#it felt like an oddly appropriate activity

[accipitae]

do you think collecting driftwood to grow plants on counts as a Tu'Bishvat celebration?

[pin-k-ink]

vision // edogawa ranpo

tw ⇢ mutual pining, sexual tension, teasing, slight angst if you squint, wet dreams, public sex, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, pet names, nipple play

wc ⇢ 5.8k

You had known Ranpo for as long as you could remember. The two of you were inseparable from the moment you became coworkers together at the Armed Detective Agency. His brilliant deductive mind and your keen intuition made you an unbeatable team on cases. More than that, you shared an effortless camaraderie that went beyond the workplace.

Ranpo was your closest friend, the person who knew you most intimately. You could spend hours together without uttering a single word, simply basking in each other's presence. He could read you like a book, preternaturally attuned to the subtlest shifts in your moods and thoughts in a way no one else came close to. Likewise, you took pride in being one of the few people who could cajole genuine smiles and laughs from behind Ranpo's typical affectation of eccentric genius.

In truth, you had come to rely on the warmth of Ranpo's companionship more than you cared to admit aloud. His humor, intellect, and strangely caring soul turned out to be curiously addictive sources of comfort and joy in your life. You never felt more understood and accepted than in Ranpo's presence.

Which is why his recent behavioral transformation had been so jarring and difficult for you to process...

It had started with a series of oddly averted glances and awkward fumbles for excuses to exit your company sooner than usual. You tried to brush it off at first, assuming Ranpo was merely sweeping into another of his eccentricities. But the distancing only increased, to the point where he was now actively dodging any attempts at casual conversation or even making eye contact when circumstances demanded you be in the same room together.

Puzzled and more than a little hurt, you found yourself riddled with self-doubt. Had you somehow committed a social transgression severe enough to make even your closest friend recoil? You wracked your brain but could find no rational explanation for why Ranpo had suddenly started treating you with such stilted formality and emotional distance. All you knew was that you ached for the lack of his easy presence and playful teasing.

Finally, after nearly three weeks of such inexplicable strain between you two, you could bear it no longer. You cornered Ranpo in the quiet study he had appropriated as his makeshift office den, where he jumped nearly a foot in the air upon your unannounced entrance.

"Ranpo-kun..." You fought to keep your tone calm and even rather than berating as you might have preferred. "We need to talk. About what's going on between us."

The brown-haired detective blinked owlishly before visibly attempting to smooth his features into a more insouciant mask. Still, you caught the fractional wince and throat-clearing before he responded in that deliberately arch lilt, "Whatever could you mean? Nothing at all is amiss between us, my dear friend. I've simply been preoccupied with an especially vexing case as of late that has demanded the entirety of my mental faculties, that's all..."

You leveled Ranpo with a deeply skeptical look, refusing to allow him to deflect and dissemble so easily. Not when it came to the sudden, painful rift forming between the two of you.

"Don't give me that, Ranpo," you stated, taking a few steps further into his private study so you could properly face him without obstruction. "We've known each other too long for me to buy such a blatant attempt at feigning nonchalance."

You watched the glass-smooth mask Ranpo tried so hard to maintain develop the barest perceptible fracture at your reproving words. His emerald gaze skittered away from your probing stare, adam's apple bobbing with an audible swallow as his fingers toyed agitatedly with the spine of whatever book he'd been pretending to read.

A tiny, insistent kernel of hurt took root in your chest at his obvious discomfort simply being in your presence these days. What had happened to your once-effortless rapport? You found yourself yearning with almost physical desperation to call back the easy camaraderie and playful teasing that had become such an ingrained, cherished part of your daily life.

"Ranpo..." You tried again, allowing a slight huskiness of pleading to unmask your voice this time. "Please, just tell me what's wrong? Why are you shutting me out like this? Have I...have I done something to offend you somehow? You know I would never intentionally—"

"No!" The explosive syllable had your teeth clicking shut in surprise as Ranpo abruptly dropped all pretenses, his countenance suffused with unmistakable anguish. "No, you've done nothing wrong at all. This, this distancing...it's entirely my own failing I'm afraid."

Despite the perdurable reassurance, your frown only deepened at the haggard edge clouding Ranpo's expression as he spoke. You waited with a weighty pause, sensing there was more the brilliant detective wished to divulge. And indeed, after toying with the pen in his hand for a few tense heartbeats, Ranpo seemed to come to a resolution.

"Tell me..." His gaze finally met yours again, and you felt your breath hitch at the sheer, unguarded molten heat searing through his irises. "Have you ever been, ah, afflicted...by a truth so paradoxical and compelling that it becomes nigh impossible to properly puzzle out or ignore, no matter how deliriously one might wish to do so?"

The words were so quintessentially Ranpo - profoundly cerebral to the point of near-incomprehensibility. And yet, you found yourself intuiting the deeper, infinitely more visceral layer of suggestion roiling just beneath his flowery prevarication.

Arousal, white-hot and illicit, licked through your veins as you held Ranpo's smoldering stare. Your throat worked convulsively against the desire to clear it while he watched you with that smoldering, leonine intensity further reducing your higher reasoning functions to cinders.

Finally, after what felt like an eon of crackling tension, you managed a faintly croaked, "I... I think I understand what you're trying to say, sort of..."

Surprise and dark approval warred over Ranpo's expression at your ambiguous acknowledgment. His free hand clenched at his side as though restraining the base prompting to reach for you, and you held your breath at the burning promise contained in that simple, abortive movement.

When Ranpo spoke again, his timbre was rendered low and husky with undisguised yearning. "Deduce this for me then, my dear friend...what sort of 'affliction' has been plaguing my thoughts and compelled me to shamefully withdraw from your brilliant presence as of late?" His eyes held yours as though they could convey all the scorching, ravenous desire and conflict roiling through that peerless psyche.

You swallowed thinly as your overheated senses catalogued the overall picture Ranpo was suggesting - his tormented avoidance, his thinly veiled innuendos about tantalizing, impossible truths, his mercurial shifts from anguish to intensity to open temptation as he devoured you with that ravenous stare. So much began to make a dizzying, dangerous sort of sense, unlocking new, forbidden dimensions in your relationship that you had never allowed yourself to fully acknowledge until now.

Still, more than anything, you craved to unravel this mystery laid before you in all its salacious, intoxicating totality. So you met Ranpo's burning look with one of your own guileless yearning and uttered in a breathless rasp:

"Very well...challenge accepted. I'll deduce the desire you've been so tirelessly trying to deny, Ranpo. For now."

Ranpo's eyes glittered with undisguised relish at your bold acceptance of his cryptic challenge. You could practically see the gears turning behind that peerless intellect as he avidly drank in your rapt, guileless expression of determination.

"Excellent," he purred in that effortless baritone of his, somehow rendering the simple affirmation into a darkly evocative caress. "Then allow me to start providing you with some...initial clues to unravel this deliciously paradoxical conundrum I've found myself in."

With casual, unhurried grace, Ranpo circled behind you so his presence was a scorching imprint against your back. You stifled a small shudder at the overwhelming mahogany and clove essence of his cologne that always managed to leave you just a touch light-headed.

His palm came to rest at the elegant curve of your waist, his deceptively slight frame radiating banked heat that seemed to scorch straight through the thin material of your blouse. You felt his lips, plush and soft, brush whisper-light against the sensitive whorls of your ear as he murmured in a molten undertone, "Tell me, have you perhaps noticed any...changes in my typical patterns of behavior beyond the distance? Any indications that something preternatural has been plaguing my restive mind as of late?"

Despite the innocuous phrasing, the timbre of Ranpo's words leaked unmistakable layers of carnal suggestion that had your skin prickling with gooseflesh. Coupled with the torturous graze of his breath fanning over your throat and the possessive drift of his fingertips drawing nonsensical patterns along your side, you felt utterly suffused by his masculine presence in a way you had never fully appreciated until now.

You struggled to collect your scattered thoughts enough to consider Ranpo's cryptic prompt. Had you noticed any peculiarities in his behavior aside from the unexplained avoidance that had sparked this entire situation? Now that you focused, casting your mind back over recent observations while firmly ignoring how Ranpo's thumbs had begun tracing feather-light, searing circles over your hipbones, you recalled a few...instances.

"Well," you finally managed in a slightly husky tone, proud that you only stuttered minutely over the words, "Now that you mention it, I do remember a few times recently where you seemed...distracted. Flushed, even, despite the room being perfectly temperate. And your breathing would become rather unsteady at seemingly random moments."

You felt more than heard the quiet rumble of approval against your back as Ranpo hummed his affirmation, his exhalations drifting hot and damp over your pulse point in a way that threatened to completely unhinge your powers of concentration.

"Very good, very astute deductions so far," he praised in a voice gone low and heavy with undisguised wanting. "And did any other...physical tells accompany these momentary lapses, I wonder? Some sign of burning distraction, perhaps? An inability to fully conceal certain aspects of my usual disciplined control?"

The words were cloaked in academic impartiality, but the sinuous inference lacing every syllable made your thighs squeeze convulsively together as you pieced together the image Ranpo was so delectably, dangerously insinuating. You sucked in a sharp breath, heat lancing riotously through your body.

"I...I believe so, yes," you whispered throatily. "There were times where your pupils would dilate unnaturally, your breathing turned shallow, and a faint sheen of exertion gleamed over your brow despite an obvious lack of any taxing mental or physical stimuli."

Ranpo released a shuddering exhalation against the slender column of your throat that had you reflexively arching with tangible yearning. His fingers traced back up your sides, tantalizingly close to the swell of your breasts, before reversing their path almost punitively. You bit your lip to stifle a desperate whimper, and felt the distinct twitch of reaction against the rigid plains of his abdomen pressed to the small of your back.

"Oh, you are good at this game, aren't you?" He growled with clear, undisguised approval and answering desire flooding his tone. "What other salacious conclusions can you intuit from these lascivious hints I've been providing? I beg you to exercise that matchless intuition to its fullest, because I absolutely crave to hear you give proper definition aloud to the desire rapidly becoming my undoing..."

The challenge Ranpo issued proved as maddeningly elusive as the brilliant detective himself over the following days. You found yourself utterly consumed by the delicious vexation of attempting to unravel the inscrutable riddle Ranpo kept dangling with teasing hints and loaded innuendos.

At times his clues came in the form of brooding stares that lingered a beat too long, his silvery gaze drifting over your form with a heavy-lidded promise you couldn't quite decipher. Like he was committing your every line and curve to the ruthlessly methodicalprocessings of his formidable intellect through those mercurial depths. You shivered at the thought, uncertain whether it thrilled or unnerved you more.

Other times, Ranpo's provocations took on a more overt, sensual tilt. You'd catch the Detective Prince's throat working subtly as you laughed and joked together like old times, feel his eyes track the reflexive motion with raptor-like intensity. More than once, he seemed to drift closer until the clove-and-mahogany richness of his cologne threatened to utterly intoxicate your senses.

"Ranpo?" You found yourself murmuring on one such occasion, very much cognizant of how his dilated pupils followed the rise and fall of your chest. "Is everything...okay?"

Rather than answer directly, he simply hummed a low, rumbly acknowledgment that vibrated straight through to settle liquid-hot in your lower belly. You tried not to squirm beneath the laser focus of his rapt regard, feeling somewhat like a specimen being ruthlessly catalogued and deconstructed for careful study.

"You seem..." The words caught in your suddenly dry throat as Ranpo leaned fractionally closer, his thumb grazing over the thundering leap of your pulse point with maddening suggestion. "...distracted."

The only response was another indecipherable, baritone rumble, but this time the heat in his eyes unmistakably spiked. You finally regained enough of your faculties to stammer a hasty excuse and retreat from the powderkeg of tension sparking between you both. But not before catching the bare hint of a smug, knowing smile ghosting over Ranpo's sensuous lips for just a breath.

Much later, in the quiet, still hours before dawn, you found your restless mind replaying that freighted moment over and over again. You tossed and turned, highly aware of the burn of arousal slowly simmering through your system as it gradually dawned on you.

All of Ranpo's veiled remarks, evasions, and simmering looks over the past while - they added up to a single, heady conclusion too illicit and tantalizing to fully credit even as it pulsed through your thoughts. As preposterous as it seemed, the weight of the detective's heated stares and suggestive innuendos hinted that his much-vaunted deductive logic had somehow become...consumed.

With thoughts of an increasingly intimate, fevered bent centered entirely around your most elemental reactions and fantasies.

Images unbidden began to assault your whirling mind then - Ranpo tossing in his sweat-soaked sheets, utterly assailed by improbable visions of deduction taken to its carnal limits. You pictured his quickened breath catching on a moan as he imagined uncovering every hidden, shameful secret of your body's deepest wants. His graceful hands wandering over heated expanses of bare skin as he sought clue after clue to chart the gasping pathways that led you unraveled and shuddering beneath him...

You awoke with a strangled cry on your lips, rendered tacky with sweat and near-delirious with need in the aftermath of that torrid fantasy. As improbable as it seemed, some part of you couldn't reject the notion that Ranpo had been pursuing a more...intimate understanding as of late. And based on the relentless tensions sparked between you, he seemed resolutely committed to achieving nothing less than your complete surrender so he could study the matter exhaustively.

The thought alone made a shudder of yearning convulse through you, leaving you profoundly unsettled and burning with a gnawing, thirsty curiosity. Just how far would the Detective Prince pursue the sublime riddles your body seemed to present him with?

And could you truly find the willpower to deny indulging whatever fevered, fastidious measures Ranpo wished to exercise in unraveling those delicious mysteries for himself?

With each passing day, Ranpo's smoldering looks and heated provocations descended into brasher, utterly unsubtle insinuations. While you had initially deduced that the incandescent Detective Prince was wrestling with scorching visions of an intimate, carnal nature centered around you, it gradually became apparent there were even more profoundly illicit dimensions to his forbidden reveries.

He wanted you to extrapolate the embroidered details, the lush sensory fantasies plaguing his unconscious mind with visceral need. Ranpo wished for nothing less than your complete discernment of every sordid image and dark craving that had awakened his body thrumming with desperation upon daybreak.

The evidence came in the form of lingering, assessing glances that drifted over the exposed lines of your throat and collarbones with shockingly rapacious heat. Ranpo made no attempts to conceal the undisguised wanting that flooded his expression whenever you unconsciously wet your lips or arched your back in an absent stretch, emphasizing your feminine curves before his hooded, devouring stare.

"Got a clue yet as to what's been tormenting me?" Ranpo would murmur on such occasions, his voice rendered low and husky with banked intensity. You'd freeze in instinctive response, feel your pupils blowing wide as your senses became hyper aware of the whisper-light scratch of your shirt fabric over your nipples, now peaking betrayingly under his incendiary scrutiny.

All you could manage was a strangled hum of acknowledgment as he stalked closer, seemingly to emphasize the added inches of height he held over your suitably disheveled form. The mahogany-and-clove tang of his cologne was heady in the minuscule space separating you, searing the insides of your nostrils, the latent promise in the set of his broad shoulders and tautly corded forearms as they twitched infinitesimally with the obvious effort of restraint.

"Do be more specific, won't you?" He purred, smooth as velvet and just as rich in the underlying implication. "I require your observations in extraneously vivid detail, so I can fully immerse myself in the...depraved scenery unfolding through that peerless intuition of yours. Don't spare me any of those delicious, poetic descriptions."

And like an iridescent vision pulled directly from the lurid seance haunting Ranpo's unconscious, you began to glimpse the full breadth of longing and forbidden temptation tangling his preternatural deductive mind in frantic knots.

You saw him shuddering awake in the dead of night, sheets clinging damply to his sweat-slicked, naked torso as he desperately sought to cling to the receding remnants of dreams that stirred with your every moan and shudder undulating against him. Imagined the searing stroke of his fingertips roaming over the mental topography of your quivering, splayed form as he catalogued every slick, trembling inch.

Dexterous hands methodically divesting you of all adornments before his singleminded, deductive focus. Elegant, kissable lips tracing a scorching path over your most intimate secrets, no possible shroud or compunction left to conceal the scope of your body's rapture from his ruthless, unflinching regard.

You found yourself utterly undone by these incendiary visions bleeding over into your waking reality in shockingly lurid detail. Your breaths grew shallow and uneven, nipples straining against thin fabric as Ranpo continued his relentless study and your imagination showed no signs of yielding.

Finally, he leaned in so unbearably near that the brush of his lips against your heated cheek felt like a brand. "If you're going to provide me with a thoroughly immersive reconstruction," he rumbled with dark bedroom timbre, "Then I desperately require a first-hand account your rapturous undoing made as the full thrust of my interrogation bore down on you..."

A whimpery moan nearly broke free from the cage of your constricted throat at those words, your entire being flashing alight with the visceral understanding of what torrid fantasies held Ranpo so completely transfixed as of late. He craved the consummate panoramic of ecstacy warring over your naked expression as you surrendered every filthy, lewd revelation scrap by scrap in delirious fealty to the unflinching intensity of his carnal inquest.

And based on the fevered look scorching his features as he drank in your guileless realization, Ranpo meant to allow for absolutely no evasions or half-measures in the pursuit of such lurid deductions.

"Enough dancing around it," Ranpo growled, his eyes blazing with undisguised hunger. "I want you to know exactly what kind of filthy dreams you've been starring in night after night."

You felt a full-body flush at his blunt words, trembling slightly as he closed the distance between you with predatory intent. His hands settled dominantly on your hips, thumbs stroking possessive arcs over the jut of bone.

"I wake up absolutely soaked, aching and painfully hard," Ranpo rasped against the heated shell of your ear. "All from visions of stripping you bare and tasting every single inch of your pretty little body."

A shocked whimper escaped your lips at the unvarnished carnality of his confession. You could feel his erection pressing insistently against your abdomen as he rolled his hips with dark promise.

"That's right, baby..." he purred in a tone made husky and seductive with naked want. "I've spent night after night imagining burying my face between those soft thighs, lapping up your sweet cream until you're squirming and mewling on my tongue."

You were panting harshly now, your body utterly aflame at the vivid, filthy descriptions tumbling so casually from the normally unflappable detective's lips. Ranpo seized the back of your neck in a dominant grasp, forcing you to meet his darkly salacious stare.

"And that's just the start," he promised in a gravelly tone that made your core absolutely throb. "Once I've loosened you up nice and sloppy, I'm going to bury this thick cock so deep inside you won't remember your own name."

Your eyes fluttered shut in a dizzying wave of wanton arousal at the absolutely indecent images he was invoking in such frank, explicit detail. You could practically feel the delirious stretch and burn from his impressive girth claiming your body so dominantly, so unrelentingly.

"That's it, sweetheart..." Ranpo's voice dropped to a gruff timbre of pure sin as he guided your shaking hand down to palm the rigid, throbbing length straining against his trousers. "Get a good feel for how hard I've been for you, how badly I'm gonna rail that greedy little pussy and stuff you absolutely full of my cum."

You cried out shamelessly at the graphic promise, hips jerking in mindless need against his calloused fingers now rubbing searingly over the damp crotch of your underwear. This was far beyond any provocation or innuendo - Ranpo was utterly unfurling the darkest, most depraved and sordid temptations that had gripped his subconscious night after night.

"So tell me..." he rasped hoarsely against the sheen of perspiration beading over your collarbone. "Now that I've properly educated you in the true nature of my lascivious dreams...are you going to be a good girl and let me live them all out in vivid, unrepentant detail?"

You could only whine and nod frantically, utterly transfixed and inflamed with unrestrained yearning to make this profane reality. Ranpo answered with a feral growl of approval.

"That's what I like to hear..." He yanked you harshly into the scalding brand of his lean musculature, teeth scoring biting kisses up the fevered line of your throat. "Now be a good little pet and start undressing...because I'm not stopping until I've explored and defiled every single one of your most shameless erotic mysteries."

Ranpo's ravenous words and commanding touch left you utterly undone and compliant as warm putty in his capable hands. You found yourself frantically divesting of clothing at his guttural urging, fevered desperation thrumming through your veins at the promise of experiencing firsthand the lurid fantasies that had plagued the brilliant detective's unconscious.

Soon you stood flushed and quivering in just your underwear, breath catching at the sheer heat and intensity blazing through Ranpo's lidded gaze as he drank in the sight of you revealed. His tongue swept deliberately over his lower lip as his eyes roamed with undisguised possession and longing over every newly bared inch.

"Exquisite..." he husked in a voice rendered gravel-rough from the strain of his carefully leashed desire. "Though perhaps we ought to remove these last scraps as well before indulging in the real main event, hmm?"

You bit back a shuddering moan at the blatant implication, fingers already hooking into the flimsy lace to comply. But Ranpo's hands seized your wrists in a punishing grip, halting your movements as he stepped in to loom over your suddenly diminutive frame with dark promise.

"Allow me," he growled in a tone that brokered no argument as he brought your hands up to bracket his shoulders instead.

The first intimate brush of your heated skin against his clothed chest and arms left you dizzy with acute sensitivity and gnawing craving. You shivered and swayed instinctively nearer as Ranpo leisurely trailed his fingertips in a feather-light glide down over the swell of your breasts and along the feminine flare of your waist. His blazing regard remained riveted on the journey of his exploring hands, flagrantly studying your every reactive shudder and quickly becoming mottled flesh with raptor intensity.

"My my..." he tsked softly, voice gone dark velvet and rich with undisguised sin as he hooked into the flimsy elastic of your underwear. "How utterly responsive and primed you are already, my dear...and we've barely even made the barest start toward enacting the wet dreams I've been forced to endure night after endless night."

With one smooth, unhurried motion, Ranpo divested you fully of your last tatters of concealment. The humid caress of air over your newly bared skin made you suck in a sharp breath, hips jerking reactively in seeking of some relief for the steadily mounting ache between your slickened folds. Relief that Ranpo looked eminently prepared to provide as he took a measured step back, sweeping you from crown to soles with a look positively blazing with carnal appreciation.

"Just as spectacular to apprehend in the flesh as my unconscious recreations dared dream..." he rumbled in a tone of quiet rapture, flexing his hands at his sides as if warring against the urge to touch. "But perhaps we ought to take things a bit further before I utterly ravish you, hmm?"

You were trembling oxygenless pants by the time Ranpo made languid, methodical work of stripping away his own concealing layers, unveiling the taut, lean musculature of his naked form to your prey-whetting inspection. By the time he finally stood fully and gloriously undressed, his substantial arousal stood flushed and iron-proud from the nexus of his thighs, you were an utter shuddering wreck of anticipation and need.

With smoldering intent, Ranpo stalked forward until all you could see, hear, and taste was the banked promise of his raw masculinity consuming your senses entirely. His motions were those of a jungle cat unhurriedly cornering its hapless quarry - controlled and weighted with imminent danger.

"I want to hear you..." he commanded in a hoarse timbre of pure sin. One large palm flattened scorchingly over the frantic kick of your pulse while the other boldly cupped and kneaded the soft weight of your breast. "I want to hear you moaning and crying out like you do in my dirty dreams. Don't hold back any of those delicious little whimpers when I finally get my hands on this body that's been driving me crazy with need."

Then his mouth was on you, claiming your lips with an utterly shameless and unapologetically greedy kiss that sent you reeling. Your mind stuttered to a halt as his tongue swept over yours in a slick, velvety glide that had your knees buckling beneath you. Only the firm band of his arm across the small of your back kept you upright as his other hand continued its sinful exploration.

Ranpo's palm felt searing hot as it traveled over the smooth expanse of your belly and down to cup the curve of your ass. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed and groped shamelessly, fingers dipping in the crease and teasing just shy of your dripping entrance. He swallowed down your gasp with a rumbling purr, his mouth continuing to ravage and dominate yours until you were clinging weakly to his broad shoulders for support.

When he finally broke the kiss, you were left gasping and dizzy, utterly boneless in the wake of his masterful touch. Ranpo's lips skated a scalding path down the side of your neck, pausing to nip and suck at the hollow where your pulse thundered. He pressed open-mouthed, bruising kisses over the tops of your breasts, the edge of his teeth and tongue rasping against your nipples until they were tight, aching peaks.

Your body burned and yearned, reduced to a molten, incandescent puddle under his expert attentions. When Ranpo finally lifted his head to fix you with a dark, lust-blown stare, his breathing was harsh and unsteady, his skin flushed and shining with a fine sheen of sweat. You knew you must look an utterly debauched, wanton mess, and the knowledge had something primal and savage igniting in his eyes.

"Tell me, sweetheart..." he growled low and hungry, the pads of his thumbs grazing in maddening circles over the sensitive inner skin of your thighs. "Have you figured it out yet? The reason why I've been so damnably, insufferably restless and agitated as of late?"

You could only whimper, your mind utterly scrambled and addled from the onslaught of his touch. Ranpo chuckled darkly, his hands moving inexorably upward until they were ghosting feather-light over the feverish, slick heat of your pussy.

"The answer should be simple enough for even you to deduce, my dear..." he purred in a honeyed timbre that vibrated straight through to your core. "The fact is, you've been plaguing my waking thoughts and unconscious desires with an infuriatingly relentless persistence. So much so that I'm absolutely compelled to explore and satisfy each and every one of the torrid scenarios that have been playing out through my subconscious as of late."

Ranpo punctuated his claim with the slow, deliberate glide of two fingers along your slit, gathering the slickness pooling at your entrance. He swirled the tips in a lazy circle over your clit, making your hips jerk uncontrollably as your body sang in ecstacy.

"But more than that..." he continued in a voice rendered rough with naked, visceral wanting. "I'm utterly compelled to indulge in the filthy, depraved fantasy of you being spread out and helpless before me, allowing me to do whatever I want to this pretty little body of yours. Allowing me to completely defile and deflower you."

The words alone had your walls clenching, desperate for the thick, hard stretch of him spearing you open and filling you to the hilt. Ranpo rumbled a dark, approving noise deep in his chest, the sound resonating through you until your legs were practically shaking with the need to have him inside.

"You want it too, don't you, sweetheart?" he murmured with quiet conviction. "You want to feel the obscene, dirty, ungodly pleasure of me plowing this tight cunt with every inch of my thick cock."

Your answering moan was utterly broken, breathy and shameless. You were completely unraveled, ready to beg for anything and everything Ranpo could give. He rewarded you with another searing, open-mouthed kiss that left you seeing stars.

"So let's start making the illicit reality match the deliciously torrid fantasy," he whispered against your lips. "Every filthy fucking fantasy I’ve had about this tight, needy pussy has been a variation on the same theme. That you're going to spread these pretty thighs and let me fuck you absolutely senseless. And that starts with you bending over the desk, presenting this gorgeous little ass to me while I bury myself in this greedy, soaked little cunt."

The command brooked no argument, the unflinching dominance behind the words making your cunt positively throb. You were dimly aware of him steering you over to the nearby desk, maneuvering you into position with firm, unyielding hands.

Ranpo's fingers danced and teased, spreading the lips of your cunt and rubbing in gentle, teasing strokes against your entrance. He dipped in just enough to gather a few drops of slick, slathering them up and down the length of his thick cock. Then you felt the hot, blunt head press insistently against your folds.

"Remember what I said before, sweetheart..." Ranpo crooned dark and seductive, one hand splaying possessively over the small of your back as he lined himself up. "I'm not stopping until I've had you screaming and squirting all over this cock. Until you've given me the full, unfettered experience of your orgasm wracking this body, making you shake and shudder on my dick."

His free hand landed a stinging slap on the rounded curve of your ass, making you gasp and jolt. The slight shift of movement made the tip of his cock push past your entrance, stretching and burning as it slowly sank into the velvety clutch of your core.

You cried out at the delicious, agonizingly slow burn, feeling every inch of him impaling you as his hips rolled with measured control. He bottomed out with a low growl of satisfaction, his fingers digging into your hips as he began to slowly pump his length in and out.

"Oh yes..." Ranpo groaned, his eyes hooded and heavy with lust as he gazed down at where you were stretched and straining around his thick shaft. "Fuck, sweetheart, you feel even better than I dreamed."

You keened and writhed, struggling to take the immense, overwhelming pressure and stretch. Ranpo leaned down, pressing his chest against your back and molding your body to his. His hips never stilled their torturously unhurried pace, pumping in slow, deep strokes.

"You're being such a good little detective's pet for me," he purred against the shell of your ear, the praise making you whimper and clench involuntarily. Ranpo hummed his approval, his pace picking up incrementally as he drove you to the brink of madness.

"I'm going to make you come like this, sweetheart..." he murmured in a voice gone husky and low with carnal intent. "I'm going to fuck this sweet little cunt until you're screaming and gushing all over me. Then I'm going to bend you over and breed you so thoroughly, you'll feel the slick, wet mess leaking out of you for days."

You whimpered at the filthy promises, your cunt clenching greedily around him at the thought. Ranpo snarled and fucked harder, his cock driving deeper and harder with each snap of his hips. You could feel yourself hurtling toward the edge, your legs beginning to shake as the coil in your lower belly wound tighter and tighter.

"That's it, sweetheart..." Ranpo encouraged, his voice rough with the strain of holding back his own release. "Let go for me, let me feel that pussy squeezing around my cock. Show me how hard you can come on my dick."

You came with a wail, the coil snapping violently and sending you crashing over the edge. Ranpo fucked you through it, his thrusts losing rhythm as his control slipped.

"Oh, fuck..." he groaned, his grip tightening as his hips snapped forward, his cock twitching inside you. You could feel the warm, wet rush of his release flooding you, stuffing you full of his cum.

It was several long moments before you could catch your breath, both of you slumped over the desk, still joined together. You whimpered softly as Ranpo slowly pulled out, his hands immediately sliding over the round swell of your ass.

"Such a good pet," he murmured, his thumb dipping down to stroke your entrance. "So wet and messy for me. But I'm not done with you yet."

Ranpo straightened, tugging on your arm until you turned and faced him. "That was only the recreation of one dream. We still have many more to work through. On your knees."

[moneypowerglorymiddleofmiami]

heartthrob ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

note: the year is 2007, and as all romcoms do— none of this makes proper sense. (inspired greatly by notting hill, 1999)

summary: a coffee shop, the owner, hollywood's most famous actor, and a meet-cute

warnings: a cuss word here and there

genre: romcom

“Hello,” A baritone voice came after the telltale toll of the shop bell— baritone yet young, vaguely familiar but definitely not someone she knew well. “Are you open?”

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute!” She yelled back from the kitchen. She pursed her lips as she gave the cupboard a final thrust, the dodgy thing has always been a right pain in the arse.

“Hi, how can I help you, sir?” She asked cheerily as she emerged from the side door, the soles of her boots tapping loudly against the aged wooden floors.

She paused in her steps when she saw the sopping wet figure at the door, standing awkwardly and apprehensively at the threshold. Droplets of water trickled down from the sleeves of his coat down to the WELCOME rug placed conveniently at the entrance. “Oh, gods! Are you alright?”

“You don’t happen to have any tissues in here, do you?” He asked with a tight smile.

“Unfortunately, no. We’ve run out at the moment.” She scrambled to grab the nearest tea towel from the cabinet before rushing over to help him. “This’ll have to do.”

“Thank you.” Their fingers grazed as he took the fabric from her hold. “I’m sorry for making such a mess.”

“It’s fine! The floorboards needed a bit of a clean anyway.” She joked with a half-hearted grin in an attempt to ease the atmosphere. “I can have your jacket dried in the back if you want.”

“Oh, I can’t possibly intrude any further.” He waved his hand to veto her suggestion before tending to himself once more.

“You’re not from here, are you?” She asked with a sudden interest. With each minute he spent in her presence, she felt like she was closer and closer to figuring out exactly who this man was. She’d seen him enough times, surely. His name was at the tip of her tongue.

“The accent wasn’t a dead giveaway?” He grinned at her.

“Well, you get your occasional round of Americans here and there.” She shrugged her shoulders. “The sunnies were a bit on the nose though.”

He clicked his tongue, quickly pulling the pair down his face and placing it against the neckline of his shirt. “The weather report said it was going to be sunny.”

“Weather reports are dodgy.” She raised her eyebrow knowingly.

“I’m guessing it doesn't rain often where you’re from?”

“Twice every year,” He pursed his lips. “But I’m never around enough to know how true that actually is.”

“Sounds like you travel a lot.”

“A fair amount. My work keeps me away from home.”

“Ah,” She nodded her head. She must’ve seen him in a travel advert somewhere. “What do you do exactly?”

“Well, I’m an actor.”

She stopped to look at him more carefully, tilting her head sideways from one direction to the next to get a hint. She met his gaze momentarily, her eyes squinting as she wracked her brain for any clue of who he might be. He looked at her expectantly.

The dozens of movie posters she'd seen at the cinema came to her with a dazzling clarity. Ecstatic by her epiphany, she slammed her hand against the counter loudly— inducing a painful bang and an equally pain-stricken howl almost immediately.

“Are you OK?!” He asked with a panicked edge to his tone. He shoved the tea towel down his pocket carelessly as he ambled over to her. “I don’t know the emergency numbers here so I’m gonna have to either carry you or drag you— whichever comes first.”

She laughed loudly in amusement whilst nursing her hand, the pain slowly ebbing away as he continued to fuss over her. “I can’t believe it! Luke Castellan is in my depressing little shop!”

“Wait, fuck, are you sure you’re OK?” Luke mouth twitched, as if contemplating whether this was an appropriate time to laugh. He looked at her as if she’d gone insane. Maybe she did, maybe she actively was. This oddly seemed like the stuff of delusions.

“Yes, I’m fine!” She flipped her wrists as if to show him. “Healthy as a horse.”

He cracked a smile at her comment.

The bell let out a loud clang as a young man peeked his head into the shop, his umbrella left out in the street to protect him from the rain. “Luke! I’ve been trying to contact you for the last hour!”

“I suppose that’s your cue to leave then.” She smiled bashfully, the embarrassment catching up instantaneously. She was rubbish at this.

“I guess it is.” He hummed lowly with a grimace. He gave her a once over. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Luke, maybe hurry the fuck up?” The young man grumbled impatiently.

“Right,” She nibbled on her lower lip. “Thanks for coming around.”

“I’ll come back and actually buy something.” He said as he turned to leave.

“I’ll put you up to that.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

She was in the middle of a yawn when a loud voice called from across the street, a familiar tea towel gripped between ring-clad fingers and a head of black curls bobbing through the crowds.

It was still quite early in the morning, but Notting Hill was buzzing with life.

“Hey!” Luke yelled as he hurriedly walked towards her, expertly maneuvering himself between the masses of people and the stalls that lined the road. “I accidentally brought this with me. I had it cleaned and everything.”

“Thank you,” She said as she received it. The keys to the shop dangled between her fingers, waiting to be used. “You could have done away with the old thing.”

“It felt right to give it back.” He gave her a smile, more performative than yesterday— dazzling and charming, nothing less from an actor, of course. “It might have been sentimental, being in a display cabinet and all.”

“Well, it’s memorabilia from a royal wedding some decades ago.” She responded with a blush. “My mum likes to collect these things.”

“At least it’s got some national value to it.” He raised his eyebrows.

“There’s that, yeah.” She chuckled. “My mum’s gonna be relieved, I’m sure. Thank you, Luke— may I call you Luke?”

He stared at her for a moment; what for? She wasn’t exactly sure, but it was certainly magnetic. She couldn’t move away and it felt like everything else aside from the man in front of her was a blindspot. Her eyes met his, and Luke’s grin grew imperceptibly wider and her heart thumped indescribably faster.

“Sure, yes, definitely.” Catching himself, he stood straighter. His face looked ruddy, either owed mostly to the sunbeams warming his skin or the excitement thrumming underneath his flesh. “I’d like that.”

He stuffed his hand into his pocket, just in time to tend to his phone’s shrill ringtone and its incessant vibrations. Luke groaned as he pulled it out. “It’s probably my manager. I have to go, unfortunately.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear, equally as red as his cheeks despite the lack of direct sunlight against her skin. “Sorry to hear that. Have fun spending the afternoon slaying monsters.”

“The movie's about a bunch of kids on a cruise ship actually,” He laughed as he began to walk away backwards, his eyes completely fixated on her.

“Well, have fun doing that then.” She waved him off with an amused smile.

“I doubt it.” He winked at her before turning around at the curb then jogging down to god knows where.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“Hey, mum.” She greeted when she walked into their shared flat, the whistle of the kettle loudly whooshing from the kitchen. “Did someone ring the shop while I was gone?”

It took her mother a minute to respond, too enraptured by David Beckham’s impeccable left-leg hurl into the opposing team’s goal. She listened attentively to the live play-by-play narration as she made herself a cup of tea, the announcer was basically gripping his seat with anticipation. Telltale cheers of a victory echoed through the walls.

“Mum?” She called again.

“Oh, yes, sorry, dear!” Her mother replied distractedly. “There was a young bloke that called… think he mentioned his name was Luke.”

Thank the gods she was alone in the kitchen because the silent giddy squeals and foot stomps were definitely concerning. Christ, was this real life?

She cleared her throat and feigned nonchalance. She drummed her fingers against the marble surface of the counter, her nails absently digging against old remnants of a sticker. “And what did he say?”

“He said he’s staying at the Ritz under Hermes, so give that name to the concierge if you wanna call.” A beat. “Have you gotten yourself a boyfriend?"

“He’s not.”

“Be more definitive,” Her mother snapped. Teasingly, she added: “Not ever or not yet?”

“I’m not so sure, actually.” She clicked her tongue, wracked by pensive thoughts of juvenile daydreaming. She was getting ahead of herself, surely. She needed to approach this from a rational perspective: Luke Castellan had a whole life in Hollywood, decidedly not London. He had a bombshell girlfriend back at home with a career just as luxurious as his. He was a star burning brightly and she could barely get herself to flicker.

“Doesn’t sound like a ‘not ever’ to me.” Her mother responded with a lilt to her voice.

She swallowed thickly at how foreboding it sounded.

[cevansbrat0007]

I’ve been wondering this for awhile but I wasn’t sure how to sensitively ask: how did baby girl and Andy discuss disciplining their kids? Obviously they love spanking as an adult, consensual activity and part of their dynamic, but there’s so many different opinions now on whether spanking children is appropriate. How did they end up approaching it?

Spanking & Discipline in the Barber Household

Oddly enough, they hadn't really talked much about it until they witnessed a parent reach the end of their rope during a trip to a local park. Baby Girl was right around seven months pregnant with BiBi at the time.

She had insisted on getting out for some fresh air that day, claiming that she wanted to take advantage of the lovely spring weather they'd been having lately. And Andy, ever the doting husband, insisted on tagging along - as if she could ever leave that man behind.

So off they went. They walked the trails, took in the blooming flowers, and eventually, the conversation shifted to their hopes and dreams for the future. Not for themselves, but for their daughter.

They purchased a couple of hot chocolates and took a seat on a nearby park bench as they talked. That's when they noticed what they could only assume to be an overtired, overworked parent who was clearly out of patience with their children. But there happened to be one kid in particular who had earned their wrath.

And that little boy earned himself what seemed like a swift and powerful litany of swats for as long as it took that little family to make their way out of the park. It was loud. It was jarring. And it appeared to be an uncomfortable experience for nearly bystander who witnessed it.

For a moment, Andy and Baby Girl sat there in silence quietly sipping their cocoa. And then she leaned her head on his shoulder and softly whispered "I don't want to be that kind of Mom. I don't want either of us to be like that.". To be truthful, she wasn't so much judging as she was reflecting.

She knew that there would inevitably come a time where she might find herself at her wit's end with her own child. But she also felt that there were many other, better ways to enforce discipline without resorting to corporal punishment.

Because while a warning swat to the butt was one thing, actively and repeatedly spanking your child until they cried out in pain was something completely different. Especially when done in the heat of anger.

Andy felt inclined to agree. And so from that point on, they came to an understanding that the only spankings that would take place in the Barber household would be those dispensed as part of the special D/s dynamic found between a loving ogre and his brat!wife.

Hope that answers your question. And for the record, you asked it beautifully. Thanks!

[winn-schott-throughtheheart]

Since you mentioned her in the last post, what are your feelings/headcanons on the whole Winn/Lyra situation? I’ve always wished people talked about it more, I hated them together but I was also hopeful that it would turn into a really insightful plotline that would bring in some of his past trauma and give him a little more to do than comic relief, but, well, we know how well the show did with literally anything about his character depth 🫠 I have some fics I wrote about it but it always felt like too oddly specific a subject to publish since she was such a minor character, so now that I’ve found someone who likes Winn as much as I do I figured asking for your thoughts would be the next best thing!

oh my goddd don't even I hate her so much.

she had NO problems hurting winn at all, but the moment she gets captured she's suddenly all "I never wanted to hurt you, you made me do this." SHE FRAMED HIM FOR GRAND LARCENY!! and I highly doubt winn had divulged his past experiences with law enforcement and criminal activity to her, but honestly that might make it worse?? he cannot catch a break or a decent partner omg

when winn and james go to find her at the trailer park, she LITERALLY SAYS SHES PREPARED TO KILL HIM!! SHE THREATENS TO KILL HIM! she's sexually domineering and physically violent, which is shown more than once. she completely disregards all the effort winn goes to to make last minute plans for valentines day and, when he expresses he prefers to get to know someone first, forces herself upon him anyways. he mentions her leaving bruises on him, which I admit could have been consensual, but based on literally everything else, i wouldn't get my hopes up, especially considering just how quick she is to anger. if the roles were reversed, and a woman went to the effort of getting her boyfriend's favourite dessert so she could let him down as gently as she could, only to have him fly off the wall, smash a bottle in her face and threaten her with physical violence in a public setting, he'd be the most hated character in the show! but because he's a guy, it's fine, right?? it's funny?? AND JAMES IS AT FAULT HERE TOO BECAUSE HE WITNESSES THIS, AND STILL THINKS ITS APPROPRIATE TO GET THEM BACK TOGETHER!!!! and the fact that winn goes right back to her after is actually so upsetting, i would hedge the bet that he's never had a good relationship in his entire damn life.

and I don't know if you've heard of the analogy with cats, wherein if someone expresses hatred or disdain for cats (usually on the basis that they're "unpredictable" or "can't love you back" or "difficult") then it's actually just an issue of them not respecting the cats boundaries and consent. lyra. eats. cats. or at least she thinks it's funny to joke about. im so fucking glad she wasn't a recurring character, 5 episodes or however many she gets is already too many. anyway tldr I fucking hate lyra <3

also pleaseeee please send me any fics you have if you're comfortable!!! I'd loveee to read them!!! obviously as long as it's not painting lyra in a good light lmfaooo

[imagitory]

Review: Inside Out 2 (SPOILERS)

Hey all! So earlier today my mum and I went to go see the sequel to one of my absolute favorite Pixar films, Inside Out! For a spoiler-free opinion, I'll just say that we both enjoyed it -- my mum enjoyed it more than I did, perhaps partially because she didn't remember the original as well as I did going in, but even if I didn't personally like this sequel as much as the first one, it's still a worthy continuation with very good humor and some great heart.

That being said, I think it's high time for some more spoilerific analysis. So if you're as anxious to get started as I am, read on!

The Good!

+Honestly, this film went to places that an Inside Out sequel was almost meant to go, just based on the ending of the last film. That puberty joke coming back and messing things up for Riley? Yeah, that checks out. Riley struggling with her emotions through her teen years? Sure! Makes for great drama! The emotions have to come to grips with the fact that change is inevitable? A worthwhile and appropriate lesson. This film's trajectory was a good pay-off for the set-up from the last film, so it never felt like this film's story was jarring or came out of left-field. It even makes sense for Riley to be so afraid of not having any friends and being alone in high school, considering that just two years prior (as seen in the first movie), she had to deal with such a traumatic move that resulted in her entire life in Minnesota being uprooted.

+The conflict between Riley's old and new emotions really does embody a lot of insecurities that teenagers go through! The thought of discarding our more immature, childish selves in favor of looking and acting more "adult" -- the disillusionment and diminishing of self-esteem -- the embarrassment, guilt and shame attached to your mistakes -- the intense desire to be accepted and praised -- the envy and longing to be more like "cool" older students -- the crippling self-doubt and anxiety -- the distant, sarcastic, sometimes even rude or angry shell you might form around yourself to try to hide your insecurities...I truly do think a lot of people will identify with Riley's struggles. My mum actually identified with Riley more than I did in this film, and this is when the first Inside Out became one of my top favorites in large part because how much I'd identified with Riley's struggle with depression! (I think this might be because my mum was both very sporty and a huge people-pleaser while growing up, while I -- oddly enough -- was kind of immune to peer pressure and was much more interested in being accepted for who I was, rather than in actively changing myself to try to "earn" acceptance from others.) I did, however, really feel Riley's perfectionistic tendencies, as well as her anxiety. Which leads us nicely into...

+The anxiety attack sequence. That scene, quite honestly, was a highlight of the entire film. It was a perfect concept that was both written and animated so evocatively, and Joy managing to break through enough to Anxiety to slow the panicked internal frenzy that made it so that Riley's emotions (and therefore Riley herself) couldn't see a thing was so well done.

+On that note, the concept of the threads of Riley's beliefs was great from beginning to end. I love that at the start of the film, Riley has a great sense of self-worth and a strong faith in the thought that she's a good person: something that, quite honestly, we all think until we're ideally forced to confront a more nuanced view of ourselves and the world around us. I like that when Anxiety started taking over (and planted only her memories in that underwater garden space), there's a shift in Riley that makes it so that she can only be happy if A, B, and C -- this idea that happiness is somehow both transactional and something one can only find in the outside world. It feels true to the emotion of Anxiety, and -- honestly -- to many real-life people. Self-love is hard to cultivate when one sees their flaws and shortcomings clearly, and finding happiness in one's own company as oneself can be even harder. The threads were well set-up by us seeing Joy and Sadness reaffirming their friendship from the last film by bringing their joint memory down to the garden, and the evolution of the garden and in Riley coming to grips with both the good and bad aspects of herself was fantastic. The part where all of the emotions embrace Riley's new sense of self, regardless of her flaws and shortcomings, was actually the most resonant moment of the film for me personally. I didn't cry, but it did make my own Joy and Sadness metaphorically hug each other.

+I'm really glad that Anger, Disgust, and Fear got to go on the psychological journey with Joy this time. I have some critiques on how it was done, and we'll get to that, but I am still glad that they got some more focus and time to shine, after Joy and Sadness got so much time to bond in the last movie. Fear pulling out that parachute was both funny and completely in-character, and I liked Anger "sticking it to the man" by swiping that pipe to shoot himself and the others up into the air and onto the top of the walls. It also was so very, very fitting for Joy and the others to trust Sadness to go back to Headquarters -- she would be the best equipped to help since she knows the manuals best, and she's also the emotion who'd be best able to get Riley help from outside should she need it, as proved from the last film. It really showcases how much stronger the core emotions' bond has become in the almost two years since the events from the first movie, especially the one between Joy and Sadness.

+There was some really, really good humor in this movie. The highlights for me were largely in the Deep Dark Secrets Vault -- I died laughing at Lance Slashblade multiple times. (Am I the only one who thought that that hooded Secret was totes Riley's gender identity? Because I'm sorry, I still love the headcanon that Riley is non-binary. For the record, yes, after further research into a post-credits scene I didn't stick around for, I found out I was wrong, but SHHH, I'm ignoring it because it's stupid.) The scene where Joy blew up at Anger, Fear, and Disgust was also both really funny and relatable for me -- I've been in that exact position before, and you're right, Joy: it is exhausting!!

The Ehhh...

+I know I'll probably be in the minority on this, but none of the new emotions grabbed me the way the originals did. They all had funny moments, sure, but Anxiety pissed me off way more than earned sympathy from me, at least until the end. I think it was the whole "we love Riley, really! All we want to do is change her into a completely different person" thing. It's really not that I think the new emotions don't care about Riley -- it's clear they do, and obviously they all learned their lesson -- but I guess I personally just don't ascribe to the idea that love is somehow conditional. If you love someone, you should love them as they are: there shouldn't be this expectation that the person you love (even platonically, as in this case) should change themselves for your sake. I know Anxiety in some ways could parallel Joy in the first movie, but in the first film, Joy sees the depth of her mistake through her adventures with Sadness and the growth she undergoes through it. She then more than proves how much she's willing to make things right in how hard she fights to get Sadness back to Riley's Headquarters. Anxiety -- just due to the characterization established for her -- doesn't really get the chance to redeem herself through passionate, proactive action in that same way. Instead she falls apart, Joy has to come to her rescue, and then all of the emotions come together to symbolically embrace Riley and calm her down. As for the others, as I said, they all had funny moments, but I didn't really latch onto any of them the way I did for Joy, Sadness, and Disgust in the first movie. Again, I want to emphasize that I don't think any of these new emotions are bad, by a long shot -- I just personally didn't like or resonate with them as much as the original five.

+The pacing in this film wasn't always that great. The journey Joy took with Fear, Disgust, and Anger seemed a lot less focused than Joy's with Sadness, largely because Joy didn't really get as much chance to bond with all three of the others the way she did with Sadness. In the original film, all of the obstacles and side adventures Sadness, Joy, and Bing Bong had to undergo on their way back to Headquarters had emotional relevance. They weren't just there for the sake of jokes: they also strengthened the bond between the characters and laid the groundwork for plot points later. Take the trip through Imagination Land in the first film, for example -- sure, the Riley's Imaginary Boyfriend machine was funny, but it was also reused later where Joy made a whole bunch of copies and then used them to both reach Sadness and launch herself and Sadness at Headquarters. But the trip to Imagination Land here was really more a tangent accenting Anxiety's unraveling and a meta reference to the state of modern animation studios, rather than something that lay the groundwork for a more emotional, clever payoff later-on. (It also seemed like it wasted time Joy and the others really needed to get back to Headquarters, as well as revealed to Anxiety that they'd escaped when it would've been more prudent for them to keep their heads down.) The "Sarchasm" was absolutely hilarious as a concept -- I laughed so bloody hard when it cropped up...but imagine how much better it would've been if Disgust had gotten the chance to show how to defeat it by simply not responding verbally to it? Perhaps Disgust's interest in make-up could've given her the ability to show off the power of a silent, condescending "Eyebrow Arch" in defanging sarcasm, which could've materialized as a bridge over the chasm or something. That could've put more ammunition behind the idea that Anxiety is wrong that Riley's old emotions are no longer necessary, rather than just an obstacle being thrown into the characters' way on a whim of the filmmakers to pad the run-time.

+This does actually lead to that one big critique I have about the focus on Anger, Fear, and Disgust -- where was my favorite green girl's chance to shine during this journey through the mind, huh?! Anger figuratively went "f*** it" and got the group up to the top of the wall. Fear saved himself and the others from the fall with his parachute. Joy's relentless optimism carried them all down their path. Where was Disgust using her individuality and named trait to help Riley? Disgust in particular is supposed to be there to "keep Riley from getting poisoned physically or socially" -- she has all the motive in the WORLD to be irritated at Anxiety and the other new emotions, considering she's responsible for Riley ditching her two best friends and poisoning her entire moral character. I do really wish Anger had been more righteously angry about this too, but at least he got some chance to take charge and get the spotlight by himself -- Disgust, in comparison to the other two emotions accompanying Joy, just got less focus.

+I guess this leads into really my only true hang-up with the film -- not that it was bad, but just that it didn't surprise me that much. Just like in the last film, Joy is trying to push away those things that aren't so pleasant supposedly for Riley's benefit. Just like in the last film, Joy has to come to grips with an emotion changing Riley in a way she doesn't like. Just like in the last one, Joy breaks down and exposes the vulnerable emotions she's been trying to hide -- in fact, this time, she does it twice, considering she loses it with Anger, Fear, and Disgust (in a very funny scene, but still) mid-way through and then has that more hopeless bit in the third act. Imagine how much stronger this film could've been if after Joy's first breakdown, she really does give up, or even if it had played into that terrible idea Joy has that "when you grow up, you feel less joy" and that (as a result) Joy is getting weaker or even is starting to disappear...and so, in response, Anger has to take charge of the mission, because he -- as the emotion who cares deeply about "what's fair" -- is furious about how Anxiety treated them and is trying to change Riley. Then we follow Anger as the emotion with a character arc. He's got that fire needed to defend who Riley is and prove that she is that good person she believed she was, but because he's Anger, he has difficulty moderating himself or staying focused. It's Disgust that has to help rein him in and show the power of silence in defeating the Sarchasm. It's Fear who has to save them from the Brainstorm. In this scenario, it'd be Anger rashly confronting Anxiety in that pillow fort in Imagination Land...and it would've been Anger who would've suffered burn-out, after all of his determined rage seemingly leads them out into the middle of nowhere with no way back to Headquarters. He would've cried tears of frustration and despair, feeling like a failure just as Riley did at the beginning of the film, and this would've been where Joy came to the realization that shoving down those negative memories doesn't diminish their impact. Then they would've ridden that avalanche back, and Anger -- seeing the state Anxiety was in -- would've realized that rage was not the way to help and insisted Joy help her, while he and the others try to fix Riley's Sense of Self. Helping Anxiety would've then also helped Joy too, and she would've rematerialized in full, just as bright as before: because Joy doesn't have to just be emblematic of childhood, but also in seeing the light after losing one's way. Sure, this trajectory would've in its own way mirrored aspects from the first film -- but at least we wouldn't have had Joy having to break down three times in two movies, and perhaps we could've given Joy and Anger's friendship the chance to shine the way Joy and Sadness's has.

+As the tiniest of nitpicks as well, I didn't think the score was that memorable, aside from the reuse of the original Bundle of Joy theme written for the first film.

I know my second more negative section has a lot of stuff written in it, but please, don't take this to mean I disliked the film! Truly, overall, I think it's quite good. I just didn't identify with Riley's struggles as much in this film as its predecessor, and I didn't think the script was quite as tightly written with set-ups and pay-offs either. Inside Out 2 is still a very enjoyable film, and I think just about any fan of Inside Out will have a fun time like my mum and I did! Even despite my minor critiques, my memory of this film is largely yellow.

Overall Grade: B+

[moa-broke-me]

Hey so... Literal YEARS after leaving the mlp fandom, as in, long before I even had tumblr, I've recently uh... Gotten back in, a little bit?

It's all @meepmoopmaap's fault, he made a FANTASTIC infection AU, it's on AO3. Actually no, it's also my alter's fault (don't @ me ok I get that most ppl use headmate but alter is just more natural for me) since he's a fictive from the show and has been VERY active recently, but I digress. Point is, I kind of wanted to... How do I say this?

I wanted to make them centaurs, thought it could be cool to add a human skin tone for the top half and then their old ones, also add some necessity for clothes.

I also just wanted to redesign them overall.

So, obviously, we HAD to do Flutters first, and I thought this was gonna suck but it didn't and I'm actually kind of proud of it?

This is just the head and hair, and a pretty rough draft too, but here.

So, I wanted to give her a big nose, because big noses are cute, so I did. The strands in her face are since she's, y'know. Shy. I worked VERY hard to ensure there were as few straight lines or sharp corners in the design as possible, because I wanted it to be gentle and soft-looking. I even gave her beaded lashes to help with this, and they kind of look like teardrops which is oddly appropriate?

About the eye color, I... I completely ditched the teal eyes in her original design, in favor of olive green ones. I was planning on giving her more pops of olive green, but since this was just a profile head shot, I couldn't do much.

The teal eyes always bothered me, even when I was a kid, since I felt that it shifted her color scheme too much in the 'pastel primaries' direction occupied by Pinkie Pie which, if y'all like, we can do next. Also just the fact that half the cast had blue eyes really bothered me for some reason?

anyway. The olive green seems to suit her more anyway, and I've shifted the hair more to purple... Which may have been a mistake?

Anyway. Suggestions welcome, just keep it friendly. I have a block button and I'm not afraid to use it!

[oh-hell-help-me]

July 9: National Sugar Cookie Day

Luigi would say that he is competent in baking.

Of all of his skills, he’d even say it was his second best- right under cooking.

So, in the midst of the Koopa Kingdom’s now familiar heatwaves, he felt it fitting to bake sugar cookies.

And cookies it would be, as he knew they were oddly more popular than cakes for the Koopalings.

It was only a matter of time before his family catches wind of his activities, but even he needed to linger in the pantry doorway- the sheer variety of ingredients always floored him to see.

Flour, sugar, baking powder, salt…

One by one, he settles out measurements into the countertop.

(One by one, small pairs of eyes peer into the suddenly occupied kitchen.)

He grabs a stand mixer and its attachments, setting it aside as he grabs a sifter for most of the dry ingredients.

(Little hands grab each other in excitement, nearly breaking into chatter as Luigi pulls out Wintertime cookie cutters.)

As two ovens are set into a preheat, he adds the ingredients together- making sure to scrape the bottom of the mixer’s bowl.

(A faint scrape of claws on stone signaled the arrival of Junior, but the others were quick to hush him- after all, their mama worked best without interruption.)

The dough is done, and Luigi wastes little time in rolling it out on the counter into an appropriate thickness.

(If he wasn’t too absorbed into his task, he would have noticed the shaking cookie cutters and been able to deduce his husbands arrival.)

He ends up with eight dozen cookies to bake, and does his best to fit them all on the pans the kitchen has.

(The kitchen door opens a little more- enough for a giant snout and its attached eyes to peer into the kitchen as well.)

It’s fortunate that Luigi considered the size of the batch, as the second oven provided enough space for the rest of the cutouts.

(The door opened wider.)

He sets the timer, turns to put away the equipment-

And startled into a yelp as he is met with nine expectant faces.

“DIOS MIO! W-when did you get here?”

“Ten minutes ago.”

“You’re making cookies?”

“Can we have some?”

“Can we decorate them?”

“I want mine to have stars!”

“Do we even have icing?”

“Figli! You can calm down- and yes, to all of it!”

A deep chuckle has him whirl around and meet Bowser’s eyes. Even though they are incredibly pretty to Luigi, with amusement making them sparkle and glint, he lets himself pout at them.

“You’re not helping.”

“Wha-“ Bowser sputtered, and Luigi realizes that he took it as not helping to decorate.

It’s not what he meant, but he could work with it. “Oh no. Whatever shall you do.”

The sputters continue as Luigi sashays to the bowl of icing he prepared and pours it into smaller bowls to dye.

“Luigi- love, please-“ And anyone could see the human’s mirth as a muzzle tapped into the back of his neck. Whether it’s because he’s ticklish, or that the display itself is funny to witness, no one knows.

“Will you help me keep our bambinis in line?”

“Of course!”

“And will you not sneak any cookies when I’m not looking?”

“….Okay.”

“Hmm. Junior?”

“Yes, mama?”

“Will you keep an eye on your father?”

The offended sputters of the Koopa King could barely be heard over Junior’s loud “YES MAMA!”

And just like that, as an agent of chaos, the timer rang.

And the rest of the kitchens occupants went to a frenzy.

…

It was a developed skill to set a plate aside for Kamek, and a matter of practice to not react to the stink eye that comes from someone ‘barging in’ his office.

“Saved some for you.” And sets the tray on a clear spot, away from the paperwork that is stacked in front of the Magikoopa.

“Why are some of them trees?”

“It’s wintertime.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Are you sure?”

Luigi pretend to not notice how he sneaks a peak at his desktop calendar. “Yes.”

“If you’re sure.”

And he leaves, satisfied that he completed another holiday ritual.

[skywrotecreations]

Dissonant Constellations Chapter 9

Date: July 13, 2116 Time: 12:18 a.m. Location: The Coeus

She understood the instinct. Truly. 

But it would only delay the inevitable.

Far down the corridor, Vond stumbled around a corner. She could have put at least six bullets in his back before he reached it, but then she would need to locate another appropriate doctor, and repeat her extraction efforts. A waste of time.

And impractically dangerous. Her enemies would undoubtedly be on high alert after the capture of one of their own. Best to keep the one she already had alive and useful, if she could.

Besides, it wasn’t like he had anywhere to go.

Kel counted to thirty––just to humor him––then began her pursuit.

Vond was fast, for a normal Human. But not nearly fast enough. And the furthest thing from stealthy a person could be. Kel could have tracked his thundering footfalls from a mile away.

He did have a decent memory though. 

She spotted him five turns back along the path to the docking bay, moving at a pace which he likely considered a sprint. He looked back over his shoulder, wide eyes growing ever wider, then turned forward again and picked up a miniscule amount of speed.

Kel smirked, and paced herself to avoid overtaking him. There was something oddly thrilling about the pursuit. Something primal. Indulgent as it was, she found she was not quite ready to stop.

Unfortunately, Vond quickly made that decision for her. 

One wrong turn led the doctor to a hallway ending in a closed door. Vond ran straight at it, clearly believing it was motion-activated.

It was not.

At least the man had had the forethought to put his hands out in front of him. That likely saved him a few bruises. For the moment.

With her captive cornered, Kel slowed to a halt a few meters away; watched as her enemy shifted his attention to the small control panel beside the door, and repeatedly and futilely pressed the “open” button.

The soldier rolled her eyes. “It’s sealed, you imbecile.”

And for good reason. That part of the ship did not yet have life support.

Vond spun to face her, chest heaving from the exertion of their chase. 

She could smell the desperate sweat coming off him. Understandable, if pitiful. But eventually, she would need him to calm down, and cooperate. There was work to be done.

“Do not make this worse, doctor,” Kel decided to try kindness. “Come back to the infirmary quietly, and we can forget this hap...”

The man put up his fists in a comically bad imitation of a fighting stance.

Did they not require combat training in the First Responders’ Corps? Was the man truly this ill prepared to defend himself?

Although, even if he had been trained, there was no chance Vond actually believed he could win. He knew far too much about her abilities for that. Once again, this was just bravado.

Which, in this case, was an ailment with a simple cure.

Kel shrugged.

Kindness was a weakness, anyway.

The soldier closed the distance between them.

Vond’s right fist flew towards her head.

She blocked it with ease, and threw a punch of her own.

A light one.

At least, she didn’t feel anything crunch when her fist connected with the left side of his face, so it probably wasn’t fatal.

Regardless, the man crumpled.

In seconds, Kel forced the dazed doctor onto his back, swung a leg over his chest in order to prevent him from rising, wrapped a hand around his throat, and squeezed.

Once again, with restraint: his carotid arteries were completely unblocked, and she was careful to avoid actually crushing his windpipe.

But not enough to prevent him from believing that was her goal.

And if his reaction was anything to go by, believe he did.

Vond’s hands scrambled to his throat; he used what was pathetically likely all of his strength in an attempt to pry her fingers away. 

When that failed, which of course it did, the man finally threw a punch that landed. 

Kel hadn’t felt a blow that feeble since she was ten.

Yet given the contortion of Vond’s face, he had likely fractured at least one knuckle in the attempt. The hand dropped to the floor, twitching.

Too stubborn for his own good, Vond pushed weakly at her shoulder with his left hand; then the fool finally remembered the gun on her hip. 

She caught his wrist as he reached for the holster, but resisted the urge to crush bone. 

Best to keep one hand in good working order. He’d need it to fix the other.

She pinned the appendage to Vond’s chest instead. Quickly running out of options, the doctor’s legs flailed behind her, but Vond clearly did not have the flexibility necessary to make contact. At this point, he likely knew that it wouldn’t matter anyway.

Terror filled the man’s brown eyes. The terror of a mouse who suddenly found itself as the next meal for a boa constrictor. 

No way out. No way to fight. Nothing but a slow, steady squeeze.

He mouthed the word “please” many times. 

She did not relent.

She refused.

In this moment, let him marinate in helplessness.

Let his arrogance dissolve with every desperate breath.

Let him learn to truly fear her. 

It would save them both time.

Tears trickled down the sides of Vond’s face; a few moments more, and his struggles grew even weaker. 

When his eyes began to flutter, Kel eased her grip. 

Just enough to let him gasp for air. 

Not enough to do it comfortably.

Kel wasn’t certain how long she held him there, but when at last she deemed her point made, Vond’s entire body trembled beneath her.

Finally, she slipped her hand from his throat; up to his cheek. He winced as her fingers pressed the swelling bruise from her first blow, but the man was smart enough to suppress any more foolish reactions.

“You will not try that again.” A fact, not a question.

Vond shook his head in confirmation.

Kel smirked. “A quick learner. Good.”

She tousled his hair, then hooked a hand under his left armpit, and dragged him to his feet.

The man staggered, but didn’t fight her. For all that mattered.

Shortly, they arrived back at the infirmary. This time, she did not release his arm at the door, but instead led him directly to the center bed, and forced him to sit. 

Vond cradled his injured right hand in his left, and kept his head bowed.

Deciding her captive did not appear ready to bolt again, Kel released him; took a step back. “Feet up on the bed. Take off your shoes.”

Vond complied. It was clearly a struggle to adjust his position and undo the laces with one unbroken hand, but his shoes thudded to the floor quickly enough to make a rebuke unnecessary. 

His socks bore a pattern of strange blue creatures Kel had never seen before.

It would have been endearing, on anyone other than him.

Satisfied, Kel collected the open shackle from the floor. Technically, it was a redundant safety restraint, meant to wrap around vessels like her skipper to prevent them from sliding across the docking bay in the event that a docking field failed during turbulence. However, its size and shape were perfect for this task, and as the Coeus could not yet fly, this seemed like a far better use of the equipment.

Necessity bred innovation. 

An old story.

“Pick an ankle,” Kel ordered.

Vond didn’t comply; his scared eyes flicked back towards the exit.

She glared. 

“Be smart, doctor.”

The man gulped; winced. “You don’t have to use that. Please, just lock me in.”

“So you can stand by the door and attempt to knock me out with an infuser pen the next time I come here?”

“No,” Vond said a little too quickly for Kel’s liking. “I just––”

“I know exactly what’s going through your mind.” And she was not stupid enough to fall victim to pity. “So let me be clear: force my hand again, and next time I won’t pull the punch.”

Vond’s good eye went wide at the implication. 

He took a deep breath, and inched his left ankle forward.

Kel smirked.

He truly did learn quickly.

And had at least some sense of self-preservation.

Useful traits, for someone in his position.

Vond did nothing to fight her as she clamped the shackle into place. She retrieved a small tablet from her pocket, and typed in a code. The seams of the restraint melded into a smooth ring of metal.

Attached to the pedestal base of the center operating table, the chain was long enough to allow her captive to reach any point in the infirmary, as well as about twenty feet into the hallway, and the entirety of the room embedded in the rear wall. This dealt with some practical concerns which Kel found distasteful, yet necessary to address.

“The bathroom is fully operational,” she tilted her head towards the rear door. “And the water is pure. There are two clean cups, and basic toiletries, in the box next to the sink. Do not neglect your hygiene. You won’t like my reaction.”

Vond stiffly nodded. His eyes roamed from the chain around his ankle to the swelling hand cradled against his chest; to the shelves of equipment enveloped in protective mesh.

Kel understood the question he was clearly afraid to ask. “Yes, you may use whatever supplies you need. I want that hand operational as soon as possible.”

A flicker of relief; another nod.

Kel frowned. “You might want to show some gratitude. I could change my mind.”

A clenched jaw; a long sigh. 

“Thank you.”

...Better.

She rested a hand on his shoulder, and felt a small flare of satisfaction as he flinched.

“Settle in, doctor. We have much to do.”

Cover | Synopsis | Chapter 1 | Chapter 8

[84reedsy]

The Mentorship, Part 2

The Mentorship

Characters: Curt Hennig/FemOC , eventual Scott Hall/FemOC

Part 2 of ? (Parts not chapters, parts length varies)

Word Count: 2731

Warnings/Considerations: Smut, Age Gap, Power Dynamics, Dirty Talk, swearing

------- Part 1 -------

Tags: (If you're interested in being tagged, let me know!)

Curt was surprised how well he slept that night. And the next, and the next. The only difference he’d noticed of Brinkley toward him was in general she was more confident. There was a different element to her maturity. She didn’t act childish beforehand, but she definitely had a maturation of some kind. Curt knew he was directly responsible for it, but found himself oddly proud at how well she maintained their mentor/mentee relationship in the wake of their encounter. 

She either took his words as empty talk in the heat of passion or was waiting for his direction. Either potential relieved him; he didn’t feel like he’d have to worry about her choosing an inopportune time to seduce him. Even though he was proud, he couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. With his family home, it was for the best. She was preoccupied in their downtime with his children, playing games or keeping them entertained. 

Working out in the gym was probably the only time that things teetered on a razor thin edge. She wore the same, gym appropriate clothes she always did, but the close proximity of their sweaty breathless bodies were hallmarks of their recent activity. But each day between them and that night seemed to ease any tension little by little.

The odd thing was that the tension wasn't uncomfortable, it was almost energizing. Curt began to relax, letting his guard down.  He shrugged off feeling awkward about being physically close,  about any glancing contact. 

Brinkley felt surprisingly at ease.  He hadn't treated her any differently and he knew more of her than anyone.  She had found it nearly impossible each night to not pleasure herself to the memory of being fucked in his movie room. Once she came though, the impulses settled and she was able to sleep peacefully.

The one thing that did tug at her was whether or not Curt was going to fulfill his suggestion of teaching her the oral side of things.  Over the last couple of weeks, he'd made no mention of it, nor had he seemed to approach her in any way out of the ordinary. 

Brinkley often saw the kids off to school, they usually woke her so they could see her before they left.  She didn't mind since she needed to be used to rising early and it seemed to mean a lot to them. 

“Training in the ring today, huh?” Lennie asked as she readied her travel mug of coffee, she had parent classroom duty today and was trying desperately to get the kids and herself ready. Brinkley helped what little she could. 

“Yeah, it'll be nice to get downtown and get in some work,” she zipped up a backpack and helped the youngest into the straps.

“You guys be careful, and give ‘em hell!” Lennie waved as the house emptied. Brinkley watched from the kitchen window until the car was completely out of sight for at least a minute.  She knew Curt would be out soon. He rose early but was not a glutton for the chaos. After two weeks of only self gratification, Brinkley felt compelled to at least bring up the subject; perhaps her method would be extreme, but it should be effective.

Her sweats were only for cover this morning. She stripped both the pants and sweatshirt off and balled them up to stow them in the cabinet under the sink.  She adjusted her cheeky panties up a little higher so that her ass cheeks were even more revealed. Her ‘shirt’ was barely that;  an old NWO Tee that had been cropped extremely short and had the arms cut out of it. From the side,  nearly her entire breast was exposed. She grabbed a bowl of grapes and set them on the island counter,  sliding the newspaper to the same spot. She bent over,  resting her elbows and forearms on the chilly, granite surface and lowered the small of her back to lift the curve of her ass higher. 

She made the position as comfortable as possible,  popping a few grapes in and nonchalantly turning the pages as she read.  

Curt walked into the kitchen, yawning as he scratched his bare torso. Straight to the coffee pot he went.  As he poured a cup,  he furrowed his brow, his brain slowly registering what he'd walked in on.  He turned to see her ass halfway hanging out of her panties and her shirt doing a terrible job at covering anything. 

Brinkley knew he couldn't see her smirking,  shifting her weight from one leg to the other. 

“Good morning, Daddy,” she greeted him,  still not facing him.  She resisted the urge to turn and look at him.  

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Curt set his mug down firmly. She could hear the irritation in his tone. She could see him being angry, in shock, maybe even surprised. The thought of any of those reactions turned her on,  each for different reasons. 

“I said,” she stood upright turning around slowly and lifting herself to sit on the edge of the counter,  “Good morning,” she slipped a grape between her lips and chewed it slowly. 

Curt shook his head, “That's not all you said,”

There was a firmness in his tone, but there was something about his look that told her to keep pushing as he stepped towards her.

“Oh, good morning Daddy?” She questioned, biting into a grape this time, “is that what you meant?”

“You know that's what the fuck I meant…” he took a couple steps closer, his body tense. He was irritated and aroused at the same time.  She should have known better than to pull this stunt. He tried to ignore the part of him that was relieved she had, “I said one time,” he punctuated his words. 

“And then you said we could ‘mess around’ another time.  If you're gonna train me,  might as well train me completely,” she countered as he stepped closer to her,  closing in on being within reach, “You did say you wanted to taste my pussy, and…” she slid off the counter and lowered herself to her knees in front of him in a fluid movement. She tugged at the drawstrings of his own pants, “doesn't Daddy want to teach me how to suck his big cock?”

Curt huffed in frustration,  his hands on his hips as she loosened the waist of his sweatpants. His quickly swelling erection wouldn't be concealable. He slid his hand over the top of her head,  gripping her hair as he forced her to look up at him. 

“Daddy wants you to stop being such a naughty girl. Gonna have to figure out how to punish you for this…” but he didn't stop her from pulling his sweats down. Loosening his grip, he let her focus on his revealed girth just inches from her face.  Her soft hands slid along the shaft in an exploratory nature.

“Lick it first,” he instructed, biting the tip of his tongue as she did so, licking the full length of the underside, flicking her tongue past the tip, “lick around the tip…yeah,  just like that,” he hissed slightly at her slowly swirling obedient tongue. 

Her eyes flickered up to his as she slipped just his tip in her mouth, slowly working it in and out of the captivity of her lips. She felt her sex throbbing and she resisted the urge to touch herself, wanting to focus on acquiring this new skill. She felt as if she were under a microscope as Curt watched her every move. She worked more of him into her mouth now, gripping the base with her hand. His hand loosened his hold on her hair, sliding to the back of her head. He pushed her forward to let him slip in deeper. He hummed in approval when her tongue wiggled as his cock slid over it. 

Unable to resist her own body’s needs, Brinkley snuck her free hand into her panties and massaged her aching nub. She surprised herself when she gagged a little, coughing to catch her breath when Curt forced himself a little deeper than she was prepared for. 

Curt smirked, keeping himself shallowly in her mouth, not letting her pull away completely, “Careful, my dick has a mind of its own,” he noticed the reactive tears at the corners of her eyes, but she smirked back. 

Brinkley felt herself inching closer to an orgasm, and realized the more stimulation she felt between her legs, the deeper she was able to take him without any impediment. She couldn’t pace her self-stimulation, moaning on his cock as she came, the entire shaft slipping into her mouth, tickling the back of her throat. 

“Shit…” Curt couldn’t help holding onto her head and fucking her mouth deeply while she let him. His balls tingled and he could have cum, wondering if she’d indeed be a good girl and swallow every drop. But he held his load at bay. She was going to find out what happened to little temptresses like her when they pushed too many buttons. 

She pulled back, gasping for breath, hazy-eyed from her climax. A string of her saliva hung from his tip and she licked it from him, teasing the tip as she did so.

He could hear her wetness as her fingers wiggled and stroked through her slit. It would be a shame to waste it.

“I want you to cum for me, Daddy…” she mumbled as she stroked the full length of his cock. 

“Oh, I'm gonna cum alright. But not yet,  stand up,” he said sharply.

Brinkley looked confused at first, standing slowly, resting her palms on the counter behind her. Curt looked at the NWO shirt, snickering. He yanked on the roughly cut hem.

“Cute. Off.” He snapped a little at her. 

Brinkley blushed, but slipped it over her head and let it fall to the floor. She realized how much brighter it was now,  the morning light was not as subtle as the dim light in the home theater. 

Curt could sense her modesty threatening her confidence. He didn't want that at all.

“Jesus, your tits are incredible,” he praised as he palmed one roughly. She bit her lip as she whimpered, “Lose the panties,” 

Standing this close, he could smell her arousal. He remembered it well. As she shimmied out of her skimpy garment and they hit the floor, Curts hand slipped between her thighs and dove slowly into her cunt. She gasped and her legs quivered, but she did not buckle.

“Up on the counter, “ he commanded again, slipping his fingers out of her greedy hole. 

The granite was cool against her backside. She watched his every move intently.

“Taste it for me,” his fingers slipped into her mouth now as she tasted herself. He moved them along her tongue, humming as she lapped her own juices from him, “think I'll like it?” He chided her, knowing full well he would.

He touched her knee and her legs spread with an immediate obedience. She leaned back slightly as he bent over.

Her breath was quick and labored before he even touched her, but the second his tongue darted between her pussy lips,  her eyes nearly rolled back.

Curt cursed under his breath at the flavor of her sweet musk. He could taste this daily and not tire of it.  She reacted to every stroke of his tongue,  every graze of his lips,  every nibble from his teeth. 

“Daddy,” she panted, swallowing to wet her dry mouth, “please make me cum again,” she begged of him. He sucked roughly on her clit in response. He held her thighs still, feeling her muscles tense as she came.

“Fuck! Yes, Daddy, yes, yes yes yes yes,” she called out, her hips trying to fuck his mouth back. Still trying to catch her breath, she felt him pull her off the counter. He spun her around and bent her over the counter now, kicking her feet apart. He sunk his cock into her quickly from behind. 

Brinkley yelped at the sudden intrusion, gasping as he withdrew and filled her again just as aggressively. The sound of his pelvis smacking against her ass echoed off the walls. His hand reached up to grab her shoulder, only increasing the force of his slow, but fierce thrusts. 

Brinkley tried to grip the counter for dear life. She had not prepared for this. Her inexperienced pussy could barely handle the sensations from being fucked this hard. She could find no words, only whimpered moans escaped her parted lips.

“This is what Daddy does when he's angry,” he growled leaning over her. He grabbed her other shoulder now, forcing her back to bend slightly as he pulled her back into him just as vigorously as he was driving into her.

“I'm….s-sorry…D-daddy,” she managed out between thrusts.

“Oh, you're gonna be sorry alright,” Curt grumbled, picking one of her legs up and swinging it over the edge of the counter.  Her toes barely grazed the floor now and his cock muscled deeper. He fucked her faster now, knowing she was not prepared for this pace or intensity. He smacked her ass sharply, a red print of his hand quickly forming.

She rewarded his actions, cumming again and a swell of wetness coated him. She felt like a rag doll at his complete disposal and she definitely didn't hate the idea. She fell flat on the counter as he released her shoulders, instead gripping her hips tightly, directing them at his pace.  The meshing of their bodies was nearly deafening now.  He knew the weight of his balls smacking against her clit must have been stinging glances. 

“Curt…” she whimpered out, her breath shallow.

He tightened his grip around her hips as he grunted loudly, cum rushed from his tip, his balls tightening as his load left him. His forehead sweaty, he bent over to rest it against her back. He felt her ragged breaths. He would bet almost anything she had been close to passing out. He'd known it would be too much for just her second time,  but she'd started it. He chose to finish it. 

Helping her off the counter and back onto her feet, he steadied her as she struggled to balance. He left her side to grab water from the fridge and encouraged her to drink, which she did, greedily.

“That was ‘another time’,” he said plainly. Brinkley looked up at him for a moment before nodding her head, “Can I trust you not to pull this again?”

Brinkley swallowed more water, catching her breath after she swallowed.  She nodded again. 

“Yes, I promise,” 

Curt knew she was telling the truth. He knew it wasn't the last time she would feel that craving of lust, but he trusted that she would at least ask if she was desperate,  not spring it on him. 

They were back on the road in about another week.  Even though he got off today,  he felt he was still owed some retribution for her devious little plan. She'd promised to behave from now on. He never said he wouldn't initiate something. 

“Go shower up,” he smacked her bare ass, “you still owe me a workout,” 

Brinkley grabbed the top and panties, also retrieving her sweats from under the sink.  She glanced back at him, blushing as he cocked an eyebrow at her. 

“You think you're slick, don't you,” he couldn't help smirking as she scurried off. He warmed up his now cold coffee. He followed her after a moment, confirming the shower turned on before retreating back to the kitchen to make a certain phone call. 

“Hey man, ready to get back on the road yet?” Curt greeted the familiar voice on the other end of the line. 

“Shit, I  could use another couple of weeks. Some of us didn't get that cushy mentorship,” the mystery man replied.

“Can't complain, it's been,” Curt looked toward the doorway, “a pretty interesting few weeks. I had a question for ya, though,”

“Shoot, anything you need, buddy,”

Curt had known this man for nearly his whole career. If there was someone who he could trust and who would also be game,  it was this guy. 

“That's what I'd hoped you'd say,” a devilish smirk crossed Curt's lips.

[squaric-acid]

A Treat for the Eyes, Pt. 2

Part 2 of my contribution to the TCR Secret Santa 2023

I'm writing for @raythecomputerart, I hope you enjoy! I was going to write something short and sweet for the cozy tea party prompt but it got entangled with the high fashion prompt and this was the result.

=====

When Haru walked into the studio space she was struck by how dark the backstage part of it was. Toto and Muta sat at a table with bottles of water and stacks of paper, no doubt the information of all the models who were auditioning.

Behind them, in a director chair, eyeing her with an unreadable but clearly calculating look, was Baron himself.

Haru was taken by surprise. He was a slim man, with short tawny hair curled stylishly on his head. He couldn’t be any more than thirty from Haru’s reckoning but his eyes held a look that made him seem both younger and much older all at once. He was clean-shaven and although his features were defined they weren’t chiseled to the likes of Tom Hiddleston, there was softness there too.

Haru’s mouth had parted but she took no notice.

Baron looked down at the black notebook resting on his knee. Now that his face was not captivating her entire being, Haru examined what he was wearing. She was a model after all and took a professional interest in clothes.

He wore a light gray pair of herringbone tweed trousers and a pearl colored button down shirt that was rolled roguishly up to his elbows. Curiously, his hands were covered in tailored white linen gloves. He was, all-in-all, as expected, exceedingly handsome.

She must have voiced part of this last observation aloud because Toto snickered a little bit.

“Haru?” Asked Muta’s gruff, no-nonsense voice.

“Oh, yes?” Haru shook herself. It did not seem as though Baron had heard her admission.

“If you would step into the light and pose,” the rotund photographer asked.

Haru set her bag down and squared her shoulders. It was not full studio lighting and Haru was grateful. It was just enough light to see what you were working with but not so much that clothes would start ironing themselves.

Haru posed. Nice and simple. Muta and Toto occasionally voiced directions.

“Walk towards us.” Said Muta.

Haru did as asked but as she did so she noticed Baron leaning over Muta’s shoulder and whispering something through the glare of the studio lights. She stumbled, earning concerned looks from all three men.

When she reached the front of the lighted studio space Baron was watching her with a keen eye and Toto and Muta were making notes.

Haru hesitated.

“Is that everything?”

“Er, not quite,” Toto said.

“Baron’s going to take your measurements while Muta and I arrange the details for the shoot.”

Haru felt her cheeks warm and by the time she’d processed that information Baron was already by her side. Toto and Muta had flown into a flurry of activity and discussion, of which Haru caught very little.

“Why?” Haru managed to ask. It wasn’t common knowledge that designer collections were not strictly tailor-made to fit the models who presented them. Baron really was a particular customer.

Baron smiled at her, his eyes were a vivid shade of emerald green with peridot and gold highlights. They looked magical and oddly feline.

“It wouldn’t do for you to model something if it doesn’t fit you properly.”

Haru’s cheeks erupted in blush and Baron circled her with his tape measure. Baron’s voice was articulate and well-spoken, he spoke with the air of an aristocrat but there was a slight accent to his voice. French, or German was more likely.

When he had finished, Toto held out a slip of paper. Baron took it and looked it over. He handed it to Haru. On it was an address. 

“Come by my studio a week from today. You’ll be able to preview the collection and we’ll do the final fitting.”

“But,” Haru protested. “Why me, wouldn’t someone like Yuki be more appropriate for a shoot like this?”

Baron put a gloved hand to his chin and thought for a moment. Then he smiled and Haru’s heart jumped behind her ribs. 

“I think you are more than suitable.” He tapped the piece of paper in Haru’s hand. 

“Next week, until then I want you to do just one thing. Always believe in yourself. Do that and no matter where you are you will have nothing to fear.”

He ushered her towards the door and with a kind smile left her in the hall. 

Haru could hardly believe her ears nor her luck. 

~@~

Hiromi was over the moon at her friend’s news.

“I can’t believe you are going to be modeling Baron’s newest collection! I’m so happy for you!” Hiromi gushed over the phone. Haru smiled a little cautiously at her friend’s optimism. While she may be modeling Baron’s newest collection there was no guarantee that it would be a success or that it would do anything for her career. She still didn’t even know what his newest collection was. Muta had informed her later that day that Baron liked to keep everyone on their toes about his work, she would just have to wait until the final fitting to see.

Haru had elected to keep Baron’s parting words to her to herself. They seemed too precious to repeat outside her own head just yet.

~@~

The week passed remarkably quickly and at the same time slower than molasses. Everytime Haru thought about the fitting she became a bundle of nerves. Yet no one seemed to realize that Baron had selected her to be his model for his newest collection. For this Haru was glad, some of the more premier models were bullies. 

She arrived on the innocuous doorstep of the building whose address was written on the piece of paper in her hand. It was a lovely old brick building in a fashionable district of London with touches of the art nouveau style. The ground floor was a tasteful looking coffee shop that smelled aromatic and strong. Haru made a mental reminder to visit this cafe sometime in the near future. 

But she wasn’t here for coffee. Instead she pressed the doorbell beside a black door with a large glass window pane and stairway leading up behind it. A few moments later Baron descended the stairs and smiled at her through the window as he unlocked the door.

“Good morning, Miss Haru,” he greeted her.

“Good morning Baron,” Haru replied.

“Come now, we are to be working together, you must call me by my true name.”

Baron stood back and bowed, with remarkable flair for as little room as there was at the foot of the stairwell. 

“I am Humbert von Gikkingen.”

He held out his hand and Haru took it.

“Pleased to meet you!” Haru giggled in delight.

Still holding her hand Baron began to climb the stairs, “come upstairs to my studio, we’re almost ready for you.”

The two went up the stairs hand-in-hand. At the top of the stairs there was another door that opened into a large studio space. More accurately the space was that of a craftsman or an artisan with small hints or being lived in. The space was open with an exposed brick wall in part of the room while other parts had what Haru suspected was Victorian reproduction wallpaper. There was a kitchenette along one wall and along the other wall were whiteboards, peg boards and cork boards filled with sketches, reference photographs, fabric samples, notes, and even a bundle of dried flowers. 

On the floor there were work tables with gridlines and more than one sewing machine. There were studio lights and mannequins and racks filled with hangars with what Haru could only surmise were prototypes to some of Baron’s other designs, covered in white sheets.

Haru was agog. She barely even noticed that there were other people in the room. Muta was setting up a tripod in the back and Toto was leaning against the counter in the kitchenette with a cup in hand, sipping casually.

“It’s wonderful, Baron-Humbert,” Haru said reverently. 

“I’m glad you like it.” Baron gave her another kind smile, disregarding her slip-up.

“She’s certainly more appreciative than some of your other models Baron,” Toto remarked from the kitchenette.

“Indeed,” said Baron.

“She’s going to be wonderful on set.” Came a voice that Haru didn’t recognize. 

“This is Seiji Amasawa, my assistant.” Baron gestured to the man who had spoken. He looked younger than Haru, probably in his last year or two of university. He had a serious face and dark hair and was currently sewing a button onto a cream-colored blouse.

“And over there is Sophie Pendragon, my milliner and haberdasher.” 

Sophie was a young woman with sparkling silver hair and thin, clever fingers. One of her fingers was encircled by a metallic band with a red gemstone.

“We’re looking forward to working with you,” said Sophie. “We’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

Haru nodded and slipped out of her coat which Baron took and hung somewhere behind her.

“You can sit over here.” Baron led her to a plush sofa near the kitchenette.

Would you like milk or lemon in your tea?”

“Milk, please.”

“Good choice.”

“This is my own blend or tea, it’s a little different each time so I can’t guarantee the flavor,” Baron said as he handed her a teacup and saucer.

Haru took a sip. 

“This is the best tea I’ve ever tasted.”

“Then you’re lucky.” Was Baron’s reply.

~@~

Haru drank her tea and soon enough Baron, Seiji, and Sophie had everything ready. Muta and Toto were to be taking notes on lighting and set design and make-up choices. Baron would make note of any final alterations. 

Haru had to admit this was the most interesting fitting she had ever done. There were no mirrors, so she had no idea how she looked. Despite being in and out of the garments she saw very little of them, hardly had any time to savor them. Some lace here, some delicate embroidery there, the weight of beading somewhere. Swishes of satin and silk, the soft heft of linen and cotton. Haru felt her heart patter a little faster with every button fastened.

Somehow everything fit very well. Baron clearly knew what he was doing when he had taken her measurements. Sophie had flitted about experimenting with trimmings and accessories. Seiji had been pinning what little needed further alteration before the shoot.

Haru found herself floating right along with proceedings. Although she answered whatever questions were tossed her way, she found herself too caught up in it all, her eyes were full of stars.

Before long the fitting was over and Haru was taking a taxi back to her apartment. It had started to rain and Baron had insisted she take one. Just as she was about to get in Baron handed her another slip of paper with the details for the photoshoot on it. The time and date and location. 

It was scheduled for the following weekend, four days away. 

Hiromi noticed her friend’s faraway look of awe the moment she returned to their shared apartment. And Hiromi was so relieved to see such an expression on her friend’s face that she let it go without teasing.

=====

Thank you so much for reading! Stay tuned for parts 3 and 4!

[let-minnow]

A Dance, Warrior of Darkness? (Part 1)

Warnings: FFXIV fanfic, Shadowbringers Patch, Wol/Exarch, Miqote/F/WOL, The First. If you do not wanna be spoiled, git outta heeeer.

A dalliance between peers that could end poorly, or oddly.

Disclaimer: I do not own any FFXIV Characters or storyline appropriately placed or misplaced.

The people of the Crystarium oft kept their works and activities of daily living the center of focus, but every once in awhile, they would hold a type of celebration where they would dance, feast, compete, and just enjoy the presence of one another's company. Almost a type of festive togetherness for the people of Lakeland.

Minnow was overwhelmed by the sights, smells and especially the smiles and laughter.

With the fall of the second to last Lightwarden, the return of most of the night sky and (most importantly) the decrease in Sineater attacks, the people of Lakeland were in exceptionally high spirits. This ball would be vastly different than most, mainly in the fact that there would be no competition. Almost a festive get-together of appreciation and gratitude. The warrior of darkness loved festivities, but knew that she had, of late, grown tired of them. Mainly of the need to arrive, smile her face off, then lay in bed at the end of the night only to wake well past noon from the exhaustion. It would be nice to just exist in the pool of civilian normality rather than have attention always be drawn to her in gratitude or some other thing, not that she didn't appreciate it.

As the evening pulled into the darkening of the sky, Minnow found herself watching the party from the high stair swirling up and around the building in the dimmer light.

It felt more comforting, being up here, and somehow, someway, she had not been called to make the toast or be given a toast. No one came to insist upon an appearance, though she was technically here just not in plain sight, and for it she was ever grateful. Her onyx-colored tail swished contentedly behind her as she enjoyed the music and watched the twins below enjoy the party together. A smile stuck to her mouth as she observed a coy look suddenly overtake Alphinaud and he said something very tight-lipped, but not so much to avoid Alisaie's gaze of irritation. His eyebrows bounced at her, knowing his words had hit their mark and he quite luckily dodged an air-cutting swing of her hand. Thankfully she just barely missed slapping a passerby. Minnow found herself closing her eyes and huffing mirthfully as Alisaie made an attempt to give chase to the suddenly quite elusive older brother.

"I see you have made yourself comfortable as an observer, Warrior of Darkness." A kind, familiar voice startled her from her left. Standing about eight feet away was the Exarch, a soft smile taking up his mouth. That extremely familiar upper lip. It bugged her because as much as she knew she had seen a similar lip shape before, she could not particularly recall where or when. She nodded and straightened her stance in respect. "Might I join you here? I hope I am not encroaching upon your solitude."

Minnow shook her head and gestured with her hand that shadowed the empty space beside her so as to say 'be my guest'. She was glad of his company in the fact that she had time to gauge him in a more relaxed environment than the usual room they met. More ability to gain clues, were there any to be found. His soft smile widened a bit under his cowl as he calmly came to stand beside and observe the festivities in a similar fashion as she. They spoke not a word for a few moments as they watched the people of the Crystarium enjoy their dances and congregations. Minnow wondered deeply about who and what the Exarch was and why, but when she stood beside him like this, in quiet or no, she did not feel like she was in the presence of an adversary. A strong leader moreso, but here and now, Minnow swore she felt the comfortable silence and calming energy of an old friend.

It was so easy to trust. To be what he asked. It made her nervous and even so, her curiousness ever deepened.

"I should have ascertained your stance on the matter before suggesting this little celebration." He murmured aloud, gaze still upon the dancing crowd as he tilted his face for her to better hear him over the heightened voices from down below. "I would have realized that they were not exactly your forte." She felt her eyes widen as he gently nodded. "Yes... It's obvious. It must have been exhausting back home."

That right there. So easily, he understood her just from body language and actions. Subtleties alone helped him figure it all out so easily. His observance could be done by anyone, but he came through for it the most verbal. She knew it was because she'd undertaken a terribly large burden for Lakeland and all of what was left of the First, but it felt very nice to be understood at face value. Also a bit unnerving by someone who wouldnt show his face, and though the fact itself bothered her mind, her energies felt safe for these conflictions.

She shrugged, sighing to herself as she shifted into a more comfortable position as she let her arms rest over the metal bar, allowing her to hover the festivities below. "They are, but that's only because they ask me to toast or be spotlit or some other silly thing to make sure I know they're all grateful. I know it wouldn't happen here... But it's a bit overwhelming sometimes."

He nodded at her statement, seeming quite understanding. "Then this shall be the last time it happens like this. That, I can promise." An odd feeling hit her at the words that left his lips. As if he truly meant it in an echoing, numbingly true kind of way. She turned her head to look fully at him only to find a seemingly smaller smile than before, almost as if it were a bittersweet statement that had escaped him. Had she upset him or seemed ungrateful at all? Her stomach panged in guilt, ears flexing.

"Exarch, truly, I meant no offense-"

"No," he breathed quickly, "-I did not mean for it to sound so broken. The fact that you are here to note their gratitude is a kindness, but to you... As unintentional as it was, it likely felt like an obligation. This was supposed to be relaxing for you, and I've made quite a mess of many things out of desperation, and that you have helped the First in so many ways... I cannot be grateful enough." He bowed his hooded head in solemn respect, which immediately startled her. "Thank you, Minnow. For all you've been doing and for what you have done." His guilt for her friends being stuck here was really shining through thick this time around.

Her ears drooped to level with her skull. "Please, don't thank me. Not yet." She turned to stare down at those in crowds, dancing and sipping and laughing their night away. "Even as one strong in faith for the future... I've not yet finished the job." She paused. Her vision was radiant, but not quite so beautifully. Most of what she saw was blinding, but not so over-encumbered in light that she could not decipher faces and objects. It was the proof that she had slayed Lightwardens... And how impossibly Light she was becoming.

The Exarch held that heavy pause with her but nodded as she exhaled a note of hope for changing the subject. "The music is glourious! It flows and ebbs so wonderfully, I feel myself becoming a part of this building; enduring and feeling the majesty of the minds behind these wonderful people you guide. It is nothing short of amazing."

"I have to agree with you there." He leaned into the conversation without waver. "They really know how to pull you into a routine, whether you ask or no." He delved, sounding happy to hear about something here that made her feel good to be present in. Minnow felt a spark of maybe a memory strong enough to be felt; Her only intuitive power besides the ever fickle Echo. She tilted her head to him, grinning curiously.

"A few times too many pulled to be a part of something a bit fantastic?" She asked, shifting slightly closer to see his face a bit better. With any luck, she would get a chance to see some features. He tilted toward her, quite advantageously for Minnow's goal but she could only see what was already there before. Or allowed to be seen. It had to be a glamour, no doubt about that.

"Ah..." He hummed, seeming humored in the thought. "To dance, yes. I cannot do much music, but dancing is a simple thing if you live here in Lakeland. Once, I was enjoying what I was hearing as I shuffled by with some paperwork near the Plaza and happened to stop and watch of the crowd learning some ballroom type of step. They pulled me in at some point, though as much as I did learn quite a bit, I was quite uncomfortable. I lost a few parchments due to some wind catching while I was predisposed in learning, but someone thankfully retrieved them and repaired any damages."

Minnow found herself beaming watching his expression change with every piece he described, his smile small and melancholy in the end. "You truly have wonderful bounty of people. They are kind, like you." She hummed, looking down at them as they enjoyed their company and looked at the Exarch again.

His mouth opened secondarily, as if he was unsure what to say for a second. "Oh no... They are not mine. If anything, I am theirs... Rather I am for them and theirs. Everything they are, they are by benefit of hoping for the future of the star and simultaneously working towards it. I am but a guidance and a friend to their goals."

"You guide and help them,... Are they not for you, as well? I cannot see them not thinking the same way. When they work, I feel the same kindred spirit as I do when I see you encourage and search to help us out of the predicament..." She gritted her teeth as she felt confliction. "-I'd hoped to avoid bringing up again but it would seem that I have done it myself." She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, not noticing the paused expression the Exarch wore as he gazed at her. "Point is... You and the people of the Crystarium work on a similar wavelength and it shows. I trust your people... And for some reason, I trust you, Exarch."

The music rose in volume as Minnow eyed him, then closed her eyes to inhale as she turned her head to look at the glass ceiling. After a short pause, the Exarch cleared his suddenly very cloudy-sounding throat.

"And with that, I have a proposition, Warrior of Darkness." He stretched out his hand toward her as the music picked up in tempo, a confident smile replacing the melancholy one from before. Her heart picked up its pace. "I am not a great dancer... But I would be honored if you danced with me, here, above the Crystarium in mostly private so there feels to be no pressure from a crowd." He paused. "Do not feel obligated to say yes, of course. I am no stranger to being nervous in such circumstances and I hope that any remaining pressure is relieved and you choose precisely what you desire." His hooded head turned, hand still lingering in air.

She took it before his neck finished the turn outward, stopping him dead in place to shift back to her, looking surprised proper. Minnow smiled in short-lived embarassment at his reaction and nodded. "I don't dance... Although, I do want to dance with you..." Brief eye contact with his hood seemed so deeply electric. "So, how does one do this dance?" It was so quick, she wasnt quite sure she saw it, but 'neath the cowl, either she saw a shadow play or Minnow temporarily saw the Exarch beam. Whether that was the case or no, the thought had her stomach warming in anticipation. Regardless, it had quickly vanished into an expression of heated focus. Stepping forward, he reached out his crystaline right arm.

"See this hand? Place your left hand into the middle as if you're trying to grab it all the way around." She did so, and the Exarch nodded in confirmation. "Yes." A drawn out whisper as he then tapped his left shoulder. "And your right hand shall sit upon my opposite shoulder to let my upper body guide your direction." Minnow let her hand reach to his shoulder as he matched her stance. "Just there, and my left hand goes at the waist. Then, to my right, we slowly step together." He shifted, and Minnow felt herself slide along awkwardly as her focus went immediately to her feet and her hand closed around his crystal one, and most importantly, his left hand at her side. She only thanked the Gods that he chose to not touch her skin with the lack of cloth between breast and hip.

The Exarch's mouth hinted at amusement as her eyes shifted down but his tone did not show it as he guided gently. "When I step, you'll follow me, but when you do so, try to pick up your leading foot only to just hovering the floor as we step, a sweeping step, like so, and it will feel like you are gliding across the ground with me."

She followed his action and found him to be correct. Her mouth opened in suprise and elation, and quite quickly as she found her rhythm.

"You're a natural, of course." He hummed as she looked up for a second or two. His expression seemed content, almost as if he'd already known she would be fine. It only made sense, for she was quite coordinated when it came to learning physical activities.

After a moment or two, she finally got brazen enough to stop looking at her feet and face her dance partner as he guided their steps. They stepped and shifted and glided like that for a time, Minnow began to realize she was having an absolute blast as the routine became habit. "This is... I can't believe I've not tried before." She murmured. The Exarch cleared his throat a little bit as they continued their slow, steady steps.

"It takes a level of consented intimacy; being very close to another human body. It's only natural to be uncomfortable about the thought at first. Though I must admit, this is the first time I've felt comfortable doing this. Perhaps it is because I am in the teaching position this time around."

Minnow grinned cheekily, her shoulders bouncing with her involuntary amusement as she thought of the Exarch learning to dance for the first time.

He was right, though. The closeness was a bit stressful, but it eased quickly when the learning began. Her left hand holding fast to a crystal right was quite interesting to say the least. To be perfectly blunt, the one thing that had never left her mind since it had made contact was his hand on her waist. It felt far more intimate than any other act of the dance, but she knew it was actually quite a natural, normal part of dancing. Reading books where romance started at a ball or a celebratory dance was quite common and Minnow couldnt help but wonder if this kind of physical contact was exactly the reason, amongst other things. Dancing was also another way to figure out what people were like up close, and no doubt had to have close conversation. Another intimate kind of action.

"What are you thinking about?" He whispered suddenly, catching her off-guard as it pulled her from her scattered thoughts.

"Huh?" She began, slipping off balance during a jumbled step. The hand that held her waist suddenly pulled back and up as her hands tightened on his shoulder and fingers for stability. All these working together ended in a complete halt of movement and their bodies being very tightly pressed together. Their expressions wore heavily of shock and Minnow felt her face burn red. Suddenly, the Exarch began to chuckle and he began to stand her aright, helping her correct her own posture.

"I cannot help but fear I may have tread upon a private thought."

Minnow straightened as they reenstated their dance poses. "No, not quite so private... More like I got lost in my own head thinking about books."

He breathed out kindly, but said nothing as they continued their activity. She turned her focus upon his hand as she held it back, twisting in glide as the Exarch spun her suddenly. As she came to a stop, his shoulders shook as he grinned.

He was fully enjoying himself!

Her heart rate had already picked up in her embarassment of her stumble, now it rose in pace everytime they inched closer, everytime he laughed...

She wondered how the translucent stone fingers would feel caressing her face or her back. Where did it all cover on him? Would he answer if she asked about it?

"You have that 'lost in thought' look again, and it does not look to be about books." He stated, slowing his movement to avoid the potential earlier mishap, she knew. Her ears perked as he then asked, "A gil for your thoughts?"

Unable to control her suprise, she laughed because now she really wanted to ask, consequence of his response be damned.

"Hold your coin, it may not be worth paying for in the end."

His head tilted in question, but the curiosity painted on his mouth as amusement. "Now this, I simply must hear."

Minnow blinked, then giggled again, composing herself with a long breath before she began.

"Your crystal..., where does the crystal fully cover?"

His head tilted upward, which instantly had Minnow looking straight into his hood without means to disguise it. Still, nothing of difference from before. It didnt hurt to try. His mouth pursed in concentration, which had her in immediate pause. That reminded her so strongly of...

"It covers a decent amount." He finally said, breaking Minnow's concentration as he finally levelled his head to face her. "It takes up my arm, a portion of my chest, a large section of my shoulders and reaches up my neck on both sides, only just touching my cheeks. I am lucky it is not full, I may have been rendered quite useless if it had."

"What about... You know." Her eyes flashed down and up quickly, as to not use any potentially uncouth language in regards to his... Lower regions. This question fully paused him, his mouth opened as if he were aghast.

Ugh... Minnow thought, this may end badly, but he did in fact ask and definitely wanted to hear it. She hoped beyond hope that he'd find it odd enough to laugh a bit. During her mental trepidation, he suddenly tilted his head to his left only slightly and hummed, almost as if he didnt know... and actually had to think about it. Gods, she may get an actual response.

"You mean 'below the belt', as it were?"

She nodded, allowing a toothy grin in her silliness. "You asked, I delivered."

He purses his lips again, looking to the left once more, then restraightening as a response finally formed.

"That's... Actually quite difficult to describe." A second of quiet had passed when suddenly his mouth shifted from a gentle repose to a clever looking smirk. "With your consent, I could always just show you."

Her heart stopped and her mouth slung open, startled beyond belief.

That cheeky little shite! He had sneakily taken what remained of her collectedness, but she found herself suddenly unable to say she didn't want to.

At first, she was too curious. Now, however, she wanted to see him. Give into a mad suggestion. Be touched by crystal hand...

He must have seen too much shock on her face, because he then grinned outright and breathed, "Apologies, it was a poor je-"

"I'm... I wouldn't mind." She paused, thinking about how to properly or politely agree to such a thing. "I have... Been curious about you since our fourth meeting. Being around you feels, in a way, comforting and familliar. And now... I'm very interested in knowing you."

Her tail swung slowly yet purposefully behind her as he seemed briefly lost for words. The cleverness had seemingly been exumed from his voice as he responded gently, almost held together.

"That will not be necessary, I assure you. You have life ahead of you and a home to go back to and this venture is so brief and..." He trailed off, noticing her tail or maybe her expression. He was closing his window... So his secrets truly were too close to his heart to just open up. Smart man, but his secrets interested her less and less as the tension blazed.

"You may jest, but I do not." She pressed, her hand upon his shoulder squeezing him gently. "If our time is brief as you make it sound, then may I spend it with you? Like this?" She paused, trying to gauge his expression. If she didn't know any better, she'd say the Exarch was on the edge of his feet as his grip upon her stiffened. She continued.

"Mayhap... A bit closer than this, in a different room with a different vibration?"

[robininthelabyrinth]

JGY bonding with Baxia over their shared appreciation for murder - 🌻🐢🐅

kitten thinks of murder all day (JGY & Baxia) - ao3

Jin Guangyao had had plans.

In all fairness, he didn’t really think that the stupid array would work. He’d believed that he was wise in the ways of cultivation, able to tell what was real and what was false, and an array that supposedly could swap souls between bodies…that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Utterly absurd. He’d found it in Wen Ruohan’s library, and even that madman of a tyrant had laughed upon seeing it, shaking his head.

At the time, Jin Guangyao had thought it was because it was a joke, but later it had occurred to him that Wen Ruohan did not have a sense of humor, having excised it along with most of his sanity well before he’d ever met him; as a result, he’d decided there was no harm in giving it a try. After all, the alternative was going to be having to execute his father’s order to get rid of Nie Mingjue – he had a plan for that, too, and it was sinister even by his usual standards, an exploitation of his sworn brother’s well-known familial weakness…still, it was such a waste.

Might as well have a little fun first, right?

So he’d tried it out, and it had worked. He’d woken up dizzy, having fallen on the floor when the array activated, but he’d woken up in Nie Mingjue’s body. Nie Mingjue himself, in Jin Guangyao’s body, was still unconscious, having not had the benefit of preparation the way Jin Guangyao had; he was fundamentally fine, being tended to by the doctors, and Jin Guangyao had every intention of exploiting both the initial time before he awoke and, later, for as long as it took them to switch back. Nie Mingjue wouldn’t want to reveal weakness, and that meant Jin Guangyao would have to act for some period of time as Sect Leader Nie – the things he could get his hands on with that type of access…!

He’d had plans.

Those plans had lasted…not especially long, on account of something very large uncurling in the back of his mind and saying in a thunderous clash of screaming metal: You are not my master.

What, Jin Guangyao thought, meaning - what the fuck is that.

I am Baxia.

Well shit, Jin Guangyao thought next. He hadn’t anticipated that.

This was going to put a serious crimp in his plans to murder a whole lot of people.

No, hold on, back up, Baxia said, voice heavy and ponderous and inhuman. Let us not be too hasty here. Can I add people to the list?

…what?

I want to murder some people too.

Jin Guangyao was momentarily speechless. Aren’t you a saber?

I’m not allowed to go killing anyone I like, Baxia said, and if it was possible for an inhuman screech of metal to sound like it was sulking, Baxia was doing its best approximation of that at the moment. It’s not ‘appropriately in line with morality and ethics’.

Jin Guangyao…felt a very odd sort of sympathy. You got that lecture too?

Hah! You think he came up with it for your sake, human brother? I’ve been hearing it for years!

Come to think of it, Nie Mingjue’s scolding had sounded a bit practiced.

Why can’t I kill some people? Baxia complained. I’m meant to fight evil, right? People are evil. They’re also in my way, and I hate that.

Another pang of sympathy. Maybe even empathy.

He must be going mad, Jin Guangyao decided. The disadvantage of temporarily shifting into the body of someone with a tendency towards qi deviations and insanity, no doubt. Otherwise, why would he be feeling kinship with a saber?

With Nie Mingjue’s saber, no less!

He’d just been planning on killing the man!

No, no, you can’t kill my master, that would be awful. He’s really quite all right once you figure out how he works, Baxia said.

I have tried, Jin Guangyao protested, feeling oddly insulted. You have no idea how much I’ve tried! Back when I was his deputy, there wasn’t a single vice I didn’t try to throw his way, and he didn’t bite on any of them. And after things fell apart between us, it only got worse – he swore brotherhood with me, but he never has a kind word to say!

That’s because you’re approaching it all wrong, Baxia said. He’s not the sort that you can manipulate with his vices. You have to attack his virtues, instead.

…what?

Do you think he loves little Huaisang?

Of course.

And how does he treat him? Kind words?

Jin Guangyao snorted. Nie Mingjue scolded no one in the world more than his much-beloved half-brother.

Then he frowned.

Are you suggesting that he’s trying to treat me like a brother by…yelling at me?

His frown deepened.

Even if he is, how does that help me? He still doesn’t trust me, and I can’t manipulate him – uh, that is –

Say what you mean, Baxia ordered. There’s no point in being circuitous in here, I can hear everything you think. Anyway, you’re still thinking the wrong way. You don’t need him to stop yelling at you, that’s impossible – take it from one who knows. No, what you really want is just for him to let you kill people, right?

…well…

There’s a trick for that.

Jin Guangyao’s interest was piqued. I’m listening.

All right. This is how you do it: ask.

What?

Ask.

That’s ridiculous!

Is it?

Yes! He would never stand for me slaughtering a path through my enemies, especially not if I told him about it in advance – even if I tried to play it off as if they’d done something to me first, made it fit inside the accepted narrative of revenge, he’d only question my motives and think I was up to something…

It’s like you’re deaf, Baxia said. Did I say play? I said ask. Just tell him you want to murder them, then let him figure out what to do with it.

That won’t work!

Which of us has managed to convince him to murder people again?

You’re his saber. I’m just –

His sworn brother.

Hmm. No, what was he thinking? It was completely impossible. Ridiculous. There was no way that Nie Mingjue would wrack his brain to find a way to justify letting him murder someone just because he said he wanted to; no one was that indulgent, not even of their relatives...

Hmm.

…would that actually work? he asked.

Completely. Now, come on, he’s asleep right now, right? We can definitely pretend there was some psychosis involved in the array, or that I took the opportunity to take over or something like that. Let’s go kill the most unreachable person you can think of!

Presumably someone evil?

I’m not picky, Baxia said. You’re all evil in some way, you humans. How about your father? He’s pretty awful.

I’m not about to kill my father!

Would it make you feel better if I killed him…?

No!

But he’s awful! And you’ll never get another chance as good as this one!

If I want to kill him later, I have ideas for that.

Hmm, Baxia said, reading them. Elaborate, shameful, I like it. But then you’d have to kill the whores, wouldn’t you? You’d feel bad about that.

I would not. How dare you.

You would too. You humans are all like that. It’ll be ‘oh it’s just some whores, no one will care’ at the start and then suddenly it’s ‘well this one reminds me of someone I know’ or ‘she said she has a child’ and next thing you know you’re making excuses and trying to preserve life…hypocrisy, hypocrisy, hypocrisy. Kill them all!

Jin Guangyao had a brief and highly unsettling moment where he felt vaguely bad for Nie Mingjue. No wonder none of his temptations had ever worked on him, if he was used to a constant murderous presence in the back of his mind…

Come oooooon, little human! The more you drag your feet the fewer people we can plausibly slaughter while 'temporarily mad'. Let’s do this thing!

We are not going to – wait, I sound like da-ge. Okay, new plan: let’s go murder people.

Jin Guangyao had had plans.

He had new plans, now.

For some reason, he thought it would work out all right.

[wolfsclothing6]

It had been a decent enough weekend for Eric as he headed back to campus. He just couldn’t find the motivation he once had. Classes weren’t going well. This was partially due to his lack of attendance. Eric figured that once he started failing a class there was no hope to recover, so why keep going.

His parents had yelled him about wasting time and money. Not like it was there money anyway. Eric had taken out enough student loans to cover each semester. Eventually Eric stopped talking to his parents about school and would change the subject when it came up.

Eric’s one moment of peace and quiet was talking with his Grandfather. More appropriately, sitting around quietly with his Grandfather while he smoked his pipe in the front stoop. Eric would complain about college and all his Grandfather would say was how it wasn’t for everyone. Once Eric heard that he would feel relaxed. Eric’s Grandfather rarely have advice. He would just listen for long periods of time and then would say one or two sentences that would just make it all click and seem so clear. The pipe smoke didn’t hurt either. Eric enjoyed the smell of his Grandfather’s pipe, but he know that his parents would kill him if he started smoking on top of everything else they was going on.

As he left he made the same empty promises to change the the always would tell his parents. Just to get them off his back. As he made his way to his vehicle Eric’s Grandfather came up to the car window and handed Eric a neatly wrapped package.

“Something to help you get through these troubling times.”

Eric just smiled, thanked him, and drove off.

As he headed out of town he stopped at a gas station to tank up before the long eight hour journey. He looked at the package sitting next to him on the passenger seat. Deciding to see what his Grandfather gave him he tore into the plain paper.

Inside the box was a pouch of smoking tobacco, some pipe tools, and a case with a pipe. A note had been placed in there as well.

“Eric- I hope this helps you find yourself.”

Excited, Eric packed the pipe like he’d seen his grandfather do so many times before. The first few puffs were rough. He’d take the rich smoke in too deeply. Hold it too long. Eventually he got into a pattern. He looked at himself in the rear view mirror and chuckled at the site of such a pipe stick from the face of a college man.

He drove on and kept the pipe going as he did. Refilling it as needed. Eric kept the windows rolled up. He figured if he was going to smoke now he might as well immerse himself in it. He never minded the way his Grandfather smelled of pipe smoke anyway.

As he drove Eric felt a warmth inside him. It reminded him of a post-Thanksgiving meal. A feeling of being full and content. His jaw would seem to ache every so often from clenching the pipe. Eric would rub his jaw. The moment he felt stubble he looked at himself in the reflection. He’d just shaved that morning but he already had a few days worth of stubble. But rather than be alarmed he thought about how good the pipe would look hanging from a bearded face.

He patted his belly in contentment taking note of the difference but again being oddly okay at the change. Why would he have a belly. He wasn’t particularly active.

The smoke swirled around as he drove. He only would crack the window every so often if I became too smokey to see.

As he would bring his hand to his face he noted that the stubble had continued to grow. He stroked his beard for effect. Noting that his eyes seemed tired looking. Maybe it was the drive. Maybe it was the smoke. Was that gray in his beard?

When he stopped for lunch he hoisted himself from his car, he noted his change in weight. As the fresh air hit him he was startled by his appearance. A couple inches of beard hanging from his aged face. He looked to be in his thirties and not at all the young college student he actually was. The only thing that pushed through this shock was his hunger. He needed food.

Ordering more than his fair share at a nearby burger place he wolfed it down with a voracious appetite. Never one to turn down a meal, he burped and patted his belly.

Back to the car he was nervous about getting back in. Maybe he could get to campus and figure out what to do. Maybe find something online that would explain it. He’d seen people sharing posts before about those who experienced changes as a result of smoking cigars or finding unusual items. Maybe somehow his Grandfather had found such a thing. But those were just stories he told himself. At least he told himself before he was a part of one.

He relit his pipe and found solace in the calming smoke. Only slightly noticing that with each puff his face would age another year. His beard would grow a little longer, graying as it did.

He found a secondary calming effect in stroking his growing beard. It helped his mind focus. Get to campus. Find out what is happening. Find out where he can get more tobacco. Find out if there are other pipe smokers like him that work there.

Yes. Work there. Eric had been a custodian there for years now. Ever since he couldn’t cut it as a student. At first it was a lie to tell his parents he was still going to college. But eventually it became his primary job.

His mind was as foggy as his car. He needed to call his Grandfather. No, that couldn’t be. He was almost the same age. His brother? Yeah. His brother who’d always watched out for him. He new he could help figure something out.

Eric stepped out of the car once he got to his apartment just off campus. He trudged himself inside after a nice holiday weekend at his brother’s.

As he sat down in his recliner he fired up his pipe once again and felt at ease in his life. Knowing that he still had the rest of the evening to relax before there would be college students messing up the campus. Creating work for him to do. He was happy with it though. It wasn’t anything too difficult and afforded him the luxury of not having any one expect too much from him. Eric had finally found himself.

[lloyd-got-a-knife]

Old wounds that don't quite heal

(A fic in which Lloyd relates a bit too much to the bullied character in the movie they're watching. No comfort, only hurt)

It was a quiet evening, the rain was drumming gently against the windows creating a soothing and cozy atmosphere and for once the ninja actually had a moment to enjoy it and rest.

Lloyd couldn't remember the last time he had had time to do normal kids stuff. His uncle had kept him busy with Green Ninja training ever since he got aged up and, even when he did have a moment of free time, he found himself uncertain of which activities he was allowed to participate in.

He still hadn't quite figured out what was age appropriate for him to do or what age he was expected to be and act like. He didn't wanna do something childish and risk being ridiculed by the others, so he tended to just avoid most things that could be deemed as such.

Lloyd was still stuck at what to even do with his freetime, when the others invited him to join them for a movie. The movie sounded kind of boring, but Lloyd's best guess was that it was a grownup movie, and he should probably get used to watching those now.

Besides, he wasn't one to shoot down the opportunity to hang out with the others. He didn't want to risk getting excluded next time they did something, and he still didn't really feel like a real part of the team. His inclusion had been very forced and rushed. First with the revelation of him being the Green Ninja, and later with him getting turned older in "the Tea Incident", as the others referred to it as.

It was safe to say that a few months ago they wouldn't even have wanted him on the team, and Lloyd still wasn't sure if they really did or if this was just out of necessity. He was leaning towards the latter though.

Either way, he was just happy to be included, so when the others put on the movie he really was feeling rather positive about the whole thing.

Then the bullying of the main character started, and Lloyd was suddenly feeling less than comfortable. Lloyd watched in horror as the main character started to get ridiculed and targeted by their peers. He felt oddly nauseous, his hands were clutching the edge of the blanket he was curled up under. This was honestly worse than when he convinced them he was fine watching adult horror movies.

He felt his shoulders tense at a particularly awful scene where the main character got hung by his belt on a clothing rag by some of the older kids.

Lloyd had to keep reminding himself it wasn't real, but it felt so real and his chest felt so tight. The laughter erupting from the characters on the TV felt sharp and painful in his ears and made his heart beat so fast it hurt. Lloyd tried to steady his breathing, but-

"Lloyd, buddy, you okay?"

Kai sounded concerned and gentle, but all Lloyd could focus on was how mocking it had once sounded. His hands shook with anger as he got up, trying not to show how dizzy he was. "I'm going for a walk," he said. His voice hoarse and cold, but surprisingly steady. He made his way towards the door.

"Lloyd, it's raining quite a bit-" Jay tried, but Lloyd was having none of it. He needed to get away right now or he was gonna explode, or, even worse, cry.

"I said, I'm going for a walk," he snapped. Then he left.

He walked for what felt like days, but was only hours. His hair and clothes was completely drenched and he felt rather cold, but he just needed to get it all at a certainly distance. When he finally felt calmer, he started to make his way back home, naively hoping they could just brush this aside and that they wouldn't have to talk about it, but when he got back the first thing he was met with were several pairs of worried eyes watching him. Lloyd felt himself shrink under their gaze and made his way for the bathroom.

He, however, didn't get very far, as we was stopped by Cole.

"Hey, buddy, did you have a nice walk?" Cole asked with a smile that seemed a bit too soft and gentle for Lloyd's liking right then.

"Yeah. Saw a bird, so that was fun," Lloyd answered, just wanting to get away from his interrogation as quickly as possible. He was cold and just wanted a hot shower and to never speak of what happened again.

Cole stared at Lloyd for a second, thrown off by the change of topic. "Oh, that's cool. Uh-" Cole hesitated, searching Lloyd's face for some kind of clue. "Do you want to talk about what happened?" He paused again before continuing. "Did something in the movie upset you?"

Lloyd looked at the others and realized they were all watching him carefully just like Cole. He grabbed his own wrist and squeezed it, a nervous habit he had had since he was a kid. "No..." Lloyd said, not wanting to elaborate further, which instead left his words hanging in the air. After a moment he spoke again. "Anyways, I- uh- I'm gonna take a shower," he said, his voice oddly pitchy. He hurried towards the bathroom, trying to brush past Cole.

Cole put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "Look, Lloyd, it's nothing to be embarrassed about," he gave Lloyd's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "If you don't feel comfortable saying it out loud you can just write it down?" Cole suggested, gently, while clearly trying to get Lloyd to meet his eyes. Lloyd however looked anywhere but Cole's eyes, instead settling for looking at his own feet.

"Lloyd, I promise I won't make fun of you for whatever it is, "Cole reassured him.

For a moment Lloyd considered it, but then Cole continued. "When have I ever made fun of you?" Lloyd saw red. He grabbed Cole's wrist and forced his hand off his shoulder, then he harshly pushed past Cole, a bit harder than he had meant to and he heard Cole stumble into a chair. Lloyd cringed, he still hadn't quite learned his own strength. He felt bad, but he was still too mad to check if Cole was okay, so instead he just hurried to the bathroom before anyone could stop him.

[pixeldolly]

Walden BACC #976

The Murrays loved family time- if it happened to be educational too, all the better, although diehard gamers like Kate and AIOS also enjoyed a bit of co-op game time. 

It wouldn’t be long before Aster and Nova would be able to join them; Kate was looking forward to introducing the twins to some of her favourite childhood games. 

For the moment, they were kept busy with a wide range of toddler-friendly activities designed to stimulate their minds and help them discover new things.

AIOS, Walden’s Chief of Police, had a lot on his plate as the town continued to grow, becoming an ever-more tempting target for criminals. He had met Eleanor Calhoun while working on a case - following an arrest, she’d been called in to represent the accused in court. 

Eleanor became a semi-regular fixture at the Murray place since going on maternity leave. She complained about going stir-crazy just sitting at home, waiting for the first signs of imminent labour, so she often stopped by in the evenings to chat. 

Eleanor: “...and then he claimed that since the victim had been resurrected as a zombie, his client should be charged with attempted murder instead.”

AIOS: “That argument is illogical; the crime had been committed, and deserved the appropriate punishment.”

Eleanor: “You’d think, but the legal implications of a person coming back to life are a minefield.”

AIOS: “Zombies are not, strictly speaking, alive.”

Eleanor: “Not strictly speaking, no, but that only complicates matters even more. There are several non-humans who are not technically alive, but legally they have the same status as any living person. Hence the minefield.”

AIOS understood; he was such a one himself.

Aster and Nova were oblivious to these grownup discussions, but that didn’t mean they were unaware of what was going on around them. They both walked and talked and soon would be starting school.

More than that, the twins seemingly had the ability to read people’s minds, although Leann had assured Kate that hybrids could rarely do more than pick up and share the odd thought and feeling. 

Those unprepared for it found it unnerving though.

Nova: “Ro!”

Evelyn: “Row? Like, Row, row, row your boat?”

Aster: “...Man.”

Nova & Aster, together: “Ro-man! Roman! Roman!”

The twins raised their heads in unison to stare at her, and for a moment Evelyn felt as if those oddly intense children’s eyes were scanning her brain. Her fur bristled down her spine.

It was true then, they could read minds! Not that she had been thinking about Roman much. Not at all! Her thoughts had wandered, that was all.

Good luck to Kate when these two are older, Evelyn thought with an involuntary shiver.