#i call it my Delightful Young Man Swag

[sensoryseraphim]

Love that I apparently have enough charm to make old ladies love to talk to me and not enough backbone to make them Stop

[harlot-of-oblivion]

Prowling For Pleasure

You treat Vergil to a night of indulgent luxury and forbidden pleasures.

Rated Explicit for: Dubcon, Vampiric Manipulation, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Femdom, and the usual Vampire Activities. 

Part Two: Decadence & Depravity 

Tonight is the night of your promised hunt, and you can honestly say that you’ve never felt this excited in all your undead life! Everything is almost ready for your date…all you need to do is finish getting dressed, which is easier said than done with the ever-growing knot in the pit of your stomach. You’ve grown accustomed to spending your solitude with only a few trusted confidants, but the thought of stepping out for a night on the town with Vergil is exhilarating!

You can’t stand all the pent-up nervousness and excitement raging inside you any longer. Your eyes dart over to a black velvet bag sitting on a nearby shelf as you apply the finishing touches to your makeup. You reach over and grab it before taking out a deck of tarot cards at Vergil’s desk. Their musty scent wafts through the air as you shuffle the cards a few times, envisioning your question before splitting the deck into three smaller stacks. Then, you gather them all back up in a different order and spread the top four cards out on the desk in the form of a cross.

Time to see how our date will play out.

You turn over the first card to reveal the image of a nude woman pouring two vessels of water, one over land and the other into a calm river. Your lips curve into a fond smile at the familiar card, The Star, which has popped up in a lot of your readings ever since Vergil started calling you by the sweet endearment. So, it makes sense why this card represents you and your feelings in the matter at hand: you hope to grow even closer with your fierce fella after tonight.

Your brow quirks at the next card in the spread, which depicts a man in full armor riding atop a valiant steed with a large wand. Huh…how curious, you muse, tilting your head at the Knight of Wands as you ponder its meaning. It usually denotes a popular person prone to grand gestures crossing your way…this person may also be full of themselves and impetuous, leading them to make rushed and foolish decisions. You’re not exactly sure what this means for your date tonight, but you get the feeling that it won’t be favorable.  

The next card has you blinking a couple times before leaning in just to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. But the scene of three young women dancing in a circle with their golden chalices held high in a joyful toast remains the same. Curiouser and curiouser, you thought while tapping your nails on the desk, wondering if the proposed outcome of success is too good to be true. Drawing the Three of Cups is all around a good omen though, so you press onto the very last card of the spread.

A shiver runs up your spine at the sight of a man and a woman embracing each other in paradise. The consequences of tonight’s date will lead to what you’ve always wanted in your previous life…and what you desire now more than ever despite your cursed existence. Now I know it’s too good to be true, you consider sullenly, warning yourself to not get your hopes up as you begin clearing the desk. But a peculiar notion pops into your head when you touch The Lovers card again; it doesn’t seem like your usual stray thoughts at all…it feels like a sudden prediction of moments yet come…    

Two souls shall converge in a moment of destiny.

“I didn’t take you for a fortune teller.”

Your head whips around at the sound of your lover’s voice. His soft lips curl into a smirk as you check out his delectable attire for tonight. The paisley pattern of the midnight blue jacket looks absolutely regal buttoned around his waist. A black and blue handkerchief pokes out of his jacket’s pocket, bringing your attention to the silky black lapels framing his broad chest. The matching black dress shirt and pants starkly contrasts with his silvery white hair while the Yamato hanging on his hip completes his elegant wardrobe.

“I don’t dabble in tarot much,” you explain while storing the cards back inside the small velvet bag. “But I thought a little insight might help us with our date tonight,” you admit, softly nipping your lower lip with a single fang as you get up from his desk.

Vergil hums in understanding as you stow the bag back on the appropriate shelf. “And where, exactly, shall this date take place?” he inquires, slicking back his perfectly styled hair while watching you with a curious gleam in his eyes.

Your hands become a blur as you quickly wrap your hair into a low bun before pinning it in place. “There’s this posh jazz lounge downtown,” you reveal while grabbing a starry headpiece with two chain swags. “It has an excellent bar, great music…” you pause for a moment as you carefully stick the headpiece right above your bun. “And some private sitting rooms for exclusive members,” you finish, clipping the two chains on either side of your head.

Vergil tilts his head. “Sounds like you’ve hunted there before.”

You chortle at his keen deduction as you swiftly fasten an elaborate shoulder necklace around your neck. “It was my usual haunt on those nights whenever I needed a break from blood packs,” you recall with an impish smirk while adjusting the hanging strings of pearls on your arms. “But I haven’t had to go back since you feed me so well, my love,” you point out with a playful purr before showing off your strapless black dress.

The sparkling diamonds and iridescent pearls twinkle like stars as you spin around with a slow and sensual twirl. His husky growl sends pleasant tingles below your belly as the skirt flares out, revealing your bare legs and black stiletto heels. You run a finger down your cleavage with a flirty grin, relishing the spark of desire in his silver blue eyes as your knee pokes out of the scandalously long slit of your dress.

“Well?” you prompt with a pleased smile. “What do you think?”

Vergil slowly stalks over to you. “Now I know why mortals can’t stay away when you’re on the prowl,” he softly declares while taking your hand. “You’re irresistible…” he trails off, turning your hand so that he may place a gentle kiss upon your wrist. “And utterly magnificent,” he murmurs with a reverent smile as he tips your chin up into his amorous kiss.    

You grasp the lapels of his jacket as both of your lips slowly smack against each other for a moment before withdrawing with delighted hums. He offers his arm and you gladly accept by wrapping both of your hands around his elbow. His wicked smirk stirs that ever-present hunger deep inside you as he leads you out of his room, effectively distracting you from sharing one more crucial detail of the date.

“There’s one last thing I’d like to do before we leave,” you reveal nervously as both of you descend the stairs. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this with anyone but…”

Vergil looks down at you inquisitively as you close your eyes and focus on reaching out with your mind. His eyes widen in shock as your quiet thoughts brush against his consciousness. “It’ll help us keep track of each other tonight,” you reassure, patiently waiting for him to let down his guard. You can feel him contemplating for a few moments before your mind is suddenly flooded with another presence. It feels familiar and little apprehensive, so you decide to test the connection with a simple thought.

Can you hear me, my love?  

Vergil stares at your unmoving lips in wonder as your words pass through his mind. Then, he gives you an affectionate smile while his response slips past your barrier.        

You continue to surprise me, my Evening Star.

“Shall we?” he asks aloud while opening the door.

Your soft giggle fills his mind as both of you leave the shop. He slashes open a portal with the Yamato and takes your arm before leading you to the other side. Then, you explain your powers and abilities in more detail as you both walk through the more upscale part of the city towards your destination. It doesn’t take long for both of you to arrive at The Nightingale, a high-end jazz lounge and your hunting ground for the night.

Vergil asks if a reservation is needed to enjoy this swanky club as you approach the entrance. You nod and admit that you’re not on the list but that can be rectified with just a few words. He quirks his brow at you as he opens the door, letting you enter first before following right behind you.

A young lady greets you in the entryway. “Hi! Welcome to The Nightingale! Your name, please?” she inquires with a friendly smile.

You give her some random name and as she looks down to check the list, you let a tiny bit of the magnetizing presence hidden within you slip out. “Hmm…I don’t see you…” she trails off with a soft gasp as her head snaps up to meet your gaze. “Gosh, you’re so pretty,” she admits with a dreamy sigh before blinking with surprise. “Oh! I’m so sorry, miss! I dunno what’s gotten into me,” she hastily apologizes with a shake of her head.

“Think nothing of it, darling,” you reassure with a tilt of your head as you stare into her awestruck eyes.

Your vampiric charm pulls her in deeper as you delve into her mind, sifting through a few recent memories before reshaping one for your intended purpose. “Perhaps you should check the list again,” you kindly suggest while receding from her mind. “We don’t want any trouble over a simple misunderstanding,” you add with a patient smirk as you glance over at Vergil, who looks just as confused and fascinated as the hostess.

“Yes, of course,” she replies before checking the list again. “Oh! There you are!” she exclaims while marking the exact name she now remembers you saying to begin with. “Must’ve misheard you…so sorry about that!” she apologizes again with a sheepish grin as she points down a nearby hall with huge double doors. You thank her with a smile before heading in that direction, silently amused at her quiet muttering about making a fool of herself in front of a beautiful stranger.

Vergil observes you from the corner of his eye before speaking softly. “It all makes sense now…how you’re so good at gathering information,” he muses with an amazed smirk as both of you come to a halt in the hallway.

“Oh, that’s nothing compared to what I’m about to do, my love,” you boast, noting the two doormen just outside the main venue as you stare up at him with a smug smile. His arms wrap around you as he chuckles at your boldness, bringing you in close to bestow a soft kiss above your brow.

“Happy hunting, my dear.”

And with that, he teleports away in a blink of an eye, leaving you to deal with the spooked doormen. Damnable devil, you thought while rolling your eyes with an annoyed huff. But you’re able to calm them down easily by assuming a peaceful aura within your vampiric presence. They both go back to their positions by the double doors and swing them open as you approach the loud and lively venue.

The smooth sounds of jazz along with the excited chatter of the crowd brings back memories of a past long forgotten. You pause just outside the door to capture this moment before a magnificent storm while nostalgia sweeps you away to a bygone age. Then, you slowly release the full majesty of your presence, letting it unfurl like a blooming flower as you stride into the main floor with your head held high.

All eyes are instantly upon you as the entirety of the club notices your grand entrance. Even the music slows down as your presence hits the musicians, but they quickly recover and find the rhythm again. You can’t help but to smirk at their awed stares and gaping faces as you pass by multiple tables. Several waiters completely ignore their current customers to assist you with your every need. Your soft laughter makes all their hearts beat faster, stirring your hunger as you request a secluded table on the second floor. Their heavenly sighs fill the air when they behold your gracious smile before rushing off to do their task.

You search for Vergil with your mind as you head up to the second floor, questioning if he successfully made it inside the venue unnoticed. His impressed hum brushing against your consciousness lets you know that he’s not only there but close by. Your eyes dart from side to side as you wonder where he could be hiding…but the mystery of his whereabouts has you shivering with anticipation. The thrill of being watched from the shadows runs through you as you’re seated on a plush couch by a table with a fantastic view of the stage.  

That’s when your hunt truly begins.

Most of your kind usually like to roam around looking for their prey and play pretend as they chat up some gullible mortals. Then, they lure them to a private place where the ignorant human will experience the bliss of the Dark Kiss while their new acquaintance indulges in their blood. It’s typical of all vampires to hunt this way…but some predators wait for their prey to come to them.

And oh, do they come…like a swarm of moths to a dangerous flame.

Quite a few people approach you with various requests over the next hour. Some ask if they can join your table while others just want to buy you a drink. You accept some patrons at your table and refuse others, steadily surrounding yourself with potential prey while listening to excellent jazz. Your keen sense of hearing picks up their whispered conversation, learning a little about these mortals as you judge the potency of their blood. All of them show promise but their constant gawking and shallow compliments are boring you to death…again!

Your eyes begin to wander as the band starts playing a slow and smoky tune, totally changing the atmosphere of the club to something more intimate. And that’s when you spy a young woman standing by the bar, trying her hardest to not get caught staring as she peeks over at your table. How adorable, you muse while admiring her curves and pretty dress. You tilt your head with interest when her body quivers under your alluring gaze, which only whets your appetite even more…that is until the sudden appearance of a young man distracts her.

You manage to hold back the irritable growl crawling up your throat at this unfortunate interruption. But you continue to watch closely as they start talking, noting that they must know each other very well going by their friendly demeanor. The woman must have mentioned you since the man glances your way and his body instantly reacts much like his lady friend. Your brow quirks as they lean in close, sharing a few more hushed whispers before turning around to face you together.

Oh my…what an adventurous couple, you surmise, softly laughing to yourself as you dismiss your entourage with a mere flick of your hand. They all follow your silent command without question, leaving you alone with a couple bottles of unopened champagne. You pat the now empty couch with your hand as you lure them over with an inviting grin.

The daring couple immediately join you and introduce themselves while sitting on either side of you on the couch. You take one of the bottles of champagne and pop the cork, smiling at their eager faces as you kindly offer to pour them a drink. They each grab a glass and propose a toast about seizing opportunities for new experiences before taking a sip as you steer the conversation towards themselves.

It doesn’t take much cajoling to learn that they’re not only a couple but engaged, and you just so happen to catch them the night before their wedding! You ask why they’ve chosen to spend their time with you rather than enjoying each other’s company and they both give a vague answer…but curiosity gets the better of you. So, you simply urge them to be honest with your captivating presence, holding them even tighter within your seductive sway as they spill all their dirty little secrets.  

Oh, this is just too delicious! you gush when they reveal one in particular fantasy about having a threesome with a gorgeous stranger. You lean in real close to each of them and whisper your own craving for something new and exciting, tempting both of them with the promise of exquisite pleasure as you nibble on their ear. Your hunger intertwines with lust as you eye both of their necks, reveling in the aroused blood running through their veins.

You’re absolutely ravenous by the time they finish off one bottle of champagne, and you dare say that your venturesome couple is ready for more…but the sudden announcement of a song request draws your attention. You look down at the stage to see the bandleader pointing up in your direction.

“This next song is for the star up above.”

The band begins playing some mediocre number that barely manages to be tolerable. Your brow furrows at the awful request while your lovely couple remains totally oblivious to your confusion. The insidious whispers of paranoia invade your thoughts, but you push them aside as you mentally reach out to Vergil.

Did you…?

His reply is swift with a hint of cold anger.

No. It was him.

You scan the room and instantly spot the man that has provoked the ire of your fierce fella. It’s not hard to pick him out with that shameless leer on his face as he struts towards you. As he gets closer, you feel this distinctive shift in the air around him while the potency of his blood sets you on edge. You can sense his influence seeping through the mortals around him, bending their will in a show of dominance as he finally makes it to your table.  

There’s no mistaking it.

You’re in the presence of another vampire.  

“Hey there, sugar,” he greets, making your skin crawl as his lips curve into an oily smile. “Mind if I join you?”

You give him a quick once over before looking back up with an unimpressed frown. “Would if I could but I’m quite busy at the moment,” you decline coolly, wrapping an arm around the woman as you tousle the man’s hair.

“Aww, c’mon now…can’t a couple of night owls share a drink?” he persists as his eyes flicker over your adventurous couple.

Your eyes squint into an icy glare. “Go get your own and leave me be.”

The meddling mosquito laughs in your face. “Listen, I don’t appreciate you moving in on my turf without the proper courtesy that’s expected of one so young,” he discloses while that oily smile turns more sinister with every word. “But I’m willing to put this lil’ transgression behind us.”

You roll your eyes as he moves in closer, encroaching on your personal space while staring you down. His lecherous gaze makes your blood boil as a foreign presence slams against consciousness. “All you have to do is-” he abruptly gets cut off as his eyes meet with your furious stare.

KNEEL!

Your harsh command assaults his mind with overwhelming force. His knees buckle under the weight of your superior power as he falls to the ground. He looks back up at you in shock, mouth agape and eyes wide as he begins to grovel at your feet. “I’m deeply sorry, mistress…I didn’t realize-”

SILENCE!

The pathetic little tick instantly shuts his gaping mouth. “I know for a fact this is not your turf,” you reveal, slowly raising his chin up with your foot before shoving the tip of your stiletto heel between his lips. “In fact, no one has claim over this place…until tonight.”

His eyes widen in terror as you pierce his filthy damned soul with your scornful gaze. You mentally nudge the young woman beside you to grab the bottle of champagne off of the table. She complies and pops the cork before handing it over with a sweet smile, not even acknowledging the cowering vampire kneeling before you.

“It’s all mine now.”  

Your overpowering dominance keeps him from standing up or speaking out as you pour every last drop of champagne atop of his head. An amused chuckle flits through your mind as the sparkling bubbly dribbles down his mortified face. You wedge the tip of your heel deeper between his teeth, letting the slope of your foot guide a good amount of champagne into his mouth. He gags and tries to spit it out, but you command him to swallow every fizzy drop, knowing that he’ll have to suffer through the unpleasant process of purging it from his body once you’re done with him.  

You order him to clean your foot as soon as the champagne stops flowing, carefully instructing him to only lick the bottom since your stiletto heels are way too expensive for his vile tongue. Your lips curl into a cruel smirk as he laps up all the dirt and grime with a disgusted frown on his face. You take pleasure in his humiliation while handing the empty bottle over to the young man sitting calmly beside you. And when you tire of his submissive cleaning, you decide to give this worthless tick one last word of warning before setting him free.

“I highly suggest you never darken my domain again,” you threaten while molding his will like wet clay, “unless you want to suffer a fate worse than Final Death.”

And with that final command, you release him with a dismissive wave of your hand. He quickly stands up and tries to speak, but something behind you catches him off guard. You see a flicker of blue reflect in his horrified eyes, visibly shaking with unbridled fear as he slowly backs away before making a hasty departure.

You follow his speedy retreat until he’s no longer in sight. “Now, where were we?” you murmur while cupping the lady’s cheek as your foot rubs up and down the young man’s leg. “Ah yes…I remember now.” Your hungry gaze flickers between your adventurous couple before looking at one of the private sitting rooms. Their bodies shiver in delight as you finally close in on your prey with one final question:

“Care to join me somewhere more private?”      

🌹🦇🌹 (Vergil’s POV) 🌹🦇🌹

Vergil knew he was in for an intriguing experience when he agreed to this lascivious date. So far, it’s played out exactly as he expected: you’ve ensnared everyone in the club with your enthralling presence and caught some prey within your alluring web. The detestable appearance of another vampire nearly made him come out of hiding to cut him down. But he stayed his hand and watched as his Evening Star bent the miscreant to her will before ordering him to leave immediately.

Remarkable, he muses, impatiently wringing the collar of his dress shirt while intense yearning flushes through his body. His keen ears pick up your sensual whisper as you ask the enamored young couple to follow you somewhere else. They nod their heads eagerly before wrapping themselves around each of your arms. He hears your voice ringing through his mind like a delicate breeze as you stand up and glance at a vacant room guarded by a doorman.

Better hurry, my love…the show’s about to begin.

Vergil smirks at your playful tone as you glide across the floor with refined grace. He follows close behind, trying his best to remain unseen while waiting for an opening to sneak into the room. Your captivating gaze falls upon the doorman, staring at him with intense focus while muttering under your breath. His eyes glaze over as he stands stock still for a few seconds before snapping out his momentary daze. Then, the doorman smiles politely at your approach and opens the door for you, giving Vergil the opportunity to slink in after you when he walks away.

He quietly shuts the door behind him and creeps among the shadows of the room, checking for any sign of the couple being aware of an uninvited guest. But you have them wrapped around your finger, completely infatuated and fawning over your every move as you lead them to a large couch in the corner. He leans against the opposite wall as you guide the woman to sit down and halt the young man from following suit by gently placing your hand on his chest.        

“Ladies first.”

The young man shivers and nods his head in understanding. He moves to stand by the young woman while you sit beside her, giving Vergil a perfect view as the climax of your hunt begins. You cup her face and bring her in close, only stopping a hair’s breadth from her lips as your hands slide down her neck. She whimpers and tries to lean in for a kiss, but you gently push her to lie down on the couch and continue to caress the curves of her body.

Vergil remains motionless as you lift the young woman’s dress up, spreading her legs to reveal her soaking wet panties. His cock twitches as you settle between her thighs, nipping at her skin while moving lower and lower…then, the woman gasps and her face contorts in pain for only a second before slacking in pleasure as your fangs sink into the prominent vein near her clothed sex.    

“Holy shit,” the young man grunts, palming his bulging crotch as he watches you partake of his lover.

Vergil finds himself mirroring the action, cupping his aching cock while taking in every detail of this depraved moment. The euphoric moans of the young woman as she writhes in pleasure on the couch has him itching to loosen his pants. But he resists the urge to touch himself and just continues to witness the power his Evening Star welds over these mortals.

You withdraw from the woman after drinking a couple more mouthfuls and pin the young man down with your lustful gaze. His eyes widen as you smack your red lips, letting out a pleased hum while drops of blood dribble down your chin. “What the fuck?!” he gasps with realization as you bend down and close the wounds on his lover’s thigh with a swipe of your tongue.

Vergil senses his fear and summons the Yamato at the ready for a quick getaway if needed. But you simply rush over to him in a mere second and place a single finger on his trembling lips. “Shh,” you coo, staring deeply into his eyes as you ease him to a state of total relaxation. His lips curve into a dopey smile as you circle around and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” you whisper while staring down at the blissed-out woman still laying on the couch.

“Y-yes!” he gasps as your fangs graze his ear. “I love her so much,” he tacks on with genuine fondness, making your lips quirk into an amused smirk while prompting him to look at you once more.

“Be a good boy and feed your mistress.”

The young man turns around and bares his neck for you. He seems to melt in your embrace as you scrape your fangs against the pulsating vein. You peer over his shoulder before biting down, seemingly staring right where Vergil is standing in shadows. The young man grunts in pain as your fangs sink into his flesh, but then he moans as his body quakes in pleasure.

Vergil’s grip on the Yamato tightens as his other hand moves on its own accord, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants while you enjoy your second drink of the night. He quietly hisses as his cock springs free from its tight confines, already engorged and weeping white droplets at the tip. His blatant gaze never wavers from your mesmerizing stare as he finally succumbs to his deepest desire and begins pleasuring himself. He grits his teeth with every pump of his hand, consciously holding back any grunts and growls that try to escape his throat. The intense yearning from earlier overtakes his mind, hardening his cock even more with the thought of you handling mortals like mere playthings.

After a few more moments of silently watching each other, you release the young man’s neck with a pleased hiss. Your tongue closes his wounds with a quick lick before relinquishing him from your grasp. You softly gasp and cover your delighted smirk with a dainty hand as you examine the huge wet spot on the front of his pants.

“Looks like somebody got too excited!” you playfully note while directing him to sit next to his lover on the couch. “But that’s alright,” you sigh as the young man just smiles happily, totally oblivious to coming undone by your sensual bite alone. “I know exactly what you need for round two,” you divulge with a wicked gleam in your eye as you take a seat between them.

Vergil pauses at your mysterious words and quirks his eyebrow when you prick your middle finger with one of your fangs. “Both of you have pleased your mistress greatly,” you gush while holding your hand over to the young woman. “So as a reward…” you murmur as a few droplets of your blood drips between her parted lips.

The young woman lets out an ecstatic cry as your thick and redolent nectar touches her tongue. You let her suckle on your finger for a moment before giving the young man his fair share of his prize. He also cries out at the taste of your blood, eagerly lapping every drop off your finger. The front of his pants grow tight with his reinvigorated arousal while his lover rubs her cunt through her drenched panties.

You get up from the couch and stare at the hedonistic couple with a satisfied smile. “I suggest you fuck each other hard and rough,” you coax with a provocative purr. “Oh! And one more thing,” you quickly add while cupping both of their enraptured faces. “After you both come…” you trail off as they meet your entrancing gaze, remaining still and silent until he hears you whispering your final command.

FORGET.

Vergil sees the light in their eyes glaze over as you slowly retreat from the couch. He swiftly puts his cock away and waits until you’re close enough to pounce on you. His arm encircles your waist before dragging you back into the shadows.  

“You shine so brightly, my Evening Star,” he whispers fondly, earning a quiet giggle and soft whimper from you as he nibbles your ear.

Your head tilts to the side as you look up at him from the corner of your eye. “Enjoy the show, my love?” you inquire with a naughty grin while grinding against his crotch.  

“Immensely.”

“Mmm…I’ll say!” you quietly exclaim with glee while eyeing his straining cock.

You suddenly become a blur of motion before his eyes, completely taking him off guard as he leans back against the wall. His head snaps down to see his pants by his knees and you licking the underside of his cock, pulling a surprised grunt from him while the sound of passionate sex fills the air. You gesture with your head towards the swooning couple, subtly prodding him to watch as they fulfill your request.

Vergil beholds the scene of pure debauchery just a few feet in front of him: torn clothes strewn across the floor surround the couple vigorously making love on the couch. He focuses on the lady bouncing up and down in the young man’s lap, admiring her swaying breasts as she struggles to keep up with her lover’s fast pace. His curious gaze lingers down to where they’re connected, so wet and slippery as they slap against each other over and over. He feels your mouth sink all the way down his cock as both of their cries of shared ecstasy stoke the flames of his desire.  

You waste no time with your usual teasing and start sucking him off with the fervor of a wanton harlot, eagerly bobbing your head in time with the couple’s raunchy pace. Their litany of shameless moans drown out his approving growl as he cups the back of your head and thrusts his hips to meet every downstroke of your mouth. He can feel his cock growing more taut against your tongue while the tightening sensation of imminent release pools below his belly. The hand clenching the Yamato starts to shake as he pursues that blessed peak of pleasure, approaching fast and getting closer and closer and closer…  

The private room’s door abruptly bursts open, startling both him and the randy couple but not you in the slightest. A strange sensation swathes him with a spine-tingling chill as a doorman hurries inside and begins asking the couple to get dressed. Your lips curl into knowing smirk around his cock, still sucking with gusto as his heart begins to pound with the thrill of getting caught.

The doormen turns his head towards your hiding spot in the shadowy corner. Vergil takes the Yamato in both hands and presses its sheath against the back of your head, effectively barring you from making any more movement. But that doesn’t stop your tongue from lavishing his shaft…nor your hands from caressing his innermost thighs. He purses his lips and glares down at you in warning while attempting to remain silently composed.

You look up at his scowling face as your fangs elongate in defiance, grazing the silky skin around the base of his cock. The lone doorman comes closer, peering at the darkened corner as you stroke and squeeze his balls. The preserve thought of coming undone in front of a total stranger makes his pleasure soar sky high, climbing higher and higher until his impending release starts to curl and crest…and despite his best efforts to stubbornly resist, he comes crashing down with a restrained roar at the back of this throat.

Vergil watches as the doorman scratches his head in confusion, seemingly unaware of a devilish intruder emptying his load into your mouth. He doesn’t dare to move with the doorman standing so close, resigning to just enjoy the decadence of such carnal delights as the last tremors of his orgasm leaves him breathless. But the doorman eventually departs with the perplexed couple in tow, finally giving both of you respite from the utterly tense yet highly arousing situation. He glances down at you through half-lidded eyes, noting the white streaks of his seed leaking down your pretty chin with a gratified hum.    

Your lips curve into a pleased grin as you pull his spent cock out of your mouth. He knows that you can’t partake of his seed, but the thought of you spitting it out seems like a waste. So, he sweeps you up into his arms before you find a trash bin and captures your lips with a hungry kiss. You throw your arms around his neck as he pries your mouth open, softly moaning while thick white cum trickles down on his waiting tongue. He swings you around and presses your back against the wall, eagerly drinking every last drop before tearing away from your lush lips with a low growl.

“I have half a mind to punish you for your disobedience,” he scolds with an irritable snarl.    

“Even though you liked it?” you point out with an amused giggle. “You shouldn’t have let me taste you again if you really wanted to berate me for fulfilling your voyeuristic fantasies,” you point out while licking your lips with a satisfied hum. His brow twitches at your response but he doesn’t deny that he enjoyed the rush of adrenaline when the doorman unknowingly looked straight at him. You smile knowingly as he lowers you down to the ground with an indignant huff.

“And don’t worry, my love,” you coo softly as he makes himself presentable again. “I cloaked us both in the shadows of their mind, so we weren’t in any real danger of being caught.”

Vergil pauses as he remembers the strange sensation that overtook him when the doorman showed up. “You’ve failed to mention that you can extend that deceptive power to me,” he mutters with a suspicious squint while zipping up his pants and buckling his belt.

“It must’ve slipped my mind,” you note with a nonchalant shrug and cheeky grin.

A rumbling growl emanates from his throat as he crowds you against the wall with his looming height. “Such insolence will not go unpunished, my dear.”

You nip your lower lip with a single fang as his hand slides up along the slit of your dress before slipping between your legs. He softly growls while stroking you over the flimsy fabric of your panties, utterly pleased by slick essence of your sex dripping down his long fingers. You whimper as he shows off just how wet you are by bringing his hand up close to his face before licking a finger clean. Then, he presses another glistening finger against your lips, silently demanding you to open your mouth while gazing down at you with dark promise in his eyes. You hum indulgently while sucking his finger clean before titillating him with your brazen response to his enticing threat.          

“I can’t wait to see what you have in store for me, my love.”    

I’d like to thank @bettybattaglia for her galaxy brain idea of champagne guzzling and heel licking! And I gotta give a shout to all my fellow judgement sluts in the discord server for encouraging this filth! 😂🙈

Tagging: @drusoona @exsultry @tehrevving @varen-neoraven @shiranyaaww

[infinitevariety]

May Your Days Be Merry

Having never been able to celebrate previously, Aziraphale and Crowley decide to embrace the festive season and make the most of their first December together since the world didn’t end.

Chapter Seven: Blankets (AO3)

Crowley and Aziraphale get cosy and watch Christmas films (Or: Oh no, there’s only one blanket!)

There is a large van parked up outside the bookshop when Crowley arrives. He sees a man exit the shop, close the back door of the van, hop into the cab, and drive away. Crowley rubs his hands together in anticipation as he pushes open the shop door and steps inside.

“Oh no, not more, I thought you said that was the last?”

“Angel?”

“Oh Crowley, it’s you, thank goodness.”

Aziraphale is, once again, standing amongst a sea of boxes. At least this time, Crowley knows exactly what’s in them.

“They all arrived then? That’s good.”

“What on Earth have you had sent here? They’re all addressed to you!”

“Well that one—” Crowley points to the large, flat box right in front of Aziraphale. “—will be the television.”

“Television? I don’t want a television. If I’d wanted a television I would have got one years ago.”

“That may be, but for my festive, relaxing, just for us plans, a television is needed.” Crowley sees Aziraphale take a breath, and before he can start bemoaning the invention of visual media, Crowley continues. “If after today you don’t want to keep it we can take it back, or donate it to some good cause. You don’t have to keep it.”

Aziraphale harrumphs, but gives a stiff nod of agreement.

“There should be a blu-ray player and some Christmas films in here somewhere, too.” Crowley gets stuck in sorting out the boxes.

Aziraphale seems to perk up at the words ‘Christmas films’ and Crowley inwardly cheers.

“And what about the rest of them? What exactly is it you have planned?” asks Aziraphale.

“There’s a bunch of cosy stuff in the other parcels. Blankets, popcorn, Christmas pillows, sweets, a bit of festive fancy dress fun… I’ll leave those boxes for you while I take the TV upstairs and get it set up, okay?”

Aziraphale is staring open mouthed at Crowley, the only movement a rapid blinking of his eyes.

“Angel? What is it?”

Aziraphale’s mouth snaps shut and then he says, “You bought blankets, and food, and festive fancy dress?”

“Yes?” says Crowley, suddenly worried he’s done the wrong thing. “If you don’t want—”

“I want!” Aziraphale quickly assures him. “I want. You go—” He makes a shooing motion with his hands at Crowley. “—do what you need to with that contraption. I’ll open the important boxes.”

Crowley grins freely as he grabs the things he needs and manhandles them up the stairs to Aziraphale little-used flat.

The set up doesn’t take long, when it’s being done by an occult being who doesn’t expect it to take long, and in no time the TV and blu-ray player are ready to go. Crowley fiddles with the remote, finding a channel playing nothing but a roaring log fire, and relaxes back on the flat’s lesser used sofa.

“Did you want the Santa hat or the antlers?” asks Aziraphale as he wanders into the room, arms full of swag from the boxes.

Before Crowley can answer, Aziraphale looks up and sees the fire on the TV. He oohs appreciatively, and Crowley gives himself another pat on the back.

“I’ll take the antlers, obviously.” Crowley extracts them from Aziraphale’s full arms and places them on his head.

“Obviously?”

“They’re basically horns.”

Aziraphale snorts, dropping the rest of the things on the sofa beside Crowley and ramming the Santa hat on his head. He looks adorable.

“You look adorable.”

“Well, thank you, my dear.” Aziraphale looks away and turns ever so slightly pink. “I’ll just make the popcorn, shall I?”

Aziraphale grabs a couple of packets of popcorn and disappears into the flat’s kitchen. Soon enough the sound of popping kernels can be heard. Crowley dives into the other bits and bobs Aziraphale brought up, finding several cushions, bags of pick and mix, bottles of wine, and… a solitary blanket.

“Aziraphale, you only brought one blanket up!” he calls out to be heard over the popping in the kitchen.

The popping stops and a few seconds later Aziraphale appears in the doorway holding a bowl piled high with popcorn.

“I’m afraid there was only one blanket delivered, my dear.”

“What? I ordered about five! Right—” Crowley fishes his mobile phone from his pocket. “—let me call the shop, that’s not on. I’ll give them a piece of my mind until they agree to hand deliver a load more blankets.”

“Oh, Crowley, no. No, please, don’t bother.” Aziraphale rushes over, depositing the popcorn on the coffee table and grasping Crowley’s wrist. “It’s fine. We can can manage with one blanket, it seems plenty big enough!”

Crowley looks up at Aziraphale and frowns. “Are you sure? I wanted you to be able to get as comfy and cosy as possible. How will you be able to do that with just one blanket?”

Aziraphale releases Crowley’s wrist and holds his hand instead. “Oh, we’ll manage,” he says as he squeezes Crowley’s hand.

Crowley squeezes back and smiles.

“So,” says Aziraphale as he drops down on the sofa beside Crowley and throwing the blanket over the pair of them, “what film are we watching first?”

“Definitely this one.” Crowley holds up a DVD.

“Miracle on 34th Street,” Aziraphale reads from the cover.

“You’re going to love it, angel.”

Aziraphale does love it. He awws over the young girl and her disbelief in Santa, he gasps at the arrest and mistreatment of Kris Kringle, and he sobs with joy at the city’s support and belief in him. Over the course of the film, while reaching for their glasses of wine and handfuls of popcorn, they inch closer together under the blanket.

Next, Crowley puts on The Grinch, hoping to elicit an eye roll and begrudging smile from Aziraphale at its over the top silliness but undeniable feel-good fun. He’s disappointed—Aziraphale laughs along with genuine delight the entire time, which is actually infinitely better.

Of the Grinch, Aziraphale says, “Oh look, Crowley, it’s you!”

“First of all, that shade of green is not my colour, and secondly… I’m not that bad am I?” Crowley can hear the slight whine in his own voice, but can’t prevent it. “I made mulled wine. I wore your ugly jumper. I’m here, wearing blasted antlers and watching Christmas films with you.”

Aziraphale’s face, previously alert and grinning, becomes soft. “No, my dear, you’re not that bad at all.” Underneath the blanket, Aziraphale’s hand comes to rest on Crowley’s knee.

By the third film they have cracked open the pick and mix, ready for a sugar high to see them through another few hours. When the Home Alone 2 titles start rolling, Aziraphale sits up, suddenly anxious.

“But I haven’t seen the first one!” he cries.

“There’s no need.” Crowley pulls at Aziraphale’s shoulder until he settles back on the sofa again, this time in the crook of Crowley’s arm. “This is exactly the same at the first film, except it’s set in New York and just… ten times more Christmassy.”

Aziraphale relaxes even further into Crowley, dropping his head to Crowley’s shoulder and pulling the blanket tighter around them both.

“New York always was nice in winter,” concedes Aziraphale.

When Crowley puts his personal favourite Christmas film on, Aziraphale becomes sceptical. Crowley expected this. He has had this debate with many people on twitter before, and he is prepared.

“How is this a Christmas film?”

All Crowley’s well-rehearsed arguments go flying out the window at Aziraphale’s mocking tone, and Crowley becomes nothing but petulant.

“It’s set at Christmas, during a Christmas party. It counts!”

“They didn’t even name it anything festive.”

“And what would you have called it? Saving the Ho-ho-hostages?”

“Die Hard This Christmas?” suggests Aziraphale immediately. “You’re a Mean One, Mr Gruber? Rocking Around the Nakatomi Tower?”

They stare at each other for a few seconds, film forgotten, before bursting into laughter.

The friendly debate and jokes continue throughout the film, and Crowley has never enjoyed watching Die Hard more.

Before they start another film, Crowley extracts himself from the warmth of the blanket—and the warmth of Aziraphale—to nip downstairs for more wine. He passes the open boxes and remembers that his reindeer antlers were supposed to come with a red nose. He kneels down and begins rooting through the masses of popcorn and sweets (he may have over ordered). Having no luck, he pulls out a box from underneath some others and looks inside. His mouth drops open at what he finds.

Dashing back up the stairs, box held in his hands and wine forgotten, Crowley bursts back into the flat’s small living room. Aziraphale is still curled up on the sofa with the one blanket he’d brought upstairs.

Crowley drops the open box containing the other four blankets he’d ordered to the floor at Aziraphale’s feet.

Aziraphale looks down at the box, then up at Crowley. “I can explain.”

Crowley opens his hands, palms up, to indicate that Aziraphale should.

“I got one blanket out of the box and hid the others under other boxes because… because I wanted to snuggle with you, Crowley. Five blankets and a mountain of pillows might be comfy, but it’s not as comfy as you.”

His face feeling flushed all of a sudden, Crowley smiles. “You could’ve just asked, angel.”

Aziraphale demurely looks away as he lifts one side of the blanket he’s still under. He turns back to look at Crowley.

“Will you please come and snuggle me, my dear?”

Before he's even finished speaking, Crowley is on the sofa, under the blanket, and in Aziraphale's arms.

“So,” says Crowley, voice muffled by speaking into Aziraphale’s chest, “shall I take the TV back to the shop tomorrow?”

“Well, now, let’s not be hasty,” says Aziraphale. “There are plenty more Christmas films to watch between now at the 25th.”

Crowley hides his grin under the blanket.

[readonline]

https://nyti.ms/3r9diMp 17, 2020 at 09:09PM

Modern Love

Auditioning for the Role of Boyfriend

When you have been strung along and ghosted by guys who play it cool, how do you handle a man who is adoring and sincere?

Credit...Brian Rea

By Amre Klimchak

It was nearly midnight by the time I reached Erica’s backyard party, after going to a concert in Prospect Park and taking a long subway ride to Williamsburg. Honestly, I was proud that I had managed to drag myself out at all.

I had been in the habit of canceling plans, too depressed to leave my apartment. My career had stalled. I’d just extricated myself from a long entanglement with an emotionally unavailable man. And my father had recently died from cancer only three months after his diagnosis.

The beers I had downed at the show were giving way to a gnawing hunger. Before me, on a dessert table, lay a sumptuous chocolate cake, but I couldn’t find any forks.

I turned to the guy next to me: “Do you know where the utensils are?” (I was ready to eat with my hands.)

He produced a plastic spoon. “No, but you can use mine if you want.”

“You don’t have any diseases or anything?”

“Nope.”

He seemed harmless and kind, so I grabbed the spoon, served myself a slice and walked away, shoveling mouthfuls.

Later, as I was leaving, I bumped into him again, and — no longer blinded by my appetite — I felt as if I were seeing him for the first time. Tan and handsome, he looked to be just shy of 30.

[Sign up for Love Letter, our weekly email about Modern Love, weddings and relationships.]

“I’m James,” he said. “How do you know Erica?”

“We work together,” I said. “I’m an audiobook producer, at least for now. I’m quitting soon.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to drive across the country with my dog, Reine.”

“Like ‘Travels With Charley,’” he said, referencing the famous Steinbeck book that I owned but hadn’t read. He was focused squarely on me, undistracted and earnest in a way I hadn’t experienced since moving to New York from Atlanta four years earlier.

“Maybe it’ll be like that,” I said. “I haven’t read it though.”

“Where are you going?”

“Everywhere. I have friends all over and family in the South, and eventually I’ll get to the West Coast.”

“I’m from Arkansas,” he said. “If you go through Little Rock, you can stay with my mom.”

I thought he might genuinely mean it. Southerners are known for their hospitality, after all. “That’d be great,” I said. “We’ll see.” I wasn’t sure how seriously to take him. “Well, I have to go now.”

“Have a good time on your trip!” He smiled, gazing at me intently.

Was he flirting? Most of my romantic prospects in New York had cultivated an air of disinterest, always scanning the room for better possibilities. I would connect with men only to have them ghost me. Assuming he was no different, I said, coolly, “Thanks, nice to meet you,” and sauntered off.

After Erica’s party, I thought about James but let go of the idea of him until a few days later, when Erica called me.

“My friend, James, is into you,” she said. “He said you made him ‘weak in the knees.’”

My heart somersaulted. “The one with the light-brown hair and great smile?”

“Yeah. He’s 23, but you’d never know.”

I gulped. I’d thought we were closer in age. “Never mind then,” I said. “I can’t date someone that young. Besides, he’ll lose interest when he finds out I’m 36.”

“He won’t care! I’ve known James for years. He’s an old soul. You should have a drink with him. Come on.”

For the past year I had rejected new romantic possibilities as I pursued my commitment-phobe. Now I was ready to move on.

“OK,” I said. I was nervous, but my father’s death had upended my life, bringing new urgency to changes I longed for.

“Fantastic! I’ll do an email introduction.”

Over the next hour, until I received her email, I checked my inbox approximately 316 times.

“James, meet Amre. Amre, meet James. Bye!”

This was all the encouragement James needed. He emailed right away with the subject line “Travels With Charley,” asking if I was free for a drink that weekend. He was following the basic recipe for successfully asking someone out: show clear interest and make a straightforward request. It sounds simple, but after a year of chasing a man who never once did that, I found James’s frankness to be an unexpected delight.

I told him I was available Sunday night. He promised to call that day to firm up plans. I was equal parts thrilled and terrified.

At 9 p.m. Sunday, I waited for James outside of one of my favorite Williamsburg beer bars, its outdoor garden perfect for a first date on a late summer night. He soon arrived, and we embraced. A sense of familiarity washed over me, as if we had done this before.

We sat outside under a bright moon as he asked about my road trip.

“My father passed away, and that’s why I’m going,” I said. There I was, being vulnerable with ease.

“I’m really sorry about your dad,” he said. “You’re brave to go by yourself with just your dog.”

“Thanks,” I said, blushing. “I don’t feel brave.”

Our voices floated along a light breeze as we confided our aspirations. James was an excellent listener and gifted storyteller. He had moved to New York on a Greyhound bus, which was the deciding factor in his current boss, a TV producer, hiring him. She thought he had more spunk than all the wealthy private-college grads who had applied. His ambition was to direct his own films, and I could see he was hard-working, driven and resourceful. I sensed myself falling.

At the evening’s end, he said, “Can I walk you home?”

When we arrived at my building on Kingsland Avenue, we stood at the bottom of the stairs, gazing into each other’s eyes. I was lightheaded with anticipation.

“I had such a good time tonight,” he said. “I have a crush on you, and I’d like to take you out again.”

“I’d love to.” I turned my face to meet his lips in a long kiss under the moonlight.

About two minutes after our date ended, I started to obsess. I couldn’t help it.

The next morning at work, my mind kept drifting toward our possible future together. Since he knew I was leaving in several weeks, did he see me as a pleasant diversion? Should I even bother to bring up the matter of our age difference? Would that ruin everything?

Over the next few weeks, the relationship blossomed. We watched “Pierrot le Fou,” ate vegetarian food and listened to soul music. We decided at midnight one evening to drive to Coney Island and drink wine on a blanket under the stars. I wasn’t afraid to tell him he was a frequent visitor to my dreams. He assured me he’d been dreaming of me too. Our gap in age seemed unimportant, but we still hadn’t discussed it.

After Labor Day, I worked up the courage to ask what had been simmering in my brain for weeks: “I think I know the answer to this, but are you seeing anyone else?”

“I can’t imagine wanting to see anyone else.” His guilelessness melted my anxiety.

I told him about the guy who had kept me hanging as he saw other women, worried that I was exposing too much about my past relationships.

“Well, I was seeing about nine people,” he said, “but I managed to squeeze out the other eight for you.”

We laughed, my fears vanishing.

A week later, we were circling the McCarren Park track with Reine when I asked James if he wanted to meet me on my road trip.

His response meandered as he found his way to the point: “I don’t know if you’re looking for a boyfriend, but if you are, I’m auditioning for the part.”

I was stunned. I had not had any romantic interest ask to be my boyfriend since I was in junior high. It was such a refreshing change from the ambiguity I’d suffered through with all of the men I’d been attracted to in New York.

A week before I left, James was helping me pack one evening when I finally decided I needed to reveal my age and see how he reacted. “I have to tell you something,” I said. “I’m 36.”

“Are you sure you’re not lying?” he said, teasing.

“Why would I lie?” I said.

“But you’re just so good looking.”

I thought he was joking and started to laugh, but he looked hurt.

“It’s not a joke,” he said. “I’m serious.”

As it turned out, James had discovered my age through an old online profile. He had known all along.

Four and a half years later, we were walking around the McCarren Park track when he stopped and said, “I don’t know if you’re looking for a husband, but if you are, I’m auditioning for the part.”

And now we call McCarren Park “Marriage Park.”

Amre Klimchak teaches and advises at CUNY’s LaGuardia Community College.

Modern Love can be reached at modernlove@nytimes.com.

To find previous Modern Love essays, Tiny Love Stories and podcast episodes, visit our archive.

Want more from Modern Love? Watch the TV series; sign up for the newsletter; or listen to the podcast on iTunes, Spotify or Google Play. We also have swag at the NYT Store and two books, “Modern Love: True Stories of Love, Loss, and Redemption” and “Tiny Love Stories: True Tales of Love in 100 Words or Less.”

From Modern Love

[report47]

'I once ate Fela Kuti's cake baked with marijuana and it landed me in a hospital' - Senator Babafemi Ojodu

Senator Babafemi Ojudu, the special adviser on Political Matters at the Presidency has revealed how following Fela Anikulapo Kuti on a trip and unknowingly eating his sponge cake, baked with marijuana, landed him in the hospital in Mushin, Lagos, in the 1990s.   Read his article below in celebration of 2019 Felabration.. This is Fela’s week. We must continue to thank Femi, Yeni and their siblings as well as the devotees of The Shrine for keeping the memory of our icon alive. What they are doing billions of Naira left by the rich could not do for the departed owner. Which is to say do what is worthy, and not stash up wealth and materials things. All of that will never keep your memory in the minds of the living. This piece is on a lighter mood, an anecdote to further give us an idea of the free spirit of the man who had death in his pouch and will never die, our own Anikulapo – Kuti. I remember when Fela changed his name from Ransome – Kuti to Anikulapo- Kuti and his elder Brother was asked why he didn’t go with him in the change of name business, his retort was that Fela never discussed it with him. He went further to say “ I am a medical doctor who is trained to stave off death how then can I say I have death in my pouch.” Prof Olikoye had a wry sense of humour and he was a delight to be with particularly when in company of his maverick siblings. This is not the koko (focus) of this piece. It is a different matter altogether. Read it and laugh. We all need laughter to ease the tension of these times. Now you have seen the title of this piece. Don’t start judging me. I can see some of my enemies, old boy many they are, saying ah amugbo ti e ni. No wonder ki gbo, ki gba ( he a hemp smoker; no wonder he is stubborn). No, I never smoked and will not do although I love the swag of the revolutionary Che Guevara holding the tobacco. Do try and read this as you follow me on a journey with Abami Eda, Fela Anikulapo – Kuti. This is not astral travel. It is real. It was a journey I made with him in 1990(? ). Beko Ransome Kuti and his comrades in trouble, Gani Fawehinmi, Femi Falana,  Baba Omojola and I think that young man then, Mayegun, the one with dada (dreadlocks) hair on his head made a lot of noise in Lagos questioning the authority of Ibrahim Babangida, our then military President. I learnt the man with the gap-tooth had sleepless nights. Our activist brothers even threatened to organize a sovereign national conference. The conference was not the problem but the word ‘sovereign’ just as now that protest is not the problem but the phrase ‘revolution now’. Let me not put my feet on a treason ground, a dangerous path to tread. As I was saying our brothers, (no woman among them), the Beijing Conference had not held then, were arrested and taken to Abuja. Before we could locate them they have been charged with treasonable felony and remanded in Kuje Prison. Hearing in their case was to come up in a Kuje Magistrate Court some days after to determine if they qualified to be bailed or not. To cut a long story short and not delay this trip, we the activists, from veterans to rookies mobilized to give support to our comrades in Abuja on the chosen day. Fela too was not left out. The abami eda hardly left his house except when on foreign tours or had a show in some parts of Nigeria. He offered to be part of the Lagos crowd storming Abuja. It was exciting that he chose to go. There will be drama with his presence and that we reasoned will provide a good copy for the media both local and international. It was my lot to travel with him and some of his aides as well as three of his numerous wives. Apart from we humans he had with him, there were three pillows and a big piece of home-baked cake. The pillows were meant to support his bum. He suffered then from a chronic case of haemorrhoid. The cake was to be our snack to and fro. As we set out he regaled us with stories. You cannot but laugh at Fela stories. He said looking back he considers himself stupid for singing “ my darling valentine” at a point in his musical career. He made jest of Beko and his human rights campaigner crowd and said a lot of self-deprecating things. I didn’t only enjoy stories but guffaw as I helped myself with his my share of his cake. I have never had any cake that delicious. I learnt from him it was called sponge cake. Sponge cake? Iyen tun yato (that is different). The onijekuje (glutton) that I was then, had a fill going to Abuja and returning! Fela got to Abuja, spread his mat on the floor in front of the court and laid face down while people trooped to see abami himself. It was a rare life opportunity, particularly for northerners who had heard of him but had never seen him live. Case called. The accused persons to our utter surprise were granted bail. Of course, there had been an outcry in the media and internationally. Bail was a face-saving measure for the then Babangida regime. There was jubilation and back-slapping. Lagos here we come. Abuja was like a no-no for many of us at that time. It was a bourgeois enclave where we reasoned the national wealth was stolen. We set out. Fella puffed on his Obiaruku jumbo wrap. We became passive smokers. It was not only that day I have passive smoked Igbo around Fela. If you were a journalist at this period or human rights activist, you have a sit at a special location at the Shrine. Dele Omotunde, that great journalist, now a Redeem Church pastor, Lanre Arogundade, Femi Falana, Chuzi Udenwa, also now a pastor in the US among several others, were devotees of the Shrine and we had our special place then. I once returned home one day at about 4.00 am and had my headlight and my gaze and steps not stable. It took three days of sleeping before I recovered. On our way back from Abuja to Lagos, I continued sponging on  Fela’s cake. We arrived Akure and decided to refuel and empty our bowels. Chief Fawehinmi visited the bathroom. We almost lost him that night. If you know how spiritedly he walked you will imagine what I am talking about. Not seeing the drainage on his path he slipped into it one leg first and fell hard. We rushed to pull him up. It was scary. We thanked God then he didn’t hit his head on the concrete floor. We proceeded on our journey to Lagos eating Fela’s sponge as if it was going out of fashion. We arrived Lagos and I left for my home. The following morning I found myself in the heart of Mushin where Beko had his clinic being attended to by Dr Balogun. No one could explain what the matter was with me. I couldn’t decode it neither the doctor could. It was assumed it was exhaustion. And I was placed on intravenous drip. Later in the evening, Beko came to see me on my sickbed as he resumed his daily consultation at the poor folks’ enclave. “What is the matter with you”, he asked. Feeling dizzy, couldn’t stand on my feet and my head spinning, I told him. What did you eat in the morning? Nothing, I said. What of yesterday, he asked? I only had cake, I told him. “You bought it”, he asked. I took from the cake Fela brought along to Abuja, I said. “Ha ha ha”, he smiled wryly. “O lo je cake Fela ?” ( you ate Fela’s cake)? Igbo lo je yen ( you ate Indian hemp. It was then I discovered that Fela baked his cake with hemp soaked water. Happy Felabration!

Read the full article

[imagine-loki]

Across The Divide

TITLE: Across The Divide CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Sixteen AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki sneaking out of the palace as a youth to see the city and countryside, while out one day, he accidentally gets in trouble for something, but a young girl deals with the situation, allowing him to be left alone and his true identity be kept secret. She is a poor girl who is only in the city to sell goods with her father, so she does not realise it is Loki, even though she sees his face. They form a friendship as she shows him around the city, and tells him the date she comes to the city every month for a particular market. RATING: Teen and Up

Loki stood in front of the Lords that made up his council colleagues, one as fat and privileged as the next. He watched as Lord Ivan entered the room, with something that finally made him understand the word his mother had called a swag. He looked at Loki with a sly grin on his face, one that made Loki want to go and shake the life out of him, but he refrained, instead, he acted blissfully unaware of everything, the Lord had not realised Thor had heard of his plans, so the element of surprise, much to Lord Ivan's surprise, was not with him. "Lord Ivan, this is most irregular, is everything alright?"

"Some issues need to be attended to, your highness." Ivan grinned, "I am aware you are eager to amendments you wish to make."

"Yes, of course, it is most basic, a standard to basic living for orphaned children, warmth, basic amounts of food, nothing taxing." Loki feigned innocence, his mother often said it was terrifying, the more he knew and planned, the more he could act as though he knew nothing.

"Yes, well, there is issues in policing such matters, that is the issue."

"I cannot see an issue, we have magistrates in each town, there are schools that will note a malnourished or under cared for child, since all are supposed to be in school, and who can report to the magistrate and have the law enforcement in that area investigate, it is so simple really, it is a wonder it was not done before."

"The cost and manpower it will require, however…" Ivan began to explain.

"It is hardly any extra cost, those are the outlines of their basic duties as it is." Loki rubbished. "I cannot see how this negatively effects anyone bar the abusive. I cannot see reason for you to object to this Ivan on anything other than you being affected by it?" The insulted look on the Lord's face answered Loki's accusation. "So why object?" There was no answer. "We shall put it to a vote, shall we, I believe that though Asgard has a monarchy, it should be a fair system." Loki turned and nodded to the guard at the door, who opened it to reveal Thor, who strutted into the room, grinning widely. "As heir to the Aesir crown, a Lord in his own right and a high ranking member of Asgard's army, my brother Thor shall be the one to adjudicate over the vote to ensure fairness. He is not involved in this council, so I think him the fairest adjudicator, any objections?" The room remained silent.

"Let us get on with it then," Ivan growled, turning to face the other lords, wanting to get the farce over as quick as possible, to stop Loki's interfering with the realm and its current method of running.

"One more moment." The Lord scowled but his face turned to one of confusion as Loki smirked, "We need to have the count registered."

"Registered?" Several Lords seemed unsure what he meant.

"Yes, Someone will document who voted which way," Loki explained plainly.

"Why in the realms would we do such a thing?" Ivan demanded, repulsed by the idea.

"Because the people need to know what representatives they have on the council and how they voted and more importantly, know how their issues are being dealt with in a clear and incorrupt manner," Loki chuckled, "I mean, they could accuse us of plotting against an individual, or a coup if we are not honest from the go. If a representative lies to their workers and says they will vote one way and then go another, the people need to know, they need to be able to get answers."

More than a few lords went pale at such a thought, two shouted in anger, Ivan stared in open-mouthed disbelief. "It is not the way it is done."

"Correction, it is not the way it WAS done, now it will be the way it is done. Any that have issue, take it up with the Allfather." Loki could not help the gleeful smirk on his face, Thor, for his part, chuckled, his muscular arms folded as he watched the scene in front of him, which was just as entertaining as Loki promised it would be. "Now, we need a magistrate. I hear your daughter is one for such positions Lord Ullr, is she not?"

The Lord looked at the prince with uncertainty in his face. "Yes, she has a passion for such things, but her gender, as you can imagine…"

"Gives her no favours in her quest to pertain such roles," Loki nodded. "Have her sent for at once, she shall become our magistrate."

Ullr looked at the prince with pride and delight. "Of course, your highness, I cannot express to you of how honoured she will be." The Lord rushed to the door to have his daughter sent for.

"My mother recommends her highly." Loki looked back to the other Lords, his plan coming to fruition in front of him. He had chosen Ullr because, though he was not influential, he was an ordinary Lord, not a higher ranking one; he had not been brought in by Ivan's plan, giving his family such a role would show the lesser titled men that such loyalty was to be rewarded. "While we await the Lady Sif, let us go through the legislation as it stands, and my amendments to it, and please, I beseech you, any that have a question, no matter how menial, do not hesitate to speak up. If I have overlooked something, I am only too delighted to have it pointed out if it means we get this done right."

With Thor sitting to his right, and the young and bright Lady Sif to the left, Loki presided over the proceeding with a grin on his face that terrified Ivan. As expected, with accountability, many Lords abandoned their promises to Ivan and his attempts to get Loki to willingly walk away from his position. The amendment was passed by a majority, a very thin one, but fifty-one percent was still a higher number than forty-nine, and that was all that counted. Many of those who realised that they have lost seemed very uncomfortable in their seats, Ivan thought Loki to be bluffing and watched with almost denial as Sif wrote every name down in the ledger Thor had given to her. When, at the end, Thor walked over and took the ledger from the girl, Ivan thought that the prince was going to bring it away and discard it, that Loki was all theatrics and bluff, but instead, Thor turned and gave it to his brother. "What with it now?"

"The Lady Sif and I will bring it to the palace magistrate, who will have it reprinted to as many copies as are necessary and sent to every town hall on Asgard. I will send the original to father as proof of our work and have him amend the law as is necessary, and then, we begin the next order of business." Loki smiled.

"Wait, you cannot seriously give this to the people? What use have they for it?" Ivan demanded.

Loki turned around, his face cold and his eyes focused on the Lord. "I am as serious as heart failure Ivan and as for the people and their use of it, you forget how politics work, it is so simple really. If people do not like what they are getting for their money, they can call for change, if enough people call upon my father to have a Lord dealt with, he has to listen. The needs of the peasant many far surpass the wealthy few." Loki growled, he walked forward, close enough so only the Lord could hear him. "This is only a taste of what happens when someone crosses me, when someone who thinks himself a man runs to my father to cry and complain that I am too strong for him, too wild for him to tame like a little pup to sit obediently at his feet. you thought I would not find out what you had schemed? You are lucky I am feeling so generous this day Ivan, for I would watch you burn upon a pyre if I did not feel as I do." he swore, turning and indicating for Thor and Sif to follow.

*

Loki looked at Ariella as she slept. She looked no different from when he saw her last, her skin still like paper over her bones, her eyes still closed and her breathing, though deeper, was still harsh. "She has had no negative reaction to the food," Eir told him as she walked over to her charge.

"Neither has she had a positive one though, right?"

"Sadly, there is no change."

"Her breathing is different."

"Yes, the clean warm air is doing her some good. You say she was in a barn before?"

"A stable, a cold and draughty one."

"It makes sense then."

"Is there anything…"

"My prince, I told you already, it all depends on her getting through these first days," Eir stated kindly.

"I know." He looked at his friend for a moment. "I know you are busy, and with Ariella, even more so, but may I ask something of you?"

"You may ask, but I may not be able to assist," Eir stated, listening intently.

"Can you make a list, saying all of her illnesses and issues, I want to ensure those who made her suffer are forced to pay for this."

Eir looked at the young girl, who was fighting so ardently, yet not able to fight any longer. "I cannot say 'it will be my pleasure' as to say that means I take pleasure in her suffering, but in all honesty, nothing will give me as good a night's as knowing the wheel is turning, change is happening." The healer smiled. "Have you told her yet?"

"What is the point?" Loki looked at Ariella, her eyes closed and her body still.

"Her sleep is one of seidr induction, if she is healing, she could hear you," Eir explained. "There is no guarantee, but she may get comfort in your being here if she is aware of it." she walked off to begin her work to assist Loki, leaving the prince to sit next to his friend.

"I am trying to right the wrongs even more now, Ari," he explained. "I had my father change the law, through an amendment." He paused for a moment and sighed, Ariella would not have an idea what in the realms that meant. "I got put as a chair of a council, the one that deals with commoner issues, and I had a law changed, so that I can help you, help people like you. It is working, and it is going to do so much Ari, wait and see." He stopped for a moment, "Please, please wake up, I want you to see. I want you to see that you are so important, you are getting the realm to change. You are so important to everyone Ari, especially me."

[alexandramacadamblogs]

The Overwatch League Hosts Clearly Need Our Fashion Advice

Overwatch League has a talent desk crowded with men who can’t seem to find a button-up shirt that fits them. But every now and then, the hosts step out of the box and show off a look that catches the eye, one way or another. I sat down with Kotaku’s seasoned fashion writer Gita Jackson to run down the OWL hosts’ outfits in Stage 1.

Maddy: Hi Gita! So, for the purposes of this fashion rundown, I didn’t choose outfits for every on-camera person, because there are 14 regulars at this point, and that’s just too many people. Most of them wear button-ups with the occasional jacket, and I included some of that, but I’m also excited to talk about the moments when hosts stepped out of that box.

On traditional sports broadcasts, we’re all familiar with the ill-fitting three-piece suits on every talent desk. Esports broadcasts tend to give off a more casual vibe, but there are few longstanding conventions for how esports hosts “should” look. OWL has seemed uncertain, overall, about how formally their hosts should dress. Should they be in casual long-sleeve T-shirts that look comfy but clean? Or should they be in three-piece suits and cocktail dresses? The stylists for the show have run the gamut with their answers.

I want to start with Christopher “MonteCristo” Mykles. Recently, I called him out for wearing a baggy pink T-shirt with suspenders. The suspenders are actually a Monte staple from his League of Legends casting days. On OWL, he’s paired the suspenders with some other looks, most notably this tie:

(image via Twitter)

Gita: Oh jeez. That’s an adventurous tie, but the fit on that shirt is awful. He’s swimming in it. Especially compared to the guy he’s standing next to, who looks like he’s been to a tailor at least once in his life.

Maddy: What’s your position on suspenders in general? I think they can look good if the shirt has a snug fit. In Monte’s case, it seems like the stylists just haven’t yet found shirts that fit him. I can’t figure out what the problem is with that, by the way, because it doesn’t seem to be the case for all of the hosts.

I also feel I should note that I actually like his tie. Even though some people on Twitter did make fun of it.

Gita: I think his tie owns, the tie haters can suck it. I’m with you on suspenders. They’re a little twee, but if the rest of your outfit is perfect, you can make them work. With a shirt that baggy you 1) don’t even see the suspenders and 2) look like you’re wearing them to distract from your ill-fitting shirt. I feel like the fit issue comes mostly from the sleeves here, and it might just be that Monte is a skinny guy and shirts fit a little weird on them. But I feel like Blizzard has money for a tailor.

Maddy: I have a theory that the stylists are sharing clothes between hosts. Not literally, but in preparing for this article I’ve noticed some patterns. For example, the pink shirt that I mocked Monte for wearing keeps popping up on other hosts. Probably not the exact same shirt, but the same idea!

Jonathan “Reinforce” Larsson in the photo below looks like he’s swimming in the thing. I admire whoever is trying to get these esports men to wear pink, but I think the quest would go a lot better if the pink shirts fit anyone.

(image via Twitter)

Gita: In that picture, look how professional and put together Wilkinson and Gschwind look next to Larsson, who looks like he’s LARPing as his dad. You can wear literally almost anything if it fits correctly, I promise.

Maddy: I know!! The stylists have to give these guys shirts that fit, because the whole “esports is LARPing as tsports and also their dads” thing becomes so much more apparent when they swim in their clothes.

Let us now transition to the world of sweaters—some good, some bad. Here’s Monte wearing a sweater that I didn’t like at first, but it grew on me. Then there’s also Erik Lonnquist wearing a shirt that subtly whispers “gamer.” I saved this photo as an example of a sweater I didn’t hate, but maybe we should talk about Lonnquist and his tendency to always button up shirts all the way to the top. You’ll recall Lonnquist, of course, as the guy with the slick plaid jacket that you liked a couple minutes ago.

Gita: Honestly...... I really like Lonnquist’s look? I like that he buttons his shirts all the way. It’s a tiny bit hipster-y, but it works with the scruffy beard and glasses.

Monte’s look is a lot more subtle, but it’s growing on me. Together they both look like Guys You Can Grab A Beer With, which I would imagine is the vibe OWL wants to cultivate.

Maddy: I have another sweater here that I’m going to need you to either talk me into, or we can agree that it was a mistake. I’ve got a couple of photos of it, and I’m going to take you on a journey. Again, you are welcome to love the looks that I do not love. That’s why you’re here.

Gita: Mostly I love a scruffy nerd with glasses, but that’s my bias showing.

Maddy: Good news: that is almost everyone in OWL.

Gita: Why haven’t I been watching OWL again?

Maddy: Part one: this is a photo of Alex “Goldenboy” Mendez from the back, wearing a sweater that looks a little unusual. When you see this photo, you might think, I want to see more! Maybe it’s good!

(image via Overwatch League)

Gita: Okay.... with you so far..... The texture here is very nice, I’ll say. Looks comfortable.

Maddy: It does look very comfortable. But let’s see it from the front.

(image via Twitter)

Maddy: I don’t know. Honestly? Maybe it’s fine. Maybe it is actually good. Help. Help me understand.

Gita: Maddy, I have a story to tell you.

One time, at a day job, my boss came in and I could tell he though he looked like hot shit. He was really swagged out, kept talking about how his suit was so comfortable. It had somehow entirely skipped his notice that he was wearing silky pajamas as a suit.

That sweater looks like pajamas. A cardigan without buttons can really work, but it’s kind of an edgy look BECAUSE it is so close to pajamas. You’d expect to see that paired with more of a like, Japanese urban street wear outfit.

Maddy: Even though I don’t love this, I do applaud the audacity of the stylist who chose this. It almost seems like an intentional dig at Goldenboy, who I almost never see without a jacket. I expected him to shine in this roundup, since normally, he dresses like this:

(image via Twitter)

Gita: I fucking love this shirt. LOVE it. He looks so put together. Whoever put those patterns together is a genius. The ditzy floral print with the oversized check is just busy enough that it looks young and stylish, but not so much that it looks clumsy.

Maddy: Yeah, he looks fantastic, right? But his OWL looks have included That Bathrobe Sweater, and also, some other surprisingly casual choices, like this one. By the way, he’s talking to Malik Forté here, who is also sporting a more casual look. Again, I can’t figure out the rhyme or reason as to why sometimes the guys are in cocktail attire, and other times they’re in chill loungewear.

(image via Overwatch League)

Maddy: By contrast, here’s Malik wearing a more formal outfit and rocking it. I’m pretty sure he brought his own clothes, because I can’t figure out why else they fit him so well.

Gita: I really like that first sweater on Malik... I can’t decide which of these I like better. I think it comes down to that tone issue you keep mentioning. If OWL is meant to be a casual event, then the first look is perfect. If it’s more like tsports, then the second. It’s confusing to jump back and forth like this.

Maddy: I agree, that casual jacket that Malik has on in the first photo looks great. Also, I think his signature bracelet and watch help tie together both the casual and formal outfits that he ends up wearing. I don’t think any of these guys actually get to choose what they wear, hence the fit problems and flip-flopping between casual and formal looks, but I do think they get to choose their accessories. That would explain why Monte gets to wear his own suspenders.

The final Malik look that I saved is this one, which is the most casual of all, but again, I enjoy it. Who is styling this man? Why are they finding clothes that fit him, and no one else?

Gita: And of all these guys, Malik looks the least like he’s playing dress up here. A lesson to learn from this: accessories can really change an outfit!

Maddy: So true. I’m now noticing that he’s actually got multiple bracelets. Each of them a delight.

Gita: I think it also helps that across all looks, Malik keeps it pretty simple. He’s wearing one deep primary color, and then a lot of neutrals. It’s great for broadcast because the patterns aren’t distracting, but the simplicity goes a long way to make him look stylish and put together.

Maddy: See, this is why I asked you to do this. I did not even notice that!

Gita: When you’re having fit problems, neutrals help! Might be why it seems like things fit him better, even if he has a similar body type to the other presenters.

I think Monte’s big issue is that the suspenders have the opposite effect of Malik’s bracelets. Instead of tying together his personal style, they distract from every other element he’s wearing.

Maddy: Let’s close this out by talking about the one woman on the talent desk: Soe Gschwind-Penski. Thanks to the unnecessary prison that is gendered fashion, the OWL stylists have let Soe get her pick of incredible looks, while the men get left to waffle between slouchy sweaters and too-big button-ups. I think my only complaint about Soe’s looks is the same one that I had about everyone else’s, which is the jarring valley between “casual” and “formal” on OWL.

Sometimes, she looks ludicrously overdressed in comparison to everybody else. For example, I loved this outfit on her, but... when you’re standing next to guys in loungewear? Odd.

(image via Instagram)

Gita: I am in LOVE with this outfit, but it did look very out of place. I mean, I want it. Look at how great her tattoo sleeve looks.

Maddy: I feel like the solution to that is: step up the men’s fashion. Leave Soe looking amazing!

Gita: Haha! I just noticed the asymmetrical straps on her top and... just wow. Who designed this?

For my part, I’m leaning more towards the casual looks for the guys, which does unfortunately mean Soe would have to step it down a notch.

Maddy: Here’s one of the most “casual” Soe looks that I stumbled across today. She’s got on jeans and a T-shirt here, but it’s another asymmetrical finish on the bottom of the shirt, which seems to be a favorite for styling her — perhaps to match her asymmetrical haircut. I’m not sure about the jacket, though. I mean, I like the jacket, but with the outfit as a whole? I don’t know. Again, we’ve got that uncertainty here with how formal we want the hosts to look.

(image via Overwatch League)

Gita: The jacket is nice, but it does seem tossed on at the last minute. I like the idea of a cropped jacket with this look, but I think it’s the color that’s bothering me. I also think it could be cropped even more to break her body up a little bit.

Yeah... I think the blue of her jacket is too similar to the blue of her jeans. She obviously looks great in colors, so they had a lot of options.

Maddy: These last two Soe outfits, I think, are great examples of toeing the line between formal and casual—and also seem like a level that the male hosts could get to, although I’m not sure how that would end up looking for them.

In look number one, Soe manages to mix navy and black and have me not hate it:

(image via Instagram)

Gita: Again! The accessories make this look! I love the shoes and the belt here.

Maddy: This is also an example of how a button-up can be an exciting article of clothing if it has some other details that make it pop. The sleeves on this shirt are wonderful.

Gita: I was about to say—between the fabric and the sleeve detail, this button up is still professional but doesn’t look stodgy.

Maddy: Last one: another fun shirt on Soe. I wish we could see the guys in more fun patterns. (I understand they are not ready for belly shirts.)

(image via Instagram)

Gita: Whoever is picking out Soe’s shoes, I salute you.

Maddy: It’s also a utilitarian choice, given her diminutive height and how many audience interviews she has to do. She ends up looking stylish and not having to hold up her microphone as high when she’s doing interviews.

Gita: All of Soe’s looks have been good examples of Just Enough. It’s Just Enough pattern, Just Enough accessorizing, and Just Enough professionalism. This fits my mental image of what I imagine esports presenters look like. Like my friends who play games, just with a slightly higher budget for clothes than me.

Maddy: I’m looking at the little photo in the top right of her Instagram montage there, of Soe at the desk with the dudes, and their sad baggy button-ups. Please, OWL stylists. Please do something about this.

Gita: It is in general an issue for men’s fashion that the clothing is more conservative. But if you really embrace looks like Malik’s casual jacket or Goldenboy’s giant check blazer, you can defeat the ill-fitting button up, I promise.

Maddy: I have no idea what esports broadcasts “should” look like. Should they be formal, casual, what? There is no right or wrong answer to that question. I think it would help if OWL made a decision and stuck with it, but it’s also been fun to see them play around in the gulf between T-shirts and ties. Even when I see outfits I don’t like, I enjoy seeing anything that isn’t yet another loose button-up.

I feel like Soe’s looks have steadily improved, and now Malik is on the desk setting a high bar for the rest of his colleagues. Sounds like our advice to the male hosts is to find some fun accessories that could work with what the stylists already have on hand. And for the stylists... please get these men some shirts that fit them? Even if it’s a bathrobe.

Source

https://compete.kotaku.com/the-overwatch-league-hosts-clearly-need-our-fashion-adv-1823206301

[argocitycosplay]

I’ll say this for Great Lakes Comic Con, I never fail to have a good time there – it’s always been a good show all the way back to that first year that Maddie and I discovered it when we were looking for an alternative to Wizard World Cleveland. I skipped this one last year mostly because there were no guests that I was interested in and as such, it fell prey to the streamlining of my schedule. This time around however, not only were they bringing in the actors from the old Shazam series, but they were also bringing in one of my bucket list writers – Jim Starlin. His run on Batman is transformative, and the combination of him, Mike DeCarlo and Jim Aparo are my definitive creative team for that book.

Nevertheless, I woke up that morning with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. It was an early departure, primarily because Starlin had capped his signing line to 25 people per hour, due to a hand injury. I know from experience that means you better get over to that table and grab a line ticket as soon as the show opens or you may not get to meet the guest – I’ve been burned on Bruce Campbell this way and almost lost my opportunity to get George Perez to sign my stuff. On the other hand, I would’ve preferred to have shown up around Noon and wasn’t sure if I’d have enough to d all day. Still, I have faith in Great Lakes and so I drug myself out of bed and made the long, arduous journey to Deee-troit!

I was pleased to discover that the line wasn’t as long as it had been on my previous trip, and I managed to make it over to Jim’s table just after 10:30. I was able to secure a place in line between 2 o’clock and 3 o’clock – that was going to make things difficult with the costume, I’d probably have to get in and out of it a couple of times but at least I was going to get my books signed! Ticket secured, I made my way over to the Shazam booth where the guys were friendly and happy to see me. Bringing in superheroes from these old 70s shows reminds me a lot of Akron Comicon’s old philosophy and I’ve always enjoyed the selection that Great Lakes brings in. Across the sprawling, massive dealers room floor I found some fun blind boxes of Ghostbuster stuff as well as one dealer unloading a ton of Walking Dead swag for a buck apiece. I grabbed Lucille pens for Amy and Lydia, as well as a pack of Pokémon cards for Maddie. At the door, the freebie station was set up and people were handing out promotional items for the Harley Quinn movie – tiny hammer and bat keychains as well as posters and enamel pins. I’m not proud. I loaded up. Lydia would be delighted with the tiny Harley hammer that I brought her home. Right near the entrance I spied a vendor selling Spider-man Essentials volumes for two dollars apiece and picked up two of the huge trades and headed back to the car. It was time for a swag dump and a change of outfit.

Fortunately for me, Michigan was having a mild winter so it wasn’t too terrible as I lugged the Skeksis costume in, wearing only the sweatpants and shirt that went underneath it. I geared up and took a look at the clock – I’d have to get back into civvies in two hours, but that would allow me plenty of time to make a couple of rounds through the floor.

In the week between Zip Con and Great Lakes, I had completely reworked the left arm so that it now held a staff. The hand, staff, and arm were all one piece, repainted and sculpted out of Great Stuff and PVC but this would be my first time walking around with it. I’d also drilled a hole in the neck connector so that I could drop a nail through the joint, securing the head to keep it from falling off again. There in the front hall, I had people coming up to me for photos before I had even completely suited up. After my experience at Zip Con and with the addition of the staff I was feeling much better about this costume and was happy to see how well received it was at the show. One young man in his twenties came up to me and told me he recognized it – not from the new Netflix series, but because his parents used to play the movie for him all the time on VHS! Another person confided in me that The Dark Crystal was one of the few films that genuinely scared him as a kid and gave him nightmares. I smiled and told him I was glad to have contributed to his psychosis.

As I made my way to the back of the convention floor, the people over at Guy Gilchrist’s table spotted me. Gilchrist is a Henson alumni, and bills himself as Jim Henson’s cartoonist. His assistant jabbed at his arm, drawing his attention up and away from the piece he was working on. His eyes widened in amazement and he exhaled deeply in wonder. He invited me over to get photos and showed me a photo of him with Jim Henson “This was taken right around the time he was creating you!”. It meant a lot to hear how impressed he was with the costume, he insisted on signing a Dark Crystal print for me and told me to come pick it up once I was out of costume.

I checked the time, Tom DeFalco‘s panel was about to start and I figured I’d be able to make it through about half of it at least before I have to shuffle out of the suit. Some of the con staff were nice enough to open the door to the panel room for me and I slipped into the back corner. DeFalco was just beginning his talk and had been handing out notes. He grabbed the moderator and handed a stack f papers to him and then pointed to the back.

“…and let’s get one of these over to the… Creature… In the back.”

I enjoyed DeFalco’s talk about his approach to creating comics. This is another one of those things that great Lakes does really well, and I remember having a similar reaction when they brought Jim Shooter in for a talk much like this. I was disappointed when I had to slip out, but time is ticking away and I wanted to be in normal clothes to meet Jim Starlin.

I carried my bundle out to the car and decided it would be too much trouble to get the lizard feet off (they are the hardest part of the costume, and it always takes me forever to wriggle out of them. I usually don’t take them off until I get home actually) and decided to just put my jeans back on over top of them. It had warmed up enough that I left my leather jacket in the car and just wore my sweater, topping it off with a hat to cover my hair, mussed from the costume.

Starlin himself was warm and congenial.

“Batman was always my hero,” he told me. “ I mean back then, it was either superman Batman or wonder woman – and then maybe a little bit later the fly or the Jaguar, but it was really mostly Superman Batman and Wonder Woman”

He looked at my copy of Death in the Family as he was signing it.

“It was a shame, after we killed off Robin, somebody in merchandising realized it was a problem, and all of a sudden I was kind of persona non grata at DC. Work just dried up. Fortunately, there were some openings over at Marvel and I ended up working on a little thing call the Infinity Gauntlet – so I can’t complain too much!”

Before I got back into the costume, where I would stay for the remainder of the show, I managed to swing through and do a bit more shopping. No quarter bins, but plenty of 50 Cent bins and I managed to score some Punisher and Green Hornet. I was shocked when I discovered a bunch of Hulk and Star Trek issues in one those 50 Cent bins, all signed by writer Peter David. David is one of my favorite writers and I actually go out of my way to meet him at Hall of Fame Comicon a couple of years ago. I can’t for the life of me understand why these are in the discount boxes, but I wasn’t complaining. I grabbed as many as I could find and came home with a stack of new stuff to read.

I spent the last two hours of the show back in the Skeksis outfit. I hadn’t realized how much muscle it would take to carry around the staff. It’s not that it was heavy, just that used muscles in my forearm that I’m not used to flexing all the time! About an hour before the costume contest, I saw a familiar costume style walk in, a cosplayer I’d seen around Michigan a few times – he’d spent most of the day in a diffrent costume, but now was in his new hydra suit which managed to place during the costume contest. Backstage and waiting for the contest to proceed, I had fun fooling around with some of the other contestants – hypnotizing one of them with my staff and joking with some of the others. This time with the other cosplayers is consistently my favorite part about doing costume contests – it’s not about whether you win or lose, it’s about who you get to know!

As the show drew to a close, I slunk out quickly and quietly- exhausted and ready to hit the nearest McDonald’s for some hydration on the way home. Still, despite my fatigue, I had fun and can’t wait to come back.

Great Lakes Comic Con 2020 I’ll say this for Great Lakes Comic Con, I never fail to have a good time there – it’s always been a good show all the way back to…

[melissalurquette-blog]

Chapter One Excerpt from Book Two “A Captivating Captive”

Just a little taste from Book Two of the Davenport Trilogy: A Captivating Captive, which tells the story of Amelia, the youngest Davenport sibling. She falls in love (or is it infatuation?) at a very young age, but gets her heart broken. That experience sets her on a life-changing journey!

_____________________________________________________________________

Sonoma, California - Summer 1880

AMELIA DAVENPORT SURREPTITIOUSLY followed her brother, Darian, as he ambled between the rows of grapevines. She knew he would be meeting his friend, Jaydon Saunders, whose house bordered the Davenport Vineyard to the North. She crept stealthily, ducking behind trees and bushes along the fringes to remain undetected. The vines were thick with bright green leaves, and the canopies were already heavy with reddening fruit. The foliage provided ample cover for her covert escapade.

When Darian reached the road that divided the two properties, Amelia crouched low and peered through a large bush to catch a closer look.

At seventeen, Jaydon already had the makings of an impressive man. His medium build was lean and firm. He suited his sandy, blond hair that was always a little unkempt, and his dazzling smile melted Amelia’s young heart. He had a magnetic boyish charm that drew people to him. She didn’t think there was a boy alive who could be more fascinating.

Jaydon was leaning against the twisted base of a towering, blue oak tree, tossing a baseball into his weathered glove. When he spotted Darian, he hurled the ball towards his friend.

Catching the ball easily, Darian greeted his friend. “Good to see you, Jaydon!”

“Nice catch, my friend.” Jaydon heard a rustling sound nearby, and spotted a quick movement behind Darian. He indicated towards the bushes. “I believe you have a shadow.”

Darian turned and saw a pair of bright, hazel eyes through the branches. “Amelia!”

Wearing a powder blue, cotton calico dress, it was difficult to go unnoticed. She stood out like a rose against a field of dandelions. Resigned to her sudden discovery, Amelia jumped from her hiding spot like a jack-in-the-box, delighted to move closer to Jaydon. “Good morning, Jaydon!” She chirped sweetly.

He smiled. “Hello, Amelia.” He tousled her hair affectionately, dishevelling her sable locks.

Darian scowled at his younger sister. “I have told you before, Amelia, that you are not to follow me. Return to the house at once!”

Amelia’s bottom lip began to quiver. “Please let me stay. I promise I will behave. You can throw the ball back and forth, and I will observe ever so quietly.”

Not wanting to upset her further, Darian’s tone softened. “Mother said you were to practice your music lessons today. I will not be held responsible for keeping you from your obligations.”

“Perhaps I can delay my lessons until later,” she pleaded.

“No, Amelia. Not this time.”

Tears welled in Amelia’s eyes, which tugged at Jaydon’s heart. “I will walk you back to the house, little dove. How does that sound?”

Darian rolled his eyes, while Amelia beamed brightly. “That would be most thoughtful, Jaydon!”

As the three strolled back to the house, Amelia dreamed about the day that she and Jaydon would be married and deeply in love. She tingled each time he called her little dove, a pet name he had given her years before. She imagined an idyllic future with Jaydon, in which they lived in a grand house near the Davenport Estate like in a fairy tale story book. Her fantasy even included three children whose faces each brandished Jaydon’s enchanting smile.

Lost in her blissful reverie, Amelia impulsively reached out to hold Jaydon’s hand. He looked over at Darian, not sure if his friend would approve, but he simply shrugged nonchalantly and shook his head. Jaydon took that as consent, and enclosed Amelia’s delicate hand in his own.

At his warm touch, Amelia’s heart skipped a beat. Excitement coursed through her pre-adolescent body, and she shivered. She was in heaven.

Jaydon felt her tremble. “Are you chilled?”

Looking up into liquid grey eyes, Amelia shook her head. “Not at all … everything is simply perfect.”

Jaydon and Amelia exchanged casual conversation along the way, as Darian shuffled a few paces behind. Occasionally he would roll his eyes each time his two companions would share a sudden exchange of laughter. Jaydon had let loose a number of chuckles when Amelia recited the story about a bird that had come in to the house through the chimney. Her mother had nearly fainted as the bird repeatedly flew across the room over her head. Amelia had never seen her mother in such a flutter as she attempted to chase the bird out the window.

Just as she was finishing her story, the trio arrived at their destination, much to Darian’s satisfaction.

An impressive sight, the Davenport house stood proudly at one end of the vast property.  Situated atop a shallow rise that overlooked the uniformed rows of grapevines, the pristine white of the two-story estate, with the characteristic corner turrets contrasted boldly against the cerulean sky.

As they rolled into the entrance hall, their father, Michael Davenport, was on his way out the door. “Hello, Jaydon!” He reached out to shake Jaydon’s hand. “Nice to see you, Mr. Davenport.” Jaydon awkwardly released Amelia’s hand to return his handshake.

“Darian, I thought you and Jaydon had plans to do some work at the Saunders’ place today?”

“That was my intention, until little sister decided to secretly tag along. Jaydon and I are here only to return Amelia safely back to the house. Now that she is home, we will be leaving.”

“You could stay here and have lunch,” Amelia proposed hopefully.

Michael lightly squeezed his daughter’s shoulder. “Jaydon and your brother have their own plans. You, my dear girl, need to concentrate on your music lessons today.”

Amelia looked dejected. “Yes, father.”

Jaydon stepped closer and chucked her under the chin. “It was nice to see you today, little dove. I will visit again soon.”

She smiled lifelessly and looked up into Jaydon’s dazzling eyes. “I will look forward to your next visit, Jaydon. Thank you for being such charming company this morning.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Moments later, Amelia was standing alone, and replaying each glorious moment that she and Jaydon had shared that morning. She grinned as she recollected the heat of Jaydon’s hand as it held her own, his engaging smile, and his animated laugh as he listened intently to her story about the bird and her mother. She smiled to herself, pleased that Jaydon had found her story amusing.

She was so caught up in her own thoughts, she didn’t hear her other brother, Slade, approach from behind.

“Is something amiss?”

Amelia turned with a start. “Slade! You startled me!”

“What mischief are in those deep thoughts of yours, sister?” Slade teased.

She giggled and blushed at how accurately he had guessed her thoughts. “I am not mischievous,” she corrected. “I wish I could be a little mischievous. It is not easy with two older brothers around. Perhaps one day I will succeed in my attempts, however.”

It was Slade’s turn to laugh. “I will try not to speculate on the meaning of those words, Amy. I think mischief is overrated, at any rate. Truth be told, I would rest easier if you remained thirteen forever!”

“That’s a horrible thought! I wish I was old enough to be married, but I doubt father would approve until I am at least eighteen. How am I to survive five more years of waiting?”

“You should not think such things at your age. There will be plenty of time to concentrate on marriage when you are older. Enjoy this time, when life is carefree and simple. One day you will wish you had heeded my advice, dear sister.”

Amelia sighed heavily. “You just do not understand.”

Slade gave her a half-grin. “Unfortunately, I believe I understand more than you know. I have ten years more experience on this earth, remember?”

“How could I ever forget? You and Darian never cease to remind me that I am young and inexperienced. I am not sure if I am lucky or cursed,” she quipped.

“Perhaps you will appreciate having two older brothers one day,” he offered, “but I can see how you may not feel that way at present. Our protective instincts may not always be welcome, but we act only out of extreme love. I would have a hard time even seeing you married at eighteen. If it were up to me, I would lock you up so no man could take you away from me,” he teased. “I only want to see the best for you, Amelia.”

“I love you, too, Slade … and Darian, although some days he is not easy to love,” she grinned.

“Now off to your lessons. I will see you later.” Slade sauntered out the front door.

Amelia headed into the music room and sat down at the piano. She pondered her conversation with Slade. If he knew the love she felt for Jaydon, she was certain he would be more inclined to understand her wish to marry as early as possible. She worshipped her two older brothers, Darian and Slade. To her, they were larger than life. Even when they were teasing her or admonishing her, their protective instincts towards her made her love and admire them in every way. Slade was devilishly handsome, and had a dangerous edge about him; although, to Amelia, he was a big pussy cat. Darian, who was three years her senior, had some similar qualities to Slade, but was less volatile and more thoughtful. With his sculpted good looks, girls always looked at him with adoration. Admittedly, she had wonderful siblings and parents who cherished her. She was confident that once she confessed her love to Jaydon, and they were happily married, her life would be near perfection.

Sonoma, California - Christmas 1886 The Davenport house was filled with the fragrance of freshly decorated evergreen swags that hung throughout the main floor. Amelia revelled in the aroma that evoked images of Christmases past. She was almost giddy with anticipation of the evening’s festivities. It was the sixth annual Davenport Christmas Social. Locals from neighboring vineyards, Davenport workers, friends, and relatives would all be in attendance. The event was initially started by her late father as a way to showcase new wines, and show appreciation to the workers. Her mother, Francine, had continued the event after her father’s passing.

Each room Amelia passed through boasted an assortment of seasonal flair: nuts, bead garlands, candies, and even a few home-made Christmas trinkets. An abundance of candles were lit, offering a warm glow throughout the house. Greeting cards from friends and relatives stood proudly on the stone mantle. Amelia picked up one particular card that brought butterflies to her stomach. She had read it dozens of times, and each time the words brought the same level of exhilaration:

Little Dove, Wishing you infinite happiness during this wonderful season. I look forward to once again celebrating the festivities with you and your family on Christmas Eve. It is a tradition I cherish more with each passing year. Warmly, Jaydon

Amelia clutched the card tightly to her chest. This year’s Christmas event would be the most memorable of all. Tonight would be the night, at long last. After many years of waiting and many misgivings, she was going to profess her love to Jaydon Saunders. She had hoped for many months that she would be spared this nerve-wracking effort, thinking he would proclaim his love first. However, after extensive waiting, and dozens of opportunities, no confession of love emerged. Amelia could only conclude that Jaydon must either be apprehensive, or waiting for the perfect moment. Regardless, Amelia had waited too many years, so she would have to take control and do what needed to be done to secure their destiny together. She was certain that he loved her. She had done everything to make him notice her — flirt, giggle, compliment him, sit near him, and repeatedly invite him to spend time with her. She could not think of anything more she could do to let him know her feelings—other than to tell him directly.

She knew women generally did not do such things, as convention dictated that men should make their intentions clear, not the other way around. However, she had turned nineteen a couple of months back, and had always imagined she and Jaydon would be wed by now.

Francine joined Amelia in the front parlor where a well-adorned evergreen tree loomed large in the front window. She poured herself a small glass of brandy, and interrupted her daughter’s musings. “These gatherings are never quite the same without your father. It is both a happy and sad time.”

At the recollection of her father, Amelia instinctively fingered the locket around her neck. It was the last gift she had ever received from him before he was killed five years ago. “You are quite right, mother,” Amelia agreed. “I miss him terribly, but most deeply on special occasions such as this.”

Francine hugged her daughter. “It is wonderful that we now have Shiara and the rest of the Montgomery family to join us during these special occasions. And in a few short months, I will have my first grandchild,” a tender smile appeared on her face. “I only wish your father were still here to experience these wonderful moments.”

As if on cue, Shiara and Slade entered the front parlor.

“You do not need to manhandle me. I am quite capable of walking without your assistance!” Shiara scolded her husband, attempting to shake off his hold on her arm.

Slade scowled down at his wife. “While you are carrying my child, I will continue to see that you remain unharmed. If that requires you to accept my assistance on occasion, then so be it.”

“I am carrying our child,” she corrected. “If you only behaved this way on occasion, then I would accept it willingly. You are lucky that I love you, because you are the most insufferable man I’ve ever met!”

Slade chuckled and planted a light kiss on the top of Shiara’s head. “I am well-matched on that score, dear wife.”

“When will the two of you stop antagonizing one another?” Francine jested, knowing full well that her son and daughter-in-law were immensely in love.

Shiara laughed heartily. “Until your son learns to be less domineering, I am afraid there is not much hope of that.”

“If I was not domineering, we would not be happily married, and you would not be carrying my child.” Slade goaded.

Shiara shook her head, refusing to be baited further by emphasizing the word ‘my’.

Amelia laughed at the interaction between Shiara and Slade. She had witnessed hundreds of such exchanges over the past year, and envied the love that the couple shared. At first, she was averse to her new sister-in-law, believing that Shiara held no affection for her brother. To Amelia, Slade deserved only the best, particularly after he suffered so deeply after their father was killed by a thief. Being the eldest sibling, Slade felt he should have been there to protect their father. He had struggled to forgive himself, and spent nearly five years as a bounty hunter, while Darian took control of running the vineyard. Had Slade not fallen in love with Shiara, and married her, Amelia believed Slade might still be risking his life capturing outlaws.

Once Amelia recognized the deep love the Slade and Shiara shared, it was not difficult for her to accept Shiara. In time, they had finally become friends, particularly since they were so close in age. It was refreshing to have a friend to share her thoughts with. A few months earlier, she had confided in Shiara that she was deeply in love with Jaydon. Shiara was the only person who knew that Amelia intended to confess her love to Jaydon during the celebration later that evening.

Shiara squirmed her way out of Slade’s clutches to stand next to Amelia. The two women were exquisitely dressed, but Amelia had taken extra pains to set herself apart. Her silk, emerald-colored dress had a trained skirt and a round-necked sleeveless corsage. The front was layered with cream-colored lace, and a scarf drapery of laurel green net enveloped the skirt. Almond tinted ribbon bows lined the front of the bodice.

“You look stunning,” Shiara complimented. “Are you certain that you want to go through with your plan tonight?”

“I am nervous, of course, but I am certain that Jaydon will be overjoyed to hear how much I care for him. I am determined to finally tell him. Nothing can persuade me to change my mind.” Amelia spoke with confidence, but inside her nerves were stretched thin.

Shiara smiled. “Jaydon could not ask for a more beautiful wife. I do wish you all the best. I know you have waited a very long time to have this conversation, but it is never easy. You are very brave, Amelia.”

“I do not feel brave. There are moments I feel so confident that we are destined to be together,” she revealed, “but then I wonder why Jaydon has not made an effort to court me.”

“There could be many reasons, Amelia. Perhaps he is worried about what Darian might think … or Slade, for that matter. In their eyes, you are still their baby sister, and Jaydon might be very aware of that.”

“Yes, my brothers will likely always see me that way, much to my dismay,” she grinned, “which is why I must be the one to approach Jaydon. If I continue to wait for him, I may be old and gray!”

Darian and Slade approached and interrupted their conversation.

“You both look lovely tonight,” Darian complimented. “Did I hear you say something about Jaydon?”

“Just that he mentioned he would be attending tonight.” Amelia lied.

Darian was concerned about his sister’s obsession with his best friend, but he hoped that she would get past it with time. “All the eligible gentlemen will be falling over themselves tonight when they see how beautiful you look.”

Slade furrowed his brow. “You certainly are turning into an attractive young woman. I may have to keep a close eye on you, Amy. If the eligible gentlemen know what’s good for them, they will keep a safe distance!”

Shiara swatted his arm. “Oh, behave! You will not be intimidating all the young men tonight. Let Amelia enjoy herself!” She winked at Amelia to show her support.

“Thank you, Shiara. Despite my two over-protective brothers, I intend to enjoy every minute.”

Darian raised one eyebrow. “I hope you do enjoy yourself, but just not too much, sister.”

Guests began arriving, and with each new visitor, Amelia became more anxious. She tried to concentrate on the conversation with Shiara and Hannah, Shiara's half-sister, but her eyes perpetually strayed to the door each time another guest arrived in anticipation of Jaydon's arrival. Finally, she spotted him in the entrance hall and her stomach filled with butterflies. He looked incredibly handsome in his dark, wool suit, and wavy, blond hair. His jacket was partially undone to reveal a high-buttoned, silk waistcoat and polished watch-chain. His familiar laugh, filling the room, drew her towards the entrance hall to welcome him.

As she approached, she noticed a shapely, brunette woman whose hand was securely placed on Jaydon’s arm. Amelia froze, as she tried to make sense of the scene before her. Jaydon had no sisters, so she supposed the woman could be a distant relative — a cousin or family friend perhaps. Either way, Amelia intended to find out just who this woman was to Jaydon.

She took a deep, steadying breath to stop herself from shaking. Moments later, feeling calmer, she continued forward and extended her hand. “Jaydon! So thrilled you could make it.”

Jaydon took her hand and planted a light kiss on the back of her knuckles. “So nice to see you, Amelia. May I introduce my companion, Elizabeth Baker? Elizabeth, this is Darian’s little sister, Amelia.”

Elizabeth smiled warmly. “Nice to meet you. Thank you for hosting us this evening. Your house is so lovely.”

Amelia began to nervously fidget with the locket around her neck. She was having difficulty forming a cohesive reply, as her brain struggled to understand. She did not want to like this woman, despite her kind words. A maelstrom of emotions gripped her, but she finally managed a stoic reply. “The pleasure is mine,” she uttered, struggling to regain her composure. “Uh, if you’ll excuse me, I must attend to something. I do hope you will enjoy yourselves.”

Not giving them another glance, Amelia hastily darted into the kitchen. Shiara witnessed the exchange, and followed her. She found Amelia sitting alone, visibly upset.

“Amelia? I saw you with Jaydon. Did something happen?”

“I am so confused! Why would he bring another woman here? Who is she to him, Shiara?” Amelia clamored.

“I do not know. I have never seen her before. Did he introduce her? Perhaps she is just a friend,” Shiara attempted to reassure her.

“He said she was his ‘companion’ … Elizabeth something,” she blurted. “She is not just a friend.” Amelia’s mind suddenly shifted. “I will not be deterred, Shiara. He is to be my future husband. Why did I wait so long? I must tell him how I feel!”

Shiara bit her lip as she thought about what to say that might help to alleviate Amelia’s torment. “You are too upset right now, Amelia. It might be better if you waited until a better time to talk to Jaydon. Perhaps when you feel more cool-headed?”

Amelia shook her head emphatically. “This may be my last chance, Shiara. I cannot allow that woman to steal him from me!”

“I know you are determined, Amelia, but it is important that your emotions are under control. It is not my place to stand in your way, but I do wish you would reconsider. Impulsive decisions are usually not the best ones … I can personally attest to that.”

Amelia managed a slight smirk, knowing about some of the impulsive decisions she was referring to. “Thank you for your concern, Shiara, but I am not being impulsive. I know what must be done and refuse to delay any longer. I will speak with Jaydon tonight, as planned.” Amelia took another fortifying breath to calm her nerves. “I think I will step outside on the patio for a few moments to steady myself before seeking him out.”

Shiara sighed in resignation, realizing there would be no changing her sister-in-law’s mind. “Yes, that is a splendid idea. Would you like some company?” Amelia shook her head. “No, I need to be alone. You should return to the festivities and our guests.”

Shiara gave her sister-in-law a compassionate embrace before exiting the kitchen. She contemplated telling Slade about Amelia’s intentions, but involving her husband could oftentimes escalate a tense situation, rather than calm it down—particularly when his protective instincts clouded his judgment.

Amelia was left alone with her turbulent thoughts. Is there a chance that Jaydon does not love me? How can he disregard how deeply I care for him? Surely he must know that we are meant to be together!

Amelia headed towards the back door that led out into the gardens. The door was left slightly open, and she could hear her brother, Darian, in conversation with Jaydon.

“I am surprised you decided to bring Elizabeth here with you tonight.”

“How could I not? You know I plan to marry her … if she will have me, of course,” Jaydon confided.

“I am certain my sister would not be too happy to hear that revelation.”

“I would never intentionally cause Amelia unhappiness. You know that, Darian,” he explained, “but I am afraid I may have upset her already. I introduced her to Elizabeth upon our arrival, and within moments she disappeared. I had hoped to have a chance to speak with her about my intentions—”

“Or lack of intentions, you mean,” Darian corrected.

“I have never had intentions to marry her. Amelia is like a sister to me. Of course I care for her deeply, but I do not desire her in that way.”

“I do not envy you, my friend. If you were any other man, I would not be pleased to hear that you plan to hurt my sister, and Slade, well… he is even more protective than I am. Unfortunately, she convinced herself long ago that she was in love with you, so that is no fault of yours,” Darian lamented. “I regret not setting her straight before her infatuation reached this point.”

“As do I. For years, I believed it was just an innocent crush. It was only this past year that I came to realize the depth and sincerity of her feelings,” Jaydon admitted.

Amelia collapsed to the floor. She felt as if the air was being sucked out of her lungs. Jaydon intended to marry that woman? Her head was spinning. Infatuation? She struggled to catch her breath. A stream of tears suddenly flowed relentlessly down her cheeks. Her small body was wracked with sobs.

Slade was passing nearby and heard her cries. He rushed towards her listless body, crumpled on the floor. “Amelia? Are you hurt?” When no answer came, he rushed to pick her up and carried her up the stairs to her bedchamber. He laid her gently on her bed, as he examined her for injury. “What has happened to you? Have you injured yourself? Did someone hurt you?”

Amelia shook her head and buried her face in her pillow, as she continued to weep uncontrollably.

Slade rubbed her back to comfort her. “Who did this to you?”

Amelia refused to answer, feeling both devastated and embarrassed.

“Stay here. I will fetch you something to drink to calm you. Whatever is troubling you, it cannot be as bad as all that.” He gently closed the door behind him, as he went in search of a glass of warm milk for Amelia, and something more potent for himself. Whatever was causing his sister such anguish, his wife would certainly have some insight.

Amelia was still reeling from the knowledge that Jaydon did not love her. Even more distressing was his intention to marry someone else. Why had she not known how he felt? How could he not feel the same way for her? She felt as if her heart had been ripped out of her chest. Her entire life was falling apart, and she was powerless to do anything about it. All hope for a happy future had disintegrated in the span of a few short minutes.

She felt foolish. Did everyone know how she felt about Jaydon, and were they all laughing at her for being so naive? Even her own brother, Darian, was aware of the situation, and he chose to disregard her feelings entirely. She would not forgive Darian for his betrayal, and she would never be able to face Jaydon Saunders again.

Her tears seemed endless, so it would be impossible to return to the gathering and converse with guests after her dreams had just been decimated. She was certain that Slade would make excuses for her absence.

Shiara gently knocked on the door. “Amelia? May I come in?” When no answer came, Shiara opened the door and sat beside the bed. She placed a glass of warm milk on the bedside table. “I brought you something to calm you. Slade said you were upset, so am I to assume your conversation with Jaydon did not go well?”

Amelia finally sat up and wiped the tears from her eyes. “There was no conversation. Jaydon is planning to marry that Elizabeth woman. He doesn’t love me.” Saying the words aloud caused her eyes to well up again.

“How do you know this?” Shiara handed Amelia a kerchief.

Amelia wiped her eyes with the soft cloth. “I-I overheard Jaydon and Darian talking in the garden. Darian said I had an infatuation, and Jaydon said he thinks of me like his sister. I feel so humiliated.”

Shiara placed Amelia’s hand in her own. “I am so sorry, Amelia. I know how much you care for him. How could you have known how he felt? Do not agonize over it.”

“How could Darian do this to me? Why didn’t he tell me?”

“I am sure he never expected you would get hurt. He cares for you deeply. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Amelia shook her head. “I just want to be alone.”

Shiara stood and walked to the door. “I know this may not be what you want to hear, but you will love again, Amelia.” With that prediction, Shiara went back to the festivities.

Amelia could not imagine herself continuing to live her days as she had before. She must go some place far away. She could not bear to be so close to Jaydon, knowing that soon he would marry another woman. But where could she go? She thought about going back to Oregon with the Montgomery family, but felt that would be too much of an imposition. She had an aunt who lived in San Francisco. Perhaps she could go there for a while. Her Aunt Marion, her late father’s sister, had a small house near the San Francisco waterfront. Her Uncle Lonny had recently passed away, so her aunt lived alone. It was possible her Aunt Marion would relish the idea of Amelia’s company for a time. It was the best option she could think of in her current state.

Exhausted from her emotional unrest, Amelia eventually let sleep take her.

____________________________________________________

If you liked the story of so far, feel free to read A Beautiful Bounty: Book One of the Davenport Trilogy. It is the story of Shiara Montgomery and Slade Davenport. I think you’ll enjoy it! Available for FREE on Kindle Unlimited through the month of April 2017.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N3CRBZ1