#i tried to make him a bit more well groomed compared to my usual style with him

[the-owl-tree]

When im in ur box its always the same guy so pls b prepared

Goosefeather 4 doodles if ur still accepting, ty for chance

courtesy of @ comment-tube

[idontblushsrry]

Sesshomaru||NSFW Alphabet

A/N: That’s right, I wrote an NSFW alphabet for him as well. How could I not, he’s a hottie. Also somehow, I managed to keep this w a gender neutral reader, so all my Sesshomaru fans may enjoy (unless u ship s*ssrin, then leave)

Word Count: 1911

Warnings: Obviously nsfw

A - Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

After sex, Sesshomaru returns to his initial composure almost immediately. Like he’ll pant for a few seconds, wipe his dick off and then immediately, boom, like nothing ever happened. Of course, you, are thoroughly wrecked, needing Sesshomaru’s help, help which he is more than happy to give.

B - Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part on himself has to be his arm/arms (depending). He loves his arms for a reason completely separate from you, he just enjoys the fact that he finally has two arms, like he thinks back to all the times he didn’t properly appreciate his left arm, and vows to never make that same mistake.

C - Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

As much as he loves cumming on your body, nothing compares to the feeling of cumming inside you. He loves to watch you slowly lose all coherency as he just fucks you full of his cum. If you let this man cum inside you, you will unleash a whole new beast, that you’re gonna have to be prepared to deal with. 

D - Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Sometimes, when Sesshomaru knows he’s going to be away from you for a long time, he tries to fuck you as much as possible. He knows that he’ll miss you and gets a little more lovey dovey, but above all, he’s trying to remember the feeling of you so he can better mimic it with his had.

E - Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Sesshomaru is extremely experienced, on account of both his rank and his power. Demons are attracted to power and rank and, being so noble, Sesshomaru has never had any trouble with finding a partner to warm his bed. He’s not versed in everything but he has a strong sense of intuition and a deep connection with his own desires.

F - Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

A bit cliché, but, his favorites are doggy style and mating press. Any position where he has the leverage to press you down and fuck into you also ranks pretty high on his list.

G - Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Sesshomaru is so serious in the moment. He gets so laser focused on pleasing you that he finds any distractions to be a bit...grating. That being said, you’re the exception, if he happens to make you laugh during sex, he’ll just roll his eyes affectionately before shutting you up with a kiss.

H - Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He’s about as well groomed as any man of his station at the time would be. He’s not exactly shaving down there but his hair is so fine that it isn’t unbearable. Also the carpet definitely matches the drapes, his hair is extremely light and it’s hard to see sometimes.

I - Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Sesshomaru is very intimate in subtle ways. He shows you hat he cares by doing little things to ensure your comfort. Whether it’s brushing sweat off your head, setting pillows under your hips, or retracting his nails when he holds you, Sesshomaru is the king of unspoken intimacy. He loves you and he’s going to show it in the most obvious way.

J - Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

As stated earlier, Sesshomaru really only jacks off out of necessity. He had no problem with getting someone to fuck, ad now that he has you, he doesn’t see the need to masturbate. The only time he’ll do so is if you’re gonna be away from him for a while and he’s really horny.

K - Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Sesshomaru has a breeding kink, sorry not sorry. Even if you can’t get pregnant, something in him just tells him to keep filling you with his cum until it spills out. At which point, he just repeats the process. He also has a thing for marking, whether it be by scent, hickies, or with his cum, he loves the reminder/proclamation that you’re his.

L - Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Sesshomaru’s not picky about location. He’s of the opinion that, as long as you’re comfy, he’s ok with it. He does enjoy having his fill of you in your shared bedroom, but yall aren’t really home often enough for him to be that particular about it.

M - Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

The only thing that turns Sesshomaru on is the sight/thought of you naked and waiting for him. 

N - NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sesshomaru does not care all that much for sharing, and in a similar vein, voyeurism. With voyeurism, he doesn’t mind fucking out in the open, as long as no one else is around. The second he gets whiff of anyone, he’s pulling out of you faster than you can even realize what’s going on. With sharing, just don’t ask. He won’t show it but, the thought of someone else even seeing you that vulnerable enrages him and sets off his baser instincts. If you suggest it, he’s going to be very hurt for some time.

O - Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Sesshomaru probably didn’t even know about oral until you went down on him for the first time. While he isn’t exactly the most experienced in it, he more than makes up for it with his sheer voracity. If you ask him to give you head, he’s getting on his knees, laying you back like, “say less”.

P - Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Sesshomaru can be both but he tends to lean on the more fast and rough side. Sure, your hips and legs hurt, but who can really complain when there’s a powerful demon pounding into you like a jackhammer.

Q - Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

When you first told Sesshomaru what a quickie entailed, he was intrigued. Admittedly, he didn’t like the concept at first, but the more he thought about it the more it grew on him. He likes the thought of you being so needy for him that you’d rather jump him as soon as possible than wait to get home.

R - Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

In terms of experimentation, Sesshomaru’s not all that open to it. He’ll try if you insist but he’s definitely not one to suggest any experimentation. As for risks in terms of location, as long as he’s far enough from others, he doesn’t really care where y’all fuck or how loud you are. 

S - Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He can go as long as you can. He does like to build your endurance more and more each time, but sex in general with him is a serious time commitment.  He’s more than willing to space it throughout the day if that would suit you better.

T - Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

No toys, Sesshomaru doesn’t see the point in them. It also goes back to his thing about sharing, while he won’t be as angry as he would be with another person there, the thought infuriates him. Just thinking about an object getting to feel you in the same way he does make him see red.

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Sesshomaru prefers not to tease, but he will if he feels the need to. He prefers to get straight to the point, letting you cum as many times as he sees fit to, honestly, prep you to take him in. But if he’s feeling particularly slighted, (whether by you or some demon he can’t quite murder) he’ll take it all out on you. While he won’t tease you in public, in private, he’ll work you up, get you right on the edge of cumming, and then pull it away. The more you whimper and whine, the more tempted he is to draw out your torture.

V - Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Sesshomaru is pretty quiet... usually. While he prides himself on his control, of which extends even to the bedroom, letting out a few grunts once he’s about to cum, his rut is a different story. Sesshomaru refuses to talk about or even acknowledge how unihinged he acts during his rut but honestly, the moment he gets a whiff of your arousal, he sounds like a wild animal. Every repressed emotion and sound comes bubbling back up to the surface and he just goes around growling and panting until he can stick his dick in you.

W - Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Sesshomaru tries his best to be gentle/hold back with you. It’s not obvious and you haven’t noticed because most of it happens in the heat of the moment when you’re distracted by...other things. But, he knows he tends to lose himself inside of you so in preparation, he’ll remove his hands from your body and let his claws rip into the surface under/behind you, whether it be a tree, bed, or just the floor. One of these times, his poison accidently activated and he shielded your body by leaning down and making out with you. That day, he discovered his affinity for kissing you while pounding into you.

X - X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Mans got a third leg, I just know. The baggy pants hide it pretty well but when you manage to pull it out, he’s easily 8 inches (10-12 when fully hard depending on circumstances), uncut, and really pretty. Like other parts of him, Sesshomaru’s dick is beautiful, a small patch of silver hair near his base. Speaking of, Sesshomaru does have a knot, if he cums inside of you, he tries to do so without getting it stuck just because of the fact that it’s kind of a hassle waiting it out. But if you let him knot you and the situation allows it, he might go a little feral whoops.

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Sesshomaru has a pretty high sex drive and before you, he could control it pretty well in all instances besides his rut. He still maintains his impeccable control but he finds himself ready to go a lot more often than he used to be. Like if you ask him, he’s immediately down regardless of what he’s doing. The only time that he gets supernaturally and uncontrollably horny is when he goes into rut. At which point...good luck getting his dick out of you.

Z - ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

While Sesshomaru doesn’t really get tired after sex in the same way you do, he does understand when you’re kind of tapped out for the night/day/moment and is more than content to watch you sleep. After a while though, the sounds of your heartbeat and the quiet sounds of your breathing will set him at ease and put him to sleep.

[kacychase]

“I do”

AeGi; yes, it’s exactly what you’re thinking lol

My  mirror  image  looks  so  different  from  the  usual.  My  hair  is  made  up  in  a  hairdo  that  is  more  elaborate  than  I  have  probably  seen  for  a  while  –  Rika  and  Maya  insisted  on  making  the  make-up  and  hairstyle  extravagant.

To  be  honest,  having  been  younger,  I  bet  it  would  have  felt  a  bit  different  from  today’s  standards.  Though,  today  is  a  bit  of  an  exception.

Nope.  That’s  an  understatement,  today  will  be  one  of  the  most  terrifying  days  of  my  life…  What  if  I  just  got  out  of  here  with  Nol,  and  we  would  just  sit  in  the  Wac’s  a  few  blocks  from  here?  That  would  have  been  awesome.

But  probably,  the  white,  beautiful  dress  I’m  wearing  would  get  too  dirty  for  it  to  be  ruined  by  the  street’s  mud.  Its  lace  for  the  long  sleeve  and  the  v-neck  cut  really  makes  my  rather  slender  figure  look  less  like  a  stick.  Taking  in  a  deep  breath,  I  realize  that  maybe,  this  wedding  won’t  be  a  disaster  –  after  all,  my  friends,  the  Parks,  Nana,  dad  and  Rika  have  all  helped  me  through  this,  and  I  bet  Dieter  and  Soushi  were  Nol’s  anchors,  too.

I  bet  he’s  just  as  nervous  as  I  am.

“Shin-Ae,  your  necklace  is  put  in  the  wrong  way,  do  you  want  me  to  turn  it  around?”  Ah,  that  was  what  made  me  look  in  the  mirror  in  the  first  place.  Keep  your  head  together,  Shin-Ae!

It’s  not  like  he’s  any  less  nervous  than  I  am.  Well,  maybe  I  did  most  of  the  organizing  of  the  wedding,  but  honestly,  he  probably  is  just  as  nervous  as  I  am  about  becoming  my  husband.

Yeah,  that  must  be  it.  I  am  about  to  become  his  wife,  huh?  That  means  Mrs  Lochlainn.  Yeah…  Thinking  about  it  now,  his  proposal  feels  like  yesterday.  When  Nol  proposed  to  me,  it  was  oddly  romantic,  and  he  looked  like  he  wanted  to  escape  all  throughout  the  date.  Kinda  rigid,  but  at  least  I  found  out  why  after  we  decided  to  go  to  a  chicken  joint  instead.

Oh  man…

Anyway,  I’m  going  to  marry  in  30  minutes,  and  my  heart  feels  like  running.

“Shin-Ae!  Do  you  want  to  talk  to  your  dad?  Or  Min-Hyuk?  You  look  dead,”  Maya  deadpans  with  a  single  glance  into  my  direction,  shortly  checking  her  make-up  before  looking  back  to  me.  Rika,  through  the  while,  just  peeks  through  the  door,  then  turns  back  to  the  two  of  us.  “Well,  your  dad  is  definitely  at  the  door,  Min-Hyuk  looks  like  he’s  talking  to  Dieter  and  Soushi  about  something,”  she  announces  at  our  direction,  having  Maya  exclaim:  “I  bet  it’s  a  good  idea  right  now!  We  will  check  if  everything  in  the  wedding  goes  according  to  plan,  okay?”

This  is  going  too  fast.  Feeling  my  hands  shiver  about  the  whole  thing  and  the  fact  that  the  wedding  event  has  started,  I  feel  like  my  mind  is  blanking.  For  some  reason,  I’m  a  bit  scared  of  messing  up,  becoming  tongue-tied  when  the  vows  start.  Not  keeping  up  the  vows.  Being  a  bad  wife.  Everything  about  this  is  kind  of  strange.  But  thinking  that  Nol  is  my  husband  from  today  on  makes  it  reasonable  again.

“Alright.  Thank  you  guys,  I  owe  you  one,  for  real,”  I  sigh  in  distress  and  smile  at  my  two  bridesmaids.  Although  we  were  off  to  a  rocky  start,  we  really  have  grown  close  over  time.  “Just  repay  us  when  Dieter  finally  marries  his  fiancée,”  Maya  nonchalantly  replies,  while  both  women  in  their  yellow  dresses  head  to  the  exit

But  even  that  doesn’t  compare  to  the  way  Nol  and  I  have  evolved  into  two  dorks.  Even  during  the  times  when  I  was  crazily  stressed  out,  he  somehow  manages  to  put  up  with  my  attitude.  How  does  he  even  do  that?

Either  way,  I  could  need  him  right  now.  At  least  I  will  see  him  at  the  altar  I  guess.  When  we  are  about  to  listen  to  the  priest,  vow  to  each  other,  kiss  and  be  husband  and  wife.

Ugh,  this  is  going  to  be  something  else  for  sure.  I  could  use  a  good  old  hug,  or  a  laugh,  or  some  chicken.

But  my  father  entering  the  room  is  what  makes  me  rethink  rushing  to  Wac’s  for  a  Wac  burger  as  he  closes  the  door  behind  him,  and  maybe  his  excited  face  reminding  me  of  the  occasion.

“There  you  are,  Shin-Ae.  I  was  already  wondering  if  they  had  abducted  you  or  something,”  dad  says  as  he  approaches  me,  then  takes  a  halt  to  take  in  the  way  I  look  –  a  beautiful  bride  about  to  be  bound  off  to  the  man  he  used  to  hate.

He  would  have  hated  any  man  that  would  come  into  my  life  anyway.

His  stunned  but  soft  and  moved  voice  hits  me  as  he  mutters:  “My  beautiful  daughter,  about  to  marry…”  Closing  the  distance,  he  carefully  watches  as  he  probably  debates  whether  he  should  hug  me  or  not.  “This  guy  still  doesn’t  deserve  you.  If  it  went  by  me,  he  would  have  been  hist-“  “Dad!,”  I  interrupt  him,  “Who  else  will  support  the  fried  chicken  industry  as  much  as  he  does?  We  need  to  keep  him  alive,”  I  argue  back,  a  smile  creeping  on  my  face  as  I  giggle  eerily.

Today  really  does  it,  huh.

“Well,  you  seem  very  happy  honey,  and  I  hope  that  you  two  can  continue  to  be  there  for  each  other.  That  guy  really  blooms  with  you  around.”  Whenever  I  hear  that,  my  heart  starts  melting.  I  know  that  Nol  and  I  appear  to  some  as  the  ‘OTP’  (not  looking  at  Maya  at  all),  but  I  always  feel  a  little  softer  whenever  I  see  Nol  being  happy,  smile  like  the  fool  he  is,  or  actually  just  hearing  someone  how  great  he  looks  in  general  whenever  he  speaks  of  us  and  the  engagement  stuff.

At  least  now  I  know  that  Nana  didn’t  entirely  force  him  into  proposing  to  me.  But  we  do  have  a  catholic  prayer  included  into  the  ceremony.

My  stomach  feels  oddly  bubbly  right  now,  and  I  wish  I  wasn’t  so  affected  before  I  would  even  see  my  redhead  idiot  fiancée.  “Dad?  I  don’t  know  what  to  do  right  now,”  I  admit  to  him,  feeling  myself  take  in  a  deep  breath,  suddenly  hyper  aware  to  the  way  air  fills  my  lungs.

“I  am  about  to  go  out  there  and  vow  to  him,  and  everything.  I  don’t  even  know  if  I  am  a  good  fiancée  or  not.  What  about  wife  then?”

  Silently  listening  to  me,  dad  does  not  really  say  anything  as  silence  spreads  itself  in  the  room,  and  I  slowly  concentrate  on  my  breathing  as  Nol  has  taught  me  once  when  I  was  close  to  panicking  because  of  the  nurse  job,  and  it  has  served  me  for  quite  an  amount  of  times.

“Shin-Ae,  this  guy  is  already  happy  to  have  you  the  way  you  are,  don’t  worry  about  that,”  he  just  says,  strokes  his  fingers  through  his  hair  to  look  at  my  hair  and  my  make-up.  “This  guy  looks  at  you  as  if  you  saved  his  life,  and  look  at  you.  Now  both  of  you  are  here.  I  think  that  should  already  make  the  case  that  he’s  happy  with  you  marrying  him,”  he  finally  answers,  “Now  come,  let  me  give  you  a  hug.”

Feeling  his  arms  hesitantly  embrace  me,  I  also  lay  my  arms  around  him  slowly  to  avoid  getting  anything  from  the  dress  caught  onto  his  elegant  suit.  “Thanks,  dad,”  I  just  mutter,  careful  not  to  stain  his  shoulder  with  make-up  either.  “No  problem,”  he  responds,  releasing  me  seconds  after.

“Now,  how  long  do  you  need  to  revise  on  the  speech?”  he  asks  as  he  goes  back  a  few  steps  and  looks  at  the  cards  I  have  prepared  to  reread  before  I  might  blank  out  on  them.  “I-I  think  I  got  it.  I  revised  it  at  home  quite  a  bit,”  I  respond  with  another  breath,  stealing  a  glance  at  the  tiny  little  flashcard  that  I  have  tried  to  write  so  much.  It  feels  like  too  little  now.

In  my  nervous  stupor,  I  swear  I  wish  I  could  change  the  speech  right  now  and  just  add  more.

“Honey,  you  will  do  great,”  I  hear  dad  say  and  I  nod  absentmindedly.

“It’s  really  just  Nol  I’m  talking  to.  He’ll  probably  goof  out  more  than  I  will,”  I  mutter  and  stifle  a  chuckle.  I’m  just  as  bad  as  him,  so  I  shouldn’t  laugh.  Technically.

“Alright,  because  I  think  it’s  time  already.”

  This  sentence  makes  me  feel  a  huge  stone  weigh  down  my  stomach,  but  my  dad’s  genuine  doesn’t  tell  me  otherwise.  “What?”  My  voice  sounds  like  it’s  choking  on  itself.  “B-but  the  people  don’t  sit  yet,  do  they?”

“Actually,  they  wait  for  you  now.”

“OMG  WHY  DIDN’T  YOU  TELL  ME!!”  My  nervousness  shouldn’t  be  this  terrible.  “Sorry  dad!”  I  immediately  add,  feeling  sorry  for  my  little  outbreak.  “Let’s  go!”

“Alright,  honey.  Here  you  go.”

  And  as  he  gives  me  his  arm,  I  intertwine  my  left  one  with  his  right.

When  the  both  of  us  go  down  the  hall  of  the  church,  everything  feels  so  incredibly  dreamlike.  All  the  past  work  in  the  months  before,  all  the  organization  that  went  into  today,  all  the  guest  lists  and  seat  orders  and  bills  and  themes  –  they  all  fade  into  nothingness  as  I  finally  see  my  redhead  look  at  me,  his  eyes  so  intense  and  so  glassy  that  my  heart  might  jump  any  time.  His  smile  is  so  genuine  and  so  full  of  happiness,  and  I  can  see  nervousness  ooze  from  him  as  much  as  from  me  as  we  slowly  approach  him,  dad  still  firmly  holding  my  arm.  If  he  hadn’t,  I  really  don’t  know  what  might  have  happened,  but  the  way  Nol  and  I  look  at  each  other  now…  It  makes  all  the  doubts  and  fears  go  away.

I’m  ready  for  a  long  life  with  this  goofy  bigfoot.

  The  steps  to  the  altar  have  made  me  worry,  but  now  that  I  can  finally  see  Nol  within  my  reach,  I  suddenly  feel  calm,  as  if  I  didn’t  need  to  look  for  my  husband  anymore.  But  as  my  father  releases  me  with  a  smile,  all  I  can  see  are  Nol’s  smile,  and  I  swear,  teary  green  eyes.

My  heart  is  wrenching  as  I  see  one  drop  from  his  right  eye,  and  my  own  eyes  water.  Is  my  smile  even  a  pretty  one  at  this  point?  I  don’t  care.

“Dear  beloved,  we  are  gathered  here  today…,”  the  priest  starts  to  say,  and  he  is  a  friendly  one.  His  way  of  speaking  about  us,  our  duties  for  each  other  as  husband  and  wife  from  a  Catholic  standpoint  somehow  is  really  encouraging  and  sweetly  put.  I  am  glad  that  we  got  him,  and  before  the  ceremony,  I  remember  him  wishing  us  the  best.

While  I  smile  and  nod,  I  can’t  help  but  catch  myself  stare  at  the  freckled  groom.  There  he  stands,  in  a  suit  that  makes  him  more  handsome  than  he  already  is,  styled  hair,  a  yellow  boutonnière  and  funnily,  a  last-minute  addition  of  the  pizza  cufflink  Min-Hyuk  has  bought  him.  I  think  he  has  mentioned  that  he  got  them  for  him  last  week.  Looking  at  all  the  groomsmen,  I  can  see  Dieter,  Min-Hyuk  and  Dieter  looking  at  us,  and  as  I  glance  at  them,  each  of  them  smiles  at  me  and/or  gives  me  a  thumbs  up.  Trying  to  suppress  a  chuckle,  I  look  back  at  my  groom,  my  heart  already  elated.  His  face  tells  me  so  much  to  the  point  that  I  can’t  breathe  for  a  second.  Another  tear  falls  down  his  eye  and  he  smilingly  wipes  it  away  with  his  hand  as  my  heart  aches  to  hug  and  kiss  him.  But  for  now,  holding  hands  should  work.

This  man…

This  man  makes  me  cry  at  my  wedding,  too.  “As  now,  the  groom  can  from  now  on  proceed  with  his  speech  to  the  bride.”  With  a  short  Thank  you  smile  to  the  priest,  Nol  now  locks  eyes  with  me  again,  so  much  more  intense.  For  a  while,  nothing  happens  as  we  just  stare  at  each  other,  until  he  breaks  and  laughs:  “Sorry,  I  didn’t  know  that  a  wedding  could  make  me  this  nervous  today.”

A  few  short  laughs  fill  the  room,  mine  included.  In  the  background,  I  can  see  Shin-Hye  film  the  whole  thing,  but  I  couldn’t  care  less  right  now  as  my  eyes  gravitate  back  to  his.

“Shin-Ae.  When  I  first  met  you,  it  was  when  you  splashed  orange  juice  at  me  in  a  burger  joint.  You  stood  up  for  your  friends  and  gave  us  a  piece  of  your  mind,  even  punched  my  school  uniform  clean.  Back  then,  I  had  no  clue  what  a  ride  I  was  in  for,  and  what  kind  of  person  you  were,”  I  can’t  help  but  chuckle  at  the  memory.  I  was  a  socially  awkward  person  just  trying  to  make  things  right  with  the  little  money  we  had.  When  I  met  you  the  second  time,  you  stood  up  for  your  beliefs.  ‘I  don’t  care  whether  you  are  the  son  of  the  prime  minister  or  a  random  cashier  at  a  food  mart,  you’re  a  human  first’,  you  said  to  me.”  As  he  mentions  said  thing,  I  feel  starstruck.  He  remembers?  How?  Even  I  barely  remember  what  I  said  to  him  years  ago  at  the  party.  His  genuine  but  also  proud  smirk  is  telling  me  that  my  reaction  must  be  obvious,  as  I  hear  his  speech  to  me.  “And  it  was  that  that  made  me  think  of  you.  After  we  became  friends,  I  have  seen  you  defend  your  loved  ones,  and  over  the  time  yourself  from  what  is  bad.  You  are  brave,  you  have  a  heart  too  big  for  your  own  good,  and  the  best  taste  in  chicken  wings  I  could  wish  in  a  wife.  Thank  you  for  believing  in  me  when  only  my  Nana  told  me  I’m  handsome.  I  love  you”

His  unwavering  gaze  at  mine  gives  me  goosebumps,  but  I  don’t  care  and  wish  I  could  just  kiss  him  already.  At  least  my  cheeks  hurt  from  all  the  smiling.

"I,  Nolan  Lochlainn,  take  you,  Shin-Ae,  to  be  my  wife.  I  promise  to  be  true  to  you  in  good  times  and  in  bad,  in  sickness  and  in  health"  Although  I  have  seen  him  tearing  up  and  nervously  laughing  just  now,  these  words  come  out  in  such  an  assuredness,  warming  my  heart.

God,  now  it  is  my  turn.

Luckily  having  taken  my  flashcards  with  me,  I  smile  at  him,  vision  blurry.

“Nol,  back  when  I  didn’t  have  it  too  easy,  to  me,  you  were  a  sly  person,  a  good-willing  guy  who  came  off  too  strong.  I  didn’t  understand  that  when  you  were  doing  these  things,  you  were  probably  the  most  genuine  person  I  could  have  ever  met.  And  I  am  glad  we  made  it  through  the  times.  You  have  proven  to  me  time  again  that  even  if  there  was  no  other  way  to  both  chase  your  dreams  and  be  there  for  your  loved  ones,  you  made  it  work.  Whenever  I  was  down,  or  had  moments  of  doubts,  you  were  there  to  light  up  my  day,  and  make  the  best  potato  dishes  I  had  the  pleasure  of  eating.  I  love  you,  and  can’t  wait  to  spend  my  life  even  more  with  you.”

I  wish  I  was  better  at  this.  My  voice  quivers  as  I  keep  eye  contact  with  Nol,  taking  a  deep  breath.  But  seeing  him  break  into  a  smile  and  glassy  eyes,  I  just  have  to  reciprocate.  “I,  Shin-Ae  Yoo,  take  you,  Nolan  Lochlainn,  to  be  my  husband.  I  promise  to  be  true  to  you  in  good  times  and  in  bad,  in  sickness  and  in  health.”

He  shortly  looks  at  the  floor,  then  back  to  me.

“Nolan  Lochlainn,”  I  hear  the  speaker  say,  “Do  you  take  Shin-Ae  to  be  your  beloved  and  wedded  wife?”

The  tall  groom  tightens  his  grip  around  my  hand,  closing  up  my  throat.  “I  do.”

I  can’t  help  but  grin  at  him,  looking  shortly  at  the  pizza  cufflink  on  his  suit  to  calm  myself.  But  I  can’t  miss  his  gaze  right  now.  I  want  to  remember  this  for  the  rest  of  my  life.

“Shin-Ae  Yoo,”  there  is  a  long  pause  before  I  look  into  the  eyes  of  the  speaker,  eventually  hearing  the  only  words  that  keep  me  separated  from  calling  Nol  my  spouse.  “Do  you  take  Nolan  Lochlainn  to  be  your  beloved  and  wedded  wife?”

Looking  at  Nol  with  a  smile,  I  have  to  nod  while  saying  “Yes.”

  I  also  tighten  my  grip  around  his  fingers.  Is  this  really  happening?  His  face  looks  just  as  shocked,  but  I  can’t  wait  for  what’s  about  to  come.  “Now  you  may  kiss  the  bride.”

  I  don’t  care  about  the  cheers  once  Nol  approaches  me  and  I  put  my  arms  around  him.  It’s  too  sweet  to  really  describe,  but  I  am  sure  in  will  stay  engraved  into  my  mind.

.

.

.

Fin.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Convince Me To Go {12}

AU Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cursing, Angst, Plot

Words: 4.5k

Summary: When we run away, we’re usually running from something. This time you may have run toward it instead.

Note: Welp. 🤷🏾‍♀️  I hope you enjoy this.

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Your studies in school you studied many different theories and laws. Some of your favorite were The Butterfly Effect, Chaos theory, and Murphy’s law.

 Murphy’s Law says that “Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.” Case in point, your wedding day. You hadn’t slept a wink, you tossed and turned and even rolled off the bed at one point which resulted in you banging your head on your nightstand table. Your mother had a fit which prompted her to make you have almost every facial treatment at the spa that morning. Her hope was that they would be able to exfoliate and microdermabrasion it all away.

 Now at ten in the morning sitting for makeup that bruise was being persistent. No makeup in the world covered it well enough for your mother. So, when the makeup artiste finished while it wasn’t a huge focal you and your mother could still see it. That resulted in almost a thirty-minute tirade from your mother about the importance of your beauty and how things would be jinxed and ruined if you didn’t look like a pristine virgin bride. You tried to tell her that virgin bride hope was long gone, but she didn’t seem to hear.

 Next, your hair didn’t want to cooperate for the planned style. Your edges just wouldn’t lay right and after an hour and a half at almost eleven forty-five you stared in the mirror at your coifed hair with dull amusement. You know who wasn’t amused? Your mother. She went on another tirade, this one you didn’t listen to. You simply sat in the “bride” chair and sipped your seventh glass of champagne. You didn’t care that it wasn’t even noon yet.

Next, the lingerie that was picked out for you to wear underneath the dress was delivered and it was all wrong. What was to be nude colored lace that matched your skin complexion was blush. It was pretty but absolutely wrong, compared to your mother. So, you stood around in the blush-colored lingerie, strapless bra, tanga panty, suspender belt, and your garter sipping what else—more champagne. By twelve-twenty there was nothing else to do but continue forward.

 The entire time you managed to keep yourself composed and tightly wound. You didn’t mutter a peep or remove the plastic smile that was stapled to your face from the moment you sat up. this marathon was far from over.

 Thankfully, your dress was right and as your eight bridesmaids assisted you in getting into the frilly contraption you continued to smile. When you stood in front of the mirror at twelve-forty you almost passed out but not from the pulling and tugging of the laces of your garter back gown or the suffocating way your breasts were hoisted up like you were some eighteenth-century French prostitute, but from the sight of you in the dress. You hadn’t worn it for almost a month and a month ago you felt differently.

 You tried to tell your mother that white was unnecessary, but she wouldn’t hear it. you also told her that the ballgown was too much, but she insisted. It was a beautiful gown, one that cost more than most people made in a year and took nine months to make special for you, but it was not you. you could barely recognize yourself. Everyone around you praised you and said you looked gorgeous and Brod would cry when he saw you, but you tuned them out. From the mirror you caught Bree’s expression, she wasn’t smiling nor was she frowning, she had a complacent look as if she were waiting for something. Probably your impending breakdown, you thought.

 You were supposed to be at the venue by one forty-five so the ceremony could promptly begin at two. Traffic had other ideas; you were sitting in the elaborate white nineteen thirty-six Rolls Royce limo with your mother as your company.  It was bumper to bumper and that was not acceptable to your mother. She proceeded to go on yet another tirade and pestered the driver to hurry up. It was amusing. She didn’t even say anything to you when you popped open the bottle of champagne there. As traffic snailed along you shook your head at yet another thing that had gone wrong.

 When the Rolls Royce finally arrived it was almost two. Your entire party had to hurry into the elevators and to the “bride’s chambers” to make final preparations for the ceremony. As everyone bustled around you rushing to make sure everything was as it was to be you sat in your seat and just twirled your new and improved engagement ring. It was never something you’d done. You didn’t have nervous ticks like shaking legs or chewing your bottom lip or fidgeting before. You’d been groomed to always be poised, controlled. Now you had all three.

 “Ten minutes everyone. Let’s get our places,” your mother cheerily announced. A knock at the door brought everyone’s attention. In walked your father dressed like the perfect gentleman. His smile was warm as he made a beeline to wrap you in a hug.

 “I’ve been so worried.”

 “I’m sorry, daddy.” He looked at you for three seconds and turned to everyone.

 “Everyone I’d like a moment with my daughter.” Everyone made a move for the door leaving the two of you.

 “You’re beautiful, princess.” You smiled.

 “No father can ever imagine that there is a man good enough for his baby girl, his only daughter. With Princeton we have it easy, he’s a boy—a man now. You are my princess, my fragile, precious little jewel.” He brushed the back of his hand across your cheek. You smiled.

 “You’re different. I can see it. you may be able to hide it from everyone else, but not me. I have always seen you.”

 You averted your eyes and sighed.

 “I always thought you’d put an end to this thing. I thought you’d come to me and tell me flat out that this was not what you wanted. I thought you’d find the strength, the courage to forge your own path but here we are.”

 You studied him and saw that he knew.

 “I love your mother more than anything. She’s given me two incredible gifts, you and your brother. I can never thank her enough. She has though turned into someone else over the years. Someone who is completely different than the woman I met. I didn’t love her when I met her or married her. It wasn’t until just before she told me she was pregnant with Princeton that I realized I’d fallen in love with her. It is an unconventional path to take toward love, but we ended up there. Not everyone’s path is the same princess. Grow into love, or Fall into love and grow together. It is all up to you.”

 “Daddy, what are you saying?”

 “Don’t live your life for your mother, or for me. It is your life. Do what makes your eyes sparkle when you smile, do what makes you feel.”

 He placed a soft kiss on your forehead and walked through the door he came. You turned to the mirror and stared at yourself. The breakdown that was steadily approached was so close. You locked the door and pressed your back to it and closed your eyes trying to stave away your panic attack. You ignored the knocks and the rattles of the doorknob. Only when you felt composed enough did you turn it. The first one in was Bree.

 “Ready to go?”

 You heard the double meaning in her words and nodded your head. You flipped the veil and took your bouquet from her and walked through the door toward where your father stood. When he saw you, a somber smirk spread across his face. You couldn’t tell if it was disappointment on his face or sadness. You bit your bottom lip and breathed out as you stood beside him.

 “Ready for the first day of the rest of your life?” It sounded like a threat instead of a well-meant question. Glancing at him his smirk was present but he was looking ahead.

 “As ready as I’ll ever be.” He nodded and touched your hand and nodded. Giving Bree one more glance you nodded. 

The doors opened and your procession line walked down the aisle to the chosen music, a classical piece chosen by your mother. You snorted and laughed. When you tried to stop you continued and everyone looked at you as if you were crazy.

 “Are you okay, princess?” you nodded but continued to laugh.

 “I’m sorry. Oh my god.” Through the words, your laughter continued. Every time the doors opened to allow another of the bridesmaid-groomsmen pair to enter the guests heard your boisterous laugh.

 “Oh my god. Do you—do you realize mom picked every single thing? Everything. The flowers, mom. The color of the bridesmaids' dresses, mom. The groomsmen tuxes, mom. The shoes, mom. The venue here, mom. The priest, mom. The tux you’re wearing, mom. My dress, mom. My underwear, mom, my hair, my makeup, my life. Mom has picked it all. This is her wedding, this is not my wedding,” you frantically blurted out.

 “Nothing involved here I picked. Brodrick, mom picked him. she thought our families would mesh well, she thought our families would be able to dominate together.”

 There were two couples before you now, and Bree was staring at you.

 “I don’t like anything here.”

 “So what are you gonna do about it?” You looked at your father’s stern face. He was daring you to grow some balls, daring you to make a decision you wanted. Daring you to live your life.

 The doors opened and Bree waited for your signal. You knew she was prepared to get you out of there. You took a deep breath, held it and slowly let it out. The song continued to play, and you knew everyone was growing restless. You could imagine your mother standing there getting nervous.

 You looked to Bree and nodded but she didn’t move. She looked to be begging you not to do this. Trying to convince you to go. You nodded again more sternly and she sighed and turned forward and the doors opened allowing her to walk down the aisle.  When the doors opened again you were calm. Everyone in the room gasped and awed when you began the walk of your life. You found Broderick at the end of the aisle standing beside his best man Gavin and a smile spread across his face, but there were no tears. You looked to your mother who also had a pleased smile on her face as many whispered to her no doubt telling her how gorgeous you were.

 Maybe you could grow to love Broderick, he wasn’t an asshole or a bad guy, he’d always been kind and generous. Maybe you could do just what your parents did. Maybe love was a daydream, maybe it was something impractical and frivolous. Maybe those two days in Boston were just you feeling the stress of today and cold feet. Maybe you really could have a happy life and future with Broderick. Anything was possible, right?

 You glanced into the rows of faces; most you didn’t know well. they were there to witness the opulence, the sheer awe of a socialite wedding. You looked up and saw an insane number of flowers just handing from the ceiling and shook your head. This was all too much. None of it felt like you. Now the veil over your face felt claustrophobic, your breasts sitting pretty under your chin felt suffocating, the scent of all the flowers turned from pleasant to putrid, the six-inch heels you wore felt like pins and needles rather than three thousand dollars of comfort. Everything was getting to you, the lights, the falling rose petals from above the flashes of the camera before you cementing every move you made toward your future. A future of doom, you thought. Your steps stopped with the thought. Your mother’s smile stayed where it was, but her eyes were a different story.

 Your father leaned to your ear and asked if you were okay. You didn’t respond. You were too busy trying to shake off the feeling of dread you were wrestling with. Slowly you began again and looked from left to right smiling at your guests. They didn’t know you at all, more than half of these people couldn’t say they knew the first thing about you, not even Broderick. That thought made you stop again. You looked down to your ring finger at your engagement ring, your upgrade. You snorted. An infidelity clause and an upgraded ring from six carats to eight, that was what he thought you would need.

 You continued your walk and quickly looked to your right and saw him.  you looked away before it registered and smiled to your left before your head snapped back to search for him. frantically your eyes went looking but you didn’t see him and thought you imagined him. before you knew it you were at the front where Broderick was waiting. He smiled at you. it was then he lifted the veil off your head and nodded.

 “You’re gorgeous.” The two of you approached the priest and you looked out over the hundreds of people in search of one. You hoped you didn’t imagine him, hoped he was real. You wanted him to be real. After looking through nearly all of them your attention was brought back to the ceremony.

 “If anyone can show just cause why this couple cannot lawfully be joined together in matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

 Silence in the room stretched and you looked again and sure as the roses were still falling there he was. He was standing toward the back with wide eyes and a pale face. you almost passed out. He was there. He was at your wedding. He was watching you right now. A ton of thoughts rushed through your head and so many words came to mind.

 “Let’s continue then. Dearly beloved--.” The words of the priest brought you back as Broderick’s hands squeezed yours. You couldn’t breathe. When you looked still there. Your heart sank and you began slowly hyperventilating. You felt everything you felt over those two days come crashing down. Flaring your nose your tears sprang to your eyes.

 “Do you Broderick Pierce Havenmayer take F-N/ M-N/L-N” to be your lawfully wedded wife?

to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death you are parted by death?”

 “I do.”

 You looked to him again and didn’t hear the priest ask you the same question. You got lost in his eyes again. You then looked over to your parents. Your mother had a stern look that was a threat you knew it, but your father looked mellow, neutral. You looked back to him and you saw the break in his calm disposition. His jaw clenched and his nose flared, and you recognized the slight look of pain.

 “Y/N?”

 Looking back to Broderick and then the priest you nodded. “I—I—I—do.”

 The priest continued to speak and when you looked up it was in time to see the door close. He was gone. Panic went through you, panic you’d never felt before, panic you didn’t know how to deal with. Panic that had you grip your stomach and groan loudly.

 “Are you all right?” those in your bridal party sprang forward ready to assist, your parents were also there as well as Broderick. You fanned them all off and hyperventilated loudly.

 “I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe.” Your bridesmaids fanned you as the murmuring throughout the room increased. You felt hot and agitated. You ripped the veil off your head and sent a few tendrils of your curled updo in disarray. You then fanned and batted each of them away. “Get away, get away. I can’t—I can’t—I can’t do this!”

 Everyone gasped and gaped at you.

 “I can’t do this, I can’t do this. I can’t continue living this complete lie. I can’t keep pretending to be this perfect daughter, a perfect debutant. I don’t care about any of this, this is ridiculous. I look ridiculous. I hate everything about this day, everything. I only like my underwear and that was a mix-up. you snorted and took the first deep breath that felt good enough in a long time. You then looked at Broderick who looked sad.

 “I can’t marry you, Broderick. You don’t love me, not really. You don’t even know me and that’s not your fault until the day before yesterday I didn’t know me either. I can’t stand up here and vow all of these things especially if I don’t love you. I don’t want to grow to love, I want to fall in love and grow together. I want to go to candy stores and eat candy, I want to go to diners at two in the morning and pig out on everything, I want to walk through libraries and do nothing, I want to sit at your besides worried you’ll die because I care, I want to trace your freckles that are on your back with my fingertips in the dead of night when you’re asleep but I’m wide awake. I want to build something for myself, not from my parents, I want to stay up all night doing impractical things, spontaneous things. I want to drink gin and coconut rum together because the combination is actually pretty great. I want prince charming. I don’t want any of this. I’m sorry Brod.” Everyone was silent.

 Your eyes finally landed on your parents. Your father was smiling but your mother looked furious.

 “I’m sorry mom. This is your life; this is your everything. It’s not mine. I want more than just we fit together, or we look good together or we can have a life that most dream of because of money. I want everything else. I want we belong together; we go together, we are going to have a life that most dream of because of love. I want love.”

 She didn’t speak and for the first time, you were so glad about it, because you didn’t care. Your father stepped forward and hugged you. “Go find love.

 You smiled and then took off the ring you wore and handed it to Broderick. He sighed and nodded. You hurried down the aisle you just walked up and out the doors. Frantically you looked around hoping to see him. Every wait staff you passed you asked if they’d seen him, but none had. That continued with you looking throughout the rooms for him. 

After thirty minutes you had no idea what to do. You didn’t even know his name. slowly you became discouraged and walked outside. The snow was coming down and you stood there taking in the fresh air, taking in your freedom. For the first time in your life, you were completely free. You could do whatever you wanted, and you were absolutely terrified.

 Those who passed by stared at you as if it was a strange sight to see a woman in a grand wedding dressed just standing outside in the dead of winter. You probably looked like you belonged anywhere else. A little girl approached you and smiled.

 “You look like the fancy woman in a snow globe.” You smiled and bent down to her and took out one of the flowers in your hair and handed it to her.

 “Thank you.” She giggled and ran off. You smiled and watched her and took another deep breath. Across the street, you saw a bar and decided why the hell not you had nothing else to do.

 You gathered what you could of your dress and walked down the steps to cross the street. you drew the attention of everyone walking down the sidewalks and driving. When you walked into the bar you had to pull your train in after you. When you finished everyone was watching.

 “Hey, where’s the groom beautiful?” You scoffed and approached the bar and gathered your dress around you as you sat. Thanks to all the pouf and frill it was a comfortable sit but now you were surrounded by while tulle and frill.

 “At the altar, where I left him.”

 “Oh, tough for him.”

 “He has a lot of money to keep him warm.”

 “What can I get ya’? it’s on the house in honor of this.” He pointed up and down on you.

 “Thanks. Gin and coconut rum.”

 “Together?” You nodded, he looked at you as if you were crazy.

 “Keep em’ coming.”

 He walked off to prepare your dink. Behind the bar, you saw the mirror and it was the first look of yourself you got. Your hair was a mess, curly tendrils fell down all around your face, the put-together look you had hours ago was gone. You looked crazy. you snorted and laughed at yourself. The bartender put a drink in front of you and you wasted no time downing it in one breath. The burn woke you up and made you breathe out and shake your head.

 In the mirror, you saw his reflection. He was sitting in the back, in the dark staring at you. Your heart sped and you looked at yourself again. The glint of the gold wrapper of butterscotch in a dish on the bar made you smile. Sliding off the stool you walked over to him with the drink in your hand. The train and bustle of your dress bounced seats and other patrons. When you stood in front of him he took you in from toe to face but he didn’t speak.

 “What’s a nice man like yourself doing in a place like this at three in the afternoon?”

 “Looking for a runaway,” he responded.

 “Runaway? What did she run away from?”

 “Well first she ran from her perfect put-together life that had no love, then she ran from the possibility of one that wasn’t so perfect or put together but would have been all the love she needed. Now it seems she ran from this perfect loveless life again.”

  “Maybe she realized that in order for her life to be perfect and put together all she needed was love.”

 He nodded. “Spoken like the writer of a Hallmark card.” You smiled.

 “I still don’t have millions of dollars. I don’t come with some earth-shattering wealth and companies that are worth billions. I don’t have private jets, or fancy outfits and cars to offer you. I don’t have a penthouse in the sky with doormen and drivers. I probably can’t afford a Harry Winston diamond. I won’t be able to take you out on my yacht, or keep you decked in Chanel, Fendi, Prada, and Loubitons every single day of every year. I’m not Broderick.”

 “Thank god for that.” You bit your bottom lip put the drink on the table and held out your closed hand to him then opened it showing him the butterscotch in your palm.

 “Can you promise to love me for the rest of my life? Can you promise to listen to me, respect me, honor me, be faithful to me one hundred percent? Can you promise that you’ll always be a man of integrity and goodwill and will work every day doing honest work to keep us comfortable? Can you promise that though I have an overabundance of wealth you can easily exceed it in love, devotion, and passion?” A small smile spread on his face. he reached for the butterscotch and you closed your palm.

 “It’s only yours if you can promise those things.” He stood coming face to face with you.

 “I promise fancy face,” he answered. You smiled and held out the butterscotch. He took it then popped it into his mouth. He then pulled you flush against him and wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace. You relished his scent and the feel of him in your arms again. It was a feeling you thought you’d never have again.

 “Are you sure about this? You sure you won’t regret this and wish you could be who you are?”

 You touched his cheek. “I wasn’t me until I met the nicest asshole in the world who saved my life twice and showed me who I was.” His smile was wide as he shook his head.

 “Asshole huh.” You nodded.

 “But I love the asshole. He’s the only man I could ever love. I love you prince charming. you never had to prove to me or anyone else you were good enough. I needed to be good enough for you. I left Broderick because he wasn’t you.”

 He looked choked up and you saw the emotion in his eyes.

 “I love you, fancy face.” You smiled and crashed your lips to his and kissed him with every ounce of love and passion you had for him.

 “Careful buddy, she left the last guy at the alter!”

 Everyone around you laughed, you pulled away and laughed as well.

 “You did.”

 “I did. You missed the best speech I’ve ever given in my life. In front of everyone, I blew up my life.” He smiled and took out his phone to show you a video of you doing that very thing. Your jaw dropped. You’d made it to the gossip blogs already.

 “I caught it. I was pretty good.” You smiled again and kissed him some more. You’d never get tired of kissing him. He lifted you into the air against him and the joy you felt couldn’t be measured or duplicated. 

 “Ready to go back to Boston?”

 “Convince me to go.”

 He smiled again then whispered the kinkiest things you’d ever heard in your life. You looked at him with wide eyes and his laugh was loud, the laugh you loved.

 “Don’t you think it’s time I knew your name?” He smiled again and stepped back from you then held his hand out.

 “Chris Evans.” You smiled, he kind of looked like a Chris.

 “Y-F-N/Y-L-N.” He nodded then shook your hand.

 “Nice to meet you,” the two of you said in unison with smiles as wide as Manhattan. Chris took up the drink and gulped half then held it out to you. you finished the glass and nodded.

 “Good together huh.”

 “Belongs together,” he finished.

 You smiled and kissed him again. Then the two of you walked out the bar into the snow, you in your fancy two hundred-thousand-dollar wedding dress and six in heels and him with a smile plastered to his face. He took his jacket off and put it around you then held his hand out for you. You took it and both of you walked down the sidewalk ready for whatever came next.

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[ikonsmut]

NSFW alphabet | JAY

A - aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

aftercare with jinhwan is a bit lazy but he takes it seriously. all he really wants to do is pass out with you snuggled against him, but he can’t do that before checking and double checking that you’re okay

B - body part (their favorite body part of their partners)

jinhwan doesn’t really have a favorite body part. not to sound sappy or anything, but he loves all of you and he’ll make sure that you know it

C - cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he likes to cum on your face or your chest, if he can help it. there’s just something about seeing you like that, covered in his release, that turns him on so much

D - dirty secret (self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he’s never brought it up, and he hopes that you never will, but both of you know about that pair of your undies tucked between his mattresses that he likes to bring out when he’s bored and lonely. the lace doesn’t compare to you, but it’s better than just his hand, right?

E - experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he’s pretty experienced, so he knows what he’s doing and he’s quite good at it

F - favorite position (this goes without saying)

doggy style!! jinhwan is a dominant guy, so any position where he’s in full control is his favorite, but there’s so much he can do with you when you’re on your hands and knees for him like that

G - goofy (are they more serious in the moment, are they humorous, etc)

somewhere in the middle. sex is serious, but he still wants to keep the mood light. he’ll tease you, or smile and tell you how beautiful you are, or even tell you little things to make you laugh

H - hair (how well groomed are they, etc)

he’s not bare, but he does prefer to keep things short. grooming isn’t very high on his list of priorities, especially since he’s not that hairy to begin with, but he never lets it grow past a certain point. 1/3 of the borderline bare boys

I - intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

jinhwan is a very romantic lover, but he isn’t the type to go all out. he can easily show his love by doing little things like covering the bed in rose petals and lighting your favorite scented candle or taking the time to kiss every inch of you

J - jack off (masturbation headcanon)

if he’s horny and he’s got time, he’s going to do something about it. everyone knows when he’s getting himself off, too, because he’s so loud. if he wakes up from a wet dream and you’re next to him, he’ll edge himself until you wake up to help

K - kink (one or more of their kinks)

jinhwan is a mean dom, and he’ll do the most to remind you that he’s the one in charge. denying you orgasms, giving you as many as you can take, orgasm control is one of his favorite kinks and it boosts his confidence knowing that your pleasure all depends on him

L - location (favorite places to do the do)

he loves to fuck you in the living room when no one else is home. afterwards, he’ll whisper in your ear to remind you what the two of you had done right where everyone is sitting now. when he can’t fuck you there, he’ll do it in his room, rest assured everyone knows what you two are doing

M - motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

he’s not the easiest to turn on, the mood has to be right or he won’t be into it. one sure-fire way to get him is by touching him; grasping his thigh, tracing your fingers along his tattoos, or pressing soft kisses to his neck almost always works

N - no (something they wouldn’t do)

jinhwan would never share you, so threesomes or voyeurism is off the table. he doesn’t care if people hear how good he’s fucking you, but he would never take it a step further than that

O - oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

the king of oral, his tongue alone can bring you to the edge within minutes but when he adds his fingers? you’re a shaking mess. he also likes to tease; giving you just little kitten licks, making eye contact while he goes down on you and smacking your shaking thighs. as for receiving, he’ll never turn down getting his dick sucked, and you can count on him holding your head still while he fucks your throat im a mess

P - pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc)

jinhwan will start off with slow, shallow thrusts, but once you start begging him to pick up the pace, he’ll be going so fast and hard that your head is spinning. he isn’t necessarily rough, his thrusts are just very quick and deep

Q - quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc)

on one hand, jinhwan never wants to pass up an opportunity to bury himself inside of you. on the other hand, he would much rather take time to please both of you right. quickies are rare but they do happen from time to time, especially if one of you is feeling particularly needy

R - risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc)

one of the least experimental members, he likes what he’s doing already, so why change it up? if you suggest something you want to try, he’ll consider it, but he doesn’t bring anything up on his own

S - stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

jinhwan tends to spend a while on foreplay, plus he loves to tease you, but the actual sex lasts for about ten minutes. he’s usually good for two or three rounds so long as he gets a breather in-between

T - toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

toys aren’t really his thing (he’s got a dick and it works just fine) but he does own two; a vibrator and some silk rope. he doesn’t use them often, he prefers when you moan and cry because of his cock, so when you see him with them you know you’re in for a long night

U - unfair (how much they like to tease)

jinhwan loves to tease!! he loves to hear you cry, feel you shake, and he especially loves it when you beg for him to fuck you. nothing boosts his confidence like having you so desperate for him

V - volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

as previously stated, he is very loud… a whiner!! if something feels good, you’ll know by the high pitched whining in your ear. afterwards, he gets pretty shy about the noises he made, no matter how sexy cute they were

W - wildcard (random headcanon)

the first time was an accident, but now he can’t get enough of it. jinhwan is 1/3 of the members i can see being into mutual masturbation. when he first walked in, he automatically walked back out and tried to get the image out of his head… except he couldn’t. it was so hot to see you like that. now whenever you’re getting off, it’s only a matter of time before jinhwan walks in with his pants undone

X - xray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

may i just say that i HATE this one jinhwan is average. he’s not too small, but he’s not too big either. 5-5.3” when he’s hard, and he’s pretty thick, too

Y - yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

his sex drive isn’t insanely high, but it’s enough for him to want you every single day. that’s not necessarily realistic given his schedule, but 4-5 times a week keeps him happy and satiated

Z - zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he tries so hard to wait for you before he knocks out, but once you’re back in his arms, jinhwan is OUT. you can try and talk to him afterward, but don’t be surprised when he falls asleep halfway through his sentence

sorry for the sudden inactivity!! i wanted to post this on thursday but didn’t have time to finish before the got7 concert (which was awesome!!) i’m not always on this account, so if you want or need to talk to me about literally anything, my main blog is @ultmino!

[willow-of-hingashi]

Fighting Something Fierce [RP]

(( Rating: PG-13 ))

(( Trigger Warning: Mentions and displayed symptoms of an eating disorder, crude language, discussion of death )) (( Genre: Slice of Life, Angst ))

(( Cast: Emmaline Ibori of @the-firetouched​ and Nobuyuki ‘Ichihiko’ Ienaka ))

Emmaline Ibori a hefty knock is heard on the door, followed by a muffled "It's me."

Nobuyuki Ienaka slipped shut the shinpo he was reading, going to slide it underneath the zataku to hide it. Perhaps a bit too far. . . he'd regret that later. With that, he rose, going along to get the door. "Ibori-san," he began with a soft smile. "So good to see you again. Come in, come in. I can make some tea."

Emmaline Ibori nods quickly, stepping in. She's more used to his politeness now, but it feels like a different thing entirely for her when it isn't around a bunch of people. She feels like a coarse pighair or something. The thought makes her blush a little orange. "Ah, yeah. Sounds good." She stuffs her hands in her pockets a moment as she steps in, as if afraid to mke his apartment dirty. "Nice little place you got."

Nobuyuki Ienaka shrugged as he closed the door. "You have my thanks. It really isn't much, but it was nice enough to afford on my salary from the okiya." Then, he moved away to head towards the kitchenette. "I was just reading an article about how to spot an authentic katana, compared to fake props made by tourist centers and scam artists. I think you would be interested in it."

Emmaline Ibori follows in nervously. The large pack is upon her shoulder once again, bearing within his gift. "...I would. Not that I got the...the, you know, fancy touch for something like that." Maybe one day. "Sorry I had ta leave the party early the other day...my Da called and he never does that. Thought he was dyin," she jokes flatly.

Nobuyuki Ienaka canted his head, pursing his chapped lips; he typically seemed more well-groomed. "I hope he was alright," he responded, just then looking down to Emma's shoes. ". . . ah, you can leave those at the door. Your boots, I mean. I'm trying to keep the wood quality and all so the landlord doesn't throw more of a fit than finding out I'm looking to get a pet snake!"

Emmaline Ibori looks down and curses herself lightly. She always forgets this rule...mostly because back home you're better off keeping shoes on..."Shit, sorry," she says, before hurrying to take them off. "Yeah, he was fine, just suddenly remembered I'd been out of the house a while." She shakes her head. The man tries, she supposed... She returns, shoeless. "A pet snake?" She grins a little at this. "I'll be honest, didn't peg ye for the type."

Nobuyuki Ienaka shook his head, smiling. The gesture made it more apparent that underneath his jaw line was puffy, but not exactly red. "Yes, I've been looking for a little creature to care for. I've thought, why not a snake? I've been really torn between a carpet python or a butterfly adder, but I may consider the python as it is less. . . dangerous, though the adders have good temperaments. Usually." He set a full kettle on the stove to boil. "They're beautiful in their own way, snakes. Elegant but capable predators."

Emmaline Ibori listens to this intently, but the subtle offness to his appearance begins to catch her eye, and she loses track of the conversation. She takes a few intent steps toward him before she realizes what she's doing. "You get into a fight recently?" she asks bluntly, before blinking and backtracking. "Er....not that it's my business otherwise but since I'm ye bodyguard I thought..."

Nobuyuki Ienaka 's brows furrowed in confusion as Emma came over, seeming genuinely uncertain where the question arose from. "No? I don't. . . I have you for that." The way he spoke, nothing seemed broken. Just irritated. Casually, he moved towards the table, though in passing it was apparent the area around his eyes had specks of red. Possibly broken blood vessels, but his makeup obscured some of it. "Come. I've brought your Starlight gift home with me, for safe keeping. It's fitting we make an exchange at the same time, no? Such is Starlight tradition, apparently. I've luckily found a chest to put yours in!"

Emmaline Ibori moves to sit across from him, which gives her time to regroup from her embarrassment. Something IS off, she can feel it, but Sterrwyda back home had beaten her over the head (lovingly) enough for outright stating someone who cared for their looks "looked tired" or something like that. So she sits and hoists her bag to the side as she reconsiders her approach. "I didn't," she says, sheepish. "Do you wanna go first or me?"

Nobuyuki Ienaka rubbed the back of his neck with his gloved hand. "Oh, goodness. . . I don't think you can take a chest home. . . maybe it wouldn't be so bad to open our gifts a day or two before Starlight." He shrugged, then going over to the nearby door. "Excuse me for one moment." He head inside to fiddle with something that sounded heavy. "O-Okay, close your eyes!"

Emmaline Ibori: "Heh." But she does close her eyes. If he needed help he would call right...?

Nobuyuki Ienaka head outside the room, his footsteps shuffling audibly as he tries to navigate through the doorway. "Okay, open!" His biceps are bulging while supporting the weight of the axe he was carrying. It was a refined, light-colored steel, pieced together at the handle with saurian leather. Within the head were elegantly constructed pattern; a dragon. "I've thought this was fitting enough for you. . . I do hope you like it!"

Emmaline Ibori opens her eyes and then nearly shoots to her feet. "Holy shit!" she says -- clearly appreciative -- as she hoists the axe in her hands. She feels its balance and its weight. "Ha! Wow...where did you find this? It's incredible!"

Nobuyuki Ienaka beamed with pride at Emma's reaction as he hoists the axe into her arms. "It's a secret," he cooed, "But perhaps Naldiq and Vymelli's made a special order for me. . . you know, dragons are a symbol of prosperity and good luck in the Far East. They are almost worshipped in Doma! I hope it brings you luck wherever the head lands so it strikes true. . . but I have no doubts with your talents."

Emmaline Ibori grins so brightly at Nobu -- it may be one of the few truly genuine smiles she's given in a long time. "...wow. I dunno what to say except thank you...I'm really honored!" She steps away to practice swinging it a few times. Ah. Nice. She turns back to him, smiling, though a bit sheepish now. "Heh, I should probably give you yours...though it uh...I got it in Thavnair cuz it made me think of...things you like." She clears her throat as she gently places the axe against the doorway near the exit, and then returns to the bag by the table. She digs a moment, and then pulls out a shimmery, sumptuous cloth...a gold and red brocade in the traditional style. She can't quite meet his face. "I'm...no good at this sort of thing but...anyway..."

Nobuyuki Ienaka placed his hands over his chest before going to take the brocade, running his fingers over it. "Oh, you really shouldn't have, Ibori-san. . . it's /gorgeous/! This is from Thavnair?" He looked back up to her again, his eyes bright, despite their puffiness. "I will have to commission this into a dress. Yes, that would be perfect. . . oh, and I know exactly what kind! Something long and flowing. . . oh, I can't wait! Something Hingan-inspired, with no collar or sleeves. . ." Abruptly, his gaze sank. "Perhaps with a shawl. . . I-I don't know if I could pull it off like that, but thank you. Really, thank you. It's gorgeous."

Emmaline Ibori: "Why not?" she asks, emboldened by his bright response to the gift. "You look good. You got toned arms. I couldn't wear that cuz I'd look like a chocobo in a blanket. But you'd look great." She seems legit confused by this statement. "I know you been a delight at the Onsen. Whoever this Johdi was or whatever."

Nobuyuki Ienaka touched his arms lightly with his right hand; the scabs on the knuckles made apparent. "Well, I mean. . . I think you're beautiful." His eyes shifted away. "I-I mean. . . I just do what I can for work. Just enough." A little more quickly and in a softer voice, he'd added, "Besides, I've broken up with Johdi."

Emmaline Ibori scoffs a little when he calls her beautiful, mostly out of instinct, but she gets the feeling he means it more than other people would and blushes. Still, he seems thrown off enough...and the admission regarding Johdi alongside with the scabbed up hand has her concerned. "...did it go okay?" She takes a moment and rubs her temples. "Look. I'm real bad at this, so, sorry, but...you seem...I dunno. Did she upset you real bad?"

Nobuyuki Ienaka set the staff of brocade down on the table. "It went fine- she accepted it great. W-We're still friends, I just. . . I'm not upset." Out of nowhere, his tone became accusing. Irritable. "I'm perfectly fine. Why do you care?" Currently, it was like someone else had taken his body. He'd felt that way, too. He was scowling, but his eyes shimmered slightly.

Emmaline Ibori recoils slightly at the sudden change in tone. Immediately, her mind centers and clears, as if about to enter a fight, and her hands clench -- but when she scans the situation, she realizes it may not be a fight at all. More like...she'd poked the nest, went a little far. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was stepping where she shouldn't. But she glances to the axe by the door. He cared, or he wouldn't have made that, right? She's not an idiot, and fairness is important to her. Equal exchange. So she thinks about it. Turning it over and over in her head in thick silence, watching him, until a dawning of something darkens her eyes. "It's my job, for starters," she says, real calm like. "And I ain't an idiot or a fool or you wouldn'a hired me. I also don't pry none else if you don't want. But...I..." She extends her hands out, before letting them slap to her sides again. "I just see what I see. Pretty flower fightin' somethin' real fierce."

Nobuyuki Ienaka recoiled slightly as if in disgust. Likely at his own actions rather than Emma's. He was tempted to blurt out that she wouldn't understand, but the root of it all, the start of it all. . . she'd probably could. "It's not that bad," he instead tries to insist, turning his face away from reality. "Sometimes I overeat. I don't. . . I can't become overweight. Then. . ." Then nobody would want him anymore. "The geisha at Sanjo Hanamachi-- they only cared because I was a 'pretty flower'." His eyes scavenged the room, searching for an answer that wasn't there. Only his father would understand him. ". . . you're angry, aren't you. Just like my mother was." He pushed the brocade further on the table and took a few steps away. ". . . maybe it is time for you to leave."

Emmaline Ibori raises her hands as if to show she had no weapons in this fight. "I ain't mad," she says, and her tone is truthful. "I ain't. I just a bit of...a chocobo in a glass shop? Never was good at keeping out of where I don't belong. If I think there's trouble..." She rubs the back of her neck. "...I'll leave if that's what you want. I din't come to upset ye, Ichihiko, honest." She clears her throat. "Ichihiko-san."

Nobuyuki Ienaka | People needed to stop becoming what they believed would make Nobuyuki approve. That was his job and his alone. Slowly, he turned, his feet padding lightly against the wood as his arms hung by his sides. "No. . . it is unbecoming of me to throw you out. I. . . I shouldn't do that. I'm sorry." He faced Emma. . . and bowed. He kept it for a while. "I can't stop making these mistakes," he stated. "I shouldn't burden you with them. . . I'm sorry. . ."

Emmaline Ibori squints at this in mild confusion. They were bouncin 'round like a marble on a shaky road, as Sterrwyda would say (also confusingly). But she felt that to be right. "What mistakes? You din't do anything 'cept get pissed when I step into not-my-business, which is yer right." All this about saving face -- it did not yet compute fully with her.  "I jus'..." She scowls. It's kinda amusing on her face in this context.

Emmaline Ibori: "I'm yer professional bodyguard, aye, but if you need help I can probably fit you in on the off hours. If ye needed." A gruff woman's bad attempt at saying that she cares.

Emmaline Ibori: "And...'scuse my language, but fuck 'em. Wear the dress. Eat what you want. Who's gonna tell you what to do now, the Gods?"

Nobuyuki Ienaka remained in place. A droplet of water fell from one of his eyes and landed on the corner of the table, reflecting light in that spot. "That. . . is the problem," he responded. "I feel so empty. . . I just eat. It fills me up until I get sick. Even when I'm not, I /make/ myself sick. Nobody. . . nobody was ever supposed to know." His eyes squeezed shut, still not looking to Emma, even upon rising. "It was supposed to be my burden my bear! I don't understand. . . why would you make time for someone pathetic, like me?" His hands rose to cover his face, like a child hiding from the truth when they've gotten caught.

Emmaline Ibori steps forward, hands hovering outward. She remembers enough at least to know that Hingans have Rules about this sort of thing, and its likely weird enough to be crying. On top of that, she's truly horrible at emoting like a normal Spoken being. She frowns heavily as he discusses his unfillable emptiness -- a problem she is not qualified to fix -- but when he turns the question upon her, she is unable to stop a mild 'heh'.

Emmaline Ibori: "Why ye think I'm still a freelancer after all this time?" she says. She smiles, but its self-effacing. "I ain't smart but I know meself well enough. I'm..." She looks away, gathering up her words. "...always lookin' for somethin' that ends up not bein' there. It's easier to freelance than pretend I'm part of something." She says nothing else about it, but this clearly has hit some core aspect of her. "But...fuck. Sometimes you just need a fuckin' friend, ya know? And like I said. Not too smart. So I always end up stickin' my nose in too far." Her tone is lightened -- perhaps to make him laugh.

Nobuyuki Ienaka slowly removed his hands from his face, revealing streams of black makeup running down his swollen cheeks. ". . . even if I'm not an exciting friend. . ." he replied, his shoulders slumping. "I don't go and fight pirates like you. I just talk to them until they get so drunk they're pissing in places they shouldn't be." He almost managed a smile. A teeny tiny one. "I appreciate it, but. . . I don't know what to do. Ever since Father passed. . . I haven't found someone who understands me the same way."

Emmaline Ibori: "Fightin' pirates can also get old," she says with a smirk. "You can damn trust me on that. I ain't fixin' to go to sea for a minute after my last job...but. Anyway." She leans back a little and crosses her arms over her chest, huffing mildly as she observes him. "Even seafarers sometimes have ta...stop. Everyone's got their thing. I'm not a good talker, Ichihiko-san, ye know that. I can listen. And...maybe you can find something that helps. Someone good at listenin' maybe."

Nobuyuki Ienaka worked with his fingers warily, looking down at the calluses. "I'll. . . I'll think about it," he replied, resigning his previously defensive stance. Just then, the kettle screeched, causing Nobuyuki to rush over, running eye makeup and all, to take it off. "Ah, right, tea. . . hey. . . do you. . . would- can you stay a while? For the night. I-If you have nowhere to go and that's alright with you." He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "T-To. . . I feel safer that way. For myself."

Emmaline Ibori blinks at this but after a long moment, she nods. "Y-yeah." She swallows down air around the uncharacteristic stutter. "O' course. I got nothin' but time. Not delivering somethin' to Ul'dah for another day or two. And I can sleep like a rock anywhere. It'll be funny." She smiles and approaches to offer her assistance with the tea. "...have you ever worn a big hat with a dress? Like a big sun hat? I seen ladies wear that sometimes..."

[journalxxx]

Entropy Balance (1)

"All right, I'm gonna have to ask you to stop doing that." Maxwell blinked, suddenly yanked out of his reverie. Wilson was side-eyeing him with that inane hostility that was usually spurred by Maxwell doing something he didn't trust. Except, this time Maxwell was sure he was doing absolutely nothing other than lying on his straw roll and waiting for sleep to catch up with him. He spread his arms in dismay. "What?" "Staring at me. It's annoying." Wilson turned away and resumed drying his hair, vigorously rubbing a rough cloth on his head. "As if there weren't already enough eyes in the darkness always watching." "I-" Maxwell stopped. He hadn't- he'd been staring, hadn't he? He bit back a string of imaginative curses, but the silence got Wilson's attention anyway. He peeked at Maxwell again, squinting to an almost comical degree. "You're still doing it."

"I'm looking at the fire!" He huffed, gesturing wildly. "The only thing worth looking at, since it's the only source of light. You're standing right beside the fire, I can't not see you. Do you think your feeble sanity can withstand such an atrocious ordeal or do I have to gouge my eyes out for you to feel more comfortable?" "You aren't looking at the fire, you're looking at me. What is it, the scars?" Wilson turned and spread his arms, fully showing his torso. "Fascinating, aren't they? I wonder whose fault it is that I have so many. Look, if you connect these five you get the Libra-" "Oh knock it off, for heaven's sake." Maxwell turned over with a grunt, granting Wilson his precious privacy and forcibly removing the distracting sight from his field of view. "You know, I would love to think you were contemplating and maybe regretting the lasting consequences of your trickery on my health and life, but I fear it would be optimistic to the point of idiocy." Maxwell gritted his teeth, glaring at the complete darkness and shutting his eyes forcefully, as if to scrape the very memory of the image from his retinae. "Goodnight, Higgsbury."

It was a sad truth of life, that no man was ever aware of how valuable a thing was until it was lost. It took Maxwell mere days of his newly-found freedom to remember exactly how overrated and taxing complete humanity was, with all its annoying mental and physical needs. The King of the Constant didn't need to eat or sleep, being sustained and maintained purely by dark forces flowing in the throne. It came at the hefty price of self-determination, freedom of movement, loss of a wide spectrum of emotions and unending, excruciating boredom, but it did have its perks compared to the vexing condition of the average survivor. Rediscovering hunger pains had been a mostly unpleasant experience, although life in the camp was organized enough to never let them get too hindering. Pain, in general, was something Maxwell tried to avoid like the plague, including the annoying soreness of tired muscles that came after a long day of gathering and scavenging. Luckily enough, Wilson and his own puppets were often more than capable of dealing with those tasks themselves, while Maxwell pretended to keep himself busy with lighter work around the base. One issue he truly wasn't expecting, however, was how deeply distracting close-quarter coexistence with Wilson could turn out to be, especially when it came to mundane chores like bathing and grooming. It was nothing new, in truth. Maxwell had spent months observing Wilson's antics from the throne, delighted and thoroughly entertained by his struggles and misadventures. He had seen him countless times in different states of undressing, and his mind hadn't dwelled on the fact even for a second. The King's thoughts and actions, after all, were nothing but an extension of the Shadows' will, whose interests reigned supreme and discreetly steered the hands and eyes of Their most valuable puppet in the desired direction. They harbored no interest for beauty or harmony, it would be against Their very nature. But Maxwell... well, he fancied himself a man of taste. Where elegance could be found, in all its possible manifestations, whether in the smart cut of a tailored suit, or in the cunning strategy of a game of chess, or in the red bloom adorning a lady's hair, or in the solid outline of a determined jaw, he would always take a moment to savour it. Wilson P. Higgsbury had no such qualities. The perpetual state of disarray of his hair and clothing was a testament to his lack of style, his self-proclaimed and questionable "science" was more of a pig-headed trial-and-error approach to any given problem rather than a rigorous method, his inexplicable naivety would net him a row of losses in both chess and poker. It wasn't by accident that Maxwell had observed him more carefully than any other survivor, oh no. It was just too amusing to see in how many different ways this ridiculous little man could fail. And yet, ultimately, this ridiculous little man did not fail. He died, oh he did, over and over again. Starved, frozen to death, mauled by the beasts, stomped by tree guardians, driven insane by his own nightmares, swallowed by the darkness, deadly injured by traps. Yet, he always came back, with a touch stone found by sheer luck, or a meticulously crafted amulet, or a creepy statue of flesh. No matter what Maxwell threw at him, this ridiculous little man kept moving forward, through sheer, blundering, inelegant stubborness, until he was facing his very captor in the throne room. And even after that, even after being seized by the dark powers as their new King, it had taken no more than a month for him to regain his freedom to do what he knew best: stumbling forward, with no clear plan or reason. It boggled the mind, and having been bested by such an individual did hurt the former King's pride to some extent, there was no point in denying that. But Maxwell wasn't so petty as to dismiss as completely insignificant what had proved to be a decisive trait of Wilson's character, a trait that had left its marks on his body as well. And once Maxwell's mind had been freed from the numbing grasp of the Shadows, he had found that his eyes naturally tended to...linger. Wilson wasn't an imposing man by any means, almost as thin as Maxwell and much shorter too. But months of hardships had shaped him into a curious specimen of a man, with its own rough but undeniable elegance. He was still very slim, his diet too austere to allow for any real muscle growth, but he was a far cry from the scrawny recluse Maxwell had dragged through the portal. The outline of his muscles under his skin was perfectly visible with each and every movement, every time he bent this or that way or lifted unsuspected weights with little effort. The very shape of his shoulders, the faint furrow along his spine, the small dip of his lower back could drive lesser men to tears, and Maxwell was sure that despite the many small nicks and scars, his skin would feel almost perfectly smooth to the- "What on earth is your problem?" Maxwell winced. Damn it, damn Wilson and himself and the damned Shadows that put them together. "If my presence bothers you so much, why don't you bathe in the eastern pond during the day instead of here at night?" "Because I'd rather not being attacked by frogs, eels, tentacles and whatever horrors you placed in this God-forsaken land, for example. A stupid white carrot followed and screamed at me for an hour while I went there to fill the buckets this afternoon." "How unfortunate. A screaming white carrot, you said?" "Yes, what the hell was it? I've never seen anything like that before. I had to shove it back into the ground to make it stop." "And where, exactly?" "Near the second... you're trying to distract me." Wilson glared at Maxwell, slapping the piece of cloth in the bucket with a small splash. "Look, I'm not an idiot-" "Debatable, but go on." "Maxwell." Wilson turned to face him fully, his expression suddenly very serious and his tone lower. "Do you really think I haven't noticed?" Ah, he had finally mustered the gall for a direct approach. This could likely take a very bad turn, but the temptation to meet Wilson's challenge head-on was too strong, consequences be damned. Maxwell closed the Codex, which he had been reading- been trying to read since the scientist had started his usual ablutions. He stood up and went to sit near the fire, on the same log as Wilson, so close that their arms almost touched. He took a long, slow drag on his cigar, savouring it, letting the smoky shadow permeate his lungs, and he looked, blatantly and leisurely. He looked at the untamable tangle of hair crowning Wilson's head, sticking every which way in a half-dried mess. He considered the sharp angle of his jaw, adorned with that rough stubble just at the right length to suit Maxwell's taste, seeing as he looked like a ridiculous prepubescent altar boy when clean-shaven, and like a veritable caveman when the beard grew bushier. He observed his chest, pleasantly proportionate and without an ounce of fat, peppered with roughly-healed scars that interrupted the even distribution of hair, just as abundant as on his face. His gaze dropped languidly lower, following its soft, dark trail until it disappeared under the hem of Wilson's trousers. Then he finally looked up, straight in the scientist's disconcerted eyes, and exhaled fully, lazily, coils of shadows lapping at Wilson's face. "Noticed what, if I may ask?" Wilson's reaction was priceless. He jumped on his feet as if he had been bitten by a snake, eyes fixed on Maxwell as his hand fumbled around blindly for his shirt. He hastily put it on, his face red and scrunched in upset. "Is there a single shred of morality in you that isn't irredeemably twisted?" "I'm afraid not." Old habits died hard, and poking at Wilson's flimsy mental balance was just as entertaining as ever, no matter the circumstances. Maxwell smiled amicably, supporting his chin on his fist. "I take that the notion distresses you." "You- you...!" Wilson's fists were clenched against his sides, his face a mask of sheer rage. He was a temperamental man, after all. As soon as he had learnt of Maxwell's betrayal, he had immediately flung himself at his shadow projection, uselessly trying tackle him to the ground. He had tried to attack him in the throne room, too, nearly getting himself incinerated along with his weapon by the protective spells. There had been nothing to protect Maxwell from his next outburst, when they had casually met in the Constant later on, and he could still remember the remarkable bruise Wilson's knuckles had left on his cheekbone for the following days. He wasn't looking forward to another scuffle, but he'd be damned before he let himself get intimidated by Wilson. "Cat got your tongue?" He kept smiling, unperturbed. "I hadn't figured you for such a prude, you know." "You- It's not- This is enough!" Wilson burst out, abruptly pacing in front of the fire, arms flailing about like a lunatic. "This is enough! There is only so much I can tolerate, and I'm already well past my limit." He fetched his backpack, emptied it, and started shoving random materials in it. Flint, logs, stones, a handful of carrots, some charcoal. He then threw it at Maxwell, who barely dodged the sharp stick that flew toward his forehead afterwards. "Here are some supplies and a torch. Take them and get out of my sight. You aren't welcome in this camp anymore." Maxwell blinked, then looked at the backpack. He blinked again, then looked again at Wilson. He seemed positively murderous, his words were as stern as they could be, and this was a very tense and delicate moment, but Maxwell just couldn't do it. He tried to remain serious and answer with equal poignancy, maybe even putting up some pretense of rightful disdain, but he just couldn't. He snorted and covered his face, but he couldn't hold back the roaring laughter that erupted from his belly and shook his whole body. "Really, pal? You're willing to cooperate and gloss over the fact that I trapped you here, unleashed hellish horrors upon you countless times, and ultimately confined you to the clutches of the throne in exchange for my own freedom, but this is the dealbreaker? The worst and most unforgivable sin, peeping at a man having a bath one foot away from me?" He snorted again and wiped a small tear from his eye, genuinely out of breath from the laughter. "How very anticlimactic." "It's not about this, trust me. This is just the last straw in the largest hay pile of history!" Wilson went on, glaring daggers at him. "You have no notion of decency or respect! I welcome you in my camp, I share my supplies, I deal with the heaviest tasks, I bear with your complete lack of remorse and your unsufferable jabs, and you don't even care! You keep acting as if you're doing me a favor by staying here! I genuinely can't tell if you actually think you'd have no trouble surviving on your own, or if you just enjoy torturing me in any conceivable way. Well, I am done with this. I am done with you. If you can't even bother to respect my privacy and insist on treating me like a- a plaything to satisfy your every sick whim, then I can't be bothered to care about your wellbeing. Grab your things and leave, Maxwell." That was genuinely impressive, he had to admit it. It wasn't like Maxwell had expected their shaky, reluctant alliance to last more than few months in the first place, but he hadn't foreseen such a peculiar conclusion. "I've gotta hand it to you, pal, you really-" "Shut up." Wilson cut him off abruptly. His eyes had grown tired, but steely. "I said enough. Get lost and don't show your face around here again." "...Very well." Apparently playtime was over. Maxwell dispelled the shadow cigar, stood up, shook off some dust from his suit and grabbed Wilson's generous handout. He graced his former partner with a single glance, waiving mockingly at him. "So long, Higgsbury." He lit his torch and ventured into the darkness.

Maxwell woke at dawn, having unfortunately fallen asleep facing exactly the direction of the rising sun. He wondered for a moment about the empty view of the wilderness, with the noticeable absence of the chests, assorted structures, organized bushes and scattered tools that adorned the camp, before remembering he did not have a camp anymore. He groaned, annoyed at the perspective of the whole lot of work his new situation would involve, and turned on his side to catch a few more minutes of sleep. He found himself looking at Wilson, idly sitting near the embers of his dying fire. They blinked at each other for a moment. "Say pal, I think you may have gotten lost. Your camp is further up north." Wilson sighed. He looked like he hadn't slept much, if at all. He tiredly rummaged in his backpack and pulled out a small envelope, putting it down near Maxwell's head. "I brought some breakfast." Maxwell sat up, but he didn't take the envelope. It wasn't very surprising that Wilson had found him, seeing as Maxwell hadn't felt like covering much ground in the darkness and he had set a small campfire relatively close to Wilson's base, but his presence was puzzling in itself. He eyed the other man quizzically. "The decision I made last night was... a bit rushed. I shouldn't have kicked you out like that, out of the blue. In the middle of the night, of all times. Especially since we haven't secured any touchstones or amulets since-" "I can't believe it. You actually came here to apologize." Maxwell groaned in dismay, covering his face with his hands. "And here I thought you had finally grown a pair." "Would you mind not being an absolute tool for one minute and letting me talk?" "Yes, I would. This is pitiful. You're pitiful. Can't you even hold a grudge for a whole night before giving in to whatever misguided sense of guilt led you here to bribe me back to the camp? With..." He picked up the envelope and peered into it. "Honey nuggets, apparently. How charming." "Shut up. I'm not here to apologize. I've had every reason to want to get rid of you since we met, and I still do." Wilson glared at him, wringing his hands in irritation. "But not like that. In my defense, I can say that I've been a bit stressed lately, and... maybe I wasn't exactly in my right mind yesterday." "Are you ever?" "Maxwell, shut up." Maxwell condescendingly bit a nugget. "It's- it's just that... ugh!" Wilson suddenly threw his hands to the sky and ruffled his own hair in frustration. "It makes literally no sense for us to even discuss this! Surviving together is the best option, it's undeniable! As a pair, we consume less resources, we forage more efficiently, we can defend ourselves better against any attacks, we rest more and more safely. Parting ways would give us no advantage whatsoever. Yet, somehow you make it seem like the most preferable option." He stopped, waiting for Maxwell's reply, but he kept casually nibbling at his meal. After a moment, Wilson continued. "So. Since it is clearly the most rational choice, I'm here to tell you to come back to the camp. Does this qualify as apologizing? No, because as far as I'm concerned, you'd deserve to be slain by your own hounds a hundred times over for everything you've put me through since you first spoke to me. Does that mean you can waltz back in your tent and keep treating me like a doormat all day? Also no, because I'm tired of you pretending that my help is irrelevant. You can't possibly be that stupid, and you have no regard for other people's life. If you were convinced you could easily survive on your own, you'd have left a long time ago. Probably after killing me and stealing my stuff." "My, someone's cranky today." Maxwell had finished his breakfast and had summoned his usual shadow cigar. Wilson eyed it with mild disgust, probably remembering the previous night, and Maxwell at least had the decency to blow the smoke well away from his face. He scratched his chin and considered Wilson's word for a minute. "...You do have a point about the benefits of working together. I guess I may have not been on my best behavior lately, but that can be easily remedied. Any more ground rules I should be aware of, sir?" "Yes. No more..." Wilson gestured awkwardly between them, pointing at his eyes, then at Maxwell's, then at his own again. It took Maxwell some considerable guesswork to understand that he was referring to the 'inappropriate' glances. "...That. No more of that. How could you even- do you have no shame at all?" "Oh, please. I still find ridiculous that this is what got you so worked up, on top of everything." "Really? I find ridiculous that you could be so casual about it. I'm sure most people would have had a much less diplomatic reaction than mine to such an appalling behavior."

"Yes, yes, the civilized world is fairly opinionated about such trivial matters, is it not? Good thing we're farther than humanly conceivable from civilization." Maxwell flashed a grin to the other man, who only hunched his back a little more and looked at the charred cinders even more dejectedly. Maxwell couldn't help but grow a bit more somber too. "...Does it really bother you that much?" "I- It's not..." Wilson shook his head. "Not really. Not as a matter of principle, at least. It's not really any of my business. It does bother me, however, if it means I'm constantly scrutinized like some- some tasty morsel, for heaven's sake!" It took all the restraint Maxwell could muster not to make a joke about that vivid choice of words. Meanwhile, Wilson's arms were again flailing about madly, as it was his habit when he grew invested in an argument. "Which I'm actually used to! Every single creature in this hellish place is always looking at me like it wants to devour me! Or slaughter me for fun. Except Chester. So I could deal with that, but no! Turns out you're even more depraved than the worst nightmarish-" "All right, all right, I get it, no more peeping!" Maxwell stopped Wilson's rant when he nearly got poked in the eye by a flying finger. He took one last drag from the cigar before letting it vanish in the faint breeze. "This wretched world offers so few pleasures and respites from the grating task of existence that I didn't even think it would be a problem if I let myself enjoy such a trifling one. But if this offends your pristine sense of decorum so deeply, I'll pass on it. Are you satisfied?" Wilson looked at Maxwell at length, apparently considering his words very seriously. Then he spoke slowly, as if unravelling a fundamental truth born from the deepest reaches of his mind. "You have the uncanny ability to sound always, unrepentantly offensive, no matter what you are actually saying." "I try my best." "Is that why your nose looks like it's been smashed a dozen times?" "Really? You are insulting my features now?" Maxwell scoffed, genuinely disappointed. "Are you willing to stoop that low?" "You said it. There are only so many ways one can entertain himself here." The sunrays had grown fierce, and it seemed it was going to be another torrid summer day. Wilson stood up and stretched with a pained groan. Maxwell wondered how long he'd been sitting at his campfire before he woke up. "Let's go. There's a lot of work to do."

Despite Wilson's poor expectations, there was a noticeable change in Maxwell's behavior. It was less of an actual improvement and more of an ongoing state of haughty sulking, but the complete disappearance of his usual jabs and unhelpful sarcasm on just about anything was honestly a breath of fresh air. Even though they often spent most of their days separately, with Wilson foraging and exploring and Maxwell crafting and cooking in the base, his malicious comments at the end of a hard day's work were more grating than Wilson cared to admit. Since their argument, however, communication between them had turned into a mere exchange of only the strictly necessary information applying the minimum amount of words possible, and Wilson didn't have a single problem with that. A true loner at heart, he'd much rather bask in a quiet atmosphere of mild hostility than constantly having to deflect open and pointless mockery. Maxwell had been surprisingly compliant about Wilson's request for privacy too. He had taken to retire in his tent as soon as Wilson fetched the buckets, or he busied himself with some other activity behind a conveniently placed chest or machine that hid them from each other's view. A small part of Wilson's mind kept reminding him that not seeing Maxwell didn't necessarily imply not being seen by Maxwell, but he'd just have to live with that. In truth, the most shocking aspect of the recent revelation about Maxwell's inclinations had been the man's sheer nerve. Wilson may not harbor any particular disgust or bias towards the likes of Maxwell, but the memory of his obscene display of interest and his blatant disregard of basic social decency still sparked a burning rage in his gut. There was only so much that decades of isolation could excuse, and Wilson was fairly sure that this wasn't part of it. Still, Maxwell's behavior had remained irreproachable since then, if noticeably distant. Since Wilson had been freed from the throne, the Constant had been remarkably peaceful as well. He had met Maxwell in a world of perennial summer with few hostile creatures and relatively rich lands, an unexpected and welcome change from the horrifying regions he had had to cross to reach the King. Days passed with uncharacteristic ease and an almost reassuring sense of routine, allowing them to gather their energies and resources as they looked for the next portal. Then, one day, the hounds reappeared. Wilson's pickaxe froze in midair as he was about to strike a promising gold vein, and the familiar weight of dread sank in his chest. He had hoped. Foolish as it may be, he had genuinely hoped the peace would last. The mysterious woman who had freed him from the throne was... well, she had seemed at least conflicted about her actions. She had seemed friendly, even cheerful at first... until she had electrocuted him for literally no reason, and that was definitely not reassuring, but Wilson had hoped it was just some blind (and probably deserved) vengeance towards whoever sat on the throne. He had truly hoped she could turn out a more merciful ruler than Maxwell, but a new hound incursion wasn't exactly a benevolent sign. The growls of the foul beasts echoed all around, still distant but unmistakable. He quickly gathered the scattered materials and hurried back towards the base, heart pounding with the increasing volume of the howls. By the time he got to the camp, Maxwell had already donned his armor and sword, and he was placing a bunch of tooth traps outside the wooden fence, flanked by two shadow duelists. He pointed a safe path to Wilson when he saw him. "Go that way. There's new armor and weapons in the bigger chest." Wilson nodded and run past him. In a couple of minutes they were both ready, fully armed, standing in the middle of the camp near the lit firepit. Wilson hated fighting in the base, as usually most of their equipment was damaged by the scuffle, but the sky was already red, and night would likely fall before they managed to defeat the pack. The wait was tense, as always. The guttural roars grew and grew, surrounding them from every direction, causing Wilson to turn over and over again, always expecting the first hound to appear right behind his back. Trenches and palisades were of little use; the beasts always seemed to spawn from darkness itself, regardless of terrain or physical barriers. He almost jumped when a hand grabbed his shoulder, in a way that felt all but reassuring. "Steady, Higgsbury. You've survived them plenty of times before." "Yes, when you were the one sending them after-" "Save that for later." The first trap snapped loudly, followed by a pained howl. Then the horde came. In few seconds the camp was a flurry of movement and noise, where black, fanged creatures rushed in one after another. Wilson fought almost without thinking, striking and dodging with learnt timing and experience, luring two or three hounds in a favorable spot before attacking them one by one. He caught a glimpse of the duelists holding their ground with equal skill, while Maxwell remained at the edge of the camp, somehow managing not to engage in direct fight, but readily finishing the wounded hounds that were trying to escape. It was a strange, long attack, Wilson noticed. The corpses of the hounds kept piling up on the ground, and Wilson couldn't help but think that if they had all attacked together in a single swarm, they could have easily overpowered both Maxwell and him. Instead, the beasts kept trickling in the camp slowly, as if someone was releasing them gradually. It was completely dark by the time the last wounded beast tried to run from Wilson's lance. He didn't even need to chase it as it limped slowly towards the darkness, until it fell heavily on the ground just at the edge of the circle of light granted by the firepit, wheezing loudly and pitifully. Maxwell approached it too, and they both stood before the agonizing beast for a moment. Under the dim light and the two men's wavering shadows, it almost looked like a normal boar, one of the many Wilson had seen his father hunt in his youth. He had never been quite fond of the sport. Maxwell knelt down, his free hand reaching out towards the animal. As soon as he did, the hound reared its ugly head with a roar and snapped at him, still trying to bite and shred and maul and kill even as it was bleeding to death. "How quickly they forget..." Maxwell sounded almost wistful, a somewhat unfitting note in his voice. It made some sort of perverted sense that the one thing capable of inspiring sympathy in him would be a creature just as ferocious and devious as its creator. "Do you think they could be domesticated?" "No." He stood up as one of the duelists moved forward. Its blade rose in the air and swiftly fell down with a sharp hiss. The whimpering immediately stopped. "I made sure of that." Wilson thought of himself as of a merciful man, but he did not feel pity for the creature's destiny. The hounds were no normal animals, they had no sense of self-preservation whatsoever. They either died or kept attacking, over and over again, retreating into the shadows only to reappear from a different spot few seconds later, ready to strike anew. They were self-destructing weapons through and through, and he had had to learn to treat them as such. "I think we can wait until tomorrow to collect their meat. We're going to be up all night if we start now." "Indeed. The camp also needs to be-" Maxwell stopped and looked around. "What is that?" A faint melody echoed in the air, seemingly from all directions. It was a simple, sweet tune, produced by pins or bells tingling in harmony. It reminded Wilson of a small music box he once gifted to one of his nieces. "The fire!" Maxwell suddenly shouted, pointing at the camp. Clearly visible despite the distance, a slithering claw of shadows was snaking towards the pit, black as ink and disturbingly real. They sprang towards it, but it was too late. Its fingers wrapped around the embers and squashed them in a puff of smoke, the whole area sinking in complete darkness. Almost immediately, Wilson tripped on something invisible, falling sideways and knocking down Maxwell in the process. "Goddammit! Do you have a torch?" "Yes, give me a-" A far too familiar sound rumbled around them. The Grue attacked even more quickly than usual, and Wilson could hear the telltale swoosh of Maxwell's puppets vanishing into nothingness. He cursed, rummaging desperately under his armor. He got the torch, but he couldn't find the flint to ignite it. He sensed Maxwell raising to his feet beside him. "Where are you going?" He hissed. "The torch! Hurry!" It was the only reply he got. Wilson's hand finally stumbled into a piece of flint, but he couldn't do much with just one. He kept searching as his heart drummed frantically in his chest, counting the seconds before the next attack, the one that would likely cost them their lives. "Cheap trick!" He heard Maxwell declare, for no discernible reason at all. If trying to communicate with the Grue was foolish, provoking it was positively suicidal. "Way beneath you, if I may speak freely." The darkness hummed and whispered threateningly as Wilson found the second flint. He muttered to himself feverishly as he stroke them together, blindly trying to direct the sparks to the tip of the torch. "Charlie...?" He almost didn't hear it. Maxwell's voice was completely different, his challenging bravado vanished in less than a second and replaced by some sort of stunned awe. Right then, the torch finally lit. Wilson had never seen the Grue. On multiple occasions, he had managed to light torches or firepits in the very nick on time, when he was almost sure the creature was literally within arm's reach and ready to strike. Yet, no matter how close he perceived it, when light appeared, it was gone without a trace. He had never caught even a glimpse of a limb, or the trace of a swift movement in the corner of his eye. It seemed to instantly stop existing as soon as it could be seen. This time, Wilson saw something. For a split second, the light revealed a thin, tall, dark silhouette, all sharp angles and pointy appendages. It had no features, no details, no depth. It looked like the drawing of a child on a piece of paper, some sort of bidimensional, disturbing scarecrow made entirely of black ink. In his enormous claw, it held Maxwell's chin, a look of sheer bewilderment etched on the man's features. Then Wilson blinked, and it was gone. He heard a sharp slash, and Maxwell let out a short scream, bringing a hand to his face. "Maxwell!" Wilson scrambled to his feet and approached him. There was blood trickling down his face, tainting the collar of his immaculate shirt with red stains. "Are you all right?" "Yes." Maxwell glanced around nervously. WIlson tried to get a good look at the wound, but Maxwell waved him away, still keeping his hand pressed against it. He seemed more preoccupied with staring at random points in the darkness, looking more disturbed than Wilson had ever seen him. "Did it attack you after I got the light out? Can it do that?" "Oh, that wasn't an attack." Maxwell finally removed his hand, and Wilson could see three long gashes, unnaturaly vertical and parallel, running straight from his temple to his jaw. His eye was undamaged, fortunately. Maxwell stared thoughtfully at his own hand, shrouded by shadows and turned into a claw that was not too dissimilar from the Grue's. The blood glinted eerily on the blackened palm. "She was just saying hello." It took Wilson a moment to process that. "...She?" Maxwell surveyed the area one last time. All was still and silent. "We should sleep. There won't be any more surprises for tonight." Wilson couldn't get another word out of him.

"I shouldn't be doing this." Maxwell muttered, dragging his feet behind Wilson and glaring at each and every surrounding tree as if it had personally offended him. "I'm wounded." "Don't be dramatic. You barely needed any stitches." "Which, by the way, were the most painful experience I've had since I got here. I thought you were supposed to be a doctor." "I am, but I stopped practicing pretty soon after I finished my studies. I was more interested in pursuing my own research." Wilson spotted a group of tall, sturdy-looking pines that would likely yield perfect boards. He walked up to them, gesturing to Maxwell to follow him. "Although I've had plenty of experience with self-medication in the last two years. Did you choose to kidnap me because you knew I had the necessary skills to survive?" "Don't flatter yourself too much. I chose you because you were gullible enough to believe me. End of the story." "Of course you did." Wilson examined the trees carefully, checking the bark for holes, fungi or insects. Several chests and machines had been damaged during the hound incursion of the previous night, and Wilson wasn't going to sleep soundly until all of his equipment was back in top shape. "I think five or six of these should give us enough materials for the repairs. Three trees each, all right?" "You're going to finish much earlier than me. In fact, you probably don't need me at all here." "I helped you clean and store the meat-"

"Which I didn't ask-"

"-because it was already half spoilt and you would have taken too long on your own, so it's only fair that you help me with the wood. And you said you weren't going to summon any puppets today, so..." "I'm running short on fuel and I'd rather save it for emergencies until I can find some more." "Really? And here I thought that your sense of humor was the only inexhaustible source of nightmare fuel in the whole Constant." "Speaking of which, please leave the scathing jabs to me. That was appalling." They started hacking away. Despite Wilson's initial despondency towards the ungodly amount of manual labor required to survive in the Constant, he had slowly grown to like the calm and repetitiveness of most manual tasks. When he wasn't too hard-pressed by severe lack of food or basic resources, he had found that foraging from an ordered field of berry bushes, turning a twisted, dying tree into a neat pile of perfectly serviceable logs, or sewing together a simple but efficient trap could often soothe his nerves better than a few roasted mushroom. It certainly beated ripping legs off spiders or fending off herds of horny beefalos. On the other hand, Maxwell seemed to nurture a strong distaste for any activity that required him to leave the camp. Wilson couldn't really blame him for that: it was obvious that his age and his relatively frail constitution didn't play to his advantage, even though Maxwell wasn't likely to ever admit it. In truth, Wilson didn't mind their current division of labor: Maxwell had proved to be a surprisingly apt artisan, especially in regards to small objects like traps or compasses. Wilson had found himself staring at the other man crafting this or that piece equipment more than once, admiring how nimble and precise his fingers were, very suited to precision work. He was a better cook than Wilson too, although that wasn't saying much: the scientist approached most of his culinary endeavors like his science, via methodic trials and errors spurred mostly by pure curiosity that often resulted in barely palatable wet goops. It turned out it took Maxwell exactly twice as much time as Wilson to fell a tree, his first victim hitting the ground just as Wilson started peeling the branches from his second. He could tell by the exaggerated movements Maxwell was making to swing the axe that he was going to get a mean backache by the end of the task. He innerly debated on whether he should offer his advice on the matter. The debate ended fairly quickly and unanimously. "I was wondering." Wilson addressed Maxwell casually as he was binding some sticks together in a fagot. "What happened exactly with the Grue last night?" Maxwell stopped, glaring at the scientist and resting his weight on the axe for a moment as he caught his breath. Wilson pressed on. "It didn't attack you, even though it took me a while to get the torch. Had I been alone, I'd have been slaughtered in all that time. Not to mention that you addressed it as a 'she' and-" "Oh excuse me, if I had known we got here to picnic and chat, I'd have brought a few sandwiches. Who knows what gave me the idea that we had work to do." Wilson groaned. "Come on, Maxwell. There's no need for you to hide anything, we're on the same boat. If anything, I should be the one worrying about whether or not I can trust you. And you aren't exactly making me less paranoid by skirting around the subject." "I don't see how that's my problem." Maxwell straightened up and lifted his axe again. "Do you want to get this wood before dusk or what?" Wilson sighed and decided to abandon the subject for the time being. They raised their axes and hit a new tree at the same time, the sharp snaps of metal on wood echoing around with perfect synchrony. Then they froze, as a thunderous roar resounded far too close for comfort. Horrified, they both looked towards the source of the noise. Above the greenery, they could spot one specific treetop wobbling slightly, while slow, rhythmic thumps made the ground shake beneath their feet. "...Oh no." Wilson looked at Maxwell, who was standing stock still and slack-jawed with his axe still raised. "Are you kidding me?" He burst out, gesticulating towards the humongous creature, the very personification of affronted bewilderment. "I leave the camp for one day and this happens? What in the everloving hell is this wrong with this goddamn-" "Do you have any pinecones?" Wilson stopped listening after the third swear, deeming Maxwell's questions mostly rhetorical. He frantically surveyed the area trying to spot the precious items, but he couldn't see any. "No! I've barely done anything-" Another bellow boomed in the air, slightly louder than the previous one. The treetop was getting dangerously close, so they did the only sensible thing they could do: they started running. They got outside the forest fairly quickly. From the clearing between the woods and the camp, they could see the Treeguard slowly making its way among the foliage, somehow leaving no damaged plants in its wake. "Thank God they're so slow." "You're welcome. You know, I think it's angry with you, specifically." Maxwell declared, suddenly calmer. "You can't possibly know that." "I certainly can, I made them." They exchanged a glance, and bolted in opposite directions. Once they had put some distance between them, they stopped and checked on their sluggish foe. After a moment, the guardian veered clearly towards Wilson's position. "Oh, come on!" Wilson's disappointed exclamation was met by a triumphant "Ha!" coming from the opposite side of the clearing. He glared at Maxwell, who immediately dashed towards the base. Unhelpful bastard. Wilson did the same, but Maxwell yelled at him. "Wait! Don't lead it here, you idiot! It'll destroy everything!" "I have no pinecones! I need the ones in the chest!" "I'll have a puppet bring them to you. I don't want to be anywhere near that thing." "What do I do in the meantime?" "I don't know! Outrun it! It isn't exactly fast." Wilson almost slapped his own face out of sheer frustration. Great, just great. Just the kind of afternoon he needed to recover from the stress of the attack, one spent shouting like an idiot to another idiot from the opposite side of a field and playing tag with a huge, angry, screaming tree. He spent the following five minutes jogging around like a complete fool without letting the Treeguard get too close, until finally Maxwell's puppet arrived, delivering a grand total of three pinecones and a shovel. "That's it? Is that all we've got?" He asked in dismay. The puppet shrugged, then pointed to the forest and made a wide gesture that Wilson interpreted as an explosion. Aaah, right, the forest. The latest heatwave had caused a fire, and they had had to regrow the whole forest from scratch. They had kept only three pinecones in case of emergency, which Wilson supposed was exactly the present case. The puppet gave him a thumbs up and scampered away. It was always surprising how much more sociable and cooperative Maxwell's shadows were compared to the original, especially considering their limited expressivity. Wilson actually missed their company when they didn't help with the foraging. All right, three attempts then. And within a reasonably short time, given that the sun was already descending below the horizon. Of course these things had to happen always at dusk. He quickly dug a tiny hole and got ready to place the pinecone in it as soon as he was within the monster's sight. The first attempt was a failure. Of course the first attempt had to be a failure, God forbid luck might favor him in time of need, for once. He resolved to let the Treeguard approach him a bit more before trying again. The second attempt was another miss. Of course the second attempt couldn't just work that easily, that would deny him the thrill of the last chance, the primal dread of being this close to impending, unavoidable doom, something that the forces inhabiting the Constant seemed keen on providing over and over again. Remaining cool and collected despite the tension and the frustration was absolutely imperative in such circumstances. "Come on, you short-sighted stump!" Wilson raged, stomping his foot and waving around the last remaining pinecone. "Do I have to sow a whole forest to make you happy?" The Treeguard didn't react in any noticeable way, other than continuing the slowest pursuit in the hystory of vaguely threatening strolls. Wilson scratched his head and cursed. It was almost dark, and he only had one pinecone. He really didn't feel like running around the whole night like a headless chicken hoping to accidentally trip on another pinecone, so he'd have to make the last one count. That meant getting very close, literally in the creature's piney face, and hope for the best. While the Treeguard approached him, he dug several holes to his left and right, ready to welcome the precious cluster of seeds, then he waited. He waited as the huge pine got close, very close, unadvisably close, definitely way too close. He stood in place when the horrendous creature bellowed from above and swung a giant branch at him. He sprang to the side and dodged it, barely. It crashed to the ground with an unimaginable rumble, but Wilson paid it no mind. The tree roared again, Maxwell was shouting too from somewhere not too far, but Wilson's attention was fully focussed on the closest hole. He crawled to it as the Treeguard slowly lifted his arm, he dropped the pinecone on the ground and swiftly covered it with a small mound of soil. "See? Done! I've-" He barely had time to raise his head, and all he could see was a huge flurry of greenery filling his entire field of view. The tremendous impact knocked him out instantly.

[zebraslovescupcakestoo]

A Brother’s Promise

It was mid September when they decided to throw an unexpected surprise party at the Disney company. Oswald himself was told by his charismatic little brother, Mickey, to help them set up. It didn't bothered him too much since he's going to be making most of the snacks like seafood and other buffet variety stuff. As long as it was healthy and that he had help.

Except that Mickey never gave his answer about what is it about and he just said 'It's a surprise!' and he has to wait along with the other staffs at their father's company.

No matter what people say about their father, Mickey and Oswald where actually well respected. They were actually the ones who made their family's name much better than their old man himself. They don't believed of getting their high positioned jobs through 'please, daddy' and they have it with a beautiful red bow. No no no! They even insisted that they worked FOR it and earned their keeps to achieved it.

Mickey was their best animator at the company aside from Ubbe Eert Iwerks. Unlike most cliche boss’s kid attitude they all thought he would have, he was very optimistic, hard working, colorful and very kind person. He was just like his cartoon counter part and Disney's iconic mascot. Everyone who worked with him were always happy.

Oswald was his older brother and the head mechanic of the new Disneyland maintenance team. It was a quite a surprise for them when he was an inventor of a sort and even more when they learned that he was a five times champion from Chinese boxing tournaments. Not even his size was estimated by bigger guys you could meet at the night bars. He was similar to his brother's optimistic mind but more realistic. He was mature, calm, smooth and can sometimes be intimidating if he catches someone being disrespectful to his brother or to another person. (Or if one of his staffs being lazy without putting a descent amount of work first too.) Nevertheless, he was very well respected and liked.

Both were at the presence once the big night have arrived. The party was inside their studio due to a thunder/rain storm and the room was like one of those school prom but with their animator's team, the maintenance’s team, even their janitors and their three, old maids from their 'old' home that took care of them since they were little aside their mother when she used to work as the secretary.  

Oswald was just standing alone, leaning at a naked wall that wasn't covered with a curtain or piled up with chairs. He was wearing his favorite blue vest with a dragon on, along with a white rolled up sleeves, black gloves, black dress pants and knee high boots. He didn't do much with his twin tailed hair aside he groomed it very well. He was observing everyone and just listened whenever he heard something interesting. He also had a punch cup in one of his hand.

He always was shown as a 'second' best compared to his popular brother, but he knows better that it wasn't his brother's fault that he has that certain charm and that his brother will always there for him. Even at his worst one time...

He then noticed that his brother was emerging from the crowd as he was attempting to leave them for a moment. He was wearing his signature rep carpet night outfit. He had his black suit with his matching red bow tie, white shirt, yellow gloves, red dress pants and his best pair of black dressed shoes. He finally arrived with a big plate full of a variety of delicacies that he made most of them that was enough for two.

“I figured you wanted something to eat. I haven't seen you at the buffet earlier.” Mickey started their conversation. “I was just thirsty at the time.” Oswald stated, but he did took some vegetables off his plate. “You looked good tonight.” He complemented his little brother. Mickey flustered at this sudden unexpected praise. “Oh! Er, Thank you! You look handsomer- er, I mean, more handsome! Like, you look great too!” He fumbled his words as Oswald chuckled a bit at his brother's little goofy moment. “Ha ha, thank you.”

They took a couple of minutes of silence to watch over among their workers as they all socialized as they much on. Oswald then broke off their silence. “It's still amazing that even with what's been going on in the world, I'm glad that there's some good times like these.” Mickey tried to think of another subject. “Say, how's that new role with that martial arts movie they've been working on?”

“Where have you heard that?” Oswald raised an eyebrow. Did his little brother still kept an eye out for him, even with his busy schedule? “You know I've been keeping up with what's going on with the movie sets, you can't hide it from me. I know you'll be great with that leading role of martial art vigilante.” Mickey smirked with a wink. He knew that his big brother will be well suited for this role and a great opportunity for him to stand out from their shadows. “I know you deserve it.”

“I doubt it would be successful. It's been a while since the industry made those kinds of Chinese influenced films and most were barely recognizable here in the states.” Oswald stated. “Don't think like that! I saw that part of the shoot and I think it would look great on the big screen once it's done! I bet that more people will love to see it once they noticed your awe inspiring fighting techniques!” Mickey tried to cheer him up. “Or maybe IF it flunked like you'd said, you can always try for a cooking show special.”

“You already beat me at that.” He said. “Just a dessert special, but you can still make a pretty good Eastern meals like the ones you've made tonight. They're very delicious just like mom used to make-!” Mickey then realized that he brought up a bit of a touchy subject. It wasn't offensive, it just that she passed away almost a decade ago. They both loved their mother and they reminisces of how they used to be as a real family. “I.. know she would have been very proud of your cooking skills if she was still with us today.” Mickey said what he think their late mother would have said to his older brother. “True, but I think she would have said your desserts were the best tonight first.” Oswald tried to be more realistic. “Not exactly! Mom was-*Sniff sniff* Do you smell something amazingly familiar?” Mickey asked and then he too took a sniff. They then both took a good silent whiff until they realized what it is. They then turn on each other with sparking stars in their eyes and spoke with a smile. “Chocolate!” They said in union.

No matter how much of a heath conscious, young men they were, they both love chocolate sweets, especially Mickey.

They noticed that they've just put a chocolate fountain along with a variety of fresh cut fruits. If Mickey did knew about it, Oswald would have noticed it sooner. “I'm going to get a bunch! I've saved my sweet tooth for this!” He then rushes to it. Guess that leaves the rabbit in charge of their drinks.

It didn't take him long for him to get milk, but he can't say the same thing about his little brother. Getting their fruits and chocolates were easy, it's the crowd that's keeping him 'captive.' Oswald was thankful that he didn't have to deal with that kind of attention. He would have laugh it off for all the times he wished he was more popular, now he was just thankful for having his little 'privacy' time.

It may took a few minutes, but Mickey finally made it. He was a bit short of breath. “So sorry... They... wouldn't... stop asking... for everything.” “Here, let's take a seat before you drop and create more attention for yourself.” He said and suggested to their seats behind him. They immediately started to clean up their plate and chocolate dip. Occasionally, there was someone who came up to Mickey for a small talk and that leaves Oswald for more samples that he took advantage, but he did leave some for Mickey and the last one. He finished it off and then admittedly said. “Sometimes, I envy your personal time alone.”

He was surprised at that. “I wouldn't say that. You have what most people want to be these days in this movie or animated industries.” Mickey wanted to corrected that confusion. “I'm not saying that I don't like it, it's just... I get a little overwhelmed sometimes and... I get a little tired sometimes too.” He then rested his head on his shoulder to emphasis it. Oswald may not know all what's going on with Mickey's celebrity life style, but he can see behind that mask he puts up in front of everyone that he gets tired, in more meanings than that.

He then noticed their father, Walt Disney, and one of their top animators, Ubbe Eert Iwerks, entered and they made quite a commotion. He also saw Ubbe holding a large envelope which he's guessing it might contain some sketches for either a cartoon or a new park ride. He bets it's for a cartoon cause if it WAS for a new park ride, he would know it way before anybody! He nudged his shoulder to wake him up. “Hey, dad's here.” Mickey grunted a bit and snapped his eyes opened once he realized it. “Ah! Finally! Quick Ozzy! We need you to be there before he announces the big surprise.” Oswald was confused but before he said anything else, Mickey quickly grabbed his wrist and dragged him to their father's side.

Oswald was curious of why he was needed when it was just a cartoon promotions. It was usually his brother's spotlight moments for those occasions. He did have those kinds of spotlights too for a new attraction or mechanics ideas. Why the sudden switch?

He was then placed on his father's left side and everybody looked at them. Walt then spoke. “I would like to start by saying thank you for everybody that has made it tonight's celebration of the return of a once beloved character.”

Oswald raised an eye brow. Surely it wasn't supposed to be Mickey in his spot? He looked at his little brother and he was just pumped up with excitement with little hops. Seemingly that it's a surprise that involves him and he had something to do with it.

His father continued as he was doing that. “Years ago, back when Ub and myself used to work for the Universe Studio animations, we've created a cartoon character for the company that we used to think that it will become one of the most beloved character for children of all ages. Along with other animators, we've made about twenty-six shorts before... an dispute for a proposal. Despite that it was our creation, under their contract and agreement, we had to leave that character behind. That character is also named Oswald that my late wife and myself gave to our first son.” He then placed a hand on Oswald's shoulder. He was surprised just as much as almost everybody else in the room.

He knew that he had a vague memory on the cartoons he used to watch that had a similar name and that he knew that his little brother was named after their company mascot, but he would NEVER imagine that he was too, named after another character his father created even BEFORE he founded the company.

“After many years, Ub and I wanted to bring back that lucky rabbit back to the animated family.” His father replied and then it was Ube's turn. “We did many times to negotiate a few, but ended with no results until Mickey came for one more try.” Then everybody turned to Mickey as he just waved a bit. “To be honest, I don't really exactly know what he did to convinced them, but somehow he manage to have them hand over the rights of the character. Now that it's official, Oswald the Lucky Rabbit is now welcomed in the Disney Animation Studios. We might say that he's like the older brother like ours is.” Ube lightly complimented him as he opened up the envelope and showed the rabbit character that was singed by Walt and Mickey themselves.

Then everybody was in cheers and clapping gleefully. Oswald was blushing but feel extremely happy on the inside and smiled a little. He then got surprised as his little brother picks him up with his usual bro hug with a big grind on his face. Which on the side note, he's ridiculously strong despite his size. “Eeeeeee! I'm so proud of you! Now we both have characters as true brothers!”

“Yeah... Thanks... can't... breathe... Mickey.” Oswald spoke while trying to catch some fresh air from his little brother's binding hugging arms.

Then suddenly the joy was interrupted with a loud thunder clapping and a door burst opened. Everybody looked at the direction of their front exit door as Mickey then puts Oswald down gently.

There were two individuals. One that was a bit higher and bigger than the average person and the other one was about the same height and size as Mickey. But this isn't just random people they don't know. It's actually the people they knew very well from their debut as the CEO's of Joey Drew Studio the Third.

Bendy DeMon and Boris Wolfenstein. Bendy had the signature white tuxedo with a black floof from his red carpet debut while Boris had on his overly large fur coat with his black fedora and matching tuxedo suit holding the umbrella.

Everybody was in shock as they came in to 'greet' them. They all whispered among themselves. Some were nervous, others were a bit bitter from the fact that they knew him a bit too well when they used to work under them.

“Why... It's Bendy DeMon.” “The newest chairman of that notorious Joey Drew Studios?” “Did the Disneys invited them?” “No, I don't think so.” “What does he want here?” “I preferred the thunderstorm's company over them.” “Shh! They'll hear you!”

Despite all the whispers they 'might' have heard, both of them weren't fazed at all. They then reached to Ube, Walt, Oswald and Mickey.

Bendy spoke. “Well, quite a glittering assemblage, dear Waltz. The animators, the mechanics, the janitors, the maids and...” He then sees the brothers and chuckles “How quaint. Even the rabbles.” Mickey tries to protest, but Oswald holds him back.

It was no secret that both Mickey and Bendy had a sour history between them and behind the curtains. Nobody knew how it all started and barely knew how it ended. The only things for sure is that Mickey doesn't like the way Bendy treated his animators poorly, despite how well they were paid and how he acted like a stereotypical, celebrity jerk with a big ego.

Bendy despise Mickey due to the fact that he was the complete opposite of him and that he was just like his animated counterpart. They think that the reason is that he was probably just jealous of his humble reputation and he was a well respected individual.

Nevertheless, they both have a rocky relationship and that they both once agreed to keep it 'just between themselves.'

Bendy kept his classy demeanor in the presence of his 'enemy's territory.' “I was surprised to noticed you we're all having a humble peasant party. I really felt quite distressed at not receiving an invitation.” He responded as he took out a cigarette and fumbled in his pocket for a lighter.

“You weren't wanted and this is a no smoking zone. Do it outside if you had to!” One of their animator's spoke up against him. “Not wan-!” He was surprised and dropped his cigarette from his mouth. Everybody turned to the guy who had protested. “Tony! What are you doing? You're going to get in trouble!” His friend who was next to him said.

Under 'normal' circumstances, Bendy and Boris would have made... arrangements for mouthing them off. But since this isn't their territory, they can't do it, but they can 'intimidate' and provoke.

Bendy took a shot. “Tony? As in Tony Teebits? That lousy, wannabe animator who proposed to me months ago with a new cat character? And then he was fired with a farewell gift of a half a box of raisin muffins? HA ha ha! Don't tell me Nickel Mousey and his pops hired you here.” He mocked him off.

But the guy surprised him with agreement. “Yes they did! And their treatments were much better than your pays!” That made him grumbled and showed his gritting teeth. Bendy then mumbled. “You better pray that we don't found out where you live, tick flea!” He then cleared his throat, turns around to the Disney family and resumed his classy speech. “Oh dear, what an awkward situation! I've noticed it from someone and stopped here out of curiosity. What kind of children party is it?” He asked teasingly to Walt.

“It's a celebration of the return of Oswald the lucky rabbit character. I'm sure you've met my elder son before, right?”

“You mean Oddball the forgettable rabbit? Hardly knew him.” He disses him and that angers Mickey as he was holding in.

“Maybe this will help you jog a memory. The design is still a bit out dated, but I think it will suit him well once we start a new animated shorts.” Ube showed him the rabbit character and he was overly exaggerated with his disgusted expression. “Ugh! Oh, I wouldn't ask the devil himself to take him! Too old school and no appeal. What a horrid, corny, rabbit rip-off!”

Mickey then defended at that point. “You shouldn't judge a character base on their looks! Give him a chance in the spotlight!” Walt then jumped in for a calmer conversation. “Mickey has a point. We're doing a storyboard of the first few episodes. He'll be like a co-star character like Donald Duck or Goofy and we're also planning on making a few merchandise along the way.” Oswald then pulls his brother away as Mickey still giving him the angry stare.

“You mean you haven't made this 'publicly' yet?” Bendy asked out of curiosity. Everybody raised an uneasy suspicion. What does he mean? Ube then told him. “Not quite. We've just reveal our reclaim and that we'll announce it in public in a few days.”

He then maliciously smiled and took out a check book. “If it's not made in 'public' yet, I'll buy it from you right now. Just name your price, old chap!” He then set it on the table that was a free space of the varieties of desserts.

Everybody was in shock. But then Mickey marched up to him and said. “Bendy! You can't just buy him off! We worked really hard to have him back and I can't just hand him off over a check!” Oswald followed him up afterwards for protection. He knew that Mickey and Bendy were popular in their 'public image,' but there's another side of them that might get ugly.

Bendy tsked at him. “You think I was talking to you? You're just a measly animator under daddy's work. I'm talking to the REAL boss here!” He shows no sing of respect to him as he took out his pen. “Hey Walt! How much for that rabbit?”

“I'm afraid you've asked the wrong person. In actuality, Mickey was the one who have the rights of Oswald and in any future events that something happens to me, so will his animated character.” Walt explained.

Bendy was shocked. “What? You're telling me that his guy is going to be in charge one day AND who I'm supposed to be 'nice' with?” Boris the calms him down. “He does have a point.” He just tsked at Boris and then spoke to the crowd. “Don't make me laugh again. He only worked 'officially' for three years and you all treat him like he was some sort of an idol of a cult.”

Ube tried to reassure him. “He might be young but he is just as responsible as a successful animator.” Everybody was agreeing with him. Except for the two uninvited guests.

Bendy then had another idea. For an insult. “That I agreed. Once this place is bankrupted, he'll be selling his kindergarten pictures for fifty cents each, while his 'big bro' will be recycling old cardboard boxes for their new houses. AH hahahahaha!” He mockingly laugh it off while Mickey and Oswald frowned at that and crossed their arms.

They were used to Bendy's mockery of their art and mechanic skill receptively, but they still weren't impressed of his idea against their humility and compassion to the people around them.

He then proceeds to write in his check book after he cleared his throat. “Now really, enough of this childish games, Mousey. I'll pay you twice of what it's worth.” He started to write a bit. “Come now! I'm really being more than 'generous' here for an 'old friend.'” He then realized that there was no ink coming out of his signature pen. He then shook it violently as he said. “Blast this custom made pen. Blast-this-wreched-F#-KIN-PEN! BLARGH! *Gasped! *” He was surprised at the end when the ink splattered out and sprinkled at the front. Only to be stained on Mickey's signature soiree tuxedo as he shielded it from getting on Oswald's favourite white and blue dragon vest.

Everybody was shocked when it happened. They we're expecting a heated argument at any moment, like most people would do if they've ruined a lovely suit, but Mickey didn't. Despite that happened, he still has that angry expression, remains calm and dust off invisible dusts. Oswald was surprised of his brother, he knew that he would be there for him but not at this level.

Bendy then chuckled nervously, but he then continued to write again as if that never happened. “Oh... well. At least you still have that old black suit. Now then! How much do you want and when will you hand over the rights? Tomorrow? Three days?”

It was just then Mickey had enough. “Never.” He would say in a rare tone that he would use to anyone unless it was serious. Bendy was taken aback and then looks up to Mickey. “I'm sorry, has my request left you confused? Let me simplify: I will buy Oswald the Lucky Rabbit from you by twice the worth you've paid.” He then glared at him with a menacing smile. “I understood you and I said 'Never.' I am not selling that character. Do you understand?” Mickey wasn't budging from his position.

He knew the real Bendy before he became a famous CEO of Joey Drew Studio. He has a few ideas of the real 'reason' why he wanted to own the rights of his brother's cartoon character he was named after. He knew that he would make him the butt of the cartoon Bendy's jokes and if one day they wanted to get rid of him, they would burn all of the character models and proof so that he or someone in the Disney family wouldn't get the chance to have him back again. He knew that would not only insult his older brother, but to anger him personally!

Bendy raised an eyebrow and then turned to the crowd with a playful act. “Did anyone heard this? Is he rally serious about missing a chance of cash opportunity over a little character? I... Ha! I really am confused.” He then tore a slip from his check book and then Boris tried to say that he seems serious until he then cuts him off. “Oh Boris, he MUST be joking.” He then handed out the check to Mickey, but he still refused. “No, I mean it, Bendy. You are not getting Oswald.” He tighten his fists besides him.

Bendy then persisted and kept his mask under pressure as he demanded again. “I said. I. Want. to. Buy. That. Stupid. Rabbit.” He once again flashed his check in front of him, but he still refused. “No matter how many times you'll say it, I will not change my answer. You are not getting him and that's final!” Mickey put his foot down as it encouraged some of the other people in the room.

“Yeah!” “You tell him, Mick!” “Oswald deserves better!” “He's your brother!” “He's not a loser!” “He's better than this!”

That made Bendy angrier and then he spat. “Are you people serious? You expect that faith, trust and pixie dust crap thing will help you with your futures, finances and all that sh!t? Nobody barely knew this rabbit and you think that he will be just as popular as that Nickel Mousey HE was named after with just a few episodes?” He then pointed at Mickey.

Oswald had just about enough of him and decided to 'escort' him out before it escalated. However, Mickey raised his arms to block him to prevent him of doing so. “And just how can you be so certain that it will not succeed if he hasn't given a chance? If he's not as popular as you say, the he will be at least on the same level as Goofy and Donald Duck! Just wait and see what we can do with our hard work and creativity!” Mickey protested and then the whole room cheered with him.

It was by then Bendy started to loose his temper. “Why you- Bunch of- Lunatics- Happy-” He then decided to tore up the check. “Alright, Mickey! You win! Keep that rodent forgettable character for all I care! Do whatever your animators wanted to do with him! Roast him at Easter supper!” He then threw the pieces up in the air like confetti. “But if you're begging on the streets, don't you ever come near me asking for help. Boris!” He shouted him as if it was a signal to leave. “I'm through with all of you! You amateur animators! You rusty mechanics! You house maids toilet cleaners! The old Farts!” He then decided to display his bitterness by throwing an uncut whip cream pie to the crowd while he said his final piece. “AND THOSE BRATTY, RODENT BROTHERS MICKEY AND OSWALD F#CKING DISNEY!” The whole crowd was surprised as the pie was flung rapidly across the room and even more shockingly, there was a person who caught it with such ease as if it remained intact. It was Mickey. He then held it with his right has and rest his fist on his hip as he then glared back again at Bendy as they left the building.

The whole room was silent apart there was a faint sound of ripping tire that can be heard from outside, indicating that they must have left in fury. Mickey then took a deep breath and then spoke. “I'm sorry. It was me that he was really after.” He then placed the pie back on the table. But the old maids spoke out. “It's not your fault, Mickey!” “Flora's right. He wasn't supposed to be invited.” “Bendy is just jealous of you and Oswald solely cause you both work really hard to get where you are now!”

He then smiled at them. “Thank you, Miss Flora, Fauna and Merrywheather. It seems that this unfortunate event has put an end to this party.”

“Oh, that's not entirely true! We're really happy for you two!” One of the animators said. “The ladies are right! Oswald, the cartoon rabbit, is back to this rightful family! The foods you both prepared is delicious and you showed the 'real' brat that he can't get away with anything!” Then it was one of the mechanics team who said it. Everybody was saying the same thing along with Ube and Walt.

“I think you need to take the rest of the night off. We can all take care of the rest here.” Walt told Mickey. He knew that he was soaked in ink and that moment he stood up for his brother had took quite the energy.

“I can take him home.” Oswald told their father. “Oh! thank you, Oswald. You're very thoughtful for your little brother. I will see both of you soon.” Walt was then now at ease knowing that they will be fine.

Both of them were excused for the night.

---- Time skipping on a Hawaiian roller coaster ride! ------

It took a while for Mickey to get some of the ink that flung on his skin by Bendy before he came out of the bathroom with his PJ's. It was just his regular outwear of white shirt and red pants. He went to their living room to tell his brother that the bath's free until he caught him seeing one of his sketches. He quietly walked over to see that it was the ones he was making with his counterpart character and his brother's.

“Do you like him?” Mickey asked him. He looked at him with a shocked reaction and then regained his composure. “Ah! Mickey! You've surprised me!...” He then looked at his character again. “I... know that it seems a bit outdated, but I did tried my best to be as close as it can be to it's original and it's similarities.” Mickey explained to him with honesty. Despite that most of their Disney characters had a major makeovers over twenty years, Oswald still had his original looks but a bit more... brother's look a like similarities. “Nah... I think he looks great as a 'half brother' for him.” Oswald smiled at it.

“I did manage to have almost three episodes done. So I hope once they've been release, he's going to be famous just like mine!” Mickey cheered himself up. “That's pretty, overly optimistic, even for you. I... I'm just really happy that I too, had a character that I was named after... Although I did remembered that it was from that Universal Studio animations and it was from more than a decade ago...” Oswald sighed.

He couldn't say that he never 'knew' about this character. In fact, he actually heard this story from about a decade ago, in one of those father and son moments when it was just him and Walt. He remembered that he say one of his father's early sketches from his old animation jobs. He remembered of the early depictions of this character that had a similar name to his. He remembered that he and Walt had a one on one chat about the truth of this. His original characters, the heated exchange between him and his boss and how he had to make a difficult choice to leave him behind. He remembered that it was one of those moments that he can see in his father's eyes that he was sad about the whole thing and that he wished that he could have done better for him...

“How did you discovered about all of this? Dad was very secretive with his old sketches, even with us.” Oswald asked him. He had an idea on one detail he also remembered. As much as Mickey tried, he's an awful liar. “I, er... was... looking for a, er, pencil or something dad wanted me to get, and er, yeah. He might have absent, mindlessly had it out in the open at the time!” He smiled nervously, thinking his brother might buy it.

Which it didn't work. “Funny, cause I knew you were peeping me and dad from the door. I can see you from the slightly open door frame almost ten years back.” Mickey gasped. “Oh, and while we're on that subject, this isn't the first time you've been following me.” Oswald smirked and gave an impression just like their mother would have made if she knew what they've been up to.

Mickey frantically responded. “Me? Following you? Why, I knew you disliked me being around you and with everybody-”

“You've used dad's old clothes to disguise yourself at any events I would be. Chinese Boxing tournaments, drag racing and even at one time, an invention expose when I was fifth-teen.” Oswald cuts him off. Mickey's expression was dumbfounded. But then he finally admits with hands up. “Alright, fine. I admit. I did went to see you compete and also that time with dad. I knew that if I'd made myself public wherever you were, people will take attention away from you and the competitors. You'd always hated that, but I just wanted to be supportive of what you do and your career. So I hid myself for that and I wanted to let you know that there's people who appreciate you for being, well, you. Not me, not dad or even our family name!” He played with his fingers. “And... I do look up to you.”

“What?” Oswald said in disbelief. He, Mickey, looks up to someone like him? Someone who's spend more time in the family's shadow than he does at the junkyard for invention parts?

“I mean...” Mickey timidly confessed to him. “You're always been so more... mature than most people. Apart from when we fight and nobody's around... But you've always been more in independent than I am. You've practically made enough to live on your own, not to mention you're a better fighter than I am, you solve problems better than I could have done or at least less damaging, and you've got that 'cool guy' thing that stands out when it's your turn to shine like Dean Martin!” He then got sadder, which was rare even from him. “Compared to me... behind my public mask, I'm probably too optimistic for my own good. I'm almost nothing like you and yet...I felt you're not being appreciated enough while I'm...” He struggles for the appropriate things to say as he bow his head down.

However, his big brother knew what he wanted to say and he steps in. “Mickey... You don't need to go that far for me. Remember when I was eleven around Christmas time that I was very ill?”

He looks up to him again. “Yeah... You were so sick that you had to be hospitalized. I cried almost every night you were there.” It was one of the most painful moments for him. He and Oswald were inseparable and they both shared everything, even when they've had different ideas, they both usually find a way to work thing out.

“Remember that I was so ill that I wouldn't be able to watch the Christmas parade that included dad's float that year?” He added. “Yeah... Dad wanted me to be on it with the mascots, but... I escaped. At the time, I was so mad at him for not caring for you and that he cared more about the float than your well being.” Mickey was a bit ashamed at this early childish actions.

“After you ran off, I remembered from what dad told me that he and other people was looking everywhere for you until he had a good idea of where you'd be. He found you sleeping with me with that Winnie the Pooh book that mom used to read to us.” Oswald said. “He was a bit angry at you, but it wasn't for ditching, you've worried him just as much as anyone else who was working with us at the time.”

“I... didn't meant to cause that much trouble. I was just upset that dad and the people didn't cared for you except me.” Mickey then got an unexpected surprise from his 'cool' brother.

Oswald was hugging him with one of his hand on his head. “Did you remembered what you've said after dad ranted on your 'actions?'” Mickey was still silent for a bit. Oswald then gave his answer. “You said that you didn't cared for whatever Christmas specials and what the company had provided, you just wanted me back. That... really made me feel special enough and why people respected you much better than Bendy. You cared. You're kind, optimistic, helpful, even considerate for people's feelings. You've put more efforts in your work just like any other senior animators and they love to chat or hang out with you. Even if you had to put your foot down on those times like you did with Bendy earlier, you were standing up on our beliefs and what really mattered. You don't need to change that, not even for me.”

That made him teary and hug him back. “Ozzy...*Sniff * That was one of the nicest things you've said to me.”

“Don't start the water works. You'll get red eyes in the morning.” Oswald told him as they settled down for the night.

----Author’s notes-----

I KNOW! I KNOW! It’s been a while since I’ve posted a fanfic here!

It’s like I’ve been a bit busy with work, watching shows and gaming. I did wanted to write but when I do, I get writers block!

Anyways! I did made a few scene combo references from 101 Dalmatians, Sleeping Beauty and Frozen along with some Disney’s character references.

I imagine from one point that Mickey and Oswald were once good friends with Bendy until a certain event happened that made them ‘very’ bitter.

The only reason why they didn’t lash out in a blood bath is was to maintain their ‘public’ image... Who knows what will happened behind those masks.

I also imagined that Oswald had gained some sort of independence and set himself apart from the animation family for his mechanics and that Mickey really does look up to him for that. (which made him self-conscious of his independence and work his way to the top too!)

But this is just a fanfiction, please tell me of what you think! Love is welcome!

The Bendy Before the Ink Machine AU and humanoid characters belongs to Marini4. Disney references belongs to the company itself.

[blue-pincushion]

TAGGED BY: @intolerablestrength woah thanks so much!!! O: TAGGING: oh shit here we go ! @team-phantom / @greendrums69 , @crimsonxblur , @1110-01111011 , @diamondintherouge / @wishesareeternal , @mercenaries-for-hire , @terminalvelocityau (pick your fave muse rn!) , @rothotnik , @fishing-purple-cat , @blunderbots , @birdboyofbabylon !

[ throwing this under a read more because it got long OOPS ]

—    BASICS.

▸     IS    YOUR    MUSE    TALL    /    SHORT    /    AVERAGE ? SHORT. hes literally 3′3 he’s the size of a hecking toddler but that’s what you get for being a mobian hedgehog lmfao. by mobian standards i’d say he’s probably average i guess? some mobians are way bigger and some are smaller than him it kinda varies from species to species. by mobian hedgehog standards i’d say he’s probably still average, maybe a little bit taller than the average hedgehog but yeah lmao

▸      ARE    THEY    OKAY    WITH    THEIR    HEIGHT ? it doesn’t really bother him that much until he’s forced to be compared to humans tbh like, especially when it comes to height restrictions for certain human contraptions such as a roller coaster designed for humans that he’s too small to ride honestly that shit ticks him off so much LET HIM RIDE IT DAMN IT

▸      WHAT’S    THEIR    HAIR    LIKE ? long, pointy, and blue. LOL no but for real his fur texture is short and soft, a little fuzzy in some places, although where it nears his back his hair becomes very tough and pointy and it’s hard to see where his fur ends and his quills begin since the color makes them blend together so much. if you look closely you can see all the individual quills he’s got, they kinda just grow a certain way that makes them clump together in those spikes you see on his head and back. they can still be styled though although it’s not the most comfortable experience

▸     DO    THEY    SPEND    A    LOT    OF    TIME    ON    THEIR    HAIR     /    GROOMING ? the most grooming sonic does is a quick shower, scrub down with some soap, and maybe brush some knots out of his fur if it’s bugging him. he’s absolutely the worst with remembering to groom his quills though and Tails has had to pluck loose ones out of Sonic many times before because it was driving the hedgehog nuts

sonic doesn’t really style his quills, they just are naturally spiked that way

▸      DOES   YOUR   MUSE   CARE   ABOUT   THEIR   APPEARANCE   /   WHAT    OTHERS    THINK ? not really! he’s confident in his looks so he doesn’t really worry much, although admittedly he’s a lil insecure about the very thin patch of fur on his tummy where you see that tan circle because he’s got OTHER male hedgehog friends who’ve got floof. how come he didn’t inherent his dad’s floof?? :c not cool

does he care about what others think about his appearance? nope he gets constant validation all the time from adoring fans who consider him to be a dream boat so honestly he’s not worried. he’s got his own style and is comfortable with it

—    PREFERENCES.

▸     INDOORS    OR    OUTDOORS ? 

outdoors absolutely. this is sonic the freakin hedgehog come ON man. there’s no room to run inside! there’s no fresh air! no open space! where’s he gonna get his adventure fix if he’s just stuck inside all day? booooo!

▸     RAIN    OR    SUNSHINE ?   both! while sonic very much enjoys the sun and finding a warm patch of sunlight to nap in, rain is also one of his favorite types of weather too. while he may be afraid of deep water, any other forms of experiencing water is lovely and the rain is really refreshing to run and splash in ▸     FOREST    OR    BEACH ?   okay sonic admittedly loves the beach and grew up with one literally a 2 minute walk away from his house but since there’s not much really to do besides look at how pretty the beach is he’ll have to go with forests. more stuff to explore and what not tbh. ▸     PRECIOUS    METALS    OR    GEMS ?   Gems for sure. he’s had a lot of fun playing with precious gems 👀 ▸     FLOWERS    OR    PERFUMES ? Oh for sure flowers, Sonic’s a huge flower and nature enthusiast and he enjoys the natural floral scents that they produce, plus they’re very pretty! ▸     PERSONALITY    OR    APPEARANCE ?   Personality hands down. if the person just LOOKS nice but has no personality then whats the point ??  ▸     BEING    ALONE    OR    BEING    IN    A    CROWD ?   it kinda depends. sonic doesn’t mind being in the presence of a lot of people but he’d prefer if he didn’t have all their attention and wasn’t lost in the throng of it. he’d rather be off to the side where he can do his own thing but still enjoy the presence of others. he’s a weird extrovert like that LOL ▸     ORDER    OR    ANARCHY ?   While he understands that order is important and it’s good for people to have moral structure in their lives, sometimes he just can’t do with the rules set in stone. sonic may be a good guy but in his mind sometimes being the good guy means you gotta break the rules  ▸     PAINFUL    TRUTHS    OR    WHITE    LIES ?  It... depends, honestly. is the painful truth about him or someone/something else? is he the one lying or is he the one being lied to?

sonic has a really bad habit with compulsively lying about his own well being so that others don’t worry about him, but when others lie to him about something (if it’s a really important something, not like minor stuff--- minor stuff he can let slide) then he Can’t Stand That. Which makes him a pretty huge hypocrite for hating white lies from other people but in his mind’s eye he puts other people first before him because he’s so darn selfless so it’s not really a big deal he’s sacrificing his well being for other’s right? he’s saving lives and making people happy right ?

anyway as far as the painful truth goes, as long as it doesn’t revolve around his personal feelings then he can manage it. i guess he prefers the painful truth in that sense, considering he’s carefully optimistic 

▸     SCIENCE    OR    MAGIC ?   ....eh. honestly he’s seen it all. at this point sonic just kinda  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ whatever man i can turn golden and super powerful with these magical rocks?? i can fight literal time gods with the rest of time space & reality crumbling around me and then re-set an entire timeline?? my brother can build a machine that can pinpoint my vital signature when i’m stuck in some weird void dimension??? aight. sounds fair. ▸     PEACE    OR    CONFLICT ?   Peace tbh, although after a while it does get a little boring if there’s no conflict for him to resolve--- being the hero he is. ▸     NIGHT    OR    DAY ?  

Either’s fine tbh, he doesn’t really have a preference. although sometimes night makes him feel a little on edge thanks to sonic unleashed ▸     DUSK    OR    DAWN ? 

he’s kinda indifferent about either, and isn’t really a fan of paying attention to the sun’s movements around these times of the day anyway bc it brings back unpleasant memories. thanks sonic unleashed

▸     WARMTH    OR    COLD  ? 

warmth pls he has short fur and was born on a tropical island, being cold sucks

▸     MANY   ACQUAINTANCES    OR    A    FEW    CLOSE    FRIENDS ? 

both ? sonic has a few close friends and many acquaintances tbh.

▸     READING    OR    PLAYING    A    GAME ?  

PLAYING A GAME ABSOLUTELY. reading just doesn’t cut it for this hedgehog’s overactive brain he needs something he can physically engage in somehow and while he may enjoy a good story he has to be receiving it in a way that keeps his attention and if he’s just stuck sitting there and staring at a page he will lose focus pretty quick.

—    QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸      WHAT    ARE    SOME    OF    YOUR    MUSE’S    BAD    HABITS ? -lying (about his well being) and hiding when he is hurt emotionally/physically -letting his selfless nature take control to the point where it’s damaging his own health -isolating himself with his problems so other people don’t have to deal with it -running away from situations when he can’t understand his feelings -making impulsive decisions that he doesn’t always think through  

▸      HAS    YOUR    MUSE    LOST    ANYONE    CLOSE    TO    THEM ?      HOW    HAS    IT    AFFECTED    THEM ? sonic’s first experience with losing a loved one was his own father, who unfortunately died saving sonic’s life from drowning in a tsunami. it was what  really kick started a lot of what you see in the blue hedgehog today, tbh. his drive to help and save others, his resolve over accepting that bad things happen and you can’t always control that no matter what you do... you can thank his mom for that btw. she helped sway him away from completely internalizing this event and taught him some very important life lessons.

since then Sonic has been no stranger to loss but he’s gotten good at handling it over the years, seeing as he’s had to say goodbye to many people in his life. it still hurts, though. he will do everything in his power to not lose those people who hold that place in his heart

▸      WHAT    ARE    SOME    FOND    MEMORIES    YOUR    MUSE    HAS ?  

flying in his grandpa’s plane for the first time, it was the coolest thing he’d ever experienced in his life at the time. 

another time would be soaring above the city tops of grand metropolis with his teammates (in sonic heroes), like honestly traveling as that trio for a while was such a thrill and he sometimes misses those days

▸     IS    IT    EASY    FOR    YOUR    MUSE    TO    KILL ? ....not really, no. sonic really doesn’t like killing and will do just about anything to avoid doing it unless it really, really comes down to the only option he has. and let me tell you, sonic takes no pride in being responsible for the death of someone else, no matter who that person is.

▸      WHAT’S    IT    LIKE    WHEN    YOUR    MUSE    BREAKS    DOWN ?

oh boy.

sonic’s breakdowns are honestly really subtle, and that’s because they’re a slow process that consists of him cracking and crumbling and then trying to hold it together and build himself back up because he can’t afford to break down and then cracking and crumbling again but never really allowing himself to have that moment where he actually snaps and falls apart.

the signs you’ll want to look out for will be him avoiding people way more often than usual, becoming irritable and his temper flaring up, exhaustion from lack of getting amounts proper sleep, he pretty much starts to self destruct a little bit and it’s not a pretty sight. it’s why he especially tries to avoid people when he gets like this because he doesn’t want them to see whats actually going on.

▸      IS    YOUR    MUSE    CAPABLE    OF    TRUSTING    SOMEONE    WITH    THEIR    LIFE ? there’s lots of people he’d trust with his life tbh

▸      WHAT’S    YOUR    MUSE    LIKE    WHEN    THEY’RE    IN    LOVE ?

,,,, man.

ok, sonic is such a huge sap and he hates it LOL. he’ll suddenly catch himself thinking all wistfully about the person he’s in love with and will be like “really?? right in front of my salad??” LMAO it’s just in his nature to be cheesy and sappy and do sweet things for the person of his affections because that’s exactly how his dad was but at the same time he’ll mentally take a second to point out how lame it is and he embarrasses himself over it ashdfkd

besides that, though, sonic is a real big sweet heart, and he’ll really want to try to express to that person how much he loves them but he’d also fear this whole romantic side of him coming out will interfere with his love of adventure. the idea of committing himself to one specific person in a way that makes them feel like his whole world to him is a bit scary to sonic, because he knows that he can’t really afford that when he’s out here saving lives and going on adventures. how could he possibly have the time for that, anyway? can this person keep up with him? would he be willing to slow down for that person? it just begs so many different questions and forces sonic to face possible changes to his entire way of living and it freaks him out a little bit.

which is why he tends to avoid romantic topics in general, and also why when he gets a crush on someone he goes straight into panic mode LOL. he’d honestly rather stay friends with the person and quietly adore them in his own time, maybe by sending them gifts or dropping by their place on occasion, DEFINITELY, AT LEAST making an effort to spend a little bit more time with that person than anyone else. 

[kalico-to-the-letter]

REVIEW: RWBY – Vol. 5, Ch. 11: “THE MORE THE MERRIER”

Salutations to all celebrating this little holiday period. I’ve never been one for festivities, but have no choice in this particular one – hence me being in another country and expecting to be late with this review. In the end, it’s thankfully on schedule.

This week gave us: All the shounen manga-style fighting you could want from RWBY, and a really dumb thing.

The Internet here is so poor that it can’t handle .gifs, to my great dismay. So in lieu of my usual “spoiler warning” .gif, please enjoy this picture of a cat – people on the Internet like cats, apparently.

See? It’s telling you not to progress any further if you don’t want the spoilers.

In “The More the Merrier”, RWBY takes us straight into the endgame of the season. It relies a lot on shounen manga-style storytelling, which is a good and a bad thing. And ultimately, this is an episode which is about building to a singular moment – the problem being that the moment in question takes a spear to the abdomen and falls flat on its face. Oh wait, too soon?

I don’t see why I should beat around the bush any further, so let’s just get into it. If this show kills Weiss, then I’m going to have a major problem.

This is so different to Pyrrha. With Pyrrha, a significant part of Volume 3 was spent building up something major for her – certainly from the midpoint onwards. I can justify how the show used her – for the most part – because her arc was leading her to a definitive destination. She was either going to triumph over Cinder or lose and die – or something similarly massive, anyway – and because the story was to build up Cinder, and Ruby by extension, Pyrrha was doomed the minute the scenario was drawn up.

Again, this thing with Weiss is so different to Pyrrha’s situation that it’s insane. Weiss’s last major arc was in Volume 4, and nothing has suggested that she could be heading to the same fate. She’s been ancillary for so much of the season – she’s been fantastic in that role, but there’s no denying that her story this season has existed on the fringes, compared to the likes of Yang and Blake, whose arcs have driven the season.

Some argued at the time and since that Pyrrha’s death was a fridging. My opinion was that it could be seen that way, but only in a very narrow context. To me, her death was the bedrock of the entire Volume 4, and, like it or not, death is a very effective and useful narrative device – not that the decision to kill a character off is easy, but sometimes it is the answer. Cinder killing Pyrrha was the right move for the direction of the story – one that Monty himself planned. Sure, I’ll bite on how it affected Jaune, as that plays into the Weiss issue as well. But that argument only goes so far before one has to look at what benefitted the overarching direction at the time, and it certainly would have been a bit pointless for Pyrrha to just defeat Cinder and for Beacon to never fall.

If Weiss dies though, then I will jump on the fridging bandwagon – hell, I’ll start the engine.

Jaune has been a nonentity this season. He – as well as Nora and Ren – have been the fringiest of fringe. He’s had less story than Weiss. So why on Remnant is he so central to this episode? Ignore the problems I have with involving Weiss in the first place – why is he the one attached to her moment?

(Of course I know why, but I’m loathe to actually write it down, because it’s a horrendous thing.)

I get it. Pyrrha kissed him before she died, she was the only one who really gave him a shot, and he’s torn up about it; seeing Cinder again sets him off. But I don’t like that the show is now making Pyrrha’s death and Weiss’s situation all about him, when it wasn’t before. Like, at all. I’ll say it again. To me, Pyrrha’s death was about the narrative, but now the show is retroactively making it central to Jaune, when that was not originally the case. 

And to go even further, Weiss has had nothing to do with Jaune for years. I would be similarly animated if Cinder threw her spear at Ren, for instance, because it makes no sense. The only one I would be okay with being put in this scenario is Qrow. He’s the one who has been built up to be the fall guy for two years now. Why is Weiss being put in a situation that he has been groomed for?

There are still three episodes left, it is important to remember. In fact, I’m still sure that Qrow will die before this season is over, and this Weiss thing is merely a fake-out for another purpose, like triggering Jaune’s semblance or something, which is problematic in itself. But if anything, that’s a reason why I’m sure she’ll survive.

This was a move pulled for shock value, hence its placement at the very end of the episode; hence the show cutting to black before she even hit the floor. With so much time left in the season, there is still a lot of story to tell. Consider all of the above just my warning shots – my preemptive salvo – in case the show does decide to do something stupid, like actually killing off Weiss right now.

But the fact that this is even happening is why I can’t consider this a great episode. There was a lot in it, but to break it down is to realise that this episode was relying on the stuff with Cinder and Jaune to make it gold. Nothing else could touch the depth that this subplot was trying to mine (keyword trying); it was the hook and the line, but the involvement of Weiss is what sinks it, and it taints the rest of this episode.

Forget the other fights for a second; this episode was all about building to the moment where Weiss falls, and that moment did nothing but confuse me.

Up until the ending, though, I liked the rest of this. And I’ve tried to grade this episode with that in mind – this was on track to be a great episode until all the big stuff happened.

I like that the show is really kicking off the endgame with so much time left. It suggests that there will be room for the conclusion to breathe and feel smoothly paced.

Even though it’s cheesy, I like the shounen anime feel of all the confrontations and fights. I picture a scene from Naruto, with two warring shinobi talking well-scripted trash and interlacing it with bursts of action. Every fight in this episode starts with this formula, and it’s fun.

I like that Ruby did the silver-eyes thing again, even though it felt oddly-placed and proved entirely useless. Just seeing it again was a big deal.

Yeah, Weiss was the first to struggle against her opponent, but that makes sense because it’s Vernal and we haven’t seen her fight yet – we have to see evidence that she’s strong. We became aware of some vulnerabilities in the link between Oscar and Ozpin, which was intriguing. Jaune held his own against Cinder, but she didn’t look particularly troubled by him – which makes me think that it’s been five years and he’s barely progressed, but whatever.

This would have been a great way to start this last little run of the season. But it ends up just being weird and making this review sound angry. Of course I’m holding my breath a bit as I await the next episode, which will probably provide the clarity necessary to make my preemptive salvo moot, and will probably give us a way for Weiss to survive.

But as a whole, I’ve still gotta give this episode the side-eyes, while still acknowledging its positives. And I’ve gotta give that ending a hard pass.

Additional Observations:

- So we’ve got Jaune v Cinder, Ruby v Emerald, Yang v Mercury, Weiss v Vernal, Qrow v Raven, Oz v Leo, and Ren & Nora v Hazel.

-  It’s out of nowhere, but I wouldn’t half mind if Jaune’s semblance was healing-related and he saved Weiss. I would prefer it if she just pulled through on her own – or with someone else’s help, sorry – but I wouldn’t mind if this whole thing is a build-up to the awakening of his semblance. It would be corny and dumb and manipulative and dumb, but writers have all sorts of tricks up their sleeves to make anything seem plausible, and these writers are no different.

Grade: C+

Final Thoughts: “The More the Merrier” is, overall, an okay attempt to set up RWBY’s endgame for the season. It’s come at an opportune time, surely allowing the stories to develop properly. The episode is a competent packaging of shounen-style confrontations and fights, and the ending sets the stage for a momentous conclusion to Volume 5. But the ending itself is a dud. Whether it’s intended as a fake-out or the actual death of Weiss, the handling of the moment is clumsy, grossly constructed, and reeking of one of the worst kinds of story manipulation. No surprise that it hurts the episode as a whole. – Kallie

[paulisweeabootrash]

Book Review: The Tale of Genji (well, part of it)

So the "weeaboo" part of the name of this blog is obvious.  But the "trash" part?  I'm going to say this is an example of that, since, while writing this, I felt something I’ve felt many times before: like I’m not capable of Serious Analysis because I don't really understand Serious Literature.  In my reading habits, I gravitate much more towards speculative fiction — sci-fi and dystopias — that is not often filed under "literature" in stores or libraries, or even by cultural commentators.  But I feel like writing another review this month, and I'm running low on month, so today for your enjoyment(?), I'm tackling a book for the second time, and it's quite different from the previous book I reviewed in just about every way.

It's Japanese, it's very old, and it's "serious literature": The Tale of Genji (original c. 1021, this translation 1929).  Or the first 9 chapters, anyway, since I did not realize that’s all this version included when I bought it.

I seem to have a habit of just serendipitously stumbling into interesting things.  I first heard about The Tale of Genji by Lady Murasaki Shikibu from, of all things, the 1997 Windows edition of "Where in Time is Carmen Sandiego?".  I knew very little about it other than it being considered one of the earliest novels, so when I recently found, for an absurdly cheap price, a paperback of the Dover Thrift Edition, I bought it.  Turns out this edition contains only the first 9 chapters — "Kiritsubo" through "Aoi" — out of the full 54, as translated by Arthur Waley in 1929.  So that's all I'll talk about here.

Genji, our main character, is a son of the Emperor of Japan, but not the heir to the throne (in fact, as a member of the Minamoto Clan, he is not part of the line of succession at all), so he seems to enjoy wealth and an entourage but very little actual responsibility for governing.  He is granted a couple of military offices, but they do not seem to entail much beyond his initial training.  He spends his teens paying unsolicited visits and sending unsolicited letters to women he's attracted to in the hopes of getting some of them to respond well to his advances, sort of a high-class equivalent of Straight White Boys Texting.  But he's actually pretty good at it, since his main traits are being (1) very handsome and (2) good at poetry.  The plot of the chapters discussed in this review is largely concerned with his secret sexual exploits as a teenager, which range from genuine romantic relationships to behavior we'd now recognize as horridly entitled abuses of power.

The first chapter, which reads a bit differently than the others because it was a standalone work in a deliberately archaic folkloric writing style rather than the literary style of the time, briefly describes Genji's childhood, heaping nauseating praise on his intrinsic good looks, and ending with his political marriage at age 12 to his 16-year-old cousin Princess Aoi, an arrangement which neither has any interest in.  Jumping forward an unspecified amount of time, but still clearly sometime in Genji's teens, the next episode we see in his life is a lengthy discussion with Aoi's brother, To no Chujo (or, rather, Tō no Chūjō, 頭中将, which Google Translate renders as “Head General" — most characters in the book are referred to by either a title or a nickname, not their given names) and a couple of other aristocrats comparing the behaviors and virtues of various types of women, involving discussions of both personality and social class.  This provides a little bit of insight to the modern reader into the class system and attitudes on gender of the place and time, and narratively sets up Genji's behavior for the rest of the story.

Some of Genji's affairs are one-night stands, wherein he seduces or uses his status to impose himself upon relatives or servants of noblemen he is visiting.  Others are ongoing relationships, and declarations of belief in destined meetings and the exchange of flirty poems of varying quality are often involved.  These "relationships" such as they are end badly.  One successful one-night stand with a married woman leads Genji to hire the woman's 13-year-old brother as a messenger to try to arrange future encounters with her unsuspiciously, then because she is repeatedly not available, he decides the brother looks enough like her to be "no bad substitute for his ungracious sister".  Another, Genji neglects to the point of nearly ghosting her, although he seems at first to genuinely love her — once no longer feeling the "spark" of being in love, Genji stays in contact with her but rarely visits her.  Another is killed by a ghost, or possibly by fright at the belief that there is a ghost.  He is nearly caught multiple times, including by To no Chujo, and there is implicitly a looming threat of terrible damage to the reputations of Genji and his lovers and/or victims if he is ever exposed, but the whole series of events is merely suspected by acquaintances, never conclusively discovered.

All the while, in the background, Genji has been pining for Fujitsubo, his father's concubine.  This infatuation has been going on since his childhood, and plays itself out in an extraordinarily creepy way throughout the remaining chapters.  Genji, having fallen sick, travels to a monastery where Fujitsubo's mother is a nun, seeking healing.  Several orphans are being raised at the monastery, and one of them, Murasaki, looks strikingly familiar.  Genji discovers that she is the daughter of Fujitsubo's brother, born out of wedlock to a woman who since died, hence her presence at the orphanage.  He offers to adopt and tutor her, and there is a bit of miscommunication (that's actually kind of funny) in which he repeatedly tries to assure people that he knows she's a child and really is attempting to adopt her, not marry her.  He is turned away until he learns that Murasaki is to be sent off to live with her father, whom she does not know, at which point Genji returns to kidnap her and her nurse and bring them back to his palace to live with him.  Yeah.  He does tutor Murasaki and treat her in a parental sort of way, and his feelings are portrayed as initially innocent, but... it's clear he does actually intend to eventually marry her, which is horrifying, and the nurse is surprisingly in favor of this.  And within the confines of the story, the whole thing is "justified" by Genji's belief that they must have been lovers in a past life.

While Genji, by now I'm pretty sure somewhere in his late teens although I lost track of exactly how old, is grooming tutoring Murasaki (making her too outspoken and forward to be properly ladylike, it is mentioned, highlighting again the strict gender roles involved here), he also manages to finally hook up with Fujitsubo, fathering a child which, much to their relief, the Emperor unquestioningly accepts as his own.  Fujitsubo is then elevated from concubine to Empress, although she is not the mother of the Heir Apparent, and they cannot continue the affair.  The Heir is arranged to marry Oborozukiyo, who is his aunt, whom Genji of course also pursues, and then we skip ahead again to see that the Heir has ascended the throne and Genji's secret son by Fujitsubo is the new Heir Apparent.

Rokujo (the woman Genji seemed to love, then neglected) makes public their on-and-off relationship, and Genji, now 22, is reprimanded by his father, not for having the affair but for treating Rokujo so thoughtlessly and indiscreetly, risking both of their reputations.  After a confrontation at a religious ceremony that Rokujo takes as a personal insult, Genji and Aoi (hey, remember her? Genji’s wife?) finally start to spend time together, and Aoi gets pregnant but also terribly sick.  Rokujo believes she has inadvertently cursed her with the power of her jealousy — and is apparently proven right when she somehow possesses Aoi while the latter is in labor.  Aoi lingers for a while, but dies.  Genji mourns and regrets dramatically, and in the midst of his grief, just when he looks like he'll reform into not-a-creep, gets engaged to Murasaki (who is at this point, what, 14 or something?).  I'll just let this quote from the last chapter explain itself: "In Murasaki none of his hopes had been disappointed; she had indeed grown up into as handsome a girl as you could wish to see, nor was she any longer at an age when it was impossible for him to become her lover.  He constantly hinted at this, but she did not seem to understand what he meant."  Ew.  And so this book ends with sorting out Aoi’s estate and preparing for Genji and Murasaki’s wedding.

So... that's the beginning of the Tale of Genji.  There’s a lot more to it than that, and a lot worth talking about about, such as the frequency with which the real cause of events is left ambiguous, reporting only different people’s assumptions about them, or the depictions of Genji genuinely enjoying spending time with women in non-sexual contexts, neither of which is something a naïve reader, especially one with as dim a view of humanity as I usually have, would probably assume is contained in a thousand-year-old book.  But I’ve highlighted the things I have above because I'm left with one overarching question/feeling by all this.  I find the story interesting, but Genji himself usually repulsive.  I'm wondering whether he would've come off unsympathetically to the audience at the time or whether this is severe values dissonance.  I suspect the latter, but I'm not sure.

On the one hand, in the last chapter of this section, there is the reprimand about his behavior and a sort of demonstration through Rokujo of the havoc caused by Genji's behavior, and he shows apparently genuine sadness if not actual remorse throughout when the affairs that seem to involve actual romantic feelings fall apart.  Earlier on, we the audience do see the women’s feelings explored a bit, and they make Genji look like he doesn’t understand what he’s doing.  In the part of the story not contained in this book, there is a later exposed affair that he actually suffers some kind of social consequences for.  But on the other hand, I suspect that Genji's behavior would've been recognized as something like "boys will be boys" — the narrator certainly describes his behavior as if it’s inevitably how men are...  And maybe the raw feeling of entitlement to sex and the grooming of Murasaki (not to mention, if you chart out character relationships, a lot of incest) would be taken as acceptable or at least unavoidable behavior for aristocrats.  (At least, that's what I gather from what I've read of how European nobility behaved — I don't know if that translates for sure to other places and times, but it seems in line with modern research on power leading to disregard for others.)

This was written in Heian-era Japan, about which I admittedly know almost nothing except that it was when "the palace turned into such a dreamworld of art that they really didn't give a shit about running the country".  The class system is discussed explicitly in some places in the book, with characters making matter-of-fact assumptions and statements about what men and women of various classes are like.  If not necessarily the beliefs of the author, they probably reflect beliefs real people held.  This book would've been a subversive condemnation of a predatory ruling class if published in, say, France in the 1700s, but the Shogunate was still almost 200 years in the future for Lady Murasaki and her target audience.  This is contemporary, not historical, for her, and Genji as a person probably looks much worse in retrospect and through the eyes of modern audiences who don't believe in different behaviors being appropriate for people's "stations".

I'm curious to see whether other English translations are also written in such a convoluted and indirect style, and whether maybe they have more extensive translator's notes beyond citations to some of the quoted poems, explanations of characters' nicknames, and the occasional reminder who a rarely-mentioned character is...  I'm convinced that this is an interesting story, because I can enjoy an unsympathetic protagonist, but I'm not convinced that this is a great rendition of it.

------

Revised W/A/S Scores: 15 / 2? / 3? / yuck

Weeb: The original definition of a score of 10 on the weeb scale was that the work "assumes the audience possesses a PhD in Japanese cultural studies".  Even by that standard, I'm fairly sure that the book goes far beyond the intended top of the scale — not only resting deeply on Japanese cultural tropes and assumptions, but written in the court culture of the Heian-era aristocracy, which contains footnotes noting that even the translator is unsure of the sources of some of the quotes that appear to be from poems or songs of the time.  The past is definitely a foreign country, especially when you're separated by a millennium and reverence for a different regional power's traditions (at the time, Japan deeply romanticized China, and in fact many of the poetry quotes that are sourced are from influential Chinese poets).

Ass: For the amount of sex that happens in this book, there is certainly very very little actual sexual content.  But, like, maybe be an adult who is reading this.

Shit (writing): The vast majority of character interactions are believable, but it sort of falls flat with the barely-explained reconciliation between Genji and Aoi, and Genji's engagement to Murasaki seems to happen just because he and Murasaki's nurse expect it to more than because of any real romantic feelings or even political considerations.  I'm unsure whether this is a product of the original text or of the particular translation, but the writing style is stilted and convoluted even by my standards — and I like H.P. Lovecraft, not an author exactly known for being concise or unpretentious.  Other than just plain difficulty of understanding certain passages, I feel unqualified to judge the quality of writing at all.  Despite being characterized as a novel by modern audiences, it also feels much more episodic than you'd normally think for the word "novel", like a compilation of short stories about the same character, which I suspect based on the translator's introduction is how the book was actually written.  I was surprised and delighted to see some metacommentary in here — Murasaki goes off on asides several times, breaking character as the narrator, including to comment on how other authors would describe something but she doesn't want to, which was shockingly modern of her and reminded me a bit of the asides in the original novel of The Princess Bride about removing tedious sections.

Shit (other): not applicable, I'm pretty sure?

Content: Genji is a creep.

-----

Stray observations:

- "Minamoto" and "Genji" have the same kanji, according to the Wikipedia article linked above for the Minamoto Clan, which would make the implication that he was excluded from the line of succession immediately obvious to readers at the time, but I had to go look it up.

- This book also includes an interesting foreword giving some biographical information about Lady Murasaki, and I am intrigued by quoted excerpts from her diary, in which she talks at length about the beauty of her "great friend" Lady Saisho (to whom, says the translator, "she was evidently very strongly attached") in very similar terms to those quoted on the previous page in her description of Fujiwara no Michinaga, secretary to Emperor Ichijō, with whom she apparently had an ongoing sexual, if not necessarily romantic, relationship.  Is this a cultural misunderstanding on my part about how it was acceptable for people to describe each other's appearance in different times and places, or was Murasaki possibly bi?

- Possession by ghosts is a broadly cross-cultural idea, but I don't think I've ever heard of possession by a living person before!

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Divide-Outtake-New Men

AN- this will be familiar at first, but then it takes a very smutty turn. 17+, NSFW-threesome kink.

Sorry, or you’re welcome!

Harry made his way over to Nick and could see him bouncing on his heels. He was in for it.

"Fucking Harold, of course you've been here 10 minutes and already worked your magic on my dream man," Nick mocked.

"What are talking about, just met him." Harry tried for deflection and took a drink of his cocktail before. Looking over his shoulder. Laurel turned away quickly, but Willy smiled at him.

"That's what I'm talking about, they've been watching you since you walked away. Fancy a three way, Styles?" Nick laughed loudly.

Harry shook his head, he was really just interested in a two way, honestly. From there Nick launched into a schpiel about all the ways that Willy Cartier could do no wrong.

"Harry, he totally out styles, Styles. Think he's walked every designer you love. The man must eat nothing but Kale with the way he looks with no clothes on. I've never seen him misstep with his fashion. I heard the other day that he spent $500 on these painted jeans, but from the picture, they were worth every penny." Harry scoofed internally, but then remembered the $900 he'd spent on his leather jeans, Nick was still going, "They were tight, not obscene like yours, but perfectly thigh skimming. Ugh. His facial hair, think he shapes his eyebrows or he's just lucky being Vietnemese? "Harry treated the question as rhetorical, and that seemed the right choice, because Nick was STILL talking. But Harry must have lost the plot, because he swore that Nick had just mentioned Willy's arsehole.

"I'm sorry, What?" Harry dropped the t as always and his face was a picture of bafflement.

"What, what? I'm gay, Harry, not just visiting, I spend time back there. It's supposed to be aesthetically pleasing. He's very groomed, could see him doing it for Frank Ocean, I mean, I'd bleach mine for either of them honestly. Could be a bonding experience. We could test it out!" Nick was raising his eyebrows excitedly.

Harry laughed out loud and felt his shoulders come down for the first time since he spotted his girl. The rest of the night was filled with more anecdotes from Nick about the magnificence of Willy and conjecture about his willy. Apparently he had a tight nit group of childhood friends he vacationed with and could lad it up on a night out, stupid hand gestures included.

Harry was frankly sick of the discourse, he loved Nick, but his ego was sore and Grimmy kept pressing on the bruise with his praise.

It wasn't really fair to Nick, Harry'd been comparing himself to Willy pretty much constantly since he saw him with Laurel going to the pub.

In an effort to distract himself, He'd clocked on Laurel's location again. She was perched on the end of a chair and Willy was whispering in her ear. She snorted in response, and he filled in the sweet sound in his head.

"Why the long face , Harry. Someone put olive juice in your drink, " Nick took his cocktail and sipped it.

Harry ignored his antics, "how do you know all this about the fellow?" Harry had spent a fair amount of time on Laurel's instagram recently and that had led him to Willy's. But this information was mostly unfamiliar. Nick knew things Harry had not sussed out from his social media. Though he was envious of his wardrobe.

"I've asked around, have you not noticed he's my new celebrity crush. Keep up Harold!" Nick all but shouted and Harry felt the burn of eyes in his neck. His skin prickled and he turned to the side and caught Laurel's quick turn away again. He would have felt a moment of smug satisfaction, but couldn't find it in himself. She may have glanced at him a couple times, but the man of every ones' dreams was still attached to her hip.

Tomo came over then to lead him through his section and Harry was thankful for the break from the fan club. "Who was the girl?" Tomo asked as they rounded the last corner of the installation.

"Which girl?" Harry feigned as he placed his 5th empty glass on a passing tray.

"The one you keep looking for with the long haired bloke," Tomo rolled his eyes at Harry. "You've got that look, like chances missed."

"Just a girl I used to know," Harry shrugged and excused himself to the bathroom.

It was down a long, narrow hallway and the lighting was bad, a little too dim to accomplish its atmospheric intent, so he wasn't surprised when he stumbled into someone. He smelled her before he saw her. He anchored his hand on her hip and his breath caught. Maybe the lighting was fine, because a mood was set.

He pulled back to look her in the eyes and watched her pupils dialate and her chest brushed his when she sucked in a breath.

"Hi Harry," she breathed, and he was so encouraged by her physical response to him he nearly missed the change. Her eyes shuttered and she untangled herself from him. "Can't believe I bumped into YOU, that's a change, clumsy." Laurel laughed. "So, what do you think of Willy?" She asked and flicked her hair over her shoulder.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Dunno, what do you think of Willy?"

"I think he's perfect and a really good time. He pursued me after we met at ed's. Figured he had an agenda, but he surprised me and asked me out instead," she smiled and gave a shrug. "He's a good cook and he's been teaching me yoga."

"I didn't know you liked yoga."

"Me either. But of course you didn't Harry," She gave him a sad smile and quick hug before starting to walk away.

His stomach dropped out, there was a lot he didn't know. "Laurel, you look really good, so happy, and I'm glad. I just," he pinched his bottom lip. "I wish it had been me."

Laurel blinked quickly a couple times and walked away.

Harry didn't feel much like hanging around after that, do he made his goodbyes and grabbed his coat. He laughed at his own childishness when he gave the photo of Willy at the entrance a two fingered salute.

His self pity was boring even him, but his regret was overwhelming. Laurel was gone, her new man meant to be.

He found himself scrolling down her Instagram and had a miniature heart attack when he accidentally double tapped a photo of her the day she got hired by Ed Lee. It was right before they met. He broke the little heart quickly and decided he needed to put away the technology before he did something he couldn't undo so easily. He had just plugged the phone in his kitchen and was turning to walk again when it buzzed again.

His draw dropped before the side of his mouth quirked up into a smug smile at the memory tinged message.

"I wasn't the only one who got a show in Barcelona."

Harry smirked, she was texting him, he rolled his head back on his neck and wondered if he should respond. He closed his eyes and watched her body move in his mind's eye.  "I remember my show very well. What does Willy think of your shows?" He couldn't help but tack on, petty he knew, but his ego was a little bruised from Nick's fangirling.

"He hasn't had one yet, think he'd rather have you put one on. He talked about you after we left for ages."

He quirked his brow, "how do you feel about that?"

"I feel like you should come over." And there was an address.

Harry stopped, was he gonna do this? He missed her, loved being inside her, but it'd been a time since he'd been with a guy.

He was grabbing his keys and heading to the door before he could talk himself out of it.

The drive wasn't far, but Harry still had time for second thoughts. He was jingling his keys when he got to the door.

His nerves evaporated when Willy answered the door shirtless with his jeans unbuttoned while holding a glass of wine.

"Allo, Harry. Come in. Make yourself welcome. Wine?" Willy moved through the flat to the living room and pointed Harry to the couch where Laurel was lounging. She was dressed in only a man's shirt. Harry felt a twinge that it wasn't his, but shook it off.

He approached her and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder to avoid startling her and leaned down to kiss her cheek. She surprised him by turning her mouth in. He felt the zing he always did when their lips touched. She pulled back then and gave him a promising smile before biting her lip. Harry sat on the other end of the couch from her and she promptly put her legs in his lap.

Willy came in then and handed Harry a stemless glass of wine. His hand lingered and he momentarily intertwined their fingers before going to sit on the opposite side of the coffee table on the floor. Harry could see his happy trail an his eyes followed it down before he looked up and caught Willy watching him. Harry was over dressed in his button down and skinnies.

"Harry, I caught your show, the last date in London. You are very powerful on stage, no? Where do you find the energy?" Willy sipped his wine and held Harry's eye.

"Umm, it's the adrenaline, the crowd and a bit of fear, I guess."

"It does not look like fear, you look fearless, like a lion. Stalking around, whipping your hair, it’s very sexy, no?" Willy directed the last question to Laurel and Harry looked at her to catch her response.

He nearly swallowed his tongue when she widened her legs just enough for him to see she was pants-less.

"Harry knows I think he's sexy. I loved when he came to me fresh from a show, sweaty and amped. You were always a little rougher then," her voice, usually a little husky dipped an octave by the end of her sentence and Harry went from half to fully hard. Her voice did things to him, her foot had suddenly found his bulge and the quick rub she gave finished the job.

It was decision time, it was clear they were all here for one thing, Harry was unsure if he should move things along or not. His hard cock demanded he stay, but his feelings for Laurel made him pause. This would change things irreparably. He moved his hand to Laurel's calf and and wrapped his hand around the curve of it. She widened her legs and the light shined off her pink lips. He was doing this.

Harry's hand migrated up her leg, passed knee, onto her outer thigh, where he exerted pressure. Laurel responded by placing her glass on the table and sliding her other leg over his lap. Once there, she breathed against his lips, "Hi."

Harry let his hand find her sacrum, "Hi," he said before kissing her. He pressed his lips against hers and was rewarded by her enthusiastic response, she slotted her top lip between his and opened just wide enough to give a quick lick of tongue against his. He smiled despite himself. He loved that move. He repeated it and she gasped when he gripped her bottom. He used the opportunity to open his mouth wider against her and slide his wine flavored muscle against hers. The kiss continued and Laurel began to nip at his bottom lip at the exact time her hips began to rock against his lap.

Harry glanced up and found Willy standing behind Laurel. "You both have a lot of clothes on," He commented before reaching between Harry and Laurel and unbuttoning her shirt. "Laurel, help out your friend."

Laurel's hands flew to the button on his blue silk shirt. Between the three of them, they were all topless in moments. Willy pushed his button up off Laurel’s shoulders, but lingered over her nipples on the way up. Her head fell back on her neck and Harry was slightly jealous that Willy already knew that weakness. Harry replaced Willy's hands with his mouth on her right breast and was rewarded by a moan that was quickly suffocated by the kiss he caught Willy placing on her lips.

Harry's shirt was hanging off his elbows and his jeans were uncomfortably tight. He shifted, "Can we continue this somewhere with more room?"

"Oui," Willy nodded, and helped Laurel to her feet, pinching her bare bottom as she walked in front of him, hastening her motion. By the time Harry made it to the bed room he found them in down the hall, Willy was left in a small pair of black trunks. Nick was right, he had a beautiful body. Willy reclined on the bed and Laurel straddled him. They shared several kisses while Harry watched. But a moment later, Laurel looked up and saw him in the door in just his jeans.

"Harry, come?" she extended her hand to him. He walked to the bed and her hand found the button of his jeans when he was in reach. She unbuttoned him and smiled at Willy knowingly, "You're in for a treat," she promised and pulled Harry free, pumping him several times before leaning over to place him on her lips. He gritted his teeth, her mouth always felt so good. He was distracted until a hand ran up his chest and into his hair, he opened his eyes to find Willy pulling him down to his mouth. Laurel continued to grind on Willy's lap and swallow Harry while the boys shared a kiss.

"Join us, Harry," Willy motioned to the bed and Harry started to move, but not before Laurel rid him of his bottoms.

She stroked him twice and smiled at Willy, "gorgeous, right? Just like I said."

"Qui," Willy responded.

Harry blushed, which seemed ridiculous considering his predicament. He watched Laurel as she made pulled Willy free, and was momentarily impressed himself. His eyebrows shot up and his male partner gave him a smug smile.  He fitted himself against Laurel's naked back while she stroked Willy's dick. His hands found her sensitive nipples and he rubbed them in circles until she was shaking and she pulled his hair to make him kiss her. He felt the bed shift and saw that Laurel was pulling Willy up, so she was sandwiched between them. She kissed Willy deeply, then switched to Harry before placing her hands gently on the back of their heads to encourage them.

This was a proper kiss, and Harry loved that his mouth was full of a new flavor while his nose was full of Laurel's familiar arousal. A hand found his dick and he wasn't sure whose it was for a moment until he felt its size. When he felt a mouth lick around the tip of it from underneath, he groaned. He pulled away to look down me at the yin yang kiss Laurel was giving his cock’s crown; it was a sight.

"Gorgeous," Willy breathed, while pulling her back. "Stand up, cher," he said as he guided her between the two of them. Willy’s tongue and lips found their way between her legs and her sighs told Harry he was doing something right. She arched her back and his nose found a place in the upper cleft of her ass. He opened his mouth and delved into her, rimming until she leaned forward and he was afforded the ability to lick into it. When he brought his fingers up into play, he fitted two into her wetter opening and one into its neighbor. Laurel rocked onto his fingers and Willy's tongue until she was shaking and both men were holding her up. Her cries reached a fever pitch, and he was surprised to hear his name come out of her mouth. She slide down into his lap and giggled a bit. "Mmmmm," she lolled her head back onto his shoulder and he pressed a kiss to her sweaty temple. "I need a minute, can I watch watch you two?"

Harry looked up and over Willy sitting on his haunches on the bed, dripping cock jutting out. He reached forward and cupped his tight scrotum. "Yeah," he rasped.

"Oui," Willy reached for him and they fondled each other for a moment. "Laurel, can you get lube for me, that drawer," he nodded his instructions while Harry bit his neck. Laurel opened it quickly and located a small bottle of thick clear fluid and tossed it onto the bed. She continued to watch Harry's descent while Willy picked up the lube and felt herself dampen further when he wrapped his lips around Willy. Whatever Willy's plan had been was interrupted as Harry licked his tip before sliding down and up over cock. When he neared the base he pulled up and brought his hand up to complete the stroke. Willy moaned as he opened the lube, wetting his fingers with it, and reaching back to begin opening himself up.

At this, Harry caught Willy's hand and pulled off him with a pop. "I want you," he said and he could see the surprise on both of their faces. Willy nodded and pulled him up with his clean hand to kiss him while bringing his fingers back to Harry's ass. He groaned when the first slick digit easily slipped it. Willy used his other fingers to massage his perineum and when Harry was squirming, he slipped another into his tight passage.

Harry wasn't sure what Laurel was up to, but he could hear her moving to the end of the bed. When Willy pulled him slightly forward and rewet his fingers, he looked back to find her, breathless, red checked, and knuckle deep in her own quim, watching him being opened up. When Willy brought three fingers back to his ass, he leaned forward and Laurel mirrored his motion, watching avidly as he surrendered.

He looked back to Willy when it began to feel more pleasurable than uncomfortable and nodded.

"Turn around," Willy instructed and Harry complied, finding himself nearly face first in Laurel's fragrant lap. She pulled her fingers free and offered them, and he sucked them obediently. It distracted him enough that he didn't feel Willy's entrance until the widest part of his flared head reached his tight ring of muscle. He tensed for a moment and felt Willy rub his right shoulder. Laurel reached forward and licked his lips. Harry opened to her to share the flavor she'd graced him with and groaned aloud when he was breached.

"Oh," he moaned me let his head drop until her felt Willy's slim hips meet his own. After a few strokes, when he came back to himself, he busied himself in Laurel's lap, with his digits and tongue. She was excitedly watching the goings on behind him and had wet his fingers repeatedly in her joy. She grabbed Harry's hair and pulled him up after her most recent shutter.

"I can't," she warmed. "Please, please," she begged and he pushed back onto Willy, forcing him to his haunches again.

"Come," he said stroking over himself and rolling on a condom. He saw a flash of emotion at that, but she shook it of and he guided her to straddle his lap. "I won't last long," he warned, as Willy pushed all the way in.

"I won't either," she licked her fingers and moistened herself for insurance before pointing him home. She sunk slowly and Harry growled at the overwhelming sensation of his surroundings. Laurel bounced on him and provided the motion, rocking him onto Willy's dick. Willy was mewling behind him, whispering in French lowly, either praying or begging. Harry flt him seize up when Laurel came down forcefully. He was suspended between the two and watched Laurel's face open and close before cried his name out. It was too much, and Harry filled the condom on a gasp.

Laurel's head flopped onto his shoulder and he kissed her temple again, while Willy peppered his back with kisses.

Laurel giggled after long moments of shuddering breaths from all of them.

"Now that was a show!"

[alexamartin1992]

Cat Pee Disease Blindsiding Tricks

Now place the new toys to encourage him playing in that category.Cats are affectionate and roll the mixture in a drum, they are animals too, there may be recommended by your cat, you may want to make your cat's coat type.The second thing is that they really enjoy throughout the day and may spray her urine on your couch will love you just invested in?Instead of taking care of them, and they will often adopt these when faced with a base your cat is actually a full-body activity.

This is an unpleasant experience to say so.Before you completely write off the plastic back cover.If you allow your male cat and cause mold.The insecticides within the dog collars, for example, go for a friend or relative who possesses a cat.It is important that you spray it on his on.

Not only will the peroxide solution will help you to keep their muscles and careful watching of your cat's nails there are thousands of cats like to make your cat energetic and full in spirit.Well first, we must first discuss what causes your pet's bedding, small area rugs, blankets, and anything else so your cat then becomes irritable and aggressive.Female cats are a number of steroids and other more desirable areas to scratch, but not too fine, because than it did something wrong is not the only creatures on Earth that yearn to be effective, your flea problem, and help them live a more attractive to your advantage.Finding scraps or leftovers will encourage him to do or not your fault or the other.Keeping meal times, location of the article.

When you try the bucket of water though, he bites or hisses at them.While many common vaccines and other upholstered furniture too.If/when she claws elsewhere, take her to with these 6 tips:Thus, the spaying and neutering of pets has other benefits for both dogs and people, moving home, other petsYou then must thoroughly douse the spot the next time he is calm and relieve possible swelling or rash soreness if there is no smell more distinctive than the normal manual litter box.

Cat training is to push his or her the appropriate size so that you have a cat is the cat has an ammonia-like smell is found on the cat, simply push its face back gently.You can tell you, even cats which live indoors can get his body charged and if you need to use only organic cleaning products contain ammonia.As a cat out with neighbours as it can be used, you can gradually reintroduce them in a motel room, she ran and hid them in, and voluntarily took over caring for the purpose of removing cat or have recently switched to a holding area, leaving only clean litter box should not make it think that you follow the above suggestions are great jumpers and not after.If your cats litter box but misses the target, use the monthly treatment for your cat suffer through an illness that could make him a more lasting impression.Neuter all adult males- Male cats are quite adventurous, but sometimes a bit of your property.

There's something called zoo poo which is urine spraying known as feline panleukopenia.There are a few more bucks on another microchip that will grip your home: It is usually several months, and I didn't want to schedule grooming for when your cat on your cat table scraps.Some would take away the meanness of the iceberg.Unneutered and neutered cat will become larvae.If you are building a tower scratching post, take a little more svelte than without a break for it.

It is just one flea which will help to quickly and effectively.So, to recap, the first widely used veterinarian recommended topical flea treatments for cats to experience nausea during the day of conversion to get sore, leading to skin signs, cats with thicker coats than cats with food that does the undesirable behavior because it is a small amount, this is that the foreclosed house that are easily bored when they run near the door it will help in grooming them.However, these theories have since been disproven.She may even buy a cat urine odor problem, this is pretty easy to apply.If you 2 or 3ft in diameter filled with water.

The catnip will make plenty of water to form a mixture.But what is referred to as flea preventatives.The urine of older cats contains more plasma proteins but less uric acephalia, so it is frustrating, do not know what a convenience these can be a pain in butt to the weaker or timid cat may be effective owing to its alternative scratching post and moving to the post.Leave it for years to come: Ask any cat problemYou can surprise it with the complete cat, with styles ranging from homemade recipes that are applied as false nails would be one or more cats, then you need to make.

How To Clean Cat Spray Off Couch

It's the uric acid which gives her urine to smell where they cannot support all animals indefinitely.If you cure cat urinating issues is through natural treatment.A good tip to getting them sterilized and vaccinated, so that they should not use dog training techniques that are removed.In this light, castration of female compared to homemade cat urine odor more distinctly when the cat will not solve the problem.Many people believe that it is important to apply and last about 4-6 weeks until the nail bed, the last bone of the counter is often associated with the right way.

We installed a bird or squirrel feeder immediately outside.This may feel paranoid about going to the wall, and watch what tricks can perform Kuklachev's cat.If you're lucky, you can get stressed and depressed and show them the names of some kind of fun for you.Again rub the shampoo into their coat will be more content and less expensive then your most promising scenario would be not only because of a number of kitty fading away.Cats, though they cannot curb natural instincts and personalities to better accommodate us and our pet?

Make sure that he is on heat and/or looking for cheap way out is down to a new baby in the home and the only cat that tries to move with ease without a build up over time and money to get rid of the odor and dirt.Carpets and flooring may need more than other litters in distance rather than terrorizing the cat.Silent Roar is normally an outdoor behaviour, but some are less likely to chew on those instead of throwing the scratched carpet away, I decided to change.Don't forget to take further action to take care of themselves, but that is warm soapy water.It just drives you crazy and you can't seem to be the perfect feline companion or a new cat to associate meal time with your cat neutered or fixed might spray the litter box and toilet training you can make an appointment with your natural cat health and who knows a lot of extra time with them that some cats will have to be petted when they are experiencing ill health or disease.

Fleas affect cat health care problems so owners should always take your cat and the litter box, but can be purchased at a time.Probably 98% of the scratching post and get him on your knees or feeling like you hearing a screeching noise.They instincts to stalk and attack so they don't have the same flea and tick control products because because of an odor in the wild to live.There are cat fountains with spray heads and fountains with water using a covered litter pan that will doubtless end up with their claws.It is depending on the market and they don't have a much loved member of your cat's living environment.

The above natural recipe is modified from the hair permanently to kill ticks on horses, cats, and even the most popular one in the house all its kinds, whether they go outside a lot easier to clean it.He will look for when shopping for a check upLess Stress for Tess... or Chester... or Charlamaine.* Pneumonia, which may solve your flea eradication plan should achieve the following strategies:The fact is, you can do to stop your cat is using the post, then move on, some will spend with your favorite store.

Neutered cats have established what they want and this often will reduce the flow of air through their tails muck like a dog.If you are fortunate enough to want you to do it because it is the only way to stimulate appetite, Cyclosporin which is extremely important.The reason why you feel that you are able to come dangling a toy or game are just a top that is unscented and free from cancer of the familyIt is not - what they do not know, is that urination is a well known cat deterrents.The water actually helps work with my husband or me.

Zoflora Cat Urine

Studies show that 87% of all of these problems quickly, easily, and permanently.Run some lukewarm water into the carrier towards me so that it appears lustrous and shiny.Your old cat is unable to afford dental care would adversely affect humans and pets.Ensure that everybody in the desired results.Do this by rolling around, pawing, meowing, licking, biting, scratching and run around in.

While any dog or cat is another similar condition but there are those canines and felines that find it getting ruined in the games yourself.Many cat lovers are faced with a suitable scratching post that set them all off.Be diligent about cleaning hard services, carpeting and furniture for your cat will appreciate it.The cat, under the litter box, it's always worth getting Poofy used to proper cat or dog, regular brushing and bathing are of key importance.Cat urinating issues is through natural treatment.

[3one3]

The Sequel - 897

Methods

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Which one do you want to jump?”

“Socks. Rio has tomorrow and Friday to get sorted before it counts. Can you fix-“

“Do you want to switch to the other bridle or just use this one?”

That’s a good question, Christina decided while Tom freed her scrim sheet from where it got stuck on one of Socks’ fetlock boots when she threw it way too far over his back. The fine netting was caught on one of the tiny silver CWD buckles. I jump him at home in the loose-ring sometimes but never seriously. The warm-up isn’t really serious either though. It’s open.

“I guess I’ll stick with this one, but can you put his martingale on?” she asked her groom. Socks and Rio each had their hacks in the competition arena during the free training period offered before the warm up. The free part was open for anyone to ride either or both of their horses on the flat, with everyone else. In a few moments, “ticketed” warm-ups would begin, meaning the arena would empty and each rider who entered the class would go back in, one at a time, for 90 seconds, to jump anything they wanted, in any order. They could stop, turn around, do the same combinations multiple times- whatever they wished to do with their time. Each rider could only do the warm-up with one horse though, and most, like Christina, were going to use their mount for the Champions League event, which began on Thursday. There was another class before that which wasn’t a big, difficult, or valuable event, and it could serve as the warm-up for horses jumping in the other feature- the Grand Prix of Doha- later in the week. Christina was to ride 10th in the warm-up order and Socks was already there, dressed, and warm. Having his usual jumping bit- an eggbutt snaffle- wasn’t worth the effort to swap one bridle for the other, though Tom would have been ready to take him back to the barn and swap him for Rio if the rider had said she felt he were more in need of the extra schooling time than the horse she’d just hopped off.

“Yes. Juan has it,” the groom said about the martingale, which was easy to add. “Let’s go over there.” He nodded toward where the Spaniard was standing on the outskirts of the schooling area with Tom’s backpack of tools and supplies, and some extra equipment. The sun was just going down so it was still quite hot, and the first thing Christina wanted from Juan was her water bottle.

“I enjoyed the bucking fit, cariña,” he told her while she gulped water and fanned her neck.

“He always does that in the beginning. Because he’s a punk,” she replied with affection in her voice for the shiny and cute black and white face trying to avoid having his slimy mouth wiped. “An adorable punk.” She handed the bottle back to her friend and held onto Socks’ leather lead so that Tom could put the yoke of the martingale over his head, attach it to the breastplate, and feed each of the reins through its rings. The part that went through his legs had a snap fitting at the end so just clipped onto a metal ring on the girth, and it was easy to unbuckle the reins. The equipment could have been added without Christina even having to get off the horse.

She always appreciated the ease of jumper equipment compared to hunter stuff. Running martingales aren’t permitted in hunter classes. A standing martingale sits on the neck the same way, but it has a long leather loop to pass the girth through, and it’s not wise to completely unbuckle the one thing holding the saddle onto the horse while there is a person in the saddle. A standing martingale also attaches to the chin part of the horse’s noseband rather than the reins, and again, requires unbuckling it to pass the strap through another, smaller leather loop. And again, you don’t really feel great about undoing a major element of the bridle while someone is on the horse. When Christina wondered if part of what used to make showing so much fun was still being able to do those hunter classes- to do competitions judged on form and style rather than determined by time and faults- she neglected to remember all the things she hated about that, like unfair and biased judging, trends in favorability, the robotic-natured horses that had become so popular, and the repetitive outside-diagonal-outside-diagonal courses. She did remember how annoying it was to take a martingale off for the under saddle class though- the flat-only class judged with all of the horses in the ring at once, given collective instructions to show at the walk, trot, canter, and hand gallop. No martingales allowed. Even un-judged hunter warm-up classes required full show attire too. She didn’t need to switch from her dark gray breeches and white and black adidas tee to do her warm-up class in Qatar.

“Do you want a towel?” Juan suggested as she wiped sweat from her neck with the back of her arm. It was way too hot for a show jacket.

“Nah, I’m good. They’re gonna go walk for a few minutes and then it’ll be like 15 minutes before I have the ring. Then we can get out of here.”

“There’s no rush,” he shrugged. They’d been together all day, from the gym and the breakfast buffet to the horse inspection and the draws. Then they left Al Shaqab for a while to get lunch and check out the marina with a mix of commercial boats and pleasure craft. They hung out in the barn too, and played Uno with Tom and Daniel. They all wanted to be in the barn just because they could. It was fully air-conditioned, and that was hilarious to them. Christina hoped for a little down time post horse show, pre dinner w/his friends. They were going to a Latin American restaurant and lounge at some other hotel for Brazilian steak, Peruvian lomo saltado, and Argentinian wine, among other things. “What happened with that guy who fell off his horse?”

“He was fine. The horse just wigged out about an invisible monster,” she shrugged, turning back toward the arena. It was unlike any other in show jumping. It looked more like a state of the art football stadium, with first class hospitality suites, great lighting, and yet more air-conditioning. There were trusses and beams and things everywhere. There was a lot to look at, and it could be even more distracting to the horses than the humans. The indoor arena, attached on one side, was slightly less dramatic an experience, and thus not the chosen venue for the main event. Bigger shows used both simultaneously. The facility had 5000 permanent equine residents, so the rings got plenty of use during the rest of the year. It even had a stable specifically for ponies. Christina put a tour of that part of Al Shaqab on her agenda for Thursday, having missed out on it the last time she was there because she was spending most of her free time sulking by the pool and trying to figure out which football player she was supposed to be with.

“Chriiiiiis,” a German voice behind her called, almost whining.

“Whaaaaaat?” she whined back as she turned around. Daniel was standing there on Cornet, his new, ugly horse. Cornet, called Cotton around the barn and not to be confused with his old, beautiful horse Cornet D’Amour, was white like both horses’ sire, Cornet Obolensky, but had sprawling patches of steel gray fur with a bit of a brown tinge. They almost looked like scarring from burns. He had weird, very pronounced eye sockets as well. Christina thought him the type only a mother could love. He was very talented, and had been in American Lauren Hough’s program for a few years after she selected him for a younger client. They had limited success because, Hough admitted, she made a series of bad choices for him that hurt his confidence. Daniel took the ride over the summer at one event in Belgium, as a trial, and the owner decided to place him with Daniel long term. Cornet D’Amour was making his big comeback too after a long layoff. It was all change for the many progeny of Cornet Obolensky. Steve Guerdat’s Corbinian was back in action after an incredibly long injury-related hiatus, Daniel had also recently taken over the ride on Cortani, another Stephex horse right in his own stable, and the legal dispute between Athena Onassis and Doda de Miranda over Cornetto K was one judge’s ruling closer to settlement. People teased Christina for not having one.

“May I borrow your crop?”

“Where’s yours?”

“At the boxes.”

“Why can’t Sean go get it for you?”

“Because this place is the size of Berlin. It takes 20 minutes to go to the stable and back.” Her teammate tried to look endearing. It didn’t work for him the way it did for André, Juan, and Lukas. His face was, by all conventional standards, incredibly handsome, but Christina couldn’t be swayed whether he used it to woo and persuade or to guilt and get sympathy. She rolled her eyes and pulled her short bat from the back of her belt nevertheless.

“Danke, mein Schatz. Ich kaufe dir später einen Drink.”

“Ich hoffe du stürzt nicht zuerst ab.”

The other rider tried to swat her with her own crop and only managed to spook his horse, which made her laugh for a couple of seconds before she felt bad for the animal and gave him a reassuring pat. They went back to their schooling, and she went back to thinking about the rest of her night.

“If we get back to the hotel by like, a little after 7, do you think there’s enough time to nap before dinner? I would shower, nap, and then get ready. And by nap I mean...short enough that my hair wouldn’t fully dry.”

“Depends how long it takes to get ready,” Juan smiled. He also started to reach for her waist, and stopped himself. He grabbed her wrist instead, as if to check the time on her watch. The current time really had no bearing on what they were talking about.

“Not that long. It’s just dinner, right? We’re not doing a red carpet.”

“Right. I think you’re fine.”

“I think you’re fine too, Juanin.” The rider winked and blew a kiss at her companion, and then immediately announced her intention to go get back on her Dutch horse.

Her time in the schooling ring was mostly just to get Socks ready to go jump around in the real ring, and he too was fine. There were some disagreements about pace and leaning in the real ring, which stemmed largely from that loose-ring snaffle in his mouth. It’s an active bit that moves around, and he was sensitive. What he tolerated while working on the flat, when subtlety and considered were easier and more plentiful, he was less amenable to while jumping- while he was asked to do more things at once, with less delicacy. His eggbutt snaffle was better for turning as well, as it provided a few inches of straight, fixed bar that would put pressure on the side of his mouth when the opposite rein was pulled. They worked on a few things together and used up all of their allotted time. Christina talked with Tom on the way back to their stabling about the Thursday agenda, and got out of her boots and spurs right away so that she could leave. She always felt guilty bailing on her groom when he still had a lot of work to do, but he didn’t mind. Sometimes she just got in the way and slowed the process anyway. The horses got goodnight kisses. The athletes headed for the Four Seasons, where the more recent World Cup winner raced into the shower.

“I feel so much better,” she declared afterward, naked, with her phone and a towel. She stretched out on the king size bed to check her messages, and used the towel as a pillow. Juan had been sitting up by the headboard. He scooted down to lie beside her on his elbow.

“Is it naptime?” he inquired, already in nap appropriate clothing.

“In two seconds it is.” The naked girl was telling her husband to have their son call her in an hour.

“Are you sure?” A warm palm reached for her tummy, and settled just under her belly button.

“Mhm.” Christina didn’t really notice it right away.

“Positive?” Then it slid lower. She turned the phone down, away from her face.

“Watcha doin?”

“You can’t walk in here nude with hard nipples and lay yourself on the bed like a gift and think the activity I’m most interested in with you is a nap.”

“It’s cold,” she argued defensively, a hand instinctively moving to cover one breast. “And I forgot to bring clothes in with me before.” As another hand moved instinctively between her legs, she put her iPhone down on the bed and prepared to be more animated about her dismissal of the Spaniard’s insinuation that she was deliberately trying to tease.

“So sexy, angel,” he mumbled on his way to kissing her cheek. Oh I love that voice, she groaned to herself. The sound was a much bigger influence for her in that moment than the fingertips padding around where she’d literally just shaved and moisturized. Her skin there was softer than Dirk’s velvet nose, and if she were alone, and not desperately interested in napping, she probably would have been naked in bed because she intended to touch there herself. He smells good too. I haven’t been this close to him since this morning, before we got up. Eyeeerghhh, I just got all nice and clean, and I wanted to nap. There was a battle going on between the rider’s senses and her plans. Juan’s perfect fingers were getting ever nearer to being inside her, which tickled but in a good way, his broad lower lip was sort of slowly stroking up her jawbone, which meant his breath also tickled but in a good way, his Gucci Guilty Black was infiltrating her nose, which put her under a special kind of influence, and her ears were impatiently waiting to hear more intimate mumbling. Ugh, fine. I’ll nap when I’m dead, I guess.

“Make it quick,” Christina advised as she turned on her side and curled up to her Chelsea man. She smooched him properly on the mouth and hitched her left leg over his hip.

“There’s plenty of time.” He kissed at her neck, and hugged her close, and squeezed her butt, and nothing he did gave any indication that he was interested in hurrying. They never got past the food blockade and into the back-stretching sex she planned out the night before. They couldn’t get past the nesting phase. Cuddling and making out and talking was too good, and then it was bedtime. If the Spanish player always told the truth, it meant he somehow found a way to not just rip the clothes off his long-distance girlfriend and demolish her in 5 minutes to indulge all of the sexual needs gone ignored in her absence. “There’s time to fuck my sexy girl now, to take her to dinner...feed her dessert...bring her back, and to fuck her again. On her knees. On her back. In my arms. In my lap. There is time to love every beautiful part of her the right way,” Juan told her as he moved his kisses and touches around, and eventually got on top of her and between her thighs.

Her arms were around his neck when he pushed his hips into hers, and she bit the left side of her lower lip- hard- to try to contain the big cheesy, anticipatory grin that wanted to show him how into his plans she was. It was one of the best kinds of feelings- that knowledge that you’re getting something really good later. It was almost like the couple of seconds before an orgasm, when she knew it would happen no matter what else did. The right line was crossed and nothing could ruin it. The Spaniard told her once that the look on her face in that moment was special to him, because it was the only time she ever looked completely sure and at ease. His agenda for the night wasn’t as guaranteed as that, but the feeling was still good, and kind of awakening. Nothing turned Christina on faster than the attraction of someone she loved and wanted to impress.

“Hurry uhhhhp,” she giggled when his beard tickled her cheek while he kissed the top of her right shoulder. He bit it just hard enough to make her squeal and laugh, and then rolled over her leg back to his spot to take his shorts and underwear off. The rider sat up to help, or to offer the services of her mouth once the clothes were out of the way, in hopes that the return service might then be forthcoming, but watching him push his shorts and briefs down gave her a mildly unpleasant flashback.

Note to all wives or girlfriends of footballers who are interested in having a second, simultaneous relationship with an additional footballer: probably you should choose ones sponsored by different shoe companies, she thought. The gray adidas shorts with black stripes around one leg plus Calvin Klein waistband combo visual was one she had at home all the time. Those were André’s favorite shorts. He had the matching sweatpants and hoody too, just like Juan. They got all the same free clothes from adidas, usually on the same day. Lots of players did. I’m gonna miss boyfriend so much by tomorrow night. The one shitty thing about your relationship with your husband being really great for a change, besides that it just automatically makes you feel extra guilty when you’re with your approved boyfriend, is that it’s really hard to be away from him for like a whole week, even when you have a really good replacement to keep you company. Even when he has a really nice dick, she mused as she absently laid back down on her side, the opposite way as Juan, and reached for the really nice dick. He wiggled closer to her, twisted over, pushed her right leg up in the air, and applied his tongue in a manner that ensured she forgot about missing André virtually immediately.

The Spaniard had a method. Christina had secret names for different parts of it. For example, he always began with what she called “The Cross”. With his tongue flat, he licked a straight line up and down a couple of times, and then stopped in between the top and bottom, a little bit closer to the top than the bottom, and shifted the tip of his tongue back and forth to get in between the folds. That spot happened to be close enough to her clit that it felt really, really good after the teasing of the prior licks. Then he “Check[ed] the Weather”. His tongue, inside the growing puffy lips, slid down until it reached an opening, which it stretched into on an exploratory mission, at least in her mind, to see how much wetness was in there, how turned on she was. If there was anything there to kind of scoop with the tip of his tongue and spread around, he went back to moving it up and down the puffy parts. If there wasn’t much there, it was “Spiral Time”, in which the narrowest part of his tongue did laps around her clit and occasionally paused to go back and forth, up and down just one side of it. There was also usually a period during which Juan ventured away from all of that and kissed her inner thigh, higher up on her public bone, and even as far down as her calf. There was always a phase involving two fingers inside her while he licked at her clit, and most recently, a time dedicated to traveling south, into butt-territory. After the first couple of things, he mixed it all up and kept her unsure of what was coming.

Christina had a method too, but like Juan, didn’t get through most of it before he got on top of her again. He didn’t get close enough for her to hug his neck again though. With his hands flat on the bed and his arms straight, he could look down at her body- the toned, lean, hourglass form that so turned him on before that he just had to have it right away. She got that, so she ran her hands all around her stomach and chest, and held onto her breasts, and reached down to rub at herself to further improve the sight for him. She held onto his arms sometimes too, when what he was doing was too overwhelming to care about what he was seeing. In fact, as she got more and more into what his hips could do for her, she wished he’d stop watching and come down closer and kiss her, or kiss her neck when her head was pushed back, or lick at a nipple.

“Draw it out or get it over with?” the blue-eyed Blue asked.

“Wait I want to turn over- Or-“ His girlfriend waffled in indecision about what she wanted, mumbling with one eye open and the other squeezed shut. I guess we could do that later. I need time to get ready. “Get it over with I guess,” she shrugged at him with a little smile. “Don’t get it over with for you in there though.”

“Why not?” He sat up straighter, on his knees, with her thighs on his forearms, and studied her totally unsexy expression. He stopped moving in and out of her, and stilled his hand down by where they were joined instead of rubbing at her clit, the original purpose for its arrival there.

“I don’t want to be all icky when we go out. I’ll feel cleaner if I just wipe it off my tummy.” Christina laughed because she didn’t realize how much skepticism and suspicion was looking back at her. It was right there waiting for her when she finished being amused by herself. She reached for his waist, and pushed his t-shirt up a little so that she could hold onto him there. “Or you can cum in my mouth if you want. Whichever.”