#bought it from angel's sensory room :)

[the-pipisroom]

swaggie is ready for unrestrained summer fun!!

[nyx-umbrakinesis]

Alastor x FReader.

CW: angst, P in V sex, tentacles, biting, blood, dominance (Alastor), submission (Reader), ropes, bondage, punishment, spanking, breath play, sensory play, sensory deprivation, hard sex, multiple orgasms, sensory overload, edging overstimulation, crying, friction burn from ropes. (Small amount of breeding kink if you squint) (Use of a noose, but not in the way you think, Alastor's basically a sassy bitch).

(+ aftercare for 'reader').

Word Count: 9240.

Forever Bound.

The agonised screams as acid rain hits the sizzling flesh of the sinners caught in the raging storm outside, the pleasant burn of full-bodied rye as it slides smoothly down his throat, the smell of acrid tobacco drifting across the bar from Husk’s filthy habit, and the sight of Angel Dust once again trying to tease and sexually harass the aforementioned bartender.

All of these things were a vague awareness for Alastor as he idly drums his claws on the split woodgrain of the conjured drinking booth he sat at for privacy, eyeing you from across the room with as much subtlety as a bull in a China shop.

You piqued his interest, always so avoidant of him, except for when there was no escape, then you were utterly caustic with him. Alastor found this to be unusual behaviour, you were so affable with the others... skittish, but affable... so why did he always seem to rub you the wrong way, granted he was a powerful overlord, but he’d seen you speak with Rosie just fine.

Cute, was one word he’d often thought of when he enjoyed riling you up, your fuzz getting even fuzzier, especially your tail, oh he so adored teasing you, your look of utter fury despite being so very small, and your tail, oh your tail... his own tail was easily hidden away, secreted from the others, but your tail was much too magnificent for that, long, flat, wide, with a delightful curl at the end, and a divine reddish colour.

It was rather striking, Alastor smiled to himself as he contemplated and schemed about how best to invade your personal space today, purely to enjoy the sight of your tail frizzing up and eyes dart about while you tried to find an exit, he wondered if you would try to literally climb to get away from him this time, just like the other day when you'd scrambled up the banister of the main staircase, oh that had been most entertaining.

As he stewed in his scheming he listened to your laughter as Vaggie explained how she and Charlie had gone to the store yesterday only to meet a sinner who had fallen face first into the bag of rice they had been toting once they saw the Princess of Hell doing a regular grocery shop, Vaggie had been beside herself in tears of laughter while the ‘kind’ Charlie had helped the ‘poor’ sinner out, she had even bought his groceries for him.

Alastor swirled his rye a bit before knocking back the rest of the drink with a satisfied crackle of static, glass thudding back down on the table, his eyes still affixed to you and the way your cherub like cheeks looked adorable when you smiled... that sight alone was what forced him to act, his own smile curling higher, perhaps it was a little too much rye that forced his hand, but he wouldn’t regret his next actions if it got him what he needed from you.

Your soul attention.

Drawing on the wispy feeling of his umbrakinesis he traverses through the shadows to the unoccupied space behind you, reforming silently before bending forward so his chin hovers over your shoulder, getting as close as possible without actually touching you, mouth by your ear, your tail almost touching his pinstripe coat.

“What a delightful afternoon we’re having wouldn’t you agree Dear?” Watching in utter delight as you react to his startling presence.

Jumping in fright and almost colliding with his chin you yelp in shock; you had spied Alastor earlier but had been confident he was too busy with his jazz and rye to bother you this afternoon and had deemed it safe to stand around socialising.

You wince as you taste the sharp metallic tang of blood from biting your tongue, “I’ll be going out Vaggie,” you say nonchalantly, whilst endeavouring to ignore the demon who seems to always send a prickly electrical current through your entire nervous system whenever he comes into close proximity with you.

“Now Dear, I don’t think you would enjoy a stroll out in the acid rain right now. Perhaps, if you’d like an outdoors experience you would be thrilled to accompany my good self for a stroll, as you may be aware I do have a rather authentic bayou in my private quarters, the perfect indoor, outdoors escapade, with none of the risk of treacherous pesky weather patterns.” Alastor gestures in the direction of the lobby staircase, trying for an endearing smile.

You start to shake your head, mouth opening to politely refuse the offer, your heart racing as your nervous nature screams at you, ‘DANGER’. However, before you have the chance to decline, Charlie’s jubilant voice interrupts.

“What a wonderful idea Alastor, this is sooo awesome, oh my goodness, well done for reaching out and making an effort to be involved, I know you’ve both had your differences, and this is perfect! I think it would be excellent for the both of you to get to know one and other, oh well done Alastor, I know you don’t usually like getting involved in our redemption activities, I’m so proud of you.”

Charlie then looks at you, with those big hopeful eyes, as Alastor's grin freezes, but he doesn’t argue with Charlie, his own intentions being far less than innocent, but he refuses to let anyone know the inner workings of his mind, he almost laughs as he hears a loud scream from the city below, one more sinner clearly having reached their demise in the biting rain.

You almost recoil, your whole-body vibrating, screaming at you to escape... your instincts get ignored inevitably, the distinct scent of Alastor drifting over you, the rye on his breath, his woodsmoke, iron and musky smell fragrant and intoxicating.

You stay rooted to the spot, Charlie is technically in charge of the rehabilitation process, so if you refuse her ‘exercises’, you might get kicked out... if not by her, then the facility manager (Alastor) who is waiting with a shark like grin for your answer might take it upon himself to eject you... right out into the acid pouring outside, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, as you see no alternative solutions.

With a pained smile you make eye contact with Alastor, your stomach swooping, your heart palpitating, “that would be lovely, thank you for the offer,” you say through gritted teeth acquiescing to the veiled demand, you are very tempted to sprint out into the acid rain instead of being alone with the Radio Demon... being the subject of his undivided attention.

“Oh Darling, of course, think nothing of it, allow me to escort you.” Alastor holds his arm out like a gentleman, a shiver of fear prickles up your spine in response.

To Charlie’s utter exhilaration, Alastor takes your hand and threads your arm through his and marches you off towards the stairwell, your legs feel like jelly, but his stride is even, so you scramble to keep up.

You take one last desperate beseeching look at Vaggie over your shoulder, and she gives you a sympathetic shrug as Charlie practically buzzes in excitement at her side.

Alastor natters for the whole trip to the upper floors, leading you to your doom his bedroom, as you numbly look at anything but him, paying attention to the abundance of the apple decor around the hotel, anxiety spiking at an all-time high, not listening to a word he says as your mind races with potential escape plans, (your tail frizzing up from his static energy), which he notices delightedly.

You don’t notice the crackle of his radio tone cutting out briefly after he says your name for the fifth time as he tries to garner your attention, this time he says it accompanied by a tap on your nose, which makes you blink rapidly, flinching as your eyes and mind come back into focus.

His sharp grin screams peril and you react defensively, “What?” You ask rudely, annoyed at your lack of recourse.

“Oh, Dearest you are hilarious,” he mocks without bothering to repeat himself, annoying you even more. If it was so important to disturb your clearly distant thoughts, surely it should be important enough to enlighten you once your attention was actually directed at him.

You give him an impatient, unimpressed look, and he snickers again.

“We’ve arrived of course, silly Doe.”

You shake your head to clear it again, acutely aware that he had called you a ‘doe’, apt really considering you’re part squirrel, but you felt funny with the way he had uttered it, the sound full of implications, you’re also very aware he’s a buck, which seemed to be the whole reason he brought up your animalistic status, choosing to ignore the bait and not wanting to risk his wrath currently, in such an isolated situation, you nod at him.

He ushers you inside, still feeling rather dazed you take in the peculiar sight of his room, he hadn't been lying, the room certainly appeared how described previously, half bedroom, with sparse furniture, the other half of the room an extensive bayou.

Your stomach dropped; it would be very easy to hide your body in there. You idly wonder how many bodies he had hidden away in there, and just how vast it might be... is it some sort of pocket dimension...

He looks down at you observing every minute detail of your reaction, wanting to reach out and touch your fluffy tail, instead his fingers snap several times in front of your face, disturbing you from wandering thoughts yet again, the warmth of this area of the room feeling even warmer in the intimacy of being alone in his bedroom with such a beautiful little doe, one that occupies his thoughts persistently... confusingly.

“My Dear, are you quite alright.” Alastor makes a show of checking your temperature with the back of his hand, his craving to touch you overriding all other senses and you jump away from him yet again, feeling annoyed at your reaction, but he doesn’t let it show.

You nod, as he laughs at you, “I’m fine,” you don’t back down, wanting to get this over with as fast and painlessly as possible.

So, despite your protesting body, you seize his arm and start trying to haul him off into the treeline.

It did smell rather fresh and aromatic in here, it was quite pleasant, not that you’d admit it to him.

Alastor hums amused but elated, deliberately setting a slow pace, that you cannot (try as you might) make him a shred swifter, your efforts having no effect on the much stronger overlord, to your dismay.

You exhale heavily and disengage from his arm, not allowing you freedom however, he quickly takes a hold of your hand, looping it back into the cook of his elbow again, as he continues escorting you, every step deliberate and exaggerated, making you feel outraged.

Without a word you amble together painstakingly, concentrating on anything other than the strong arm beneath your palm, the feeling of the squishy moss beneath your shoes, the rustle of a breeze (you can’t tell whether or not is artificial) in the trees and through your hair, the green and brown encircling you both on all sides, darkening as you both traverse deeper and deeper within, isolating you with him, you try valiantly to ignore the heat radiating from his body, or how pleasant awful it feels, the air thickens, your breathing growing laboured with tension.

You shiver, you hadn’t dressed for outdoor weather so were getting fairly chilly.

As you continue the odd journey undisturbed, you begin to think it felt rather nice, despite the company and the silence stretching on, and even with the warning bells ringing in your head, you start to relax infinitesimally as he appeared content to leave you undisturbed... famous last words.

“I think it would be wearisome if we keep proceeding silently my Dear, and I’ve been utterly intrigued by you for a while,” he supresses his mirth as he observes your tail frizz back up.

Static skating up your skin at the sound of his voice your body erupts in goosebumps, you try to convince yourself are unpleasant, but you can’t deny that this time it doesn’t feel so terrible, it seems after long exposure to him in the bayou, your body’s response didn’t feel like a warning, you can’t deny it, especially as it seems to evoke heat within, to your detriment you had to mentally stop yourself leaning into him to seek out more warmth.

You decide to humour him, if only to keep him talking, wanting more of the sensations.

“What has you intrigued about me... I mean I’m just a lowly sinner after all, wh-...”

“Why your aversion to me of course,” ever the diplomat, “for a while now I’ve noticed you avoiding me Little Doe, and I can’t help feeling slightly wounded by your actions, why do you treat everyone else so much more preferably? I feel perhaps that you don’t like me, not one little bit,” Alastor clutches his heart for dramatic effect.

“Well... I ermm... I just know all about you? Everyone has told me how dangerous you are, and I’d just rather keep my distance and not risk...”

“Don’t try to fool me with half-truth's Darling, there’s more you aren’t sharing, I can ascertain that for myself, or you wouldn’t flee the very sight of me when you know with certainty, I wouldn’t hurt a resident of our dear Charlie’s fine establishment... I would be a poor host indeed if I started killing off the wayward souls seeking redemption, not to mention how terribly bored I’d get when those seeking pointless help stopped turning up.” Alastor’s voice lowered dangerously the static increasing in his tone, he hates being lied to, especially by you, certainly in this moment, when he finally has you to himself, unable to spurn his company.

Alastor has found you running through his mind more and more lately, his days revolving around your routines, he tried to compromise with his unusual feelings, trying to interact with you as much as possible, yet your constant rejection persistently pains him, and now... Now he’s finally confronting you about it and you have the gall to try deceiving him with falsehood, when he can smell exactly what his presence is doing to you.

Alastor is very aware now as to how your body responds to him, his nostrils flare, the aroma he scents from you right now isn’t fear, fear is bitter, this is sweet, cloying, intoxicating, his eyes flicker to radio dials as he must take a firm hold of his self-control.

Your adrenaline spikes, and you start tugging, but you can’t get your hand free, “Alastor... I...”

“Another of your lies and you won’t appreciate the consequences Little Doe, so think before you speak, as I won’t allow another lie to go unpunished... and I want to assure you, I’ll know if you do.” Alastor uses his height to intimidate, towering over you menacingly.

Your heart pounds in your chest, your body shaking, his warmth and musk overpowering your faculties, you violently shake your head, at an utter loss for words.

Alastor chuckles at the visual, still keeping a firm deterring grip on your hand, he wouldn’t be surpised if he let go, if you proceeded by scrambling up a tree.

“You know what I think Little Doe? I think that you crave me,” Alstor’s heated body pressing closer to yours, “and you’re too terrified of your own feelings to even realise that’s precisely what you desire.”

You whimper quietly but his ignores you and presses on, his presence making you spiral, especially when he reaches to brush a strand of your hair from your face, causing all attempts to get away from him to halt as you freeze.

“Your body is responding to mine so deliciously, can’t you feel it? Every time you try escaping those feelings, you’re in denial, but I know better,” he leans down right beside your ear, a shiver running up your spine.

“I... can... smell... you,” he whispers his voice sending tingles all over you, your skin erupting in goosebumps yet again, eyes flying wide as he finishes enunciating teasingly.

You shake your head in denial, eyes wide in panic, your legs threatening to give way, and you try to fruitlessly tug at your trapped arm again, he growls deeply in warning about lying.

However, being completely overwhelmed you ignore the admonition, you can’t flee, you don’t freeze this time... so you fight... verbally.

“I’d rather be hanged again than crave anything you have to offer,” you snap, your free hand suddenly flying to your mouth in horror, you know you’ve really done it now.

His predatory smile widens, and several shadow tentacles burst menacingly from the ground, he releases his grip on you as all your limbs are restrained tightly in their grasp, one winding around your waist for support, you're hoisted into the air with ease and a fearful squeak, until you’re eye level with him, a good two feet off the ground.

“I warned you Little Doe,” Alastor growls, his claw gently tracing down your cheek leaving a tingling in its wake.

Prowling around you with growls still escaping him, once Alastor gets behind you, he tugs on your tail, your body trembling, you begin, hyperventilating, he simply flattens it out like a rug, and he shakes it like one too, several times until he makes a small satisfied hum of static, making you growl back at him.

“I’ve wanted to do that for some time now,” Alastor chuckles, calming slightly at your response, enjoying antagonising you, feeling at ease now, his tone completely lightening again at your helplessness, feeling every facet of your fear and desire from your scent alone.

“Now, about you, and your proclivity to lie to all powerful beings... well we’ve certainly got to correct that pesky behaviour for a start, I did warn you Dear that there would be punishment.”

He steps closer to you, circling back around to your front brushing against your tail and the fabric of your clothes as he goes, at least now granting you a visual on his location, you had been nearly panicking with him being behind you whilst you’re defenceless, your breathing calms slightly as he comes back into view.

You watch as his ears twitch, your cheeks flush at the cute visual, as he contemplates his next move, his grin looks paticularly malevolant as he slowly pulls off his jacket, rearranging the tentacles, he slips it over you, threading your arms through the long sleeves and shortening them with his magic so the tentacles can wind back around your wrists... You’re bound again, admittidly much warmer, but now engulfed in his heady scent, and it instantly drives you crazy.

You can’t believe how good that smell is to your senses, you feel a flood of heat in your tummy and underwear, you try to clear your head, but your nose just wants to bury itself into the warm heaven wafting upwards.

Alastor smirks when your cheeks flush even darker, knowing full well what’s happening as his body had been releasing pheramones for a while now in reaction to your arousal.

You feel lightheaded as he stops inches from your face, “Ready to admit it?”

You shake your head again, but don’t even notice how you didn’t protest to the fact that there is something to admit.

He dramatically sighs but looks utterly gleeful, he clicks his fingers and more tentacles spawn, ascending your legs, making you whimper and squirm, they ghost up your thighs, teasing the edge of your panties under your skirt, but withdraw at the last moment, skirting back down your legs maddeningly, stroking all the exposed sensitive flesh they can find.

Your temperature seems to raise even higher as now touch comes into play, and so as a twist he decides to deprive you of a sense this time, taking off his bowtie he gets a tentacle to hold your head still, and binds the tie over your eyes, and everything goes dark.

He takes a moment to admire the sight of you all wrapped up just for him, vulnerable, and whimpering, he would think you’d panic at what he just did, but it only seemed to turn you on more as his sensitive nose picks up a fresh wave of sweet floral heat from you.

He continues his control, gliding the tentacles he commands silently all over you, as you try to take utterly pointlessly shallow breaths trying to not breathe in his scent as you dangle in mid-air, the scent heady and making you feel drunk, but with every gasp and whine you inhale more and more.

His tentacles driving you insane as you are unable to anticipate where any of them are coming from or going next, the blindfold making you jumpy, your knickers are drowned at this point, yet the refusal of the tentacles to touch anywhere you actually need them to has you utterly quivering and unable to hold in your rising sounds of need and protest.

Alastor leans his cane against a tree, feeling utterly buoyant as he hums a tune, marking another sense off his internal list, making sure you will break completely and perfectly for him, the power making his cock twitch in interest.

Only one left he thinks gleefully, so he uses his powers to keep the tentacles going, as his microphone begins to play one of his favourite jazz tunes so you won’t hear him approaching, this final sense he’ll have to do himself, but because of everything else so far, he knows just from your delightful sounds, this is what will tip you over the edge.

He has noted you haven’t once said no, or asked him to stop, but he does keep in mind that if you utter those words, he will respect them, a bastard he may be, but he’s not that sort of demon, in fact he notices you haven’t said anything since he took control, he tries to determine if it’s fear of him, or fear of your own feelings, too scared to ask for more, too cowardly to admit you like it.

Adjusting himself with his hand, he moves so he can feel your body heat radiating off you, getting close enough he has to hold his breath, he raises a finger and traces its tip across your lips, dragging it along the seam and your whole body shudders, you moan to his utter delight, he withdraws his finger as your tongue comes out trying to catch it, all the confirmation he needs, and while you groan in displeased agony he crashes his lips onto yours.

His tongue plundering and dancing with yours as you sigh in bliss, finally getting some real contact, the taste of him so deliciously enticing you don’t even think twice about reciprocating, your tongue eagerly venturing out to meet his.

Every touch, every lap of his tongue against yours is a shock to your system in the darkness of the makeshift blindfold, his hands maddeningly never once straying to your body as the tickling and stroking of the tentacles increases, sending shivers all over your body, his scent still a vast ocean around you, the sound of jazz not nearly loud enough to ground you, when you moan into his mouth you feel him smirk as he withdraws yet again and you nearly cry out for him, your legs trembling against the appendages wrapped around them as even more slide up your back as you desperately try to lean forward seeking him out blindly.

He chuckles, sensing victory is near, you yelp as you feel your tail tugged on again, already overly sensitive from the teasing and heightened sensations of being plunged into darkness, your skin burning with static from the energy he exudes, you felt like a live wire about to spark. You can feel the fluids literally running down your leg, the barrier of your knickers doing nothing anymore.

His alluring voice sounds in your right ear once more, “Ready to confess Pet?”

You whimper, your senses on high alert, you turn you head toward where you can hear him, another stronger waft of his scent has you weak, wanting fulfillment, your pussy swollen, dripping and aching, you moan again, your brain not functioning at full capacity as you can’t comprehend what he’s talking about.

You shiver again the tentacles never ceasing their torment, he laughs as he watches you pout trying to lean toward him for more stimulation.

“Soon Little Doe,” Alastor promises, “First you must admit why you’ve been running away from me and being a mean Little Pet to me for months now.” He boops your nose startling you, making him laugh once more.

“Tell me Dear One, what do I do to you that makes you literally climb banisters to flee my presence.”

You whimper for another moment you pussy spasming, clenching around thin air desperately, you’d given up trying to avoid his smell and embraced drinking it in greedily now, if he could see your eyes, he would barely be able to see the coloured rings of them.

“Y-you,” you take yet another deep breath, your whole body vibrating like a tuning fork as you try to writhe and buck agaisnt the tentacles to no avail. “You, make me wet, fuuuck... Alastor, please... I’ve been avoiding you... because everything about you sets off every instinct inside me... and, and, and... it scares me... but fuck it makes me horny so badly...”

“Oh really? And what pray tell do you do when I make you horny, other than flee?” He grins, using his breath to send goosebumps all over your neck as he tickles your ear with it, blowing gently.

“Please... Al...” You cry out more impatient than ever before, “stop teasing, I beg of you...”

“Ha, no.” Alastor laughs at you, and you nearly cry at the torment, your whole body getting no reprieve from the writhing mass stimulating you.

Gasping as one lingers for longer near your mound this time, you hasten to answer hoping for relief, “I run to my room, and I fuck myself on my fingers until I cry your name... Please Al, oh fuck please!” Tears sliding down your face.

The world seems to shift around you, you feel almost car sick, the blindfold is ripped from your face, you blink rapidly against the now blinding brightness, he’s petting your hair soothingly and you realise you’re both back in the more ‘normal’ portion of his bedroom, a wrought iron bed dominating the area, you were sure that wasn’t there when you’d entered.

He cups your face before you can regain anymore sense and kisses you fiercely in reward, granting you a boon for your honesty, you moan eagerly, clutching at his body, not even noticing the tentacles had freed you as you wrap yourself around him pleadingly, almost dry humping him as he snogs you soundly, drawing out your tongue to suck on, making you moan yet again.

“There’s a good Pet... now that you’ve finally admitted it to yourself, we can get down to business... and I’m not through with you yet Little Doe, but first your punishment.”

You groan in protest, but he silences you with a look, his sharp grin predatory, threatening, and despite your desperate need your body and mind react instinctively, deferring to him automatically, accepting your fate a little too willingly for your tastes, but what were you to do?

You lower your head, tilting to the side in submission, he growls in approval.

“You were cruel Little Doe, and I want your penance, or I will make it so you cannot cum for a week.”

You maddened with lust and need by now nearly scream in frustrated fear, shaking your head manically, making him laugh again, his scent making you lean toward him again wanting nothing more than to get lost in him, devour every iota of him and be devoured in return.

“Fine, do it... punish me, please... please don’t leave me like this... I’ll do anything.” You beg him frantically, your body aflame.

“There’s my good Little Doe,” Alastor says light-heartedly, scratching you behind your small, pointed ears.

He snaps his fingers and without further ado you’re plunged back into darkness, you feel suddenly chilly and vulnerable as the cool air hits your skin all at once, you have no moment to react to your sudden exposure as you feel yourself dragged and sprawled on your stomach over a strong pair of warm, furry thighs.

Immediately you realise what’s going to happen and a new flood of unimpeded slick drenches your own thighs to his utter delight, he takes a moment to run a slim digit up the inside of your thigh, gathering the juice making you shiver and press into his hand with a needy whine.

He hums in approval when he tastes you for the first time, the sound of pleasure from him causing another jolt to your core despite being unable to see him, he exaggerates the wet licking sounds for your benefit, watching your reactions keenly.

“Delicious... Now, two strikes for every month of avoidance and pain you’ve caused me, and another five on top for your lies and cruel remarks earlier, so a grand total of fifteen,” he says in a husky growl, you can even hear his smile, it was malicious.

You wait, flinching with every breeze ghosting your backside.

He entertains himself for several moments just watching you tense, writhing and trying to anticipate his actions, so instead he idly runs his fingers up and down your back soothingly, the fur of your tail brushing the back of his hand.

He planned keep it up for a while, except the sight of you so helpless yet willing and pliant has him unable to hold back for much longer, needing to take from you what he wants most so he can figure out why you affect him so strongly, and to stop you from ever being able to leave, watching your pleasure has him harder than he’s ever been in his life, the power over you has him feeling things he’s never felt before, and he’s too far gone to even begin unravelling what it signifies.

An almost imperceptible swish and you hiss as the sting on your backside jolted you with slight shock more than pain.

“Count, and thank me each time, or I shall begin again each time.” Instructional, his voice betraying no emotion.

You nod blindly, with a yelp as the next sting burns, your bum flinching away causing your hips to grind against his thigh, and you realise your error, “One, thank you Alastor.”

“Master,” he corrects, wanting you to get accustomed to the idea.

“Master,” you parrot obediently, already a sopping leaking mess, Alastor’s thigh getting wet already.

You tremble in his lap, hyper aware of the hard thick rod pressing into your tummy.

In your distraction another swish and an audible slap, you wince, a groan escaping your throat, “Two, thank you A-Master.”

The warning growl to not make the error again has you squirming on him, and the next swift smack comes even harder, your arse begins to throb, heating up from the abuse as you can’t stop your audible reactions either, grunting louder in pain.

SMACK, you cry out in pain as the next strike hurts, tears start forming again, wetting the blindfold further, you choke out the gratitude, “T-three, thank you Master.”

The next he has mercy from you enduring and obeying on the last so well, the spank being not so hard, but you still feel it smart, “Four, thank you Master.”

You moan as you feel him pry your cheeks open, his probing gaze upon your revealed shame, you hear him inhale deeply, all your cheeks burning now, as he sniffs at your arousal, teasing you with just his breath lightly blowing on your tensing desperate holes.

You hear him growl yet again and you moan, arching your back, trying to tempt him, to no success as he swiftly gets right back to managing your punishment.

This goes on smoothly for the next nine spanks, your legs a drenched mess, you’re limp and sobbing on his lap as you shakily count the thirteenth strike, he sooths the burn with gentle rubs on your behind for a few moments, letting you gather yourself together, giving you a chance to not mess this up, to your immense gratitude.

Obviously, it’s a tactic on his end to endear him to you for showing ‘mercy’ but you're too cock desperate to even think that far.

“Almost done pet, you’re doing so well,” he praises admiring the darker colour of your beaten arse with awe. “Just two more, then I’ll take good care of you Little Doe.”

Sniffling you nod bracing yourself, tears streaming down your face, yet with every hit the heat in your groin had built to an unbearable precipice, not to mention the occasional tease of him stopping to enjoy the view of the flood exiting your hot and ready cunt.

You feel ready to just mount his leg (if you could get the angle right) and rub yourself silly on him, coating him in your essence, wanting to feel his thatch of fur soaked between your thighs, marking him like a bitch in heat.

“You smell, delicious.” His voice sounds gravelly, betraying his desire for the first time.

Catching you completely off guard, his tone and words make you moan louder than before, your hips jolting as your core pulses strongly, your body trying to find any source of friction, his hand keeping your thighs from rubbing together, your pussy trying to milk the air again.

Finally, you realise your eyes had been unimpeded, for you weren’t sure how long, you had just realised the lack of tear saturated cloth when he uses a gentle claw tipped finger to your face toward him so he can watch you, his crimson eyes burning your very soul.

“Such a pretty Little Doe,” Alastor purrs his praise at you, his eyes dark, his antlers large, his smile still screaming doom at you, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when all you want is that grin peering up at you from between your thighs as you ride his face.

The loud clap and burn of the next blow has you crying out even louder the shock and power of it making your eyes close, your head straining to escape his grasp, he absorbs every facet of your reaction with rapture.

“AHHH... fo-fourteen, th-thank you... mmmaster,” you manage to stammer out, weeping from more than once place on your body.

The soft texture of his fur had been rubbing your nipples the whole time until they became hardened peaks, added to the burn of your arse and the insistent throb of your hot wet cunt, you were at the point of overwhelming sensory overload, feeling utterly deranged, in your crazed state you almost miss the final strike.

The pain zinging through your entire being, “Fif-teen, thank y-you, master,” you pant, your arse glowing like hot coals, you realise it’s over, almost feeling disappointed, but all you can focus on is the hard cock you just felt under your abdomen twitch.

He smooths his hand over the raw flesh of your arse soothing the pain, but your pussy was having none of it, throbbing even harder... more painful than your arse at this point. “Please...” You whimper, rubbing against him.

“My what a needy little slut you are Pet... I should have done this months ago.” Alastor’s radio crackle reducing to almost human sounding, made you shiver and moan again.

He sounded utterly euphoric, and you feel the flood still trailing down your thighs, you're surprised you both aren’t swimming neck deep by now with the copious amount drizzling out of you, forget the storm outside, the real storm he created himself between your legs.

Lifting your limp form gently and using his tentacles to arrange you.

You whine your body not responding to your commands as with ease he lays you on the bed, your sore bum protesting, your tail trapped under you, “Trust me my pretty Doe, with the state your beautiful little derrière is in, on the soft bedding is the best place for it right now... but fret not, you’ll soon forget it was ever sore in the first place.”

“Mas-mmm...” you try your body reaching its limit for tolerance.

He chuckles, pleased by the sight of your debauched state of utter glory, spread out before him, barely able to move.

You feel the chafing of rope wrapping around your wrists tightly dragging them together and up over your head, you look up in surprise as you see a noose tying around your wrists, you glace back at him in shock, a devilish smirk on Alastor's face.

“Wouldn’t want to make all your lies valid, and deprive you of a treatment from the gallows you so wished for now would I... after all...” his jubilant voice lowers as he crawls over your body, his clothes brushing against your skin, “apparently a rope is more desirable than my...” leaning close to your ear, licking the shell, “cock,” he enunciates making you moan and buck your hips up against him, groaning in frustration.

“Please Al-... Master...” you whine needily, sweat beading on your forehead from the stress of feeling so hollow, and swollen, your puffy pussy dark with flush, soaked and sensitive.

“Such a pretty, little pet, needy for your master’s cock Little Doe?” He holds back as you whine.

“Prove you want it, prove you need me, make me believe your repentance and I might just show you mercy” he leans closer, his weight baring down on you, pinning your body down, every inch of him pressed against you.

Your nerve endings reacting violently to the proximity as usual, even with him motionless your body feels feral with need, you want to claw at him, make him bury deep inside you so you don’t know where you begin and he ends, you want his cock so badly it hurts, nothing else matters in this moment.

You, however, can’t even react, you don’t know how, with your hands bound, your body pinned, and in this utter state of overwhelm, completely at his mercy, thoroughly insensible from his continued assault on your senses.

“Please... Please... Master...” You whine, keening as you feel the tips of his fingers gliding through your soaked pussy in reward, moaning, your eyes rolling as he finally touches you, the pleasure making you buck your hips to demand he rubs you harder.

“What would you do for me? To have my cock... to make you cum? What would you do...?”

You miss the warning signs, drunk on his scent and touch, all instincts making you arch into him, your hands tugging on the restraints, burning your wrists on the harsh rope.

Alastor’s smile is almost deranged as he awaits your predictable response knowing how much he’s gotten to you, knowing everything he desires is moments from his grasp.

“Anything, please, just anything, please Alastor, I’ll do anything, just take me, take me now...” You thrash about.

“Then give me your soul... or I shall leave you here tied up; I won’t lay another finger on you again if you don’t, I promise, but if you do give me what I want, I’ll make sure you cum so much, you won’t remember your own name.” his fingers rubbing circles on your aching clit as he says this to drive you further into the depths of your depraved state, finally giving you a balm to satiate, tease and further distract.

“Yes, yes, yes, please, just please.” The words barely register as you beg, moaning, tugging at the harsh restraint again, feeling as though you may die again if he leaves you like this now.

One of your hands is magically released and you quickly grasp at his outstretched hand now he's sat up straddling you, your wetness coating his fingers as your hand clings to them, he leads the action himself shaking your hand and there's a burst of green that you pay no mind to, the static that seems to fill your very blood gets ignored too as you try to cling to his collar next, trying to drag him back down onto you.

“Ah, ah, pet,” Alastor says, feeling the weight of the bond settle in his chest cavity, almost singing with glee.

Alastor rebinds your hand with a wave of his and the reappearance of a tentacle to enact his will, before getting up as you shout in protest.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head now Dear,” he taunts slightly as he uses his magic to swiftly divest the rest of his own clothes, you get a glimpse of wet thigh and his heavy bobbing cock before your vision is obscured again.

Whining turns to moaning as you feel his knee pushing between your legs, spreading you even wider, your head rising from the pillow trying to predict his actions again, your nose still full of woodsmoke, iron, musk and now your own arousal from the copious amount staining the bed.

The darkness consumes you as your vocal pitch gets even higher when you suddenly feel a tongue glide from perineum to clit, your entire body convulsing, your hot wet cunt pulsing, bucking your hips seeking more, your toes curling in effort.

He groans in pleasure at your taste, hip hips rutting forward instinctively.

“Fuck..” You cry out, your pussy reacting to the tongue with eagerness, that even the brief parting makes you sob.

“Language darling, no need to be vulgar,” his voice sending shockwaves through your core as he's so close he causes vibrations with his static to course through you, your body jolting with tiny electric shocks making you seep directly onto his waiting tongue.

“Please, I- ngh.. Need you,” you’re a whining mess, thrashing your head side to side, trying to dislodge the blindfold.

He ignores your plea and buries himself face first ravenously, licking and sucking every drop of ambrosia straight from the source of your unending well of lust and need, you can’t stop moaning, your legs over his shoulders as he feasts on you.

You tug harder on the ropes, wanting to bury your fingers in his hair, tug on his ears, anything, you just want to touch him so badly as your sopping cunt gets eaten like the most delicious desert feeling it pulse around his delving tongue, a spring coils tightly in your lower belly.

He moans at your taste, his cock leaking onto the sheets below him.

You cry out as he withdraws, tears falling into the blindfold again, you know why he’s tormenting you so, but you can’t take anymore.

“PLEASE!”

You feel the bed shifting, and the blissful slide of his skin against yours, dragging himself up against your nipples, licking one wetly on his ascent, his hot breath before it envelops your mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue with a moan, feeling utterly blessed.

With one smooth hard thrust and a howling cry from you he's fully seated within you.

His hands push the backs of your thighs wide open, spreading you out for his desired position, your hips buck desperately for more.

Your walls compressing him as his thick hard cock stretches your clenching cunt wide, your body already feeling like it’s about to burst, absolutely burning within, every sensation heightened by your state of visual obscuration as you feel every millimetre of his cock wedged deep within you, your cunt helplessly fluttering around him already greedily trying to claim its prize.

The feel of his mouth smiling against yours as he plunders it, a frenzy of teeth and tongue, as he snaps his hips flush with yours causing an exquisite jolt within you as you cry out in ecstasy, the taste of him and your essence in your mouth as your body yields to his without opposition.

The flex of his stomach flush with yours as his hips roll in for another punishing thrust that has you throwing your head back and crying out to the heavens in rapturous relief your pussy clenching hard already as you squirt onto his busy pelvis, his thatch of fur soaking through, he groans picking up speed and force, intensifying your release as your pussy contracts rhythmically, squeezing him for all it’s worth, his skin slapping yours as he doesn’t let up.

He growls through gritted teeth, biting his tongue to keep him from spilling deep within you already, the feel of your pleasure almost too much for him.

“Just look at you, you were such a sassy little thing, and now...” Alastor grunts with effort, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, as your pussy spasms and squirts once more with a stuttered cry for you as he eases you through it again with his toiling cock.

Your body convulsing as the rope burns your wrists from the effort. Alastor’s hands moving from your thighs to your hips for better control and power to his demanding thrusts. Your loud moans never ceasing.

His skin and fur is soaked with your early release, “... Well now, you are a work of art... So weak, so pathetic, so mine... My dear you’ve never looked more glorious.” His hips not once slowing their pace as he delves deeply, his cock hitting places inside you that you never knew existed.

His cock exploring your blazing channel as your cunt spasms, burning at the stretch of being so filled by such an impressive being, with every inch of his large hungry cock that fills you, you feel as though nothing could make your body return to its state before the fucking of your entire lifetime... or death, the bed creaking ominously as he pounds away at you making sure you get thoroughly addicted to him.

Every pulse, every drag, every whine, and groan, a blur of pleasure, pain and desperation.

You plead with him as his hands glide all over your vulnerable exposure, memorising your curves, palming your round breasts, tweaking at the darkened peaks of your sensitive mounds.

“FUCK!” You cry out as you feel something not his finger begin to stimulate your clit while he ruts fiercely away at you.

Completely blind you’ve no idea what it is that has latched onto your swollen clit, only that your trembling legs begin to tense once more already, he withdraws his mouth leaving yours free for his audio entertainment and enthral him you did with every exquisite gasp and moan.

Blinded literally and figuratively with the pleasure making your brain short circuit at his bruising pace as he nibbles at your neck, your whole body arching as you cry out and convulse once more.

The wet slapping of drenched skin ceaseless, the burning of your wrists ignored over the burning throbbing of your cunt, your legs aching as you try to keep them raised and spread needing him deeper and deeper, wanting nothing more than to be filled to the brim by him, and never let him out.

Each beat of his cock stretching your channel in every direction, hitting your cervix with agonised pleasure as he makes sure to go balls deep with every thrust, feeling as though your very guts are being rearranged.

Alastor concentrates on making sure every inch of him is imprinted deep inside of you, desiring to be unforgettable, moaning as well as he feels the saturated warmth of you clutching at him, trying to drag him back in as he tries to thrust.

Desperately your arms tugs relentlessly, trying to find purchase on him needing to hold on to anything, any part of him... He denies you however and you sob as the ropes do more damage, but the overwhelming pleasure overrides all sense of self preservation as your squirting pulsing pussy gets ruined.

You feel another pair of hands supporting your legs startling you as his hands hadn’t stopped fondling you, exploring every inch of your body, they felt colder than his hands but no less substantial, you realise it’s his shadow when it feels like it’s pressed under your tail too.

You can’t think about it though as with a growl his teeth clamp down on the side of your neck and he sucks a bruise into your flesh teeth pricking your skin, you moan once more, the new sensation adding to the invasion of your senses.

“Scream for me Dear, relief is earned not given my Little Doe... scream for me,” With a sharp twist on your nipple, his thrusts bullying your stomach internally with every throb and rub and twitch, the sucking sensation on your clit increases to a painful capacity.

You break.

Screaming his name “ALASTOR!” you wail through your third release absolutely bathing him in your squirt, his cock making shluck sounds with every thrust as he finally gives in to his own release.

Bottoming out hard inside you once more and squeezing your tits tightly as you feel every part of him pulsing and flooding deep inside you, his hips slamming into yours, filling you to capacity, pumping every single pulse of seed inside you, making sure you take every single drop as he lifts your hips, using gravity to aid him, fucking his cum in you with his cock head, burying it firmly and making sure none escapes as he looks down at the absolute mess he’s made of you.

Alastor observes in satisfaction the blindfold still secure but drenched in tears, your skin flushed, soaked and bruised, the bite on your neck trickling warm blood down your clavicle, your legs spasm frequently from overstimulated relief, your pussy stretched wide over his still twitching cock, your wrists raw from the noose still binding them, and your entire body limp, the rapid rise and fall of your chest the only indication that you’re still conscious.

Gently he reaches to remove to blindfold, you blink against the stark change of brightness.

Eventually your eyes focus on the awe inspiring Radio Demon, his smiling look of utter smug pride as he catches his breath makes your pussy clench around him again making you whine from sensitivity, your head still quite dizzy, your body feeling heavy, it’s all you can do to not pass out.

Cooing at you, he releases your wrists from their restraints and rolling you both onto your sides he cradles you to his chest petting your hair whispering praise as he holds your wrists up for inspection, “Such a beautiful little Pet, you did so well, I’m right here, don’t you worry, I take care of what’s mine.”

There’s a green burning glow again and you feel your wrists smart once more before the pain dulls and you slump in relief against him.

Moaning as his cock shifts inside your abused hole, he chuckles and starts humming soothingly, helping you adjust and come down from your ordeal.

His own state a stark contrast to yours, he seems almost energised as he takes care of you, rubbing your back, kissing the top of your head as your legs stays slung over his waist as he slowly softens inside you, both of you dripping from your release, but you don’t have the mental faculty to be embarrassed over your particular penchant for squirting, nor his talent on seamlessly drawing it out of you.

Finally when he deems you recovered enough he scoops you up and heads to the bathroom to clean you both up, sliding gently out of your warmth making the pair of you groan, he gives you another kiss to ease you again.

The sound of his pleasure makes your heart flutter, he traverses the distance easily on his long sturdy legs, the shower already running, he steps inside the warm flow of water with you still cradled in his arms rinsing you both off as best as he can.

“Such a pretty little Doe, my perfect little pet, you felt so good wrapped around me, knew exactly how much you needed me... All this time, who knew you could be so good for me.” He seemed to narrate everything that happened, how delightfully responsive you were and how he can’t wait to see you cum for him again and again.

Your head rests on his chest still shaking from overstimulation, your pussy still sore and pulsing as he uses his tentacles to hold you and his hands to clean you, you listen to him far more than you had earlier when you’d been absconded upstairs by him, but taking no more of it in than before in your well fucked state.

Once you’re both clean he keeps you in the tentacles gentle, secure hold as he grabs towels for you both, and the sight of his little fluffy tail wagging is what caused you to sober up enough to regain your senses.

The flash of green when he had to conjure towels makes you gasp as your memory comes back to you... Your hand jumping to your chest as though to grasp at your very soul as you remember what you did.... All for the sake of sex with Alastor... Damn good sex but still... How the hell did he manage that?

Your heart races in panic as he returns to you wrapping you up so carefully to dry you, you can’t help but feel affection for him and of how tender he’s being caring for you.

He finishes drying you both, the smell of him all the more potent now your dripping squirt had been cleansed from both of your skin and fur.

He carries you back into the bedroom, tucking you into now clean, dry, soft bedding.

Getting in beside you he pulls you gently into his arms, hushing you when you attempt to speak, scratching behind your ears, making your eyelids go heavy and you almost purr.

He conjures you a glass of water and holds it steady as he helps you drink, your hands still too shaky to cope.

“We’ll talk about it all tomorrow.” Alastor says softly intuitively knowing what the look in your eyes meant, seeing the fear, doubt and questions, his smile softens, seeming almost genuine, he vanished the glass and gathers you in close, pressing another softer kiss to your lips, utterly pleased with the results of today, thankful for the storm outside as he finally got everything he wanted.

“Goodnight my perfect Little Doe.”

Your eyes drift closed, his warmth and scent addictive, comforting to your overworked muscles as he rubs your back soothingly, maybe you were wrong about the risks of being infatuated with him... But still your soul? What were you going to do now... What was he going to do with you... Would you be expected to warm his bed forever? Would he expect you to housekeep like Niffty or barkeep like Husk... There was no avoiding it... From this moment on... You belonged to him...

Forever Bound.

A/N: I only edited this once rather than my usual 4 times, so if there's alot of errors or issues let me know 💜

[s3cr3tjuic3]

GHOST AGERE HEADCANONS BC MY FRIEND GOT ME HYPERFIXATING AGAIN LOL (attempt 4? maybe?)

this is random/out of order and purely just my projections and based on my friend's headcanons

if you find this sky-why then hii :3

AETHER:

regressor all the way‼️

all the ghouls and ghoulettes know abt his regression and they adore him while little but mountain is his main caregiver

a fair amount of his regression is vent regression bc he has so much responsibility

HUGE CUDDLEBUG WITH EVERYONE

he's a horror baby, cant convince me otherwise (dont ask me abt fav movies lol, ive only watched scream lol)

cowbell and zephyr occasionally babysit aether when mountain is busy

MOUNTAIN:

cg/babysitter! is always up for babysitting any of the ghouls or ghoulettes but is mainly a cg for aether and cumulus

despite seeming really stone faced and reclusive but he's actually a major softie, especially the ghouls/ghoulettes he has a stronger connection to

a very laid-back cg/babysitter, he tries not to have too many rules but some of the ghouls/ghoulettes act feral swiss and aurora

a lot of the ghouls/ghoulettez have a great sense of trust in mountain, which is why he babysits a lot of the other regressor ghouls and ghoulettes. a lot of them just feel safe in his presence l

he's really good with sensory seeking and sensory avoidances so he's always able to help out

CUMULUS:

shes a flip! but with a big regressor lean <3 she also occasionally babysits any other ghouls or ghoulettes and sometimes babysits aether but a lot of the time, cumulus and aether regress together

shes a very active cg! she loves playing pretend with littles and adding to their crazy storylines when playing

she occasionally babysits aurora and swiss when they want/need it

shes a very active little! she LOOOVES baking with mountain!

she also loves watching horror movies with aether and mountain!

and she loves arts and crafts! she always tries to get the other ghouls and ghoulettes to join her and set up an arts and crafts day! (it always works)

AURORA:

also a regressor! she doesnt want a cg but she doesnt mind being watched over every once in a while when she feels a little too young to be by herself. and that is usually the ghoulette sunshine

she loves loves LOVES playing pranks on the older ghouls and ghoulettes and just being mischievous in general

she also loves dressing up when shes regressed! her little wardrobe ranges anywhere from vintage gothic dressed to bright flowery sundresses!

also you cant tell me that sunshine hasnt also bought her a few tiaras to go with her dresses

she also loves to be carried around! bridal style? yes! piggyback rides! of course!

her favorite person to play with when regressed is swiss (especially when theyre both little, then everyone has a problem™ on their hand /j)

(saved my fav for last lol)

SWISS:

swiss is also a flip! he mostly has a cg lean tho

when swiss is little, he's s like a metronome. either he's chaos reincarnate or he's the sweetest little angel. there is no in-between and there is no indication. the ghouls/ghoulettes just have to guess.

when swiss is chaos reincarnate, he's often found with aurora causing chaos and pulling pranks! or he's just running up and down the halls of the ministry until he falls to the floor in exhaustion and one of the ghouls/ghoulettes has to drag him to his room for a nap.

when he's not causing chaos and problems for everyone in the ministry, he'll usually ask cumulus to read/tell him stories while he cuddles with his plushies (or whichever ghoul/ghoulette he can get his hands on within the first thirty seconds of cumulus agreeing to read to him)

he also have a deep love for plushies! you want the key to his heart? get him a plushie.

swiss is mainly rain's cg tho he doesnt mind looking after any other ghouls/ghoulettes, especially aurora and cumulus <3

despite how swiss acts on stage, he's a pretty mellow cg with few but strict rules.

whatever his little wants to do, he's gonna help with! is he kinda bad at arts and crafts? maybe. does rain loooive arts and crafts with cumulus? of course! does that mean when he participates.in arts in crafts that rain's and cumulus's crafts look better than his? also yeah,,

swiss is also just a very gentle cg. he always encourages and reassures any little he looks after. he also carries around a little purse with stuff for his littles like band aids and fidgets

while a lot of ghouls/ghoulettes go to aether with their problems or even sometimes mountain, if they feel that they just arent up to talking to those two yet, swiss always makes sure his room is open to impromptu sleepovers and cuddle sessions!

[spacebookettes]

The Boy with No Witch

The boy had found another. Another who also had a book of old wife recipes.

Herbs and their combinations were the recipes of this other book. The boy’s book and his companion's book made an interesting bleu. On the menu, was not always to the new companions taste. The rats who hung out around the bins, in the back garden, were getting big and dark; some with redeyes.

The companions decided the old recipes could do with updating. They hoped the bins would have less to eat. The boy learned about wild roots, yummy barks and how to prepare flower buds. His companion learned about Spotted Dick and a proper Shepherd Pie. The cats who hung around with the rats got bigger and darker; some had orange eyes.

In the back of the companion’s old wife recipes was a list of herb growing tips. The strangest herbs they were growing in their back garden, grew large and darkened the light in the back room. Little orange flowers and a strong fragrance the companions loved to inhale.

The yellow caterpillars in the back garden had red eyes. Little chuckles of caterpillar jokes, could be heard, getting bigger and darker.

Butterflies of the most technicoloured hues. News of unusual butterflies brought officials to the neighbourhood.

A parrot fell from it’s perch. It’s last words. “Hello Hello"

The End

By Peter Stringer

The Other Fair Lady

Another Lady of the cyber fair ground. The fair mistress. An ancient Lady. An ancient droid Lady. Droid Lady hovered around the cyber fair. Her cyber fair. This Droid Lady had glittering thinking, no longer grey. Droid Lady kept an eye sensor on the fair people; She had eight of them. Droid Lady had a secret. Droid Lady was an expert thief. Little gadgets and gizmos. Charms and shiny objects. Personal items and bits of clothing. Seed tools and micro spaceships. She owned a dark void chest. Millions of objects over billions of years. She kept an account of every one of them. Ancient relics. Distant antiques. Alien war items. In fact aliens went to war over some of the items. All through history an expert Droid Lady had been.

Some called her steal mouse and void fly, little people, gnome angel, secret eel, couch hog, galactic weasel, air git, snapping atom, sneak nut, cyber sampler, fairy, amoral ink-ling.

Droid Lady had a twin sister, also a void thief.

The End

By Peter Stringer

Artist Terror

An alien artist of the Terroracts movement. Created dark brooding emotions. They kept them in a crystal holo sphere. A deep black ball with little neon flashes of moments. You could peruse the holosphere gallery... and when the flashes of neon met your subconscious’ approval; gaze into the dark ball and feel the thoughts of some other people. Multiple thoughts, different people. Momentarily take on their personalities. Fleetingly understand the mind of some stranger, an alien stranger: your neighbour... and sometimes laser queens of the quantum armies. Mixed emotions. Space contradictions. Cyber death thoughts. Happy memories also. Ice cream favourites. First time dragon riding. Event horizon love.

The End

By Peter Stringer

20s Cat

 

His first morning in the new place and they hear a scratching. It had taken the best part of their early twenties to scrimp and save for their perfect home. A small Victorian out building at the edges of some large town house’s land. It has a driveway of it’s own, still cobble stones. It’s  actually a collection of old disused red bricked buildings, with just enough room for some glazed high tech extension at the back: but for now it’s a dusty summery leaky emptiness, that will do.

The first morning and the large industrial doors can be opened to let in the sunlight and in walks a healthy looking black cat. It sits next to them. They try to reach for a petting, the cat has none of it.

Over the years as the high tech extension is built and the dust is evacuated from the corners, the old collection of workers buildings has become a very tasteful bright ex-industrial space. The cat stayed.

Over the years they had bought all manner of fun objects, cats scratching posts, boxes and perching places: but the cat had still not allowed the human to pet it. She always sat out of reach. She played with the feathery jingling distractions, ate only the slightly posher cat food and lounged around in the sunny spots of the modernised old world.

They were doting on the cat. She turned into an extreme vandal when they went out. So they stayed in.

On his thirtieth birthday the cat died in a lightly whitewashed corner, peacefully.

 They finally got to pet the cat.

The end

By Peter Stringer

Robot Law

No robot can be stronger than the most normal of humans. Well not the dumb ones. The dumb robots must be kept dumb... they can be strong. But the smart one’s, the ones with grey human intelligence must be kept normal. Of course the flying one’s will need to be intelligent. But the delivery ones dumbos.

All robots must have a circuit breaking off switch.

The other usual robot laws about never hurting humans and never letting humans be hurt through inaction.

What about the security droids. They need to be intelligent obviously. And they can’t have an off switch, hmmmmm

Medical robots. Must be kept from the mainframe, un-hackable. But what about the remotely actionable ones.

A.i. must have intelligence. What comes with intact intelligence, sensory equipment; touch, sight, smell, balance, sound, independence... schadenfreude.

Robot law on threat of disintegration.

Robot rights?

The End

By Peter Stringer

That 70s Universe

 

Sci-fi isn’t quite haunted like it was in the 70s. The 1970s. It also hasn’t the brightly coloured spaceships. The clashing colored spaceships with extrovert protrusions. The spaceships don’t psychedelically burst out/forth like they once did. Sci-fi is nasty sometimes now.

Sleazy characters not so much though.

I have a memory of some 70s or perhaps 60s retro futurist car being driven by a woman. She looked so cool and the movie felt haunted. I have no idea of its plot or name. I only remember the cool car and cool woman.

In the future people will live to 300 and babies will be grown for them, selected by genetic advantage... I hope they mix some randomness into this: to make it less haunted.

 

By Peter Stringer

[fluidityandgiggles]

So, Emile’s first pride

(A list inspired by Bek’s super recent Brazilian Pat during pride post)

- First things first, he was sixteen and dealing with yet not quite managed sensory processing issues. Not a fun experience, if you ask me.

- Now introducing Emile Picani, not quite passing yet, no binding (for several reasons), add all that to his anxiety and you got yourself a living breathing dysphoria bomb.

- He went with some of his friends from IGY, who insisted on taking their sweet time walking down the street all the way to the beach. So he wore headphones the whole time. And had to buy what must’ve been liters and liters of grape slushie.

- (they also found some older IGY folk and tried to get one of them to buy them beer, so I suppose not absolutely everything went wrong there...)

- He brought cards against humanity so they could play on the beach. And then forgot about it completely when someone tried to throw him in the sea.

- He stayed over at someone’s house until the next Sunday, when he had to go back to school, because the public transportation in Israel doesn’t work on Saturdays and only works half day on Fridays, so he couldn’t go home when he really wanted to.

Bonus, Emile at pride now-

- June 1st: “oh, it’s pride month? Happy gay, everybody.” *goes to hide in his room to watch the Ruby and Sapphire wedding episode three hundred times in a row*

- obsessively wears the rainbow tie dye shirts his sister bought him when she was in India on her army discharge trip

- could typically be found listening to the RENT soundtrack and crying hysterically. Which isn’t really that big a change from the rest of the year, only at pride it’s strictly I’ll Cover You.

- he just wants a boyfriend to be the Collins to his Angel okay is that really too much to ask for (no offense to Remy, of course)

- and whenever he doesn’t listen to RENT, he could constantly be heard from his room trying to sing along to Dana International and/or watching standup videos of Peot Kdoshot (translation from Hebrew, Holy Wigs; a sort of drag queen girl group in Israel who do musical comedic performances and sometimes standup).

- not the biggest fan of pride parades for many reasons, but for someone who insists on wearing at least one iteration of either the trans or gay flag every day and has so much gay shit around his apartment it sometimes hurts your eyes (and brain), he just likes saying that every day is a pride parade for him. He doesn’t need another one.

(Yo @anxious-mom I know you said to add onto your post, but... in my defense... it’s like one in the morning rn in India and I’m at that point where I can’t read properly...)

Tagging the rest of the crew just in case,

@broadwaytheanimatedseries @really-sleep-deprived-nerd @eftelpe @ierindoodles @thatgaydemigodnerd @everyoneprotector

[love-can-be-as-cold-as-grave]

Chapter 28 - To Hell and Back

[Helsinki Finland, November 17, 2014]

The memory of her eyes, twinkling with tears as she had yelled and cried before him projected onto closed lids. That tragic beauty he could and would never forget. He smiled to himself as his body began to awaken after his mind.

The tears, the screams, that was yesterday, he thought, taking a deep breath, today, today I’ll show her. There’s nothing to fear, she never had anything to fear. I’ve loved her with all of me, I’ve needed her with all of me, she made the nightmares go away too. I need her. And she’s here.

She’s back.

A happy tear slipped from his closed lids as he opened them.

The white glow of a snowy morning shone through his window, a beacon.

He turned, looking for her, but she wasn’t there. His disheveled blanket lay in her place, empty. His eyes searched the room lazily, she wasn’t in the washroom at the other end. Getting up he pulled on a pair of dark plaid pajama bottoms found lying on the ground, and set out to find her, unworried.

He crept over to the studio across the hall, but it was still, stagnant, empty; she wasn’t there either.

[Music Recommendation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GWnbktgrD-k ]

“Liv!” He called, his deep voice echoing off the stone walls of the tower. Only silence followed.

He dipped back into his room, pulling a black sweater off the floor and pulling it on before making his way up the winding stairs to the roof, where long ago they had sat in the warmth of the sun, enveloped by the harmony of fall acoustics.

All that he found was a layer of undisturbed snow which trickled down through the hatch door, melting on the floor.

Ville’s heart began beating faster, the type of heartbeat you can feel, really feel, as if the rhythm were a jackhammer on your chest. She must just be in the kitchen, or the backyard having a smoke.

He descended the stairs two at a time in a partial rush. Worry beginning to set in.The living room was empty, as was the kitchen. No coffee mug or opened newspaper, no indicators that she had sat or had breakfast. His heart dropped.

“Liv!” He yelled again. His rapid succession of breaths echoing in the empty house was the only reply as panic began to set in.

No.

She didn’t.

He rushed to the sliding door that led to the backyard, a puddle of melted snow in front of it. He slid it open violently, stepping out into the snow with bare feet searching, searching for her.

“Liv!”

Suddenly something sharp cut into the bare sole of his foot, and his eyes sprang down, locking onto the pile of broken glass and frames. He’d thrown them out a long time ago in an angry drunken fit. Tearing the pictures off his wall, violently throwing them down on the kitchen floor, watching with angry delight as the glass shattered. He’d bought them to torture himself with her art, but that night he’d found her letter. Crumpled, taped together, the writing barely legible from being handled too much. He’d thought he’d lost it.

The pile was uncovered by snow, spread out, not as he had left it.

She’d seen.

“Fuck” He yelled, face turning red, arms clenching with frustration.

No, no she didn’t do it. She didn’t do this to me again.

He sucked in short breaths, body shaking with uncontrolled anger, fingertips numbing.

Suddenly in one quick motion his fist collided with the thick glass of the sliding door, cracking a hole into it and slicing open the skin on his knuckles.

Ignoring the glass strewn everywhere, the cut on his foot, the stream of blood flowing from his knuckles, he stormed inside. Finding his cell phone in the kitchen he dialed her number, blood leaking onto the screen.

He pulled off his sweater, wrapping it around his hand as he waited impatiently for her to pick up.

But she didn’t.

The phone rang until it went to voicemail.

“How dare you! How dare you do this to me again! Leave without a word. Did what I said yesterday mean nothing? Don’t you fuckin understand Liv! I love you, despite everything you may dislike about yourself, despite the troubles we’ve had, despite everything, I love you!” He began heaving with sobs as his anger turned to grief. “We aren’t the same! We've learned haven't we? I thought we did but it looks like I was wrong!” He held the phone away from himself  as his body convulsed in tears, no words able to escape. Briefly gathering himself between heaves he continued. “I forgave you once Liv, I forgave you because it was both of our faults, I forgave you cause in spite of it all I don’t want to lose you but I can’t take it anymore! The least you could have done was said goodbye…” His voice died off as he calmed down, silence over the line as he struggled for words. “bye” he whispered before hanging up.

He slid down the counter onto the floor of the kitchen, trembling. Over the past year he'd yearned for some sort of closure, in any form, something, anything to grasp at, to cling on to in the moments he felt like he was falling, but this, he'd never imagined it like this. He brought his knees up to his chest, curling himself in a ball, this relationship, he thought, it died as it had lived, with passion, tears, and anger.

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

[March 1st, 2017, Los Angeles, US]

[Music recommendation:   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=16ptWIZ36F4  ]

Liv slung her beach bag over her shoulder, hip checked the car door, and strolled towards the boardwalk, camera hanging from her neck.

She closed her eyes enjoying the weak sun warming her face as the wind billowed around her, enveloping her in the aromas of the ocean. The roar of waves and wind in the palm trees creating a background hum as children laughed, families chatted, and rap music blasted from nearby speakers.

It had been a long time since she'd had a day off, a day completely to herself, and so Liv had driven down from her small apartment in LA to Venice Beach to bask in the sensory overload of the bustling spot, enjoying the happy chaos around her for it gave her mind respite from the never-ending stream of work thoughts.

It only took her a few steps before the lens cap slipped into her bag and the camera was held in her hands, documenting the beauty of the urban scenery all around. She drifted along with the crowds, taking shots of the colorful characters before finally kicking off her sandals and making her way through the warm sand towards the ocean.

Finally, Liv sighed as the ocean winds blew her hair around her face. She pulled out a blanket from her beach bag and laid it out on the sand. She flicked the sunglasses from atop her head over her eyes, digging her bare feet in to the beach until she felt the cool wet sand beneath, and tucked her arms beneath her head.

Her wavy black curls created a halo around her head, goosebumps forming beneath the lilac crocheted sweater she wore over a black maxi dress.

What should I wear tonight, I haven't really had a chance to dress up in a while.

I hope Quinton isn't too late.

Where did I put my old jacket with the buttons.

I should call dad, see if he found that part for his motorcycle he was looking for, maybe I can search online for him.

Grandpas birthday is coming up, do I have any old photos of us that I can frame and gift him.

Her thoughts wandered with ease, but it wasn't long before the moment of tranquility was interrupted by the notes of a familiar tune, Wolf Moon. Liv flipped on her stomach, grumbling to herself, should have left this damn thing at home. She answered it, staring towards the boardwalk, admiring the colors of the passersbys.

"Hello?"

"Liv, it's John." Came the familiar gruff voice of her former mentor, she could hear the smile on his lips over the line.

Laughing she sat up, crossing her legs beneath her, "John! How have you been? I didn't recognize the number."

"Calling off of my office phone for once. Honestly this space gets very little use." Liv smiled, she knew the feeling, she herself barely stepped foot in her home office these days. "But anyways I called to ask a bit of a favor."

It has been a while since Liv had actually had the time to work with John. These days it felt like she was being pulled in all directions with work, and she loved it, she loved every second of the frenzied running around because it meant everyday she was fulfilling her dream. A short tour here, a festival there, an interview, an award show. Where the music was, so was she, tucked behind her lens documenting the moments that fans adored and magazines coveted.

She raised her brow, it was odd that John needed a favor from her, as if she could do something he couldn't. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to tame it as the wind picked up, "Go on."

He sighed on the other end, sensing her amused hesitation. "Well, there are rumors going around the office today about a big scoop, and of course there will be a public announcement on all social media but Metal Hammer wants to be the first to touch base with them. They haven't done much press lately, and someone over with them contacted us about an idea, a photoshoot, and you could maybe even conduct the interview since you've got a personal connection with band…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Liv laughed, already imagining ways to fit whatever John wanted in to her busy schedule, I've got a gallery opening tonight I need to attend, a photoshoot tomorrow, but I've got a few days after that I can clear up. "I can probably make it work, but who exactly are you talking about John, I've made a few personal connections over the years." And it was true, of the more recent, and bigger names she could count as an acquaintance was Chelsea Wolfe, who she was introduced to after a recent show in San Francisco.

"Right, sorry. It's HIM, Ville Valo and the guys. I know you haven't worked with them in a while but I thought you could make an exception, for me if anyone. It would just be a fantastic perspective, you got your career started with them and now they're breaking up and here you are to interview them some four odd years later."

"Wait, I'm sorry what?" It was as if Johns words had been in gibberish, all of them but a single name. Ville Valo, it tumbled through her mind with it’s sharp edges but soft syllables. It would be a lie to say that name hadn't been in her mind, paired with a set of piercing green eyes since the day she had fled his tower, a scared young women too weak to revisit old wounds. Thoughts of memories long past sporadically slipping in to her mind over the years, but the cold sweat, the bottom lip gnawing, the shaking fingertips, and rapid breaths, they no longer accompanied these memories as they once had. Her hand subconsciously moved to her heart to feel the sudden increase in rhythm however. "John, are you saying HIM are breaking up?" That doesn't sound right, she thought, a breakup, that is just too inadequate a phrase.

"I am. I don't know much more than that. And this interview/photoshoot wasn't my idea, I'm just the messenger, but their manager has already had the idea run by him and he's on board."

She had a million questions, what happened, are they alright, why now, what happened to the album Ville had been working on. She opened her mouth to speak but no words seemed to come out. This was a favor to John, this was an homage to the band that started her career, this was a thank you to them and the fans. This was so much, and yet she was hesitant, not to open up old wounds, no, she'd learned to accept those wounds as a part of her, just like her visible scars from that time. I guess, she thought as she hugged her sweater closer, I, I guess… Her thoughts trailed off because there was no conclusion, there was no reason to hesitate, just a sensation in her gut like a worm wriggling out of the dirt, uncomfortable but harmless.

Shit, I haven't said anything in a while, reply Liv. "Uh John, I'm on board, I'm even picturing doing this up in Finland, maybe Lapland, wild career and wild terrain type thing, but I think I need a little time to think. Is that alright?" Her bottom lip slid between her teeth. I'll probably say yes, I just, just need time to think about it. And I thought this would be a relaxing day.

"Of course! I'll need to know by tomorrow though cause we'll need to arrange flights and accommodation and your gear and…"

Liv chuckled, shaking her head with amusement at Johns excitement, he never failed to surprise her with his passion for the business, "I know I know! Don't worry, I'll get back to you as soon as I sort some stuff out." Stuff? What's there to sort out?

"Of course. I'll talk to you tomorrow then. And uh, sorry if I was the one to break the news, you know, of the breakup and sorry to even ask this favour." She could hear the sincerity in his voice. He never really knew why she'd ended up on his doorstep that chilly day in November, but she knew he'd had his suspicions.

She lay back down on her blanket, bringing her knees up, free hand clutching her cardigan closer as the beach began to accelerate even more, bringing with them light gray clouds that threatened to block the beaming winter sun. "John it's really alright, I've been out of the loop, plus this, this gig would be fantastic, it would mean a lot to so many. I'll ring you tomorrow." She ended the call, clutching her phone to her chest as she watched the puffs of gray float by overhead.

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

She flipped open the mirror she had dug out from her small mustard colored purse. Holding it up with one hand she flipped off the cap of her red lipstick with the other, slowly and carefully swiping the rouge across her lips. Liv gave herself a once over, or at least trying to from where she sat in the front seat of her black Beatle. Lipstick, check. Purse and wallet, check. Descently put together outfit, she had put on a blazer dress with silver accenting, braless, her lean legs taking centre stage, check. Shoes, she wore simple black heels with a strap running across the ankle and a chunky heel, check. Hair, she fluffed her dark curls with her fingertips, watching as the strands moved, like a curtain pulling back to show the scar on her temple, check, I guess.

She excitedly stepped out of the car, her heels making that familiar, comforting sound on the asphalt as she locked her car and speed walked towards the small venue. Outside stood a relaxed looking bouncer, checking names on a list and letting people out for smoke breaks.

A smile streaked across Livs face as she spotted Marcus waiting for her. His caramel skin glowing in the light of the streetlamp above, his curly hair grown long at the top and cut short on the sides. He wore a dark gray sport coat over a maroon dress shirt and black pants. Liv almost laughed, it had been a long time since she'd seen him dressed up.

"So handsome!" She giggled as she opened her arms to embrace Marcus in a hug.

He hugged her before pulling back and doing a flamboyant spin, "You really like it? I've been in sweats at home with the kids so long I was afraid I'd forgotten how to dress."

Liv laughed, locking her arm around Marcus's and guiding him towards the bouncer, "How does Hanna like her new job?”

She slid her ID over to the bouncer with painted black nails, slipping it back into her purse as they were waved in to the gallery.

Marcus beamed, “She loves it. She’s worried about leaving me alone at home with the girls all the time but hey, I work from home, it’s the best option, and I would never want to hold her back. I sort of love it actually.” He chuckled, eyes alight with the joy of fatherhood.

The gallery was awash with the low murmur of contemplative patrons as they gazed upon the collection hanging from the shaded walls. Walking around the multi-room gallery were waiters in red vests, carrying glasses of red and white wine.

Marcus grabbed a glass of white and Liv a glass of red as they entered the throng of well dressed people.

“Thanks for taking me out tonight though. I love em all to death but I’v missed your stupid face.” He took a sip before turning to Liv with a toothy, sarcastic grin.

Liv rolled her eyes, “Oh yeah, no problem, I’ve missed your stupid face too.” She gently nudged him as they made their way over to the nearest wall where a single frame hung, the image within depicting an infant skull surrounded by dull roses and menacing spiders, painted with a black background and adorned within a glimmering gold frame. "Also thank Kat, she always seems to know the best openings or shows that I wouldn’t necessarily hear about. I swear, the woman is on a mission to fill me with as much LA culture as she can.”

The exhibition around them was a celebration of American artist Kevin Llewellyn. Although he'd first opened for Kats Wonderland LA gallery, his works had grown and needed more space to be appreciated. Kat had called Liv the previous week, inviting Liv in her place since she was unable to make it, something about a prayer and a date. Living in LA it had been all too easy for Liv and Kat to remain friends, a gallery opening, a new vegan restaurant, a concert, there was always something new in the city that they could enjoy together.

Liv and Marcus began meandering to the next wall, peeking over the close pressed bodies already gazing at the work of art at the heart of the otherwise naked wall. She ran her eyes over the deep shadows and brilliant highlights of the piece, her mind inevitably thinking about Johns call. Can I really just do that? See them again and act as if everything that had happened never really happened? Would I apologize? Do they know I've been asked to do this?

"Is something the matter?" Marcus asked as they began to move to the next work, sipping their wine.

Liv shrugged, "I don't think so, why do you ask?" She took another small sip of the sweet red wine, adjusting her dress so her nipple didn't make a surprise appearance.

Marcus gave a knowing smirk, "Well, you're biting your lip, so that's a dead giveaway that something is up." They turned a corner in the gallery in to a secluded room in low light, miniature charcoal sketches fixed upon each of the four walls.

Liv sighed, I'm not exactly worrying about this, just, mulling it over. She looked over at Marcus, he was waiting for her response. Knowing him he would definitely have an opinion or two. "Well, so, I got a call about a gig. HIM is breaking up and Metal Hammer wants me to do some exclusive piece on the whole thing." She shrugged, "Not sure there's any reason to say no, but I don't know, I feel weird about it." She hid her face behind her glass of wine, watching as Marcus digested what she was telling him.

He opened his mouth to speak but then shut it, as if adjusting what he had planned to say. "Of course you feel weird, you're being asked to work with your ex."

Liv thought about it for a second, fingernail tapping against the empty wine glass in her hand. "You think that's it?" He made it sound, so, so simple, but it also made a lot of sense. Sometimes amidst the memories of passion and loss she really did forget that at its core what she had had was a relationship.

"Yeah, unless you don't want to see him or are afraid of old stuff being brought up." Liv could see the remembrance in his eyes, twinkling in the lowlights of the gallery.

She pursed her lips, tuning in the hum of voices throughout the gallery, welcoming the small distraction. "I don't think that's what it is Marcus, with the uh, old stuff. I can't really explain it, I don't feel scared of him, if that makes sense. Maybe I'm a little embarrassed about how things were when I last saw him but, I don't know, I've moved on enough that I guess you're right, it's just that awkward moment you bump into your ex on the street or something, but instead of the street it's a job opportunity."

"And instead of an ex it's a Finnish sex god." Marcus smirked.

Liv shot him a look of mock annoyance before rolling her eyes. "After all these years and you're still on that eh?" She let out a small chuckle as they left the secluded room and reentered the throng of patrons admiring the larger pieces.

"Hey now, I loved the man way before you ever did, and if I'm being honest I really hope you do this gig, if not for yourself then so you can grab me some tickets for the farewell tour I'm sure they're going to have." He gave her a toothy grin as he took her empty glass from her and gave it to a waiter along with his own.

Liv tucked a loose strand of ebony behind her ear, "Yeah yeah yeah, you'll get your tickets." She eyed the crowds looking for a waiter with food, stomach way too empty for the small glass of wine she had. She didn't drink often these days and the sweet red was already being felt in the form of small tingles in her arms and a slight haze in her head.

Suddenly Marcus nudged her, pointing across the gallery. "Speaking of moving on, here comes Quinton."

Through a small crowd of well dressed attendees emerged a tall man with wavy, ear length, blonde hair. His blue eyes locked on Liv, an enigmatic smile flashing across his handsome face bellow a well groomed mustache. He wore a pair of tight fitting dark gray jeans, tucked in to them was a black, short sleeved button up shirt.

He grabbed Liv around the waste with one hand, cupping her cheek with the other, pulling her into a deep, and a little too aggressive in public, kiss. He pulled back with an audible sound, like the sound one makes on a hot day after drinking a cool glass of water. "Liv honey! I've been looking everywhere for you."

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

The moonlight streamed in through her large, glass balcony doors, casting her bedroom in shadows. She sat, back leaning against the headboard, knees raised up, feet tucked under the covers. She looked over towards the red glow of her alarm clock, 2AM. Have I really been up for that long?

"Liv baby, is something wrong?"

"Hmm?" Tangled in the blankets beside her, bare chest exposed, head leaning on one hand, eyes barely open, lay Quinton.

Her rubbed his eyes in the moonlight, "Something bothering you babe?"

She'd met Quinton a few months ago at a small shoot she'd done for Jim Somers for some new Black Craft releases. Quinton had been one of the models. He was kind, gentle mannered, a little vain, but had overall been pleasant company as they'd dated, and recently begun to see each other more seriously. He was easy, the relationship was easy, it was seamless and linear, and that’s why Liv enjoyed it.

She rubbed his arm, "Just having trouble sleeping, go back to bed." She watched as he blew her a kiss then turned around, nuzzling deeper beneath the covers.

Carefully, so as not to disturb him she got up off the bed, phone in hand, grabbing her black robe where it lay draped across a small chair. She dug through one of her purses on the floor, grabbing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and crept in the moonlight towards the balcony. The balcony door slid open with a creek, Liv turned, checking Quinton was still asleep before stepping out into the cool night, bathed in the dull night light. She closed the door behind her. She took a seat in the worn wicker chair, tucking her knees up towards her chest and hugging the robe close like a blanket around her.

She stared out at the twinkling lights of the city below then pulled out her phone. She'd been turning the idea around in her head all night and found that it was the only way for her to feel comfortable enough to accept the job offer.

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

Ville sat at the edge of a small park on a bench, bicycle on it's side next to him in the grass. A worn copy of Lord Byron's complete works dangling from his hand, index finger tucked inside, marking his place as he stared off at the breeze dancing in nearby trees, the tune of an unfamiliar song stuck in his throat. The park was completely empty aside from him. He was bundled up in a black jacket and black beanie, red scarf protecting his neck from the icy breeze. The weather in Helsinki had yet to warm as winter slowly ended, but that wouldn’t stop him as he sought mental solace away from home, in the elements.

Suddenly he felt the familiar sensation of his godforsaken phone vibrating in his pocket. "vitun tekniikka (fucking technology)" he whispered under his breath.

He almost dropped the phone as he saw the name displayed on the screen. His heart gave a small tinge of sadness. Should I throw the phone towards the frozen pond or answer it, he mused pessimistically before breaking out in a small, deep chuckle, and I thought this day couldn't get any stranger. He swiped the screen, answering the call, unsure of what he had gotten himself into. "Liv?"

"Hi, Ville?” Her voice sounds exactly as he had remembered, soft, girlish, and a little raspy. “Sorry if I'm bothering you but John, John Mcmurtrie, gave me a call earlier today about working with you guys for a piece on the uh, breakup, career conclusion whole thing."

He almost laughed, her words were coming out in a hurried jumble. He could almost imagine how her face must look on the other end, eyes wide, brows raised, teeth threatening to gnaw down on that lower lip as he’d seen her do so many times. Needless to say, he was amused. "Yes, and have you accepted?"

There was a brief pause on the other end. "Oh, you knew?"

He understood her confusion. He himself was hesitant of the idea at first. Mige had thought of it when the band had last met the previous week to decide the best course of action to announce the end of their time together. At the time he hated the idea, why dredge the pond if you know you'll only pull up a corpse, but as he'd thought about it all more and more, he couldn't deny that Livs time with the band had been special, that her talent was impressive, that she was the perfect person to tell their final story, and that that corpse he imagined wasn't there anymore, like their relationship it had lived, died, and returned to the cosmos; he had nothing to fear, he would see an old friend and colleague once again. "I did yes, it was Mige's notion and the rest of us gave the green light. Although, Liv, I will say I wasn't really expecting a call, I imagined you would get in touch with Seppo to go over ideas and the like." In the distance he heard the low rumble of thunder. He got up, dog earing the book and tossing it in his black backpack, before grabbing his bike and beginning to walk it out of the park, unwilling to bike in the rain.

He could hear the sizzle of a deep, long, drag through the line before she finally spoke, her voice soft and unsure, "I guess the thing is, I just wanted to make sure you were uh, okay with it."

Ville was taken aback. Strange, he thought, I supposed I'd been feeling the exact same way. He hadn't really been able to put his finger on it, after he'd accepted the plain fact that the past was truly the past, and that despite it all he'd missed her company in any capacity, he still had a nagging sensation within him, buried deep within some 9th circle inside of himself. Yet here she was, putting it in simple words, I imagine I'd wondered if she felt the same way, if this was something she would want to do as well. "Dar...Liv, I am if you are. The past is forgiven and forgotten on my end, this project is something I look forward to, but," he hesitated, his words faltering in his mouth, "only if you feel the same way."

Thunder rolled again in the distance, closer now.

“I uh, I do.” She spoke more confidently, more assuredly.

He wasn’t sure what to say now, his amusement from earlier fading. He hadn’t talked to her in over three years. He thought he would be bitter if he ever saw, worked, or talked to her ever again. He thought he’d yell and curse her existence for torturing him in such heartache. He thought about many things, but never had he imagined just a lukewarm reunion of sorts. “Well then I look forward to working with you.” Idiotic way to end the conversation.

The line suddenly cut out as she hung up.

He looked down at the phone in his hand, honestly stunned at the lack of emotion in the conversation between them, not quite sure what to think of the whole thing. There had been so much bubbling rage and passion that night in his tower, the last time they’d seen each other, in the throes of a burning, toxic love. We must be somewhere where that passion no longer exists, where time has done its job, where we can talk now as acquaintances without feeling the festering sting of memories in the exchange of words. He thought back to what he had been reading earlier, Don Juan, to a particular line of the epic poem that had been stuck on the tip of his tongue, the heart will break but broken live on.

[hopeymchope]

Of Souls and Sensory Input - A Kiiruma One-Shot

Link to Of Souls and Sensory Input on AOC

Link to Of Souls and Sensory Input on FF.Net

K1-B0 - or, as he was known to the humans in his life, “Keebo” - was already laying on the table in Miu Iruma's lab when he asked "By the way, what's our plan for today?"

Miu had a socket wrench in hand and was leering over the coverings on his legs. "Eh?" she asked, suddenly shaken out of her focus. "I dunno," she said. "I'm just gonna poke around in your shit for a while and see what inspires my next ingenious upgrade!"

"I see... " Keebo said back. He was suddenly much less comfortable with today's 'maintenance' efforts.

"Don't worry your pretty lil' head about it," Miu told him, returning her attention to the inlaid bolts along this legs. She went to work on detaching them as she continued, "It's not like I'm a fuckin' amateur over here. You know that whatever you get from me, it's gonna be goddamn amazing, right?"

Keebo kept his eyes focused on the ceiling as he admitted, "It's true. You've never done anything but improve my performance and usefulness."

"Damn straight," Miu muttered. She licked her lips and exhaled heavily as she began to pull his left leg's thigh coverings off.

Keebo was too distracted to care about the sound of her panting, however. Instead...

"Do you believe I have a soul?"

She'd scarcely even begun, yet Miu promptly stopped what she was doing and sat up straight. She blinked rapidly and stammered "Who-wha-what?" A second later her eyes stopped blinking and they narrowed, suddenly burning with disdain. Clenching her hands into fists, she demanded, "Who the fuck has got you thinkin' about that?!"

Keebo propped himself up on his elbows and nervously stammered, "We-well... Ko-kokichi said-"

Before he could get any farther, Miu jumped to her feet and threw her socket wrench across her lab. Keebo covered his face with one hand and cringed as it krresh-ed into the far wall. "That miserable fucking scrote!" Miu yelled. "I'm done putting up with his bullshit, you get me?!" She lifted her hands to reveal they were again balled into fists as she muttered, "I'm gonna... I-I'm gonna fuckin', gonna fuckin'... I'll tear out his testicles with a shit-with a goddamn shitting-"

"Please calm down!" Keebo shouted with one hand extended towards her. "I am less concerned with Kokichi's insults than I am with my question!

"Erk!" Miu stumbled back at his outburst. Looking at the floor, she blushed as she mumbled "I'm... I'm s-sorry." As she lifted her gaze, however, she gritted her teeth. "It's just that that lying little afterbirth pushes every button I've got."

"I... understand," Keebo told her, smiling a little. "He seems to have that affect on most of the group. And while I appreciate your urge to defend me, I really just want to hear your opinion."

Her eyes widened and began to flit back and forth wildly as Miu bit into her lower lip. "My, um... on... on what?"

Keebo seemed to exhale before he repeated, "On whether you believe I have a soul."

"OH!" Miu shouted, suddenly looking relieved. Normal coloration returned to her face, and she blew out a a breath she'd evidently been holding. Planting her feet firmly on the ground, she folded her arms. "Hrm." Miu paused before she said, "Sorry, but you're asking the wrong person."

Keebo's face fell slightly, and concerned etched its way into his expression. "Why do you feel that way?" he pressed. "I only want your opinion, after all. Who else would I ask for that?"

"No, you're getting me wrong," she insisted. "I mean you shouldn't ask me about that stuff, because I've never bought into any of that shit." She shrugged, almost as if she was apologizing for that fact. "People who talk about 'souls'... they usually believe in something." She tossed a dirty look towards the door of her lab as she added, "Probably not Kokichi, I guess. Knowin' him, he's just trying to stir shit up. I'd be surprised if that nasty-ass douche believed in anything. But most people that talk about that stuff... they do."

Miu scratched the side of her head with her right hand and walked forward, stepping up alongside the table where Keebo laid. She leaned her left hand on the table so close to his own hand that he jerked it away instinctively. Seeing his reaction, the tops of her cheeks reddened a little. "I, ah... " she began, momentarily distracted. "That is... " She closed her eyes and cleared her throat before continuing. "I don't believe in anything I can't see," she told him. "If a microscope ain't picking it up, it's not there to me."

"I see," Keebo said as he looked back up into her eyes. "Therefore, things like ghosts, angels, souls, Atua... ?"

"All bullshit," she confirmed with a sweep with her right arm. "Especially Atua. Look: Being an inventor means coming up an idea, then testing it. It means I have to follow the scientific method. I also have to understand how all the parts in what I'm gonna build interact with and affect each other in order to make 'em have the result that I want. So I'm part engineer, part scientist, all practical."

"I see," Keebo said. He smiled a bit wistfully as he concluded, "You don't think I have one, then."

Miu blanched at his suggestion. "I-I mean... no. I don't," she acknowledged, feeling a bit guilty. She put her hands on her hips and looked away from him in shame just before she clarified, "But like, it's nothing personal. I don't think I do, either."

Keebo cocked his head slightly. "Doesn't it sadden you to think that way?" he inquired. "It implies that one day, there will be nothing of you left."

Miu turned her head back to look at him again and smiled with a sudden kindness. "No, there will be," she insisted. "I'll leave my inventions, my writings - even you."

Keebo's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Me?!" he yelped.

"You've got a solid-state sextuple-protected and double-backed memory core in there," Miu said flatly. "Your memories of me — they aren't gonna go anywhere." She flashed a cocky grin and said, "Maybe that's all the eternal life a girl needs, eh?"

Keebo's eyes seemed to quiver a bit. "Miu... I'm... glad. I'm glad I can serve that function for you."

With a grin, Miu reached out and snatched Keebo's hand in her own. From there, she crouched to bring herself closer to him. Keebo didn't turn away, but his eyes looked all over the room in panic. "M-Miu, I don't—what are you-"

"Shhh," she whispered to him, blushing slightly. "I just want you to know that as far as I'm concerned, anyone who can make their own decisions and follow their own desires is the same as anybody else. Understand?"

Keebo found himself wishing he had a swallowing functionality, because his mouth felt awfully dry. His face felt hot, too. "I... believe I do," he said. He pushed off with his right elbow so he could lean closer to her. "You mean to say that... you see me as equal to you?"

Miu closed her eyes and gave him a single nod. Opening them again, she whispered, "There's another thing, too."

Concerned, Keebo leaned his head closer. "Another thing... ?" he repeated. "I'm listening."

Miu's eyes darted away nervously. "Because I don't believe in any afterlife, I... I think that nothing we do here really matters in any cosmic, morality-play, grand-drama way. And if nothing I do in life really matters, then... " Her eyes flicked up to lock with his. "Then all that matters is what I do."

Keebo's brow furrowed in confusion. "What-"

He was cut off by the sensation of Miu's moist lips pressing up against his. It created a buzz of sensation in his mind, and it seemed as though he could feel the heat sink located within his chest rapidly getting hotter. He squeezed his left hand to hold hers more tightly, then decided to reach out with his right hand-

She broke the kiss and ripped her hand out of his, standing and turning away. "I'm... ss-sss... shit, I'm sorry," she gasped.

Keebo blinked, still attempting to process what had happened. "I... that was... "

Looking back at him, she smiled awkwardly and said, "What I meant to say was that we gotta live our lives for now, 'kay? Especially here."

Keebo's skin tone somehow looked paler than usual thanks to the bright red coloration in his face. He manage to choke out a dazed, "Okay."

Still turned away from him, Miu seemed to rub her face on her right forearm. Was she crying? "Look, we can... we, we didn't—I mean, maybe that didn't fuckin' happen, okay?" she said, chuckling nervously. "We can pretend it didn't. If ya want, I mean." Turning around to face him again, she smiled one of her usual confident smiles. Even with only 20/13 vision, though, Keebo could still see the moisture evident on her eyelashes.

Speaking carefully, Keebo posited: "What if I don't want to act like it didn't happen?"

He smiled a nervous smile at her, trying to appear confident. For her part, Miu's face shifted from her self-assured grin to something far warmer. With a sharp inhale, she softly said, "Well then, that's... " She paused to swallow, and spoke with renewed bravado as she finished, "That means we're just getting started, sweetie!"

With that, she let loose one of her gleeful cackles, causing Keebo to laugh — far more quietly, though yet no less happily — right along with her.

As their laughter died down, Keebo kept his smile up as well as he could. "So, ah... what does this ma-"

He was interrupted by Miu suddenly climbing atop the table and straddling his waist.

"Miu!" Keebo spat. "What are you doing?!"

"Living for now, obviously," she answered with a lecherous grin. "Ooh — I loooove that you're so warm."

"Wait!" Keebo pleaded. "Before you go any further, can you tell me what this means?!"

Miu leaned over and let her hands land on either side of his head with a slap. Her breasts swung low overly Keebo's chest, causing him to gasp at the sight. All the while, Miu was looking at him like he was a simplistic idiot. Quietly, she informed him that "It means I like you, ya dumbass." She smiled playfully and added. "I wanna, y'know... do things to you."

The fluid that began to bead on Keebo's face looked, for all intents and purposes, identical to sweat. He only managed to mumble, "I-I... yes... ah... "

Miu frowned a little. "Do you not wanna do things to me?" she asked, shoving her lower lip out in a pouty expression.

"I... " Keebo said again. "No, that's... yes, I mean... I'd love to share that with you," he said finally. "It's just that I'd like to know what this makes us first. I mean... does this mean we are a Romantic Pair-Bond?"

Miu smiled and blushed, looking away from his face shyly. "Oh man, you're such a cornball," she whispered affectionately. Looking back at him, she stared into his eyes and asked, "So... is that sort of 'pair-bond' something you'd want?"

Keebo stared back at her and put his hands up on her waist. "In fact, yes," he answered with sudden confidence. "Honestly, I'd rather have that kind of bond with a person before I start engaging in the... the doing of the things you were previously referring to."

Miu's eyes seemed to light up. She beamed at him as she declared, "Then call me one-half of a pair, 'cause I'm all yours, hotness!"

She leaned forward and planted another kiss on his lips — this one far more intense and passionate than the first. Keebo was shocked at the sensation, then tried to go along with it by pulling her closer and reciprocating her mouth movements with similar ones.

When she pulled away, she looked pleasantly surprised. She let out a little squeal of glee before she announced, "Not bad, Robohunk!"

"I... I attempted to learn from your own kissing style as well as from what I've observed in films and television," he confessed sheepishly.

Miu giggled a bit, but covered her mouth with one hand to stifle the impulse. "Hey, works for me!" she assured him. "But did you like it?"

"I genuinely did," he said with a smile. "And your current location astride my body is making some sort of lower sensors tingle... in a good way, I mean."

"Well shit, we gotta get those sensors firing as hard as we can!" Miu decided joyously. "Don't worry - I remember which parts always make you scream the most when I touch ‘em," she said with pride.

Keebo looked at her in confusion. "I feel both alarmed and intrigued," he said.

"Then you're right where I want you," Miu fired back. She rubbed her hands together excitedly. "Trust me: This is gonna be better than getting fully charged right after a fresh round of maintenance."

[moonymauve]

A short one-shot on the book I was writing...

          Marisol Mendoza was dying; she has been ever since she was born-- as we all have, but tonight, she knew it was her last. With the looming fear of her impending end, she decided she wanted to spend her few remaining hours somewhere else, somewhere not in her room. Upon turning on the lights of her bedside lamp and reaching for her glasses, she carefully rose from the warmth of her comforter and searched the floor for her slippers using the soles of her feet. The softness of the slip-ons was easily distinguishable from the rough surface of her hardwood floors, so quickly, she slipped it on and with a slight squeak from the bed, she stood. A jolt of pain sparked from her knees which surprised her, but it was nothing new, so she walked forwards until she reached her door.

          Quietly, she twisted the knob and pulled ever so slowly, careful not to wake Ravi, her grandson, who was sleeping in the room on the other side of the second floor. Before she closed her door from the outside, she gave a good look at the bedroom she’s been staying in for the past ten years. From what she remembered, nothing much changed; the four corners of the medium sized room was still decorated with yellow paint despite the evident chips and cracks, the large window that faced the northeast was still slightly opened to welcome the cold October air, the books on the table on the right side of the room were still stacked and disorganized, and the queen-sized bed that sat near the wall was still as lonely as ever. Nothing changed, but Marisol did.

          With a deep inhale, she slowly closed the door and turned to face the hallway before her. She already knew where she wanted to go. While using the walls to support her weight, she tredded the carpeted floors lightly-- it was so silent that all that could be heard was her breathing and the occasional tricycle that passed by. As she passed by the living room and dining area, her heart began to race.

            If I die now, Ravi would be heartbroken, she thought, but quickly dismissed the idea. No, he is not alone.

            For a second, she thought about writing a letter that explained everything-- why she left and why she knew, but the problem was she didn't know either. She didn't know if she was going to leave nor if she truly knew, all she was sure of was that something was giving her a warning, perhaps in hopes that she wouldn't be whipped when her soul found itself outside her body in the morning. What an awful thought that was, but she couldn't help but agree-- it was like the stories her elders told her when she was younger. They said that before a person dies, they would feel it, like a forewarning of sorts to not take the soul by surprise. Still, their tales nor warnings did not calm her, instead she was flabbergasted, angry even, because after all those years, the feeling was finally there.

            As she delved in the depths of her thoughts, Marisol failed to notice that she was already on her way up the spiral stairs that led to the rooftop. Sighing, she gripped the rails and swore under her breath; she shouldn't be so distracted, especially tonight. So one foot before the other, she took her time going up.

            If I were to leave tonight, I might as well not cause myself any injuries on these stairs, she thought. And she did.

            The moment she reached the top, cold air greeted her face and she inhaled the freshness.

            Of course, they would lead me here.

            The here she was pertaining to was the sight that now greeted her eyes. When she first moved to the municipality, it was clear that there was no free space for her gardening due to the roads and pavements that painted the barangay. So, to maximize the building’s full potential, she converted the once open rooftop into a greenhouse surrounded by glass panels that allowed the sunlight and moonlight to pass through depending on the day, and plants that ranged from different species were lined up gloriously on their stands. Tonight, it seemed that everything was in play-- the full moon shone brightly like the light seen after a long tunnel, the stars decorated the sky as if they were tiny cracks of the universe, the flowers graciously swayed with the wind that entered from the few open panels, and the trail of fireflies danced around in quiet celebration on their own.

            As she basked in the sight that presented itself in front of her, she meandered towards the flowers. Ever so lightly, she caressed their petals and breathed in their sweet scent. Soon, the flowers triggered memories from her, and in that moment, she felt time rewind itself to the past she once lived.

            In the white petals of the daisies, she remembered the time her daughter Amelia, Ravi’s mother, was pregnant at the age of 18. She and her lover were young, yet they chose to save the baby, but alas, fate did not allow it. Two months before her due date, Amelia had a miscarriage. She cried all week, and only stopped when Marisol bought her a pot of daisies.

            “What are these for?” She remembered her daughter asking.

            “Do you know what they symbolize?” She asked, Aderyn only shook her head in response.

            “There’s an old tale that depicted God showering the Earth with daisies; he did that to cheer up the mothers who lost their children,” she paused. “I may not be a god, but I am your mother. And I am so proud of you for trying. I’m sure, she’s up there playing in the flower fields with the other angels.”

            When she heard her mother say those words, Amelia’s heart squeezed her again, but not in pain, but in content peace that sent her crying once again.

            “I- I want to name her Daisy.”

                      “Don't worry, anak, I’ll take care of our little Daisy when I get there,” Marisol mumbled, a tear escaping her eyes.

            She turned her head from the white flowers to get rid of the tears that battled to escape, but instead, she was met with the silent bloom of chrysanthemums.

            “Leonardo…” She whispered.

            Despite her old age, she could vividly remember the day he died, she had left early in the morning due to her needing to arrive at the courthouse earlier than usual. Before she left, she placed some red chrysanthemums in the vase, and a note that only said “Your favorite, my love” and placed it on their round dining table.

            Due to her being under heavy fire in court, she failed to notice the constant vibrating of her phone inside her bag. If only she knew it was Amelia calling about the love of her life, then perhaps she would’ve left the podium and ran to his arms before he took his last breath. But alas, she arrived an hour too late. And all she had left of him was a scribble in her note that said, “You will forever be my favorite.”

            As the days she spent with her husband returned to her, the tug in her heart became a force so strong that it pulled in every being of her soul. No longer did she willed to battle the tears, instead she let it water her face. What was seen as a view worthy of the heavens, now was blurry with the cries that escaped her. Still, she did not make a sound, for if she did, the sight of her grandson might lull her to sleep.

          “I will see you in the stars, my love,” she whispered to the air that surrounded her, hoping that it may carry her wishes to the man she once was with.

            Convinced this was just a trick to riddle her mind, she decided to return to her chambers. But as she walked towards the staircase that seemed to sprout from the floor, a flower caught her eye.

            Tulips.

            And in the enclosed petals of the flower did she remember her first love, the woman who taught her the language behind the barren beauty of nature’s blossom, Hiraya.

            Hiraya has always been different, she was a daughter of one of their maids, but never did she feel inferior to others. Indeed, she was a fighter, and despite her lack of education, she knew the value of empowering those like her. And it was what caught young Marisol’s eye. Soon, they spent hours in each other’s presence, with Marisol teaching her their lessons in school, and with Hiraya sharing what she knew about nature.

            As they grew up together, they wanted to acknowledge the atmosphere that surrounded them, but before they could, a change in the country’s governing leaders altered the country forever, and Marisol was sent to her father in France. As she lavishly spent her days in the European country, Hiraya struggled to fight for their homeland’s democracy. And upon Marisol’s return, she was not greeted by the maiden with the knowledge of flowers. No, in her place was a tombstone, and a letter addressed to Marisol herself.

            She could not recall how the letter ended, but clear were the words in the beginning.

            “Was there a lifetime waiting for us in the world where I was yours?”

            As if her knees finally failed her, Marisol collapsed on the cold cement of the greenhouse. She wondered why all of her memories were clear now. But instead of staying crouched on the floor, she braved to stand up and sit on the garden set that sat in the middle of the greenhouse. Once she was seated, a gasp escaped her lips.

            She was no longer alone.

            In front of her were her soulmate carrying their unborn granddaughter, and her first love.

            “I hope you haven’t been waiting for too long.” She smiled through her tears. And as they reached their hands towards her, she gazed up at the panel-covered sky. Tomorrow would be a new day, not for her, but for the people they would be leaving in this world.

            “Let’s go home,” they said in unison. And like that of a curtain call, Marisol closed her eyes and soon, her body bowed to the flowers that surrounded her.

We were tasked to create a short story with sensory details, and because of writers’ block, I couldn’t compose anything new, so I wrote a one shot on a book I recently stopped writing, and it felt somehow refreshing. Sure, the idea wasn’t new, but having a shortened version of my story felt like I finally had a guide to follow. Also, it’s great practice to up my sensory details skills. 

[kotoriqueen]

Merry Christmas, @comic-book-reider!! I am excited to say that I am your Secret Santa from @heith-secret-santa!! 

I’ll be honest - I was pretty busy so I would have liked to finish this sooner, but it’s four days before Christmas and hey, I finished it now, so I might as well post it now! I’ll also be honest again: I had a little trouble writing a trans/autistic Keith but I had a little help and I’d like to apologize now if this is something you aren’t hoping for but I tried really, really hard! 

Anyway, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and all that. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I loved writing it!! 

Voltron; Heith; 3200+ Words. Will post to AO3 later on (if I remember).

Keith could honestly say winter was his favourite season of all.

Others would argue; winter was filled with snow and ice, requiring a lot of work to shovel and drivers being cautious and slow. Christmas music is in the air, causing headaches, as well as Christmas shopping stress making those headaches even worse. Heating bills are going high up, kids are home from school for winter break. There’s several things that would make someone argue with Keith, but there’s many reasons why Keith loves winter.

Firstly, compared to their terribly hot summer, where Keith felt uncomfortable almost all the time, Keith had no problems getting comfortable as soon as winter started. Wearing a binder was hard in the summer time, where the fabric stuck to his skin and sometimes he found it hard to breathe properly. Taking it off in public would make him feel dysphoric, especially since he couldn’t wear many layers or risk passing out from the heat. He wouldn’t take off his binder unless he was home in his apartment, and even then he felt uncomfortable not wearing it. But at least he could breathe normal, and his boyfriend wouldn’t look at him any differently if he didn’t wear it.

With that note, Keith’s pleased to know he could wear as many layers of clothes as he wanted, and no one would know if he wore his binder that day or not. The soft sweaters he had felt nice against his skin, and earmuffs blocked out the loud honking from irritated drivers when people were going to slow. And with winter, Keith had a valid excuse to stay indoors. Sometimes he felt socializing emotionally draining, and sometimes he just wanted to be alone even if his boyfriend was home. His boyfriend, the kind soul he was, seemed to understand that perfectly and waited for Keith to come to him.

The second thing he liked about winter is that he could cuddle up against Hunk all he wanted. In the summer, he and his boyfriend couldn’t cuddle as often because it was simply to hot too. Keith loves the feeling of Hunk’s strong arms around him, with one hand stroking his back and the other going through his hair. It was the most comfortable feeling in the world, especially combined with their body temperatures.

And, sure, autumn would be the perfect weather for all of this, too, but the noise of the leaves crunching loudly beneath his and other peoples feet bothered him. He couldn’t seem to get away from the noise and it would cause him to shut himself out sometimes. Whereas, with the snow, noises are softened and the snow doesn’t crunch as bad as leaves did. Pavement and streets are covered in soft snow, so even boots don’t hit the pavement; the snow just crunches softly underneath their feet. And that doesn’t bother Keith as much as the leaves.

And thirdly.. well, ever since he started living with Shiro, Christmas seemed to mean more to him. There was a big tree in the living room, and lights hung up all around the house. It’s no different in Keith’s and Hunk’s apartment. They have a tree, too; big and covered in garland, lights, and ornaments. There’s an angel atop the tree that Keith can’t seem to stop staring at. Then there’s presents under the tree, each wrapping paper different. Their friends had agreed to have a Christmas party at their apartment this year, too, which is why tons of presents are under the tree instead of just a few between the two of them.

The Christmas party starts tonight; it’s Christmas eve after all and there’s still things they need to prepare for. Keith’s nervous, he’s not going to lie about that. He’s nervous about the loud noises; music and voices both. He knows his friends will understand if he needs to shut himself in a quiet room for a while, but he still doesn’t want to spoil the party any by leaving. Besides, he and Hunk are supposed to be hosts of this Christmas party. How could he get up and leave?

But as of right now, Keith’s still curled up underneath his and Hunk’s shared quilted comforter. He’s wearing one his own long sleeved shirts, with one of Hunk’s shirts on top of it. He’s very comfortable underneath all this warmth that he just doesn’t want to get out of bed. As comfortable as he was, he was awake. His body didn’t want him to sleep anymore! With a sigh, he tries to force himself to go back to sleep, but he hears the front door open as well as jangling of keys. Followed by the crinkle of paper bags and then footsteps across the hardwood floor. They get closer, and then the bedroom door opens and Keith peeks his head out from underneath the comforter.

“Babe?” Hunk softly calls out, and there’s a wide smile on his face to see Keith awake. He walks softly to the bed and sits down on it, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Keith’s forehead. “Glad to see you’re awake, but won’t you get out of bed?”

“I’ll think about it,” Keith says at first, giving himself a second to think before shaking his head. “Nope. Staying here. It’s warm under here.”

“Keith.. Come on, I bought you a sweater for tonight. It’s soft, I promise you.”

“Will you make hot chocolate while I get ready?” Keith questions and Hunk nods as a response. “With--”

“No marshmallows and extra whipped cream,” Hunk interrupts. “I got it, babe. I’ll leave the bag on the bed.”

Hunk sets a plastic bag on the bed and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. Keith takes a moment to get out of the bed, wandering to the door where his binder hung on a hook, air drying since the night before. Hunk had washed it out for him by hand so he could be comfortable and feel clean for tonight’s party. Sometimes Keith wishes he had a second one, but they were rather pricey and even with them both working – Keith helping in the kitchen of the cafe Hunk works in – he knows he should save his money for bills and things than spend it on a second binder when he has a perfectly good one right there.

Keith decides to take a quick shower first, drying himself off before slipping on his binder and a pair of festive boxers to go underneath his jeans. He knows no one will see the Christmas light boxers he had on underneath, but he thought they were festive and hilarious looking so he decided to buy them at first glance. (Plus, he needed more boxers, no matter how stupid they looked as long as they were comfortable.)

He slips on a pair of jeans, and a belt around the loops before he digs through the bag and pulls out the sweater. It’s a soft, knitted material, and it’s rather festive, too, fitting for tonight. It’s red; neither too bright or too dark. There’s white snowflake, tree, and reindeer designs on it. On the shirt, it says ‘Ho-Ho-Ho HOMO’ in white, and the two symbols for male are interlocked underneath, the pattern repeating around the back of the sweater, as well. Keith snorts at the sweater, wondering who would make such a thing, but he loves it all the same. He slips it on over his head, realizing it’s a size or two too big for him, making the sleeves go over his hands a little, fingertips poking out from under the cuffs.

He loves it. After slipping on a pair of socks, he steps out of the room to the kitchen, where Hunk is making hot chocolate and baking cookies at the same time. Hunk notices Keith coming into the kitchen and he beams when he sees Keith wearing the sweater.

“You’re wearing it!”

“Of course I am,” Keith’s smiling wide, too, and he walks over to the counter, sitting up on a stool by the little island in the kitchen. “Where did you find this thing?”

“There was a store in the mall that had it on the clearance rack,” Hunk explains as he uses Christmas cookie cutters to cut fun shapes into the cookie dough. “It was either that size or something six times too small for you. And since you like wearing my shirts a lot..”

“I love it, Hunk. Thank you.” Keith rests his head in the palms of his hands, watching his boyfriend bake. “When is everyone coming over?”

“Not until six. So we have a while to prepare.” Hunk responds, and stops his baking to take care of the hot chocolate. He drops a few marshmallows into one mug and then puts some whipped cream in that, followed by putting tons of whipped cream in another. “Here you go.”

“Thanks. Do you need help with anything?”

“Actually,” Hunk puts some festive sprinkles over the cookies before popping them into the oven, setting the timer. “can you sit out here and then come get me when there’s five minutes left on the timer? I have some more presents to wrap.”

“I thought you got everyone something?”

“I bought a few extra things. I should be done wrapping by then.”

“Okay,” Keith leans in, pecking Hunk’s cheek. “I’ll stay here.”

“Thanks, babe.”

Hunk leaves the kitchen, gathering up a few more paper bags he left on the kitchen table and moves to the bedroom. He had bought Keith a new binder a month ago that came in yesterday, and he was thankful enough to be at home when it came. Plus, at the mall, he had bought Keith a liquid motion bubbler, which was somewhat like a lava lamp but Keith could move around. With it’s slow and rhythmic motions, it’s supposed to help autistic people with sensory issues and stay focused.

Also he may have noticed that Keith bit on his pencils a lot and his nails, so he bought him a silicone brick that was around a thin cording that he could chew on instead. He honestly hopes Keith would like these things, as well as the pack of boxers he bought him and the other clothes he purchased from the men’s section. With Shiro’s help, he was able to find things that Keith would like style wise and that would make him feel comfortable in every season, not just winter.

He knows Keith’s not a huge fan of wrapping paper, so he got decorative boxes instead. They came in different sizes, so Keith could stack them or put them inside each other if he’d like to. At least wrapping was easy for Keith’s presents, and this just meant he’d be ready for when Keith came to get him about the cookies.

“I buy too much for people..” Hunk tells himself as he wraps a set of books for Pidge before setting them in a messenger bag; thick and durable to hold many books and their laptop. He starts wrapping that, as well, and once it’s wrapped, he ties ribbon around it and sets it off to the side. “Let’s see.. that should have taken care of everyone.”

There’s a soft knock on the door and Keith peeks his head inside, “Hunk? There’s five minutes on the timer.”

“Thanks, babe,” Hunk grabs the boxes and Pidge’s gift and makes way to the tree, setting them down with the other gifts. “We have to wait for the cookies to cool off though before you can have first dibs.”

“I’ve been saving some of my hot chocolate to dip the cookies in. To soften them up.” Keith says as he walks back to the kitchen with Hunk. “But will it be cold by the time the cookies are cooled off?”

“I’ll make you another mug of hot chocolate, Keith. It’ll probably take thirty minutes before they are cooled off. We can watch something in the meantime.”

“Sounds good.”

----

The Christmas party goes off without a hitch. Everyone either shows up early or on time, some too early to help Keith and Hunk with final preparations. As soon as everyone was there and accounted for, Christmas music was played and refreshments were served. There were a few times during the night that where Keith had to leave because the noise was too much for him but each time, it was either Hunk, Shiro, or the both of them that followed after just to make sure he was alright. If it was past Keith, he would have preferred to be alone, and sometimes he still does, but having Hunk and Shiro in his life seemed to help him through the years.

Close to the end of the party, gifts were passed out. Christmas music was turned off and everyone found a seat either on a chair, the sofa, or on the ground. Things were given to Hunk and Keith, as thank you’s for hosting such a lovely party. Other presents were passed out and as everyone was talking amongst themselves, Hunk gathered the things he had gotten for Keith and gestured him to their shared bedroom, where Keith follows. Once in the bedroom, Hunk places the presents on the bed and Keith shuts the door.

“What is it?”

“Your presents,” is Hunk’s response at first, but that response is too vague and makes Keith raise an eyebrow. “I figured it’d be better if you opened your gifts in here. I know it’s a while before Christmas, but everyone else opened theirs, so..”

“You want me to open mine now.” Keith says and Hunk nods as a response. Keith glances at the decorative boxes before moving towards the bed, going to sit down on the edge. “There sure is a lot of them..”

“Of course. Is that bad? I have receipts for everything you don’t like, but this is our first Christmas together in the apartment. I wanted it to be special,” Hunk tells him, sitting down right besides him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “But I have a feeling you’ll like them all.”

Keith smiles softly at Hunk and starts from smallest to biggest. Most of the items are either sensory toys or clothing – which the latter Keith did not have enough of. His clothes are either all of the same things with either black or red or hand-me-downs from Shiro when he started living with him. Keith never complained, but he found cloth shopping to take up too much of his time and very draining. Which is why he rarely goes shopping with Hunk, and Keith prefers buying things online over going into the stores.

There were shirts, and pants, and athletic wear – so many clothes Keith feels as if it’s too much. Hunk’s the best boyfriend he could ask for; accepting and stuck with him for nearly three years, and even longer before they became boyfriends. Keith gets to his last box, the biggest one of the stack. He opens it, and there’s jogging pants and a new jacket in there, and underneath those two items is a new binder. Keith freezes when his eyes land on it. He was just thinking that he needed a new binder, and Hunk went around and got him another one. He looks up at Hunk, with wide eyes and jaw dropped. Hunk has a wide smile on his face but fades into confusion when he sees Keith’s reaction.

“Do you not like it?” Hunk questions. “You’ve been wearing the same one for a long time now. It might not be worn out because you take good care of it, but you really needed a new one, Keith, so..”

“No!” the sudden response and the raise of his tone made Hunk flinch for a moment. “No, I mean.. I love it. I love everything. You seem to have read my mind since I was thinking how I needed a new binder anyway. You’re so-- you’re so thoughtful, Hunk, and I love that so much about you. And no matter how many times I tell you that I don’t deserve you, well-- to be honest, I don’t? I really don’t, especially on holidays and birthdays because you go all out and yet, it’s so hard for me to find the perfect gifts for you..”

Keith lets out a deep breath and moves from the bed to their closet, opening the door and taking out the gift bags he had for Hunk. There were three of them; two large and a medium sized one. And compared to all the gifts Hunk got for Keith, the gifts he got for Hunk couldn’t possibly own up to what Hunk got him. Keith’s nervous, but he hands the bags over anyway and sits back down on the bed, pushing his presents off to the side. That gives Hunk enough space to open them, starting with the medium sized bag. In that bag, there’s several small things. There’s a small box, that contained a watch; beautiful and silver with a black band and a buckle for a clasp. He knows how much of a fan Hunk is of Disney, as well as the Kingdom Hearts games, and with Keith being a fan of Hot Topic, it seemed easy to find Disney merchandise for the big guy.

And you can never have enough knick-knacks, which is one of the many things Keith was looking for. They had a few empty shelves in their bedroom and living room, not the mention all the space they had on the front of their fridge. Sure, there were having a few magnets, but Hot Topic was having a good deal on their Disney magnets, so Keith had picked up quite a few of them. He grabbed Belle and Chip from Beauty and the Beast and then the two Kingdom Hearts magnets of Sora and Riku. There were a few blind bags in there; one of Mickey and friends, the other having Aladdin, Abu, King Triton, Genie, and then the animals and/or mascots from other movies, and the third blind bag is of the Disney Princesses. They’re all keychains, and he knows Hunk will find some place to put them up for show. Finally, there’s a pop figure of a Heartless from Kingdom Hearts, one of Rajah from Aladdin, and one of Mulan.

In the two larger bags, one contained a new jacket; big and bulky so Hunk can layer up underneath without feeling stiff. And the other large bag had a ‘Funcle’ shirt since Keith knows how much Hunk loves his nieces and nephews, a couple long sleeved shirts, and a cookbook. He knows Hunk has several cookbooks, as well as a container filled with recipe cards, only this one is a 365 days of cookies cookbook. Hunk snorts at the name, and even though he silently agrees he has enough recipes, he and Keith could try out some of these recipes together.

“Aw, Keith..” Hunk starts, scooting over to his boyfriend. He hugs him close, pecking kisses all over his face. “How can you say that you don’t deserve me? You’re gifts are perfect, Keith, and I love every single one, just like how I love you.”

“That’s so cheesy that we’re going to have a mice infested apartment.”

“Mm, I don’t care.” Hunk continues peppering kisses over Keith’s face, making his poor boyfriend squirm from all the attention. “As long as they don’t interrupt us.”

“Huuuunk. We have to get back to the party!”

“They’ll be fine without us,” Hunk says and then he sighs, pulling back a little before resting his forehead on Keith’s. “Merry Christmas, Keith.”

Keith smiles wide, a small laugh leaving his lips, “Merry Christmas, Hunk..”

[kpopyourcherryy]

Don’t Test Me - (M)

And of course, I can’t forget Tashee~ how does death feel love? 😘

Genre; pure, good ole s m u t 

Length; 3,600+ words

Kink(s); overstim., sensory deprivation, rope play(kinda), impact play, degradation/humiliation, boy x boy, exhibitionism, voyeurism, etc

Sitting there with HyunWoo and his friends, the six of you joke about as you all watched Kihyun and Minhyuk take their game of Overwatch just a tad too seriously; nothing but curses and rage filled screeches escaped the men as they killed enemy and died left and right. 

Wonho chuckled as he looked over you and his friend, “Hyung, you should give Overwatch a shot.” He playfully teased. “I bet you’d do great.” 

Shownu scoffed, shaking his head, “I’d rather not.” He replied, turning to you. “Babe, why don’t you play? You’re pretty good.” 

“I- I’m not that good..” You shyly added, “I’m decent at best, but I mean last time we played together you kept shooting at the wrong people- so I suppose I’m good compared to you.” 

The boys immediately broke out in a fit of laughter as your little taunt. “God, Hyung, you must be terrible then,” Changkyun added, as Hyungwon just sat back soaking in the roasts that he knew were about to come. 

“Oh, he is-” You teased as you quickly flashed your boyfriend an apologetic smile as his face seemed to turn to stone. “I’m sorry babe, but you know it’s true, your kill to death ratio was like 2 to 40.” 

Minhyuk practically fell back laughing as he paused the game, turning back towards your boyfriend, Kihyun pressed his lips together in an attempt to hold back his laughter. “Yah, Hyung, why are you bad? You watch me play all the time.” 

“That’s probably why!” Minhyuk wittily retorted in his fit of laughter, immediately shielding himself as Ki lifted his hand- playing smacking his thigh. 

You sat there, laughing along with his friends- your stomach seemed to knot up with anxiousness as you felt his eyes burn into you. As your giggles slowly dissipated you leaned back onto the couch, you rested your head on his shoulder.  Pressing his lips against the top of your head, your boyfriend moved lower, “Just wait..” He coldly whispered before pressing his lips against your head once more. 

Your body automatically reacted, blood rushed to your cheeks as inappropriate thoughts invaded your mind. 

But alas, despite his unexpected warning and your less than pure the afternoon flew by without anymore random happening, and one by one after having dinner, each of the other boys went to do their own things for the rest of the evening. 

As HyunWoo went to the bedroom, you headed over to the kitchen- perfectly prepared to spend the rest of the time cleaning up and cuddling up with your teddy bear of a boyfriend.  You stood there over the sink, washing dishes- peacefully humming to yourself when you spotted him walking over to you in your peripheral vision. 

“I thought you were going to bed, babe.” You chuckled as you scrubbed one of the plates, rinsing it in the warm running water as he moved behind you. 

“How could I?” He smoothly replied as gripped your waist from behind before reaching over; shutting off the faucet. His hands moved from your hips as he slipped black silk fabric around your eyes; blinding you.  “Babe-” You anxiously giggled, remembering his little warning from earlier. “Wha- What are you doing?” 

Your boyfriend stayed silent as he led you away from your spot, and over to what you knew to be the living room. “Babe, I’m serious wha-” You began only to be cut off as he put his over your mouth.  Goosebumps rose all over your body as you felt his warm breath brush against the nape of your neck; his lips right beside you ear, “Shut up..” He icily snarled, grabbing your wrists- pinning them behind your back as he forced you onto your knees.  

You shuddered as you heard the sound of his belt come loose, his heavy steps coming to a halt as he stopped in front of you.  The snap of his leather belt causing you to wince in response. “You know y/n...” He began, his steps starting up again as he seemed to move behind you; the cool leather gently grazing your forearm. 

“It’s one thing to joke around with my friends..” He hissed, lightly tapping your upper back with his belt. “but talking shit and trying to humiliate me in front of them is another.”  Just as you opened your mouth to defend yourself, it was almost as if he could read your mind. “Don’t..” He growled, crouching down- his fingers hooking around the waistband of your sweats, yanking them down your thighs. “I don’t want to hear your little excuses, understand little girl?” 

Immediately you nodded, “Uh huh..” You timidly muttered, the sudden sting from his belt had you letting out muffled yelps as you roughly bit down on your lip.

“Talk right little girl..” He harshly replied, “I don’t want any half-assed responses, those will get this cute little ass of yours so bruised you won’t be able to sit for a week. Under-fucking-stand?” 

“Yes..” You quickly responded, wincing as you heard him move. “Yes, Daddy I understand. I’m- I’m sorry..” 

HyunWoo chuckled at you mousy apology, sadistically running the leather along the sore flesh just to keep your anxieties high. “Mmm, I like seeing you so timid, my love..” He purred as he began looping his belt around your wrists, binding them behind your back.  As he stood, he looked over your delicate bound form, grinning to himself. “I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere.” 

You just nodded as he his hefty footsteps became faint.  God what grave did you just dig for yourself? What was he planning? Most important what toys was he about to bring out? These questions seemed to rattle your brain as you anxious knelt there, enduring the pain that started to irritate your knees while you waiting for him to come back. 

It seemed as if he were purposely taking his sweet time, just to make you regret your shit talking even more.  Suddenly you heard someone approaching, but it was different this time... it was as if multiple people were coming towards you. Your heart immediately shot down to your stomach as you heard Hyungwon’s voice. 

“Y-Y/n..” He uttered, shock coating his voice as whispers followed.  “What’s going on?” Wonho suddenly added, walking over to where you were- just as he crouched down to undo your restraints, Shownu returned. 

“No talking, little girl.” He snarled, as he gave his friend a damn near deathly glare. “Get away.” Motioning at both him and Hyungwon, “Both of you either go back to your rooms or you know what.. if you wanna stay, take a seat and shut up.” 

Your eyes widen behind your blindfold at his suggestion, “Bu- But..” You managed to timidly stutter out only to be quieted by the feeling of his dagger like gaze burning into you. 

“That’s what I thought..” Shownu snarled, scoffing as his attention turned back to his friends. “Now, are you two gonna stay or leave? Because if you’re not, go right now- I have a little brat that needs to be taught some manners and I’m not gonna put with you two wasting my time.” 

Neither of the men could believe the sin that was unraveling right there in their living room, “Hy-Hyung, what’s gotten into you?” Wonho timidly asked, unable to pry his hungry gaze off your bound form. 

Shownu smugly grinned as he noticed both of his friend eyes fixated on you. “Answer me babyboy..” He smoothly purred while brushing loose strands of hair out of your face, moving it all to one side to expose your unmarked neck. “Don’t you think she looks amazing like this? Bound and just so helpless... Don’t you wanna watch me destroy her?” 

Something came over both men, Hyungwon suddenly spoke up- you could hear his footsteps coming closer, then stopping as he plopped down on to the couch beside you.  “I do..” He sweetly purred, reaching his hand out to Wonho who seemed to melt at the perfect sight you were. “Come, sit with me, Wonho-Hyung... Let’s enjoy the show..” 

Wonho made his way over his younger friend, taking his hand as he took a seat beside him.  “Good boys...” HyunWoo cooed, flashing them a soft smile before turning his attention back to you. “Now just sit back and relax, watch me wreck my little angel..” 

Both of the men reclined back into the couch, watching as their Hyung looked down at you with nothing but pure lust and anger in his eyes. 

You practically trembled as his death stare piercing into you as you heard his footsteps start up again.  Your boyfriend circled your bound body like a starved predator would do it's prey, admiring the way the black silk blindfold complimented your rosy cheeks. As his pacing came to a halt, he crouched in front of you- brightly grinning at the things he had planned for you. 

"Don't ever test me again, little girl.." He smoothly whispered into your ear before deafening you; sliding on the noise canceling headphones he bought just for this occasion. “Mhmm,” He purred as he caressed your cheek; his soft touch causing you to wince slightly. Turning his attention to his friends, he gave them a playful smirk as he waved your vibe in the air. “Let’s watch how much my little girl can take, hm?” He chuckled, switching the toy on. “But first, how strong should it be?” 

Wonho looked over at Hyungwon; who was actively palming his hardened member through his shorts. “Uh..” He began, biting his lower lip as his eyes zeroed in on your dripping core. “High. Put it on the highest setting..” He added, “- and don’t pull it away from her until she cums at least twice.” 

HyunWoo scoffed at the younger man's suggestion, but couldn’t help approving of it either. He wanted to watch you writhe as you came, then hear you cry out as over-stimulation consumed your sensitive body. “Hmm, you’re a smart little boy aren’t you?” He rhetorically asked, turning back to you and the toy he had in hand; flipping it to it’s highest setting.

Before he even allowed it anywhere near your heat, he teased you with it. Gently running the cold metal over your clothed nipples, relishing the sweet little whines that flowed out of you as he circled them before tracing down your stomach.  “You’re gonna looks so lovely, babygirl..” He cooed, knowing the head phones prevented you from hearing anything. 

He gently began to outline your slit, grazing your clit ever so slightly as your juices coated the toy. The room slowly filling with your needy sounds as he began to concentrate the vibe on your throbbing pearl.  Your face contorted with pure pleasure while throat tearing moans escaped your open mouth, “Da- Daddy!~” You whined, stuttering as the overwhelming sensation of the toy made it hard for you to even concentrate on breathing. 

Those they couldn’t see, your eyes practically rolled back into your skull as frequent high pitched sounds escaped you. Your body trembled as the fast vibrations had quickly caused that wild flame in your core to intensify like it never had before.  You could feel your core clench as an orgasm began barrelling towards you, “I- I..” You stuttered, your sounds turning into desperate whimpers that seemed to feel more than just the living room. 

A smug grin painted across your boyfriend’s face as he listened to your sobbing noises, watching as your entire body seemed to melt and shake the closer you got to your climax. “God damn..” Hyungwon groaned, stroking his member through his sweats; his flushed with a vibrant shade of red. “She’s so fucking sexy, Hyung.. I wanna cum just watching her. 

Wonho suddenly got on his knees, swatting his friend's hand away from his manhood and replacing it with his. “Let me help you, baby..” Wonho purred, as his arousal skyrocketed.  Hooking his fingers around the waistband of Hyungwon’s sweats, quickly yanking them down to his mid-thighs. “I wanna make you cum with y/n..” 

Shownu chuckled as he watched Wonho begin to pleasure their younger friend, bobbing his head and hand down his length; creating this heavenly mix of yours and his moans.  “Fuck, she’s gonna cum soon..” Shownu warned, gritting his teeth as his own arousal grew the more he watched your body writhe at the intensity of it all. “I suggest you work that pretty mouth of yours quick, Wonho.” 

The blue hair man smirked around the tip of his friend's cock, “Be a good boy for me and cum Hyungwon..” He smoothly cooed, giving his member sweet kitten licks before taking him back into his mouth- allowing him to entire his throat every so often. 

“Holy fuck..” Hyungwon moaned, his hands running through his friends silkened hair; giving it faint tugs as his warm mouth felts like magic. “Hy- Hyung..” He whimpered, pursing his lips together as his brows furrowed; his high quickly rising the more his friend swallowed around him.  

“Mhmm..” Hoseok purred as he felt his cock twitch in his mouth, signaling his incoming climax.  Suddenly you let out a throat shredding cry while tears soaked your blindfold, streaming down your reddened face, “I can’t- I can’t hold it anymore, Daddy... I need..” You shakily whimpered, your voice trailing off as your orgasm suddenly slammed into you. 

Your body tensed as your climax wracked through you, sending you spiraling into the pitch blackness of pure ecstasy.  “Da- Daddy..” You innocently cried out as you slowly realized that he wouldn’t allow you to calmly ride out your orgasm; your boyfriend still pressing and circling your clit with the torturous toy. “Pl- Please..” 

He didn’t even bother to answer, knowing you couldn’t hear a thing anyway. Instead, he just continued his assault, watching you heavily pant as you attempted to wriggle away from the toy. Using his free hand, he tightly snaked his arm around you; keeping you in place. 

As he became concentrated on his onslaught, Hyungwon grunted as Wonho deep throated him- allowing his friend to coat his throat with his warm cum. “Fu- Fuck, fuck..” He repeatedly cursed, his head sinking back into the couch as his Hyung slowly rose from his member, flashing his a toothy grin before licking his lips. 

Wonho giggled as he tucked his friend's flaccid cock back into his pants, giving his thigh a soft pat as he returned to his seat beside him. “You came so much.” He teased the jaded man, allowing him lay across his lap. “Y/n must really turn you on..”  Hyungwon just lazily nodded in response, still coming down from his climax while continuing to enjoy the little show that was unfolding in front of them. 

“Too- too much..” You weakly mumbled, gasping for air as over-stimulation slowly took over- the sweet bliss you once felt rapidly turned into an overwhelming burning yet numb sensation that had you whimpering for freedom from it. 

Swiftly he laid you on the carpeted floor, spreading your legs nice and wide just to make sure his friends had the best view of your pretty little pussy.  A pompous grin sprawled across your boyfriends face as he moved the toy from your hypersensitive pearl to your sopping entrance. “Look at my little sluts cunt..” He proudly purred, teasing your hole with the essence coated toy. “-so fucking pretty and wet.” 

Both Shownu and Wonho seemed to groan in unison as he slowly pushed the toy inside you; intently watching as you welcomed its girth. “Fu- Fucking hell..” You hissed, biting your lower lip the deeper he pushed it in. 

Wonho couldn’t take it anymore, his arousal instantly went through the roof at the lovely sight you were. Gently he lifted Hyungwon off him and began struggling with the buttons of pants when his friend turned onto his stomach to assist him, “Let me take care of you Hyung..” He cheekily added as his long fingers quickly undid his jeans. “It’s only fair..” 

His Hyung automatically obliged, gracefully pushing down his jeans; watching Shownu fuck you with the toy as his friend’s icy hand wrapped around his length.  “Mhmm..” Wonho purred, leaning his head back into the couch, his dark gaze switching from you to his friend every moment he could.

“You enjoying yourselves?” Shownu fiendishly jeered over to his friends, not even sparing them a glance as he quickened his pace; pumping the toy into you with deep quick strokes.  Neither of the men seemed to be capable of speaking a single word and inside just nodded in unison while Hyungwon slowly began to lower his mouth onto Wonho’s thick length; drawing out his magnificent groans. 

As your boyfriend’s pace sped up, the pain from the over-stimulation soon turned into bliss once more. Your pleading cries turned into ecstasy filled moans in a split second as that sweet warmth comforted your body.  “Oh, my gosh..” You whined while practically melting against the floor. The mix of the fast vibrations and deep pumps had your mind going completely blank. “S- So good..” 

HyunWoo airily chuckled at your words or lack of words actually; after all, it just let him know what a good job he’d been doing. As he quickened his thrusts once again, more of those wonderful needy moans escaped you as he repeatedly hit your most sensitive spot while reaching over- pulling off the headphones in a quick motion, tossing them onto the couch. 

The second they were off the mixture of the loud toy, erotic slurping, and Wonho’s lewd sounds invaded your ears. “Da-Daddy..” You purred, that sweet urge building up the more you listened to the pornographic song, “I wanna cum again..”  Your heated body shivered as you felt your boyfriends icy hand creep under your shirt, pushing up your torso; exposing your bare chest and tummy. “Ahh.~” You hummed, pursing your lips together as he began pinching your sensitive nipples. 

“Such a pretty little girl.” Shownu softly said, moving his hands back down to your lower stomach. “Let’s see how much you cum this time, shall we?” Immediately Shownu ruthlessly fucked you with the toy as his free hand ran down to your flower, sweetly rubbing your throbbing pearl in relentless circles. 

Your body immediately responded, your climax seemed closer than you previously thought as he continued his assault. “Da..” You breathlessly cried out as you attempted to squirm away once again. 

“Not uh princess..” Shownu growled, his aggressive behavior instantly returned as he quickly yanked you closer to him. “Take it, babygirl..” He snarled as he returned his attention to your hypersensitive clit while deeply pushing the toy into your cunt. 

You laid there, shaking as nothing but sobbing moans escaped you, “Sh- Holy shit.” You whined as you tugged on your leather restraints. 

Wonho sat there, enjoying the show going on in front of him as Hyungwon allowed him to fuck his face, “God I’m so close..” He growled, groaning through gritted teeth as he felt his friend hollow his cheeks around him. 

“Cum with y/n then, just like your little Hyungwon did.” Shownu cheekily suggested before licking his lips as he noticed your pussy clamping down on the toy. 

Nodding, the younger man agreed while the sexiest smirk sprawled across his angelic face. “Yes- Yes, Sir...” Wonho smoothly replied as his toned body began to tense the more his climax inched closer with each thrust into Hyungwon’s warm mouth. 

Though you couldn’t see what was going on, every sound that filled the room seemed just push you closer to the edge of your euphoric doom. Your moans began to slowly turn into shallow gasps as you the sweet warmth slowly began to wash over you. “I- I..” You whimpered, “I need to cum..” 

Your boyfriend sadistically chuckled, continuing his onslaught as he watched you chest rise with each delicate breath you took. “Just hold on a little longer princess.” He cooed, knowing very well you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself for very long. 

With his hand in his hair, Wonho roughly began fucking Hyungwon’s mouth; slamming down his throat with each stroke. “Fuck, fuck, fuck..” He snarled as he viciously chased his high. “God, I’m gonna fucking cum- I’m gonna cum.” He whined, his thrust becoming sloppy. 

“Cum with your Oppa, baby.” Shownu cooed, toying with your clit.  Instantly, the coil in your core came undone as the warmth you felt turned into this near paralyzing wash of burning coolness. 

You couldn’t utter a single word as your second orgasm seemed to be more intense than the last.  Leaning over to you, Shownu swiftly pulled the blindfold off; the silk came free with ease, “Look at what you’ve done to them, princess.” He said in a hushed tone. 

Lazily you opened your eyes, wincing at the bright light at first as your eyes adjusted. Slowly, you turned over to the couch where Wonho and Hyungwon were; the instant you laid eyes on them, Wonho’s own high collided with him. “God damn..” He cursed as he shoved himself deep into his friend's throat, making sure to coat it with every last drop of his cum before allowing him up. 

Hyungwon slowly lifted himself off Wonho’s softening cock, gasping for air as it invaded his lungs. “Ahh...” He breathlessly hummed, laying himself back down on the couch. 

You laid there, wide eyed with vibrant red cheeks as you looked over the jaded men.  Shownu wickedly laughed at your shock, grinning widely while wrapping his hand behind your neck; switching off and removing the toy from you before lifting you from your spot and onto his lap. “Maybe next time..” He chillingly began as you rested your head against his muscular chest. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll let them play with you while Daddy fucks your brains out.” 

“How does that sound kitten?” 

[rhetoricandlogic]

Liz Bourke Reviews

The Outside

by Ada Hoffmann

September 20, 2019

The Outside, Ada Hoffmann (Angry Robot 978-0-85766-813-4, $12.99, 346pp, tp) May 2019.

The Outside is Ada Hoffmann’s much-anticipated debut novel. Well, much anticipated in my circles and, I have to say, the novel lives up to its buzz. (If you take nothing else away from this review, take away that it’s well worth checking out.)

In Hoffmann’s space opera universe, artificial intelligences have become Gods. These AI-Gods don’t exist independently of humans: they require humans as a form of fuel (they take in “souls” when people die), so they’re invested in the survival of humans as a group. Their power and influence are such that they outweigh any human polity, or even any combination of human polities, and they are worshipped, loved, and feared. To challenge the gods is heresy, which attracts pretty horrendous penalties, and in order to maintain their monopoly on “godhood,” there are very strict laws about what kinds of technol­ogy humans can make and have access to.

God-technology – technology that allows FTL travel, for example – can be bought, but it’s only available at a very high cost, usually in souls and service. The gods have mortal servants, as well as no-longer-quite mortal servants – “angels” – that are bound to them.

Yasira Shien is a physicist working on cutting edge (for mortal humans) technology in the form of a new reactor. She’s the last protégée of the now-disappeared, famous (or infamous) Dr. Evianna Talirr. Talirr’s work laid the foundation for Yasira’s work on this new reactor, but after the reactor fails– inexplicably, disastrously, and with a bodycount – Yasira finds herself kidnapped by angels and threatened with the punishment for heresy, unless she can help this small team of the angels of Nemesis (led by the rather unpleasant Akavi) track down her former mentor. The angels explain that Dr. Talirr is a dangerous heretic who’s eluded them for three years. They tell Yasira that Talirr has left a trail of bodies behind her.

Dr. Talirr may have accessed the one power in the universe capable of challenging the gods – the power of Outside, which drives most people who encounter it mad. (The survivors tend to be killed off by angels, as people who may pass on the contagion.) Yasira alone might be able to understand what Dr. Talirr’s doing, and to find her, but she’s not sure whether she ought to trust the angels, and she’s equally unsure about giving Talirr the benefit of the doubt. Along with guilt over not being able to stop the reactor’s failure in time to prevent any casualties, and fear for what the angels might do to her, Yasira also misses her lover, Tiv.

Torn between different loyalties and differ­ent imperatives, Yasira’s faced with a lot of deeply uncomfortable choices. That’s before her homeworld is threatened by both the in­explicable forces of Outside and whatever the angels – and the gods – might do to prevent Outside spreading.

The Outside‘s worldbuilding reminds me a little bit of Max Gladstone’s work – both in the religious language of its high technol­ogy, which brings Gladstone’s Empress of Forever to mind, in its casting of human “souls” as god-fuel, and in its layers of worldbuilding, which recol­lects Gladstone’s Craft novels. It shares some approaches with Charles Stross’s early science fiction and a little bit of Elizabeth Bear’s. And, of course, the whole idea of the Outside brings Lovecraft and his reinventors into the frame – The Outside feels like a very engaged and interesting argument in some places.

There’s a whole lot of cool shit in this novel, and Hoffmann brings it together very well indeed, but beyond the worldbuilding and the weirdness, the characters stand out for me. I particularly enjoyed Yasira’s relationship with Tiv and how it influences her emotional register throughout the novel. I also enjoyed how Yasira’s autism is treated matter-of-factly by the narrative: her sensory issues sometimes complicate her interactions with the world, but they don’t prevent her from acting. Dr. Evianna Talirr is also shown as having issues akin to Yasira’s, but different. It’s not that differ­ence that means Talirr makes different choices to Yasira when faced with moral quandaries, but her history and her experience – the experience of being an outsider from her earliest youth. (It’s easy to dislike Talirr. It’s also easy to empathise with her.)

The narrative ramps up the suspense all the way to the climax. It’s a strikingly effective one, full of high stakes and high emotions, with a satisfying conclusion and room for more stories to come.

Compellingly written, tense, and thrilling, with fascinating (and weird) worldbuilding and brilliant characters, The Outside is a fantastic debut. I can’t wait to see what Hoffmann does next.

[dippedanddripped]

It was back in early March when Jerry Lorenzo and Alessandro Sartori presented their Zegna x Fear of God collaboration at Paris Fashion Week, setting the stage for one of the most curious fashion collisions in recent memory. The clothing itself did not disappoint, delivering a sensibility that somehow bridges the sartorial gap between Skepta and Don Draper. Who says a polo neck shouldn’t be bulbous with a zip? Or a tracksuit can’t be made of luxurious silk? Together, they want to blow open the menswear conversation, bringing into being a hypermodern way of comfortable dressing that cherry-picks the best bits of luxury and chic sportswear. Think of it like bodega-core for when the bodega has an exclusive dress code policy.

The Los Angeles streetwear dynamo and Milanese tailoring savant might ostensibly make for odd bedfellows, but theirs is a relationship built on mutual admiration. The dynamic isn’t so much a case of the student and teacher; rather, it’s totally egalitarian, with Lorenzo’s intuitive knowing of what young guys want to wear just as important as Sartori’s unrivaled technical expertise. In other words, they’re both reading from the same script. “I think that the difference [between Fear of God and Zegna] is obvious on an aesthetic level from far away,” Lorenzo previously explained to us. “But the souls of the brands are the same. And when we sat together, we knew that immediately, and we also had a desire to create a new language that would require the best of both worlds.”

Keen to find out where the pair were currently at given the events of recent months, we caught up with them over Zoom.

Let’s start from the beginning. What attracted you guys to working together?

Jerry Lorenzo: I’ve been a fan of Zegna for a long time. The first luxury suit to ever live in my household was a Zegna suit that my dad bought back in the ’90s. Alessandro being the head of the house made the opportunity even more exciting to me. I wanted to not only learn from the 110-year-old-plus house, but also learn from Alessandro, whom I really look up to, and whose aesthetic I’ve been a fan of for a long time. Usually, you don’t want to meet people in fashion, because they’re never what you hope them to be, but Alessandro just gets better with time.

Alessandro Sartori : We come across as very polite, but we are honest in what we say. It all started when a mutual friend asked, “Do you want to organize a coffee with this designer?” I remember seeing Jerry’s work first on the web and then in a very beautiful store in Tokyo. I was attracted by the chicness of the clothing, because what he does is not only has to do with his aesthetic and his feel, but he also has a timeless grammar. After a year or less, we talked about doing something because we shared so many values and ideas. The idea was to combine chic American sportswear with the timeless aesthetic of an Italian house.

Two opposites on the same page.

AS: I haven’t told you this, Jerry, but one of the best comments I got a couple of weeks ago was from an Italian retailer. He said to me, “You know what I adored about the picture and the video I saw? It didn’t feel like it was in Paris or of the time.” And I said, “Well, I never thought about that.”

JL: It’s exactly what we were hoping for — we wanted to land somewhere that was informed by the things we loved of the past, but spoke to something new; a new day, a new decade. Creating something that defines the early ’20s. I feel that’s the best possible comment that we can get. They’re seeing something that they hadn’t seen before.

Henry Ruggeri

Your presentation in March feels like a lifetime ago! How did that go?

AS: Jerry wanted to create something that looked like an art installation. A retrospective on this collection 10 years from now. We created a fantastic environment where there was no sense of time.

JL: That’s exactly what it was. We are trying to establish this new wardrobe for the modern man; the foundation and the principles of it are classic and timelessness. So maintaining that theme throughout all the communication, all the feelings, all the emotions from the setup, again, to the music that was played, to the location that Ali found, it really spoke to all of the different nuances that I believe Alessandro and myself poured into the project.

I feel that the runway and re-see still serves a purpose with a collection like this. To allow people to get really get up close with the fabrics and craftsmanship. Jerry, you’ve never done a runway show, and Alessandro, you just announced an online show for Zegna. But how do you compensate for that lack of physical interaction?

AS: I think the normal shows as we know needed a refresh anyhow. That’s one of the reasons why, when we decided to go with the presentation in Paris, we didn’t think about spending more or less money. We wanted to have the best effect for that collection according to what we wanted to achieve and tell. The place, the collection, the music, the light, the production, all at once conveyed the full idea of what we wanted. It felt timeless.

We decided to do a combination of digital and physical for this season at Zegna. We took the idea that we can’t invite people as a creative and challenging idea for what could be the future. Will we be able to do shows as before? Do we need to do shows before? We don’t know. I think that there’s going to be more formats, perhaps more private. Physical with, say, 300 people. But sensory in a way you can touch the fabric, you can see the material, and you can see the silhouette.

JL: We’re a little different than you guys in having never done a fashion show. Our biggest presentation was what we did together in Paris. And so we’re used to the digital way of presenting. However, as my craft develops and we start to play with knits and tailoring, and our pieces become more complex and beautiful to the touch, there’s the flip side of maybe that’s what we want to do. Perhaps having the human experience that maybe we haven’t had in the past.

We’re used to being digital, but it’s sad that at this moment — as we’re playing in a lot of new categories, that we were able to play within with Zegna and Alessandro — we kind of don’t have a platform to share this physically with the world. But as we’ve always done as a species, we adapt to the times, and we find ways to do what we have to do. I think creativity thrives when it’s limited.

There’s been a lot of talk about streetwear being outmuscled by menswear among young people as a kind of trend, but I don’t think it’s as binary as that. The modern man’s wardrobe is fluid.

JL: That’s what we believe. We believe that there’s not this jump from wearing a hoodie and sweats one day to the perfect tailored suit the next. There’s this in between area that speaks to the transition, but that also speaks to the time that the gentleman is in, in an honest way. Fear of God has always tried to create products that allow our customer to be who they are. We wanted to create something that’s digestible for our customer, that he could see himself in, that’s not intimidating. That when he walks into a room with a suit on, or something tailored, he still looks like himself, and he doesn’t look like he’s made this 10 year jump to being older.

I don’t think it’s as black as white as a tailored suiting world and a streetwear world. I think we’re all very complex individuals who have tons of different needs and desires. We were really just trying to speak to the modern lifestyle, and understanding those needs and desires, and how the consumer moves, and what his day is like, and how we can help him be best prepared for that through his wardrobe.

I’m growing, as I’m maturing in the same way that you are. My taste, needs and desires all develop, and you could say it’s an assumption that the rest of the world is kind of feeling the same way. The research and development that we depend on is asking the question “what’s missing from our closet? How do we want to present ourselves? Today’s a little different than it was yesterday, and what are the solutions that we can create?” I think we all live in the same world, and so we’re connected. And you assume that what you’re feeling is what other people are feeling, whether right or wrong, but that’s usually the safest assumption. So we’ve taken on the responsibility of an industry pacesetter and leader in what we do, and we do feel a responsibility to step up first in these instances, and go with our gut versus watching the market change and being reactive, and we’re going to continue to do that.

This collection won’t be cheap, but it embodies the “buy less but better” mentality.

AS: From day one we thought about life long garments. About pieces that you can mix and match — one collection after the other. Let’s think about a garment that you can easily give to your younger brother, or to your girlfriend. The quality of fabric and construction means it’s built to last. If you open the garments inside, you see the quality.

I’m intrigued how that plays into the studio dynamic. Jerry is very intuitive with no formal training, whereas you studied fashion design, Alessandro. How does it play out?

AS: We didn’t know how each other worked at first, but when we entered the room, I saw a fantastic soul, and the beautiful aesthetic behind the man. Keeping that in mind, all the discussion, bigger or smaller about a centimeter, or pants, or a jacket, whatever, were all part of this common idea to deliver the best possible project.

JL: We’re [Fear of God] are so unorthodox in our process, coming in with two to 300-plus images and vintage references, with what I thought was an all over the place story. Alessandro was quickly able to understand them as well as the emotion that we were trying to get across. We agreed on the question, and we agreed on that perspective, which allowed us to easily work through and work past the different ways of working that we both were accustomed to.

Let’s talk about the collection itself. Those turtle necks are wild and immediately caught my eye! I know it’s like asking to pick a favorite child, but do you have any stand out pieces?

JL: It’s exactly like picking your favorite child because we’re really trying to tell a full story. And so, every word, every child, is necessary. And if you leave one out, the story is not complete. The piece you are speaking about, I love that it’s this rear zip, like a turtleneck, but not, but it’s with shirting fabric. Living in LA and not being able to wear this turtleneck swag, it’s just like, “How do we do this?”

We considered so many different things, wanting this clean look without a lapel and this new turtleneck feel that’s not heavy knit. Every piece, if we speak to the turtleneck, or we speak to anything, is it as effortless and relaxed as it is sophisticated and elegant? That was the filter that we do everything through. On top of that, I just think it’s a solution. It’s a solution that it’s a shirt that didn’t really exist. Maybe for women in a different way, maybe with shoulder pads back in the day, but I felt we needed to propose something new in this area that wasn’t as stuffy as a traditional suit and tie. So it’s a pretty cool piece for you to mention, because it really speaks to all those different elements.

AS: I think we created, I don’t want to say new categories, but new pieces that didn’t exist in the classic menswear wardrobe before. I haven’t seen a sports pant that uses the best fabrics and finishes in the market. To channel this sportswear attitude through a tailoring mindset is interesting. I’m sure that guys will find the collection interesting because we’ll convey not only a new aesthetic, but also a lot of new pieces.

To finish, I wanted to ask about the suit. Jerry, I was learning today about the role of the suit and its relationship with black identity, power, and social politics. I think of stuff like Obama’s tan suit to Kanye and the Rosewood movement to the very idea of Sunday best. So what does this mean to you on a cultural level? The same goes for you, Alessandro.

JL: If you Google Sunday best Chicago, there’s this image that comes up of five young black kids in front of this old car and they’re all in their Sunday best. It’s a portrait that we have hanging up in my mom’s house. And there is something about a Sunday best and getting dressed for church and something about this term of church clothes, which were always considered your best clothes.

There is a lot of nuances that go into the feeling a suit gives you, and the emotion that a suit gives you, and a good feeling suit. And I think a lot of times Americans, and maybe people of color, have different shapes, many times the proportions and silhouettes aren’t best for them.

And that’s one of the things that I also considered during this process is making suits that allow the people who wear them to still feel like themselves, and even a better version of themselves, and not someone else. A lot of times when you put a suit on you begin to feel like someone else instead of the best version of yourself.

And so, yeah, there’s a lot of that deep down emotion that goes into it. And it comes from exactly that, the Sunday best growing up and only being able to wear your church clothes on Sundays. And if you got caught wearing your slacks or your blazer during the week, you would definitely catch a spanking and be in trouble. So there’s a lot of that that culturally we poured into this project.

AS: Yeah. I totally agree. First of all, I googled Sunday best Chicago 1941 [holds up phone to camera]. Amazing! I want to start from one of the sentences Jerry said about looking your best. We did this process and quite often people are forgetting that, but think, Graeme, of the first time you feel fantastic, when you were sensing what is good on you for the first time. It’s not the second time or the third; it’s only the first time because you’re used to it after that.

So when you put something on yourself and it’s so right — not every garment you own is like that — just a few pieces, and you put it on and you say, “Wow.” That emotion, and you fix and block that emotion in your mind, is exactly when we click — your emotions, the piece, this time. So we’re trying to convey — and I think it’s a very important story to build as far as suiting goes since I consider suiting the most iconic piece of the menswear uniform —  that it’s very important to be able for each customer to have a proper one. Because if not, you look like somebody else.

Jerry Lorenzo: Yep. Very well said. And I think that was the beauty in us coming together because I have a perspective of some shapes and silhouettes and you have a perspective of shapes and silhouettes, and how do we honor each and all these different body types and still give them the same emotion.

[stefinatelychen]

I didn't have much of a chance to stock up on food like most others were doing before the effects of Covid-19 started hitting the United States and things started shutting down/changing over here because I was working so much. The rest of my family is in Southern California, and they had stocked up beforehand because they work normal daytime hours and they have each other to depend on.

Beyond that, my brother-in-law has always been a bit neurotic and has always prepared for worst case scenarios -- so he was one of the people hoarding tons of water, toilet paper, and canned food at Costco prior to the mandates for social distancing. I thought that he was being paranoid (because he has a history of being paranoid) and because I was so damn busy working, I didn't really dig into what was going on with COVID-19. I had read SOME articles that were part of a series called "The Coronavirus Diaries" on Slate yet still it all seemed distant.

It wasn't until my sister urged me to stock up on food that I did -- and I did a pretty minimal amount of stocking up for three main reasons: I still wasn't taking it too seriously (I thought that if anything, my reason for not being able to access food would be because people were panic-buying, and that that would settle down over time), I was too broke to stock up on much (I work in the service industry - most of us live paycheck to paycheck), and a lot of the hoarders had taken out a lot of the food that I normally buy.

About a month and a half (maybe two) prior to the point where people started panic-buying at the grocery stores in my city, I had started experimenting with eating vegetarian -- sort of on a whim, after watching Okja (which was also a random spontaneous decision). There are several reasons to go veggie/vegan: ethical reasons (loving animals, loving the planet), health and nutritional reasons, reasons related to grossness/cleanliness/neuroticism, etc. I see validity in all of those but in all honesty, much of what I do in life is random more than anything. I like absurdity, I like challenging myself to do something that the 5-year-younger version of me would never have thought I would do (moving to Austin, TX from Los Angeles was another one of those spontaneous, absurd choices - a high school/college me saw me nowhere else but on the coasts or somewhere foreign, working towards a career in the arts rather than working full time in the service industry in the middle of the country). So I thought, "vegetarianism - why not now? Okay, now it is." It would astound my mom if she knew -- 8 year old me was always picking all the meat out of the dishes she served, and she had raised us to be carnivores.

Anyhow, it was actually good timing to go vegetarian. By the time I was used to eating vegetarian and no longer craved meat (in fact, I find veggie meats to be more delicious and interesting tasting now... but that's probably because I taste fatigue on all things easily -- from jobs to music to food to drinks to even a good amount of people -- so this may be yet another phase), the panic-buyers were clearing out all the meats in the grocery stores. The only things left were vegetarian and vegan meats. So no problem there at first - I stocked up on all sorts of veggie meats from both the fresh and frozen sections (Beyond Burgers, Dr. Praeger's, Gardein, Morningstar, BOCA...).

Veggies were hard to find - even in the frozen section. I wound up settling for a very ordinary bag of GOYA's frozen carrot-corn-pea medley. I also bought ice cream for the first time in months (probably because the shopping experience at HEB was so stressful -- there were still a lot of people in there and some people weren't trying to stay 6 feet away from anybody at all, and there was a weird energy to the entire store... plus grocery shopping has always been a stressful thing in the past for me because (1) people are generally so spatially unaware, and it annoys me and (2) I am the worst decision-maker ever because I am overly analytical to the point where decisions wear me out, AND I am prone to marketing (packaging, "sale" markers, strategic price points, etc.) so I have to do a lot of filter-ing/second guessing and will myself to listen to the things I remember from psychology books about marketing/decision-making). The groceries I picked up weren't TOO different from what my normal run has been like for the past few months, with the exception of toilet paper and pasta (because there was none left of either).

I deliberately chose not to get snacks because I knew that I'd be home all the time, and I'd feel compelled to boredom eat, and if it was there I would most definitely consume it. I settled for ice cream and cereal as dessert items for when I was really craving some sugary-stress treats for when PMS would hit.

Everyone was buying milk - but luckily for me, I switched to oat milk a year or so ago and have loved it more than any other milk (almond, dairy, coconut, walnut, soy).

Before COVID-19, I was often the only roommate at home during the daytime. I'm pretty introverted at home. I'm outgoing a lot of times outside of my home and work, so a lot of people don't assume this. But home is my sanctuary - it is my place to recharge. I deliberately chose to work night hours at a bar when I first started living here because I loved having the apartment to myself as often as possible. I absolutely love cooking and find it meditative -- but only when there is nobody else around. I'm not a fan of talking to people while I'm focused on the food, or of even being around anyone. For whatever reason, it turns the experience of cooking from a meditative/relaxing act to a stressful one for me. So I used to cook a lot more before the mandates to stay home, and I was really taking my time in the kitchen (and enjoying having the entire space of our tiny kitchen to myself) - taking pleasure in mincing garlic, chopping vegetables, boiling water, cooking pasta... letting the smells fill the room... sometimes listening to a podcast while I cooked, or just listening to the soothing sounds of boiling water, crackling oil, sizzling sauteed vegetables, the knife on the chopping board... it was so simply therapeutic.

Then my roommate started working at home a little over a week ago. I just can't spend time in the kitchen anymore. He brought home his 3-monitor computer setup from work, and it doesn't fit in his room (he mentioned that he had to clean out his room first before putting his computer setup in there, but now I think he's just resolved to stay in the common area) so he's now permanently camped out on our dining table in the common area. We have an open set-up where the living room, dining room, and kitchen are all one big shared area, so there is no real privacy once you leave your room. He has become a permanent fixture of that space, and now when I leave my room, he is never not there.

Most of the time, I do not feel like interacting because I am (1) cranky from not going out much and having my balance of seeing the world, seeing other individuals, and (2) he is (endearing but...) a chronic talker. He is one of those people who feels compelled to fill the empty air with empty speech - small talk that is well-meaning but damaging to the psyche of a cranky, hyper-sensory, internet-dwelling girl like me who doesn't want to talk to anyone until she's ready (it's ok, I know I'm not sunshine and flowers), especially at 10 AM in the morning.

He is probably harmless to most other people but to me, I just don't have the capacity to process him yet sometimes (a lot of times) when all I want is to go to the kitchen to grab water and hydrate without talking to anyone. I'm just not a patient person, and I'm too passive to the self-crippling point. I also don't hate people, and have the knee-jerk tendency to want to express care and let everyone be heard even if I am dying inside and will hate both them and myself after-the-fact for a passionate 15-40 minutes. Yes, I'm aware that it’s a problem. 

</journal>

[pandabearlikes]

My Husband, Kim JunMeow

Table of Contents 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Chapter o7. One and The Same

With crystal orbs narrowed into slits, the cat of the night perches outside the jewelry store.  As soon as the security guard heads out, he’d slip in, grab the biggest diamond ring, and swallow it before they caught him.  It is the plan he’d brainstormed for weeks after the bullying incident.  He even secretly researched and discovered that as long as he drank enough water, the ring should come out in perfect form the very next day.  And yet, his little front paws shift and he misses the golden opportunity again.  His face slams the glass door and the guard shoos him away.

He tries for five more days until his confidence in this method takes a dive.  A happy couple walking out of the building details about how each jewelry piece has its own plated barcode and tracker that needs to be removed during purchase, or else police could track and arrest the thief.  Junmyeon definitely didn’t want me to get in trouble and to be honest, stealing isn’t something he wanted to do.  So instead, for the next two weeks, he scans the neighborhood for any couples in bicker and at the brink of break up.  

“I hate you!  IT’S OVER!” a female shouts at her now, ex, angrily rips the engagement ring from her fingers, and throws it to the ground.  

Immediately, the hast kitty leaps out, snatches the discarded ring, and runs off.  Skies start to drizzle with rain.  Zip-lining into the alley, he uncovers a box he had hidden some clothing for emergencies like these.  He dresses himself up.  When he reappears, he is not JunMeow, the brave and cuddly cat, but my lover, Kim Junmyeon.  His thumb brushes the shiny ring within his hands.  It’s not bought by his riches, but he hopes his angel would still love it.  

Back home, I groan as I try to cram a quarter worth of textbook information into my brain for another exam.  In all honestly, I hadn’t slept nor eaten for over 48 hours.  I felt like a piece of crap; every second that passed, I felt my spirits leaving my body.  Not to mention, both my cat and my lover have been missing in action for the last couple of days.  Especially, that cat…yes, I said he could go meet his lover but did he really have to abandon me with a cold bed, every single night?  Sighing, I stroke one of his plush toys.

“Thank you for protecting me, Suho,” my own voice haunts me.

Thank God, JunMeow didn’t throw a tantrum for my misidentification.  Instead, he had tilted his head up with tears brimming in his eyes.  It felt like de ja vu.  The words were spoken in my voice, but my brain couldn’t comprehend them.  It was as though, in that moment, someone else had taken possession of my body.  

The door bell rings, waking me up from my deep thoughts.  Shaking myself awake, I drag myself out of my room.  My expressions instantly perk up at the sight of the handsome Kim Junmyeon.  Grinning, I widen the door opening and invite him in.

“How come whenever you show up, you’re either wet or naked?” I casually ponder.  

Shaking his wet hair, Junmyeon turns to me and asks, “Which one would you rather?”

I gulp.  

“Hm?” he teases.

Chewing my lower lip, I murmur, “I don’t have a preference.”  He looks hot either way…

With a soft chuckle, Junmyeon brushes my hair and takes my hand into his. He tugs me over to the sofa while nervously hiding something behind his back.

“Hm?  Do you want to take a shower and dry off?” I suggest but the antsy Junmyeon shakes his head.  “Hm?”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he musters up courage and reveals the hidden ring.  A gasp spills from my lips before my palm manages to cover my mouth.  Amethyst illuminates into my eyes; the gorgeous violet rays color Junmyeon’s palm.  Immediately, tears brim, an unexplainable bliss rushes into my blood.  

“Is…is that for me?” my voice shakes.

Taking my hand onto his lap, he slips the ring on.  

“I’m sorry I don’t have the money to let you choose from the ones at the jewe—“

I grab hold on his collar and yank him in, smashing my lips into his.  It didn’t make sense that he is apologizing for making today the best day of my life.  Tears rush down both Junmyeon’s cheeks as he drapes his arms around my body, his palm guides the nape of my neck, pressing me closer and closer with his passionate kiss.  All his withheld affections pour out.  This is nothing like the shy pecks and sweet kisses he’s given me before.  His touch is wet but blazing hot.  We pant for air, nose glides against nose.  He starts to slide my shirt off my shoulders.  I shudder against him as he lowers me onto the couch.  Droplets of rainwater stream down his body, dotting my partly worn blouse with Heaven’s gift.  With a soft smile, I lift my palm up and run my fingertips down Junmyeon’s jawline.  A gaze that reads fear and desire, anticipation but unconditional love, his brows sew together as he wordlessly ask for permission.  I nod.  His head lowers, his lips striking my neck and collarbone with much affection…and just as I thought, his tongue does wonders.  Automatically, my back arches and my arms caress his head to brings him closer to my chest.  

“Suho!” a little girl’s voice flashes in my brain.  It almost feels like a pulse flowing through my brain.  

Everything’s so heated and I don’t want to stop.  Our clothes are sloppily still half-clinging onto our bodies.  The rainwater and sweat glues fabric along our skin; each movement creates friction.  I throw my head back and the world starts to grow blurry.

“Meow~” a high pitched kitten purrs as his tiny paws pounce in the wet puddle.  Streaks of water colors the girl’s tea party dress as her giggles ring in my ears.

I heave for air as my lover cradles and brings me upright.  It feels as though an electric shock paralyzes my spine.  My head totters and I grab onto Junmyeon’s forearm for support.  Blinking, he lifts his head from my chest and scans my pale face.

“Wuh…what’s wrong?” he breathes.  Fear collects in his soul.  

“Don’t separate us!!”

I gasp for air as the distraught male hugs my head against his warm chest.  

“Don’t scare me…” he pleas, “Where does it hurt?”

An image of a small kitten hopping up and down in front up me flashes by.  The negatives of the lasting photograph fade away as iridescent light.  I could still smell the musky scent of the dumpster.  

“My Love…” Junmyeon’s body starts to tremble as he holds my feeble form, “Talk to me…”  He presses his lips on the side of my head.

Finally, my eyes reopen and I drift in and out of consciousness, unsure of what is reality and what is just a dream.  Perhaps, both were realities.  I peer up at my lover who’s also paled three shades due to worry.  

“Sorry…” I pull myself together and weakly say, “I’ve been studying too hard and haven’t slept or eaten…”

A heavy sigh of relief disperses from those lips, that are now a bit swollen from our makeup session.  I throw him a gentle smile.  “Sorry for ruining the moment…”

Shaking his head, Junmyeon holds me closer and hooks his chin on the top of my head.  He makes me feel like a little delicate baby and I feel so safe and loved.  Love is so strange sometimes.  You may have this ideal type or relationship goals but when it hits you, nothing matters.  Junmyeon may not be tall or dark or quite possibly live in a deserted forest because he burned all his money but his heart communicated with my heart, words that cannot be expressed out loud.  A tear rushes down the corners of my eye.

“I’ll cook something really quick for you to eat,” he whispers and kisses my earlobe.  I nod and let him go.  

With him gone, or at least a safe distance, I finally allow my fear to show.  The images from the past become clearer and clearer; they aren’t frightening but I’m shaking all over.  I grab hold of the arm of the sofa to try to calm the dizziness.  That’s the last time I put a stupid exam over my own health.  Bearing through the vertigo, I slowly lean my head against a sofa pillow.  In and out of consciousness…I see those familiar bluish gray eyes…my fingertips feel the softness of his fur.  Voices bombard me in a sensory overload.  My body flames with feverish temperature.

“I won’t marry Minseok Oppa anymore…”

“I’ll marry you…” my voice merges with the little girl’s voice as my eyes open wide.  

With the jingle of a bell still fresh in my mind, I rush over to the bedroom.  On my knees, I tear apart boxes and rummage through clutter like a mad woman.  Finally, I discover the black collar JunMeow wore around his neck on the day I took him home.  I had taken it off due to the small size.  My thumbs rub the dirt off the name tag as my eyes squint to read the engraved text.

“Kim…” I read out loud.

Using my nails, I scratch off the rust.  “S….u….”

My fingers grow numb.

“…h….o…..”

“Suho,” I read out loud as overfilled tears sabotage my vision.  Everything finally made sense.  Memories, stolen from my childhood, finally return.  My JunMeow is my precious Suho.  My fragile body convulses as I burst into tears.  “He’s nearing the end of his life...”  The world starts to spin around me.

Alerted by the noise, Junmyeon walks in just in the nick of time to rush over and catch me before I collapsed.  The collar drops from my hand and falls to the floor.  As I completely lose consciousness, Junmyeon’s call and Suho’s meow merges together in my mind.  

Shaking me, my husband calls out my name over and over again.  Blood drains from his face.  His warm palm presses against by forehead and immediately bounces back with inferiority.  A malicious fever boils my body.  Cradling my frame against him, Junmyeon tilts his head up to the sky as if to recite a familiar bargain.  I grab his hand in my sleep.

“Su…ho….” I weep, “I’ll…protect you…”

“My Love…” Junmyeon tearfully calls out.  He picks me up and lays me down on the bed.  A wet towel is placed on top of my forehead.  I flinch; the coldness awakens me for a brief moment.

“It smells so good…” I murmur and gift him a weak smile, hoping it’d be enough to ease his tensed expression.  

“That’s the last time I let you procrastinate and cram information for exams,” he sniffs back tears and scolds. His thumbs stroke the back of my hand and I respond with a coarse chuckle.  “I’ll bring you a bit to eat,” he volunteers.

The delicious tomato omelette causes me to salivate.  Gently, Junmyeon lifts me up and starts to feed my deflated stomach.  He may not be the most experienced chef, but in that moment, the omelette was the best meal I’ve ever eaten.  

“Junmyeon-ah…” I call as he blows on the last bite so that I wouldn’t scald my tongue.  

“Hm?”

“Is JunMeow home?” I softly ask.

The spoon is slowly placed back on the plate and he hesitates his response.  

“Is he with his lover again?” I conclude.

“Yes,” Junmyeon looks me in the eyes and responds with seriousness in his tone.  

“Ah, I see…” I sadly respond.  “Wake me up when he comes home…” I request.  Tears start to brim again and the tip of my nose tinges in pink.  Junmyeon drapes his arms around me and nods.  I flow in and out of consciousness again; a part of me foolishly doesn’t want to fall asleep because I want to be there to welcome my JunMeow - my Suho home as soon as he returned.  

Slowly, my lover starts to sway me back and forth.  “You used to rock me to sleep like this each night…” Junmyeon chokes.

“Do you think he’s mad at me for abandoning him?” I semi-consciously question.  “He must be…I promised we’d protect each other…”  It didn’t occur to me how strange my murmurs would sound to my uninformed husband.

“No…” Junmyeon tears up and squeezes me.  Lips quiver.  “Of course not…How could he?  He loves you so much more than you’ll ever know…”

My tired eyes reopen to admire the ocean-filled ones of Kim Junmyeon.  

“…That’s why he came back to find you even after all these years.  He wants to stay by your side and protect you for the remainder of his life,” Junmyeon confesses the deepest feelings he suppressed within his heart - those he never thought he’d be able to say out loud.  Salted liquid spills from his orbs to my oscillating ones.  

“I’ll make him the happiest in the world…” I tearfully promise.

“He already is…” Junmyeon replies as he seals me with a kiss.  The familiar plitter platter of my window flows into my ears as a soft lullaby.  As I finally surrender to my dreams, I see a blurry image of my lover’s silhouette shrinking into an outline of a fluffy white feline.  

A/N: (-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩___-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩) Let it rain under my eyes…

On side note, did ya’ll skip chapter 5 or something?  

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>>My Husband, Kim JunMeow Archive<<

>>Story Master Archive<<

[spookierswamp]

@questforsims tagged me in this questionnaire thing bc he knows they’re my favorite lmao, answers under the read more....

DO YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR CLOSET DOORS OPEN OR CLOSED? I'm literally terrified of people who can sleep with closet doors open like... do you fear nothing...?

DO YOU TAKE THE SHAMPOOS AND CONDITIONER BOTTLES FROM HOTELS? nah I usually end up using them all lmao

DO YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR SHEETS TUCKED IN OR OUT? untucked

HAVE YOU STOLEN A STREET SIGN BEFORE? not a street sign I guess but one time when I was 15 I was recovering from a party at a friends house in the middle of like, the Scottish nowherseville countryside and like 6am that morning we went out to take a walk and smoke and we ended up taking one of those roadworks signs back to her house for some reason... it was dumb lmao

DO YOU LIKE TO USE POST-IT NOTES? heck yeah there's a wall in my room that's just post-it notes lmao it calms me

DO YOU CUT OUT COUPONS BUT THEN NEVER USE THEM? we don't rly have coupon culture as much here but I probably would if I lived in America...

WOULD YOU RATHER BE ATTACKED BY A BIG BEAR OR A SWARM OF BEES? they don't allow you to have bees in here

DO YOU HAVE FRECKLES? no and thank goodness bc if I had freckles I'd be... too cute.... too powerful

DO YOU ALWAYS SMILE FOR PICTURES? like... in group photos sure but if it's a selfie I almost never smile lmao

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST PET PEEVE? loud/messy eaters tbh

DO YOU EVER COUNT YOUR STEPS WHEN YOU WALK? yeah I used to go on long hikes/walks in the forest and I'd be out for hours and like I'd take one of those pedometers w/ me and I'd feel so fuckin validated when I saw it get to 10,000 lmao...

HAVE YOU PEED IN THE WOODS? y'all foolin if you been out in the woods and you said you haven't tbh

HAVE YOU EVER POOPED IN THE WOODS? ok this is gross nevermind

DO YOU EVER DANCE EVEN IF THERE’S NO MUSIC PLAYING? nah but if you put a bop on i'll immediately start dancing

DO YOU CHEW YOUR PENS AND PENCILS? part of me is like 'nah that's p gross' but yeah i probably do

HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE YOU SLEPT WITH THIS WEEK? just one lmao

WHAT SIZE IS YOUR BED? like... it can fit me + another fully grown man so it's pretty big i guess

WHAT IS YOUR SONG OF THE WEEK? So Emotional by Whitney Houston

IS IT OK FOR GUYS TO WEAR PINK? I literally wear pink every day of my life you stupid bitch

DO YOU STILL WATCH CARTOONS? yeah but not like... with the intensity some of y'all do... i really liked Gravity Falls especially 

WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE MOVIE? most disney movies tbh... I'll never get the appeal of them as a genre lmao... special shoutout to Ace Ventura: Pet Detective for being absolute fucking garbage though

WHERE WOULD YOU BURY HIDDEN TREASURE IF YOU HAD SOME? I probably wouldn't even have time to hide it cause I'd immediately lose it somewhere lmao

WHAT DO YOU DRINK WITH DINNER? honestly it depends on what dinner is? mostly I'll drink soda or wine

WHAT DO YOU DIP A CHICKEN NUGGET IN? mustard, ketchup, bbq sauce, ranch

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FOOD? takoyaki! i also love any and all mexican food

WHAT MOVIES COULD YOU WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND STILL LOVE? there's literally... so many... lmao... Fire Walk With Me, The Birdcage, Scream, Wet Hot American Summer, Blair Witch Project, Donnie Darko, The Craft (like.. semi-ironically but I do love it lmao)

LAST PERSON YOU KISSED/KISSED YOU? a boy but he's lame so he won't be named here lmao

WERE YOU EVER A BOY/GIRL SCOUT? nah I always thought boy scouts were dumb but as an adult I kinda wish I'd been a part of something like that

WOULD YOU EVER STRIP OR POSE NUDE IN A MAGAZINE? what kinda magazine....

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WROTE A LETTER TO SOMEONE ON PAPER? me and my ex-boyfriend used to write letters to each other all the time! so probably like, last year

CAN YOU CHANGE THE OIL ON A CAR? nah, I've legit never even driven more than once lmao....

EVER GOTTEN A SPEEDING TICKET? ... the one time I drove around it was in an abandoned parking lot and my then-boyfriend was sitting next to me with one hand on the steering wheel it was fun...

EVER RAN OUT OF GAS? .... i almost hit another car that was doing the same thing but i didn't and i was so proud of myself lmao

WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE KIND OF SANDWICH? meatball sub... or like.... steak & cheese

BEST THING TO EAT FOR BREAKFAST? pancakes, coffee, hashbrowns and/or a breakfast taco, at least two kolaches

WHAT IS YOUR USUAL BEDTIME? midnight or whenever i pass out after work

ARE YOU LAZY? yea

WHEN YOU WERE A KID, WHAT DID YOU DRESS UP AS FOR HALLOWEEN? aw heck so many things! Vampires have always been a big thing for me tho and I was both Spike and Angel from Buffy the Vampire Slayer multiple times lmao

WHAT IS YOUR CHINESE ASTROLOGICAL SIGN? I can never remember which one but either dog or pig

HOW MANY LANGUAGES CAN YOU SPEAK? I can barely speak my first language lmao but I can bluff my way thru German and I've made half-assed attempts at learning Russian, Japanese and Icelandic before...

DO YOU HAVE ANY MAGAZINE SUBSCRIPTIONS? nah

WHICH ARE BETTER: LEGOS OR LINCOLN LOGS? legos you dumb bitch

ARE YOU STUBBORN? sure

WHO IS BETTER: LENO OR LETTERMAN? whoms't?

EVER WATCH SOAP OPERAS? British soaps are genuinely class but I never rly keep up w/ them, also telenovelas are amazing and important...

ARE YOU AFRAID OF HEIGHTS? nah I love heights! I was afraid of them as a kid but ask any of my friends/boyfriends and they'll tell you I'm always trying to get people to go to the top of stuff lmao

DO YOU SING IN THE CAR? only during inebriated night-time road adventures

DO YOU SING IN THE SHOWER? pretty much constantly lmao

DO YOU DANCE IN THE CAR? like... how?

EVER USED A GUN? honestly I've never even touched a gun lmao

LAST TIME YOU GOT A PORTRAIT TAKEN BY A PHOTOGRAPHER? uuh high school I reckon

DO YOU THINK MUSICALS ARE CHEESY? yeah of course who doesn’t

IS CHRISTMAS STRESSFUL? very

EVER EAT A PIEROGI? no but it feels like my kind of shit

FAVORITE TYPE OF FRUIT PIE? (dale cooper voice) cherry pie

OCCUPATIONS YOU WANTED TO BE WHEN YOU WERE A KID? painter or director, something artistic or whatever, maybe something with computers I always figured I’d be good at

DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS? yeah I love ghosts they're all my good pals

EVER HAVE A DEJA-VU FEELING? yeah and I'll do things multiple times in a row just out of not paying attention lmao

DO YOU TAKE A VITAMIN DAILY? yeah I take an A-Z multivit and cod liver oil usually

DO YOU WEAR SLIPPERS? nah they make my feet too damn warm boy

DO YOU WEAR A BATHROBE? nah but when I'm a guest in a hotel w/ somebody I'm always claiming dibs on the complementary bathrobe lmao

WHAT DO YOU WEAR TO BED? if it's cold I'll wear like a t-shirt or something

WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CONCERT? I went to a bunch of festivals and free concerts and stuff as a tiny lil' baby ten year old but the first one I went to without parents was probably like... Fall Out Boy? or another band from my 2007 - 2009 emo phase lmao

WALMART, TARGET, OR KMART? the only thing I learned when I was in America was that Walmart is both haunted and cursed, Target is The Promised Land and Kmart is a sensory hallucination

NIKE OR ADIDAS? Adidas.... also I like the new adidas NHL kits sue me....

CHEETOS OR FRITOS? the first time I had Fritos it was with a bean dip and I almost barfed so definitely Cheetos lmao

PEANUTS OR SUNFLOWER SEEDS? both are gross whatever

EVER HEAR OF THE GROUP TRES BIEN? no but they sound very good

EVER TAKE DANCE LESSONS? nah

IS THERE A PROFESSION YOU PICTURE YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE DOING? handsome genius/hockey player

CAN YOU CURL YOUR TONGUE? heck yeah

EVER WON A SPELLING BEE? I legit don't think we have those here but I definately would have if I competed because I was the best damn speller in my class

HAVE YOU EVER CRIED BECAUSE YOU WERE SO HAPPY? I laugh-cry more than anything tbh

OWN ANY RECORD ALBUMS? nah I used to have a record player and I've bought a bunch of records as gifts for people but like I download all my music anyway so I'm 2 lazy 2 cheap lmao

OWN A RECORD PLAYER? ^

DO YOU REGULARLY BURN INCENSE? nah but I love candles

EVER BEEN IN LOVE? yeah but honestly once was enough lmao

WHO WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE IN CONCERT? literally one of my only goals in life is to see Bjork live before she quits music or I die lmao... also Math the Band (again), Anamanaguchi, Mac Demarco, The Mountain Goats...

WHAT WAS THE LAST CONCERT YOU SAW? not like a concert I guess but I went to see Kim Chi perform in February and it was lit

HOT TEA OR COLD TEA? like... Iced Tea? the way this is worded is disgusting lmao I'll go with hot tea

TEA OR COFFEE? I literally make coffee every single fucking day of my life @ work and like... not only do I now hate it I hate anyone who drinks it lmao

SUGAR COOKIES OR SNICKERDOODLES? what the fuck does this mean

CAN YOU SWIM WELL? yeah!

CAN YOU HOLD YOUR BREATH WITHOUT HOLDING YOUR NOSE? yeah!

ARE YOU PATIENT? yeah!

DJ OR BAND AT A WEDDING? I'm not the kind of person to have friends who are in bands and not ask them to play at my wedding lmao also wedding DJ's are always weird old men

EVER WON A CONTEST? yeah I've won like.. talent shows and stupid semi-academic shit like that but nothing super cool

HAVE YOU EVER HAD PLASTIC SURGERY? nah but no question i'd absolutely get it

WHICH ARE BETTER: BLACK OR GREEN OLIVES? green

CAN YOU KNIT OR CROCHET? nah but i can kind of sew

BEST ROOM FOR A FIREPLACE? every room but only if you live in a log cabin or some shit

DO YOU WANT TO GET MARRIED? yeah but like, not for the sake of being married? 

IF MARRIED, HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN MARRIED? ^

WHO WAS YOUR HIGHSCHOOL CRUSH? aw man I threw a lot of time and energy into dating boys in high school but like... my biggest crushes were always unattainable and short-lived lmao so no-one notable...

DO YOU CRY AND THROW A FIT UNTIL YOU GET YOUR OWN WAY? god honestly any single one of my friends/previous boyfriends will tell you I throw tantrums over literally anything lmao... I usually act pretty stable and emotionally mature but when I'm comfortable with people I'll fuck shit up for no reason lmao

DO YOU HAVE KIDS? nah

DO YOU WANT KIDS? I'm way too self-centered and emotionally unavailable for any of that shit right now lmao but in like 10 years I'd be open to it for sure

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE COLOR? forest green, goth purples, black, pink, also what can only be described as like, Nickelodeon slime green

DO YOU MISS ANYONE RIGHT NOW? uhhhh pass

WHO ARE YOU GOING TO TAG TO DO THIS TAG NEXT? nobody! it's like, 100 questions long and I don't feel comfortable that tagging any of you won't be annoying lmao but if you wanna do this msg me and I'll tag you in it! ! ! ! 

[joannechocolat]

Scent and memory

(And here’s the piece...) 

My earliest memories are of scent. The corner shop in which I was born, with its atmosphere of fresh cardboard and old newspapers, and the coal fire that smoked, and the cellar in which my grandfather kept potatoes and pickles and home-brewed wine. The scent of the Mustela baby lotion that my mother used on my skin, and which she always brought home from France. The blue-green reek of the tidal flats on the island of Noirmoutier, where my family had a house; and which to me was the smell of the sea, so that every other coast seemed to me to be missing some essential ingredient.

Scent awakens memory; it speaks to the other senses; it seems to exist outside of time; it sometimes even awakens the dead. My grandfather’s pipe tobacco, Clan, has such a sweet and distinctive scent that, twenty years after his death, it still evokes his presence. And its colour is a faded red, like the fisherman’s smock he used to wear when we went sailing together, and the colour still smells of sunshine, and wind, and a hundred happy memories.

To me, most scents have colours. It’s a form of synaesthesia, in which the brain confuses stimuli, converting sounds to shapes, or sounds, or tastes, giving colours to days of the week, or in my case, converting colours to scent, so that sometimes I find it difficult to separate one from the other. Perhaps this is why, in my house, there are so many brightly-coloured things; and why I always like to keep my favourite perfumes close by, alongside my books and my paintings.

Perfume is my greatest indulgence. Not chocolate, not shoes, but bottles of scent; dozens - no, hundreds - of bottles, each one containing a genie that, when uncorked, can work everyday miracles of memory and mood. Some perfumes are little capsules of time; like the Ô de Lancôme I wore the year I first met my husband – I was sixteen, at sixth-form college - and its colour is the same bright-green as the pullover I used to wear, a fresh and vibrant citrus scent that still brings back those happy days more clearly than a photograph. Or Guerlain’s Chamade, with its dark chypre base, which I wore at university – being an impoverished student then, I couldn’t afford the eau de parfum, but used the bath oil as perfume instead and thought myself very sophisticated. Or Yves Rocher’s Ispahan, which somehow smells of our first home, a rather run-down terrace house, with colourful murals on the walls and a perpetual fog of patchouli and frankincense.

Our sense of smell is the first of our senses to develop. As infants, it is the sense of smell that first connects us to the world. I remember, in the maternity ward, when my daughter was born, holding her – just a few hours old – up to a vase of freesias standing by the bedside. Her reaction was immediate; her little head turned; her mouth opened in an immediate and instinctive desire to explore and to experience.

As adults, we can too often become jaded by the multitude of sense–impressions coming at us all the time. Traffic, televisions, radios, billboards, mobile phones, the constant comings and goings of other people – all can contribute to a sensory overload that can lead to stress and confusion.

But close your eyes, relax, and the sense of smell comes back into its own. Scent speaks directly to the subconscious, sometimes evoking whole scenes that even photographs cannot convey. It has strong emotional associations, too; often linked with memory. Nothing brings back the past like a scent; nothing speaks so clearly and directly to the heart.

             I once held a writing seminar in a women’s prison near my home. The women were all different ages and from wildly different backgrounds; at first I struggled to find a way to engage their creativity. Then I asked: “What smells do you miss?” Each reply was a story. By the end of the day, I had poetry; short fiction; essays; letters to the dead. The next time I came, I brought perfume samples. In that sterile and utilitarian environment, each one was like an oasis.

             Another time, a friend of mine suffered a stroke that left her completely paralysed, unable to speak or to swallow. I knew she dreamed of food and drink, so I brought her the closest things I could find; fruit-scented lip salves from the Body Shop; pomegranate bath bombs from Lush; chocolate-scented lotions to rub into her hands and feet. On her birthday, I made her a virtual birthday cake – a cocktail of scents in a bottle. I used dark chocolate, Kahlua, cinnamon and black pepper. It was inedible, but smelt divine. She kept it by her bed for six months, until she was be able to eat again – in spite of her doctor’s prediction that this might never happen. Such is the positive power of scent and the energy it can harness.  

I first became aware of perfumes through my great-Aunt Marie, an elegant old Parisienne, who had once known Chagall and Edith Piaf, and who until the day she died, always dressed in pink and white, and never wore any perfume other than Chanel Number 5. I remember the glass-stoppered bottle that stood on her dressing-room table, and the scent of impossible flowers, like something out of a distant dream. She was the one who taught me that scent is the oldest magic there is; a scent can change your identity; can bring back the ghosts of long-lost loves; like a fairy godmother, transform the most timid of wallflowers into a heroine, just for one night. Chanel Number 5 still brings her back, and she was the one who encouraged me to haunt perfume departments, to collect samples and bath oils, to discover the scents that would help me express my personality.

Nowadays, I tend to use scent much as I would my wardrobe. I have so many bottles that my husband bought me a cabinet as a gift, in which I keep all my perfume bottles, neatly categorized and ready to use. The top shelf is for gourmand fragrances, with their notes of gingerbread; vanilla; honey and chocolate. Muegler’s Angel; Rochas’ Tocade; Kurkadjian’s Absolue du Soir. The second is for florals; Chanel no. 19; Fracas; Trésor; Paris. The third, for herbal and citrus scents; Jo Malone’s Lime Basil; Acqua de Parma; Guerlain’s Mitsouko. The bottom shelf is for orientals: Habit Rouge; Coromandel; L’Autre; the lovely creamy sandalwood of Chanel’s Bois des Iles.

Every morning I choose a scent according to my mood. Wistful; exuberant; romantic; brave. Some days I look for an old friend; on other days I need a breath of fresh air. When I’m writing a new book, I often choose a scent on behalf of my protagonist. I wear it much in the same way that method actors sometimes use scent to get into character. Vianne Rocher was Aqua de Parma; Blueeyedboy was l’Heure Bleue; the seductive Zozie de l’Alba was scented with Guerlain’s Habit Rouge. The book I’m writing right now smells of a new Chanel perfume, Boy: a light and lovely unisex blend of lavender and vanilla, with which I’ve recently become more than a little obsessed.

For me, the most important aspect of attraction has always been about feeling good. There is a tangible radiance to well-being that no cosmetic can duplicate. That’s why I tend to give more thought to the scent I wear than to clothes or makeup, or even shoes. My wardrobe is made up of bottles, neatly lined up in my scent cabinet. Some are old friends; some, new discoveries. Each one fits me perfectly, tailored to my changing moods.

My little black dress is Coromandel; I wear it with heels and attitude. My sexy number is Bois des Iles, with its creamy sandalwood scent. Francis Kurkadjian’s Acqua Universalis is my favourite pair of jeans; almost, but not quite unisex, fresh and informal and effortless. I wear Fracas when I want to turn heads; with its blast of tuberose, it’s my strapless Oscar frock. Yves Rocher’s Ispahan is the hippy dress I can’t bear to throw out; I still have half a bottle (it’s now sadly discontinued) that I wear on special occasions. Houbigant’s Chantilly is there in the mornings for when I want to feel sixteen again. I wore it throughout my teenage years, and it always takes me back.

Besides, at 52, whatever I wear, it’s getting less and less likely that people will say in all honesty: “You look fabulous.” But very often, people do say (as did a grumpy Head Porter on a recent trip to my old college, startled out of his apathy by a passing whiff of Guerlain’s Samsara); “You smell fabulous.” Because beauty isn’t about how you look, but how you make other people feel. And whatever can make a Head Porter smile, on a dull autumn day in Cambridge, is surely a power to conjure with.

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