#impish matt

[ardentprose]

Candlelight Candor

A/N: This is the first public one shot I've written in a very long time so bear with me as I find my footing again.

Type: just sweet and simple fluff; Foggy Nelson x reader

Length: 4.8k~ | 20 min

Warnings: cursing; minor suggestive thoughts; fem!reader

Feel free to message me if a necessary warning isn't mentioned.

Summary: the worst storm of the decade, an unreliable old building, and being alone with your crush, Foggy Nelson

Hell hath no fury like a New York Nor’easter. It didn’t matter whether you had grown accustomed to the brutal winters in the city that never sleeps, because each summer lulled you into a false sense of serenity before winter struck again, the sky darkened, and ten inches of snow were threatening to bury the streets.

Any sane person would be hunkered down in their home, buried under an appropriate amount of blankets, and soundly sleeping away the precious hours gifted by the closing of the workplace.

Any sane person not in love, that is.

When you got the call that Karen was trapped north of the city, as the town she was investigating was hit with the storm first, you were tempted to hang up and go back to sleep. But how could you say no to:

“Good morning, sunshine!”

It took an embarrassingly small amount of convincing for Foggy Nelson to coax you from your haven and come to his law firm to lend an extra hand in the last day leading up to a case. The enigmatic lawyer had you wrapped around his finger and he didn’t even know it.

As you tugged on your heavy duty winter coat and forced your triple socked feet into your boots, you dearly wanted to curse the man for taking advantage of your infatuation. Of course, in his mind, he thought you were just a dedicated friend, and while that may be true, it would be more honest to say you were at his beck and call because you were in love with him.

Consequently, you find yourself hunched over a small desk in a small law firm with poor heating, hoping the feeling in your fingers returns.

And that was before the lights went out.

Precarious flames flicker among documents scattered across whatever surface area could be spared. Careful of the two candles flanking your papers - one cinnamon spice and another the supposed ‘scent of rain’ - you hunch lower and squint, trying to make connections between the paragraphs of legal precedents and other such jargon in the wavering light.

You don’t know how much longer you can strain your neck, scrounging every line of text for a loophole or mistype that will get this case thrown out. The ache in your neck grows insistent until you are forced to lift your head and roll your shoulders to appease the pain for a moment. Your eyes, sore from reading in dim light, fall on the lawyer across from you, taking in the welcome sight of him compared to dull printed texts.

Albeit, Foggy sits across from you in a similar position, muttering from down-turned lips as frustration pinches his expression. Occasionally, he heaves a sigh or grunt through clenched teeth as he hits another dead end. Even still, you allow yourself a small smile at how the orange flames cast warmth on his blond locks, causing them to shimmer like spun gold between the shadows.

A prick of alertness wakes you from your dreamy gaze and casting your eyes around you for the sixth sense of being watched, you find the other partner of the firm, Matt Murdock, smiling in your direction as if he could see you.

Your smile falls immediately, though the endeavor is fruitless as your remaining blush gives you away. Despite not having vision, you knew Matt caught you making heart eyes again at your ‘strictly professional legal friend’. It wasn’t the first time Matt sent you an impish smirk or raised his brows in question at your obvious pining. Especially when you laughed too loudly at Foggy’s quips. But what about it? You liked a sense of humor in a man and Foggy Nelson was a comedian in your enamored eyes.

The maddening thing was Matt doesn’t even pause his reading, skirting over lines of Braille with the same urgency as Foggy muttering out paragraphs of legalities.

You roll your eyes and Matt’s grin widens, but you choose to ignore him, checking your wrist watch for the time.

Your glance never makes it to your wrist, but diverges instead to the window when a sudden bang knocks the glass within it’s frame. The forceful wind rattles the glass with vengeance until it settles into an ominous vibrato. It wasn’t the first time that hour, but the three of you jump in your seats all the same.

“For Pete’s sake, this case better be able to fix that goddamn window.” Foggy curses, rubbing a palm over his heart from the abrupt break in silence.

“We have to win the case in the first place.” You lament, heaving a sigh to regain a normal heart rate.   

“We have less than an hour to find a reasonable cause to dismiss this case. But I’m pretty sure I’m reading algebra right now for all the good these candles are doing.”    Foggy groans, tussling his hair into a visible display of his perturbation. Your eyes follow the motion, happy to see something other than poorly lit paper stimulate your vision, though you sympathize with his annoyance.

“Justice never sleeps.” You quip and Foggy matches your wry smile.

“Of course the courthouse is open.” Foggy continues, flipping over another page. “Hell has frozen over but did the courthouse care? Did they reschedule? Of course not! Why indulge the safety of their tax-paying citizens when they could freeze them to death instead?”

“Whoa there, Foggy, is that the hangover talking or just you?” Matt teases, his fingers hesitating over some lines as conversation picks up.

“If anyone is hungover it’s you and your stupid smile that somehow thinks it’s appropriate to make an appearance right now.”

“I’m not the one who suggested shots last night.”

“I’m not the one who drank them all.”

“Hey, I’ve been quiet and well-behaved this entire time.”

“Guys…twenty minutes…” You interrupt, your own sense of justice dwindling by the hour.

You were more than accustomed to the bickering between the two law firm partners. Despite not being a lawyer yourself, your paralegal abilities were usually called into action since being acquainted with Nelson and Murdock over a previous case. You didn’t even work for them, yet you found yourself here more often than your own office. You also found yourself playing referee alongside legal assistance. At this point, you had helped Foggy and Matt win so many cases and stay friends while doing so, that you were an honorary member of the firm.

Foggy flips a page before him, chin resting on his fist. “I say we call the courthouse and tell them we were trapped inside. Couldn’t open the front door cause of all the…”

He squints.

His eyes go wide.

“Fuck! I found the damned thing!”

A groan of relief resounds from Matt and he throws himself back into his swivel chair, spinning to the side slightly. You break into a smile, watching the candlelight twinkle in Foggy’s eyes with his newfound ecstasy.

“Will it help win the case?” You ask, voice soft if only because of your overwhelming affection.

“This piece of evidence - or should I say lack thereof, will get this case thrown out into the nearest dumpster!” Foggy exclaims, meeting your eyes with his own mirth. Your smile grows larger at this revelation.

Matt tilts his head and once more you feel that devil grin, but you refuse to meet his invisible gaze. However, your up-tick in heart rate betrays your fear of a much bigger revelation being exposed by the brunet lawyer.

Matt seems to spare you from your fears, speaking instead of the case at hand.

“Foggy, I don’t know what we’d do without you. I don’t know how I missed such an obvious detail right in front of me.”

As he stands up, Matt compiles his own version of documents into his briefcase.

“What an oversight on my part.”

He grins expectantly.

You throw your head back and groan, then lift your head in order to glare at Matt.

“That’s the last one, Murdock! You’ve hit your ‘blind’ joke quota for today.”

Matt pouts, jerking on his winter pea coat.

“It’s my law firm, I can make as many jokes as I want. Who am I offending?”

“It’s our law firm, buddy.” Foggy comes to your defense. “And your jokes are in poor taste only because they’re not funny.”

“Hey,” Matt lifts the strap over his shoulder and slides out from behind his desk. “I’m funny.”

“Funny-looking.” You tease. Foggy snorts and points the tip of his pen at you in approval. You bite your lip to keep your grin from spreading into ‘infatuated’ lengths.

“Now, I can’t help that,” Matt gestures to the glasses in his hand before slipping them onto his nose, “given, you know, that I’m-“

“No more!” You point your finger at Matt in warning.

“Alright, jeez. Tough crowd.” Matt grins, still clearly proud of his sense of corny humor.

Before he makes his way to the door, he turns partway to explain his departure.

“I’ll head out first to meet the client early. It’s gonna be hell catching a cab in this storm. Plus the traffic will be worse…you get it.” Matt sighs and snatches his cane from where it rests beside the entryway. He lifts it as a form of dismissal.

“Good idea. I’ll revise our argument first then head over. It shouldn’t take more than a few quick amendments.” Foggy says.

Matt nods and turns to leave.

You turn back to clean up your work, but your head snaps up when you hear Matt fall against the door.

“Are you okay?” You blurt as Matt pushes himself upright on the door.

“I misjudged the space between myself and the door.” He chuckles. “Can’t see anything with the lights out.”

“Leave.”

You turn your back on Matt and his snickering.

“I don’t know how you put up with him.” You say once he’s gone and Foggy rolls his eyes in similar exasperation.

“I’ve learned to stop questioning my life choices when it comes to Matt.”

You laugh, humming in agreement. You lift your gaze to hand Foggy the collected papers across the desk and find his eyes already on you.

Before you can contemplate why his eyes take their time traveling down your face to your outstretched hand, the his easy smile lowers into contemplation once he accepts the papers. He licks his lips and begins scribbling down notes with fervor. Now that the essential information has been found, you’re left with nothing else to do but leave it in the capable hands of the brilliant lawyer before you.

Before you realize it, you’re in a candlelight-induced trance, watching Foggy’s eagle sharp gaze flit back and forth. A small, petty part of you wishes his eyes held the same concentration on you instead of the paperwork. You knew from experience how nice it was to have Foggy’s attention on you.

Meeting Foggy Nelson was like the sun breaking through the clouds after a rainstorm. He had come into your life with undeniable presence and charm, which mostly stemmed from how Foggy was unapologetically himself in all contexts. He didn’t put on the airs of the egotistical disposition that many lawyers were known to have.

That’s not to say he didn’t speak up whenever he found himself in an immoral situation,  but more often than not, Foggy reserved his speeches for retelling the repertoire of stories he loved to share with those who spared him an ear. You, always a listener at heart, and therefore his dedicated audience, were usually in hysterics by the end of his theatrics.

Foggy never just told a story. No, he incorporated gestures, voices and facial expressions that brought the characters - real or not - to life. Karen and Matt had heard every story ten times over, but being the newest addition to the friend group, you took in every detail as if there was going to be an exam.

It was his larger-than-life personality that drew you in, but it was his quiet observations that captivated you. Foggy never used his social prowess to embarrass others - Karen and Matt excluded - only ever making himself the butt of jokes. If he teased you, it was only to tease you out of your shell. His questions were genuine and his gaze, reading your body language and expressions, hung on to every answer you offered him.

The first real conversation you had with him, he asked you about your background.

“So what gods - sorry, Matt, God - above orchestrated for you to be doomed with us as friends?” He asked, curiosity making his sincerity clear.

You told him your abridged life story - including the small role you felt you played, despite it being your own life. Foggy’s smile had waned into a wrinkled line and when you finished he looked at you as if you had just admitted to being from another planet.

“You are the sweetest person I know, with a beautiful heart, and I don’t think you know it. But the rest of us sure do.” His eyes sought yours long enough to ensure you believed his sincerity, then he quickly moved on to throw a jibe at Matt,, and the conversation returned it’s levity. You, however, were left reeling from his compliment.

And absolutely in love.

Doomed, more like. You muse, halting the trip down memory lane before you fell down the well-trodden path of self-doubt and hatred. You have been around long enough to hear stories of the women Foggy had dated, slept with, or fantasized about being with. You didn’t think you made the cut. You had no reason to. Foggy was an extraordinary friend but that didn’t qualify you to wish he did more than friendly things to you.

You focus back in where your eyes had taken the opportunity to stare at Foggy fingering the edges of documents while twirling a pen in his other hand. He settles the pen between his soft, pink lips, tapping it before he bites the cap, completed focused on the phrasing of his task.

A hair falls between his eyes, causing him to wrinkle his nose into an unbearably cute expression.

You send the chair stumbling backwards when you stand, and that focused gaze flies to you.

“I…um..I am��What time is it? I think we should start to head over.” You attempt to clarify.

Foggy removes the writing utensil from his teeth as his eyes analyze your abrupt movement. You feel exposed the longer he stares and start to grow nervous he somehow could hear your wayward thoughts about the dexterity of his fingers.

“Yeah…good call.” Foggy clears his throat. He stands up to gather his things and you step forward to help him.

Handing him a file, his fingers brush the back of your knuckles and your eyes flutter in response.

Cheeks warm despite the cold, you turn from Foggy and set about blowing out all the candles until you’re both left in the dark.

You walk to the door and rest your hand on the doorknob. Turning your wrist, you pull the doorknob out the socket.

Wait.

What?

You glance down at your hand.

“What the hell?” A sense of dread fills you.

“What’s wrong?” Foggy asks, immediately reacting to your alarmed tone.

When you don’t respond, he navigates his way around the desk and chairs in the dark to come to your aid.

You turn back to the door and stare at the vacant hole with consternation until you feel Foggy’s chest brush your left shoulder.

“What happened?”

The weight of the doorknob feels condemning in your palm. Foggy leans down, squinting through the dark. His cheek is inches from yours, his height enshrouding you as he peers at your hands, and any other time your heart would be beating out of your chest.

Well, it was, but for the wrong reason.

“Oh.” He says. “Shit.”

“I have no idea!” You insist before he can even turn his grave expression on you and ask. “I guess the other side of it came loose and just fell off.”

“Well. That’s just fantastic.” Foggy hooks his index in the hole and tugs hard. The door jiggles with his attempts but holds fast.

“So we’re locked in our own office?” you conclude.

Foggy growls in frustration. He stalks back over to the desk, muttering curses to himself.

“Perfect. Just perfect. Of course…worst day of my life…”

Foggy pats his waist down, pulls out his phone, and then hits the first speed dial button.

“Hey, Matt.” He says sharply. “…Yeah, the fucking handle fell off the door.”   

Morose, you glance down at the knob still in your palm.

“No, I don’t- Y/N turned the knob and it just fell off!….Yeah, I already did that.”

Foggy sighs, hums in affirmation before his shoulders drop.

“You sure? Yeah…ugh…fine yeah, okay.”

Matt must have asked for the new evidence Foggy was supposed to bring, you assume, as Foggy proceeds to explain the needed information and confirm Matt understood it all.

“Good luck, buddy. Don’t lose.”

Foggy hangs up, ceasing his pacing. His hand runs through his now tangled locks then drops to his waist. He looks at you with resignation.

“Matt says he can handle the case by himself. It’s not a full blown hearing so…he’ll come back as soon as he can. The case has already started so he doesn’t have time to run back here.”

“Oh.” The prickling sensation of tears burns behind your eyes. The last thing you want is to ever be the cause of Foggy’s stress. Hell, you spend most of your time trying to be as valuable to him as possible.

Foggy searches around him until he finds matches. He lights the nearest candle and then sits down behind his desk.

He frowns once he sees you haven’t moved from your tense stance near the entrance.

“Hey.”

Your eyes flit to his face and find Foggy smiling at you with his recognizable optimism. The kind of smile that feels like he’s sharing a secret joke with you. He drags your previous chair around the desk, beside his.

“C’mere and sit back down. We have at least three hours before Matt returns.”

You hum in assent, still clutching the doorknob as you make your way over.

Coming around the desk, Foggy’s hand darts out, shielding your hip from the sharp corner when you almost don’t clear it.

You jump at his fingers against your waist. Foggy jerks back just as quickly, his grimace apparent.

“Sorry! I didn’t want you to run into it. That corner in particular bruises like a bitch.”

You laugh, hoping the airy chuckle doesn’t betray how his fingertips ignited a reaction far from displeased within you.

“I appreciate it. And I assume you’re speaking from experience?” You sit down. Your knee brushes his, tingling with proximity. You’ve never had a reason to sit so close to Foggy before, even in the booths at bars, and without the light, you sense more than see his presence within your personal space.

Foggy snorts. “Yeah, of course. Matt does it all the time.”

“Oh, so you have practice holding his waist too?” You don’t know where this brazen energy arises from, but you blame it on the intimacy of being secluded in the office with Foggy and your only light source being a small flame that smells of cinnamon.

Foggy’s lips split before curving into a smirk. He narrows his eyes.

“Are you accusing me of making a grab at you?”

You shake your head frantically.    “No! Sorry, that was stupid. I-“

Foggy laughs, waving your apology away.

“I would hope you think more highly of me to at least buy you dinner first.” He reasons, pursing his mouth into an easy smile.

You bite your lip, eyes widening at the suggestion. Was he serious? Or were you letting your feelings cloud an obvious joke?

“Of course I think highly of you, Foggy.” You say, settling into the chair. You set the doorknob on the desk. Your brow furrows as it reminds you of how Foggy was trapped here with you instead of at the courthouse winning the case he’s worked so hard on.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“Seriously, don’t feel bad about the door. This whole shitty place is falling apart.” Foggy gestures vaguely around him. Foggy must have mistaken your silence as guilt. He’s correct in assuming so, but why did he have to read you so damn well?

“No, I know…I just feel bad for you because you deserve to be in that courtroom.”

“Ah, don’t sweat it. Matt’s got it handled. I’m sure they prefer the handsome lawyer down there anyways. Case will go in our favor that way.” He chuckles.

“Handsome?” You frown, not getting the punchline.

His eyes flicker over your face as if to gage how serious you are being.

Foggy shrugs. “Out of the two of us, Matt’s the better lawyer, both in the legal department and looks department.” His half-hearted laugh fails to win you over.

“That isn’t- that’s not true.” You stumble over your words, because it would be foolish to deny the attention the brunet lawyer garners on a consistent basis. However, you weren’t about to accept Matt’s good looks at the cost of denying Foggy’s attractive features either.

Foggy snorts. He shakes his head, hair brushing his shoulders as he does so and you’re overcome with an intense need to make him realize just how important he is to everyone. To you.

“Foggy, you’re incredible to watch in action.”

Foggy’s frown is near comical with his exaggerated pout. You lean in, determined to convince him.

“Foggy, you’re a hell of a good lawyer, too. If Matt is so talented then he wouldn’t partner with someone who wasn’t on his level. The two of you have your own firm. Matt’s not your boss. He’s your equal. That goes for the ‘looks’ department as well. You’re an attractive, generous, compassionate lawyer and it’s a privilege to work with you.”

Foggy’s expression is unreadable as he listens to you rant. His eyes search your face, flitting back and forth with thoughts known only to him. His brow falters slightly and you fear he’s uncomfortable with your impromptu speech.

But eventually, that full mouth of his turns upwards.

Unfortunately, the smile he wears accompanies a glimmer in his eye that makes you lean back into your own chair.

Foggy follows you, invading your breathing space with the heady scent of his aftershave and a hint of shampoo akin to vanilla.   

“What other traits do I possess?”

All at once you realize how revealing your compliments are. Blooming crimson, you attempt a verbal retreat that Foggy has no intention of allowing.

“Oh, um…I didn’t-I just mean…”

“C’mon, tell me! Attorney client privilege.” Foggy winks, his grin upheld and only growing bolder as he rests his cheek on his fist, full attention on you now.

Well, you did wish for that.

“Technically, to be your client I would need to pay you first.” You throw out, if only to prolong the inevitable corner of confession he was backing you into.

“Aha! So you do learn a thing or two around this office. I’ll only charge you five bucks.” Foggy retorts easily enough.

“I don’t have money on me, but since you’ve been known to accept fruit baskets, would you accept other forms of payment?”

“What do you have in mind?” Foggy’s grin is downright devious.

Your eyes widen as you effectively have backed yourself into the corner you were trying to avoid.

A nervous laugh bubbles from your racing heart as you shake your head, waving your hand too for good measure.

“Nothing! I’m kidding, Foggy.”

“Blood money? Was it blood money?”

“No?…No, it was a stupid joke.”

“Tell me.” Foggy sits up, his demeanor becoming serious.

“Please?” He whispers.

You chew on your lower lip, trying to swallow down the thundering of your heart as silence permeates the dimly lit atmosphere between you two.

Maybe it’s the influence of the warm fire painting Foggy’s gaze in such a soft, accepting light, as if he already knows what you’re thinking - or is even feeling it too. Maybe it’s the months of holding back the truth from someone you would tell anything to in a heartbeat. Maybe it’s the hope that ultimately outweighs the anxiety that causes you to admit it.

No longer do the candles, blizzard, or darkness feel like a hindrance. Now they feel intimate, cozy, and warm.

Romantic.

“I was gonna say…something super corny like, “just my undying affection.” You feel like an idiot, grimacing with the confession.

Your eyes dare to check Foggy’s expression, knowing he’s probably gonna reel back in aversion.

Instead, Foggy scoffs, shaking his head slightly. “You’re affection? Jeez, now that’s nowhere near corny.” He purses his lips and his hair brushes his cheek as he shakes his head.

“Earning your attention, let alone your affection - damn, I would win a hundred cases for you, guaranteed!”

You want to blame the playful words as an excuse to ignore the sincerity in his tone, but your body reacts before you can, heart leaping with a thrill of joy and your lips begging for more.

“Guaranteed?”

“Nothing drives a man like his unwavering passion for the woman he adores.”

You must look crazed, in the throes of shock as your brain tries to process the meaning behind his words. Foggy adores you? Really?

Your mouth continues to take the lead.

“You mean that?”

Foggy lifts his hand in the distance between you, which is scarce, and hesitates a second before placing his warm hand atop both your hands picking at each other’s fingertips. The weight of his palm and the comfort of his grip squeezes your fretting hands still. You release a soft exhale.

“Y/n, I’ve never been more serious.    I’ve adored every detail of yours since you graced my office.”

You don’t know what to say, so you nod.

You keep nodding until it dawns that your feelings are reciprocated, perhaps more than you dared hope for.

And then you’re smiling, beaming, and still nodding, as Foggy brings the hand up from your grasp and cups your cheek, smoothing his thumb over in a silent hello before he presses his lips to your mouth.

You press in, feeling him wholly as mint overwhelms your senses. Your lips move with his, chin lifting as you chase his mouth and he meets you once more, applying pressure before he withdraws, and releases your bottom lip from his teeth.

You can’t see much in the dark anyways, but right now you can’t see a thing. Only spots that accompany the ringing in your ears. You might be light-headed too.

Your dazed silence breaks when Foggy’s whisper begins to escalate.

“Before I have a heart attack…tell me I didn’t screw this up. If I read it wrong and you were just joking-“

“No, no! It’s just…I can’t believe you like me back.” Your laugh is a soft exhale before a sharp intake of breath.

“This isn’t some ‘lights go out and we’re vulnerable in the dark confession.” Foggy says as he cups your face once more.

“I mean every word I say in the dark.” He kisses you again and you welcome his eager affection before he pulls back. You open your eyes just in time for the lights flicker on with a stumbling hum as the building regains power.

“And the light.” Foggy tacks on to his previous statement.

You snort, biting your lip in vain to stop your giddy smile.

“That was pretty fucking cool timing if you ask me.” He says, the same elated grin on his flushed visage.

“That was, I’ll admit.” You laugh. You run your tongue across your lips, savoring the taste of his kiss.

“I wish someone could have witnessed it.” Foggy continues to rave, basking in your growing smile of amusement.

“I did.”

Matt stands in the doorway with a wicked grin.

“Missing something?” He asks. Your eyes flit down to his hand.

The other side of the doorknob.

Matt waltzes over to the desk, grabs the doorknob, then returns to the entry and slides it back into place.

Your frown deepens when he unpockets a screw. Within ten seconds the door is fixed with a good rattle to test it out.

“Lucky thing the case got canceled. You guys would have been stuck in this room all night.” Matt says, passing you both on his way to his office. Presumably to start the next caseload.

Foggy breaks first, swiveling in his chair to jab a finger at Matt’s retreating back.

“You bastard!”

Matt spins around once he’s behind the door of his office. He gives ample time to leave his smirk on display as he closes the door in a slow, dramatic fashion until it clicks with finality.

And with it, a realization of his strange behavior today.

You gasp.

Matt never left the building.

[onlydylanobrien]

Becoming ‘SNL’: How the ‘Saturday Night’ Cast Captured the Magic of the Not Ready for Prime Time Players

TheWrap magazine: Nicholas Braun, Ella Hunt, Gabriel LaBelle, Kim Matula, Lamorne Morris, Dylan O’Brien and Matt Wood talk playing the most famous ensemble in TV history

In Jason Reitman’s “Saturday Night,” we meet the original Not Ready for Prime Time Players mere minutes before they revolutionize comedy — and television itself — with their live, late-night NBC variety show dreamed up by an inscrutable Canadian named Lorne Michaels. Buzzing with nervous energy, the film tick-tocks through the chaotic final 90 minutes before the first episode of “Saturday Night Live” (which at that point didn’t have the “Live” in its title) hits the air on October 11, 1975.

We see John Belushi (Matt Wood) and Gilda Radner (Ella Hunt) narrowly miss getting crushed by a falling studio light; Dan Aykroyd (Dylan O’Brien) flirt shamelessly with Laraine Newman (Emily Fairn); Jane Curtin (Kim Matula) and Garrett Morris (Lamorne Morris, no relation) bond over feeling sidelined; and Chevy Chase (Cory Michael Smith) announce himself by falling over a trash can and boasting about his manhood. Adding to the mayhem are a beleaguered Jim Henson and an impish Andy Kaufman in full Foreign Man persona (Nicholas Braun plays both). And at the center of it all is Michaels (Gabriel LaBelle), maneuvering through the maelstrom of egos.

After reuniting for TheWrap cover shoot on a crisp fall day in Manhattan, LaBelle, Braun, Hunt, Matula, O’Brien, Smith, Wood and Morris — fresh off his Emmy win for “Fargo” — sat for a lively chat.

You play one of the most famous TV ensembles in history. How did you come together and bond as an ensemble yourselves?

LAMORNE MORRIS Should we say cast camp? [Group nods] You know, we don’t talk about cast camp because it’s a thing between us.

Oh, is it like Fight Club?

MORRIS [Laughs] Jason, in an effort to get everybody to feel more familial, it had to be a setting where we got rid of trailers. There were no separate spaces, really. We had our own little rooms, but they were all in this massive [open space] and we just hung out and played ping-pong and board games and watched TV, things like that. All ’70s-based, by the way. KIM MATULA And it was beautiful. Each room had its own theme. “SNL” was playing nonstop on the TV. Season 1. ELLA HUNT Yeah, it felt like “Groundhog Day” every time you turned up there. GABRIEL LABELLE Ultimately, we’re all in the same position of playing real people and we’re all working on the voice and the walk and we’re all together in that, sharing each other’s nerves and comparing notes. We’re all studying the same period of time so naturally, we just bonded in that.

Gabe, you mentioned how you all played real people. And these particular people are extremely famous. You can’t capture the totality of a person in a movie, especially in an ensemble of this size, so for each of you, what was the most important aspect of your character that you wanted to convey?

MORRIS I would say for Garrett, he told me he just wanted the audience to know that he didn’t quit. He really worked his ass off to become what [the other cast members] were already. He wasn’t a sketch writer. He was a playwright, and this was a medium of entertainment that he wasn’t familiar with. And so it took some time, but he figured it out. And there wasn’t a lot for me to do because Jason [and Gil Kenan] wrote it. It was there, the arc was already written. HUNT I think you’re underselling yourself there. MORRIS No, no, I won an Emmy. I’m good. I know I’m great. [Laughs] HUNT Your custodianship of Garrett, to me, was one of the most beautiful things to witness on this shoot. We have a scene together in the film that happens three quarters of the way through, where Gilda checks in with Garrett, and then he proceeds to share with her all of his many talents. And watching Lamorne, take after take, imbue Garrett further and further into the performance was giddying and really moving.

Who wants to follow that?

MATULA God, that’s a good answer. MATT WOOD [Sits up dramatically; speaks in a gravely, Belushi-ish voice] I guess I’ll talk. [Laughter] DYLAN O’BRIEN This is how Matt really sounds, by the way. MORRIS Go from here. [Pats Wood’s chest] From the heart. WOOD From the heart? OK. [Puts hand on heart] John. Because we’re doing this 90 minutes before the first show, we don’t have the pressure of needing to capture the full span of these people. And in regards to John, one of the most cool, beautiful, heartbreaking decisions in the movie is to put him at a little bit of a low. Big mood swings are very famous with him. This big, enigmatic figure that we all know as so boisterous and engaging — and he’s starting off in a pretty low place. A famous quote of John’s is, “My television is covered in spit,” just to explain to Lorne where he’s coming from. He doesn’t like the medium and he doesn’t trust these people. In this movie, we’re getting this cool opportunity to show that anarchic spirit, that brick wall that is Belushi. And something that Jason would always say to me on set if I was getting lost in the sauce is, “Hey, [Belushi] doesn’t give a f—.” And it’s like, right? He doesn’t give a f—, you know? That was a good north star to hang on to. LABELLE You had a great one, Kim, when you were talking to Jane. MATULA Oh, yeah. I was able to talk to Jane on the phone. The opportunity just presented itself to me, and I wasn’t going to turn it down. That would be nutter butter. [Laughter] CORY MICHAEL SMITH She just was Jane Curtin. MATULA I wanted to know how she felt being on that set, what her relationship was like with the rest of the cast. It was a boys’ club. There were men in the cast who were actively like, “Women are not funny.” If you wanted to really be seen, then you had to write it yourself. And she was not a writer, so she got thrown into this being like, Oh, they want me, so they’ll use me. But that ended up not being the case for her, and she felt like she really had to prove herself. But despite all of those things that were such a challenge, she also said that it was some of the most fun she’s ever, ever had. She said when she walked out onto the stage on show night, she could feel the buzz start from her feet and just radiate up through her body. Jane came from a background of commercials. She was the commercial queen. After a table read, Jason came up to me, and he was like, “Jane needs another moment.” And then two days before we shot the scene with me and Lamorne, he was like, “OK, I wrote this monologue for you. It’s this weird blend of commercials that she’s done, and you get to show the highs and lows.” It was one of my favorite scenes to shoot. I loved it. MORRIS First of all, I was impressed by her performance, but more so impressed by how fast because I’m memorizing the same scene. I’m working on the exact same scene, and then I get these new pages and I’m like, Oh, there’s no way she’s gonna pull this off. There’s no way. She’s gonna ruin the whole movie! [Laughs] There are moments where I’m just watching her and it’s my line and I’m like, Oh, s—. I gotta talk. HUNT For me, with Gilda, it was her empathy. We know her as this comedic gold — the vastness of her characters and her ability to shape-shift into little old ladies or children or whatever. But she had this magic ability to clock anyone in need in the room and check in with them and use every element of her being — whether it was flirtatiousness or kindness or a childlike naivety — to put them at ease. And that was just a beautiful thing to spend time sitting into. NICHOLAS BRAUN I’ll talk about Andy and Jim.

You had an extra challenge, playing two people. And Andy Kaufman has a quality of being unknowable.

BRAUN Yeah, he was more intimidating to play than Jim. They both have this lore around them, and they’re beloved. Andy was 25 at the time and Jim was 39, so I wanted to tap into [how] they’re going through super different things. Andy’s doing his first TV appearance of his career tonight. Jim already had “The Muppet Show” greenlit, and [“SNL”] was experimental. He was trying to show other levels of himself. So they’re both trying to prove things in completely different ways. With Andy, I wanted to have a certain wonder about him. I thought I’d do Andy’s normal voice, so I sent Jason a clip. It was Andy’s audition for the show. I was like, “I’m gonna work on this.” He was like, “I think you should do the Foreign Man voice.”    [With Henson], I wanted to nail his voice, I wanted to nail his passion. I wanted to nail his feeling like an outcast, like he wasn’t a part of this thing. Jim is getting rejected by everyone there, so this is a tough night for him. He couldn’t write his own stuff. He was writing and creating the rest of his Muppet career, but the union thing was that the [“SNL”] writers upstairs had to write stuff, so his hands were tied. O’BRIEN With Dan [Aykroyd], what really struck me about him — especially him younger, which I was a lot less familiar with — was just how absurdly intelligent he was and precise in his improvisation and his cadence. And he possesses seemingly no insecurities. But he doesn’t dominate a space. He’s so not competitive in any way. He just has this really quiet confidence of knowing how fast he is. His screen test, I was so fascinated by it. That became fun homework for me. I always just used that as a little compass to try to train myself. And he really loved women. That’s in the movie. SMITH The Chevy that most people know and see in his films is: He has this outrageous confidence. He’s just so smooth, he’s so fast and he’s able to be goofy and still sexy because of this confidence. What I find so interesting in Jason’s script is that he gives [Chase] the same attributes of confidence from the very beginning. He walks into this film talking about his own…[pauses] appendage — you know, bragging about its size. He’s cocky, literally. But the thing is, he gained that confidence from his first season of “Saturday Night Live” and everything that came after it. The show was October 11, 1975. By December, he was on the cover of New York magazine. And so Jason wrote this arc about a young man who is born to be confident, born to have this amazing career, but there’s nothing underneath it. And someone like Milton Berle [played by J.K. Simmons], who is accomplished, who is the biggest name in television, can come around and say to him, “Kid, you’re a nobody.” And he can be swatted down and shattered in an instant. Chevy in 1985, that wouldn’t happen to him, but it does here. LABELLE One of the first things Jason told me about why he’s making this film is he wanted to show a group of young people who [are saying], “Just give me a chance to make something.” So what is that yearning for Lorne? He was dreaming about comedy since he was 14 years old. I didn’t talk to Lorne, but I wanted to imagine, OK, what’s that dreamer? What’s this person who just loves this so much? Why does he care about this project? And I think that was part of the relationships he formed with all of these people, his friends he invited to come on the show. I wanted to show how much he loves this brainchild of his and what’s at stake if it doesn’t happen and the responsibility he feels if he fails the people he loves.

For each of you, what is your favorite “SNL” sketch of all time?

MORRIS “More Cowbell.” There’s a bunch. That’s just one that I just threw out there. BRAUN Will Ferrell and Cheri Oteri cheerleaders. Anytime they did the cheerleaders. LABELLE I rehearsed that and performed that at recess in, like, Grade 5 all the time. I grew up on the best of Will Ferrell, Chris Farley. MATULA “Schweddy Balls.” SMITH Of Chevy’s, my favorite is the sketch called “Word Association.”

With Richard Pryor?

SMITH With Richard Pryor. It’s so great.

I don’t think that would even air today.

SMITH I don’t know. I mean, it was wild and risqué in 1975. MORRIS On “The Chappelle Show,” it could live. WOOD My favorite John sketch is “Little Chocolate Donuts.” I think that’s really sweet. “For breakfast every day, I have little chocolate donuts.” HUNT Favorite Gilda? Judy Miller. Her hopping around as a little girl. The moment she comes out of the closet as the French [queen] and bangs down on the bed is so glorious. O’BRIEN My favorite Aykroyd, I love Fred Garvin. We tried to squeeze it in the movie, [when I say], “I’m a strumpet.” He’s a male prostitute, but he’s a nerdy guy with, like, a sinus infection. He’s all blocked up. It’s really funny.  HUNT So there you have it, folks. 

Source: thewrap.com

[loverlylight]

More Cinderella's Castle thoughts!

-Everyone was perfectly cast, like they're all amazing and versatile actors so no matter what roles each of them played it would have been awesome, but everyone's roles felt somewhat catered for them in particular, if that makes sense? Which I'm sure is somewhat the case, but I disgress.

-Jeff brought such a fun chaotic energy to The Narrator, it was wonderful to watch. The makeup and outfit was also splendid, and there was this impish physicality as well, he was just so much fun.

-I loved the band being named and mentioned in universe! So much fun, and we were all cheering so much whenever they'd come on stage. Obviously because everyone is grateful to Matt for the creation of Pulp Musicals, of course.

-...speaking of, it really was odd watching Putrice, Tadius, and the Prince interact on stage given that my brain has been at least 85% Pulp for the last half a year

-I was fortunate enough to be able to sit front row, center stage. For most of the play this was absolutely amazing, getting to see the actors so close and seeing the intricacies of their facial expressions, the costume, set design, all those wonderful details that can fade into the background if you're too far away. ...the downside is that at the part of act 2 when the Prince turned around to reveal the sparkly purple codpeice it was, like, just a few yards away from me. Pretty sure I audibly said "oh God" and buried my face in my hands.

-I really like Tadius and Ella's friendship! I especially love how they handled the hints of romance, particularly how nothing happens in the show. There are hints that something might happen between them if they decide to explore that in the future, hints that Tadius has some form of feelings for her, but canonically they're just friends and have a good, solid friendship that feels very organic.

-Crumb was adorable at all times, but I especially love when Joey was no longer in control of the puppet and just reacting, it was hilarious~

-I ship Ella with Tadius, Lucy, Justine, AND the Fairy Queen of Sweet Dreams

-Ella was so freaking badass, like... AUGH I love her so much!

-I honestly kinda ship Rancilda/The Prince. They had fun chemistry, especially with the "blowjob joke" bit.

-Like EVERY line the Prince had was sexual, it was impressive but it also started to blend together after a while.

-For a moment there I honestly thought we might have a bad guys win situation, they did a really good job of leaving things so it felt like there really is no way back from this.

-Ella's outfits were so amazing! The multi-colored dress and the one from the end especially, just... oh my god I am such a lesbian you guys.

-I love how the entire theatre loved the bits where Tadius talked about going against the royal family. I love him so much <3

-I also love how the theatre went nuts at the "let's go" before the final song, there was just so much energy in that room and it was amazing.

-The music in general was just... DAMN. Don't get me wrong, I loved the demos, but I can't wait to hear the final versions again when the digital ticket comes out because they all sounded so amazing.

-Looking forwards to the digital ticket in general, like... being there, seeing it live, it was such a precious and amazing experience that I'll treasure. But I'm also looking forward to being able to watch the whole show again, both with renting the digital ticket and when the pro-shot comes out!

-The 2023 performance of VHSCC is still my favorite Starkid production ever, I don't know what if anything could top it (PLEASE re-release the digital ticket or put it up for permanent purchase or on Youtube, PLEASE), but while I know the fact that this is the most recent show and the only one I got to see live is coloring things, Cinderella's Castle is definitely one of their top musicals in my opinion. Currently it's at the number 2 spot, and while it's possible things might shift once the initial excitement wears off, I can't see it dropping much lower-- certainly not below the top 5.

-I almost certainly have even more thoughts I should try and get down while the experience in relatively fresh but I'm gonna have a long shift tomorrow and I'm Sleepy. Goodnight!

[altarfates]

[ kiss ]  for your muse to come up to mine and kiss them without warning / ONE nice thing

He isn’t like Mello, pragmatic, evaluating each situation as it unfolds before him with a calculating eye. It’s impulse that drives him, the sort of reckless abandon that could eventually cost him his life. If Matt knows this he’s chosen to feign obliviousness, like it might be a mercy to merely exist shackled to this moment and not advancing desperately in a game with grim consequences. His bare feet linger at the threshold, gaze drifting listlessly across the room to where the other’s elegant features are illuminated by the artificial light cast from his computer screen. How could he do anything other than become engrossed, an arm propped against the intricate wooden doorframe, letting out a shaky, ambivalent breath. He recognizes the aching the moment it carves a hole beside his heart, the itch to caress the delicate jut of his clavicle, to bury his face impudently into the juncture between his throat and shoulder and savour the warmth of him. Despite that, he chooses to merely stare until he has seared a black, gaping hole into the contours of his back. Mello doesn’t need to acknowledge him, actually, it’s preferable that he remains captive to the code surging upward over a dark, stygian sea. His somnolent steps caress the tessellated rug, gaudy in contrast to the varnished wood below, each fibre carving open the soles of his feet as thousands of minute stabbing needles. That is what anticipation becomes when he stands before his god, the very person who dictated each heartbeat, every breath, who Matt had inadvertently sworn to follow to the ends of this deplorable earth. He ducks down, a graceful sweeping motion, letting a warm breath caress the shell of his ear before he presses a chaste kiss between his jaw and cheek. ❝ Still not asleep ? ❞ He had half expected to stumble upon him slumped over his desk again, his lithe arms crossed beneath his chin, head tilted to the side in a transient, stolen respite. This is a temptation that becomes inherently precarious because the longer Mello is awake the more prickly and belligerent he’ll become. His mouth curls into a lazy, impish smile, retreating mere moments before a gracile hand can shoot out and grab him viciously by the collar. ❝ You’re gonna make me lonely, leavin’ me out there all on my own.❞ Whilst it sounds as if he’s petitioning Mello to return to their reluctantly shared bed, not really but it was good to pretend they were something akin to professional, Matt has already greedily sated himself with that soft, fleeting kiss and the shudder he knows jostled his boss from his stupor. ❝ Do you hate me that much, Mels ?❞

[weirdocvnt08]

Title: Don’t be a loser!

Relationship: Rise!Leonardo/Yuichi Usagi (one-sided)

TW: Mentions of underage smoking of nicotine/marijuana [Pls skip this post if this stuff doesn’t interest you]

Author is listening to: California Here We Go by The Garden

AN: This was written for shits & giggles & even though the boys didn’t actually smoke in this, I have to put it out there for the minors reading this to pls avoid vaping. Don’t matter if it’s nic or THC, both aren’t good (yes even THC & as someone with first hand experience lemme tell you if you have family history with addictions & have autism then bby you’re most likely gonna end up reliant on it which is no bueno) and it can very much damage your still developing brain as corny as that sounds. With that being said, enjoy this sorta/sorta not crackfic and Usagi’s poorly hidden one-sided feelings bc Leo just sees him as his bro (for now, maybe ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ)

~⛽️💨~⛽️💨~⛽️💨~

Usagi and Leo had been in the middle of playing an online game on their phones until Usagi’s abruptly shut itself off. Heart rate quickening and hoping their game was still connected, Usagi tried to quickly turn the device back on but was instead met with the zero-battery icon that had displayed itself on the screen.

“Dude did your phone just die?!” Leo exclaimed as he watched Usagi’s character lag and glitch before the game ultimately kicked him off, taking him back to the main menu.

A regretful whine was all Leo could get in response. He sighed as he closed off the game and set his phone aside. “Wanna watch something then? While we wait for your phone to actually charge?” Leo asked as he leaned over to his bedside drawer to pick up the remote control for his TV.

“Yes! Can I choose?” If the platinum haired teen were animated, he’d have sparks shimmering around him and stars gleaming in his eyes, but sadly this was the real world and as Leo kept his focus on his flatscreen he cocked a restive brow as he replied nonchalantly, “After you made us lose our mission and we’ll have to now start from our last checkpoint that was, like, forever ago? Sorry, but it’s a hard ‘no’ my guy.”

“Mmh!” The Japanese boy grunted out in a miff manner as he got up from Leo’s bed to retrieve his charger from his bag and plug it to the nearest available outlet. Choosing the small lone spot beside Leo’s bookshelf, he bent down on one knee to connect the plug but stopped himself at the odd sight before him.

“Leo why do you have this usb type thing charging, and why does it look so weird?”

Knitting his thin eyebrows together in confusion, Leo mouthed to himself ‘USB?’ but the realization quickly clicked in his head and couldn’t help the brief chortle that escaped his mouth as he thought of an exciting idea.

“Oh that? Bring it over here and I’ll show you what exactly it is.”

Having not noticed the impish look on his American friend’s face due to his allowance of getting the strange object, he took a closer look at it as he walked back to Leo. The surface was a matte electric blue and on one side there was what he assumed was the brand name. ‘STIIIZY?’ he confoundedly thought.

The more that he stared at it, memories of his past encounters in their school’s restrooms that involved this same type of gadget would suddenly rush into his mind. In his option-less runs to use the poorly maintained restrooms around campus, he’d always have to brace the groups of people who’d ditch class to hang out and smoke both outside and inside the stalls carrying those similar rectangular objects in their hands.

Sometimes (if he wasn’t immediately kicked out from it) he’d opt to just walk to the closest restroom and avoid the horrid mixed stench of sweet artificial cookies and sewage water, but nine times out of ten he’ll ignore the sharp glares and sneers that’ll get sent his way as he makes his way to do his business that the restrooms were purposed to do.

Besides all that, Usagi just hopes that it’s not what he thinks it is as he plopped himself down onto the bed and extended his left hand towards Leo, who was leaned over again and digging a hand inside his drawer. After he found what he was looking for he swiftly took his sleek object back and attached a familiar looking compact filled with a yellow substance into the open slot. His fear was now just confirmed.

“Yui y’know what a—?”

“You smoke?! And nicotine at that? Why?! Leo you’re too pre—!” Coughing fugaciously at his near slip up of calling his best friend pretty, Usagi covered with, “I thought you were too cool for that kind of stuff?”

Playing with the thin vape in his hand, Leo laughed at the claim. “Mmmm, I don’t ever remember saying about my stance on vaping, but chill out it’s not nic, it’s weed.”

“How is that any better?”

“Look I’m not gonna explain the politics of the two, but just know this is way better and funner than nicotine!” Leo exasperated. What the shaved headed teen had left out though was that he himself hadn’t smoked nicotine ever in his life and just jumped straight to marijuana, so his answer holds no weight. He continued, “I don’t even do it a lot and just use it when I want to have a good time during movie nights or want to make my favorite meal ten times better because I have the munchies. It also helps when I feel myself becoming too absorbed into my thoughts, but that’s beside the point.”

Usagi felt icky for feeling this way, but he couldn’t help but feel sort of disappointed that Leo, his most favorite person since moving here, is a part of the hordes of teens that find the weird appeal of owning that useless junk just so they could make grossly sweet scented smoke clouds in front of their friends and not caring about the harm it can do to their young and healthy lungs. Despite his own opposing views though, he tried to swallow his judgment.

“How can anyone underage even get their hands on this, isn’t it illegal? Who even gave you this and does anyone else know you do this stuff?”

“I mean, it's pretty easy if you know someone who has connections, and to answer that other question, only Donnie—who also smokes—and my sister Frida knows. Ida’s also the one who hooked us up with the battery and cart but she’s so stingy though ‘cause she didn’t want to get us the full gram that this brand offers!”

Blank faced, Usagi answered, “I don’t know what that last part meant at all, but I really don’t wanna know anyway.”

The two sat in silence as Leo continued to fiddle with the concentrated THC pen with only a YouTube video playing on the TV to act as background noise. Usagi hoped that meant Leo lost interest in the topic now that he showed off his vape pen, that was until Leo opened his mouth again.

“So wanna take a hit?”

“Huh!? No! Weren’t you catching on with my obvious oppositions to that kind of stuff?!” He vicariously shook his head in disapproval. “I have important people in my life that expect me to be better than to do these types of things. Also don’t wanna die of lung cancer anytime soon.”

Sucking his teeth, Leo pressed “C’moooon! We can shotgun if you want!”

“Shotgun?”

“Basically I’ll take a hit and I’ll pass it to you by blowing it to your mouth for you to inhale.”

A strained expression appeared on Usagi’s face as he painted the image in his head and from what he’d seen it wasn’t very appealing if not super awkward. “That sounds dumb and weird.”

Leo cackled as he instantly knew the other teen didn’t get it, so he explained through small fits of laughter, “I don’t think you’re picturing it right dude. Our mouths have to be like really close so it’s sorta gonna look like we’re gonna go in for a kiss.”

‘Kiss?’ Usagi thought to himself as he re-imagined Leo’s new description. What he saw was Leo’s attractive face up close to his and his plush mixed tone lips slightly parted and nearly touching his slightly cracked ones, that maybe he might actually find out what Leo’s glossed lips finally taste like if he leans his head forward just a bit more. His heart picked up at the thought and with red tinting his tan skin he quickly adversed “We’re not doing that!”

“Oh? Sorry, was that a lil’ too gay for your straight-male self?” With an amused smile, Leo playfully rolled his eyes and coolly replied “Chill out man, it’s just a suggestion. But since you’re such a chad, I guess you’ll just do it on your own then?” He tried to hand him the rectangular device, but Usagi merely pushed the cold and slender brown hand back to its owner’s vicinity.

“Iranai. Don’t need it, so have fun doing that stuff by yourself.” He firmly stated but just like him, Leo wasn’t going to lose his ground and continue his pursuit of convincing Usagi to smoke with him.

“Don’t be lame and have a sesh with meee!”

“Nope.”

“Smoking isn’t as fun if you’re not doing it with someone! Yui!”

“Sucks to be you I guess.”

Leo let out an elongated sigh before voicing, “I get that you have this weird honor code thing where you take promises to heart n’ stuff, but aren’t I just as important to you too?”

Perplexed brown eyes met his hazel ones and with a casual shrug Leo resumed, “I just asked you to do this with me because you’re cool, and I feel comfortable around you, but if you really don’t wanna, then I won’t force you since it’s not fun if you’re not into it too.”

Usagi was gradually starting to feel his ‘tough as nails’ facade slip at the compliments Leo threw his way because of course he’d give more of shit of what this guy says than anyone else who’s known him for years or even since his birth.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I don’t do this a lot y’know. Sorta why I really wanted you to try it with me, since it could be like a really fun memory that only you and me can share.” Leo suddenly said, and although Usagi knows better than to blindly trust Leo’s word he could tell that his friend was not fully lying at this time.

“So, what? Trying to tell me that you don’t smoke with everyone?”

“No sir.”

“I don’t buy it.”

“I’m serious. I’ve literally only smoked with my siblings. I don’t trust the crap people at school have, and I don’t trust the people at school like that even less so yeah, I don’t smoke with everyone and only a few select people are worthy to see me at my stupidest.”

Silence fell upon them again and Leo didn’t really know if his bait had worked or not, but sure enough it did as Usagi abruptly huffed out “Give it” and extended his hand to reveal his open palm that waited expectantly to receive something.

“But I thought—.“

“Just pass me the stupid thing you manipulative asshole!”

Ecstatic over Usagi’s change of mind, Leo quickly handed him his vape pen and watched as Usagi mauled over his new decision.

“If you’re worried about how you’re gonna act, don’t worry. Since I’m not as new to this like you, I can keep my bearings and take care of you if you end up doing something stupid.”

Cupping Usagi’s hand that held his little item of relaxation and enjoyment, he looked into the other boy’s eyes and earnestly promised “Swear on my dad’s life that I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Trust me, all that you’re gonna feel is as if your whole body is floating and even find yourself kinda hungry.” Letting good of his hand, Leo encouraged him to go for it with a nod of his head.

‘Am I really going to do this?’

With one last glance at Leo’s smug yet gorgeous hazel-green eyes he felt as if his heart had been squeezed from the huge amount of affection he was currently feeling for the other teen across of him.

‘Yeah, I really am.’

Hesitantly, he brought the pen to his lips and the more he dared to take a hit he could hear the loud anxious pounding coming from the center of his chest. It beat so loud that once he finally took a brave inhale from the pen he didn’t even register Leo’s rushed warning, and before he knew it, he felt as if a ball of fire had invaded his airways.

[fishrpg]

2024-12-06: South Colorado (Hex 6)

Mountains on the horizon never seem to grow closer, though the rumble of the road beneath you tells you that the journey continues. The way to the southeast is prone to delays.

Notable Feature: Dungeon

Medium dungeon, 18 areas

In the southwestern portion of the state are the ruins of a pueblo village that recently been overtaken by a monster from Colorado's folk history: the Slide Rock Bolter. It's a massive creature that looks sort of like a whale crossed with a slug and a muscular hooked tail that lives on steep slopes and attacks travelers and causes rockslides. Unfortunately for the local population, the Slide Rock Bolter causing trouble here has recently given birth to several young Bolters and the little ones have taken up residence in some of the pueblos built high into the cliffsides.

The ruined village is located at the intersection of several ley lines and is a sought-after site for performing magic (or studying astronomy if you just need clear skies). Mato "Matt" Garcia works as the village's unofficial caretaker, though his day job is as a tour guide who is intimately familiar with the mystical aspects of the area's history. If the party can slay or otherwise evict the family of Bolters from the village, Mato will gift each member a stone etched with a petroglyph that can function as a single-use Shield spell when wielded. Using the stone takes may be done with a bonus action or a reaction, and the magic (but not the petroglyph) fades permanently after use.

Hidden: The Prodigal Daughter

In a squat nondenominational chapel nestled against a hillside, a young hippie hitchhiker is recovering from a less than welcome reception at the last bar she tried to sing for money at. The girl's name is Brenda Walker, and she is badly bruised from being pelted by beer bottles thrown by a drunken audience. She's planning on staying here for a week for her bruises to heal, her room and board provided by doing cleaning and clerical work for the chapel's celebrant, Father Jerry.

Brenda has run away from her home in Seattle because her family joined a new age cult. If the party is going to Seattle, she gives them a letter she would like to be delivered to her parents, who have changed their names to Skylark (mother) and Freedom (Father). She can't call or mail them since the cult does not allow telephones, nor does the cult have a fixed address. Brenda's family know her cult name as Moonbeam, and they will likely offer some reward for information knowing that she is safe.

Hidden: The Radio Operator

A fastidiously maintained modest brick home with several antennas on the roof sits alone in the scrubland, its only company being a small radio tower. The house's owner is Gavin Perry, an engineer by trade who believes in a rational explanation for almost anything. He is dismissive of anything arcane or supernatural, though he has a soft spot in his heart for tommyknockers, the impish creatures who cause mischief in mines.

When Gavin was a child lived in western Montana, he snuck into an abandoned mine and briefly encountered a creature he believed to be a tommyknocker. If the party is willing to explore a certain mine in western Montana and bring back a living tommyknocker if they find one, Gavin Perry will let the party use his extensive knowledge of the radio waves and phone system to call any person in the US (inside or outside The Routes) or perhaps intercept some information from the satellites or military broadcasts that permeate the skies.

Encounter: Goose!

A flock of Canada geese are swooping and biting at a person who has entered their nesting ground. There are far too many geese for one person to fight off, and the geese look like they are winning. Whoever the poor soul is the geese are attacking, they were after an egg. Roll 1d10 to see what was so special about the egg:

1-5: Regular egg mistaken for something later in this list

6: Functions as a potion of healing if hard boiled

7. Grants a +1 bonus to a random stat as long as it is carried and undamaged (until it goes rancid after a week)

8: Belongs to a shapeshifting creature who will grant a favor for its safe return

9: Eventually hatches into a small dinosaur

10: Made of gold

Service Station: Dusty Dave's Gas & Wash

The huge gaudy cowboy mural painted on the outside of the building is indicative of the general theme of the place. Nearly every square inch of the store is covered with some sort of tacky cowboy-adjacent decoration. A woman named Shotgun Sally runs the store (yes, she keeps a shotgun behind the counter), and is always dressed like a practical cowgirl. She's the daughter of the eponymous Dave.

Dusty Dave is getting on in years and barely fits into his cowboy outfit these days. He mostly sticks to maintaining the car wash and making sure every washed vehicle leaves better than when it came in. Each car wash by Dusty Dave comes with an added benefit of increasing the car's reliability. For 24 hours after receiving a wash, the car and its occupants have advantage on any check to avoid car breakdowns.

[ask-the-almighty-google]

Just Some SWTOR OCs…

DTEMA

Gameplay Movie:

Aliases: Tem, Barsen'thor, Sky Hunter

Date of Birth: 8 BTC / 2,661 BBY (18 at start of game)

Gender: Female

Species: Mirialan

Home Planet: Mirial

Affiliations: Republic, Jedi

Class: Jedi Consular

Discipline: Shadow

Role: Tank

Significant Other: None

Primary Companion: Qyzen Fess

Preferred Weapons: Double-bladed Lightsaber, green color crystal with black-green center

Outfit: (Tython Highlander Armor Set), Dtema wears rough-spun white linen with pale grey edging made of plant fibers. This is paired with simple matte tan leather gauntlets, belt, and gloves with metal fastenings.

Species Traits: Mirialans are an extremely agile and flexible near-human species with very heightened reflexes that make them extraordinarily fast. Their skin ranges from dark green to pale orange-yellow, and their eyes and hair colors fall along the typical human range with the addition of violet, yellow, orange, and red irises. A highly religious Force-zealous culture, their people mark major milestones with stylized tattoos.

Physical Characteristics: Dtema has vibrant green skin and nearly black dark green hair pulled into an elaborate bun and long braid that falls to the middle of her back, capped in gold thread. Her eyes are deep orange-red, and her tattoos frame her face along the cheekbones and cover also the center of her forehead and chin.

Personality Traits: Dtema manages to balance the expected decorum and reservedness of a Jedi Master with an impish and somewhat mischievous sense of humor. She Finds her duties as the Barsen'thor to be very fulfilling and is a patient, understanding teacher. These qualities make her an outstanding diplomat and, combined with her skills with a lightsaber, make her a deadly opponent both on and off of the battlefield. She inspires great loyalty in friends and courage in cowards.

Associated Music: “True Colors” - Glee Cast Version (https://youtu.be/qtkYB1nkiqE?si=LleUXqsbhnjfiF8K)

Trivia: Dtema is one of the youngest Jedi Masters to have a seat upon the High Council, and is the third Barsen'thor in the history of the Order. Her training was guided strongly by the Force.

Personal Background: Born into the Force-zealous culture of Mirial, Dtema showed great aptitude at a very young age and was taken to a Jedi Temple on-planet at the age of four. There, she trained and studied hard in the art of the saber, diplomacy, and mastering the Force. She became a senior Padawan by the age of fourteen and was apprenticed to an elder Knight. Her first Master was killed on a relief mission, and Dtema was assigned to Master Yuon Par on Tython at eighteen to complete her training. She was Knighted shortly after when it became apparent that the Force was working through her.

[vanillamonsterfucker]

Prompt list Prompt: "Who would have thought that this is something that you're into?" Pairing: Maple Tea, top!Matt/bottom!Arthur Warnings: consensual non-consent, werewolf transformation, knotting

┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

Arthur looked up from his cross-stitch. "To be honest, I would never have considered it as something you'd be interested in."

Nervously, Matt looked down at his lap. He sat cross-legged on the sofa and wrung a corner of the beige throw blanket in his hands.

"There's no need to be nervous, lad." Arthur set his cross-stitch aside and turned off the lamp next to his chair. "I've been alive for many years, and for many of those years, I had Francis as a neighbor. If you manage to think of a kink that surprises me, I'll let you know."

Matt chuckled and looked up. His muscles slowly relaxed, and the crow's-feet winging Arthur's deepset eyes deepened as he smiled.

"Is this something you'd like to start now, or would after nightfall be preferable?" Arthur asked, and Matt suddenly grew nervous all over again.

"Now," he said, face instantly going red. He was sure that if they waited, Matt would let his anxiety talk him out of doing this entirely. His quick reply left his face feeling warm, though, as his heart hammered inside his chest. He sounded desperate, and his blush only deepened as Arthur laughed as he got up.

"Luckily, I already have just the potion ready to go. Inside or outside? I have no preference for either, and there's wards in place. No one will walk in on us. My brothers are away for the week, too, so don't worry about them."

Nodding, Matt swallowed the lump in his throat. "O-okay. Um... out-outside. Please."

The twinkle in Arthur's eye as he gave an impish grin made Matthew's heart skip a beat.

"Go ahead and sit outside then and calm down. We'll discuss this more soon as I've found the potion."

°❀°

The potion tasted like unwashed ass with an aftertaste of salt. He gagged but kept it all down, telling himself that he'd swallowed worse.

"The pain will be brief," Arthur reminded Matthew. He kissed him on the tip of his nose and then between his eyebrows as he slid Matthew's glasses off his face. "No need to worry about these being broken."

He set them onto the nearby fountain's edge, and Matthew hoped he wouldn't have to deal with one of Arthur's little fairy friends taking them.

Nodding, Matthew licked his lips and grimaced at the lingering taste, making his boyfriend laugh. Not only was their first time doing CNC, but they were adding magic to it. Discussing what would happen hadn't helped Matthew's anxiety, but he was also excited. He'd been trying to bring up this idea for weeks, and it was finally happening.

Nerves set Matthew's body on fire, and he realized the transformation was starting from Arthur's expression.

Then the pain hit, and Matthew doubled over. A scream caught in his throat and turned into a rumbling growl. His feet lengthened as his body hair thickened and grew. He lurched forward, stumbling and snapped at Arthur when he tried to help steady him.

"Matt--"

Matthew growled at him, and he was no longer conscious enough to wonder if it was real concern or an act.

His nails thickened and grew into claws, and his sneakers came off his feet as he fell to all fours. His growls and snarls turned more into a rattle as his jaw popped out of place. It turned slender and grew out, jutting forward before the rest of his face could start to catch up. Teeth loosened and fell out, and Matthew choked and coughed as the remaining teeth thickened and turned sharp.

He dug his claws into the manicured lawn under him, tearing into the cool soil. His vision blurred and doubled, and he bent, spine feeling like it might burst right through his skin, his ribs feeling like they were going to explode out his back like wings.

Matthew struggled to breathe, each inhale a rattle down his throat. Each exhale whistled, and he saw two Arthurs slowly backing up from him.

Hard, Matthew crawled forward, sniffing the air but only picking up musk, soil, and the coppery tang of blood--his blood.

He roared, and his clothes fell around him in tatters as a long, golden tail swished behind him. His vision righted and sharpened as he picked up so many smells that he snarled, unable to parse it all. Everything was too much. Too many smells, too many sounds. It was too bright.

Cock now in his sheath, Matthew rose to his new height, and Arthur's jaw dropped as he stared up at the seven-foot werewolf.

Arthur ran into the nearby forest, and Matthew threw back his head and howled before giving chase. This was his prey, and he would tear anyone and anything apart that tried to take it from him.

Matthew, unused to this huge, long-limbed body, crashed into trees and tripped over roots as he gave chase. It allowed Arthur the precious time he needed to put distance between the two of them, but there was nothing he could do about his scent. Matthew easily changed course each time Arthur tried to outsmart him, and before either knew it, Matthew had him pinned to the ground.

"Get off!" Arthur cried as he struggled. "This isn't you!"

He cursed as Matthew tore at his clothes with his claws, leaving cuts on Arthur's pale body.

"Stop! Please, Matthew! It's me!" The whites of Arthur's eyes could be seen around his irises as he witnessed Matthew's scarlet cock extend out of its sheath. "N-no, please!"

Arthur struggled and managed to get on his hands and knees, but as he tried to crawl away, Matthew planted his hands in front of him and impaled the smaller man without preamble. Arthur cried out, tears gathering in his eyes, and he struggled to breathe as his arms shook, pain shooting out from his viciously-stretched hole.

As Matthew started moving inside him, strength left Arthur's arms. Matthew caught him before he could face-plant and held him parallel to the ground as he continued thrusting, huffing and letting out a rumbling growl as he kept going.

Seemingly despite himself, Arthur grew hard, and he blinked weakly as he trembled and moaned. His breathing was in short gasps, and what little breath he had left as Matthew pulled out briefly and flipped him around so he was on his back.

"M-Matthew..." Arthur's eyes were shiny as he looked up blankly. His cheeks were flushed,and tears streaked down into his hair. "Pl-please... This isn't--AH!"

Matthew shoved himself into Arthur again and howled. He leaned down and bit Arthur where his neck met his shoulder, just hard enough to draw blood. Arthur gasped, trying to push Matthew away as the werewolf licked at the welling blood until the wound closed.

He started moving, and Arthur's nails broke as he dug into the hard earth under him. He bit his bottom lip but couldn't stop from yelling out as Matthew hit his prostate over and over again, moving faster and faster.

He writhed under Matthew, who kept his arms pinned on either side of his head.

Arthur came first, and he mumbled nonsense as his head lolled as cum dripped from the thick fur covering Matthew's stomach.

When Matthew came, he slammed hard into Arthur, making him cry out as his back arched. He whispered rapidly, the words to his prayers mixing and then suddenly cutting off as he screamed. Matthew only licked at Arthur's tears and where he'd bitten him as his knot formed, stretching Arthur further.

Screaming turned to moans as pain gave way to pleasure, and Matthew continued licking up his mate's tears as he remained inside him.

As Arthur began trembling again, Matthew shifted and wrapped his strong arms around the much smaller human. He laid on his side and nuzzled Arthur as they remained locked together, Arthur's tears dampening Matthew's fur.

°❀°

Arthur peppered Matthew with kisses, assuring him how much fun their time in the forest had been, how sexy Matthew had been and how he'd love to do it again.

Lingering guilt faded as Matthew let his boyfriend hold him, and he sighed and let sleep wrap over him.

It wouldn't be for a while, but Matthew wanted to do this again.

[im-a-matt-girl]

"would you stop that? i'm busy." w/ clingy matt

i would never want him to stop ♡ but here you go, my friend:

I'm sitting at my desk, trying so hard to focus on writing my dissertation. It's due soon, and it's the most difficult writing I've ever had to do in my life. But you're kissing my neck, and it's super distracting.

"Would you stop that? I'm busy," I tell you exasperatedly. I can't be too mad at you, because I do enjoy it, but I really need to get this done.

"Make me," you whisper mischievously.

I grab you by the collar of your shirt and look you in the eyes. "Matthew Bernard, I'm serious," I say, trying desperately not to smile.

Your eyebrows are raised, and you have an impish grin on your face. "How serious?" you ask me.

"Don't tempt me," glower.

"To do what? This?" you lean in to kiss me, and all of my resolve melts away.

I return your kiss, closing my eyes and feverishly grasping at your hair. I've forgotten to be mad at you, and about my dissertation, too.

[dreamsister81]

THE LEAP INTO LEGEND

By Holly George Warren via the Coda Collection, 2021

He was the man with a thousand voices — or so it appeared. I experienced Jeff Buckley live a few times — and that first night, in 1993, a Monday at tiny Café Sin-é across from my East Village apartment in New York, is forever seared in my brain. Not knowing anything about him beforehand, I sized him up as just another cute guy with a guitar. Nearly three decades later, it has become increasingly apparent that I have never seen — nor do I expect to see again — a vocalist so spookily gifted.

Jeff Buckley leaves behind a story that seems scripted from myth. He is the SoCal boy descended from an angel-throated folksinger (Tim Buckley) who had died of a drug overdose at 28, when Jeff was only 8. He comes of age poor, toils in obscurity as a metal-band guitarist, seemingly unaware of — or resistant to — that which percolates within him. Landing in New York in his early 20s, he uncorks a five-octave voice to rival his father’s, and writes bold, baroque rock songs — multi-tiered, Zeppelin-esque anthems and keening, sex-drenched romantic balladry. He delivers them, alongside a crazy quilt of diverse covers, with operatic skill placing him among (some would say above) Freddie Mercury and Robert Plant. The latter would become a fan, as would Bono, Bowie, Lou Reed, Chrissie Hynde and Elvis Costello. At the height of his quick fame, natural forces — i.e. the Mississippi River — take him from this world, in an incomprehensible, freak 1997 drowning in Memphis. He would leave behind one studio album, “Grace,” and join the galaxy of brilliant comets who died too young, like Nick Drake and Gram Parsons.

Back to that Monday night in ’93. My singer-songwriter husband shared the bill with a sweaty 26-year-old Jeff Buckley at our St. Mark’s “local” — an Irish tea-and-coffee place by day that served beer and wine at night to about 30 people who’d pass the hat for neighborhood troubadours. No stage, just a spot where a table was shoved aside from the brick wall. My spouse lent him his capo so Buckley could play John Cale’s version of Leonard Cohen’s not-yet-ubiquitous “Hallelujah.” In my memory, the songs preceding this ranged from Porter Wagoner’s “A Satisfied Mind” to a Duane Eddy riff to an Edith Piaf chanson (in French), delivered with both offhand skill and devil-may-care goofiness, as around a boozy campfire or in someone’s smoky living room. Then came “Hallelujah.”

The disarmingly supple voice kicked into gear, encompassing all the sexual yearning and spiritual quest of that tune. Owning it. Murmuring, crooning, unabashedly howling — sometimes all within one line. The room collectively swooned. Rather than milk the moment, as the last echoes of “Hallelujah” faded, Buckley jokily — albeit expertly — picked out the intro to “Stairway to Heaven,” stopping to chat with the audience mid-song.

This was his routine, apparently. Slay, then lower expectations. I wonder now if the intentionally amateurish aspects weren’t so much impish boy stuff, but rather Buckley discovering his superpowers in the moment, onstage. Freaked out, he’d step back from that ledge, not yet ready to fly. Maybe he knew his low-stakes obscurity — what he later called his “café days” — would be short-lived, something to be savored.

Sure enough, within months, limos lined St. Mark’s Place on Monday nights, crowds spilled out onto the sidewalk and we watched from our fire escape as Jeff Buckley was spirited away to the big leagues. It all seemed foretold.

The footage of Buckley performing two years later with bassist Mick Groøndahl, guitarist Michael Tighe and drummer Matt Johnson at Chicago’s Metro on May 13, 1995, is peak Buckley. “Grace” has been out nine months, with Buckley touring nonstop ever since. It shows in the band’s effortless mastery of its boss’ often challenging material — the whisper-to-a-scream “Mojo Pin,” the spellbinding drama of “So Real,” the delicate, pandemonium-inducing “Lilac Wine,” all tracks from his debut.

By now, Buckley is in full possession of his preternatural voice, or rather, it is in full possession of him. Falsetto here, purr there, and a wail sourced from the Sufi Qawwali devotional music he loves and champions. Buckley rarely moves far from his mic, concentrating his energy on singing and executing impressive guitar work. But by the last third of the set, fully on, he steps into abandon: an instrumental of his work-in-progress “Vancouver,” segueing into the Alex Chilton/Big Star cover, “Kanga Roo,” which finds him excitedly pogoing (like a kangaroo?); a full-throttle version of the MC5 gangbuster “Kick Out the Jams,” on which he’s joined at the mic by a stage-diving guitar tech. Unlike most rock artists, he ends the show not with the typical rave-up, but rather sends his band away and leaves the crowd agog with a solo “Hallelujah.”

Between songs throughout the set, he resembles that guy I first saw in ’93, joking, listening to requests, vulnerable, smiling at the ardor beyond the stage lights. He gracefully handles the enthusiastic yelling and passionate outcry from the packed house, only once telling an obnoxious guy to fuck off (which gets a big laugh). But whereas at Sin-é, Buckley made holding back a riveting thing to watch, at Metro, he fulfills the promise he’d shown. He steps to the edge, and he flies.

Jeff Buckley “Live in Chicago” Setlist

Dream Brother

Lover, You Should’ve Come Over

Mojo Pin

So Real

Last Goodbye

Eternal Life

Kick Out the Jams (MC5 cover)

Lilac Wine (James Shelton cover)

What Will You Say

Grace

Vancouver

Kanga Roo (Big Star cover)

Hallelujah (Leonard Cohen cover)

[12pt-times-new-roman]

"Sleight burst in time" excuse me?? what does that MEAN, matthew?? (I'm sure it's just hand-waving the time disparity, which is totally fine, but I wouldn't be surprised if this actually meant something)

"You're abstaining from being undecided?" "Yeah!" Never change, Ashton.

That's the thing, though. FCG is the only one who's staunchly pro-gods, yes, but everyone else is undecided -- they don't have the information they need. Chetney is right, history is written by the winners and the gods have almost always won, they don't know the other side of the story; but when the other side of the story is something that the Ruby Vanguard wants, you'd think that would be a moon-sized red flag. The issue is that the Bells Hells are not grasping or being reminded that the Vanguard is the fucking problem.

They need information they don't have, and now that they're in a place as ancient as Zephrah, they might finally be able to find it. Questioning Predathos' badness is, well, questionable, but not unreasonable; when the Ruby Vanguard wants it, it's probably bad. But questioning whether Ludinus is evil or not, like Laudna just did? Nah. That's not a fucking question, it's not a gray area. And I also just noticed that no one has mentioned Otohan during these arguments in at least a dozen episodes, which is.... concerning.

They continue to head farther into the Gray Valley. They pass by a massive patch of desecrated ground where the ghosts of soldiers still drift, like in the Barbed Fields. "A part of history forced to relive itself over and over again." Beyond that, a hill with a massive cleft down the middle with a structure that's emanating a smell of burning meat.

is.... is that the worst group stealth check they've ever had? 7 fails against 4 successes?

Time for combat! 2 vrocks descend on them.

It's definitely interesting that Matt isn't putting them in initiative order. This is a pretty easy encounter for their level, and maybe it's because of that or because it was a failed stealth check (hence why he doesn't have a map ready), but iirc last time they tried to do combat without initiative order it did not go well, so this not being an absolute clusterfuck is a testament to their skill tbh

They continue to approach the hill. They see a stone fort, very well-built but heavily damaged, at the base of the cleft. There are a few small plumes of smoke rising from it.

Orym recognizes this as the Erudin Bastion, an extension of a temple to Bahamut built in the center of the Gray Valley to keep watch on the demonic activities here. It acted as an early warning system for abyssal incursions from the area. But Chetney, using grim psychometry has a vision, red, like he's looking through a stained glass window. Not long ago, this structure was active, people walked it; then, shouts, flames, dark energy. One by one, the screams are snuffed. Not more than a few days ago.

Well, I don't think Matt could make this any more clear to them.

The team splits up. Half of them climb up the hill with the intent to feather fall down, while the other sneaks up on the ground.

From above, they see the remnants of a terrible battle, bodies and limbs put up on pikes as decoration. Little impish demons fly throughout. A few larger figures walk about this demonic "encampment," warriors with massive swords and wings, keeping watch and looking around. They also make out three iron cages that hold humanoid captives. Lastly, on a stage-like platform, some imps are drawing multiple large ritual circles -- they're building something, preparing something.

Hey, remember last time we saw this happening? Remember how those demons were making ritual circles intended to bring more demons through? Remember how they were working for Tharizdun?

oh so that's why this episode is 5 hours long. that's big map

And, just to top it all off, a massive demon with fur and little wings lands from above.

FCG casts tongues so they can understand them. The larger demon speaks: "hurry, I must feast soon. Prepare, then celebrate."

From an alcove, something grabs one of the sentries, there's a burst of flame, and the sentry doesn't come back out. A figure emerges -- a humanoid, deep red skin, a mane of grayish hair and a beard, handlebar horns, and leathery wings. It seems like this is a fiend (possibly a devil of some kind, based on the red skin) who's taking out these demons. (the way I thought this was Ryn at first--)

Ashton putting the immovable rod in the hammer is so fucking cool!!! That's so sick. Tal really channeled Percy with that one.

Matt is good at miming??? (Also, who gave Sam access to verbs?)

Now we roll initiative. I get the feeling that this combat will take up the majority of the rest of the episode.

In one of the cages, Orym sees two figures: a female soldier with a broken arm, and a small gnomish figure with tattered Tempest Blade armor.

Fearne makes it to the seemingly-friendly fiendish creature. "Who are you?" "A friend." They, with a 30 persuasion check from Fearne, steps into the light. "I have no friends. But for now, we are not enemies." They step past Fearne and raise their sword.

Matt's using the Obann mini, so I'm assuming this guy is some kind of devil. Which has some fucking wild implications regarding the Betrayer Gods right now, if devils are actively fighting against abyssal holds on Exandria.

FCG gets stress points from using bonded blessing?

Imogen casts minute meteors! (I've always pronounced it minUTE, not MINute, but whatever.) this is one of my all-time favorite spells, and I think it's what widogast's web of fire was based on.

Their devil non-enemy flies over to one of the demons, and their sword does radiant damage! They deal a shit ton of damage (84!), and they're a fucking paladin multiclass who can cast 7th level spells.

Laudna using form of dread, unlocking the cage, shouting "you're free!", then immediately climbing into the cage herself is peak comedy.

Oh hey! Ashley remembered enhanced bond!

The devil takes more strikes against the demons. They get a flanking bonus with Chetney, so they are -- at leash mechanically -- considered an "ally." They deal 56 damage with 2 attacks, and Chetney flirts with them.

Chetney gets a kill with bloated agony! To the devil, "now, the big one." "Do not give me orders."

After three disarming strikes, Orym finally disarms the largest demon, and sends its sword spiraling to the ground.

Some vrocks come flying in, piling on. At this point, it's pretty clear that Matt intends for them to release the people in these cages so they can help, because this encounter is far more than the Bells Hells can handle alone.

FCG's spell save is 15?? That's so fucking low, what the hell? At level 10, their save should be at least 17.

Ohhhh, that's also an interesting rules interaction! Because Ashton's subclass is custom, I can't comment on it as extensively, but. One of Ashton's abilities pushes the creature they hit 5 feet away, breaking the grapple the creature had on them.

Imogen goes down, and Laudna challenges the demon that did it. "Let's go, bitch."

Orym makes a devastating blow against the main demon creature in protection of Laudna and Imogen and everyone in the cages.

Gods, Laudna just throwing everything into this one turn after the demon knocks Imogen unconscious, unloading all her spells trying to get away and deal damage........ cinematic glory. AND THEN Marisha using a nat1 to reinforce their love, to just simply stand between Imogen and the demon in her form of dread? peak pining lesbian romance. peak "oh god I'm in love with my best friend and I can't let the rest of the friend group know" energy. FCG gets Imogen up with a healing word, she prevents it from taking reactions, and she quickens invisibility on both her and Laudna. what a fucking turn, Laura Bailey--

"In her head, she hears, 'run away.'" "I say back, 'you do the same.'" And Imogen, because the demon can't take an attack of opportunity, just fucking bolts away.

The devil paladin takes their turn again, pumping a divine smite into their attack. They kill one demon with 77 points of damage, then darts to another one.

A voice enters Chetney's mind. "Take what you have taken. Together, we will do great things." Achievement unlocked: Travis gets a sentient sword

and the main demon teleports away. Orym, holding on to it, falls to the ground. It attempts to make an escape (♫ make an escape ♫). However, the people within the cages begin to make their way out.

As combat winds down, Fearne gets the HDYWTDT on the primary demon leader. Her spell glitters over them, causing lots of pain while looking like an absolutely beautiful display of vines and glitter.

The threat, in the moment, is quelled. Ashton checks, and the power being directed to the ritual circles is interrupted, and they are broken. The Bells Hells breaks open the rest of the cages -- in them, there are two members of the Tempest Blades (Jennis and Errana) and Bearnie, Orym's sister, tending to a dislocated shoulder. Orym bolts into a run toward Bearnie, who runs and gives him a hug. "Take it slow, take it slow." There's a heaping sob before she pulls away from Orym. "I knew they'd come for us, but I didn't think it'd be you." "It's just chance... the Tempest sent us out, just in time, it looks like." "I think so."

The devil lands nearby and approaches. "I am Tevon Klaust... I am one of the many champions of Asmodeus; some watch his domain, and others, like me, act in many realms. To some, I am known as the retribution of the Hells -- an infiltrator, assassin, and scout. To me? I do what is necessary. To whom do you owe fealty?" "Myself." "You... you are outside the knotted weave. While I know not the details, something brews in Exandria that has left my lord shaken, and me with the unique orders to, unless aggression comes to me, work with those who work under the Prime Deities or outside of them. You are lucky today that we meet on common ground; the future does not hold so much grace." "So you're working to help the gods?" "I'm working to help my god. And in some ways, all of the gods, in this moment. Remember they are brethren... this armistice has historical precedent, so do not feel nervous. Enjoy it while it lasts -- lest you seek new interests in your future? There are many gifts that are granted on certain paths."

Fearne holds his attention. "What does that entail, if I were to follow Asmodeus?" "An eternity of purpose, strength, and pleasures for those who fall under his shadow. You walk in the mud of the lowly demon princes. They are outside the divine order and likely stir in the wake of these times; pay them no mind. They are chaos without meaning." He takes Fearne's hand and kisses it. Her hand burns -- but burning doesn't frighten her. On her center knuckle, there's almost a tattoo of a black horned crown (the holy symbol of Asmodeus). "We are allies today. Perhaps, in the future, we will be allies again. The path is open; all you need to do is ask for his aid. Do you accept these terms?" "Let's do it, I'm in." "The pact is sealed... we will meet again." "Promise?" "Unbindingly."

I'm--

Oh no.

He flies up and speaks down to them. "The sky goes red to the south. I think our destinies are entwined." He teleports away.

This just made it so fucking clear that the Bells Hells know criminally little about the pantheon for people acting like they have any kind of authority to decide whether they live or die.

Bearnie led the expedition and expected to use the Bastion as a place of safety, unaware that it had fallen. The survivors were kept for a celebratory feast, for when they brought through the rest of their group. The main demon called itself Extevass the Gluttonous, a servant of Vrudaulin, a demon prince.

They scavenge for materials and head out into the Gray Valley. Bearnie leads them to a hillside, where she magically carves a cavern and closes it behind them for an enclosed campsite.

[disco-girl]

Thank you for the tag! Can I ask for more of Disillusioned?

Hi hi yes ofc! Thanks for motivating me to write more XD

“Wooooooo go Entrails!” Luz yelled, jumping up from the bleachers. The game hadn’t even started yet and she was already attracting the attention of the entire audience. Matt rubbed his temples as Amity watched him with an impish smile.

“They’ll be starting soon. Hope that Gus’ girlfriend shows up soon,” she mused.

Luz put a hand against her forehead and searched the crowd for the girlfriend in question. “I’m sure she will. She wouldn’t let Gus down like that, knowing how important this is to him.”

Matt groaned.

[writer59january13]

Silence reigns supreme in my reich

No don (except me) doth trumpet within the aborted barren reach of freedoms within expansive realm, I annexed courtesy manifest destiny, which peoples now inhabiting said jurisdiction circumscribed by following coordinates - Latitude: 40° 16' 22.20" N Longitude: -75° 29' 29.39" W and for better or worse

must abide by decrees promulgation declared today May 21st, 2024, whence Poet of Perkiomen Valley issues proclamation, regarding any living person paying blind obedience lest posse comitatus act enforced otherwise Herr Harris will bring to fore active duty personnel

to "execute the laws"; however, there be disagreement over whether this language may apply to troops used in an advisory, support, disaster response, or other homeland defense role, as opposed to domestic law enforcement to challenge aforesaid claims which forthwith ownership of said territory

foremost allows, enables and provides yours truly to enact legislation, and especially restitution of comstock act predicated upon due diligence guaranteeing appropriation of all and every rights affecting master and slave

linkedin within said domain. Welcome to the dictatorship (er rather presidency)

of Putin diehard adherent.

Matter of fact, a favorite author of mine crafted the following words of inspiration,

which evocation will help shed figurative light on caricatures of terror reign as forty fifth president targeted by political cartoonists, but struggled to come up with an image that sticks. In october 2016, Vanity Fair

made a video of four of its cartoonists—

Edward Sorel, Steve Brodner,

Philip Burke, and Robert Risko—

drawing Donald Trump.

They clearly enjoyed themselves,

exploring every aspect of his physique:

 his “girth,” the fact that

“there’s so much of him” (Burke);

the hair that “essentially closely a beret

flipped forward on his head” (Risko);

the eyes that show “greed, disdain” (Burke);

the “marvelously rat like” nose (Brodner);

the mouth a “sphincter muscle” (Risko);

the “sleazy” look (Sorel);

the facial features that resemble

“piss holes in the snow” (Brodner). And now? How have artists and cartoonists

dealt with Trump since he became president?

We’ve seen cartoons of the orange

potus smooching Vladimir Putin

and groping the Statue of Liberty.

We’ve seen him drawn (by Barry Blitt

in The New Yorker) as a fat-assed golfer

driving balls into the White House.

We’ve seen him caricatured (by Pat Oliphant

for The Nib) as a preening SS officer

being heiled by Steve Bannon.

We’ve seen him portrayed

(by Signe Wilkinson of the Philadelphia

Daily News) linking arms

with a Confederate and a Nazi.

We’ve seen him depicted

(by Mike Luckovich of The Atlanta Journal-Constitution)

as Jabba the Hutt, holding Lady Liberty in chains. We’ve seen him represented (by Matt Wuerker in Politico) as a kook in a straitjacket. We’ve seen him rendered (by Ann Telnaes of The Washington Post) as a red-faced fathead sitting on the toilet while he plots to pull out of the Paris climate accord.

Putin (also fell prey

to his fair share of cartoonists) not only as Vlad the Impaler reincarnate (a notion in mind of at least one writer), but also various and sundry other manifestations.

The self styled ruthless thug classified as a voivode (prince) of Wallachia (part of modern Romania).

Surrounded by enemies that included the Hungarians, the Ottomans, his younger brother, and Walachian nobility, Vlad employed extremely cruel gruesome measures to inspire fear in those who opposed him.

He earned his nickname by impaling his enemies on stakes.

No argument Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin equals and invariably will outrank Vlad the Impaler the second son of Vlad Dracul who became ruler of Wallachia in 1436.

Impossible mission to comprehend propensity exhibiting characteristics linkedin as impish, hellish, ghoulish... fiend whereby pathological pretensions besotted (punch drunk with delight) to incinerate, eradicate, annihilate, essentially to deplorably, heinously, loathingly... interblend all manner of atrocious, deleterious, insidious, opprobrious, vicious... lend ding his own vainglorious trademark to offend

Homo sapiens who strive toward repairing ruptures versus to rend usurpation of life, liberty and continuity of civilization to upend.

Worst nightmare scenario unfolding before our collective eyes Ukraine suffers blitzkrieg Russian soldiers devastatingly carpet bomb major metropolitan areas civilian population suffers major loss of innocent lives linkedin with accompanied psychological fallout, especially affecting babies, children and youth.

All commands issued by autocratic monster probably housed within secure bunker, meanwhile countless thousands or millions of battle fatigued people hunker among ruins gingerly negotiating their way thru rubble analogous to spelunker.

Though yours truly removed (think physically), where chaos and pandemonium run amuck and terror unruly, overt rampant upheaval plagues long established generations of Slavic peoples, this commonplace American experiences vicarious grief, when tragedy viewed online and/or television heart wrenching images also evoke anger being linkedin to most abominable, horrible, reprehensible, creatures that roamed the terrestrial firm

since time immemorial.

Major war crimes against humanity necessitate urgent punishment, if in fact such a global entity exists to condemn and convict the incontestable tyrant, yet never in the annals of twenty first century geopolitical webbed zeitgeist

did self anointed sovereign

access nuclear weapons

to obliterate fellow Earthlings.

[thelensofyashunews]

NYC's wolfacejoeyy Achieves Heartthrob Status with Romantic 'Valentino' Mixtape

wolfacejoeyy absorbs his myriad influences and filters them through his experience as an artist and college student in New York City. An amalgamation of many of the most innovative styles percolating on the East Coast, injected with a dose of the 21-year-old's impish charm, joeyy shares Valentino, his debut full-length. 

Spanning 13 songs, seamlessly transitioning from one to the next, Valentino is a glistening companion for late night flings, morning-after hangovers, and everything in between. Leaning into his loverboy persona–the album title is inspired by the legendary romantic lead, not the high fashion brand–Valentino refines joeyy's euphoric sound, which combines the insistent propulsion of Jersey club with the witty sleaze and sparkling samples of sexy drill, adding a dose of sweet R&B melodies and seductive storytelling that sets the project apart from his previous work. 

Crafted by wolfacejoeyy along with a core group of producers that includes PoWR Trav, SoundByNova, Matt Nadler, and most crucially, WhereIs22, aka the actor Michael Rainey Jr. (Power, Power Book II: Ghost), Valentino is sonically rich and compulsively listenable, flowing from style to style with ease. At the center of it all is Joeyy, expertly hosting the proceedings with an sly smile on his face. Single "double tap" employs MCVERTT to bring his futuristic synths, ear-catching sound effects, and irresistible percussion, as joeyy carves through the crowded club-like atmosphere with laster-like precision. "Talk Less" finds joeyy harmonizing with Reuben Aziz over a shiny instrumental that would have found a home at urban radio during the Neptunes-dominated heyday of the early 2000s. Recently shared as a freestyle on On The Radar, "Alexis Texas" transforms the synth solo from Tyler, The Creator & Frank Ocean's "She" into a sexy drill anthem, as wolfacejoeyy literally howls like a wolf in the ad-libs. 

Valentino is home to the buzzing single "cake," which went viral on TikTok, along with acclaimed singles like the heartfelt "don't be dishonest," and "I Know," produced by WhereIs22. "cake" has quickly become a fan-favorite, generating over 160K combined views across social platforms before its official release, earning co-signs from stars like Sexyy Red, Rubi Rose, Veeze, and Kaliii on social media. The song, and it's line "Ok, for sure/I tell her she's sexy, she said 'period, purr'," has inspired more than 47.8k video creations on TikTok. The flirty music video for "cake" recently surpassed 2.6 million views on YouTube, becoming joeyy's most-viewed video to date. Featuring additional production from Synthetic and many others, Valentino is available now on all platforms.

With his new music, joeyy is aiming to improve upon his breakout 2023, in which he partnered with Whereis22, on the acclaimed EP 22Joeyy. The album featured the single “weekend” ft. Cash Cobain & Chow Lee, acclaimed by Pitchfork, and additional guest spots from SoFaygo and B-Lovee. Joeyy discussed the project in an interview with BET, and a profile in HYPEBEAST that came out earlier this year, and his fiery 2023 inspired Complex to place him on their list of Rappers to Watch in 2024. After the success of 22Joeyy, joey kept the train rolling, opening for Eem Triplin on tour, throwing a headlining show earlier this year at Baby’s All Right in Brooklyn, and delivering a standout performance at Rolling Loud California 2024. With over 1 million streams per week on his catalog, joeyy rolls into Spring 2024 with a head of steam.

With Valentino, joeyy establishes himself as the rap game's romantic lead. Stay tuned for the music video for "Solar," a highlight from the project, dropping soon on joeyy's YouTube.

[positivelybeastly]

64.media. (hellsite dot com) /5402715f9c0cbcbc2f30eee03cc6998a/123c764bd5cd1eb9-9d/s1280x1920/3ccc4baf20f6a01363c182ff42d4b6b1cc1b1167.pnj

I ain't never done nothin' like this afore, so I pray you'll pardon me if I haven't quite got the procedure down. Name's Matt Hawk, though you might better know me as the Two-Gun Kid. Hawkeye introduced me to this newfangled dating app and accordin' to this, I figure we got a lot in common? I ain't quite up on all this here future nonsense, and I don't know what a Star Wars or a Star Trek is (aliens?) though I think if I had to pick, I would prefer a Star Trek since I don't think waging war on the aliens without cause is an efficient use of time or energy.

(sorry, I couldn't figure out how to send a pic on anon, I hope the link goes through)

Hank has to confess, it certainly isn't who he thought would be sending in a bingo card - at least in part because he hadn't even been aware that Mr. Hawk was even in this time period. Last he'd heard, hadn't he gone back through time with Clint? But then again, the world was a vast and mysterious place, and there was quite enough insanity going on that he wouldn't discount the possibility he'd simply missed the fact that there was a bonafide cowboy running around in the twenty first century.

Again.

"Well, it's a pleasure to properly make your acquaintance, Mr. Hawk! I don't believe we had much time to say hello while you were visiting last time you were in town - you know how it is, a little bit of dismantling alternate universe Serpent Crown empires here, a little bit of fighting Kang the Conqueror in the 1870s there - but Clint's had nothing but nice things to say about you."

Which, actually is saying something, considering what Clint was like about most people.

An impish smile does cross his lips at the 'Kink Indulgent' section being filled in. Is Matt aware of how sex has changed in the last 150 years? Or is missionary still just a little bit risqué? But he doesn't want to embarrass the fellow. This is, after all, a form of flirting they're indulging in.

"No less than five bingos, Mr. Hawk. As a scientist, that does seem to suggest a certain compatibility. Perhaps I should treat you to lunch at some point? Has Clint seen fit to introduce you to the divinity that is a good chicken katsu curry yet?"

[kurokawaia]

❛ Motorcycle ❜

postfire!Mello x Fem!Reader

WC; 3.1k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; Fingering, motorcycle sex, slightly degrative? degrative praising, name calling ⇢ slut, brat, Exhibitionism? voyeurism? public sex

name ; {C/n} (Cover name) | True name ; {Y/n} {L/n}

m.list | death note m.list ─── part 1 | part 2

"Matt," I whispered, my voice filled with a mix of anticipation and longing. With my legs playfully dangling off the armrest of the single-seat couch, I allowed myself to surrender to the moment. My head flung back, resting on the opposite armrest, causing the world to appear upside down.

"Yeah," he replies, his voice tinged a little weary. He dug in his tweed jacked pocket and removed a chrome silver lighter from it. He lit the flame as it sprung out with a click sound when he opened the lighter, casting a warm light on his face. He grasped deeply at the cigarette, lighting the ember at its edge so passionately that it scorched his lips, glowing bright in the process. He tilts his head back, breathes out slowly once more, and then releases what must be a long stream of smoke sailing slowly away on the wind.

"I wanna try one." I say, eyeing the cigarette in his hand. He knocks the cigarette, and the embers fall to the floor.

"Uh, I don't think Mello would like that," he replies.

"What does she want now?" he interrupts, speaking a bit irritated, then finally takes off the headphones, out of which comes a mop of blonde hair. In one fluid motion, he quickly retrieves the chocolate bar; the wrapper makes a very annoying crinkle as he rolls the rest down further and takes a good bite. As he waits for an answer, he slightly narrows his eyes and hints at a vision of curiosity and exasperation.

The girl's a smoker. Matt chuckled a bit as he said it and then took another small puff; the glowing cherry of the cigarette danced light across his face for a half-second before the illumination died against the dimly lit surroundings. Thin spirals of smoke curl and dance around him in the air.

"She's not having one, then," Mello strikes back, his voice coated in a combination of defiance and frustration so palpable one could almost taste it. The faint scent of chocolate seems to hang in the air as he takes another bite, the artificial sweetness almost a distraction from the tension of the room.

"What- Why?" I wail.

"Because I said so."

"You're no fun, Mello," I reply, mischief in my eyes. With force, I cross my arms across my chest, dramatizing the action, and can't help the impish smile that curls my lips, knowing my words are a prod. The room seems to hold its breath for a moment—anticipation hangs in the air.

And oh boy, did it work. The face of Mello twisted into a grimace of irritation and disgust mixed together; furrowed brows and very tensed jaw; arms crossed, tense muscles; the body language is betraying his building frustration. A flicker of fire danced in those same eyes, proving that my comment had hit a nerve.

Immediately, a mixture of satisfaction and dread flooded me. It was like the tempest of success was awakening and I could almost smell the ozone in the air and was prepared for the storm that was going to wash over me with full fury, not knowing in which form Mello's wrath would ensue.

"\"{C/n}," Mello says, his voice oozing with the detached cool of arctic ice as he gets off his chair. He stands up straight; his form displays arrogance and rebellion as though he were defiantly daring whatever could come his way. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his tight leather pants; the material forms around his fingers, tight and tense. His gaze sharpened and focused, almost cutting a straight line through the air, cultivated toward me.

"Yes," I say, my voice barely above a whisper as I lift my head to gaze upon Mello, now standing directly in front of the couch upon which I had been reclining. My eyes begin to trace the angles of his face. There's intensity there, etched in his features.

My eyes drifted down, almost involuntarily, as I looked at him, and even from my vantage, I saw the fading red and purple marks on his skin that I had caused. There, peeping out from between the edges of his leather vest, were the hickies—thus specified the remnants of one of the many nights we had shared—marking his abdomen. I could feel a blush creeping onto my cheeks at my great embarrassment and wanting all rolled into one feeling, remembering that night so easily.

I lose myself for a moment in the memory: the heat of our bodies intertwined, the softness of his skin beneath my lips as I trailed down his body to suck his dick. The sight of Mello, unashamed in showing those marks, sends this rush of fire through me, a reminder of just how intimately we are connected.

"I am getting more chocolate," Mello announces as he strides toward the door with heavy steps. His leather-clad figure strides into the room, oozing confidence and full of purpose, and everyone immediately takes heed of his arrival. The sound of the boots striking the floor resonates in the room, creating an undertone to the situation unfolding at hand.

I run quickly afterward, my heart aflutter, ready for anything. As I move faster, my flowing skirt dances with me, going in rhythm with every pace as I try to keep up with his obviously long stride, the fabric fluttering against my legs. A soft reminder of motion and movement.

We could feel the adventure waiting for us inside as we approached the door. The scent—the delicious sense of further chocolates, new tastes, or perhaps the reintroduction of older ones—estranged something within me. Sweetness touched the tip of my tongue, and the feeling hyper-extended my senses to their fullest.

With a mix of anticipation and nervousness, I moved through them quickly, my steps echoing next to Mello's. There was an odd sense of deja vu as we pressed on together, ready to satisfy our shared desire for chocolate, and the something else about him that I could already tell was on his mind.

Clearly the eyes twinkle in delight as the bike belonging to Mello appears in the front. I do not hesitate for one second as I run past him. There is a fresh gust of energy that propels me toward the motorbike. I mount the bike but I don't sit on the saddle as one might tend to surmise about me. On the contrary, I drop myself onto the saddle, my legs splayed out on the sides.

As I straddled the bicycle, a grin, playful, impudent, spread its way across my face as if in reflection of the sense of childlike joy. I had the feeling Mello purposely took shorter steps not to lose but rather to tantalize me as he came closer. And that only made it more exciting, with heightened expectation, as I waited for him to come.

My short skirt and the fishnet tights I wore made the back of my thighs cling to the sticky leather seat of the bike. I can feel the texture of the material against my skin, a slight discomfort that is overshadowed. Slightly moving about the seat, my skirt rustles softly with the drag, a mix of anticipation and a touch of impatience.

"Mello, come on," I say louder. "You're taking too long!"

"I'm coming," He growls at my sudden burst of energy. He finally stands before my figure, touring over me. I couldn't help but admire his features, golden blonde hair with pretty ocean eyes. I take a quick skim over the scar he had earned during the fire. The scar is between his waist to shoulder and continues up to his nose and left eye.

He stands before me, his presence commanding and magnetic. As he positions himself between my legs, I instinctively spread them apart, creating a space for him to be closer. 

Bending down, Mello's face hovers near my neck, his warm breath grazing my skin, sending shivers down my spine. The sensation is both electrifying and intoxicating, causing my body to respond involuntarily to his proximity. 

His voice, low and husky, reaches my ears, his words laced with a mix of amusement and admonishment. "Y'know, you've been acting like a brat these past couple of days," he breathes, his words tinged with a hint of playful reprimand. The sound of his voice sends a jolt of excitement through me, a reminder of the connection we share.

His hands, strong and possessive, grip the plushy flesh of my hips, asserting his presence and control. The touch sends a surge of desire coursing through me, a physical manifestation of the tension that has been building between us. The sensation of his touch against my skin is both comforting and exhilarating, a reminder of the passion that lies beneath the surface.

"Yeah?" I say swallowing that growing lump in my throat.

"Mhmm," he mumbles, his warm breath tickling my skin as his mouth leaves a trail of hot, lingering kisses. Starting from just below my ear, his lips move with deliberate slowness, tracing a path down towards my collarbones. Each kiss ignites a fire within me, causing a breathy sigh to escape my lips, a testament to the pleasure coursing through my veins.

His lips, soft and demanding, leave a trail of heat in their wake. The sensation is both tantalizing and intoxicating as if every touch is a promise of the passion that lies ahead. I can feel the weight of his desire in each press of his mouth against my skin, a silent declaration of his longing.

As his kisses descend, my body responds instinctively, arching slightly towards him, seeking more of his touch. The contrast between his warm mouth and the coolness of the air sends shivers down my spine, heightening my senses and deepening the connection between us.

"All needy," he remarks, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and desire. Mello's hands, now exploring my body, skimmed over my thighs, sending a shiver of anticipation through me. His touch is both gentle and possessive, his fingers tracing a path under my skirt, teasingly playing with the flimsy material of my fishnet tights.

As he tugs at the delicate fabric, a surge of heat courses through me, intensifying the desire that already burns within. The sensation of his fingers against my skin sends waves of pleasure cascading through my body.

His touch becomes bolder, his fingers digging into the softness of my thighs, leaving a delicious ache in their wake. The mixture of pleasure and slight pain elicits an uninhibited moan from deep within me, escaping shamelessly from my parted lips. I am consumed by the sensation. The combination of his touch, the teasing tug of my tights, and the pressure of his fingers against my skin creates the intoxicating pleasure I feel from him. 

I heard a faint snapping noise from where Mello's hands were making me gasp at what he's done. "Baby, I just bought those," I breathlessly say as my nails do into the leather seat of the bike. "I'll just buy you another pair," He replies slightly panting as lifts his head from my neck I give a quick look down and see the marks of red and slight purple scattered across that side of my neck and chest. 

Mello's lips, now exploring the other side of my neck, dip lower with a newfound intensity. With each suction, he applies more force, leaving a trail of heated kisses in his wake. The sensation is both electrifying and intoxicating, causing me to release my grip on the seat and instinctively clutch his jacket, pulling myself closer to him.

As I pull him towards me, a low chuckle escapes his lips, a mix of amusement and satisfaction at the effect he has on me. 

In this heightened state of arousal, I feel his touch shift, his fingers now venturing toward my most sensitive area. Through the fabric of my underwear, I can feel the pressure of his fingers as they prod at my clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. The anticipation builds, and I can't help but whimper in response, a sound that betrays the overwhelming desire that consumes me. The combination of his lips on my neck and his fingers teasing my most intimate spot creates a symphony of pleasure that leaves me yearning for more.

As my underwear is shifted to the side, I can feel the cool air against my exposed skin. In response, I wrap my arm around Mello's neck, pull him closer, and entangle my hand in his luscious blonde hair. With a gentle tug, I elicit a deep, primal moan from him, the vibrations reverberating against my sensitive flesh.

My other arm remains securely pressed against his chest, unwilling to let go, The connection between us is palpable, a tangible force that binds us together in this moment of raw desire. His fingers, now guided by his own hunger, venture further down, tracing a path along my slick slit. The touch is electrifying, causing me to tremble in his hold, my body responding to his every movement. A helpless whimper escapes my lips, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that courses through me.

"Already so wet, such a needy slut," he remarks, his voice laced with a smug smirk against my skin. His words only serve to intensify the desire that burns within me, fueling the flames of passion that threaten to consume us both. It's a moment of vulnerability and surrender, where inhibitions are cast aside, and I am completely at his mercy.

"Hah, Mello," I moan.

"What, Brat? You like it, don't you? The feeling of getting caught, such a slut for me."

In this heightened state of arousal, the world around us fades into oblivion, and all that matters is the intoxicating dance between us. The sensations become all-encompassing, overwhelming my senses and pushing me closer to the edge of ecstasy. It's a moment of pure indulgence, where pleasure reigns supreme, and I am lost in the symphony of desire that unfolds between us.

As Mello's fingers push past my slick folds, a surge of pleasure courses through me, leaving me breathless and desperate for more. With a deliberate curl of his fingers, he finds my seeping hole, drenched with arousal, and plunges into the depths of my desire.

The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and intensity that leaves me unable to contain my moans. I press my lips against his shoulder, muffling the sounds that escape from deep within me, as I chant his name. His fingers, skilled and relentless, explore the depths of my core, igniting a fire that consumes my every thought. Each movement, each stroke, sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through my body.

As I surrender to the intoxicating rhythm of his touch, the combination of his skilled fingers and the intensity of our connection pushes me closer to the edge, teetering on the precipice of release. It's a moment of pure bliss, where time stands still, and I am consumed by the overwhelming pleasure that courses through my veins.

As Mello's fingers continue their relentless rhythm, pumping in and out of my seeping hole, the familiar coil of pleasure tightens inside my stomach. I wrap my shaky legs around him, seeking to anchor myself to him amidst the overwhelming pleasure. My body quivers with anticipation, responding to his every touch, every movement.

"Mello, Mello, M-Mello," I chant his name into his neck, my voice filled with a mixture of desire and need. The tears welling in my eyes are not from pain but from the overwhelming pleasure that threatens to consume me entirely.

In response to my plea, he groans against my neck, his voice laced with desire. He begins to stimulate my clit with the pad of his thumb, adding another layer of pleasure to the already intense sensations. The touch is electrifying, causing me to arch my back in response, seeking more of the exquisite pleasure he offers.

"What do you call me when we are close like this? I want you to call me that," he whispers, his voice filled with a primal need. His words send shivers down my spine, fueling the fire that burns within me. I understand his desire for a deeper connection, a more intimate bond in this moment of shared vulnerability.

Through the haze of pleasure, I manage to sob out his true name, the name that holds a deeper meaning between us. "Mihael," I gasped, my voice filled with reverence and longing. It's a moment of profound intimacy, where our desires align, and we are united in our pursuit of pleasure.

In this heightened state of passion, the world around us fades away, and all that matters is the intoxicating dance between us. The pleasure builds, the tension mounting with each passing second until I am on the precipice of release. It's a moment of pure surrender, where pleasure reigns supreme, and I am consumed by the overwhelming ecstasy that engulfs me. 

"Come for me, {Y/n}." Waves of ecstasy wash over me, leaving my legs trembling and weak from the intensity of the sensations. He slips his fingers from my hole and I continue to tremble from the aftermath of the orgasm. I managed to release myself from Mello's neck and move away from his hold, he dragged his tongue on the fingers that were drenched in my come causing me to get embarrassed and pull myself into his neck once more so he couldn't see the blush on my face. 

I gaze up to the apartment we were shortly staying at and I see Matt sitting on the window sill with crossed legs taking puffs from his cigarette and looking down at the both of us. The smirk was prominent on Matt's face. His glasses have been disregarded, knowing now for sure that he had witnessed the whole thing. 

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | death note m.list