Dan what are you doing over there?” Though Dan growled in annoyance as he thought he heard something else. His blood boiling more, though pushing the anger as much as he could as he watched the stranger on the other side of the room.

“What am I doing here Who the hell is that!” He pointed over as Annabelle turned her head. She didn’t recognize the person either. It was a strange man laying there his head on the pillow. Long dirty blonde hair. Slightly tan skin. Heck, he had a few various Tattoos on his back. Though The goddess didn’t recognize her. Her mind went blank as she was realizing what was going on. She turned to overlook towards Dan as she called out.

“Dan this isn’t what it looks like! I Can Explain!” She reached over pulling herself out of bed. Revealing she was completely naked under the bed,

“I’m sure you can explain I’m sure, But what the fuck! Was everything a lie?”

“Dan none of this is a lie. I love you I swear I never would’ve slept with anyone without you!” Annabelle yelled out, but she saw the anger in his eyes– No there was more to it than anger, sadness- Broken.

“Really none of its, a lie. You’re the goddess of Lust and Death, you can do so much I mean, did I even break up with Vanessa, Did you mess with it!” He grunted hard as he watched Annabelle remembering what Liesmith had told him. It was there Annabelle looked hurt, as she looked away. Tears in her eyes.

“I did, I screwed with your previous relationship… a bit on purpose, but I’m so sorry I never told you. I didn’t want to hurt you but Dan I swear I Love you, I wanted to be with you. So, I just made a small suggestion to her. It was wrong but… I wanted you so much.” She sniffed hard as she was getting ready to cry, her face turning red. As she tried pushing the tears away.

Dan’s face was turning even redder, It was as if something else snapped. As he was feeling his blood boiled more. He wanted to scream yell at The very Goddess he called his wife. He felt betrayed felt as though nothing mattered. He was trying to ignore that curious part that forced him to ask the question. Dan wanted to ask more questions but he just turned around and walked out of his bedroom.

Annabelle watched him walk out of the room as she ran to the door, screaming out.

“Dan please don’t go we can talk this over! I’m sorry!” She felt herself crying more– Though soon it turned to rage. Not for Dan but for whoever dared lay in her bed. It was clear they weren’t human, She knew that whoever she slept with was Dan, or at least looked like him. But it was clear now that was a Lie. As she began to engulf herself in flames. Those flames would be blown out by a chilling wind as Annabelle stood there, her black suit on a scythe in the other. As she looked towards her bed,

“Who are you!” she growled in anger ready to strike him down, The natural order be damned if it meant that she could take the soul of the bastard who dared, trick her in bed, and mess with the love of her eternity. She would deal with the trouble later on. Though when she looked for the stranger. The bed was empty and whoever it was, had vanished without a trace. Annabelle screamed in anger as she swung the weapon hitting a dresser draw. The Dresser was cut in half. Before it dissolved into ash.

Dan began driving off, Driving far faster than he should have. But at that moment he needed to let off a lot of steam. Passing random Cars, Dan grunted his head starting hurting though took a deep breath trying to get relaxed

“So, she broke your heart huh.” A male’s voice said causing Dan to swerve to the side, as he felt his heart racing faster.

“What the fuck!”

“Oh don’t be surprised it’s me Liesmith, Now Was I right she broke your heart.” The god said while putting his feet on the dashboard. Not even wearing a seat belt.

“Should you put your seat belt on?” Dan asked gritting his teeth, as he was feeling annoyed. Though Liesmith shook his head,

“Don’t matter I’m a god, as long as I’m here you won’t get hurt or in a wreck.” Liesmith’s smirk widened while snapping his finger and a small drinking glass appeared an umbrella sticking out as he took a drink.

“Hmm Martini, stirred not shaken.” Lindesmith joked while taking a drink.

“So, what do you want? Still trying to fuck with my life.”

“Hey, I didn’t do anything, though about this. There’s a bar over there. I’ll do you a nice favor. Go in there and I’m sure that you’ll feel better, especially after some Jack Daniels.”

“What the hell do you…” Before Dan could finish his sentence Joe Liesmith was gone. Dan only sighed as he decided to head right into the bar. Maybe he did need a drink.

Dan would make a turn towards the bar. A Neon sign that read. Bag of Bones. The light giving a soft glow even flickering. Dan gave a huff as he parked and began going inside.

Annabelle wasn’t sure what she was going to do. As she walked back and forth in the living room.

“What am I going to do? Should I go out there, and find Dan to explain what’s going on… Fuck– Maybe I should call the other gods. What the hell is going on!” Annabelle was freaking out since she wasn’t sure what was even going to happen. She didn’t want to lose Dan. But she was worried she might push him away. It was then she saw Bast strutting on in and bouncing on the couch. She sat there tail swishing before she started transforming into a more humanoid being. As she stretched out.

“What a wonderful night… Annabelle is there something wrong?”

“Yes, something happened, I slept with someone I thought was Dan, and he wasn’t Dan came in and he thinks I cheated on him.”

“Oh boy… That sucks, Though hey give him time, he’ll come back and you guys can talk about it.”

“Maybe, but I worry. Somethings happening. I wasn’t able to tell who it was I slept with. It narrows it down. We’re dealing with a god. But why, what would they get from hurting my marriage to a mortal?” Annabelle sighed as she sat down looking down at her hands simply wondering who it might have been. A part of her wishes she was holding Dan, She was feeling emotional.

“Hey, it’ll be ok,” Bast said her eyes looking wider almost adorable as she turned into a kitten and cuddled up into Annabelle. Annabelle simply responded by petting behind Bast’s ear as she sat there for the time waiting, and hoping that Dan might come back. GIzzy was still asleep on the other side of the couch snoring away. Just not a care in the world.

The bar was quiet, soft music playing. Though whatever they were playing Dan didn’t care– he wouldn’t say anything, as he felt numb. He took a seat at the barstool and ordered a drink. The bartender nodded dropping down a shot of whiskey.

“Yep gonna need one of these maybe more.” Dan, grabbed the shot glass, taking a small drink. While trying to get far more comfortable than he needed to be.

“Dan is that you,” a voice came in. The voice was soft barely registrable from the music. But Dan still turned around to see who it was when he saw her. It was Vanessa. She looked disheveled, hair wild. Not compared to the neat and nice look that she had when they broke up. Dan sighed looking down at his drink for a moment, as he muttered,

“What are you doing here Vanessa, I figured that you’d be off at a fancy wine party or trying to move up in life from little old me.”

“Dan I’m sorry, I never wanted to hurt you, something came over me. I swear.” She moved in sitting by him Though Dan scooted over.

“The fact is you did. The thing is it still hurts, I know it’s been months but seeing you, opens the wounds.”

“It was a mistake, seriously, I don’t think I’ll ever do it again. Here let me order you another drink.” Vanessa raised her hand and bringing another drink for both of them, the bartender nodded while pouring them a drink. Leaving bigger glasses for each of them imagining that they would be having a long conversation. Hell, the Bartender left the bottle.

Vanessa and Dan drank throughout the night pouring drink after drink. Not talking. It was clear they were drinking their problems away with a long sigh, Dan drinking a little more than Vanessa had. Though the young man didn’t care, the numbing feeling buzzed over him.

Dan groaned hard as he looked towards Vanessa, as he looked towards her she was nice looking, even though she looked as if she was going through the wringer. Maybe the drink helped her looking even better. Hell Dan was even feeling himself open up as he moved in closer.

“You are so Perdy.” Dan muttered his speech slurred, Though a part of him. That slim part of his conscious that cared for Annabelle pushed on. He wanted to push it away, but it kept on persisting like a fly buzzing in your ear.

“Thank you, I’m glad you think I’m Pretty.” Vanessa giggled, though it was a nervous one. While she moved in closer, giving a light smile.

“Um, I’m wondering, do you wanna come back to my place?” Vanessa gave a smile, though there was desperation in her eye, Even Dan as drunk as he was could see it. He didn’t like it, even Annabelle was coming back to his mind, how she smiled and giggled. It felt genuine. Then what was that she said before why are you over there, or did she say? Why are you here?

Dan grunted some as he began thinking about Annabelle how she made him feel alive. How he felt like a better person. Though he looked at Vanessa and felt nothing. No desire no need, Just the idea of Annabelle.

I wanna be with Annabelle. He thought as he muttered,

“Nah, I don wanna, I wanna go home to me WIffe.” He slurred out more drunkenly. Though Vanessa looked more offended.

“I mean we could go back, I could even su-”

“Ma'am he said no, We don’t need any trouble here.” The Bartender pointed to the sign,

No, means no– No excuses for anyone.

“Yesh– Now leave, I wanna drink more! Drink till I can go home and see, me wife!” Dan muttered giggling like a goober, as he suddenly began spinning on the chair, Vanessa looked nervous as she was being watched by the bartender. She knew she needed to leave with him. Maybe get him home– Then do what? She couldn’t just sleep with him while he was this drunk. It would be wrong. She would be raping him. It felt as though 20 lbs of lead was falling on her stomach.

“I think you should go home,” Vanessa muttered, damn Liesmith, Damn that God who was more like a monster. She wouldn’t stoop so low. While Dan who giggled more and nodded,

“Ahh right, Ya’ll go and do thats!” He giggled as he was about to jump out of his seat. But when he did he began wobbling as if he was walking around like a newly born horse.

“Sir I don’t think you’ll be well enough to drive, I’ll call you a cab.” The bartender said as he cleaning the counter up.

“Okay doky, artachocky. Ha hah ha!” Dan snickered as he took a seat down. Vanessa giggled some. Dan was a goofy drunk. Almost childish, Though clearly a goofball. She was tempted to get him in bed and tuck him up.

“I know where he is, let me get you the address,” Vanessa said, with a long sigh before she moved back over. The bartender watched her suspiciously though nodded, handing her a piece of paper and pen.

Vanessa would write down his address. In a way, she was tempted to write down her own. But she knew that wouldn’t be right. Her heart ached as she felt like shit– She even had a feeling that the bastard was gonna hurt her for failing. But in a way, this was a good fuck you, to Liesmith. Then the fact it wouldn’t be a burden on her soul.

“Yeah, he better get home, he’s got a wife to see. I think I need to just go, maybe see the world. Maybe do something else.” She muttered under her breath– In a way she was jealous of this Wife of his, she hoped that they were happy together– In a way she hoped Liesmith failed. The fucker was a monster. She only hoped that she would get as far away as she could. Maybe she could visit her sister and her husband.

Dan would eventually get home, the driver taking him up towards the Address given, while they would carry him up the apartment. Still, the last bit of kindness most people would give as they knocked on the door. Before leaving. The Bartender had agreed not to have Dan’s car towed and put it off in the back so it could be picked up the next day. Though for now, it wasn’t on anyone’s mind.

Dan stood there giggling and laughing more, a Red face over him as he knocked on the door more. As before long, it would be opened by none other than Gizzy.

“Danny boy, what are you doing here? We thought you ran off?” The Gremlin said rubbing her eyes as she yawned.

“Gahh Gizmo you, Gremlin you’s so perdy, and adorable.” Dan muttered as without warning he picked the gremlin up and began giving it a great big o;’ bear hug.

“Who are you! What have you done with Goddess Husband!” She screamed practically trying to escape the bear hug, But Dan was holding her down as they walked over. Annabelle laid on the bed still asleep with Bast curled up with her as a Kitten still Sleeping while Dan walked off into the bedroom eventually falling asleep with the Gremlin in his arms like a teddy bear.

Dan grunted. His head hurt. He wasn’t sure what happened or even where he was. He felt as though his head was close to splitting in half. Truly it was a sign that he needed to quit drinking. It never seemed to end well, and it normally ended up in an odd situation. He opened his eyes up and began looking around. The room was much darker, the shades closed, unlike the last time he got drunk. No, this time it was a little better. He looked down and realized that there were teeth marks on his arm, clotted with blood. Dan sat up a little further and soon saw the gremlin lying there snoring away.

“What happened last night?” he muttered. “Fuck, my head – or my arm. Fuck, it still hurts.” He dragged his aching body to the bathroom and grabbed some Advil, pouring a few extra out of the bottle. He also grabbed some peroxide, pouring it on the wound. It stung slightly, though that only lasted a few seconds.

That was when it suddenly hit him – everything that happened last night. His argument with Annabelle, him leaving, him coming back home drunk off his ass. He wasn’t sure how he got home, but he remembered he was at a bar, one not too far from here. He thought he could walk over there or even get an Uber. He shuddered and decided he would get to it at some point during his weekend off. For now, he needed to see someone – he needed to apologize to someone. That’s what mattered.

He walked into the living room where Annabelle was sitting watching a movie. She was watching… well, it didn’t matter what she was watching. Dan just stood there for a second looking exhausted, his head pounding, before he finally found the words he was looking for.

“Annabelle – I – I wanna say –” But before he could finish his sentence, his voice stammering, he felt the goddess slamming into him as she hugged him as tight as she possibly could.

“I’m sorry I got mad at you, Annabelle,” Dan said with a sigh of relief.

“It’s fine. I’m not mad at you.” Annabelle said, her voice sounding as if she were rather depressed as she looked away,

“No – I have to ask, what happened? Who was he?” Dan muttered, rubbing her cheek, wanting to know the truth.

Annabelle sighed as she muttered,

“I don’t know, Dan. I honestly don’t know who that was. But he looked like you. I should’ve known he wasn’t you, but I was excited and wasn’t thinking. He took advantage of me. When you left, I was so close to killing him or beating him to within an inch of his life. But he was gone. I never meant to cheat on you or hurt you.”

Annabelle’s tears rolled down her cheeks. Dan only responded by rubbing them off tenderly, a slight smile on his face.

“It’s all right. It’s not your fault. You’re a victim. I swear, I wish we knew who he was. I’d kick his ass to next Sunday.” Annabelle giggled at that, finding it cute, and nodded as she grinned.

“Sounds nice. Wanna go out, maybe get some breakfast?” She nudged her head slightly, indicating Bast yawning and stretching on the couch with a grunt.

Dan answered, “Sure, though we still have a lot to talk about. Just, please, I want you to promise me you’ll tell the truth. I won’t be angry.” He looked towards her trying to look as sincere as possible. Annabelle watched him, and he noticed her eyes flashing a light gold before she nodded.

“I can do that. I’ve never lied to you, and I won’t start now. That’s what partners are for.” She smiled, her voice calming as she gave off the same relaxed tone. It reminded him of an old friend who he could walk with side by side, truly a person to whom he could be comfortable laying out all his problems. In many ways, she was perfect – perfect for him, that is.

“All right, well, I need to pick up my car from the bar where I left it first.” He turned over to look at the cat goddess.

“Bast, make sure Gizzy doesn’t burn down the house,” he ordered.

“Whatever,” was the response, “though bring me a fish when you get back. Otherwise, I might join her.” Bast jumped down from the couch and started walking off, tail flicking as if she were annoyed and grouchy at Dan. He shrugged, figuring he would never understand her.

He and Annabelle walked the few blocks to the bar where his car had been left, and then they drove to the nearest Waffle House. They both ordered bacon and eggs with a side of waffles, of course. Dan noticed the jukebox standing in the corner on the other side of the place was playing “Don’t Rock the Jukebox.”

Ironic, especially with Alan Jackson singing, “I don’t feel like rocking since my baby’s gone.” Dan shuddered as he listened to the lyrics– he was sure his heart wouldn’t be ready for the Rolling Stones, either.

Annabelle finally said, “Okay, Dan, you said we still have a lot to talk about. I can tell – what do you want to ask me?” She adjusted her glasses, then started idly playing with her wedding band, As If she was tempted to take it off.

“Did you mess with my relationship with Vanessa, and if you did, why?” He leaned into the table looking at her with those sweet eyes. Annabelle shuddered, hardly able to even look him in the eyes, as she took in a deep breath – like she was trying to find the courage to answer this.

Dan suspected she was worried he’d lose his shit again and walk out on her. No, not this time. He wasn’t planning on doing something so cowardly. This time he was going to stay to the bitter end.

“You said you wouldn’t get angry at me. I expect you to keep your promise,” Annabelle said with a sigh. Dan nodded. He planned on keeping that promise, no matter what he heard. He owed her that much.

“I did mess with your relationship,” she admitted and took another deep breath. “I remember the first time I ever saw you – It was five years ago. You were in a fire. I’m sure you remember that, right?”

“Yeah, of course. It was horrible. Honestly, I was lucky to have survived that. Though I never really like talking about it. Kind of a terrible time.” He shuddered as he remembered feeling the heat against his body.

“The thing was, Dan, you weren’t supposed to have survived that. On that day, I was supposed to reap you, take your soul off to the other side. I was about to – you won’t believe how close you were to my embrace on that day. Then something happened.” Annabelle felt a smile spread over her face as she looked down at the cup of coffee in front of her.

“What happened?” Dan simply asked.

“I fell in love,” Annabelle admitted.

“You were so afraid – I know that face. When you mortals are close to death, you have this look that begs me not to reap you. Sometimes you don’t even realize that you have that look. But I’ve seen it so many times, it normally doesn’t affect me. But when I saw you, my heart, well – it skipped a beat. It screamed for you, and I did the only thing I wanted to do – something I’d never done for any mortal in my entire existence in this world… I didn’t reap you. I spared you that night.”

“But didn’t you say that sparing anyone was meant to die was a dangerous thing? it broke the laws of nature or something?” Dan muttered, not sure how to feel about all of this.

“It does – I don’t know why, but you’re different. I’ve heard it’s like once a generation that a person who is spared from death when they were supposed to die won’t cause problems, but not even we know who they are, so we never risk it. But I guess I got lucky with you. Though it has left a mark on your soul.” With that, the waitress appeared with their food. They each ate a few bites.

Dan finally responded, “Well, I guess that isn’t too bad. Though how does it lead to – well, what happened?”

Annabelle giggled. “You know, that’s one of the things I like about you, Danny – always asking questions and wondering about things. Well, to tell you the truth, I was content with letting you live for a long time and take you as my own when you left the mortal world. But I kept watching you, and after five years, I couldn’t take it anymore. But by then, you were with someone.”

“Vanessa…” Dan muttered under his breath.

“Yes, Vanessa. I admitted I was jealous when I discovered you were with her. I wanted to get rid of her. I was even tempted to reap her. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. So I did something just as bad. But I regret it now. She was scheduled to feel lustful that night. Have a few drinks and sleep with you, practically throw herself on you. But when I realized it was about to happen, I made a suggestion pointing her towards someone else. No idea who it was, but I just threw her towards him.”

“So it was your fault we broke up after she cheated on me.” Dan let a tinge of anger creep into his voice, but he pushed the feeling away.

Annabelle nodded and said, “Yes, It was wrong, and I shouldn’t have done that… I understand if you want to leave me. I don’t deserve your forgiveness… if you want, I can leave you, and you’ll never see me again.” Annabelle felt herself about to cry, but she knew she deserved it. She had royally fucked up. She felt selfish. She was about to get up from the table and walk off when Dan reached over, grabbing her by the arm.

“I don’t want you to go,” he said. “I mean, I’m mad that you did that, but the fact is, it’s over and done with, so we might as well move on from what has happened.”

“So you’re forgiving me for this.”

“Not fully. I think we’ll have to earn each other’s trust again, but I think we should start over. My name’s Dan. Dan Fremont.” He raised his hand as if to greet her, a small smile on his face.

Annabelle watched him for a second and then nodded.

“I’m Annabelle Fremont. I’m your wife.” She giggled as she shook his hand. They got up, and in the middle of that Waffle House, the two pulled each other into a hug and shared a kiss. Neither of them cared who was watching them as they embraced each other for what seemed like the longest time, not a care in the world.

“How about we go somewhere more private, honey?” Dan whispered as he reached over giving her buttocks a slight squeeze. Annabelle giggled in response as she eagerly nodded. Dan quickly paid, leaving a twenty on the table, just enough for the food and a tip before they ran off. Wherever they were running, it didn’t matter – the two had each other, and that was all that mattered.

To be continued.

By DustinMidnight for Literotica.

[dorothy-webring-resorce]

[ Let's face it--you were never a clothes horse, and you actually believed it when the other kids on the playground said, "You're ugly and your mother dresses you funny!", especially when you may have been forcibly subjected to wearing knee-highs and frilly dresses.  Well if you're here, then you've obviously broken away long ago from that nightmare, but the question is, what do you do now?  In this section, no matter what stage you're in, I'll give you some tips on how to dress like a manly man--strike that, a respectable man.  No, strike that too--a well-dressed man who need not spend what he should be saving for surgery on a pair of elevator shoes.

Okay,  you've bound yourself (or have already had the fortune of having had surgery), you've shaved and slapped on the aftershave & cologne, and you've had your T shot (or even if you haven't, again, this is for guys in all stages).  What next?  Shopping!  Ahh, the smell of commerce and sweatshop-made garments in the morning.  Hold on a sec, guy--you say you have a budget the size of the change in MC Hammer's wallet?  Not a problem.  I can take you to several places where you can get the goods.  But first, we've got to decide exactly what you want and need.  Let's start from the bottom up (Dale's favorite way to go).

Shoes (plus socks and underwear):  If you're a tall transman, your biggest worry is getting shoes that fit your growing feet (your feet have a tendency to grow once you're on testosterone, and it's not unlikely that you could go up a half size.  Captain Johnathan did.).  For some short guys, transmen and biomen alike, their vertically challenged bodies are a source of frustration and low self-esteem, and they'll do anything short of a Bobby Brady stunt to appear taller (The Artist Formally Known as Net Unfriendly wears huge heels to add to his 5' 4" stature).  The way I look at it, you can either do one of two things:  get over the dang hangup because you've got bigger (no pun intended) things to worry about, or do something and find a way to soothe yourself by actively modifying your height through your shoes.  Either way is work, but for this page's sake, let's try the latter.  Onward and upward...

Pants, Jeans, Dress Slacks:  Again, if you're tall, no real worry.  If you're short, though, you may have trouble finding pants with an inseam that fits (ones that you don't have to cuff or hem up).  What's an inseam, you say?  Well, unlike women's pants and stuff (measured in a ridiculous system of "Size 5" to "Size 13" and so on), men's pants are measured by your waist size--the first number--and your inseam length (the inches from the bottom of the crotch to about the ankle or so).  A very common measurement is 36W/34L.  Short men, however, measure anywhere from a 34L to 26 or 28L.  This can be a plus in some ways and a boon in others:  sometimes the sizes that are produced by some companies (like Levis) are so unpopular that they get shipped to discount department stores (a plus), but other times the sizes are of such little value to the clothing manufacturers that they don't even bother making them (a boon, sort of a slight [sic] against the shorter man).  Well, enough of this, let's get to it...

Shirts, Jackets, Coats:  Well, picking up the size lingo here is also a lot like learning how to read pants tags, as men's dress shirts aren't as simple as S-M-L-XL anymore.  Men's dress shirt sizes, namely the ones embroidered on that little tag just under the brand name go by the size of a guy's neck.  Yep, you heard me.  A 15 1/2 will fit a guy whose neck measurement is 15 1/2" around.  Simple, eh?  Of course, be wary of the "LONG" tag (which means if you're a regular guy who buys a 15 1/2 LONG, you'll end up with sleeves dragging along the floor) or anything that says "One Size Fits All" (as many heftier guys will attest that one size does not fit all).  Keep your shirt on...

Ties, Accessories:  What male wardrobe would be complete without at least one tie (save for Charles Manson's...or Marilyn Manson, for that matter).  Even Dale has a crap-load of ties.  The matter is picking the right tie to buy or wear, and not something that looks like you could use as a potholder (basically, a throwback to the wild bright psychedelic WIDE ties of the 60's...unless you're striving for the look).  Of course, you don't really want to go 80's either, with the thin "Is that a tie or a belt you're wearing around your neck?" look.  Okay, tie me up.

Now that you've explored those links, I hope you can keep in mind and put to use what I've suggested here, but this is by no means a definitive rule-book on what you should do.  Heck, if you have the cash to go spend at Macy's or Saks Fifth Avenue, go forth and spend...just make sure to remember that Dick sent you, and wouldn't mind seeing some of that trickle-down economy at work...]

[therogueheart]

Billy Hargrove's wearing his jacket.

The denim one, the oversized one Steve bought because he thought the three-sizes-too-big look was A Look, the one that fits near perfectly around Billy's broad shoulders and toned arms, just a little long at the sleeve cuffs.

His shirt's open, his tits are out, he's in Steve's fucking jacket in the middle of school.

The bastard won't even kiss him but he'll steal his clothes. He'll let Steve burn for him. He'll watch Steve with dark eyes and an under-the-lashes smoulder as girls fondle him up and whisper in his ear and—

And Steve's about four fucking seconds from launching at him like some kind of rabid animal.

Its been this way ever since Billy saved their asses. He's bigger and badder, somehow, but also... Different. Like he's teething for a fuck not a fight more than anything. Vixen in shoddy leather and eyeliner, all yoga girl curls and lips Steve wants to bite.

The energy and dynamic between them is different, too. Before Billy was feral, always at his throat, thought of Steve like shit on his shoe he couldn't scrape off. Now Billy's like a cat in heat, always purring, aloof but sultry and one second away from going cunt up if only Steve could just get his hands on Billy for longer than four fucking seconds.

It started once Billy was on his feet again. He'd prowled into the school, leather jacket and shades, headed straight past Steve and he'd braced himself for the typical shoulder barge, but when Billy brushed past him it was just that.

A slide of their bodies, a gentle nudge as if to say I'm here, and then Billy was gone. In basketball Billy went from attacking to being the one in front, steady, pliant as Steve shadowed him. Kitten-minx glances over his shoulder, plush mouth curved into a smirk as Steve folded over his back, used the inch and a half he had on Billy to his advantage.

The touching grew bolder. Billy would slouch in his seat in class, legs spreading, knee pressing into Steve's thigh as he doodled in his books, because Billy Hargrove was a straight A student who somehow never wrote an actual fucking word in class ever.

At the lockers when Steve was talking to Tommy Billy would lean back or sideways against him, as if Steve was just another inanimate blue locker, never once looking at him but always a burning hot weight against him, the coconut scent of his shampoo lodged in his lungs.

Billy would suck on pencils while staring straight at him. Billy would arch his back and run his hands down his hips in the showers with Steve less than three feet away. Billy would prowl through the halls, hips swaying, coming to heel at Steve's looks or motions like a leashed pet.

Eventually; Billy would straddle his thighs behind the old caretaker's shed, would blow smoke into his mouth with less than an inch between their lips or pour shitty vodka down his throat between classes, because around the kids he's still Pack Mom Steve but around Billy he's something else.

They're a wildfire, a temporary flash of all-consuming heat and danger and then they'll snuff out, burnt to ash and char and smoke.

Eventually; Billy would sprawl out in Steve's bed, ocean eyes hazy, syrupy drawl making fun of Steve's posters and music and closet while Steve lay beside him, always always thinking of rolling over, stealing the smoke-sour breath right out of his lungs.

They're.

They're not a couple.

Not nothing, just...

Something.

Because Billy will let Steve crowd him back against the Camaro now; pressed ankle to chest, mouths inches apart, will look up at him sugar-sweet under his lashes, vicious smirk, lazy drawl until Steve's forced to back away because if he doesn't their first time is gonna be Billy bent over the hood in the school fucking lot, and not once does Billy threaten him, or bite at him, or kill him in broad daylight.

Because Billy's wearing a jacket Steve doesn't ever remember giving him the opportunity to take, and its a primal sort of claim that has Steve vibrating on the damn spot, itching to know if it still smells like him, if Billy's walking around with Steve's scent saturating his soft skin.

Tommy's too busy sucking Carol's tongue right out of her throat to notice so Steve gives in to the baser urge, lopes through the hallway to slide an arm around Billy's tiny little waist, fingers curling in the familiar washed-soft fabric. Billy automatically leans back, like he knows exactly which idiot is brave enough to just grab at him like this.

Like there's only one idiot who actually has permission to.

The jacket still smells like him.

"I like your new style," he murmurs, husky-low, the voice that used to bribe Nancy out of her conservative sweaters and button-up skirts. "It suits you."

Billy shifts, slide of Steve's hip against the back of his, then they're side by side and just two dudes in a hallway again, maybe a little too close but hey, nobody's hands are in pants, so.

It drives him insane all day. They don't have classes together but Billy's suddenly everywhere Steve looks, in his jacket, and his thighs ache with the memory of Billy's weight on them, wonders if one day Billy'd let him fuck him in nothing but that faded denim and silver.

He'd make him bounce on it, leave the jacket open so the denim slid over his chest, scraped and sparked where he was sensitive.

And because they're doing this all ass-backwards maybe Billy will even let him hold his hand after.

After school, waiting for the kids, Steve crowds Billy back against the Beemer, boxes him in, traces where the hem of the jacket rides a half-inch above the hem of Billy's jeans with his thumb.

"Somethin' to say, pretty boy?" Billy purrs, low-smoke whiskey and gravel, cants his hips forwards Its indecent. Its risky. Dangerous.

Everything Steve drools over, burns for in his veins like his next fix when it comes to Billy Hargrove.

"When you let me," he rasps, voice wavering, because in the wild the she-wolf chooses to go cunt up for the stud, makes him prove himself first, "when you let me fuck you, wear this? Wear it please?" he begs.

Billy just smiles, saccharine slow. Thick syrup Steve will drown in.

(Later, two weeks later, Steve will buy a jacket in New York when his parents drag him there for a company dinner. Its butter-supple, somewhere between smoke ash and dark chocolate. Costs his whole shopping allowance for the trip but its worth it because Billy steals it the first chance he gets and Billy lets him kiss him for the first time with his hands fisted in the lapels and Billy switches it out for the denim jacket, winks at Steve in the hallway three weeks later and Steve knows.)

[skiller0dani]

Old Prison Blues | Spencer Reid

M A S T E R L I S T Criminal Minds Masterlist

smut | dom!spencer x bau!reader requests info w.c | 7.2k summary | when your husband Spencer gets released from Prison, he's much different then you remember.

I have it so bad for this man, enjoy! Also guys this piece made butterflies squirm in my belly lmao this one is so HOT it made me blush. Guys, it made me B L U S H. I need to go dunk myself in holy water to atone for this SIN. (just kidding lmao I'm agnostic).

you can see his bulge in this gif and I can't stop admiring looking at it.

When you were in college you'd been an undergraduate in Criminal Justice, so you were familiar with the effects Prison has on the psyche. In other words, you knew Spencer would come back different. No person could pass through Prison unscathed and frankly you'd be more concerned if he came back and nothing had changed at all. At home, he seemed to be relatively okay, and those 6 mandatory weeks of break had allowed him the rest he deserved. Nothing exciting had happened during those weeks, the only thing you did was curl up on the couch next to him and watch movies. You'd made up for all those weeks in Prison during the evenings when you would cling to him and cry out his name in ecstasy.

Spencer really did seem to be fine, until you returned to work. That's when you started to see all the ways Prison had hardened him.

At first, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. If you were someone who knew Spencer well then you knew that he wasn't a man who was confident in his looks. When you and Spencer first got married he was insecure, and would be discouraged when you hung out with other guys. You wouldn't say he was jealous because jealously in itself requires a certain amount of anger. But when Spencer saw you around other men he wasn't angry, he was sad. Absolutely convinced you were going to leave him any second, despite you telling him you married him because you love him. Deep down, he always thought somebody would steal you from him even though you consistently reminded him how much you love him. That's just the kind of guy Spencer is.

Or, was.

The darkness that brews in Prison, the violent hatred, the anger seems to have followed Spencer to freedom. It has made a home in his chest, and while you're not worried about Spencer flying off the deep end and shooting an innocent, the anger reveals itself in much more subtle ways. It's in the way he clenches his jaw when he can't figure something out, or the blanching of his knuckles as he grips the steering wheel with a crushing force, it's the agitation in his eyes when he watches Alvez's knuckles brush against your lower back for the 3rd time since you two had arrived at the office this morning. The anger has adapted to civilian life like Spencer has, it's learned. It's subtle. Unfortunately you know Spencer almost better then he knows himself, you can tell when something is bothering him.

You slide your hands over his shoulders, and much to your surprise you feel him tense.

"You okay?" You know it's a stupid question, but you have to ask.

"Yeah, fine." Spencer's tone is clipped, shoulders rigid, back straight. Something is definitely bothering him. You squeeze his shoulders and begin to work at the tightened muscles, slowly easing them to relax. The tension flows out of him as he relaxes back in his desk chair, the frustration ebbing away slightly when his eyes catch your wedding ring. The object that binds you to him.

"Don't shut me out." You whisper, a soft plea in your voice. Spencer's heart wretches when he hears the fear in your tone, and one of his hands comes up to catch yours. He presses a chaste kiss to one of your knuckles before swiveling around to face you. You always find a way to soothe the violent, raging beast inside of him. Spencer's hands find your hips as he turns his gaze up to look at you.

"You're right I'm sorry. Just tense today." He says softly, and while there is a little lie to his words, his statement remains mostly the truth. He just leaves out the part where he pictures enacting varying forms of violence on Luke Alvez. The man who keeps unnecessarily touching his wife. You lean down to press a kiss to his forehead, your head snapping up when Garcia calls from the conference room.

"Got a case folks, and it's an ugly one." Her nose scrunches up into a frown before she turns into the room. You pull away from Spencer, yanking him to his feet by his hand. Luke sends you a playful wink as he trots up the stairs, and while you don't necessarily react to it, it still puts Spencer on edge. Deep down Spencer always knew you were way out of his league, but that never became clearer then when you came to visit him in Prison.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

You were trembling as you lowered yourself into the chair. Dried tears were on your cheeks, and you haven't even seen Spencer yet. The last time you saw him was a few weeks prior after he first got back from Mexico. Seeing his wrists bound in those metal handcuffs had broken your heart in a way you never anticipated. You wrung your hands together, luckily when Penelope had made the visitation Chart she scheduled you as the first person to come see him. The plastic chair was uncomfortable, but what was worse was the plastic guard separating you from Spencer. The clock ticked loudly, it was clearly mocking you. Reminding you of the seconds you were losing with Spencer, reminding you of all the seconds he was spending in Prison.

When you hear the buzzer scream loudly, you nearly come out of your seat you're so excited to see him. You and Spencer got married back in 2005, and you've never been separated from him for longer then a week. It's been over a month now, and each day he's not with you leaves a bigger hole in your chest. You watch him follow the other prisoners out, and the handcuffs around his wrists breaks your heart. His eyes light up the second he sees you, he nearly shoves the other guy over to get to you faster. There are tears in your eyes as Spencer's wrists are released from the cuffs from the guard standing nearby.

"Hey baby." Spencer says softly as he takes his seat across from you. All you want is to reach across the stupid barrier and touch him, hold his hand, anything. But you know the guards will punish him if he does, but being this close to him without being able to hold him is absolutely killing you. You try to blink the tears out of your eyes so that Spencer won't see, but it's all too much. Seeing him in a jumpsuit, with cuff bruises around his wrists, having to sleep in the same building as murderers. The first tear falls and you immediately look away from him.

"Please don't cry." Spencer begs softly. "I'm okay, really."

You wipe your tears before you look back up at him, digging around in your bag for a gift from Henry. You smile when you see the happiness cross onto his face as you pull the piece of paper out.

"Henry drew this for you, it's from when you guys went to the park." You hold it up for him to see and you try to fight another onslaught of tears when you see his eyes misting.

"You know, when I get out of here we should have one." Spencer says it so casually, you almost miss it. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you carefully lower the drawing.

"You want to try for a baby?" You can't hide the smile, and you see Spencer's eyes shine for the first time since he's been in here.

"Yeah, I want to have a baby with you." You and Spencer had a brief conversation about kids a few years ago, and you knew Spencer wasn't ready for it back then. His Father ran out on him and Diana when Spencer was just a kid, it made Spencer insecure about the type of Father he would end up being. In Spencer's mind, a fatherless man would never make a good Father. But it seems he's changed his mind. You had no issues agreeing to wait before you had kids until he was ready, you always knew Spencer would be a fantastic Father.

Suddenly from Spencer's right you hear a low wolf whistle. The tenderness that was on Spencer's face is instantly wiped away. His expression tenses, his jaw clenching as he turns his gaze to a large burly looking man covered in tattoos. The man sitting across from him, the one who was visiting, looked similar. Both of the biker looking men were eyeing me hungrily, it made my skin crawl.

"Something I can help you with?" Spencer asks, his voice tense. The tension in the room grows tenfold, and you fight the instinct to try and scoot closer to Spencer. The Biker looks Spencer in the eyes, a taunting smile on his face.

"That your sister?"

"Wife." Spencer snaps instantly.

"Your wife?" The Biker says incrediously, Spencer raises a brow, daring him to continue. "There's no way a woman with an ass that tight would marry a man as scrawny as you."

You expected to see insecurity flash in Spencer's eyes, instead all you saw was rage. Unbridled, violent rage.

"Choose your next words carefully." Spencer's voice was low, and as sharp as the edge of a blade. You almost didn't recognize him. The Biker leaned forward, fueled only by the knowledge that he was getting under Spencer's skin.

"She as tight as she looks? If I wasn't locked up, I'd fuck her so good she wouldn't even remember what your little pecker feels like."

Spencer's jaw clenches, and his fists curl tightly. The Biker is about 2 words away from a broken nose.

"Baby just let it go." You plead, and normally you don't really use pet names in public but right now you needed to show him that you're his.

"I'll tell you what Klein, I'll fuck her for you and tell you how it felt." The other man says, the man visiting. Upon hearing the words come out of his mouth, Spencer is shoving up from the chair but almost instantly a guard is tightly gripping Spencer's shirt and shoving him back into the chair. Spencer is fuming, and there's nothing you can do to calm him down.

"If you so much as lay a finger on her, your friend here will be dead before you can have another visit." Spencer hisses, and the two large men chuckle.

Spencer instantly took you off the visitors list, and while that felt like a blow to your heart you understood why. You didn't want to stress him out by visiting him.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

So, yeah, Spencer knew you were out of his league and when Luke pulled your chair out for you at the table before he had the chance to, it made his blood boil. Why is Luke trying to take care of you? Doesn't he know that Spencer has been released from Prison? You don't need anybody else to take care of you, your husband is more than capable of doing it himself. When Spencer sat down in the chair next to you, he rested one hand on your thigh. You're only slightly surprised, normally Spencer isn't this 'handsy' in public, but in recent weeks he's been more assertive around other men.

"The body of 23 year old Cassandra Richardson was found 2 weeks ago in Lincoln, Nebraska. Her body was mutilated and showed signs of sexual assault. Yesterday another body, 20 year old Francesca Williams was found around the same warehouse district with similar wounds to the first victim." Penelope rushes the words out, almost as though saying them pains her. Various images show on the screen of the two victims, both bloodied and battered.

"Other than similar injuries, what makes the local police think it's the same unsub?" Luke asks, his eyes flickering towards you for the briefest second. While Spencer was locked away, Luke became a shoulder to cry on. Normally when you were upset and Spencer wasn't around, you'd talk to Derek. But since he's been gone you've felt more isolated then you normally do. Luke had found you crying one morning before you had taken off, and ever since he's had an "older brother" protection over you.

"A tattoo on both of the victims thighs, the words 'temerata virginem' which is Latin for 'desecrated virgin'." With the click of a button on her remote, Penelope pulls up a photo of the tattoos. The lines are shaky, although they stay mostly straight.

"It almost looks professional, except the lines aren't perfectly straight. A professional would make the line work perfect." JJ says, examining the photo closer in the folder each of you received. You turn your gaze to Spencer when you feel his hand leave your thigh to examine the photo closer. You could practically see the gears turning in that beautiful mind of his.

"It's possible an outside source is causing a tremble in the unsubs hands, if he is a professional tattoo artist." Spencer mumbles, almost to himself. Sometimes when he's in deep concentration, he nearly forgets other people are in the room with him.

"Could be drugs-" Luke starts but is sharply cut off.

"Actually it's more likely to be alcohol, withdraw from other drugs would be too severe to operate the tattoo machine." Spencer snaps, causing a few heads to turn and look at him. Maybe under other circumstances someone would say something to him, but since Spencer got released from Prison only a few weeks ago, nobody says anything. Luke's eyebrows furrow together as he shoots Spencer a confused look, one Spencer chooses to ignore as his hand returns to your thigh. Spencer knows he's acting like a jerk but he can't help it, Luke needs to know who you belong to. Spencer had everything taken from him in Prison, he won't let anyone take you from him too.

"We've been personally asked by the local police to assist, so wheels up in 30." Emily concludes, shooting one more look at Spencer before everybody rises.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

The tension on the jet is thick, you're absolutely sure everybody can feel it. Hardly anyone has interacted with Spencer, except to ask him a question about the case. You sit back against the couch, Luke sitting in one of the chairs at the table, and Spencer sitting on the arm of the chair next to you. In your hand was a nearly empty cup of coffee, and just as you move to refill, Luke rises with his own empty cup.

"Need a refill?" He asks, offering you a friendly smile.

"Yeah actually-"

"I got it." Spencer says abruptly, standing from where he was sitting. His eyes meet Luke's, silently challenging him. You try to be understanding, but you can't help but feel annoyed at Spencer. If he was acting like this to some random guy then that's one thing, but this is Luke. He's your friend, he's Spencer's friend. Luke, and the rest of the team, put everything on the line to free Spencer from Prison.

"It's cool man, I can do it-" Luke offers again, but Spencer isn't having it.

"I said I got it." Spencer reaches his hand out for your mug, which you instantly give to him. His eyes don't leave Luke's until he turns around and heads to the back of the jet to refill your coffee. Luke pauses for a few seconds, his eyes meeting yours and mirroring the same look of concern before he heads for the coffee pot as well. Luke isn't even upset by how Spencer is treating him, he- like everyone else, is worried about Spencer's psyche.

"What is going on with Spencer?" JJ whispers once she's sure Spencer is out of earshot. You shrug, your worried eyes landing on your husband. His posture is tense, almost defensive.

"Well can you blame him? In Prison, everything that's yours can and will be stolen by the other male inmates. Now that he's free, Spencer is being protective of his wife, someone that is his and can be taken by other men." Rossi says, always naturally a tad protective of Spencer.

"There isn't a man on this planet that would make me leave Spencer." You say defensively, although you know Rossi didn't mean anything by what he said.

"That might be obvious to you, but not to Spencer." JJ says, eyeing Spencer standing back near the coffee machine.

"Doing okay man?" Luke asks hesitantly as he moves to stand next to Spencer.

"Yep." Spencer says shortly, waiting for the pot to brew. Luke feels the tension rolling off Spencer in waves, and it's all being directed at him and he's not sure why.

"Look, if I've done something to upset you, just talk to me about it Reid." Luke's voice is gentle, understanding. Spencer's jaw clenches again as the pot finishes brewing and he refreshes your cup before reaching for the creamer.

"I'm fine Alvez. Really." Spencer says again, but Luke isn't willing to let this go yet.

"No Reid, you're not-"

"Stop flirting with my wife." Spencer's tone is firm, and the look in his eyes tells Luke just how on edge Spencer is.

"You got it." Luke agrees instantly, even though he was never flirting with you. But he knows that right now arguing with Spencer will only make things worse. Seemingly satisfied with Luke's answer, Spencer carries your cup back you, slinging an arm around you.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

Spencer twists his wedding ring around his ring finger, something he does when he's stressed out or tense. You're currently sat in the interrogation room with the male suspect, a tattoo artist attending AA meetings, the tattoo on the first victim was the shakiest because he had just quit drinking. The other, more recent, victims tattoo's were more steady. The longer he stayed sober, the more his trembling faded. In Spencer's other palm is your wedding ring, you fit the physical preference of this killer perfectly, but he only went after single women. Emily thought sending somebody in fitting his victimology would throw him off enough to say something incriminating. In order for the rouse to work, you needed to appear single- meaning the wedding ring had to come off. The thought didn't settle well in Spencer's gut.

"You have to relax." JJ said suddenly from Spencer's right. He nearly ignored her but his frayed nerves were beginning to eat at him.

"I can't. Do you see the way he's looking at her?" Spencer was pacing back and forth in front of the one way glass like a caged animal, unable to take his eyes off of the train wreck happening in front of him.

"She can handle herself Spence." JJ insists gently, almost using a motherly tone to talk to him.

"She's mine!" And suddenly the crux of the issue comes to light, and Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose, releasing a heavy breath. JJ thinks about her words carefully, trying to find something to say that will calm him at least a little.

"Yeah, and nothing is going to change that Spencer. You need to relax, and you have to trust her. You're not in Prison anymore, nobody is going to take her from you." JJ says, looking him in the eyes. Suddenly the sound of metal screeching across a concrete floor sounds from behind Spencer and when he turns around, his blood boils hot in his veins. The suspect, Alan Baker, has shoved out of his chair and has started towards you.

"Spencer-" JJ's voice is distant, and comes too late. Spencer isn't listening to her anymore when his fist curls around the door handle and he nearly rips it off its hinges.

"You need to step back." Spencer snaps, reaching for his gun as Alan Baker backs you into the corner of the interrogation room. You weren't ever truly afraid, you could have handled Alan. Slowly, Alan backs away from you and Spencer instantly reaches for you. He leads you out of the room with a gentle but firm hand on your back. Once you're out of the interrogation room you turn to Spencer.

"What the hell? I could have dealt with him!" You insist, frustration laced in your tone. At this point JJ silently slips out of the room, giving you and Spencer some much needed privacy. Spencer crosses his arms as he leans back against the one way mirror.

"You didn't need to, I did." Spencer huffs and you seriously resist the urge to throw something at him.

"What is your problem today? You could have compromised my entire interrogation, he's never going to tell me anything now!" You snap, anger pinching at your features.

"Good! Now you have no reason to talk to him again." Spencer snaps back, can't you see that he's just protecting what's his?

"Spencer we're trying to save somebody! You're being selfish!" You say to him angrily, trying your best not to start yelling at him. Spencer's selfish possessiveness over you could have just ruined your entire investigation.

"This is why the Bureau was hesitant to reinstate you. They were scared you wouldn't be able to control yourself." You snap at him, crossing your arms.

"Are you saying they made a mistake?" Spencer asks incrediously, suddenly becoming defensive.

"Maybe they did. Because you're acting like an asshole right now. You've been a jerk to Luke the entire day when he busted his ass to help get you out of Prison and back to me! Since when have you not trusted me during an interrogation? What did you think was going to happen? That I was going to let him touch me? I thought you trusted me." You cry out, tears filling your eyes now. Spencer didn't say anything as you turned for the door, anger still laced in his features.

"This has nothing to do with me not trusting you-"

"If you don't trust me, then maybe you should just hold onto my wedding ring for a while. I don't want it." You snap quietly, and you regret the words the second they leave your lips. No matter how mad he makes you, you'd never leave Spencer. You watch Spencer's expression shift from anger to...hurt. He watches silently as you slam the door behind you. Prison has turned him into somebody he isn't, and Spencer doesn't know how to turn off this part of his brain. The part telling him that you belong to him, and that he needs to protect what's his.

Rossi catches the sight of your tear stained cheeks as you move back towards the kitchen in the precinct. You wipe your tears as he comes to stand beside you, and the look on his face tells you that he overheard your fight with Spencer. Rossi bumps you with his elbow gently, a small smile on his face.

"You don't look okay." He says softly and you let out a self-depreciating laugh.

"I'm not. I don't know how to help Spencer, he doesn't trust me." You say sadly, your heart breaking in your chest.

"It's not you he doesn't trust, it's other men." Rossi clarifies, although it does little to ease the pain. You reach up to brush your hair behind your ear when Rossi catches your hand, examining your ring finger.

"Where's your wedding ring?"

"Told Spencer I didn't want it." The words are laced with heavy regret, and when you remember the look on his face when you said it you almost start to cry again. Rossi wraps an arm around you, and you lean your head on his shoulder.

"Deep down, he knows you didn't mean it." He tries to reassure you.

"That's the problem, he probably thinks I meant it."

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

Normally it only takes you and Spencer a few hours to smooth things over after a fight. But this time, it's been nearly 3 hours and you haven't spoken a word to each other. You're both working on searching through Alan Baker's financial records without speaking at all. Neither of you have said anything, and Spencer still has your wedding ring. You desperately want it back, but you don't know how to start that conversation. You're angry about how he's been treating everybody, and you feel like asking for your ring is accepting defeat. You're not ready to accept defeat. When Emily comes into the room, her eyes settle on the two of you.

"Okay, what's going on with you guys?" Her arms are crossed.

"Nothing." The word comes from both yours and Spencer's mouths at the same time, and you say it far too quickly. Emily raises one brow at the two of you before closing the door behind her.

"Alright I'm going to have to be a boss now. We are not going to lock this guy away if the two of you are fighting. We need everybody on their A-game. Fix it. Now, and I mean right now." She says, leaving the room but closing the door behind her. There's a suffocating silence that fills the room, both you and Spencer too stubborn to speak first. But you can't take it, you hate it when he's mad at you. You hate it when you guys fight, which isn't often but it does happen occasionally.

"I didn't mean it." You whisper, leaning on the table, facing away from him. Spencer doesn't say anything but you know he's listening.

"I didn't mean it Spencer, I want my ring." He'd be lying if he said he wasn't relieved to hear you say that, his entire world crashed down around him the second you told him to keep the ring. The irrational part of his brain told him you were going to divorce him.

"Can I please have it back?" You ask, barely turning your head to look at him. With a huff Spencer pushes away from the table to move in front of you. His eyes are focused on your hand, he has yet to look at you. Spencer fishes around in his pocket before he finds your ring and gently slides it onto your ring finger.

"You have to stop glaring at any man that gets to close to me, especially Luke." You tell him, but he continues to look away from you. Spencer pushes past you to stand near the windows, his back facing you. The thing about Spencer is that he's stubborn, really stubborn. You take a few steps towards him, nibbling on your lower lip.

"I love you Spencer, I'm sorry. I was an ass, but you acted like an ass too." You tell him, but Spencer only turns his head further away from you. You move to stand in front of him, but his eyes turn to the ground and his arms are crossed tightly. Seriously?

"Please talk to me Spencer, tell me what's going on." You can see the frustration laced in his features, there's something on the tip of his tongue that he needs to say.

"Spencer."

"After you left from your visit, do you know why I didn't let you come back?" Spencer snaps, his hands finding your shoulders to yank your body against his. Your chest collides with his and suddenly you feel a dampness building between your legs. You instantly turn to putty in his hands.

"I didn't let you come back because that asshole told everybody about you. Told everybody what a tight little body you have. Soon the entire cell block was fantasizing about my 'sexy wife'. Do you have any idea what it's like to listen to men constantly talk about fucking your wife?" Spencer's voice is tense, but you can see it. The lust building behind his eyes, the frustration, and the fear of losing you simmering underneath it all.

"N-No." Your voice is breathy, and your eyes are lidded as Spencer's hands slide up your arms to your shoulders.

"It's fucking hell Y/N. Every time I see any man look at you I want to rip his eyes out, and I can't turn it off. I've tried, and the way that Alvez looks at you- it drives me fucking crazy." Spencer snaps, the anger building by the second. Your entire body begins to hum with an intense need, and Spencer can see it in your eyes. Spencer releases you then and he turns for the door, at first you're afraid he's going to leave but instead he locks the door. Luckily it's late, so the police station is more deserted then it is during the day. Turning back to you, Spencer reaches for the blinds next and you can't help but follow his every movement with your eyes.

"Get on your knees." Spencer says suddenly, and you freeze in shock. Did he just say...?

"Get. On. Your. Knees." Spencer says again through clenched teeth, leaning back against the table, heat simmering in his eyes. His hands grip the edge of the table and you feel a throb from between your legs. Quickly you scramble onto your knees in front of him, your hands reaching up to undo his belt. Once the belt is unfastened, you're quickly unbuttoning his dress slacks, your eagerness making your hands a bit clumsy. Spencer has never been this dominant during sex, but you have no complaints. He has your knees weak and he hasn't even touched you. You quickly dip your hand into his boxers to pull his hardening cock out. As soon as his cock is freed, your lips are wrapping around the head. Spencer's head tosses back in ecstasy.

"Your lips look so pretty stretched around my cock. Those bastards could only imagine having you on your knees for them." Spencer snaps, his hand weaving into the hair at the back of your head. You moan softly around him at his crude words, slowly sliding down his cock. Spencer groans when he feels your tongue laving the underside of his cock, along the vein that runs from base to tip. Apparently feeling impatient, Spencer pushes your head further down his cock. He feels his tip right at the entrance of your throat, and with one gentle thrust he breaches your throat and his cock slides all the way into your mouth.

"Fuck," Spencer hisses, and Spencer does not curse often. So the fact that you have been able to draw curses from his mouth is nothing short of a miracle. Spencer's chest heaves slightly as you gag lightly around him, drawing another deep groan from his chest. You feel nearly desperate to please him, you need to make him cum. You want him to fucking pound you, you want him to use your body for his pleasure. You want him to release all of his frustration out on you, you want to be sore when he's done.

"You're mine. This is my body to touch and admire, my tight pussy to stretch open, mine." Spencer growls, thrusting gently to meet your hasty movements. You whimper around his cock, gagging slightly again as spit dribbles down your chin. Your eyes are wide and watery as you look up at him, and the sight of you nearly causes him to blow his load. You just look so fucking beautiful on your knees in front of him, drool on your chin and your mouth full of cock. It's a sight he will never forget. You move your head faster, keeping your eyes locked on his. Spencer squeezes the edge of the table, his head tossing back when his orgasm hits him. You feel his cum shooting in spurts to the back of your throat and you swallow every drop. Once you pull off him, Spencer is grabbing your elbows to pull you to stand.

Spencer's hands are reaching for the button of your dress slacks as his mouth presses messily to yours. Spencer's tongue pushes into your mouth, his hands pushing your pants down and you kick them off. Instantly, Spencer's fingers are sliding into your panties and through your slick folds. You whine loudly against his mouth, your eyes fluttering shut as his palm roughly cradles the back of your head.

"Need to make sure you know who you belong to." Spencer snaps as he pulls away from you, quickly pushing two long fingers into your dripping hole. You cry out before Spencer is slapping a hand over your mouth, your back pressed against the wall. Spencer's slender frame is leaning against you, effectively trapping you against the wall and his body. Your eyes are rolling when Spencer's finger crook inside of you while roughly thrusting into you.

"Gotta be quiet, wouldn't want Luke to catch us now would we?" Spencer breathes in the shell of your ear, sending goosebumps spreading over your skin. You are completely at Spencer's mercy and you wouldn't have it any other way. The pleasure shooting through you goes rocketing up your spine when Spencer scissors his fingers inside of you. You're mumbling incoherently against his palm, desperate pleas not to stop, to please let you cum. Your entire body is flushed, and you feel sweat on your skin like a sheen layer over you. Spencer feels you begin to squeeze around his fingers and he replaces his palm with his mouth, swallowing all of your moans and desperate cries.

Your back is arching as your high approaches, and you climb higher and higher to meet it. Spencer never lets up, his fingers steadily pumping into you and his lips muffling all of your cries of pleasure. The sounds you make are music to his ears, they tell him that you will always be his, no matter what childish fears he has. Your hands come up to unbutton the buttons on Spencer's dress shirt, you need to feel more of him. Before you can finish undressing your husband, his fingers nudge your cervix and you instantly clamp around his fingers, your body convulsing.

"You look so beautiful when you cum." Spencer praises, his cock rock hard again. He needs to be inside of you as soon as humanely possible. Spencer pulls away from you to grasp the base of his cock, no need to bother with protection. The two of you already agreed that you want to try for a baby anyway.

"Please baby, please get inside me. How could you think I'd ever leave you? I love you, and nobody could make me cum like you can." You moan desperately, turning to bend over the table. Spencer's hand runs up your spine, enjoying the way you wriggle your hips in search of his cock. There are butterflies squirming in your stomach as you spread your legs apart wider for him, but he still doesn't bring his cock closer to you.

"Oh c'mon Spence don't do this please. Baby, fuck me." You plead, nearly sobbing as you shamlessly beg. He presses his tip against your soaked entrance and you whine. You hear fabric rustling around and you turn your head just in time to see him pull his tie from around his neck.

"I needed to hear you beg for me, and this is to keep you quiet. As much as I love the sounds you make when I'm inside you, I can't let anyone else hear you." Spencer says, his voice low and rumbling from his chest. You open your mouth to let him tie the silk fabric in your mouth. You try to whimper but you gag around the tie in your mouth, and you see a pleased smile cross onto Spencer's face. Your fingers grasp at the edge of the table as you impatiently wait for Spencer to push into you. You feel his glorious cock nestled at your entrance, the tip barely nudging in. You feel another wave of slick gush out of you and Spencer is running his tip through your already drenched folds. Such a tease.

You whine softly, trying to push back against him. Spencer chuckles darkly before his hands grasp your hips to hold you steady. With one firm thrust, Spencer is breaching your folds and sliding deep inside you. You feel heat searing through you, your head dropping to the table as you whimper through the burn. The stretch burns more then you anticipated, and you hear Spencer groaning softly, which sends another wave of liquid heat rushing through you.

"God you feel so good baby, you take my cock so fucking well." Spencer praises, gently pulling out to slowly thrust back in. His eyes are locked on the place where you two connect, watching with hooded eyes as his cock disappears inside you.

"I wish you could see this baby, I love watching you take my cock." He praises through a soft moan, and you drink up every sound he makes. Spencer needed this so bad and you love the fact that you can give him a type of relief nobody else on the planet can give him. Spencer steadily thrusts into you when you both hear footsteps slowly passing outside the room. You expect Spencer to stop, to pull out of you and start redressing but he doesn't. He slows his pace considerably, but he still slowly thrusts into you.

"Shh, I would hate for whoever that is to see my cock buried in your pretty pussy." Spencer whispers as he leans forward to whisper in your ear. You struggle to contain the whimpers, but somehow you remain completely silent as Spencer gently thrusts into you. Once whoever it is passes by, Spencer resumes his quicker thrusts. His pelvis hits your ass with enough force to send you lurching across the table and your fingers scramble to find purchase against the smooth surface.

"This is my pussy, you're my wife, you're mine. Not Luke's, not that dick from the Prison. Mine." Spencer says, punctuating the words with a sharp thrust into you. You wished you could answer him, that you could cry to the heavens that you belong to Spencer Reid- that you never want to belong to anybody else. You settle for squeezing his cock whenever it returns to your velvety warmth, chanting the same word in your head over and over.

Yours yours yours yours yours.

Your forehead presses against the table, muffled and strangled cries escaping your lips every time Spencer hits deep inside you. His cock stretches you perfectly, and always hits places deep inside you. Places you didn't know existed. Soon you feel your orgasm creeping up on you, and you feel lightheaded so you reach up to yank the tie away from your mouth.

"Please make me cum Spence, I'm so close baby please don't stop." You beg, muffling your moans with your palm as he drives his cock into you. You feel sweat covering your entire body and Spencer holds your hips with a bruising force. You feel that coil winding tighter and tighter, and you release a high pitched whine when Spencer's hand snakes around your body to thumb your clit.

"Oh Spencer your cock feels so good, soo good baby. Always feels so good, fuck baby I love you," You're not sure what you're saying at this point, an incoherent mess of praises for the man above you. Spencer loves when he reduces you to this, speaking in a jumble of words and disconnected statements because you can't think with his cock inside you.

"I, shit, I love you-" Spencer gasps, slamming his cock inside you and rolling your clit before you're squeezing around him tightly, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. You cum in hot gushes around him and Spencer can only offer a few more stuttering thrusts before he's cumming with a loud growl, coating your walls in his hot cum. Spencer keeps his cock inside you, ensuring his cum stays inside you. He wants to get you pregnant. His palms gently hold your hips, and all the frustration he's felt all day has completely disappeared. His chest is heaving from the exertion but he feels more relaxed then he has all day. There's a smile on your face and your eyes are closed as your legs finally give out and you collapse against the table.

"You okay?" You hear Spencer's voice, and you can't help but smile when you hear that he's panting slightly. You hum with a smile on your face.

"I'm amazing." You mumble back, feeling Spencer begin to gently massage your back. You love enjoying the afterglow with him, even if you're laying on a table. Slowly Spencer pulls out, but he groans softly when he sees his cum inside your pussy. He reaches to the floor to pull your panties and dress slacks back up your legs and he quickly tucks himself back into his pants. He buttons the 4 buttons you managed to open on his shirt before he's gently pulling you to stand.

"You sure you're alright?" Spencer asks, concern in his eyes. You nod with a smile, but when he releases his hold on your shoulders, you feel your legs tremble and give out underneath you. Spencer immediately catches you and sets you down on the table. You laugh softly.

"Guess you fucked me good."

"Sorry." Spencer says sheepishly, but you press a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Don't be, that had to have been the best sex we've had in a long time." You mumble against his lips and Spencer hums in agreement. Reaching for his tie, Spencer shoves it in his pocket before he pokes his head out of the room you guys just defiled.

"Spencer, I'm so sorry about what I said. I love you so much, I didn't mean what I said about my ring-" You blubber suddenly, drawing Spencer's attention to you. He cradles your head against his chest, pressing kisses to your forehead.

"I know baby, it's okay. I love you." Spencer answers quietly, holding you to him tightly.

"I'm sorry I was a jerk today. I'm just so protective of you. I can't let anything steal you from me." Spencer admits softly and you cup his cheeks to make him look at you. There is a sadness in his eyes that you want to obliterate, you can't stand it when he's sad. It breaks your heart.

"Nothing could steal me from you. I only want you Spencer." You say quietly and you see tears misting his eyes. He presses his lips desperately against yours, and you feel tears cascading down yours and his cheeks. The kiss is wet, but it's passionate and you throw every ounce of love you have for this man into it. When you and Spencer part, your foreheads are pressed together.

"Hey Spence? How am I gonna get to the hotel. I can't walk." You say softly with a giggle and Spencer smiles mischievously.

"I guess I'll have to carry you." He scoops you bridal style into his arms then and you blush deeply when he carries you out of the room and towards the front entrance.

"Spencer! Everybody is going to know!" You whisper into his ear and he chuckles.

"Good."

[talentlessmuse]

Alright everyone, I saw a post recently talking about Hadestown costuming, specifically in reference to the removal of layers of clothing representing the characters revealing more of themselves as people.

I want to talk about an aspect of the costume design as well, but instead of being about the bigger themes of the costuming overall, I'm going to focus in on one aspect of one costume because I find it very interesting.

I present to you Mr Hades in his Act II attire:

There's a lot that's been discussed about his costume both in terms of aesthetics and what it represents from a character and storytelling aspect. I'm not looking at the costume as a whole though. Specifically, I want to talk about the bands he's wearing around his arms because they are far more interesting as a design choice than I think most people realize.

Those bands are called sleeve garters. Yes, garters weren't just for holding stockings up on your legs or to be used as a part of modern wedding traditions. In the past, men would wear specifically designed garters on their shirtsleeves.

Nothing strange about that. Was quite common back in the latter part of the 19th century and into the early 20th century because ready made shirts were all made with a single extra long sleeve length. Men wore the garters to let them customize the sleeve length to fit when wearing the shirt under a jacket and so that the shirt cuffs wouldn't become dirty from daily use.

Okay. It's normal. Why is it worth focusing on then?

Because the sleeve garter was normal for the working class. The wealthy would get their shirts tailored and have the sleeves adjusted to fit them. Not wearing sleeve garters was another show--if a slightly more subtle one--of wealth.

We know Hades is wealthy. The lyrics make that very clear to the audience, so why is he wearing them?

Like what they do with the tattoo, it manages to call back to the idea of Hades having built himself up. Those sleeve garters are something a working man would wear, and for someone who is as conspicuous about his wealth and power as Hades is, it's an interesting choice. He dresses in fine suits and doesn't have to worry about getting his hands dirty anymore now that he has workers, but he still chooses to wear sleeve garters. Personally, I like to think he has a number of little behaviors that call back to that time when he wasn't the king of silver and of gold. Things he isn't even consciously aware of but hasn't managed to shake because he did know what it was like to have nothing.

The truth is probably that he wears them because aesthetic. It looks appropriately old-timey and also just looks good as a part of the whole ensemble, especially with the snakeskin design on them. Excellent costuming choice there. However, if that was an intentional choice, I have nothing but absolute love for whoever had that idea.

[ef-1]

At the risk of exposing myself as someone who's watched f1 (🤢) for far too long, please stop freaking out about Joe Saward saying Daniel is getting dropped mid season lol.

Saward, aside from being a pretentious racist relic who spends his time on twitter making fun of 18 year old aspiring journalists, seldom knows anything about the driver market. With the exception of technical knowledge, he often doesn't know what he's talking about. At all.

If you watch the Missed Apex podcast you'd know that Saward has a long and story-ed history of bad takes and bizarre rumours.

Just off the cuff from the END of 2020 alone, Saward gave us:

- Seb would retire in 2020.

- Sergio was moving to Haas or Williams and that Red Bull weren't even an option.

- Vandoorne would replace Lewis instead of George for Sakhir

- Mick was signing to Alfa Romeo

- His weird obsession with Mazepin being a secretly a very talented driver

- Alex was NOT going to get dropped by Red Bull and would continue on into 2021.

In January we had Saward saying, with certainty, that Jean is back at Ferrari. He even tweeted "watch out tomorrow" then when tomorrow came and nothing happened he said "ferrari have not announced it yet but they will"

It turned out he'd heard about rumored reshuffling of management in Ferrari and he was right. The reshuffling did happen. At Ferrari Automotive. Had exactly 0 to do with Ferrari's sporting division or F1...

Also he's honestly just a nasty little man with v little human decency and his resume includes taking cheap shots at Michael Schumacher's accident and saying Lewis wearing the "arrest the cops who killed Breonna Taylor" shirt was tacky and looked bad because Lewis was a "walking billboard" and that's bad for f1.

Under the cut is my all time favourite Joe Saward prediction of all time :)

“Lewis Hamilton does not know much about racing history and so cannot learn from the mistakes of others. Perhaps he thinks that if it fails he will at least have the consolation of earning loads more money and being a bigger star, thanks to his hustling management that will sell his image here, there and everywhere. That might make him an international celebrity on a bigger scale than he is, but it will not make him a racing legend. Perhaps Mercedes will pull it off and then Hamilton will look clever, but I fear that this will be a move similar to James Hunt joining Wolf; Emerson Fittipaldi joining Fittipaldi, Jacques Villeneuve moving to BAR or Niki Lauda’s ill-fated move to Brabham. History relates that you do not leave a winning team in F1 unless it is to go to another proven winner…” - Joe Saward, about Lewis' move from McLaren to Mercedes

[pedropascalito]

Max Phillips’ Clothes Suit #1

Max wears clothes, and I have opinions. 

Let’s start with the basics: 

I love this gray suit on him. We don’t get a great look at the jacket, but it appears to be a classic two-button. Approved. And, the notch style and skinny lapels are a great choice for Pedro, due to his long torso and lanky frame. I tried to see when this movie was filmed, not released, and I couldn’t pin it down. But I assume it was somewhere around the time he filmed Oberyn. Full lank era. 

The tie: love the color, but it’s just a bit too wide for this jacket. A good rule of thumb is that a tie at its widest point should equal the width of the lapel at its widest point. This tie should be more narrow, to visually align with the lapels. His long, lean torso would look better in a thinner tie as well. Fat ties are for bigger men with bigger lapels. Not a miss, but not a home run. Let’s say…second base tie. 

The pocket handkerchief and vest are nice touches, and would move this suit just shy of ‘extra’ for everyday work, except they are shamelessly outshadowed by my favorite part of this ensemble: 

Those fucking cufflinks! Now, I do looove that Max is wearing a classic French cuff shirt, in this classic blue color, but those cufflinks are kiiillling me. I would NEVER buy them or recommend them, but on Max? They work. This dude is extra as fuck and I love it. Let’s get a closer look:

These babies are strapped AND jeweled and I want to know if he bought them himself or they were a Vampire MBA graduation gift. I don’t think I could take seriously any man who showed up in cufflinks like this, but on Max, I’d demand he take them off and attach them to my panties, just because. 

All those fantasies I have of me and Max in a mirrored ceiling hotel room, naked in a marble bathtub with only candles for lighting all around us, drinking champagne with fake diamonds at the bottom of the glass, my red satin and rhinestone strap gown draped over the dressing table chair? Totally validated by these cufflinks. 

We never get a shot below the waist so I know nothing about the pant length, cuffs, or shoes he’s wearing, but all I can say is: they better not be black. 

A few other stray notes: 

There is some interesting stitch finishing on this jacket, and this will come into play later in the movie. 

The jacket could have better tailoring. The pad under the shoulder isn’t quite right. I know this was a low budget movie so I can let it slide. But I noticed.

Why hello Mr. Bicep. Please come out to pla-ay. 

That’s it for this outfit! 

[memes-saved-me]

TW: Injury, homophobic slur

It was in fact Hopper who noticed first. The kids being too swept up in their own lives and school drama to see it. The subtle touches, the leaving early, the looks and gazes from across the room but most importantly the swapping of clothes. Just an odd shirt here or there, a jumper definitely owned by one of them on the other.

Little things no one else noticed or cared enough to connect. However, Jim had very basic training and the past few years had taught him how to collect clues, what to look for and more importantly come to conclusions.

A conclusion that confused him for longer than he would admit. Monsters and little girls in the woods was one thing, two teenage boys together was something he had never personally seen first hand. He had read the stories from the big cities of boys dying alone in hospitals after being abandoned by their parents, an act he didn't understand at all.

The thought of leaving your own child like that was something he could never do, no matter who they loved. You should feel lucky to have had so long with them, some parents lack such luck.

He had heard rumours from time to time, hushed whispers received with a gasp or a scowl. But never did he think the resident bad boy and the son of rich family up town to be what he had heard about from time to time.

Of course, he never said anything. His conclusions being just that, a theory with no actual proof. That was until one night the station received a call from a concerned neighbour on Old Cherry Road. Shouting and banging coming from next door.

He took it, knowing exactly who lived there and what went on but not having the chance to catch it in motion.

As he pulled up outside his concern rose significantly when he saw the familiar BMW parked on the curb. When he got near the front door he could hear the yelling, so loud he knocked to no answer.

"You think you can just walk away after coming into my house and-," Hopper kicked open the front door to find a scene he had feared as the worst.

Neil Hargrove had Steve Harrington by his hair only a few inches from the coffee table's edge, bloody to the point of unrecognisable. His hands limp on the top in an attempt to push back against the force of being smashed into the wood. Billy Hargrove was close by, crawling towards them on his front.

Everything froze as he took it in, as Neil Hargrove's perfect family man image crumbles. His grip loosened on Steve's hair, allowing for him to slide down to the rug and lie flat on his back as he coughed up blood. Billy still moving to get to him, tears streaming down his cheeks as he reached out to grab his shoulder and pull him up right.

"This boy came in here and attacked me," Neil lied. "I had to defend myself."

"That's bullshit," Jim spat at him and moved to grab his arm. "You're a piece of shit father who doesn't deserve the right to even be called one."

As Hopper pushed him up against the wall he looked back at the two of them to see Steve lying in Billy's lap, cheek pressed tightly to his temple as he held him close. Steve practically unconscious as Billy tried to keep him awake.

"Look at them! They're just some fags who need dealt with," he tried to get out of Jim's grip but it wasn't happening.

"You better shut the fuck up," he pulled him off the wall and turned him around to hand cuff him. He pulled out his walkie. "I'm gonna need an ambulance at 5280 Old Cherry and a back up vehicle."

"I haven't done anything," Neil squirmed but Hopper didn't budge. "You'll be fired for this."

"Oh, trust me I won't."

Billy was whispering in Steve's ear, something too quiet for Jim to hear but he didn't want to. It was for Steve, not him. Still he held Neil there until the back up arrived and handed him over to them before going over to speak to them before the ambulance arrived.

"Hey, you got any family near by or a place to stay," he asked Billy.

"He's all I got," he replied with a wince, hands still wrapped around Steve with no sign of letting go.

"You wanna stay with me? At least for tonight because the hospital waiting room ain't the place for those bruises."

"What?" Billy's eyes widened. "I'm not leaving him."

"Alright but they're just gonna send you home and keep him in so its the waiting room or a bed," Hopper told him and watched as he looked down at Steve's blood covered face and hair before turning back to him.

"You don't care that we're..."

"Look, kid I don't care about any of that shit. There's bigger issues in this town than two teenage boys being gay," he rolled his eyes slightly. "Do you want a bed for the night?"

"Yes," he said. "Please."

Hopper watched as Steve was lifted into the back of the ambulance, Billy hesitating beside him the entire time. His hand clearly wanting to reach out and hold Steve's but too scared to do so in front of so many people. Still he climbed inside and sat down as the paramedic focused on Steve.

He followed them to the hospital and waited around until Steve was cleaned up and the nurse informed him he would be fine but needed some stitches and a hell of a lot of pain relief. Max ran in at one point wanting to know what was going on. Her mother having gone to the police station instead.

Later on as the early hours of the morning began to pass by Billy appeared and followed Hopper out of the hospital and into his truck. Face cleaned and taped up in various places with an ice pack under his arm against his ribs as they drove in silence. El preparing his bed for Billy as they made the drive to his cabin.

That was when he knew for a fact this was not the last time he would have to deal with the the two teenage boys he now could for sure call a couple. A couple who would face hell and had already, but he would be damned if he didn't make sure they made it out alive. Together and not alone because it was a privilege to be a parent, even to someone else's child.

[ashlynniis-bracketeers]

Faust needs to take a self-care day {Guilty Gear}

I got this done last night, but I immediately had to crash to bed afterwards ahsgas I have no clue what to name this.

More Faust, another thing based off of his Strive design. Complicated-ey designs aren't my strong suit. He may technically be less depressed in Strive than compared to his previous appearances, but he still looks like a walking corpse and sleep paralysis demon, which his old acquaintance Testament (who I represented with the angry top hat) 100% would not abide by lmao. He needs a nap, a baker's dozen of doughnuts, and clothing that fits better and doesn't make him the butt of "children's hospital/color theory" jokes. Also, more belts. Two belts on his waist, belts on the sheath holder, belts on his gloves...

I gave him a sheath for Margarita (his scalpel) because I A) Wanted more gold/yellow to balance with the green and B) Felt it'd be weird for him to be waving around his big scalpel without protection, particularly outside of combat. He still holds the scalpel in his mouth and skitters on all-fours when he's in a fight, though. Old habits.

I hope you like it!

Design notes/other info under the cut.

Design notes/Other notes/etc. :

- I gave him a bluish-green main color as a mid-point between Strive and Dr. Baldhead. In all of his non-Strive designs, he's had green on his design somewhere (ML: Primary color. X: Pants. XX: Pants. Xrd: Pants). His "thing" is that he went back to "Square One" and is mentally overlapping a lot with Dr. Baldhead, so I decided to bring back being primarily green with a bit of a blue tint because he does not want to go full serial-killer again. I also removed the red splotches because he's just asking to have the Tumblr "children's hospital/color theory" joke used on him lmao.

- His glove cuffs are longer overall and he can adjust the glove tightness with the belts.

- He has his shirt tucked-in, though it is still rather loose/baggy on him.

- The pack he wears on his belt is much bigger on the inside (...and occasionally spits out straw).

- He got the sheath from ties with the Kiske family. The inside of it has "Margarita" engraved in it near the opening (the name given to the scalpel in pre-release articles for the original GG).

- His voice is less gravelly, but is still rather deep compared to pre-Strive.

- He still has trouble summoning flowers, and he decided to give his sheath floral motifs because he still likes plants. The texture on the very end is based off of sunflowers.

- For the pack on one of his belts, the pin is based off the design present on the front of his coat in Xrd. The handle is a bright red-orange to make it easy for him to see

- He often hangs out with Testament and they like talking about their hobbies/history together.- His sense of humor leans less towards being crass (i.e. Kancho attack) or lolzXDsorandum, and more towards black comedy/doctor humor/gallows humor. That'd basically be the only reason for his Mini-Fausts to still have nooses around their necks lmao. There's a certain flair to laugh at death. I've met a few doctors and they all have some flavor of black comedy/morbid humor and thought it would fit the funny sleep paralysis demon.