#guy who just runs to places and does his job in a variety of places and his wife just sort of vibes at home sort of situation??? ig???

[astrofiish]

HES MARRIED?!?!?!??!!!?

[simpjaes]

renaissance man (p. js)

Taking note of the strangers you see day to day isn’t something you’d normally do. The only reason today is different is because the guy who made small talk as he rang you up for your intimate items was the same guy who showed up catering for your family reunion.  or the one where jay is a dildo salesman, a caterer, a self-titled mechanic, and also your ride home. he is not an expert in any of his jobs, but he sure is an expert in wit and well, other things.

minors dni!! | pls reblog to show your support!

WORDCOUNT― 14.6k

PAIRING― park jongseong x afab reader 

CONTENT― fluffy comfort smut, strangers to lovers like immediately, you buy a monster sized dildo, blatant talking of masturbation and toys, smut, cliche blooming an attachment to someone after (1) fuckening. 

!!ATTENTION!!― read this before? that’s because I run two blogs and like to re-vamp fics i’ve previously written for other groups! [@/ncteez is likely where you’ve read it from. THAT IS ME!!!] 

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― it’s kind of fluffy im so sorry i just have feelings for him, average cock size jay!!!![i am not of this belief, i think his cock is fat and huge], he is very much a service top, making out, hand holding, caressing, grinding, finger fucking, titty worship,  unprotected sex, sweet talking as a form of dirty talk, missionary bc i refuse to pretend he wouldn’t want that, back scratches (sexual)

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Never have you been put in the position to make small talk about the sex toys you place on a counter to purchase. Then again, you guess it’s part of the job description that most people ignore or aren’t privy to actually doing. 

Never have you been informed of the wide variety of lubricants, additional toy-cleaners, or the bigger and smaller alternatives to your chosen toy. You don’t show discomfort though, because it’s not uncomfortable. Sex is normal, masturbation is more normal, and the man in front of you appears to be normal too.

“There’s twelve different color variants if you prefer something less fleshy.” The man says, standing at the counter with some sort of a permanent pout on his lips. 

“I’m fine, if you could just ring me up now I can get out of your hair.” You respond, glancing at the time on your phone and wondering how you got stuck with the only employee who actually does his job here.

“Are you sure you don’t want any lubricant?” The man adds, gazing at the size of your toy and then looking you up and down as if you clearly wouldn’t be able to handle your chosen toy without help.

The man with no name tag appears to be blissfully unaware of his invasiveness with that question as you tilt your head with a raised brow. Shocked at the very question, it’s actually quite laughable that he’s so monotone with the offensive comment. You imagine he’s done this for so long that he must be a manager trying to get the day over with, going through the steps in a bored mood with little to no regard as to how he must sound to strangers buying their first or twentieth dildo. 

With your assumption that he doesn’t exactly care about the level of wet your vagina is when you use this toy, you respond. “I think I know my body well enough and I already have lube, but thanks.”

He nods, not even sparing you much of a glance before giving you a total and bagging your item.

Now, despite Jay’s lack of interest toward the purchase of toys, he finds it comical that he’s grown numb to the very fact that he knows what everyone in this town’s kinks are after they step out of the shop’s door. Someone’s gotta do this job and keep those secrets…he likes to think he fits the bill perfectly. 

Lively as he may be outside of this shop, each job comes with a personality and this one calls for one of disinterest in your product but interest in the sale. He’s not one to lie to himself though, many times a pretty girl has marched in and bought toys far bigger than any man and he does tend to let his mind wander about it from time to time. When he first started this job, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, he found it hard to navigate a single sale without a flush of tints crossing his cheeks and ears. Now, he’s become a veteran at keeping his dick locked in place if he were to feel some type of way about a purchase and the one purchasing. 

Shy as he was when he started, it’s all lost now as he handles dicks and dongs, pocket pussies and anal plugs, even whips and chains. 

Shy. That’s definitely a word and surprisingly one that can describe him when he’s not on schedule within these walls of alien dicks and lime flavored lube to match the grotesque green color. At his other job, because he works two, he takes the praise of being the charming yet timid man who shows up with pans of food for events. 

The guests seem to love him and many times during weddings and company parties he has been offered phone numbers or asked for one simply because he appears to be that of a friendly face with a kind sense of being. Someone you’d wanna bring home to mom, some might say. 

It’s a stark contrast of jobs, and somehow he’s managed to dodge knowing many of the people coming into his night job to shop for ways to fuck themselves. The rare time it had happened, he was thankful to have another person in the shop to ring them up. Keeping up with two jobs is hard, and keeping up with two personalities is even harder.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You hadn't thought of that guy from the sex shop even once until he showed his face at your family reunion. 

He noticed you before you managed to realize it was him though. Stealing looks in your direction as you chat with little cousins and elder aunts and uncles, mostly to double check in his brain if you’re really the girl who showed up and nonchalantly bought the newest dildo in stock. The fleshy colored one with rotating beads and a g-spot stimulator button. You know, the really fucking huge one. 

 Upon meeting his eye again for the first time, he could tell it really is you, simply because of the way you furrow your brow as you recognize him. 

Jay couldn’t help but smirk. He knew that eventually someone at an event would recognize him as their local sex-shop manager, he’s actually shocked it doesn’t happen more often. At least it’s you though, a woman who looks near his age and clearly has a very healthy relationship with her sexuality. So much so that you weren’t shy or nervous in buying the toy from him. Because it’s honestly pretty common to see someone nervous or uncomfortable while buying items far less telling than the one you bought.

His smirk doesn’t go unnoticed by you before you look away from him and focus your attention back to your family and by the time he’s prepared the food and is standing aside to explain what ingredients the dishes have, you’re walking up with your empty plate and an awkward glance. 

He follows you down the line of dishes, seemingly more interested in you than anyone else. You could argue it’s just an attempt to make you feel embarrassed, or perhaps even an attempt to ask you not to snitch on where else he works to make his money. 

“Do I know you from somewhere?” You ask, a knowing look telling him that you’re already very aware of that ‘somewhere’ you know him from. 

His pursed lips and snide hidden laugh at you is one thing, but the way he whispers to you over a pan of potato casserole is another. 

“I think you know who I am.” He says, crossing his arms as he leans back again with a flicker of a crooked grin. 

You leave it at that, looking him in the eye curiously and for some reason, smiling back at the strange second encounter with a man who appears to have a name tag now.

“Thanks, Jay. See you around.” 

Heading away from the tables of food and toward the table that contains all of your favorite cousins, you are immediately bombarded with a raised brow from one of them. Ah, nosy. 

“What was that about?” One of them leans over to ask, glancing at the man who is still overseeing the table of food and maintaining perfect temperatures. She doesn’t quite catch the way Jay’s eyes flicker back to you, over and over again, repeatedly. 

“Huh? He was just telling me what was in the potatoes.” 

She takes your answer as truth without issue, and the conversation falls away and into something else. College life, job life, family life. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Okay so, you’re trying to hear yourself out here. Are you somehow curious and interested in speaking with Jay? Yeah. Do you know why? Also yes. For one, he just sold you a fucking interesting sex toy last weekend in the most uncomfortable way possible, and now he’s here at your family reunion to remind you of what you do in your apartment when you’re alone. 

His personality seems different this time too. He wasn’t monotone, he was snide with you about knowing who you are. He probably thinks its funny that he ended up at your family reunion over any other event.

So yeah, maybe you find yourself going up to the table for seconds even though you’re no longer hungry. Maybe you definitely wait until no one else is at the table and he appears to be tidying up the space and wiping up spills before speaking to him again. 

“Just how many jobs do you have?” You ask in a sarcastic tone when you reach him, the table between the two of you creating a comfortable distance to poke and prod.

He jumps only slightly at your presence because he didn’t notice you walking up. The brief break he’s taken from stealing glances so he could actually do his jobs appears to be the time you feel the need to finally approach. Still, he’s smiling again, looking at you up and down. 

“Plenty. How much lube do you have left?” He answers before shooting back his own question and getting right to the point. 

You freeze in shock at his question, reminding yourself that his monotone voice from the late dildo purchase is no more and he now comes across as vibrant and charming to you. You check him out for a moment, taking mental notes of what may not or may not be to like about him. You can’t tell if it’s good news or bad news that you’re not finding anything to raise any red flags. 

He’s bold, confidence, charming, clearly has a decent work ethic– 

“I can’t imagine you have much left, that thing was a fucking monster. We have tons in stock if you wanna–” He pauses to cover his mouth, forgetting that he’s supposed to be timid and gentle during his day job. He’s not supposed to be himself.

You find yourself laughing though, leaning over the table and holding out your empty plate. Mostly just to get in closer to him without alerting your family of a new future husband or something. 

“Why are you so interested in my ‘fucking monster”’ dildos anyway?” You narrow your eyes. 

He pauses, easing up at the way you’re just as cheeky and playful as he is, despite being surrounded by your family. It’s mildly inappropriate, but it’s making his shift go by quickly. You’re making his shift enjoyable today, so he continues. 

“I think anyone would be interested, with all things considered.” He checks you out again with a brief pause, knowing the size of that dildo you bought by heart, and fully aware that it probably ripped you in half if you really managed to put that thing anywhere inside of you. “Correction, they should be worried.” 

“You’re different from before,” you comment, both of you now blatantly staring down each other. “I like this version of you more.” 

Something inside of him feels giddy at that. Not to be cliche but he wonders if this is what it’s like to instantly have a crush on someone. Again, he’s not one to lie to himself. You’re pretty and you appear to be confident. Confident enough to take time from your family reunion to have a discussion about your plastic cock intake anyway.

“Maybe I’ll see you again sometime then.” He puts a hand forward, inviting you to shake it but you simply stare it down instead.  

“Yeah, maybe you will.” You smile, slapping his hand as if you’re low fiving him before swirling around and walking away thinking hard about the fact that…yeah, he might actually see you sooner than he thinks. 

Honestly, maybe within the next day or two because he was kind of right to ask about how much lube you have left, but it’s not like you’d answer that truthfully if at all. You might be running out after just two uses. He was right again about it being a fucking monster, because well, yeah. Maybe you’ll pop in and shop for bulk lube instead of rejecting his up-sale this time. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Unfortunately for you upon the reunion coming to an end, you get into your car and of course it doesn’t start. You drop your head to the steering wheel in a sigh and annoyed grunt.

The last thing you need is your father driving you home because he will lecture you about your car and how it’s got to be some fault of your own for it to not start. And you know, yeah maybe it was your fault. Why were your lights turned on during a sunny Sunday afternoon? Fuck if you know. Why were they left on for the entire nine hours you’ve been here at your parent’s house? You refuse to answer your own question.

And just as you go to accept your defeat, preparing to head back inside and take the walk of shame ten minutes after saying your goodbyes, a savior appears. 

That savior is none other than Jay,  walking up with his stiff button down shirt partially unbuttoned, hair now disheveled as he must have ruffled it up after the day of work. He watched you from his catering van for just a few minutes before finally getting out to offer his expertise. 

“The battery is dead.” He smiles, slapping both palms on your hood and leaning to look at you through the windshield. 

“Smart man, can you un-dead my battery before my dad comes out?”

Jay shakes his head apologetically. 

“I already checked the van for the cables, could be a write up on my part for not checking before leaving. We are supposed to have all sorts of shit to prevent breakdowns on a job. Not today though, apparently.” He scratches the back of his neck as he walks to your opened car door. 

“If you can hang tight for like ten minutes I can swing by after dropping the van off.”

Your eyes plead with him. You’d prefer this, yes. If he’s willing to help, you’re willing to accept.

“You sure I’m not too out of the way for you to do that?”

He shakes his head nonchalantly, waving you off as he leans into your car to pull your keys out of the ignition. He smells like food, obviously he does, but there’s a scent of something else on him that’s far more attractive. The dull scent of cologne that matches him all too well. 

“Don’t try to turn it on anymore if you don’t want your dad coming out.” He laughs. “I’m sure he would help you but if you’d rather I help you, I am more than happy to do it.”

He’s teasing. His little crush pushes him to want to help you, but he’s gonna play it off as casually as possible. 

“I’ll hang out here. My dad would lecture the fuck out of me.”

Jay nods, backing away and heading back to his van to fulfill his offer.

On another note, you’re shocked that your father didn’t hear the commotion, and even more shocked that he didn’t step outside once since the reunion ended. He must have been tired, and you know him, he sleeps like a rock and probably already hit the sack without even cleaning up the yard.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Oh, it’s dead dead.” Jay looks at you apologetically, peeking his head out from the side of your hood and through your window. 

“Define dead dead.” You comment, taking your keys out of the ignition with a huff. 

“Like, you need a new battery. This one is done for.”

You sigh loudly, knowing that now you’ll have to go ask your parents for a ride home. Knowing that your dad is going to add more to his lectures with each day your car is sitting in this driveway. This is so fucking annoying. At least you work from home though, so it’s not like you’re gonna lose your job over this or anything. 

Jay unhooks the cables and turns off his car, then stands there and watches you for a moment. You look frustrated and annoyed, and it’s very much like him to offer more help. 

Of course it is. 

“Would it be too forward to ask if you need a ride home?” 

You look at him confused, tilting your head and studying his body language much like before. You’re not one to decline someone making your life a little bit easier, and he is interesting to talk to. You nod slowly, then pause.

“You’ve worked all day, don’t waste your off-time helping me out.”

“I’m already wasting my off time on you though, might as well let me drive you home too?”

You stare at him. 

“Okay.”

The awkward silence sets in shortly after you seat yourself in his car. You fill that silence with small sarcastic comments about said car though, and soon it becomes easy to be in the space with him.

“Where did this sticker come from?” You ask, poking your finger into a sticker with its edges rolled from the summer heat, probably.

“Ex girlfriend, I couldn’t get it off without it leaving a residue so I’m just letting the sun do its job and melt it off.”

“Oh, harsh.” You laugh, wanting to prod further. “Why’d you break up?”

Jay pauses, you can tell by the way his foot lets up from the gas momentarily that he wasn’t expecting you to ask that. Then again, he’s said some weird shit to you too, so you figure it’s not an end-all question. 

“Was that too forward to ask?” 

“Not at all, just wasn’t expecting it,” He shakes his head with a small smile, nearly reaching his hand from the wheel to pat your leg in reassurance. He holds back, wondering why the fuck that urge felt so normal for him to do. “It’s been like a year, so I’m over it and stuff. She just thought I worked too much and didn’t spend enough time with her.”

“Ouch, even harsher.” You smile in reassurance to him, also feeling it normal to want to do that for some reason. “Her loss, I mean, discounted dildos and food? Huge loss.”

He laughs at your comments, briefly looking over at you once he stops at a red light. Your eyes are shining with life, with interest even. At that moment, he feels something between the two of you. Which is quite strange considering this is your first time officially meeting him outside of his working hours. He can’t help the way his face softens though, it happens against his will, honestly, it does. 

“You’re kind of cute,” You blurt, breaking eye contact with him and shifting in your seat. “and fun to hang out with.” 

“Hang out?” He laughs at you, eyes now adjusting back to the road and lowering his speed just to have a bit more time with you. “This is hardly a hang-out, but if you’re interested, I’m more than willing to check my schedule to see when I’m free next.”

You feel confidence raise up in your chest, bubbling to be free in the form of a question likely too bold to actually consider.

“You’re free right now…right?” You comment quietly, glancing at him. 

“Hm?” He asks, tightening his grip on the steering wheel and feeling your eyes on him. He heard you, but he wouldn’t mind hearing you repeat it.

“I said, you’re free right now.” You repeat, this time with more confidence. “Would it be too forward to ask if –”

“Nothing is too forward to ask, I literally sold you a dildo.” 

You pause in shock, all thoughts leaving your head.

“Damn, alright,” You laugh, feeling kind of warm inside at how his forwardness matches your own. “If you’re free right now, we could hang out right now.” 

How lucky for both of you. He’s actually not catering tomorrow and only has to be at work at the good ol’ sex shop in the evening. 

“Alright,” He nods, glancing over to you. “Kind of fucked up we are hanging out after I met your entire family and still haven’t gotten a name from you yet though, wouldn’t you think?” 

Oh fuck, he’s right. 

“I’m sure you heard the kids yelling it all day. Don’t be dramatic.”

He laughs, already in love with the idea of spending more time with you. 

And you hear him echo your name, asking where it is that you’d like to go. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

If your parents were to ask why you’re walking through your apartment building with the caterer following behind you, you’d have no excuse. Then again, as an adult, you don’t think you need one. It’s strange despite how open and casual you are with making friends though, because you never just invite strangers to your place for friendship. At least, not without hanging out a few times first. 

You guess it’s not super awkward because it’s true that he already knows things about you that your family doesn’t. Such as, the things you penetrate yourself with when you’re alone. It’s a major ice breaker, and something that makes the friendship with him come easy even after barely talking to the guy.

The few words you have shared have been easy and fun, so it’s only natural that if your instinct is to want to be around him a little longer, you’d invite him in right? You weren’t really expecting him to accept your answer to his question. 

“Where to then?” 

You thought for a moment when he asked that. You don’t go to clubs or bars anymore, most places would have been closing within the hour, and it’s not like you didn’t eat to peak fullness during the family reunion so having a late dinner with him was out of the question too. You answered him so easily, and he accepted in a way that seemed just as natural to him. 

“We could just hang out at my place, I’ve got plenty of streaming services, a gaming system, and wine.”

“Sounds good.” 

It was so easy to become friends with him, and now with him following you up to your apartment, the typical awkwardness that should come with this type of thing isn’t swarming your mind at all. He’s even making small talk about the building itself after parking in your parking spot. 

“This building is way nicer than mine, you got a door code and everything just to get in.”

“Wasn’t always like this. Being a single woman in a city like this calls for safety measures though.”

A little box in his head checks out. He didn’t even have to ask if you’re single, because he already assumed you were with the way you so easily invited him over. And in all fairness, you’ve been trying to find a reason to slip in your relationship status to him. 

By the time you get to your door with him, he’s polite when he walks in and takes off his shoes. Polite in the way he looks around and studies your space, even polite in the way he walks into the living room and invites himself onto your couch and grabs your remote. 

“I was going to say make yourself comfortable but–”

“Well, would you prefer I sit on your floor?” He shoots back with a sarcastic tone in his voice. “Would you prefer I start digging through your cabinets for snacks? Would you prefer–”

“You’re so much more talkative when I’m not trying to buy something from you.” You comment with a laugh, dipping into the kitchen for two glasses and that cheap bottle of wine. 

“Speaking of, do you actually use that thing and like it? I mean, I see some weird purchases but that specific one is super popular with the fetish groups.”

For the first time, you feel heat rise to your cheeks. You should have known that the sex toy would be a point of conversation, considering the first time you ever met was buying it. 

“Yes, I use it. I’m surprised you find it shocking considering it’s literally your job to know what people like in terms of getting off.”

He smiles at that, because you’re damn right he knows. Most of the time he would prefer not to know, but he always did wonder if, on the off chance, he ended up hooking up with a customer he’d have some prior knowledge of how they like it based on toys alone. 

“You know, normally people don’t buy toys on a Monday at nine in the morning.” 

“I buy toys at nine in the morning on a Monday,” You chuckle, carrying the two glasses and wine into the living room and plopping down next to him. “Why does that matter? I’m sure you make your quotas even on the slow days considering how hard you were trying to up-sell me.”

He shrugs as he watches you pour him a glass. 

“It’s easy to up-sell when you know people’s kinks after a few purchases. I do that to everyone just to gauge what they need so if they come back I can make more offers.”

“A true salesman.” You laugh with a pitied voice. “What would you say my kink is?”

He studies you, looking you up and down without shame and thinking hard about your single purchase. 

“Well, considering that specific item is, again, usually looked at by a specific type of person or couple, I’d say–”

“Wrong.” You interrupt before he even tries to make a guess. “I don’t have a kink, I just have a really high sex drive.”

You take a sip at his silence of being beaten to the punch, and then he takes his own thoughtful sip. 

“Okay then, What do you think my kink is?” He asks slyly, cup still against his lips as he sips again. 

“Wha–” You narrow your eyes at him, trying not to stare at him for too long because goddamn is he handsome. “Hell if I know, you probably don’t even have sex after being in a hyper-sexualized space like that for hours on end.”

“Wrong.” He pokes his tongue into his cheek and looks away from you with another casual chuckle.

“Are you telling me you have a pocket pussy or like, a buttplug or something?”

“Three pocket pussies, actually.”

You don’t know why you’re shocked. For some reason his sex toys becoming the focus makes you feel more shy than your own being the focus. 

“I bet you named them.”

“Pocket 1, Pocket 2, and Jessica.”

“Jessica?” You raise a brow despite the sarcastic banter, wondering if maybe that’s based on his ex girlfriend or something. 

He nods in a matter-of-fact tone with a proud smile. 

You feel comfortable around him, never having a friend who openly talks to you about these things without any type of awkwardness. It’s the fact that he’s a man too. Usually they think with their dicks and he seems to have no qualms in admitting that it’s something he may do from time to time too. 

You imagine he needs this type of personality to work such a job though, being casual about sex can be so difficult for your average joe because for some reason, it is embarrassing. It’s hard to talk about even to sex-shop employees. You like to think he’s probably someone who makes others feel comfortable about their sexual habits though, because you feel comfortable. 

“I’m lying by the way.” He cuts through your thoughts, “I only have two.” 

You nod energetically with a laugh. 

“Variety is good.” You continue, not mentioning the array of toys you have stashed away. 

“Yeah, I think experimenting with different things is good. I only really liked the two I kept though, I guess.”

“And yet, you’re shocked about my single dildo purchase without knowing of my other items of interest? I could have just been trying something new too, y’know.”

Another sip of wine, and another glance away from him because you were looking a little too fondly at that little scar on his nose, the birth mark on his neck, the way his lips crease when he swallows his drink and– yeah, you definitely glance away.

“No one buys that as a first time experience.” He comments, tapping the cup against his lips and looking at you.

You’re a little stunned by him, never having met a man so open to speaking like this, with a woman he barely knows no less. 

“Okay, enough about my dildo. I actually have a question about something you might have in stock but I’ve kind of been too embarrassed to ask until now.”

He nods, his personality shifting only slightly into that as the manager of the sex-shop.

“Oh? Embarrassed? Since when?” He jokes at first. “What is it then?”

“Do you guys have like,” you pause, unsure of why you’re even trying to ask. Again, it’s not like masturbation is embarrassing, nor is the purchasing of toys. Asking for a specific item is a bit too intimate to you though, seeing as how you usually just buy those things online. “Okay hear me out.”

“Tentacles? Furry buttplugs with tails attached? Bondage rope? Paddles?”

“No…” You pause at his spewing of different types of toys. “I know you have all of that.”

He pauses, studying the way you make yourself a bit smaller compared to just minutes before.

“Do you guys have sex dolls for women? You know, like, just a doll with a very normal dick?”

Jay fucking snorts. How mundane. 

Unfortunately for you though, Nope. 

“Nah, the owner tries to cater more towards men and fetish stuff. We’ve got fem tantaly dolls and all sorts of blow up dolls but he’s never brought in just like, a torso with a cock, if that’s what you’re asking.”

You shrug. 

“Guess sticking it to the wall is all I can do for now then. But like,” You pause, realizing that you’re actually going into detail at this point, which might be a little uncomfortable for him? Maybe? “It’s really annoying to have it sticking to the floor, and you’re like, riding it and it just pops off and stabs your thigh slipping out mid-orgasm.”

He snorts again, that pretty smile you’ve seen time and time again echoing the most attractive laugh you think you’ve heard in a long time. This time, his smile doesn’t fade as the seconds pass, no. He’s unable to stop laughing at the image of whatever orgasm instilled the frustration in you to even mention that happening. He tries to stifle his laughter with the last sip of his wine before choking it down and pushing his glass at you for more. 

“Noted,” He snorts, nodding his head and almost hiding his face from you. “I’ll tell the boss we need male sex dolls so the women don’t get dick-stabbed where they don’t need it mid orgasm.”

You glare. 

“Wait, no, because it actually hurts.” You frown at him. “I just wish your shop catered a little more to women who just wanna ride a dick without the dangers of riding said dick.” 

“Maybe you should slow down next time so the full force of your–” He pauses, realizing how sexual the image in his head is of you right now. “Um…” He trails off uncomfortably, unintentionally adjusting himself in his jeans by spreading his legs slightly against your couch. 

“Okay, wait. I’m sorry, is this conversation too much right now?” You ask, looking him up and down and giving him a new glass of wine. “You’re blushing.”

He tries to play it off. 

“As if you could make me blush.” He laughs at you, downing half of his glass in one go. “To make up for our lack of product though, and if you don’t tell anyone, I’ll give you a discount on your next purchase just for embarrassing yourself telling me that.”

“Oh, I was supposed to be embarrassed?” You counter, knowing that all you need to do is point out that he got flustered to shut him up. You opt not to because still, the two of you barely know each other. Instead, you opt to laugh along with him, letting your gaze fall back to studying all of those features he has that you didn’t quite notice before.

While you did notice he was handsome before, it’s not like you paid that thought any mind. There are a lot of handsome men out and about after all. It only starts to matter when they allow you to get close enough to appreciate it more. Not to mention, in your experience at various sex shops, most employees of them are mundane and nonchalant. Some are strange old men, or cool old women. Jay though? Jay.

Hmm…how to explain him?

With his messy hair that covers his eyes every time he whips his head toward you in a laugh, with his sharp jawed smile and pretty eyes. The little marks and celestial kisses against his skin that shows you of a life he’s been living. He feels…warm. Like everything about him looks comforting, smells comforting, sounds comforting. And now, even compared to when you met him at the shop, even at the reunion just this afternoon…he’s so much more handsome in this moment. 

Learning his personality, hearing his voice say your name, having him take the time to not only help you but befriend you? 

His shoulders are broad, and he’s just… you don’t even know how to explain to yourself the attraction you have toward him at this moment. Handsome is one thing, and you would have continued calling him that if it weren’t for the fact that he’s laughing with you on your couch about a ruined orgasm. 

“You know, Jay,” You start, looking into your glass and swirling the liquid inside, then you look up again and make eye contact. “I’m really not usually this forward but like,”

His brain stops for a moment at the serious tone in your voice, his expression softens and you can tell he’s listening. 

“I know masturbation and stuff is normal, and like, you see and talk about these things all the time but I never really talk about it to other people, they always get weird about it.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. I can’t say this is the most normal hang out I've ever had. Usually we talk about our favorite movies or books or something.”

You wave him off. 

“Yeah, that’s a good point. We could talk about our favorite movies but I find myself, um–” You stop for a second. 

“Is talking about it making you realize that it’s uncomfortable?” 

“No, the opposite actually.” You laugh, now actually feeling embarrassed. “I keep thinking about you mentioning the other things you’ve bought and experimented with.”

“Oh? You’re curious?” He laughs, now feeling a bit shy himself because he’s pretty sure that’s you asking him to put images in your head. “I mean I could go into detail but it actually might be too-telling right now.”

You nod, unsure of why you even suggested.

“Maybe next time?” You change the subject with a smile, one that does seem slightly disappointed. 

“There’s a next time?” He smiles, setting his glass down on your table and shifting toward you.

“I don’t see why not? I’m having fun, plus you offered me a discount.”

He nods, looking around the room and checking the time. 

“I should probably head out then? We’ve both had a long day.” 

You nod back to him, feeling a bit sad. 

“When are you free next?” You ask, grabbing your phone in a way that seems a bit too excited. “Can you give me your number?”

He obliges, exchanging phone numbers and promising to contact you with his next free day or night to hang out. Just as he goes to leave though, for some reason both of you feel as though the satisfaction of this hang out wasn’t reaching full potential. 

“Hey, um,” He stops before he puts his shoes back on. “Would it be too forward to say I’m not tired and wouldn’t mind–”

“Staying for a bit longer?” You finish his sentence for him, patting the couch as if that was also on your mind.

He doesn’t even respond, and instead makes his way back onto the couch where the cushion is still warm, unable to help the fluttering feeling in his chest.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It's almost two in the morning by the time he offers to leave again, and yet, he stays at your clear disappointment of the offer. Another hour later, the two of you are sitting contently and pretending to watch some shitty tv show in comfortable silence. 

“We should say something.” He blurts, mid episode.

“What do you mean?”

He turns toward you. 

“We should talk about this.” He motions at the space between the two of you. 

You’re silent while you try to build up the confidence to meet him half-way again. 

“You can correct me if you’re not interested but I actually really would like it if you kissed me or something.” He adds as you continue to process what he seems to be getting at.

You’re taken aback by his forwardness for some reason, and instantly you knew he didn’t communicate this earlier for your own sake. Thankfully, you’ve tried to make it easy for him to read you and he ate it up like his favorite meal. The content feeling between the two of you was buzzing up to this point. Very loudly in your brain where you were thinking of how to kiss him before the night is up. Even as just a “thank you” if he were to turn away from it. 

“Oh yeah?” You ask, tilting your head and seeing him scoot closer. “Kiss you, or something?”

He nods his head, looking at you without much issue and searching for a reaction. 

“Are you interested in me like that, in any way?” He asks, looking for confirmation.

“Oh, most definitely.”

The smile that spreads across his face is one that you can argue will be unforgettable. It’s an expression you hope to bring to every person in your life, one that seems to express nothing but relief, excitement, and maybe even a hint of bashfulness.

“You thought I'd invite you inside without being interested?” You smile at him, feeling a little bit fuzzy in the head at the admittance. 

“I thought you were just being nice, or like, just interested in friendship,” He rambles on, stopping himself short to give more context to that statement. “I mean, it would be fine if this was all for friendship and I'm happy with that too but I can admit to coming into your apartment with maybe, uh, a small crush.” 

“I can admit to inviting you in with a small crush, maybe.” 

“Maybe.”

“Are we being too forward?” You ask, emphasizing the repetitive way that word seems to appear. “Even though you’re in my apartment at an ungodly hour and both of us are giving any and every excuse to keep you here?”

He smiles this time in a way that appears to be self-soothing, and you can imagine you are too. It’s always nerve-wracking to walk on eggshells with another person, the threat of wondering if you'll fall alone or fall with them into a new version of partnership. 

You don’t think about the lack of knowing him past a purchase, a quick conversation at a family reunion, or the past several hours he’s huddled up with you on this couch. You simply don’t think it’s strange at this point. After all, you’ve met people online and invited them over without much more than a name, age, and quick conversation about what they want sexually. How is this worse? How is this strange? 

“You’re right. Maybe we should stop being so polite when the reality of it is that I’ve been imagining what you’ve done with that toy since the day you bought it.” 

Okay, maybe that was too forward but all is lost now as your image of him changes drastically within the mere seconds it took him to say that, not in a bad way either. Again, of course he’s comfortable admitting it, the dude stares at dicks and holes all day. But now he’s staring at you, and talking directly to you.

Your silence makes him shift a bit, shaking his head apologetically. 

“Found the boundary, got it.” He shames himself with a timid voice, looking away from you and back to the tv with a hint of embarrassment. “I’m not lying though.” He adds after a few more minutes of your silence.

“Not much of a boundary if I admit that I was blatantly asking you earlier what you’ve done to experiment with your toys.”

“Aha! So I was right in thinking you were straight up asking for mind-porn of me?!” He feels instantly comfortable again, turning his entire body toward you as he folds up one of his legs to sit on with a little bounce. 

“Maybe, but what do you mean you’ve been imagining since I bought it? You barely made eye contact with me that day.”

“Oh, I was checking you out the whole time you shopped. Imagine my face when I knew exactly what toy you were reaching for.”

You shove him by the shoulder with a laugh, realizing that this is the first bodily contact you’ve ever had with him, but he actually leans into your shove rather than out of it. Meaning, he barely budges. 

“If I looked you in the eye at the register, you would have thought I was some pervert.” 

“You are a pervert. You said it had, what? Twelve other colors?” 

He shrugs with a pained smile at how cringe he must have sounded to you. 

“You seemed more like a sparkly pink girl rather than a normal flesh tone girl. Then again, this was before I knew you were looking for a literal male sex doll for super normal pretend-sex.”

You shove him again, your laugh coming out more forced now at the way he jokes with you. Once again, he doesn’t budge. In fact, he’s leaning in closer. 

“Now hold on, you didn’t mention anything about one having glitter in it.” You joke, wiggling your brows. 

“You trying to fuck a man or a magic unicorn?” He laughs yet again, all of it coming out more forced as the two of you drag out information just to hear the dirty words in a voice you’re only just realizing you like far too much. 

“A man.” You dead-pan, this time not laughing, looking him dead in the eye and trying to pretend you don’t notice how close the two of you have gotten. “Why else would I go for more human skin tones?”

“Fuck if I know, I haven’t met a single man who has vibration settings or rolling beads though.” 

You snort. 

“Shame…but also, why do you think I’m on the hunt for the most mundane sex toy a woman can buy now? The rolling beads almost had me passing out.” 

“Was it too much?” He asks seriously, hoping to god it was. 

“A little bit, yeah.”

“I can imagine you want something to feel real after that.”

For some reason, his words hit you straight in the gut. Your stomach drops as your attraction heightens, and suddenly you’re just staring at him as you respond. 

“I can imagine so, yeah.” 

He stares back, almost no space between the two of you as the banter only brought you both mentally and physically as close as possible without becoming twisted together. 

“When was the last time you felt something real?” He asks against his better judgment, wondering if you’re on the same page with him. Wondering if all this banter was leading to somewhere or nowhere. Because he could have sworn admitting to wanting you to kiss him, and you’ve yet to do so. 

“A month and a half.” You respond dryly, suddenly needing something to drink. 

He glances down at your neck when you swallow around your words, then stares at your lips before breathing in a sigh. One that was supposed to relieve the tension in this moment, but only building it more because he knows you see him do it. He knows you see him wet his bottom lip too.

“Are you going to kiss me, or are you planning to wait another month and a half to get what you want?” He continues on his streak of boldness as if to distract you from noticing the sexual tension, feeling his heart skip beats at the intensity of the moment. 

“It’s not like we have anything better to do.” You start, leaning in and still looking straight into his eyes.

“Are you suggesting that I’m boring?” He narrows his eyes as he feels your breath against his lips, still sweet from the wine that did close to nothing in terms of altering the brain. The two of you are totally planted into reality, if anything, a little drunk on the other. 

“Not at all.” You adjust your words from earlier, there, hovering just over his lips. “I’m just saying that nothing is more interesting than kissing you right now.”

Oh, the fluttering in his belly is so fucking intense right now. No eighteen inch alien tentacle dildo on a shelf could scare him as much as you do at this moment. Intimidatingly outspoken and aware of your wants and needs. His eyelashes flutter just like his stomach does, closing them slowly until he can feel your lips on his. 

Your stomach, on the other hand, has been doing flips since the first instance he admitted to wanting to stay. All of the tension, all of the comfortable silence, all of the glances, the smiles, the laughing, all of it was leading up to this. The moment your lips hit his, they feel much like you imagined they would. 

Soft, plush, warm. The thin lipped grins he’s given you all day now laying flat against your own lips, no longer grinning, now just wanting. And he’s gentle, so fucking gentle with it. Never has a man asked you to kiss him. Usually they close the gap to try and swoon you. It appears you’re both being swooned by each other at the moment though, and his soft kiss only pulls back momentarily before he leans forward, closer.

The third touch, save for you shoving him, his lips on yours, and now…his hand on your cheek. Caressing so gently as he deepens the kiss with ease. The heat rises up and through your skin at the simple touch. You think he must feel it with the way he chuckles into the kiss and starts peppering them against your lips over and over again. A split second between each lay of his lips, and then another solid kiss. One where you finally start moving yours too.

It’s slow and languid in the way he kisses you like this, barely even darting his tongue out but focusing more on your cheek against his palm. He can feel your jaw move as you kiss and can’t help but love what’s happening, and when you’re the one to lick against his lower lip, he falls in so easily. 

That little movement from you, that little feeling of your tongue experimentally prodding his lips open releases the last bit of tension holding him back. He pulls back to look at you and you’re not backing down even slightly. 

“Does this feel more real for you?” He asks in a snide way, swiping your bottom lip with his thumb of the glistening saliva before tilting his head with a smile. 

You very nearly roll your eyes at him for that. And by very nearly, you do roll your eyes at him and can’t help but smile yet again. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” He says, palm still against your cheek, tips of his fingers toying with the baby hairs on your hair-line. “because I can imagine that the toy couldn’t ki-”

You shoot forward to kiss him again, only just realizing how awkward the positioning is considering neither of you were probably expecting more than a first kiss. 

He laughs into it, knowing you were silencing him of something that could arguably be the most cringe-worthy thing he can say after kissing you. His laughs start to stifle though, as you press forward and somehow manage to have his back against the seat of the couch and you planting yourself on top of him. 

“Can you shut up about the toy now? I thought we got past that,” You argue as you pull back, your cheek already missing the feeling of his palm against it. “You can’t just act like this and then say some dumb shit like that.”

You’re joking, he knows it. If anything, you’re complimenting him right now and he eats it the fuck up as he stares up at you. 

“Was I wrong though?” 

You take a moment to look at him, realizing that this is the man who you just kissed. With his hair a mess and fanned out on the cushions, strands falling in front of his eyes, but mostly swept back and exposing the entirety of his forehead to you. 

You reach forward and brush a strand from his eyes. 

“Actually, say whatever you want.” You correct yourself and manage to ignore his question.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” He half-chuckles as he brings his hands up to sit against your waist, hoping you don’t pull out of the intimate position the two of you are in. 

“I don’t know, I was just looking at you and thought it would be stupid for me to try to argue with you right now.”

“Why’s that?” He prods for more compliments, feeling himself twitch at the way you look hovering over him. 

“Are you trying to argue right now?” You tilt your head, adjusting yourself now to sit directly on his thighs and lay forward, both hands cushioning your chin on his chest as you straddle him. 

“Would it be so wrong to admit that you’re fun when you argue with me?” 

You can feel him breathe under you, nearly rocking you further and further into whatever headspace Jay seems to put you in. It’s too comfortable, and it almost feels as though you’ve been with him for years now. You barely know him, yet you’re lying on him as if you got married two years ago. Insane how this works. How the heart works, or the brain, or whatever drives the arousal you’re feeling right now. 

“Will you argue if I ask to show you my room?” You start, lifting back up and away from his chest, now scooting forward a bit. You don’t dare sit on it yet, but you very much would like to if he were to suggest not moving at all from this couch. “My bed.”

He stutters and quickly quiets his excited words, replacing his voice with a nod and a sharp inhale.

“Hah! Telling me to argue and instantly buckling the second I mention my bed.” You laugh, pulling yourself up and sauntering out of his view.

He stares at the ceiling for a moment, in a daze over just how much he likes you. He wonders, would you be shocked to know he hasn’t had sex in much longer compared to you? One and a half months for you? That’s nothing to him. He’s been besties with his right hand for at least six months by now. Trust him when he says that it truly was difficult to not turn into a hormonal idiot when he saw you in the shop that day. 

Finally, he shakes himself out of the spaced out horny brain staring at your ceiling and stands to his feet. He’s quick to adjust the bulge in his jeans, uncomfortably shaking his leg before looking toward where you walked off to.

“Um.” He stops, realizing you were watching him, looking directly at the spot he just adjusted. “I mean,” He tries to start again, adjusting again as he feels it slowly move out from its tucked place. “Listen,”

“No, I get it.” You say, snickering at his embarrassment as if he somehow doesn’t know you were suggesting at least some foreplay by moving to your room.

“Of course you do,” He drops his head, now blatantly shoving his hands down his pants to adjust before looking back up and taking a step forward. “You’re the one who sat on me like that.”

“Please, I didn’t even sit on it.” 

“Didn’t need to.” He shrugs, now coming up to you and waiting for you to guide him through your space and into your room. 

Once the two of you get there, him not even attempting to hide that he is very aroused at this moment, you’re very quick to turn and face him once he comes inside. 

“We are on the same page, right?” You ask, looking at his lips and the way they still look so kissable. 

“As far as I know, with all things considered.” He responds, looking down at himself and how pathetic he must seem in getting so aroused by nothing more than a kiss and a position change. 

You smile, reaching for his hand and watching him tumble forward to you. Now standing mere inches in front of you. 

“Do you want to see it?” You ask, a cheeky smirk on your face as you turn away from him and run to your bedside table. 

He has no idea what the fuck you’re referring to until he sees it. There, in all of its non-human glory. Jay ticks his tongue, curiously straining his neck out to peek at what else is in your drawer as he walks closer. 

You make no attempt to close the drawer and instead pull out another one, and another one, another one.

“If you keep pulling out toys I’ll start to think you were lying in saying you wanted to feel something more, um–”

“Real?” You say, turning from your presented line-up of toys to look at him. 

He nods, gazing over the toys, four dildos all far bigger than he is. 

“I can admit that men can’t vibrate, nor do they have those little rotating beats but,” You chuckle at the conversation, scooping the toys up quicker than you laid them out and tossing them back into the drawer. “They’re not warm, or attached to someone that can kiss me. They’re also not witty.”

You study his expression.

“They don’t make me laugh before getting me off.” You continue, wondering if you may actually be too forward about this now. 

He’s rendered a bit speechless, which is rare for him in any given situation. He always has a quick response, not at this moment though as he looks at you. He wonders if you pity that obvious act of self-doubt upon seeing your toys. 

“They’re not attached to you.” You add, this time stifling your chuckle, because it’s a pretty funny conversation if you look at it from the outside but you can imagine he must be feeling some type of way to be so quiet.

He thinks hard about it, knowing damn well where this was leading and pushing for it himself. Hearing you now though, so confidently say these things, all doubt erases from his mind. 

“Before we do anything,” he starts, his shaky voice coming out more confident as he continues. “Is this just a hook-up to you or are you feeling the way I’m feeling right now?”

You look at him with a question in your eyes. He was kind of shocked that you didn’t finish for him this time, actually. 

“Like, you know if we do this, I’m going to be calling to take you out to dinner at some point unless you say you don’t want me to, right?”

You hadn’t thought of anything past him since you’ve gotten here. You didn’t think about anything more than hanging out with him, and now, kissing him, and maybe you know, feeling him. For some reason though, despite the lack of sex you’ve had lately, him saying that only arouses you more. It’s been so long since you’ve intended to sleep with someone and have them want to stick around after. Some of the people you’ve been with didn’t even ask for your number. Is this what adult relationships are actually like? 

“As in, you’d want to see where this goes in the–”

“Future, yes. I’m not just going to fuck you and pretend I didn’t when I see you again.”

Shockingly, that’s a first for you and you like the feeling it gives you. Plus, him implying that he’s about to, or very willing to, fuck you sends a wave of fondness through you.

“Alright. Let’s not call it a hook up then.” You say, the playful arousal from before stifling out at the idea of being intimate with someone who is making you aware that you’ll see him again, now being replaced with…feelings? Arousal with feelings?

“What should we call it?” 

“A date?” You say back immediately, sitting on your bed and finally closing your bedside drawer. 

“Oh, you fuck on the first date?” 

You laugh at how quickly his wit comes back, especially with the way he crowds up and stands in front of you. 

“With you? Looks like it.” You smile wide for him, feeling the tension bleed away and replace itself again with the arousal of him standing and looking down at you. 

“How did we not meet earlier?” He asks, leaning down a bit as if to kiss you.

“Fuck if I know, I bought all of those toys at your shop.”

“Ah, right. Nine in the morning on a Monday. I don’t usually work mornings.”

“Guess I got lucky last time then.”

“I guess you did.” He adds like a period to a sentence, finally kissing you again and making no effort to hide the fact that he’s attempting to lay you down much like you did to him before. 

You let him, falling back on your bed and feeling him nudge your legs to spread. Again, you let him, feeling your heart begin to race with excitement in the way he kisses you now versus how he did it earlier. 

There is clear intent behind it this time, as he positions himself between your legs. Your heart only races faster when one of his hands slides down your arm and he tangles his fingers with yours. It’s all very intimate to be coming from a man you officially met today, but you really do feel lucky. 

Lucky that he works two jobs, lucky that your family throws lame ass reunions every five years, lucky that you left your headlights on during a sunny sunday afternoon, lucky that your battery died. 

It’s so normal already to smile into the kiss and feel giddy inside. Never have you smiled into a kiss save for laughing when a leg cramp happens mid-fuck. You can’t believe how much you’ve smiled and laughed today, and you can’t believe he’s making you react this way just by holding your fucking hand and kissing you this way. 

He laughs when you react though, probably feeling at ease on your bed with you under him, squeezing your fingers tightly each time he licks against your tongue. And when he pulls back to breathe, you just look at him and the way his hair hangs in front of his eyes. He looks so pretty at this angle, even when he’s moving slowly, even when his other hand remains planted beside your head to hold his weight from falling onto you. 

It’s not been since highschool that you’ve laid with someone simply making out, fully clothed, giggling. You’re unsure of how he’s pulled this out of you, because usually when a man is on top of you, you’re already trying to get his clothes off. But this? This is something that you want to last. You want it to be slower than a usual fuck, because you like when he’s here with you. Whether on top of you or not, there was a reason he’s stayed this late already and you already know it wasn’t solely to fuck you.

“Did you expect to be on top of me someday?” You ask between kisses, and he takes that as an invitation to laugh against your neck and tickle your cheek with his messy hair. 

“Expect it? No,” He starts, leaving a kiss just under your ear before lowering his lips to the collar of your shirt and kissing there too. “Hoped I could, though.” 

Your heart swells up at that. You realized he must have meant it when he admitted to having a small crush on you. Only now do you realize that the curiosity that brought you back up to the food-table during the reunion may have been the start of a crush on your end too. 

You don’t say anything more after that and instead fall into the feeling of his lips kissing along your collar. For some reason the sensation of his lips pushing the fabric out of the way so he can kiss new exposed skin makes you feel incredibly wanted. Maybe it’s the pace, or maybe it’s just because you really really like him, and want him to want you. 

“Do you want to take it off?” You ask after a few more of his kisses, wanting to control yourself but also very much wanting to feel his lips everywhere else too. 

You can feel him nod in the form of his hair tickling your cheek more. But he doesn’t move from that spot at first, continuing to kiss you the same way and in the same places. You let him, up until he finally sighs and pulls back. 

Looking at him now, even compared to a few moments ago, he looks even more pretty. His eyes are now soft, you can almost see the lines from where he’s smiled for you all day. His lips, looking more kissable than they did the past two times you thought they looked as kissable as they ever could. His eyebrows, showing no signs of tension but permanently arched in a way that makes him appear constantly moody. 

You’re staring and you’re not intending to hide it. Even as he lifts your shirt from your waist and starts to pull it up. You barely budge as you stare, and stare, until you can’t because he’s trying to pull your shirt over your head.

“If you’d stop staring for two seconds maybe I could get this off of you–” He smiles knowingly, finally pulling it off when you arch your back and then prop yourself up slightly with your hands. “There.”

He sighs when he says it, going silent and almost frozen at the image of your nearly-naked torso. You watch him stare now, a smirk forming all too quickly.

“Now look who’s staring.” You chuckle, noting that his eyes still don’t leave the newly exposed skin or the fabric of your bra.

“Yeah, I am.” He admits, wetting his lower lip again and then flicking his eyes to you. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Suddenly, that eye contact makes you feel shy. You’re more naked than he is, despite mostly being dressed still.

“You know,” you start, avoiding his intense eye contact just to get the words out. “If we just take all of our clothes off now, it would probably be easier.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle at you but nods, already lifting his shirt off and going for his zipper and button.

“There’s no rush, but if you’d prefer we do,” He scoots back and away from you, standing to his feet to shove his jeans down his legs. “I don’t mind.”

You watch him undress and lose all ability to act on your own for a solid thirty seconds before you finally start panic-shimming the rest of your clothing off. Save for bra and panties, and he, now standing there clad in only a pair of form-fitting briefs. 

You’re glad he isn’t as shy as you at this moment though, or rather, he appears to be entirely infatuated with your body and doesn’t look away from it for even a moment to feel embarrassed himself at standing on the side of your bed nearly nude. 

“No rush?” You ask, when he finally trails his eyes up to you and takes his position between your legs from earlier. Except now, you can see his biceps and the way they flex, now, you can feel the immense amount of warmth radiating from him. Now, his hair is even more of a mess.

“I can try,” He says quietly, balancing on one hand and lowering his lips to yours once more, trying to ignore how dangerously close his length is to bumping against your core. “No promises now, though.”

You smirk, wondering where he lost his self control within that short span of time where you got undressed. He cuts your chuckle off mid-way though, now kissing you again and moving his hand up and down your waist. It tickles and causes goosebumps to form all over you, to the point that you can’t help but sigh into his kiss. 

He continues, still holding his hips back from grinding against you, kissing you as good as he can until trailing back to your neck again. 

It’s not until you run your fingers through his hair that he sighs himself. That relief and heavenly feeling of your fingers scraping the back of his neck— such a simple touch can literally send him straight to hell at this point and he wouldn’t care a single bit as long as it’s from you and your hands. 

He lowers himself more, just to prevent his hips from intruding into this moment only to lock his lips onto the mound of your breast, other hand lowering so he can lay down and push your bra to the side a bit. 

The cold air that hits your nipple is short-lived when you feel him immediately suck it into his mouth with a deep breath. You continue to scratch through his hair, now using your other hand to nearly hug his head in place as you feel the sensations shoot straight between your legs. Each flick of his tongue sends signals to your brain to go! go! go! But much like him, you hold back, even though your legs still manage to squeeze his body between yours in an attempt to find the friction he isn’t yet offering. 

He continues this for a few minutes, and then works his fingers under the bra on the other side of your chest before switching his lips to that one. Perking them up so perfectly that he can graze his teeth against either nipple and feel your legs react to it. All of it is turning him on beyond belief, it’s dangerously attractive to him now too, to know that you have several toys that could have already gotten you off by now, but you choose this. You choose his lips playing with your tits, and your legs doing an amazing job of showing him your lack of control. After all, toys can’t give you the foreplay that he can.

His lips continue their work, up until he’s trailing further and further down, making your sighs hitch higher and higher in pitch. He kisses your waist, just above your belly button, then just below your belly button before leaning back.

There, he looks directly at the seat of your panties and smiles at the wet spot there. He plants a kiss right in the center of your mess  before climbing back up and caressing your cheek again. 

“You’re wet.” He comments in a huskier voice than he normally uses, balancing yet again on his other arm.

Goddamn, if this is how he sounds when he’s with a girl then you feel more lucky than before. You can’t imagine the amount of women who have fallen completely in love with this guy. And, before you can actually respond to him with another cheeky comment, his hand on your cheek disappears and is instantly between your legs, cupping you there and even scooting you up the bed with the force of how he grabs you.

You hitch out a sigh and look at him with a smile.

“Obviously.” You say back, rolling your eyes playfully before unintentionally bucking your hips into the pressure his palm offers against your clit. 

“Cute too.” He adds, lifting his palm to run his fingers up the wet spot on your panties before pressing in slightly. 

You can feel the fabric stick to you uncomfortably, but it still feels so fucking good. Any amount of touching from him feels good, if you’re being honest. 

“And you’re teasing me.” You argue, looking away from his smirk as he plays with the wet fabric against his fingers. 

“Just ask. I’m not teasing you if you're not telling me what you want.” 

You shoot your eyes back to him, a mixture of curiosity and shock in your eyes. It’s true though, you are a little shocked. Most men really just do what they want, and so do you. Never have you been asked what you want. 

Your eyes trail down as far as they can, what his hand is doing is mostly hidden between your legs but you focus entirely on the way his arms flex as his fingers travel up and down your panties. 

“You want me to ask?” You question, hips bucking up again unintentionally. 

“Not so much ask, but like, tell me what you want.”

He nods to himself as he says it, licking his bottom lip and pressing the fabric of your panties in yet again. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to do what he wants right now though, definitely not. He just figures you know your body far better than he does, and he’d rather not make assumptions and embarrass himself when you could just ask him or better, guide him. Who is he to assume you want his fingers right now anyway?

“I’ve never…” You start, swallowing your words as your brain goes back to focusing on his fingers momentarily. “I haven’t–”

He knows what you’re trying to say, so he attempts to make it a bit easier for you. 

“Do you want me to pull your panties to the side?” 

You sigh with a nod, looking at him and allowing him to guide you through telling him what you want.

“Do you want me to touch you?” 

You nod again, pushing your head back against the mattress out of frustration that you, for some reason, can’t find the words to just tell him yourself. 

He listens to your body though, more than your weak nods and frustrated sighs. The way your legs shake when he asks, the way you react to the air hitting your folds when he does push your panties to the side. He can’t bear to look down yet though, because he knows for a fact that if he were to pull back and look at you in full, he’d no longer be asking you what you want. He’d be embarrassing for sure. 

You can feel his fingers now sliding through your folds though, bare pussy out and on display but not yet being looked at, only being felt. And arguably, all you can do right now is feel too, as he leans forward to kiss you in this silent moment. 

His fingers continue to explore as he kisses you, collecting all of your arousal and swirling it around your clit before sliding back down and prodding at your entrance. You make a sound at that, kissing him a little harder than before when he lets out a hum.

“Hm?” He hums against your lips, and you nod to him. 

There, he dips a finger in only slightly. Your arms reach around his neck at the feeling and pull him closer to you. To the point that you can feel him struggle to angle his hands right to slide in deeper, but you pay no mind to it. At least not until you kiss the fucking daylights out of him.

That, you do. Kissing him with full-force and making a show of how turned on you are for him. He feels it, with or without your kiss bruising him. The wetness on the tip of his finger only becomes wetter, and when you release your grip around his neck, he still doesn’t leave the kiss.

He goes back to gently kissing you, focusing more on his fingers than what his tongue is doing. He slides that same finger in all the way now, feeling your walls clench almost instantly and beg for more. Chuckling at the feeling, he fucks his finger into you experimentally before pulling them out and adjusting two fingers at your entrance. 

“Hm?” He hums again, and you nod again.

So, two fingers slide in and you’re releasing a soft moan against his lips. Already out of breath from focusing so hard on how he feels when he touches you. Your lips fall slack just to catch that lost breath, and he doesn’t argue, going right back to that spot on your neck to kiss as he picks up rhythm with his fingers. Effectively fucking you open with them as you cling to him.

You hate to say you didn’t pay much attention to his hands until now. Having not noticed how deep just those two digits reach inside of you, and good fucking lord does he know how to use them too. Curling them up at just the right moment to have your legs shaking. 

Never have your legs fucking shook for a man. This only happens with the g-spot stimulating toys. God, you open your eyes to look at the ceiling in thought, and it has you wondering if he even knows he’s doing it. 

“Keep doing that–” you urge him, and he hums at you finally at least trying to tell him what you want. 

He finally lifts from your neck to look at you, now placing his weight back on that one free arm that had been toying with the ends of your hair this entire time, and he’s fucking floored. Even if he pictured you before with those toys, none of those images came close to this. And it’s just his fingers? No where near the size of your toys, no where near as expensive, or warm…or alive.

Oh. You want to feel someone who wants you. 

“I’ll do anything you want.” He says, doing exactly as you asked except a little faster, still hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly that you’re moaning out now. 

He tunes in entirely to the sounds you’re making, the faces you’re making, and the way your pussy clenches around just those two fingers. He is aching at this point, pulling back from hovering over you to sit now between your legs, fingers still keeping pace, and sliding his other hand down his briefs. 

You don’t notice at first, too enthralled by the feeling of his curling fingers inside of you, but when you do–

“God,” You moan, rolling your eyes at the image of him out of breath, both hands working to pleasure both of you. “Come here.”

He listens, already pulling his hand away from himself but keeping his fingers in you, in a daze as he takes his original position of hovering over you.

“No, I mean, come here.” You say, looking at him as you reach between your bodies and pull his fingers out of you, then reach to grab between his legs. 

He immediately moans at the feeling, his hips pressing harshly into your grip with a whine as he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes just to feel it. 

“Pull it out.” You continue, slowly becoming more and more comfortable telling him what you want. 

Just watching him do what you ask is insanely hot. The way he pulls his cock out seems so natural to him, you suddenly imagine what he must look like all alone while getting himself off. Thankfully though, he’s not all alone right now, he’s with you, and you intend to be getting him off. 

You look at him, between his legs, and then back at him once more before grabbing it again and practically pulling his hips to you by the cock. He groans all the same at it though, and only holds his breath when he feels your legs spread further and essentially press his cock between your folds and hold it there from the head. 

“Grind.” You say, still holding your hand in place to keep the pressure against him, which also puts pressure against your clit when he does grind up.

You both shiver at it, and he still looks down at you, fucking smiling through his sighs of relief regarding the new sensations you’re offering. 

“You’re actually fucking perfect.” He compliments, fucking his hips up and coating his cock with the dripping of your needy cunt. 

Out of everything he’s ever said to you up to this point, out of everything he’s fucking done to you, that’s the one thing that has you spiralling into a world of fire. It makes you feel so warm, especially with the head of his cock bumping your clit. He has barely gotten any friction and he is still calling you perfect? Sign you the fuck up, forever, actually. 

“Don’t be stupid,” You start, waving him off between moans and gripping his shoulders.

He grinds up harder at your words though, now propping himself up on his elbows and grabbing your face on both sides. 

“You, don’t be stupid.” He says clearly, pointing his thrusts directly at your clit and moaning only slightly as he looks at you.

You swear, at that moment he could see your entire life. Everything about you. Everything you love and hate. The way he doesn’t look through you but at you? 

“You’re actually insane.” You laugh, crumbling to his pointed gaze and thrusts, your legs automatically shooting up to wrap around his waist. 

He seems proud of being called insane right now. Mostly because he can come up with at least fifty reasons as to why this is anything but insanity, but he remains quiet at the feeling of your legs squeezing around him. 

Such a girl was looking for mundane sex toys to have normal sex with? Lucky you, this is his fucking favorite. Plain ‘ol missionary? Check. Legs squeezing around him, almost pulling him in? Check. Looking directly at the face of the person he wants to make feel good? Check. 

You barely notice his lack of control by this point, the closeness alone feels like you’re already having sex but you realize you’re entirely empty still. This is fine though, until it’s not.

When does it not become fine? When his confident moans turn to soft sighs, and you notice his arms shaking a bit to hold his weight above you, and when his eyes go dead staring at you. You can tell he’s focused entirely on the feeling between the two of you, doing nothing more than aggressive yet…weak grinds? 

“Jay,” You say, slightly out of breath. 

“Hm?” He responds half-heartedly, releasing his weight from one elbow and dropping his head between your neck and shoulder.

“Fuck me.”

It’s like you can feel the switch in his head go from losing sanity to gaining it back in an instant at those words. He felt like he was pleasuring himself against you for so long, with so much friction between your hand and his abdomen constantly pressing into it. He could have gotten off from this, if you wanted him to anyway. It would have been an intense orgasm after working up for so long too, but now? 

He doesn’t even say anything, he doesn’t even move his head from between your neck and shoulder. Instead, you feel him expertly adjust his hips and press in without much trouble. He finds exactly where he belongs so fucking fast that is has you spinning and clenching immediately. 

“Shit,” He drones out with a long sigh, slowly sinking his cock into you. “You’re throbbing.” 

You chuckle, because yeah. You definitely are, but so is he. You can feel his thick length spreading you open inch by inch, until he’s fully planted into you and twitching. Then he doesn’t move again.

“This alone could do me in,” He chuckles against your neck, breathing in a deep sigh and attaching his teeth to your lower ear lobe. “Honestly, I can't believe I didn’t already cum  just from having my fingers in you.”

You’re both flattered and shocked by this comment, before you can even think to respond he’s talking again.

“You’re so tight, so wet.” He soothes himself through the feeling of your walls clenching around him by explaining how good your pussy feels, not yet wanting to move and just wanting to feel what your body does to him on its own. “It’s so hard not to move right now.”

“Please,” You manage to get out, struggling to focus on just one thing with the way he’s talking and the way he sits so perfectly inside of you. “Please, move.”

And he does, instantly. Pulling out and sliding back in so easily that the slapping sound is muted entirely by the matching moan you both release. You can feel his voice vibrating against your neck, and you can imagine he might be able to feel yours through your pulsing walls, because it feels like every sound, touch, and sensation is sent straight there for him to enjoy. 

It doesn’t stop either. Both of you shamelessly moaning at the feeling of him snapping his hips into you at perfect speed, with a perfect voice, and a perfect hand moving up to grip your chest. 

He’s practically blanketing you with his body, your legs holding him in this spot, his hair still finding a way to tickle your cheek with each thrust in. It’s so fucking much. It’s so good, and so…comfortable.

You’re comfortable. So comfortable you don’t even feel the need to rub your clit, you don’t want to chase the orgasm, you just want to feel him. And apparently, he’s still on the same page with you. 

When he lifts his head, kissing the bottom of your chin and then your lower lip, still the two of you are groaning at each deep thrust in, but he manages to talk through it, somehow.

“Don’t stop,” he says, despite you barely doing anything. “Keep doing that.” He continues as his thrusts pick up pace. 

Only now do you realize that you were doing something. Without noticing, your hands were nearly tearing his back apart. Not literally, but your nails may have dug in a few times. Normally, once you notice doing that, you would stop because normally men don’t want the trace of another woman on him. Jay though, he’s in love with the idea that you’ll leave a mark. 

Obsessed with the sting of it, really, loving the idea of going to his night-job tomorrow and staring at all of the toys that don’t offer you a back to hold onto like this. 

You do as he asks much like he does for you, gripping him so tightly that your nails have no choice but to leave half-moon shapes on his skin. Each thrust drags your fingers up, down, up down, and with each thrust it somehow feels deeper, harder, hotter.

When he releases your chest from his other hand and puts it back to your cheek, caressing much like he has each time he’s focused on kissing you, you think you’re a fucking goner. 

As expected, he kisses you at that moment and thrusts once, hard, before holding himself there.

“I’m really close,” He whispers apologetically between kisses, “tell me how to get you there with me.”

You smile when he kisses you again instead of letting you answer, but you fall into it much like he does and you opt to grab that hand on your cheek and guide it to your clit. 

Instantly, he’s rubbing harsh and sloppy circles around it, and you reward him for the perfect work of his fingers yet again with your fingernails digging into his back. He softly moans at that, and you swallow it up all too easily. 

Tensing your muscles, his fingers on your clit work you up so quickly that you barely warn him of your oncoming orgasm, even as his cock sits leaking and heavy inside of you. You don’t even know how to tell him, all you can do is frantically moan out shortly.

“I’m–” 

Instantly his hips are back at work, barely even thrusting but instead remaining buried into you for the most part. He pulls out an inch and slams back in, wanting your orgasm to get him off more than his own movements. And fuck, it does.

The way you clench when you reach your high, slack lips against his own, he releases at what he could argue is the best possible time. Your tenses muscles work him up perfectly, gently massaging his cock as he releases in full without too much overstimulation. 

And you. You have never gotten off with a man staying mostly still inside of you. Actually, you’ve only gotten off that way with toys because nothing beats getting off while completely full. Jay really is something, or, someone. 

The two of you release together, and his lips fall slack just like yours do. The kissing turned to that of desperate, orgasm-fogged moans into the other’s mouth. For some reason, it was incredibly hot to you that you both reacted that way. So insanely drunk on the other that nothing felt embarrassing.

Even the way his fingers moved on your clit through your orgasm, he somehow knew when to go and when to stop. 

Even now, as your orgasm tapers off, you are so blissfully aware that you want to immediately fall asleep even with him inside of you. Jay is polite though, and gently pulls out with a small apology of the mess. 

When he looks at you, looking so sleepy under him, maybe it translates to him too and he instantly yawns but tries to be strong for both of you.

“We should clean up.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

There wasn’t even a question in your head when he slept over that night. He didn’t even hint at leaving. Nor did he hint the morning after as you groggily opened your computer for your daily work. 

He did hint that he would miss you when he eventually had to go to his own house and get ready for an evening at the sex-shop. He also hinted a few times at feeling like, when he looked at you, you weren’t a brand new person in his life. Part of you wonders if that’s because maybe you want to be permanent in his life from now on.

Later that night, he came back. Bright eyes and a stinging back.

For some reason, you feel it’s safe to say that neither of you can stand being apart for too long. So yeah, maybe this is what a normal relationship is like. If, you know, you were in a relationship with him.

Ironically enough, only a few days later that relationship is established in the form of a new car battery and a bottle of lube that he bought for you. 

Not that you need it. (The lube.)

[emphasisonthehomo]

Twitch Streamer Tommy, because apparently I still have thoughts on him being one of those dudes who's into Flight Simulator.

Buck mostly starts out watching the streams because Christopher watches streams. Buck and Eddie have had discussions with Chris about how much info he should be sharing with strangers on the internet, it was a whole thing. Chris can watch them without being monitored, neither of them are helicopter parents, but Buck does in general keep tabs on them. Because he's constantly reading shit about someone w/ fame on the internet taking advantage of it.

There's a variety to the ones that Chris watches, but all of of them are for games that he already plays. Except one. Some guy called REMOVEB4FLIGHT and it's straight up just Flight Simulator content. There's not a ton of consistency to when the guy streams, it's all over the place schedule wise. Maybe once or twice a month, and he's clearly not a Professional Streamer™ so much as a guy with a hobby. His set up is crazy though.

And sometimes Christopher watches them when Buck is in eyesight, and yeah. Buck won't lie. He's interested. He became legitimately invested when REMOVEB4FLIGHT sat down and simulated a flight from JFK International Airport to Singapore Changi Airport, and it was just under 19 hours.

Buck didn't watch the entire thing, don't be stupid. But he did watch the last 4 hours which... Shut up. It should have been boring, but there was enough going on between the chat and REMOVEB4FLIGHT that it wasn't.

And it was also cute. The guy was cute. He was already obviously tired by the time Buck and Christopher started watching, and as he got more tired he got gigglier and gigglier. Explaining that "No. No pilots will ever fly 19 hours straight, I'm just doing it because I thought it'd be a fun challenge and oh nooooo do I regret it. My only goal is to be coherent enough to not crash land this A350."

The plane does not crash land and at the end, REMOVEB4FLIGHT runs his hands through his curly hair, laughs in exhaustion, and says "Great, I'm gonna go sleep for 12 hours because I've got a shift in 14. BYE."

And Buck keeps watching after that, when he can. There's something calming about it, in a weird way. It's both is and isn't ASMR. Any ASMR is absolutely on accident, but the guy has a really nice set up, a really nice mic. And a really nice voice. And a really nice face. He explains in detail what he's doing and why, like he's giving a casual lesson on How To Fly.

Buck learns that the his name is Tommy, and he is actually a pilot but he flies helicopters and that's "-the only other information you need about my day job."

Not all of Tommy's streams are 19 hours, though they're still long. A lot of them are him being like "What's the weirdest place I can land this thing?" or messing around in multiplayer. Maybe something where he tries to recreate relatively famous crash landings, like one day he goes "We're Gimli Gliding it today" and he does crash pretty badly the first time, but he gets it on the second.

It becomes a thing Buck and Christopher talk about, because they both keep up with it. Chris starts pestering Eddie to get him a joystick and pedals to play Flight Simulator, but those aren't exactly cheap so Eddie promises it for xmas. Buck is already stewing over how to potentially adjust settings and shit to make sure that the inclusion of foot pedals isn't an issue for Chris, etc etc.

Sometimes when Buck is part of the Chat Conglomerate Tommy comments on something he's said. It makes him giddy. It's difficult to describe. He just likes this guy. This guy's cool. Buck's getting attention from someone on the internet, sue him. He likes it.

And then the drama with the cruise ship. Buck doesn't think anything of it when Chimney reaches out to an old friend named Tommy, because why would he? It's a common enough name. But then Buck walks into Harbor Station and comes face to face with REMOVEB4FLIGHT and oh. Oh shit.

[renhanaschewtoy]

What about some Lawrence headcanons? I'd love to hear if you have any ))

Yay! My first ask💕 Sorry if these are scattered or short or all over the place, I got excited and did this at work lol

Oh, dear, sweet Lawrence... I'll never stop being salty that he cold clocked me outside of the bar lmao I panic on quick time events. Caught me on my back foot lol

°King of always having bruises and not knowing where they came from. Was it from work? Is it just his fucked up body? Was it you? He couldn't have bumped his desk that hard, surely? But any day, any time- there's a few random bruises all the time of varying shapes, sizes, and color.

°While Lawrence hates going out due to his sociophobia, I could see him really liking botanical gardens. He definitely has learned what times are the least crowded or shit...after a while, might even just break in when they're closed. It's quiet, it's serene. Lawrence can take some of the plants home, precisely pruning carefully to propagate if he finds himself fond of them. In the same vein, I wouldn't put it past him to also slip some fucked chemicals to kill other plants or prune some to the point of withering should be feel so inclined.

°He likes collecting bones and rocks, could see Lawrence passing time by making shadow box art with the bones he collects. Rot is a part of death, it's the natural cycle, it's beautiful- it deserves to be celebrated to.

°Lawrence prefers honey to maple syrup. Given he's a tea guy, he's got a variety of different honeys, different flavors. He's not a charitable guy but he's gotten quite a few "save the bees" stickers with purchases and maybe got so high he donated a couple of bucks to some random bee conservation cause. Lawrence has no recollection of this.

°Roadkill Scrapbook. Idk, Lawrence strikes me as the guy who early on and before he got into what he got into and even had a real grasp on it- was really into just staring at and studying roadkill. And one thing lead to another where Lawrence photographs it for keeps. Dates them and adds notes as he seems fit

°When alone, prefers to masturbate in the shower. For efficiency, but really, it's to feel warm. Idk I feel Lawrence's body runs cold and given some of his... proclivities- it's a pleasant change up. Until you come around. Low key I could see this feeding into a bit of a temperature play or kink once he gets a taste.

°Works in a warehouse? Forklift certified. (I'm sorry I couldn't resist)

°Smokes more than he drinks but despite the bar scene, Lawrence likes Gin. Simple gin and tonics but I think he'd like a negroni if he ever went to a place that served them. For smoking tho? If he is going out or has something arduous to do, whatever- he does dab. It isn't so much that he likes it better or prefers it- it just gets the job done better, harder.

°Loves asphyxiation. On himself, on you. You're a bit more delicate though. Not that the science matters too terribly to him. Owns one very sturdy belt that's creased in a specific areas.

°Big fan of somnophilia. I don't need to elaborate.

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #61 – Those Across The River by Christopher Buehlman

Months and months ago, I asked for recommendations on books that actually tried to make werewolves horrifying instead of just some variety of urban fantasy or romance archetype. Those Across The River was one of the few real recommendations I got, and then spent most of the year languishing on my To-read shelf until I had entirely forgotten why it was there. It does very much fit the requirements asked of it, and in concept is really quite a juicy idea. Unfortunately, it’s rather let down b execution here – both in terms of prose and of content.

Frank Nichols is a historian – or was one, anyway. After an affair with a college's wife named Eudora becomes public and he responds by running away with her, his career prospects take something of a swan dive. And in the midst of the Great Depression, there are far more wannabe academics than there are jobs for them. So, after living for a time with his brother in Chicago, the two of them move down south to take up residence in the small southern town his mother fled as soon as she was able, where Dora might at least draw a salary as a school teacher. And, more importantly, where Frank can research his great-grandfather, a confederate planter killed by his own slaves in the last days of the Civil War whose ruined plantation lies somewhere nearby, to write the biography that will restart his career.

Times are tough there too, and soon after the pair of them move in there is a town meeting where it’s agreed to end the monthly tradition of driving a pair of hogs across the river to thank God for their good fortune. While God doesn’t seem to mind much one way or the other, the creatures living in the woods who had made feasts of those pigs certainly do, and on the next full moon raid the outskirts of the town to make their displeasure known. From there, things just about only get worse.

So as mentioned, this is the vanishingly rare sort of story made in the last couple of decades that take ssomething recognizable as werewolves and actually tries to play them straight as something awful, threatening, and horrifying. I think this mostly works – there’s only a scene or two I’d really call horrifying, but then with books that’s an incredibly high bar for me. It manages the tone and atmosphere of a proper horror story throughout, and never lets the werewolves stop being strange an dangerous.

A large part of this is, I’m sure, just the fact that no one in the story is even the tiniest bit genre-savvy or awae of what a ‘werewolf’ is, as a cultural figure. Beyond providing the isolation and lack of outside forces that might help, the period setting does an incredible amount of work in just making it plausible that no one in the story was aware of what kind of story they were in. This is actually probably the first straightforward monster horror story I’ve read or seen in a while that wasn’t in some way trying to comment or make cute references to the wider genre.

The period setting is, werewolves aside, easily the most engaging thing about the book. Less so for the particulars of the world than the character of Frank. The entire book is spent in his head, marinating in his internal monologue, and it’s a wonderfully strange and uncanny place – the story makes a liberal college professors from New England in the 1930s seem more genuinely alien (and often repulsive) than most genre fiction manages to make feudal aristocrats or cybernetic oligarchs.

The prose is interesting. Often good, but just as often reading like someone’s very self-conscious pastiche of mid-20th century ‘Great American Novel’ writing. Which I think is intentional, but does begin to wear on you – there’s only so many times you can read a guy say ‘how like a sphinx!’ when describing his fiancee before it grates. The exception here is Frank’s traumatic nightmares of his time fighting WW1 in France, which I reliably found quite evocative and striking.

The book’s politics are, well, bad, but in an absolutely fascinating sort of way. Better to say that the book is torn between the themes and politics it wants to have, and the mixture of genre requirements and I guess an author and editor who didn’t care much about subtext that leave it sending too drastically different messages. It’s probably one of the most interesting things about the book.

On the explicit, textual level, the book is very conscious of all the petty cruelty and flagrant brutality that went into maintaining the Jim Crow South, and views e.g. the way Frank calls it ‘the States War’ with jaundiced irony. There are passages talking explicitly about the injustice of sharecropping, and the vulgar racism of all the townspeople is presented as one more reason to view most of them with contempt. And of course the supernatural evil driving the whole story is the bloody legacy left behind by a confederate slaveowner who hunted and consumed human flesh wearing the skin of a beast, whose shadow looms large over the entire story. The book is generally very clear that ‘racism = bad’.

And yet-

This is also a story where functionally every black character is an inhuman, man-sexually predatory, man-eating beast in human skin (there is exactly one ‘good’ werewolf, he’s a yankee), where the indigent drifters walking through town begging for work really were sinister malefactors mapping things out to return with their friends latter, where the protagonist’s fiancee having dubiously consensual sex with a black man is very much presented as part of her own transformation into an insatiable, uncontrollable, literally babe-eating werewolf herself.

Horror has a reputation for being a reactionary genre by default, which this book feels like a decent argument towards. More, it was published in 2010, and I might owe that whole decade of pop-media critique being elevated to spectator sport that it’s genuinely hard to find stuff quite this unselfaware getting published these days.

A very fitting Halloween read I suppose, in the same way watching an ‘80s slasher is.

[satomatto]

. //TK DAYS | NAOYA ZEN'IN.

cw: femdom; bondage; supposedly non-con/dub-con towards the end; Naoya is a bastard and that says it all.

tw: control/submission; brat taming; orgasm control; dry orgasm; semi-public; anal sex; is prostate massage with an armature part of your plans, dear friends? now yes; humiliation; binding; it can be a little incoherent in places; facesitting; foot fetish (a little?); Naoya is a bastard x2.

wc: 3.2k

Your fingers gently run over the rough rope. The quiet, sweet breathing right next to you is relaxing. The pretty face is surprisingly calm. A little off-putting. And after all, this guy is cute only when he's asleep - the muscles of his face are soft and relaxed, and his mouth isn't spewing tons of nasty, barbed words that spread through you like poison.

The airy lace shirt, you know that silly pink thing makes him drool. He'd prefer to fuck you without taking it off and then jerk you off for weeks, clutching it in his fist and reaching for it with every fiber of his worthless soul until the smell wears off.

It's truly disgusting to watch it from behind the screen. While he's sure you still don't suspect a thing. Oh yeah, sure, the bastard moans loud and high while he does it - it's impossible not to realize what's going on during these 'meditation' sessions in the back room of the clan mansion. It's worth giving him credit, he's actually more focused afterward. As befits a worthy Zenin heir.

And, as befits a worthy bride of a Zenin heir, you're doing a pretty good job of keeping him in line. After you came into his life and followed him around, he became much more balanced, which is surprising to everyone. You've heard a few thank yous from the servants. You know, the assistant Zenin personal chef adores you. And your personal maid, who was begging to be transferred somewhere - even demoted, expecting you to treat her like Naoya - is now willing to die for this place.

Good food is never too much to ask for, though, is it? And always clean clothes and royal-level service at the snap of your fingers comes in handy most of the time, too. Besides, access to the gossip going around between the clans and in this cursed place comes in handy too.

For example, that's how you found out that Naoya has a small altar in his room dedicated to a man named Toji. Fushiguro was once a Zenin, and after a couple fateful interactions, little Naoya made him his ideal - in fact, even without going into details, you find the man worthy of respect, but Naoya… He's always been the odd one. Anyway, since this place was never built on such high feelings, like a respect, it's a sin not to take advantage of another of his weaknesses - that's the extra pressure points, right?

But, uh, can't you just throw away all your trump cards? Nope, and that's the only reason you're not talking right now. Yes, sometimes it's worth it to stick your tongue up your ass to enjoy watching others bury their heads in the sand, luckily for you, Naoya wasn't good at shutting up in time, but isn't that more fun?

Looking at him makes you think about so many things and it does make you want to try to mess with him in much more subtle ways, but at the moment you should stick to your plan. It's too early to cross the line. Boundaries need to be pushed first, then broken.

You know, it's pretty sweet. What a blatant variety - the sheer volume of curses he heaps on you (the only thing his generosity shows, merit note) while his cock desperately jerks and leaking thick, translucent pre-ejaculate profusely. He's already soiled his expensive clothes and is now whimpering at your feet like some dirty dog.

"Doesn't your pretty mouth know how to do anything else?" you mock him. He'd said the same thing to you once, one of your first nights, and you hadn't had much experience in bed, either, since most of your interactions had been limited to fingering and the porn the maid had shown you.

It's not something a noble lady can do, but in the end, you had to - after you were put up as collateral, you had to gain the trust of the heir.

So all your family's debts were forgotten as a wedding present. Still, thanks to this performance, you remain relatively free, so it's not like you regret what you've done.

Especially because the heir to the clan himself turned out to be such a whore.

The soft slippers you usually wear - you wish you'd changed them for high-heeled shoes. Preferably with a platform, the kind that would smear that pretty face on the garden tiles where he's lying tied up and helpless.

With a sharp tug on the ropes, you struggle to get this carcass to sit up and turn around, safely ignoring his protests.

Still, he should be quieter. Just because you dragged him to an abandoned, albeit neat barn, doesn't mean he can yell as usual and go unnoticed.

What a shame for the heir to the clan to cry out for help while in such a humiliating position. He knows how quickly rumors spread, and his frankly vile nature doesn't help his position as a victim. He'll be laughed at - there's no other way to put it!

Either way, he shuts up pretty quickly when your foot rests against his lips. Maybe fuzzy slippers really weren't the best choice - he'll choke on it. Fine, though, because in one elegant motion, you drop the slipper, which lands quite successfully nearby.

You flirt with his lips one last time. Well, he must not be ready for that yet.

So, you gently slide your foot lower, rubbing your fingertips through his clothes.

The very next second, you step on, placing your foot flat and causing him to topple backwards, hitting his head painfully on the wooden bench behind him. Watch as the idiot shakes his hips, looking for a better footing to keep from falling over.

The way he looks at you in that moment is priceless. There's so much helplessness in that fleeting contact that is immediately replaced by a contrived coldness afterward. He doesn't like restrictions. Also, he's never let you be on top, eh, complexes, complexes… Well, you'll have a blast now.

What are you thinking about, running your little foot over his cock? Not that you're going to get dirty in it too. And this pedicure was only recently done… But it's too late to back out.

Pretty warm for late summer, isn't it? The way Naoya's moans resonate in your crotch makes you redouble your efforts. Your position isn't very stable, especially because of the way he wiggles his hips to the beat, letting out another dirty moan, followed immediately by a filthy curse in a language you don't know. Well, at least it sounded vicious enough….

How nice - Naoya manages to come to his senses again and gets into that prickly shell again, spitting out another insult in your direction. He's starting to get repetitive in them. It seems even this rambunctious boy has limits; or he's just lost the ability to think clearly already, which is just as likely.

How long do you think it will take for him to soil himself in his own cum, like the dirty dog that he is? Ah, probably quite a while.

Just when you think about it, his pathetic cock begins to throb more tangibly under your leg, like a butterfly trapped in a cage (too elegant a comparison), and alas he's still moaning in a way that so caresses your ears, signaling that he's really close. But, are you going to give him that opportunity? What a freaking pump jump….

Losing your balance a little, your foot slides down, landing right on his balls. He's a big enough boy to be able to support some of your weight, ignore those frustrated-painful moans coming from this pile of incoherent shit. He's looking at you with a pitying stare, out of his clouded eye sockets. He's gonna cry, that poor guy!

At first you thought you'd hurt him somehow, but when you looked down, you saw a charming picture. This one was whining not because he was in discomfort - rather the opposite, he was literally dripping with it.

Ah, yes, that pissy little masochist.

Now you're really wondering what exactly makes him so obsessed with his training. Oh, maybe he even have played with his juicy ass before… In fact, you don't really care if he's had experience. After all, you're always happy to give people an unforgettable time!

The light satin pouch swinging on the delicate silk cord tied around your hips opened to let your delicate fingers in.

You've been planning to use it on him for a while now.

Nice wavy texture, with a very successful seal at the end, still with a comfortable, curved handle - isn't it fabulous? The material is wood. This was hard to find - such good work…. You could tell you were very pleased with your find. Well, it's time to use it on this brat, he's been so quiet, it's almost boring.

As soon as his eyes meet yours, he once again makes a wry face and venomously spouts how disgusted he is to be here, once again demanding to be untied in order to teach you some kind of lesson.

You'd think you'd be that stupid. It's not like he'd think of anything better than just making you taste your own medicine. Though you're both good at that - spitting at each other from the same angle until one of you comes up with something new, and so on and so forth. Kind of ironic.

His cock drooped and now he was only squinting somewhere through you. You didn't like the fact that he was distracted, but for the sake of a brighter future, you could be patient for a while, couldn't you?

Of course, it didn't make you feel any better to listen to the asshole's beautiful, sweet, exceptionally flattering speeches. Your soft, condescending smile won't waver - you've spent so much time perfecting it in the mirror that nothing can shake it now. Yeah, you've definitely been preparing for something like this.

Maybe not specifically for this day - you didn't even expect it to go so smoothly. Maybe our omniscient and ready for anything heir is so used to you that he doesn't even pay attention to your cursed energy anymore? You've heard that everyone has it, but even so, you can't control it. That's sad, because then you'd have so many new opportunities. And danger.

But that makes it even more interesting.

It's also funny that despite all his brave speeches, the proud Zenin still hasn't used his cursed technique that he bragged so much about. Maybe the ropes are in his way, but it's highly doubtful - the most ordinary untreated harnesses, taken a couple of days ago from the same shed.

That leaves only one possibility: he's actually enjoying it, or in other words, getting a real high, isn't he?

Even watching Naoya deal with such a pathetic situation, covered in your juices, his cock leaking more and more, even through the erection ring you so thoughtfully put on, right after he started moaning too loudly, even after your warning. Not that he was a rabbit in bed, despite the fact that he often finished things earlier than you would have liked, he was ready to go for another round almost immediately - he clearly lacked stamina, because he would also finish after a couple of slimy moans and a couple minutes of panting whimpering. You should teach him how to fuck, dear.

Yes, definitely - spread his legs even wider, tying another knot behind his back as he bites his own lips, holding back a heaving moan. He's ready to burst from the fact that you're finally coming down on his cock. The freshly cut grass is actually quite unpleasantly prickly. However, it smells good. Unlike this--

All right, fine, in fact, the master of water procedures knows how to give himself a good bath - with all those silly rituals, he most often emerges from the ofuro with a very pleasant, lingering smell of green tea and honey, among a whole bunch of disparate but surprisingly well-blended scents, even the smell of lavender slips in.

However, even all this splendor wears off after a week of regular training and other delights of a sorcerer's life. And this man is clearly not going to bother with even a simple shower once every three days, so is it worth talking about how he usually smells? Especially when you have to give him oral.

You just can't stand it, even though Naoya himself adopts a cute, wrinkled expression on your face as he stretches your mouth and nips at your throat, trying to get you to take him even deeper. Every time, he feels obligated to fuck you the hardest he can so that the next day you'll wrinkle your nose every time you need to open your mouth, even if he doesn't enjoy it himself. He just likes to see you in pain.

He may know more about clan politics than you do, but you're clearly a bit more educated than someone who spends most of his time as an adult in some sort of training (and even that is questionable now).

He stopped in that regard as soon as he turned sixteen, yes, his manners aren't bad, but still, they leave a lot to be desired, especially compared to you. Well, your former educational institution had high standards.

At the very least, you still have the support of your family and you're not his wife yet, and who's to say they have pride and would rather be up to their ears in bloody debt than let their precious eldest daughter be humiliated into full marriage.

He can't just beat you up, and his bullshit isn't the least bit intimidating, at least not yet, not once, after his next verbal diarrhea, has he ever raised a hand to you. You highly doubt his upbringing played into that. He's not a silent biter.

You pull your panties down to your ankles and pull them off, shoving them deeper into his mouth. So they don't fall out. It would be better to shove them down from your leg for security, but you're more focused now on the idea of how hard his eyes will roll. Will you be able to make him cry? There's no time to waste, because the asshole is starting to realize something - the last thing you need is for him to start squirming.

The smooth wood slides easily between your labia, collecting your natural lubrication. Yes, it may be not enough, even over the top, especially for someone who has never tried anything like this before. But, somehow, you don't care. Like he once did.

You can still remind him of the time that bastard brazenly spit in your crotch and ignoring your willingness to do it, he put it all the way in, holding your arms above your head with a steely grip.

Oh, and afterward he was so complimentary about the way your walls clenched around him that you'd think he actually liked it, pfft. You remember perfectly well how hard it was for him to move.

Here, even Naoya, the speed himself, somehow lasted longer than five minutes, all the while panting and twitching every time you clamped down because of the unpleasant sensations down there, intentionally or not. After that, he left in unhappy, snorting unhappily.

Oh, you'd forgotten how beautiful the moments were when he was silent. As you shifted him into a horizontal position, you realized that you hadn't really thought about picking up more proper knots.

It's going to be a little uncomfortable, but it's too late to back out - not when you've already done it all. You want to get to the end, and Naoya will to remember this day.

As you thought about how to push the toy in, you were totally oblivious to Naoya. You might have been a little lost in your own thoughts, but without even realizing it, you were playing with your pussy, gently collecting your juices on the toy. Well, there was nowhere to get lube anyway (and even though initially you wanted to limit yourself to spit, such a vulnerable view could not help but inspire lustful thoughts).

The guy below was literally seething, and why wouldn't he be? Hovering right over him, you were literally giving him the VIP-seats to this voyeur.

It's amazing how you didn't think of that before. He was scrutinizing your curves so closely that you couldn't even think about the admiration your body aroused in him - only senseless lust could move him, of course. Such a graceful figure, skillful hands… Ah, no wonder he likes to watch you so much - to tell you the truth, you'd do the same if you were him.

The moans coming out through his gag were music to your ears. Couldn't have been more charming.

Well, it's time for dessert. You squat down, getting comfortable on his chest and playfully wiggling your hips, teasing him even more, you spread his legs. He still doesn't understand that you want to give him the slip - poor guy. so naive… Locking the knots so that he can't move the hips at the worst possible moment, flattening your head like a watermelon, you return to his crotch.

Gently, just touching the overexcited, sensitive cock, you gently move lower and lower, smearing your secretions all over his ass. He seems to start to realize what's going on - through the half-drunk fog of arousal. he starts to move his hips indignantly, really only helping you to push the dildo into his anus.

A light flick on his engorged cock is enough to make him shriek and hastily shut up in a rag. Literally.

The ribbed walls of the wooden dildo graze his entrance with startling frequency. You might not be too rough on him, it's not to your advantage - that's an easier way to phrase it.

After a couple of thrusts, you get the feeling that he has a vacuum cleaner in his ass, otherwise how then did he create such a powerful pump? Yeah, there are more and more questions to those training sessions, perhaps you should attend one sometime…..

He's wriggling around like some kind of worm. Almost pathetic, but what can you do - you're already tired of it. Perhaps it's time to finish it?

Accelerating your thrusts to the point where your hand starts to go numb, suddenly, stopping, you grab his flushed cock. It feels swollen, as do his balls.

It must be painful? Not being able to get free for so long.

You probably should have tortured him a little longer, made him walk with the ring long enough for him to come crawling back to you, but you've had enough of that already. Nerves are getting the better of you, aren't it?

Such tension - ah, his whole body shakes and arches as you squeeze him lightly at the base.

The muffled click of the lock on the ring sends a wave of satisfaction through your body. Zenin is so sensitive right now, he could cum from your breath-… And that's something you should have thought about a little earlier. Or at least realize how hard it's been on him all this time. Probably should have brought tissues, though… What do you need them for when you have such an adorable mouth around? Should you get him to clean you? Oh, no, you've got a better idea.

Sliding closer to his face, still wiggling your hips and never stopping generously jerking him off, you position your ass roughly where his mouth is. From the sounds of it, the heir managed to spit out your makeshift gag the moment you sat on him. Come on, you're not that heavy, but apparently it was just too much for some people - heavy breathlessness is a testament to that.

At first you thought he wouldn't have thought of it on his own, because he'd never been brilliantly intelligent - brazen, maybe, but now that his brains were leaking out through his cock (and still soaking into his clothes), he was unable to form the simplest coherent sentence, making only scraps of sounds that should be… Words?

However, his tongue was between your legs pretty quickly, desperately playing with your entrance and engaging your clit. Maybe you cost each other, finally deciding to pull the dildo out of his ass, with a distinctive pop, slowly pulling out and yanking sharply when there were only millimeters left; you come to the point where you can't reuse it.

Not wanting to put the dirty toy away in that lovely pouch, you toss it into the nearest bushes, getting comfortable on the guy's face beneath you. As far as you can remember, this part of the garden will barely be reached by Friday, so you have plenty of time.

Ah, turns out this prick is really good at this. Perhaps you shouldn't have underestimated him and his complaints about you aren't so unfounded? But, he hasn't given you a hint of that until now, so… It's not enough to have talent - you have to know how to use it.

And now you've found the perfect use for it.

Even though it's a little selfish, you ignore his whimpering - on edge, you decide that a slight asphyxiation wouldn't hurt him. After all, he's only shown his best feelings for pain before.

With a loud groan, you move all over the surface available to you, rubbing your pussy all over his face, and finally soiling him with your juices, you move up and get, by your own admission, the best look on his face today.

All wet, slimy stuff, greedily gulping air with his mouth like a beached fish, tongue out and eyes rolled back in delight. His cock seems to twitch again, but this time nothing comes out of it - the guy's body shakes with spasms and he struggles desperately on the ground, trying in vain to get out of the ropes and uncomfortable position.

To think what you've driven him to - what a bad girl, eh! And exactly the same thinks the unfortunate man who came out of that damned house at such a late hour…

[knickynoo]

McFly July Day 17: Dave's Night Off

Twin Pine timeline: taking place a little after the events of my fic "So, Your Brother's Befriended a Mad Scientist" (late 1982, a few weeks after Marty met Doc)

If you’d asked Dave McFly just a few weeks ago how he’d like to spend an evening off of work, he would have easily listed a variety of activities off the top of his head.

Hanging out with the town’s mad scientist and his kid brother would not have been anywhere on that list. Not even if he’d sat there and come up with a thousand options.

But that was before Marty had started working for Dr. Brown. Before Dave himself, after finishing up a late-night shift, had been allowed a quick glimpse into the new, chaotic, strange world his little brother had thrown himself into. He’d only been in the garage but five minutes—long enough to half-absorb the details of the contraption the pair was working on, and even get roped into helping—before the scientist had ushered them out the door to drive them home.

He'd been dying to get back inside ever since then.

Dave watched as the metal arm of the automatic dog feeder turned the can over, sending the wet food into the waiting bowl with a splat. The dog, Einstein, sat patiently until the demonstration was complete, then ran over and began to eating his dinner. Dave wasn’t sure what he was more impressed by: all the time spent building an elaborate contraption just to open and dump over a can or what he’d seen so far of Einstein’s personality, which bordered on humanlike, quite frankly.

This garage was a strange place.

“Pretty neat, huh?” Marty asked, tossing a nod in the direction of the machine. “Works perfectly now, but you shoulda seen the test runs.”

At the comment, Marty and Dr. Brown shared a look—matching smirks coming to their faces that made Dave feel momentarily out of place. Here, he was the outsider, the one out of sync, and it fascinated as much as bewildered him.

“What happened during the test runs?”

 Marty stifled a laugh and gestured across the room. “Just picture a whole can of that stuff splattered everywhere. And that was just the first test. During the second one, it malfunctioned and flung a full can. Doc dodged it just in time.”

“Test runs can be tricky,” Dr. Brown added. “But we worked out the kinks and got it running smoothly. One less thing for me to have to think about in the morning.” He checked a nearby clock and clapped his hands together. “Well, since Einie is eating, I suppose we should too. Are you joining us for dinner, Dave?”

It was odd, having his name so casually spoken by the reclusive old man Dave had grown up hearing so many whispered rumors about. Doctor Emmett Brown, who was holed up in his secret lab building a death ray to obliterate the town. Biding his time, working on horrific experiments and inventions until he could exact revenge on his enemies. The guy who kidnapped trespassing kids (one of the more popular whispered stories around schools and playgrounds)—their disappearance serving as a warning to others.

Evidently, Dave now knew, the only thing trespassers got was a job offer.

Shaking off his thoughts, Dave nodded. “Sure, if that’s okay with you.”

The doctor looked pleased, his lips curving upward in a warm smile. “Of course. What do you boys want?”

Marty tipped his gaze up to direct a pointed look Dave’s way. Dave shook his head.

“Marty, we are not eating Burger King on my night off.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t have to. Pick something else.”

With a huff, Marty crossed his arms and furrowed his eyebrows in deep thought. “Pizza. Does your majesty approve of that suggestion?”

If they were at home, Dave would put Marty into a headlock and wrestle him to the ground, but they weren’t at home. He was standing in the middle of a dilapidated garage with Dr. Emmett Brown watching the exchange. Dave thought he saw amusement hiding on the man’s face.

“Pizza’s good,” he said with a shrug.

Dr. Brown nodded and headed for a cluttered table on the other side of the room, waving them along. “I’ve got a menu around here somewhere.”

Dave watched Marty bound ahead and immediately make more of a mess as he hurriedly searched through the piles of papers and books. The doctor didn’t seem at all bothered and began tearing apart a pile as well. After a moment, Marty pulled the menu out of the wreckage and held it high, a victorious laugh filling the room.

Yes, this garage sure was a strange place, Dave thought. But it was also a good place.

[shadowy-suitcase-herring-neck]

I made a slightly cursed au involving a Demon train.-

The gang are souls bound to the train. they are being punished for the bad things they did in life. It is not an eternal punishment but it is still really long. THeir job is to transport escaped demons hunters have caught back to the underworld. As expected this is NOT a pleasant job. The gang has to be on constant lookout, not to make sure the demons don't escape.. it‘s to know when they inevitably will. It WILL happen every night.They just need to know how to recapture the ones who escape. 

Dust is the one who keeps track of demon types and how to recapture them. He has a journal of those in the same job as him before and adds any discoveries he finds in order to help the next soul that will inevitably be punished with the position. He knows a lot… needless to say he sleeps the least out of all of the gang. (he writes down the all the types of demons in the train that night as well)

Horror is a mechanic and general maintenance worker for the train. (hey even demon trains need some repairs every once in a while) he can cook but doesn't get any real ingredients very often. Also there are all ghosts so they don't really eat :^ Even though he can't cook anything for him or the gang he is able to cook demon foods.This is a surprisingly good motivator. It seems everyone likes food… 

Killer is the conductor you could say. He makes most decisions and is in charge most of the time. Despite his recklessness and general goblinry he is actually a rather good conductor. He is also good with knives. But Killer has a problem making deals with demons… he needs to stop- he can't sell his soul for the fifth time this week- it is not physically possible- Nightmare has to break any connections Killer might have formed with demons because of deals he’s made. 

Cross is the weapons master. He is in charge of the weapons and can use a variety. He also has to make sure none of the gang's weapons are swapped for fakes without them noticing. A fake weapon is next to useless against a demon and Cross knows that could be a very painful mistake. Demons will try and swap weapons whenever possible. 

Nightmare is not a member of the crew on the train. He IS THE TRAIN. >:D for the most part manages himself and does not need “fuel” . He is a demon who has been punished by being bound to the train. This allows for travel between realities possible in the first place. Without him the train would not run or portal to the underworld in the first place. (in short he’s a cursed eldritch horror train boi)

Dream is a demon hunter (a non mortal that hunts demons that have escaped.)

He is friends with Ink,Blue,and Stretch who are paranormal investigators and ghost hunters. They don't know about Dream being well.. Not mortal and they keep wondering why all their ghosts seem to disappear. They have a van that they drive around. Stretch is the main Driver and technology guy but doesn’t really go into any of the haunted places. Ink and Blue had been friends since they were little and so they decided to become paranormal investigators. They later found Dream who wished to join them and have been traveling together since. 

Dream disguised himself as a mortal in order to Join Blue,Ink, and Stretch. He simultaneously is able to locate demons and Keep The rest of his friends safe from the demons and spirits they are hunting. Though Blue is rather frustrated all the demons keep disappearing soon after they show up. 

Dream then Takes any demons to the nearest “train station” which is not visible or tangible to mortals. 

if you have any questions about this au then i would enjoy answering any of them.

i am attempting to find the post that inspired this. it was one about steam engines and what they looked like if their boiler exploded or something...

[courfeyracs-swordcane]

Who are the ballad brothers I have seen you tag them on a variety of posts and I am intrigued

THREE MONTHS LATE BUT HERE WE GO!!! I also did a post about this ages ago which I’ll link HERE but! There’s been a lot of development since then!!!

This is going to get long. Sorry in advance. (Also I’m keeping it to just the Ballad Brothers themselves (and co) but lmk if you also want to know about the saints! They’re not at all relevant to the main plot (two and a half exceptions) but they live rent free in my head)

TLDR. Little guys took up residence in my head when I listened to music in the car and it’s become a whole scifantasy worldbuilding exercise.

Anyway!

KYRIE ALEIDIS BALLAD

- she/her

- 29 years old

- 5’11 (and a half)

- Massive Fucking Tech Sword

- Enneagram 8w7 if you’re an enneagram guy

- she is YOUNG she’s FANTASTIC she’s GOD’S FAVORITE and she’s NEVER GOING TO DIE

- The main character!

- She is the city (symbolic) and her name is god

- Former sword-for-hire/star player/golden girl/mascot/diversity hire (whatever you want to call it) for evil organization(tm) Rekah’s Finest

- (named after St Rekah of the Guard)(think somewhere between the CIA and the Pinkertons)(National guard type of thing that staged a very quiet coup/government takeover about a decade before Kyrie was born and is gradually got to the point where they’re running the city-state where this all takes place as a police state)

- current renegade and aspiring vigilante

- she fucked off the minute she turned 18 to join the metaphorical army/become a cop (same difference)(except there’s also regular cops and they kind of suck shit) and very quickly became very good at it!

- wound up as essentially the Special Little Guy they have as the face of the organization doing a lot of like. Public outreach and shit. Also doing a lot of assassinations inside and outside of the city

- A few years before the story starts she Realized Some Things about how her and Alonzo were orphaned and quit her job EXTREMELY publicly and extremely dramatically and left with nothing but her Massive Fucking Tech Sword and the clothes on her back and fucked off to go hide/live in a massive tower monument at the center of town

- It’s… legally difficult to get her out of there due to the historical site preservation regulations so she’s just been kind of vibing there ever since

- Theoretically. She’s trying to take down the RF and get them Out Of Her Damn City

- In practice she’s one singular burnout and has no idea how the hell to go about doing that so she’s mostly just hanging out in the tower and evading arrest

- She’s a fuck boy dirt bag piece of shit (etc etc etc) and I love her for it

- She gets no bitches despite being a local celebrity with one of The Fanbases Ever (she would do numbers on scifantasy Twitter) bc She’s So Sucks <3

- (no bitches except she does have a weird homoerotic thing going w her roommate/childhood best friend who’s kind of a reincarnation of St Ely who built the city and lives in the tower)(she’s not looking at it)(she’s got bigger problems called Avoiding Confronting Any Emotion bc if she looks at any of them she’ll have to process all of the Guilt she has irt. Pretty much abandoning her baby brother on the streets to go be a hero and then Never Contacting Him Again)

ALONZO BALLAD

- he/him

- 25

- 5’4

- two regular guns

- Kyrie’s aforementioned baby brother!

- Enneagram 3w4 which if you were friends w me 2019-2021 you’ll know exactly how much that says everything you need to know about this guy (derogatory)

- Most repressed mfer on the planet and a neurotic little freak

- Considers himself to be the only guy in this found family with a braincell. (Untrue, even if you don’t count An)

- His first instinct in a lot of situations is Improv Theater. (Seeing his sister for the first time in more than ten years? Better wear a hood and prepare a whole dramatic reveal about it. Ran into the guy he kissed at the office holiday party while trying to get his expense account wrangled for an upcoming assignment? Time to launch into an extended bit about how he’s so sad and poor and he’s gonna starve and freeze to death all alone on the street and Only They have the power to help him. please.)(they think it’s hilarious but jfc what’s wrong with him)

- The main issue with him is that he gets his apartment and all of his necessities directly from his employer, so his first priority at all times is Preserve His Job At All Costs

- He thinks of the way he lives as self care. I think of it as masochism.

- His main idea of a Life Plan from the ages of 15-his early 20s was Look At What His Older Sister Did And Then Do It Too

- (his main idea of a life plan from the ages of 3-20 was Don’t Get In Trouble Ever or They Will Come And Kill You To Death)(these are not especially compatible philosophies.)

- So he’s a sword-for-hire (gun for hire. And not even a fancy tech one. They’re not trusting any more Ballad brothers with any more expensive technology.)

- This is not working out well for him. he’s not overwhelmingly good at the job. He doesn’t find any purpose in killing people. He doesn’t even like blood.

- He is, however, very good at following orders. But only when he wants to.

- He’s also very good at Lying To His Boss’s Boss

- They keep sending him to try and assassinate Kyrie as like. Kind of a power move? Trying to show her that they’ve got her only family at their beck and call and they can make him do whatever they want

- Unfortunately Alonzo has no interest in killing her so those missions pretty much just wind up with him going to hang out in the tower and shoot shit for a couple days and then going back and turning on the big sad wet eyes for his report to tell them that he did his best he really did but she’s always been stronger and he just couldn’t take her— but he’ll do better next time he promises 🥺🥺🥺

- Kyrie had been their best guy for several years and Alonzo is, in all other regards, the perfect employee (turns in all his paperwork ahead of time, does every other mission very efficiently and never gets caught, goes to all the company mixers even though everyone can tell he’s exhausted, always has his uniform meticulously clean and pressed) so this is plausible, and they go “aww okay better luck next time :) go get some rest :)”

- Also he’s lowkey a hostage here. What are they gonna do? Fire him? No they need him for leverage

- It drives his immediate supervisor who knows EXACTLY what’s going on up the fucking wall. We will get to them.

- Gets Fucking Shot With A Cheater Bullet (very small timed action grenade) on an assignment midway through the story and his first instinct (instead of going back to the office where they have like. Actual doctors and medical equipment to deal with that) is to head to St Ely’s tower, where they have his sister and his kind of boyfriend and also his sister’s roommate who can sew and his childhood buddy Jonesie down the street who knows first aid

- He’s not thinking especially straight due to the Panic and also the Blood Loss from the Bullet In His Ribcage and he’s got a whole emotional thing about how he wants to die at home w his people— and then it goes off and he Fucking Dies. Whoops!

- He gets better his boyfriend (for real now lmao) is an aspiring necromancer and God’s Pet Freak (there’s a lot. Behind that. more later) and he very pointedly doesn’t believe in magic or saints or anything but also his chest cavity did very much get exploded and he’s fine now (besides the lingering Effects) so like.

- He deals with this by 1. Contacting his supervisor who lets the higher ups know there’s been An Incident. 2. Going back to work as soon as they’ll let him (like three days later). and 3. Getting himself transferred to the security division and becoming Ari’s dad’s bodyguard so he doesn’t have an excuse to go hang out at the tower anymore and he doesn’t have to look at any of those emotions he can just Focus on his Work <3

- Obviously that does not go well for him.

SENECA “ARI” FINCH

- they/them/any

- 25

- 5’2

- Enneagram 5w6

- Mad scientist

- Nepo baby

- Front desk intern for the RF financial department

- Aspiring necromancer

- God’s Pet Freak

- If you’ve ever wondered what happens when you raise a child in one of those beige instagrammable influencer houses. It’s this.

- Their dad is the puppet city governor for the RF (Kyrie wants him dead so goddamn bad)(he’s kind of a useless twink but he’s an easy guy to blame for all this shit)

- Their mom died when they were like 8 of something pretty regular and they have since dedicated pretty much their entire life to Bringing Her Back

- (No they were not especially close or anything why do you ask?)

- TECHNICALLY their dad, knowing their passion for Science (and not much else about them) got them a cushy RF job developing biotech to make the cool individualized tech weapons

- In practice, they got their funding and their fancy work lab and immediately proceeded to squirrel just about everything useful from it downstairs to their own personal lab in the basement (not on the floor plan) where they don’t have to worry about things like “supervision” “safety regulations” “proper ventilation” “their job” etc

- They are still doing their job but they’re getting it done in like. Two days out of the month and spending literally all the rest of their time on the necromancy

- It’s gotten to the point where they’re not even clocking in upstairs anymore so they made them take a couple shifts a week at the front desk of the financial department just so they have something on record to pay them for

- They’re okay with this! it’s fun to switch it up and there’s snacks in the breakroom

- I cannot emphasize enough how much they Do Not Leave the horrifying unventilated unethical science basement. there’s a couch in the corner and a sink and an employee bathroom in the stairwell what more could they need.

- One of the early plotlines is centered around Getting Them To Go Outside (really outside, not just to the regular parts of the RF building) and like. Idk. Maybe seeing a leaf or smth would be good for them)

- where they also wind up meeting and hanging out w Kyrie and El, doing some upkeep on Kyrie’s fancy sword, and being Absolutely Fascinated by St Ely’s Tower (there’s some generally buried Magic Shit that perks up when them and El are in the room together)

- BECAUSE!!! (And this is why they haven’t succumbed to the Fumes in the horrifying unventilated unethical science basement, or the gas leak in there from the pipe main running through the middle of it that they’ve been siphoning off of, or any of the experiments they do on themself bc they can’t get any other test subjects and also bc they wouldn’t trust anyone else’s testimony as to What It’s Like) the magic, which is how Ely built the city (and how all of the other saints Did Their Things as well but that’s a whole other can of worms) is a vapor that lives underground and speaks no human language but saw this little freak trying to defy the laws of nature from their hole in the ground and took a liking to them

- It can’t bring their mom back bc she’s been dead for fifteen years and it never met her so it wouldn’t even know where to start

- But it likes them! It follows them around and keeps them alive and helps with their experiments :)

- (they remind it of Saint Ely, who was a similarly tiny passionate freak, but that’s also a whole other can of worms)

- Ari is not aware of this in the slightest.

- Their second arc is getting Disappeared from legal existence (very easy. They live in a basement and barely ever leave it and don’t really talk to people), realizing that they are in fact mortal and could potentially die someday, and trying to contact their dad to make sure he knows they’re okay. (Doesn’t work. They’ve been disappeared and are no longer allowed past the front desk.)

- Their third arc (during the communal breakdown era. Kyrie’s abandoned by god arc where she decides to run away from her problems in a literal sense and Alonzo’s evil arc where stops speaking to everybody and dives headfirst into his job at the war crimes factory) is deciding that the same thing happened to their mom and the necromancy isn’t working because she’s NOT actually dead which means she’s out there somewhere and they can find her! :)

- That is not even a little bit true. :(

EL (no last name)

- he/him (woman)

- Doesn’t really have an age. They don’t really exist in time in the usual sense

- 5’0

- Enneagram 9w1

- Lives in the tower

- Just kind of showed up there one day as a kid and has been living there ever since

- There’s a nearby convent of some kind that fed and clothed them growing up (same place that looked after Kyrie and Alonzo after they were orphaned)

- Kind of a reincarnation of Saint Ely. not in so many steps bc again. Out of time and who knows how long he’s been there but like. He’s back for more but he’s a lady with an ounce of common sense this time. It’s unclear how much he’s aware of this part of it. He knows the tower is important, and he knows restoring the murals inside of it is important. I don’t think he knows why.

- only guy in this found family who’s even remotely capable of coping with the idea of death (he already did that)(kind of psychopomp coded about it)

- Kyrie’s best friend and second in command so much as she has a command. Weird homoerotic gay thing going on there. I assume there’s some of the traditional St Ely brand of devotion but like

- (And by traditional I mean I don’t think that’s a widely known thing about Ely the Saint but it is one of the more prominent things about Ely the Guy)

- Spends most of his time restoring the tower and the murals inside that nobody has seen in years

- (That’s a whole thing)(different can of worms)

- This is @nosongunsung11’s guy so I’ll tap them in for the details but I think that’s the basics!!

AN “PUNK” JANG

- they/them (lesbian)(in gender moreso than practice)

- 35 but they’re lying about it. actually 33

- 5’5

- Enneagram 1w2 😬

- Twin fancy tech rapiers

- The previous Special Little Guy/Mascot/face of the RF

- Ran away from home, changed their name, and lied about their age to join up when they were 16 and they’ve just kind of been going off that ever since

- Went by Punk for a while towards the beginning of their career bc they were 16/17 and it Sounded Cool and it would up becoming almost like their callsign (that’s what Alonzo calls them bc he was very much an enjoyer when he was a kid. They were like Spider-Man to him. Blorbo from the news.)(and he continues to call them that bc he’s a little shit.)

- (They wound up naming themselves after Saint Anjane of Strength not because they believe in any saints but because they desperately wish they did and this way at least they can pretend they know what it might feel like to have that kind of faith.)(in a fun and funky coincidence, they’re actually very very similar to Saint Anjane herself. El has some Complicated Emotions about this.)(long story. It’s Saint Ely’s Monument but it’s also the closest thing he has to a grave— he pulled it out of the ground so he could be alone w/ Anje’s body after he got to her execution too late to talk her out of it)

- Got shunted when Kyrie showed up and was infinitely more personable due to her heroics in SciFantasy 9/11 (long story. Building exploded.) and general bright-eyed and bushy tailed unjaded Disposition

- And by shunted I mean promoted to middle management in the Murder Department

- They’re fine with this it’s significantly less work on their end

- They do make sure after that to have everything they need for basic living separated from the job though

- Only guy in this found family with their own actual apartment. And basic cooking skills. And healthy sleep schedule.

- When Alonzo gets into the Murder Department they wind up as his immediate supervisor!

- Exciting prospect at first! He’s a high profile assignment (hostage) and also an easy assignment (does all of his paperwork on time, completes his missions Quietly and Efficiently, doesn’t really do anything interesting at all)

- Less exciting prospect once they actually work with him. He’s a little shit and a motherfucker and he knows exactly what he’s doing

- They can’t stop covering for him at this point without doing a hell of a lot of paperwork and jeopardizing their own job so they’re stuck now

- Also. unfortunately. they got attached. They’re not the step-older sibling, they’re the older sibling who stepped up.

- They’re the one who arrests Kyrie at the beginning of the story and kick off the whole first half of the plot, but they also wind up putting in their two weeks after Alonzo Gets Fucking Killed and then immediately goes back to work

- They do it significantly better than Kyrie tho they keep their apartment and their bank account and return most of their uniforms so the rf doesn’t have any reason to come after them besides Aiding and Abetting (and also trespassing. On the protected historical site that is St Ely’s monument. But that’s the least of anyone’s worries here.)

- They wind up kind of taking charge of the. whatever the hell these guys are doing. during the Communal Breakdowns arc. they would really prefer not to be doing this but somebody has to. So.

- Also during that arc they wind up facing off with Alonzo and boy howdy is there a reason they got assigned as the rf’s Special Little Guy and he didn’t, bc he doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell even with them holding back

AND THAT’S THE MAIN CAST! Thank you for coming to my ted talk! (Get it?) I’ve hit the image limit on mobile so I’ll come back and add the before/after pictures in a reblog bc I had fun making those

[batneko]

I’ve decided to start saving the various AU threads I wrote on twitter since twitter could implode at any moment.

-

Some buds have a superhero au (keyword being "super" there) and I was thinking about it when I saw a gif about a supervillain ranting to their minion and so now I present to you a concept -

Mumen Rider: Accidental Supervillain

He just. He just made a lot of choices that made sense at the time. He's not sure how it got to this point.

In A World with superpowers and heroes and Unwritten Rules, Mumen is a low-level speedster. He's faster than most vehicles but can't throw (or take) a punch better than average.

What he DOES have is a lack of the problems speedsters usually face. His clothes don't tear under the pressure, he doesn't start fires when he tries to touch things, his metabolism is only as high as any athlete. No one's entirely sure why, but it gets him hired as a hero!

He doesn't do much - just patrols and fights whatever small crime he runs into. But he's happy.

Then one day he's taken on a team mission. Always good to have a variety of powers. The heroes have found a dangerous supervillain's lair and they want to arrest him for arms dealing.

It doesn't go GREAT. In the course of the fight the building catches fire, and it spreads quickly. The villain is trapped, Mumen starts trying to rally the others to rescue him, but they refuse. He's a villain. Him dying here will save paperwork.

So Mumen goes in alone, dodging falling rubble, and by the time he reaches the villain the whole building is coming down. All Mumen can do is throw himself over the old man as a human shield.

To both their surprise, it works. It turns out Mumen has a second power.

The force field doesn't stretch far beyond Mumen's body, but he's able to wait out the worst of it and get both of them out of the fire safely. By the time they do the heroes have all left. Mumen sighs and insists on taking the villain to the hospital.

Mumen's suit had taken a lot of damage so he gets checked over too. He gets home hours later to see the morning news announcing that his hero persona tragically died when a villain vengefully set his own lair on fire.

It's a lie. And now Mumen wonders how MANY lies Hero Org told.

While Mumen is dwelling on that, debating whether to tell them he's even alive, the villain finds him. He'd seen his face so it wasn't hard (according to him). And gives Mumen a whole sack of cash as payment for the rescue. Mumen tries to refuse but the villain is insistent.

After much polite disagreement, Mumen finally says he'll take the money... but he wants to spend it on the villain's research.

See, what made THIS guy so dangerous is that he ARMS the other villains. And Mumen could use a new suit, as well as a place to test his force field power.

The villain agrees, and introduces himself. His name is Kuseno. And if Mumen really is indestructible, Kuseno might have a job for him.

It turns out that the force field is why Mumen's never had problems with friction the way most speedsters do - everything in a certain range of his body is invulnerable. But there's a major exception to the things he's protected from. Humans.

If a human gets into his range they can hurt him just like normal. That's why no one ever noticed before. It's a bit ironic, being immune to bullets but not punches.

It does, however, make Mumen the PERFECT human shield.

Kuseno builds him a bicycle with as little friction as physically possible (his range doesn't cover a whole bike) and Mumen gets to be a hero again. On his own terms. Pretty soon he's got a positive reputation online as that bike guy who just shows up and saves people and leaves.

The Hero Org doesn't like it, they disapprove of all vigilantes and especially ones with good press. But they can't do more than put out occasional statements about how unlicensed heroes can't be trusted.

But a pattern emerges. Bike guy doesn't JUST save innocent bystanders

Since Mumen works for Kuseno that technically makes him a minion. So when the villains come to pick up or test new gear, Mumen ends up socializing with their goons. Some are in it for the money, some the thrills, some... just enjoy hurting people. But they like Mumen!

(The sadistic ones actually like Mumen the MOST because they think no one who seems that normal would ever work for a villain, so he must secretly be a freeeeeeak.)

Mumen's not entirely comfortable with ALL his new Work Friends, but he doesn't think they deserve to get shot! That's not HIS judgement call to make. So when he's out in his hero suit he saves everyone he can. Everyone.

One thing happens early on that at the time just seems to be a lesson to watch what he says.

Mumen explains to some goons that he helps Kuseno test weapons because "I've got partial invulnerability." And as soon as the i-word is out, a goon pulls a knife and tries to stab him.

To be fair, the guy just thought it would break on Mumen's skin and they'd all have a laugh. Luckily for both of them, Garou's reflexes are even faster than a speedster's. He grabs the guy's wrist and yells, "He said PARTIAL, asshole!"

Mumen thanks Garou profusely and they spend the rest of the visit sharing crazy coworker stories.

Neither of them realize this is the SECOND time they've met.

Another thing happens a couple months later. Mumen's hanging out with some different goons, they're talking about all the crazy shit their boss makes them do, and Mumen offhandedly says "We really need a union."

Dead silence.

"How... how would we do that?"

"Oh, I don't know. There's resources online."

"A lot of villains would kill us just for bringing it up."

"Sure, that's why you don't bring it up until you've got a solid plan of what you want. And probably some blackmail material."

"I used to work for a guy who put bomb collars on us so he could blow up our heads just for disagreeing with him."

"... See that is a thing that would not be allowed under the union."

The conversation moves on and Mumen more or less forgets about it. Until six months later when he's elected union president.

(There were several other candidates who were more involved in actually FORMING the union, but they also pissed a lot of people off.)

"I'm not even a goon! I'm like, a research assistant!"

"That's a kind of minion! We made the category pretty broad."

"I've never done anything like this!"

"Neither have we!"

He doesn't tell them he's also a hero. He CAN'T. Some of the less stable ones might try to kill him, and the rest would be heartbroken.

And so, seemingly overnight, Mumen has become the leader of every mook, minion, and even a lot of the low-tier villains in the country.

And there's something else... He got to know Kuseno as they worked together, and he knows about his real motives. He also knows that Kuseno really doesn't have that much money. It all goes into 1. Genos, 2. paying Mumen and keeping the lights on, and 3. R&D. There's little profit

The villain community knows Kuseno, knows he's the guy you go to for the BEST gear, but a lot of them don't really think about the gear aspect of it. They either make their own or steal it. When Kuseno loses a customer to jail or death, it takes a long time to find new ones.

Mumen mentions that it's a shame he can't advertise, but villains are big on Aesthetic and it just wouldn't do to have big Kuseno Labs logos on everything (especially since Genos is a hero and Kuseno keeps it a secret how he REALLY makes his money).

if more villains could see Kuseno's stuff and go "hey that's awesome I want that" he wouldn't have any problems! Too bad he can't just go out and stage flashy crimes as demonstration.

Then again... why CAN'T he do that? Not Kuseno. But someone else. Someone indestructible.

by this time Mumen has been in villain circles for months. He's gotten to see just how corrupt the heroes can be. And he's aware of politics enough to know that certain people can just bounce back from property damage. You blow up ANY ferrari and there is no downside.

he slaps together a costume, heads out, makes a big show, and skeedaddles before the heroes show up (he knows their strategies, he knows when to cut and run).

And then casually lets all his many MANY minion friends know that Kuseno made that new villain's whole kit.

It only takes one more show like that before somebody figures out MUMEN is the new villain. Garou, the one who saved Mumen from the knife attack that time.

Mumen doesn't know it, but they've met several times.

Mumen doesn't know it because Garou has a power too.

Garou is unnoticeable. He can blend into any crowd, he can look like he Belongs in any room. If he's VERY careful he can even make somebody think they're alone when he's standing over their shoulder.

He's met Mumen four times now, each of those working for a different villain.

Which is frowned upon, in villain circles. Even in the union. Unless you're a secretary or an accountant, you don't really "shop" bosses. You find somebody who vibes with your brand of crazy and you stick it out until the boss bites it or gets locked up.

but Garou isn't in this to BE a minion. He wants to be BIG, he wants to be the worst most super supervillain this world has ever SEEN. And if that means watching how the others do it and playing Wormtongue from time to time, so be it.

He's always whispering, encouraging, giving ideas for boundaries to push and lines to cross. Every boss he's had has just been a test case for him.

And here's Mumen. Who's more of a walking ad than a "real" villain. But if he's gonna be on TV he can at least LOOK the part.

Garou makes a few suggestions, is pleased when Mumen takes them, and thinks that will be the end of it. He doesn't actually intend to minion for him. But the next time Garou comes by Kuseno's lab - with another new boss - Mumen remembers him.

That's... not supposed to happen.

Garou's power has a weakness too, it only works when he WANTS it to work. If there's someone that he WANTS to notice him... they will.

And he would like it very much if Mumen noticed him.

(Garou nearly jumped his bones back when he suggested a union.)

With Garou's advice, Mumen starts to gain fame as a villain. And as more footage of him pops up, other minions recognize him. It becomes known that he's just the Face and Kuseno is the Brains, but still, Mumen has a lot of clout.

Within a year of his "death" and starting over, Mumen is well-armed, trusted by a veritable army of minions, and understands heroes better than any other villain.

Somehow it STILL takes him by surprise when his villain persona is named as the biggest threat in the country.

"I'm no supervillain!"

"Sure you are. Remember when you blew up that bank?"

"With no people inside! And fully insured!"

"And when that news station got a blurry picture of your face so we hijacked their broadcast to play disney movies and they got sued?"

"...okay that was funny. But I don't have any minions!"

"Sure you do. What about Spider, and that lady with the human finger bone earrings?"

"Tomie is the union treasurer and I'm pretty sure those are replicas!"

"Are you? Because she has multiple pairs."

"She... she's a very good treasurer."

As time goes on, Mumen starts to feel bad. He's still a hero in the little spare time he has left, and nobody but Kuseno knows about it. People are relying on him in all his other jobs, and that's fulfilling, but what he WANTS is to be a hero.

Garou has become the person he confides in (and more? They're still dancing around their feelings) so Mumen asks him to come over one evening for a serious talk. Garou thinks it's finally love confession time and prepares accordingly.

When Garou shows up in the nicest shirt he owns and an attempt at brushing his hair, Mumen almost breaks. But he mans up, he tells Garou the truth. That he was - and IS - a hero. That he never WANTED to be a villain. That he's kind of trapped now.

Garou walks out.

(If you're wondering where Saitama and Genos are in all of this, so am I.

There's too many options! I know Genos is a hero, but is he a pro? Was that before or after he met Saitama? Is he ALSO secretly a villain and hiding it from Kuseno?

If Saitama's a professional hero did he know Mumen before, or not meet him until after he "died" and went vigilante? Has he been mourning his friend this whole time? (Probably not, that might be too dark.))

Back to the mumarou! Currently stalled out because Garou is Pissed.

Not only did Mumen lie to him - lie to EVERYONE - but all this time Garou's thought Mumen was like him. A kindred spirit. A relatively normal guy who just likes villains for personal reasons.

That's not why he walked out, though. He got up and left after Mumen told him his old hero name. Garou KNOWS that name. That's the first hero whose ass he kicked so hard he actually felt (a little) bad about it. And Mumen has no idea.

Garou's torn between "Serves him right then!" and "Shit, now I'm never going to get to tap that."

Mumen was afraid that Garou would spill his secret - though he wouldn't have blamed him. But aside from not showing up for his volunteer work at the union, there's nothing.

After a few days, Mumen learns that Garou hasn't shown up for minion work either. He's just gone.

Mumen's not exactly WORRIED, he knows Garou can take care of himself, but he is concerned. Packing up and abandoning your life isn't a healthy response to finding out the guy you liked is a liar.

He tries to tell himself it's not his fault. It doesn't work.

Mumen still has to work though, and soon he's executing his next villainous scheme.

To his surprise, a new hero he hasn't seen before is on the scene in moments, and somehow gets close enough to take him down hand-to-hand. It's good technique. Mumen can't help but be impressed.

The next scheme goes much the same. And the one after that. As much as Mumen admires this new guy, it's getting frustrating. Since when could a hero predict him as well as he can predict heroes?

And then one particularly embarrassing fight later, Mumen's pinned down by the hero -

- who leans in and murmurs "I told you about the cryo-gun, didn't I? Only works for ice guys. Slips up anybody else. S'a good product but not for the wider market."

It's Garou.

That night Mumen looks into it and finds that Garou's hero persona is quickly rising in the ranks. He's considered a sneaky type and a close range fighter, and his costume shows off his figure so he's already got fans.

It's great but it doesn't make SENSE. Garou HATES heroes.

Mumen wants answers, but he can't exactly go through normal channels and ask Garou for a chat. So what do you do when you're a villain and you need to talk to a hero? Publicly call them out for a fight, of course!

"[Garou's hero name] I've had enough of your tricks! Face me like a real hero! Come to [place and time] ALONE or the city will PAY!"

Anyone who knows anything about villains knows it's a bluff. Mumen wasn't even standing in front of a bomb!

But Garou gets to play the "I can't take that chance" card and meet up with Mumen just as ordered. He's so pleased by the whole thing that he almost forgets he's still mad about the lying.

So why DID Garou become a hero?

"Revenge."

"That's not a very heroic motivation."

"Man tell that to my friend Genos."

"So you wanted to embarrass me?"

"I mean, mostly... kinda... I guess."

"You guess?"

"I guess I MAYBE wanted to... seethingsfromyourside."

"Aww!"

"No aww-ing!"

"What did you decide?"

"It's okay. I mean, that organization is fucking corrupt as shit, but... the hero part's all right."

"It feels good to do good, doesn't it?"

"Shut up. No. Maybe. ...Never been popular before. That part's nice."

"I'M a fan."

"You're a nerd. And I'm not a real hero anyway. I'm just gathering info. Biding my time."

"Okay. You're not a hero and I'm not a villain."

"Right. ...oh."

"Now you're getting it."

This is all I've got for now! Eventually they will be a couple but they already know they both want to, it's just a matter of hashing it out. And there's gotta be a plan to take out (or take over) the corrupt hero org. Maybe they switch places? Or both be both?

Mumen and Garou should definitely be Nemeses for a while. Really play it up whenever they clash. Garou would NOT be subtle about the subtext either.

He's got a bit of an exhibitionist streak to begin with and tussling with his secret boyfriend in public is THRILLING. (It's not a secret when they're in any guise but these, everybody in villain circles knows Mumen is dating his #1 henchperson.)

Garou also really likes to scandalize his fellow heroes by hinting that the sexual tension he has with his nemesis is both intentional and resolved. He'll never admit it outright but he makes a LOT of innuendos.

[trainerspiral]

As I stagger over to collect the Ultra Ball, Forrest and his Lombre come jogging up. "I heard battling," Forrest huffs. "What happened?"

"Grimer," I say. "There's a hole." I walk over with him and point out the tiny hole in the masonry. This close to the wall, we can hear the sound of other Grimer burbling and grumbling on the outside.

Forrest hisses through his teeth. "I'll patch it. Be right back. Lotus, stay and help." The Lombre squawks an affirmative and stands at attention in front of the hole.

He starts to bolt, then turns back. "If your Pokemon are hurt, help yourself to any berries you think will help."

"Thank you," I say as he turns and runs off.

I'm hesitant to leave Lotus by himself, but if a Grimer comes through now the only way I'll be able to help is by throwing myself in front of it and hoping the V4ST is quick enough, so I walk to the orchard and start looking. Luckily I'm not far from a row of Pecha trees. I pull a ripe one off and release Coba, who lies on his side squeaking in pain. I hold the berry up to his face. "I'm so sorry. Eat this and you'll be--yow!"

I yank my hand back, unprepared for the speed of his lunge. The berry disappears, stem and all, in a single messy chomp. He shakes his head, wipes his mouth with a foreleg, and squeals up at me.

I laugh, tears pricking my eyes, and pick him up. "You did amazing," I whisper.

He makes happy sounds, but he still looks a bit weak. I wander back to check on Lotus, then go to pick a couple Oran berries for him. By the time he finishes the second one, he's scampering around the trees and I have to pick him up so he won't run off and dig up the place.

I glance up then at the V4ST, which has been quietly trailing us. I pick a third Oran berry and slowly hold it out on the palm of my hand. It cocks its head with a quizzical beep.

I say, "Thank you for saving me from the Silcoon. I'm sorry I haven't been nice to you. I'm just scared because I don't want to lose Coba, but I know you're only doing your job. I want us to get along."

It turns its head from side to side, and I'm unsure whether it's looking more at me or the offering. Then it starts making a pecking motion a few inches away from the berry, which disappears one square-shaped chunk at a time. When it's gone, it makes a cheerful sequence of beeps and does a little swoop in the air, and I feel like a weight has been lifted off me.

When I arrive back at the wall, Forrest is patching the hole. "Sorry," he says. "I try to check every week, but it's hard to--"

"It's ok," I say.

He must hear a change in my voice, because he looks up and smiles, nodding at Coba. "The little guy took care of it?"

"Like a champ," I say.

-----

Forrest offers to take over, but I want to repay my debt. With the wall repaired, the rest of the night is uneventful, and by the time dawn breaks I'm exhausted but satisfied. Forrest and his great-grandfather give me breakfast and show me to a guest room, and I sleep like a log until late morning.

True to his word, when I come back out to the kitchen area the Berry Master is waiting with a Belue Berry. "Thank you, sir," I say, bowing as I accept it.

"And thank you for your help defending the trees, youngster," the old man replies. "May you and your Pokemon blossom together."

"Floww, flowwerrr!" Liechi the Bellossom adds.

As I'm on my way out the door, Forrest hands me a bento box. When I open it I find a selection of more common berries, good for a variety of ailments. I try to refuse or offer to pay, but he shakes his head. "It's what we're here for," he says. "Good luck out there."

-----

The afternoon is sweet and mild, but the lingering smell of Grimer still hangs on the breeze. I pedal the Roto-bike around the orchard wall, taking in the trails of dead grass and noticing for the first time how many trees in the surrounding woods are shriveled and brown. If Forrest is right, Koynlab--the company I've impulsively trusted to help me--is responsible for this.

I shake my head. I may have forgotten more than I realize, but I'm no youngster, and bolting off to bring bad guys to justice is a youngster's game. I have to focus on getting Coba home, and I still have 9 more battles to go before his legitimacy will be certain. Whether they're 100% squeaky-clean or not, Koynlab has given me a lifeline, and it would be foolish to let go now.

I turn my bike west, making for Mauville City, and do my best to leave my misgivings behind.

@novelistash

[womanofwords]

Brown and Parker Decorating

Hobie squinted at the sheets of stickers in Mayday’s chubby hands. “What the hell are these?” he asked her dad.

Peter B. Parker made a face and jerked his head towards the infant girl. “Watch your language in front of my daughter!” he hissed.

Hobie kissed his teeth. “You do know that in my dimension, I lead riots against the police for fun? And I did tell you I wasn’t a role model. Now, what are those?”

“Those are fun stickers for children. Mayday really likes the glittery princess ones,” Peter said. A unicorn sticker was stuck to her forehead, and Mayday just laughed. Hobie shook his head.

“These stickers are part of a clever ploy by bourgeoisie capitalists to placate the masses and imprison them in restrictive gender norms,” he declared. Peter yawned.

“If you rein in the language, I’ll let you put them anywhere you want,��� he said. Hobie looked at the stickers, looked at Mayday, looked at the man with the pink dressing gown sprawled on a sofa, and had an idea.

He waited until loud snores were coming from the dad, and he quietly stole away with Mayday. He had an establishment to mess with.

“Now, my little anarchist, this room is pristine and government property. What would you like to vandalize first?” Hobie asked. Mayday’s arms stretched out wide, and Hobie let out an appreciative whistle. “Everythin’? All right, guv’nor.”

They were halfway through pasting unicorn stickers onto the buttons when Miles, Gwen and Pavitr walked in.

“What are you doing and why do you have Mayday?” Pavitr asked.

“What are you doing here?” Hobie asked them.

“We asked you first. And we don’t have to tell you anything,” Gwen said, her arms folded.

“We’re looking for Pavitr’s missing bracelet,” Miles said. Gwen facepalmed.

Hobie looked at Pavitr’s wrists. One was missing a bracelet, so the story checked out. “Cool. I’m giving Mayday her first taste of anarchy by sticking these all over O’Hara’s shop,” Hobie said. “Gives it a bit of colour. And she just likes sticking them on places.”

Miles grinned. “I have some paints in my room in my dimension. I can help.”

“Yes! My guy, Miles! You do that!” Hobie grinned and threw up a peace sign.

Gwen grabbed Miles and dragged him away to the portal. Pavitr watched them, smiling happily. “They would go so well together, wouldn’t they?” he said to Hobie.

“Yeah, they would. Little rulebreakers, both of them.”

When Miguel walked into the room where it happened, he stopped dead in his tracks. It had been vandalized.

Glittery stickers all over his workstation, obscuring the labels on all the buttons with images of unicorns, fairies and rainbows. No consistency at all. The wall was graffitied with the silhouette of a very small figure. The words “The Future” were in large bubble writing above the silhouette’s head. The letters were a variety of colours in no particular order: blue, pink, silver, white, black, red, and gold.

“WHO DID THIS?!” he screamed. Meanwhile, Hobie, Miles, Gwen and Pavitr were walking around with Mayday and trying to hide the cans of spray paint.

“You did such a good job staying still, May-May,” Miles cooed.

“We should get away soon before Miguel finds out,” Gwen said.

“That won’t happen for a while,” Pavitr said.

“HOBIE!” Miguel screamed.

“We should run,” Hobie said.

_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

“Hey, how did you get back so fast? Does she need to be changed or something?” Peter asked.

“She . . . really wants her daddy, is all,” Miles said, everyone smiling. Mayday cooed and reached out for her dad, and Peter melted.

“Come here, little May,” he cooed. Miles, Gwen and Pavitr covertly sidestepped out.

“She’s going to grow up to be amazing,” Hobie said, looking down at May with a smile. “See ya, man.” He opened up a portal and fell backwards through it. Mayday giggled and pointed at it.

“Hobie’s nice, isn’t he?” Peter said. Mayday mimicked Miles’ spray can, tracing a person in the air. “What were you doing when I was asleep?”

Mayday simply smiled.

@spicy-apple-pie, I heard through the Tumblr grapevine that you wanted a fic of Hobie, Pavitr, Gwen and Miles babysitting Mayday, so I found this. Not sure if it’s specific enough for whatever you had in mind, but here you go. Somebody listened.

[holdmecloser-gandydancer]

@blupjeansweek May 29th: AU

[remember when I said I'd write the arcade date from Starblaster Lanes?]

“How have I never realized that this place was so close to my job?” Lup asks, following Barry through the front door of the arcade. A rush of air conditioning tumbles over them. It’s dark inside the arcade, the windows treated with a deep tint. The flooring isn’t the garish nightmare carpet Lup was expecting to see in an arcade, rather some dark tiles with faint specks of holographic glitter adorning it. A synthy 80s pop playlist plays quietly, under the sound effects from countless arcade cabinets.

Barry hands the guy by the door some cash and gets a nod in return. “It’s one of those things that either you know someone who goes here all the time and they drag you here, or you just never find out about it. It’s not the flashiest building, you know?”

And it’s true. The facade of the building is a dilapidated looking brick. No large sign like its neighboring businesses, just a peeling decal on the front that lists the hours and the price for an all-day entrance. 

“How’d you find this place, then?” Lup’s astounded at the sheer variety of cabinets. Lots she’s heard of, countless others she never could have even dreamed up. 

Barry moves through the arcade with a confident kind of comfort; he’s in his element and it’s clear to see. “I moved here when I was first starting grad school and I didn’t really have a ton in common with my classmates. They were nice enough in lecture and everything, I just never got around to really getting to know them. So, I took a lot of walks and stumbled into this place by accident, But it was like my paradise, you know?”

Lup stops in front of a game that features what looks like Godzilla, King-Kong, and a werewolf. She nods to Barry. They pick the Godzilla and werewolf, respectively. “I get that. Embarrassing as it is, that’s why Taako and I dig the bowling alley so much. We got into so much shit in middle school that our aunt just started dropping us there with some cash on days she was at work early. And now we work there. And it’s lame, probably, but it was a nice place to lay down some kind of roots.” She grimaces as her character bites into a piece of building that was concealing a toaster and falls down, defeated. 

“It’s not lame! It’s nice, feeling comfortable somewhere.” Not too long after the demise of Lup’s giant lizard, Barry’s werewolf falls victim to a similar fate. They both share a laugh about this and meander to other cabinets, idly playing a few, laughing when they lose. 

Lup eyes the massive mural in the back depicting all manner of pop culture icons, and she and Barry take time pointing out the best ones. Lup’s especially fond of what seems to be Dot Warner, though she appears bereft of her brothers.

At long last, they approach the Space Invaders cabinet. Being his home turf, Lup lets Barry take the first crack at the machine. He racks up quite the respectable score; nothing that takes down his personal best, but something to knock poor old Bob outta seventh spot. 

Lup claps and rubs her hands together like a villainous cartoon spider. "Alrighty, that was a pretty good showing but there's a new sheriff in town." She sidles up to the machine and meditatively hits the new game button.

She dies fairly quickly.

"Yeah, see that's what we in the biz call a trial run," Lup says casually, stretching her arms and rolling her shoulders. Barry laughs good naturedly. She bounces on her toes a few times before readying herself in front of the machine again.

She does markedly better this time, the trial run seeming to have worked magic. When she exhausts each of her lives, she's delighted to realize she's managed to snag a spot on the board. Near the bottom, but there nonetheless. 

"Just going easy on me, huh?" Barry asks, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"Exactly right. Couldn't unleash my full force right here. Then you might get turned to goo and I can't in good conscience subject the employees here to goo cleaning," Lup says seriously. 

"You're just so kind and thoughtful."

"I am. I'm like the Princess Diana of this arcade."

Barry looks at her, bewildered. "I certainly hope you're not," he sputters.

Lup grins. "Yeah, I guess that wouldn't bode well for either of us, huh?"

"It wouldn't!" Barry nods toward the tiny snack counter in the back corner, boasting two empty stools and delicious 80s prices. "How about I buy you a soda while we figure out how to muscle our way into the line for the N64 over there?"

"Think you could throw in one of those dubious hot dogs on the rollers?"

"You drive a hard bargain, but I think we can make that work."

Lup grabs his hand as they slowly make their way to the counter.

[z-h-i-e]

Character Study: Thranduil Headcanons

I don't recall how far back I wrote this, but I reposted it on March 8, 2011 on Yahoo!Groups. Of course, that's gone, so now I drop it here, with updates for 2024, because a few things have changed since I started writing Thranduil into stories over 20 years ago.

Author: Zhie

Character: Thranduil

What does your character look like, how do they dress, what are their mannerisms, how would you describe their voice, what is their personality like, what kind of day-to-day problems do they face, and how do these problems affect them?

I see him as fairly proper, and not one who likes those fancy robes Elrond wears.  He's a 'say yes to pants' kind of guy.  He is very patient, but at the same time, once he has an opinion it can be difficult to sway him.  I kind of have Otto Preminger's voice stuck in my head for him, thanks to the cartoon.  Day-to-day, when in Middle-earth, he deals with running a kingdom, which he does very systematically and very diplomatically.  He's very organized, and really gets into whatever sort of work he is doing.  (I don't always directly say what a person's occupation is, but I like to give everyone an occupation.  In Doriath, I had him as a sort of law librarian/paralegal, and eventually move him up to being the Middle-earth equivalent of a lawyer.)

2024 addition: By the time I get him to Valinor, he's an extremely formidable lawyer, and an expensive one. I also have it that he keeps many, many horses that are expertly trained and can be rented for journeys, and thus runs the Valinor equivalent of Uber. Eventually I have plans to have him move up to the level of Magistrate.

When and where was your character born?Due to a lot of storytelling stuff my brother and I came up with before I started putting fanfic down on paper, we decided that Thranduil would be born in Valinor, and made him just a little younger than Ecthelion and Galadriel, his best friends when he was growing up.  He's a few hundred years older than Celeborn.

What problems did your character face growing up?

Not many.  The worst problem was probably dealing with the punishments from going along with whatever mischief Ecthelion was causing, or from kissing too many girls and making them run off startled or screaming.

What are their interests?  What are they good at?  What are their personal strengths and weaknesses?

Great diplomat.  Excellent public speaker.  Not so good at keeping prisoners safely locked up *coughgollumanddwarvescough*  He likes shiny things.  He doesn't particularly like war, but he's good at combat.  He likes to drink, he's a wine connoisseur.  He also likes to sing.

Besides being a lawyer, he has a fair amount of knowledge about healing.  Most of it was learned non-traditionally, from observation or just trying things.  He ends up aiding in the delivery of both of his sons, as well as countless other elflings later (including a daughter Galadriel has later in Valinor)

2024 edition: This is part of what I leaned into in Phoenix, where he offers to accompany Finrod around Tol Eressea when Finrod is still recovering from some injuries he has. Thranduil is very much a person I think strives to take care of people he is close to or likes or whom he feels some responsibility for -- he was a dad mode king. In the story Tusk, I have a side story where Glorfindel learns that in the depths of Mirkwood, there's an area where there are half-orcs and some full orcs, the products of soldiers who fell in love with the enemy and brought them back to Mirkwood, and Thranduil finds a way to keep these families together.

What are your characters favorites (food, color, season, place, type of music, etc.)?  List any you can think of.

Very eclectic musical tastes.  In Valinor, his 'retirement' job is running an inn that includes a large pub and dance hall.  He tends to have a variety of musical acts.  Favorite color is green (which I tend to think is the typical color for an Elf, though from many surveys the statistically typical color a human picks is blue).  He likes to be outdoors among lots of trees more than any other place.  Favorite food would be a good glass of strong red wine.  He enjoys the quiet of winter. 

2024 addition: He likes reading outside and watching fancy birds be around him. White peacocks, silly parrots with big colorful plumes, rainbow pheasants found only in Valinor--bird watching, but like, super fancy bird watching.

Do they have any family?

From the canon, he has parents, and of course there's Legolas, his son.  But I extended the tree a little, and gave names to people (like his mother) who didn't have one before.

Parents: Oropher & Hisre

Wife: Avisiel

Sons: Ilmendin, Legolas (both sons are eventually married, so he's got inlaws from that)

Grandchildren: 1 granddaughter* (I); 1 granddaughter and 1 grandson (L)

Great-Grandchildren: total of three thus far

Also, his father officially adopted Erestor while they were in Doriath, so while he has no blood siblings, he will refer to Erestor as his brother, as well as a character borrowed (with permission) from Mary & Mal named Thaladir, who becomes loyal to Oropher and leaves Doriath when the rest of the family does.

Thranduil is also related to Celeborn in that they are first cousins; his father (Oropher) is the younger brother of Celeborn's mother.

I like to story weave...

2024 addition: *When I finally got a copy of the Mirkwood choose your own adventure book, I pulled the name of the main character as his adventurous granddaughter.

Who are their friends?

From childhood, his best friends were Galadriel and Ecthelion.  When he was in that post-childhood pre-adulthood phase, his best friends were Celeborn and Finduilas.  Eventually, he and Erestor became very close friends, and one part of this was due to them both managing to survive through the three ages in Middle-earth, while another part certainly had to do with their mutual appreciation of good liquor, shared religious beliefs, and philosophical ideas. 

2024 addition: He becomes quite close to Finrod later, to the point of romantic relationships that his wife approves of.

Do they have any pets or animals they are close to or care for (like a favorite horse)?

Not particularly.  He does like sled dogs; those are used more often in Mirkwood than horses, due to the ease of keeping them in the caves, and the greater ability the dogs have to be able to fight giant spiders.

2024 addition: When I wrote Tusk in November of 2010 as my NanoNovel, I gave everyone fun animals -- Gildor had a unicorn, Erestor ends up adopting a cobra, and Thranduil got a giant deer. Do the math - the films started coming out in 2012, I got tired of having people finding Tusk years later tell me I had the wrong animal in the story, so I retconned the deer to match the films -- that was also when I declared I was done aligning Bunniverse with all adaptations. (And thank Eru I did, because can you even imagine the literary gymnastics it would take to reconcile all of Rings of Power with everything else?)

What do they do for fun?

Drink, listen to music, sing on occasion, hold discussions, make love to his wife, watch other people having sex.  He has, in Mirkwood, a beautiful suite, which is offered for use to most anyone who is interested, with the understanding that there are a number of areas where Thranduil can sit behind the wall and look in through a peep hole to observe.  He doesn't do it to get off, he does it strictly for research purposes -- he writes various guides and sociology books under a pseudonym.  Not many even know it's him; he only explains that the room is set up to allow for this unnamed person to observe.  He even makes sure not to be in the observation areas every single time things are going on so that there is less suspicion it is him.  (I guess this goes more into that secret area..)  Since there are a few who are aware of what he does, he has on occasion been invited to observe more closely, and in those cases is very professional, asks questions while he's there, etc.

2024 addition: In Valinor, with plans to finish the most extensive work he's been writing for thousands of years, he get Amarie, Finrod, and Edrahil to let him observe some of the more unique techniques of sexual relations. Later, when he begins a relationship with Finrod, it begins under the terms that it is to allow Thranduil to have experiences so that he can write about them with better understanding. This has led to some of the best scenes I have written, and I don't think any of them are posted publicly as of the writing of this.

Why do people like your character?

He's very intelligent, and very fair.  He sees things with a very legal mind.  He's also fairly generous, depending on the situation.

Why do people dislike your character?

He makes sure you know that he's right when he knows or thinks he is.  He's also a slight bit paranoid about some things -- you would be, too, if your neighbors were evil.

2024 addition: I don't think it gets mentioned in this, but, he is creeped out by goats because of their eyes. Galadriel is almost always seen as keeping them as pets to troll him.

What is your character’s dream or ambition?

To have a happy, healthy family, living together, in a safe place.  At the end of the second age, he sent his wife and his mother to Valinor after the death of his father, so it was a while before he saw them again.  

Is your character romantically involved with anyone?  Who?  How long?  Why?  What is this person like?

Avisiel was living in the wilds of Doriath, much in the same way Nellas does.  Thranduil met her one day while wandering in the woods.  The rest of her family had been captured by Morgoth and turned into orcs when she was very young; she escaped by hiding.  He coaxes her into Doriath, teaches her the language, and eventually falls in love with her.  She's not a very complex character, but I didn't think Thranduil would necessarily fall for one of the elite ladies of Elvendom. 

2024 addition: He also becomes romantically involved with Finrod during the Fifth Age in Valinor. The first time is brief, about a year, which Thranduil ends up fucking up when he agrees to take on the lawyer role in a case against Finrod, in part thinking that not much will come of it, and in the end, Finrod loses and spends some time after that refusing to even speak to Thranduil. Years pass, and they eventually slowly get together again, with Finrod giving the ultimatum that everyone is allowed to make mistakes, but now that Thranduil has made the mistake once, if he does so again, there is no third chance.

What is a secret about your character that no one knows?

Some people know about that bit with the room and the watching and the writing and all that.  This is a tough one.  Well, there's one that his wife knows (hard to keep things from a spouse) and no one else really does.  Sometimes, when he wants to get out of being at a party or to go to bed (or to "go to bed" *nudge nudge*) he'll act more intoxicated and sleepy than he is so that he can escape to his room.  He actually holds his liquor quite well (especially compared to some other Mirkwood Elves)

What else is important to your character?

Religion is very important to him, so much so, that he became the equivalent of what would be an ordained minister/priest in the religion he practices, though he really doesn't do much in terms of that with everything else he does -- it was more a personal spiritual thing.  His younger son, however, also takes that path, but more-so as his occupation (yes, I made Legolas the 'cleric' of the Fellowship... too much D&D influence? you decide...).  Because of all of that, he is very devoted to and protective of his religion, and it tends to influence him with some of the decision making he does.

2024 addition: Of course, this is something that I know is going to weave into and make difficult the relationship with Finrod, whom I have as one of the biggest heretics in all of Valinor, and someone who does not practice any religion, faith-based beliefs, etc. (He only gets away with it because he's so nice.) I have writings (again, unposted thus far) where at one point, Finrod decides to start his own religion, and again, this becomes straining between him and Thranduil because Thranduil is so devout to his beliefs.

[thygoddessouijathicc]

Chapter 1: Arrival (Phone Dave Rewrite)

(Do not expect updates to be this frequent I’m just really into this RN)

“Hello there future Freddy’s employe- owner-“ Jack skips through the tape, nothing useful, since when was his first Boss a spokesperson anyway?

He puts in another tape, getting started. “Corporate gave me a very long script about the importance of phone guys, but I’m not reading it. If you hope to run any kind of successful business you’ll need a phone guy. We have a vast catalogue with varying prices ranging from Free, to $500k, which is my price. We do taxes, frame employees, run the entire place when you aren’t around, and some of us don’t even know who we are and haven’t been able to recover our memories yet. So if you want to run a business at all, get a phone while they’re still in stock. Put the next tape in to-“ Jack shuts off the tape and opens up the company website, going to the phone guy page.

Out of stock the tape had said… the reality was anything but, even with how many had left the company there were thousands of phones. And since they marked their own prices, accounting for experience, of which most had quite a bit, $500k wasn’t THAT crazy anymore.

Just to check if the tape was true Jack checks the page for the phone on the tape. “Steven Stevenson.” That’s… a name. $1500k Inflation huh. The tape was kind of old.

Jack has a grand total of $12.50 after buying the restaurant, $12.50 he planned on spending on weed. He clicked on a tab for cheap phones, $700 was the lowest amount. Still way too much. He sighs, almost ready to give up when he sees there is a free tab.

The free phones were apparently sold separately to the standard paid variety, with their own tab.

This was perfect! He could just get as many free phones as he wants! Foolproof!

He clicks on the free tab to see exactly one phone. He is now highly concerned. He had assumed the free ones were defective but only one… were they cursed or something?

Jack, being as high as he is and this unlearning the fear of death, clicks on the page. “Model number 51_02.” No name. This was looking great wasn’t it?

As there was no profile picture aside from a poorly taken photo of what looks like a purple finger covering half the lense with a purple and white phone in the background, Jack moves on to the info.

“51_02 has yet to remember anything, and despite company knowledge of his name, this information has been redacted from files. Phone is marketed as free despite having worked at over 2000 locations before the business model shift that granted phones basic human rights, this was done at his own request. Frequently used to open locations with a fierce loyalty to the company and seeming enjoyment of his job allowing him to be great for new locations, however this phone also behaved in a rather unsettling manner that drove off customers after the first few months at every location. A good phone to start but a horrible one longterm.”

Jack leans back in his chair, exasperated. If this phone is like this he’d be terrible for Jack. He opened the location to lure Dave back and get more weed money. This phone sounded obnoxious and the lack of any elaboration on what exactly he does that drives away customers was… well… suspicious. Jack didn’t overly CARE about the location he just wanted it open long enough Dave would take notice, but a phone that’s got nothing but AI and love for the company?

Jack decides to keep trying to find out more, maybe this phone could help him.

Medical records… no other phone had these… great.

“51_02 has a variety of strange medical issues. He seems to have some kind of rare skin condition causing a scaly off-colour appearance, it seems to not be causing him any physical harm but it is deeply unpleasant to look at. His skin has a number of surgical scars of unknown origin. Due to unfortunately being taller than the height cap the machine removed parts of his anatomy to fit, this resulted in fragile bones, severe muscle atrophy, and some parts of his skeletal structure such as the ribs being oversized.”

The text is followed immediately by a few images, the first showing him without a suit to show the body structure issues… wooo boy were there more than were mentioned. An unusually extended neck buckling under the weight of the phone, a seeming lack of any volume in the midsection, phones do tend to be skinny, losing some fat reserves, but it looks like he was free of any organs, and what looks to be claws poking out of his finger tips. His whole body is swathed in medical gauze and bandages seemingly only there to hide his skin.

Jack sighs in pity for the phone and nearly scrolls past the second picture, but manages to notice it just in time.

His blood runs cold… er than it normally is.

The image is of the phone standing awkwardly wearing no shirt with all the bandages and gauze missing from his body, revealing somewhat scaly bright purple skin.

Everything seems to fall into place in Jack’s constantly drugged mind. Well… some things. “Dave…” he mutters. “That’s where you went…” the man says, running his hand over the screen and then. Scrolling up to hit “add to cart”.

…

It only took a day for Dave to be delivered, a company guarantee. Jack hadn’t slept that night. He cried a lot. But he didn’t sleep.

What else do you do when you hear your boyfriend from the 80s who you thought abandoned you in Vegas turned out to have been transformed into a deformed phone guy who still was trapped under the AI even today and apparently liked the company now?

Dave was delivered in a box, a common practice back in the day. Jack drags the heavy box inside and opens it, before he even finishes the phone pops his head out. Metal. Shockingly well kept, as if repainted frequently.

“Hello? Hello? Hello? My name is Scott Cawthon I’ll be your new manager how can I help you today?” The phone says, Jack almost falls over hearing the Scott voice coming from his old “friend” from the 80s.

Jack gives the phone an uncomfortable smile. He remembers Dave being MUCH taller than him, now the height difference is minimal.

He reaches up and puts his hand on the phone’s shoulder. “Uhhh… hi sir? Are you ok?”

Jack starts crying and hugs the phone.

The phone guy responds awkwardly. “W-wow this place is a dump. I’ll get right to work cleaning it up.” He wedges Jack off himself and goes to get a broom without saying another word.

[aewrie]

rambling about grimm hcs/au lore. and i mean rambling

my hc is that grimm adores kids & cares about them a lot, and i will die on that hill. like, if he were a regular guy with regular guy aspirations he'd love to be a kindergarten teacher. or run an art/craft club or such. something where he'd get to he'd get to spent time with kids, and encourage them to be creative and weird.

he doesn't hand grimmchild over to the summoner because he doesn't care, but because it's a necessary part of the ritual; the rare occasion where things do go wrong aside, he knows it's for the better, for the child to travel with the summoner. it allows him to rest before he burns (something he desperately needs, because once the child is in the picture, he is actively dying). it allows the child to experience things and grow beyond the scope of the troupe.

he is so protective of his child. yes, it is his reincarnation, but even if it wasn't, he would be. he was ready to die for the child when he did not realize what it was, when he did not want to be responsible for any child at all and was freaking out about the whole thing until he got too depressed about it to be freaking out. he was miserable, had nothing to gain from the situation as far as he knew, and the #1 priority was still the child.

(though, once he knew, and especially once he had trauma related reasons to be extra vigilant? yeah he might have overreacted to some truly, really, genuinely not-a-big-deal situations a few times.)

also, if an actual child did show up for his ritual somehow, he'd rather burn himself alive than go through with it. he can improvise with the ritual when circumstances are less-than-ideal and he cannot find a replacement summoner on short order, though it's not fun for anyone involved. least of all him. the course of action he would take is to find a home/caretaker for the child, gather what flames he can with the troupe's assistance, and torch himself. very much preferably in that order, so the kid wouldn't need to deal with him dying and whatnot; it is not a pretty thing to witness, even indirectly, and he will need more of an adjustment period after. not the best time to be dealing with a stray child.

just, him going up against a child (combat prodigy or not) for his own gain does not fit into the picture at all.

(i started this typing this whole thing bc i realized this specifically is a part of why child ghost bothers me so much lmao. and then i started going off on tangents)

(maybe he did do a double-take when someone tiny waltzed in, but i also think a great amount of variety in size depending on species just makes sense for bug people. and canon does have that kind of variety, too! regular mortal adults range from sly to old stag wait i forgot about bardoon he's the hugest actually, kids from millybug to marmu (these two are spirits but the sizes appear to reflect what their physical bodies were, given we have markoth and galien with actual corpses to compare to). it'd be really awkward and rude to assume shit based on size alone, i feel, if you can't clearly tell based on other features.)

grimm would also be very interested in an explanation as to how and why a child came his way in the first place.

basic rundown: there's these bugs who live apart from the troupe, keeping watch for dying kingdoms and potential summoners. the bug we dreamnail in the cave? was supposed to choose a summoner from amongst survivors, travelers, what have you. it would have been their job to set up and to light the lantern; and also to explain the task at hand and to guide the summoner to the troupe. from there, grimm handles things. alas, the bug died before they could fulfill their duty. good thing ghost had the dreamnail.

speaking of: if the dreamnail is a moth artefact associated with radiance only, it makes no sense for grimm to rely on it for his ritual. he either would have to have alternative means to achieve the same effect that all summoners can utilize, or do something else by default. in my version, no dreamnailing required. when things go as planned, at least.

when the ritual nears its end, conventionally, the nightmare king will find the summoner in their sleep, not the other way around. individuals with unusual skills or tools to reach dreams exist, thought they are rare. so while it was a surprise, it wasn't too odd for ghost to just pop in unexpectedly rather than being 'invited' (read: the nightmare king has found you! now it's time for the asskicking).

the summoner will be allowed into grimm's chambers, because the proximity makes things easier, but that's optional. not everyone can easily fall asleep when he's right there. some manage, and then wake up when they get trounced, and cannot relax again until they get some distance to grimm.