#the magic of passion

[sunday-bug]

Terry the Terrific - The Magic of Yearning

Part 1

DISCLAIMER: I haven't written in 2 years, but this is SO FUN! This is just the beginning. Stay tuned if you like pining, yearning, smut (that lipstick HAS to go somewhere), etc. Also, I named the FMC because it's how I prefer to write fanfics, but I don't mention her appearance much. Self-insert as you wish, lovelies.

Terry stormed out the front door of his mom’s Victorian home, black cape billowing in the breeze behind him. He rushed to the curb and sat down, trying to calm his breathing. His childhood best friend, Howard, was sleeping with his mom. Not just sleeping, but doing freaky shit. Normally he wasn’t one to kink-shame, but it was his mom, for Christ’s sake. No one wants to picture their mom with a ball gag in her mouth. A few teardrops ran down Terry’s face, his frustration manifesting physically. He gently wiped at his cheeks, careful not to smudge his makeup. A screen door slammed nearby, and the sounds of leaves crunched underfoot. In his peripheral vision, he saw a pair of red ballet flats walking to the mailbox next door.

“Terry?” he heard a soft-spoken voice ask. He looked up at the owner of the red ballet flats, taking a few seconds to recognize her face.

“Maggie? Hi,” he smiled bashfully, hoping she couldn’t tell that he’d been crying.

“Yeah, hey. Everything ok?” She asked, collecting the mail from the mailbox.

“Oh, uh, yeah…” he shrugged his shoulders, and stood up from the curb, “What are you doing home?”

“My folks went to check out a retirement cult in Florida, so I’m house sitting and cleaning for the season while they’re gone,” she responded. “I actually didn’t know if your mom still lived here or not,” she said, pointing to his mom’s place. “I haven’t been back in years. I was waiting to get a glimpse of who walked out, but you sitting here kinda answered that question.”

“Yeah, she’s still here,” Terry replied. 

“Well, tell her I say hello. I don’t know if she’ll remember me,” Maggie said.

“Oh, she’ll remember,” he said, eyes raking over her face. 

Maggie smiled, examining Terry’s face. He looked older, more mature. The years that had passed showed up in flashes across his face: a few crow’s feet here, a couple forehead wrinkles there. He’d gotten better at his makeup, especially his eyebrows. She cleared her throat before taking a step back toward her parent’s house, “I should head back inside. I’m working through some of their clutter and don’t want to break my momentum.” 

“Ah, sure,” he said, gesturing back to his mom’s house. “I should head back in, too.”

They both started walking up the paths to their respective childhood homes. As Maggie’s hand wrapped around the doorknob, she stopped, and looked over at the neighboring porch. Terry’s eyes met hers, and she felt her chest jilt. She rushed inside and shut the door quickly behind her, resting her body on the heavy oak frame and sighing. She heard a tinkling noise approaching her, the bell from her cat’s collar the culprit. “Hey, Chaplin, c’mere, boy,” she said, scooping him up into her arms. She carried him to the well-worn couch and plopped down, turning on the TV. She needed to distract herself. The Prestige was playing on cable. She groaned audibly. She turned the channel. The Rocky Horror Picture Show was playing on this one. Dr. Frank-n-Furter was gyrating in his fishnets. Maggie watched intently, analyzing Tim Curry’s makeup. Dr. Frank-n-Furter was one of her first crushes as a child, a fact she has never shared with anyone. Standing up and swaying around the coffee table, Chaplin still in her arms, she started singing along with the movie, “I see you shiver with antici-”

Before she could get the last line out, the doorbell rang, startling her. Chaplin leapt out of her arms and headed for the door. She quickly turned down the volume on the TV and made for the door as well, picking up Chaplin so he didn’t try to escape. She opened the door to find Terry again.

“Hello again,” she said, opening the screen door to him.

“Long time no see,” he replied with a slight smile. “I told my mom you’re back, and she wanted me to ask you to have dinner with us tonight if you don’t have plans. You know Leslie,” he said sheepishly. 

Chaplin meowed and batted playfully at Terry. “Hello,” he said, reaching to pat his head. “What’s his name?” 

Maggie swallowed subtly, “Chaplin.” 

Terry smiled again, “So? Dinner?”

“Yes. Dinner. Leslie, your mom. Um… I just have a bit of work I have to do, and then I think I can make it over.” 

“Housework or work-work?” Terry asked.

Maggie chuckled, “Both, I guess. There’s a guest room I’m nearly done cleaning, but I also have some work-work that I need to finish up. There’s this heavy wooden chest in the guest room I’m in a personal fight with.”

“Want me to take a look?” Terry offered.

“Oh, um, sure,” Maggie replied, “but fair warning: it’s a bit of a mess in here. My parents have accumulated a lot of junk over the years.” She moved to the side to let him walk in. 

Terry glanced around, taking in the space he somewhat remembered as a child. They weren’t best friends, but he and Maggie spent some time together in middle school and early junior high. They were both only children that were into magic tricks and other slightly nerdy hobbies, so they gravitated toward each other like geeky little prepubescent magnets. He spied the muted TV playing Rocky Horror in the living room and smiled to himself. She’s still a weirdo.

“It’s just this way,” she said, traipsing up the old wooden staircase, much like the one in his mom’s house. Family photos lined the walls, starting with baby Maggie at the foot of the stairs. Terry watched her grow up as they ascended to the second floor. The last photo was one of Maggie in a cap and gown, presumably from a college graduation. Terry and Maggie lost touch after junior high, so he filled in the blanks with the photos. 

“Did you study theater like you wanted to when we were kids?” Terry asked, pointing to the graduation photo.

Maggie made a retching noise, “No, I wish. My folks convinced me to go for something more practical, so I got a business degree. Now I work a soul-sucking data analysis job, but I still do improv on the weekends and volunteer at the children’s theater when I can.” 

“You were great at theater,” Terry said, reminiscing on productions long past. 

Maggie walked toward the room on the left, “So, you are obviously doing the magician thing.” She waved a hand at Terry’s painted face. “How’s that going?” 

He shrugged, “Although I love it, it doesn’t pay the bills, so I do freelance work as well. Writing, mostly,” he waved the chit chat away with a hand, “Anyway, where’s this ominous wooden chest?”

Maggie hurried over to the closet, and pointed to the floor, “He’s a thick boy.”

Terry walked over, and picked up the chest with ease, hefting it onto the spare bed. 

“Well, okay… thanks,” Maggie said, slightly exasperated that he made it look so easy.

“What’s in there? Rocks?” Terry asked, pretending to wipe sweat from his painted brow.

“I’m not sure,” Maggie mused. “Let’s find out.” She popped open the trunk more easily than she expected to. “Oh, it looks like more photos of me when I was little. My mom loves taking pictures. She rifled through a handful before gasping.

“TERRY! Oh, my goodness, look how little we were!” She flipped a photo toward Terry, and he saw their 9 year-old faces staring back at him. Maggie is missing two front teeth, and he has a slight tan from spending too much time outside in the sun. Their arms are around each other, and they are both wearing cheap, black polyester magician’s capes and holding wands. Terry is tipping a black tophat toward the camera.

“That was our first day of magic camp. Do you remember?” He asked, looking up at Maggie.

“Of course I do,” she replied. “How could I forget magic camp? I kissed you behind the stage curtain on the last day.” She kept his gaze, and let out a lilting giggle. “The other boys made fun of you because you couldn’t stop blushing when we walked back to our group.” 

Terry ran his hands through his hair nervously, “I was nine… and you were pretty,” he cleared his throat, “ARE pretty.”

Maggie smiled, “Well, thank you. You’re still quite dashing yourself. And you’ve gotten way better at drawing on your eyebrows.” She chuckled.

He raised said eyebrows and let out a laugh. “Lots of YouTube tutorials,” he admitted. 

“So, what time is dinner?” Maggie asked.

“Mom and Howard usually eat around 6:30, so I guess then,” he said with disdain.

“Howard? Like Howie, Howard?” Maggie questioned, one eyebrow raised curiously.

“It’s a long, horrifying story,” Terry said, a small shiver running down his spine.

“Well, it’s only-”, Maggie looked down at her vintage Mickey Mouse watch, “3:00, so I think you have time to tell me.” 

“Oh, uh, I thought you had work to do?” He asked.

Maggie shrugged, “Yeah, but it can wait. Terry the Terrific is here, and I heard he charges by the hour, so I want to get my money’s worth.” She beamed at him, lightly punching his arm.

“You make me sound like a stripper,” he replied, his forehead wrinkling ever so slightly.

Maggie laughed, and linked her arm through his, dragging him back down the stairs. 

“You want a drink, Terry?” Maggie asked, heading toward the kitchen.

“Yes, that would be great, actually,” he admitted, pulling a chair out and taking a seat at the small eat-in dining table. "It's been a weird couple of days. Whatever you’re having is fine.”

Maggie grabbed the gin from the cabinet above the refrigerator, along with a bottle of tonic water. “I’m outta limes, hope you don’t mind.”

“Not a lime guy anyway,” Terry replied.

Maggie finished up making their drinks and sat at the chair opposite Terry. “So, what’s this horrific story you have to tell me?”

Terry wrapped his fingers around his drink and downed it in one go, “Howard is fucking my mom.”

Maggie choked on the sip she had just taken, “Oh fuck, I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.”

“Yep, there’s even BDSM shit in ‘their’ bedroom. I was processing that information earlier on the curb. My best friend has carnal knowledge of my mother. I mean, I heard them through the wall the other night,” Terry shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, messing up the product a bit.

“I think you need another,” Maggie said, gesturing to his empty glass.

“Sure, thanks,” he replied.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep a straight face at dinner later,” Maggie said over her shoulder, stirring his drink. “I’ll do my best for you though.”

“Thanks,” Terry replied, grabbing the drink from her. Their fingers brushed, and he felt goosebumps go up his arm. 

Suddenly, a cell phone started ringing in the living room. Maggie jumped up, “Oh, I’m sorry. That’s probably my parents. They check in once a day to see how it’s going. I’ll be right back.”

Terry nodded and sipped his drink, staring at the chipped Formica tabletop. He could hear Maggie in the other room talking about humidity and dolphins. He glanced at the refrigerator, and spotted several more pictures of her stuck to the surface with homemade magnets. One from junior high with her girl friends, one with her parents on a trip to Virginia Beach, and one of her in her cheerleading uniform from high school. Terry stopped short at that last picture and his chest sank. How did they go from being little magical weirdos together to completely drifting apart as the years went on? He wondered this more than he cared to admit. There was just something so enigmatic about her. She was hard to forget. Terry took the photo off of the refrigerator and examined it more closely. 

“Sorry about that! They went on a dolphin cruise today! Oh-” Maggie stopped short, seeing the picture in Terry’s hand. “Jeez, I can’t believe I tried out for cheerleading. If I could have high school to do over again, I’d do so many things differently! I definitely wouldn’t have been a cheerleader, or taken P.E. first period, or, uh, cut my bangs myself sophomore year! Would you change anything if you could go back?” 

Maybe it was the slight buzz from the drinks or the courage that comes with age, but Terry looked right at her and said, “I would have asked you out.”

Without skipping a beat, Maggie’s eyes widened slightly and she replied, “I would have said yes.”

“Liar. Maggie, we lived on two different planets in high school.”

“I’m not lying, Terry,” she replied. “I’ll prove it to you. Skip dinner tonight. I’ll make it up to Leslie another night.”

“Prove what to me?” Terry asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

“That I would have said yes to you back then," she swallows, "that I’d say yes to you now,” she said the last part quietly, eyes shifting to Terry’s to gauge his response. 

Terry felt his breath quicken, but maintained his composure. “Do you want to go out with me tonight, Maggie?”

“Yes, Terry, I’d love to,” she answered with a shy smile.

“Well, you know how I love costumes. There’s a costume karaoke thing at Birdie’s tonight. Is that up your alley? It could be fun. Wait, do you have a costume? I know Halloween isn’t for a few weeks… and we’re both adults. So maybe you don’t have one, and that’s fine-”

Maggie cut him off, “I have a costume.”

Terry’s eyebrows shot up and an excited grin spread across his dark red lips, “Perfect!” 

“What’s your costume?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m just wearing this,” he gestured to his magician’s outfit.

“Oh, good,” she replied, “we’ll kind of match.” 

“Match? What’s your costume?” he asked.

She shook her head, “Nope, uh-uh, you can’t see until tonight.”

“Let’s do this right. I’ll pick you up at 7:00.” He said, heading toward the front door.

“You know where I live,” she replied, escorting him back to the front porch, “I’ll see you later.”

Maggie shut the door behind her and let out a ginormous, shaky sigh. Holy fuck.

“Holy fuck,” Terry mouthed from her front porch, punching the air like he just won an Oscar.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Click here for Part 2.

[thebluemage]

Magic man Terry 🪄

[sexyrisky]

[suave1foru]

Good morning

[blee-bleep]

LMFAO HE'S SO FUCKING PISSED

[front-facing-pokemon]

[t3a-gh0st]

[unholypuppy]

This started as a dumb sketch, but I got carried away.

Mermaid Farmer(?) and Elliott meeting during the Dance of the Moonlight Jellies

[zeriphi]

🩷 🧡 Fresh Pretty Cure! ❤️ 💙

[sunday-bug]

Terry the Terrific - The Magic of Yearning

Part 2

Click here for Part 1.

Terry walked back into his mom’s kitchen to find Howard making a snack plate of ants on a log. 

“Hey, buddy, where ya been?” Howard asked while popping a raisin into his mouth.

“Next door,” Terry replied, keeping it vague.

“Ah, with Maggie?” Howard wiggled his eyebrows toward Terry.

“How’d you know she’s back?” Terry asked, exasperated with his old friend.

“Les mentioned that she’s coming to dinner tonight. I’m grilling ribeyes,” he answered, “you want some?” Howard gestured to the celery and peanut butter concoction.

Terry shook his head, “Let’s raincheck dinner tonight, ok?” 

“Oh, ok. You got a gig tonight?” 

“No, I’m just going out. Need some solo time,” Terry replied.

“When do you think you’ll be home?” Howard asked.

“Why?” Terry asked, staring daggers at his friend.

“Just wonderin’, ya know, I might leave a sock on the front door if you know what I mean.” He crunched into a celery stalk, peanut butter getting stuck in his mustache.

Terry stood up suddenly and spit out, “Ah, fuck. Don’t choke on a raisin, Howard. That would be a shame.” He rushed out of the room up to his childhood bedroom and laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling covered in plastic stars. A soft knock came to his door and he heard his mom’s withered voice. 

“Come in, Mom,” he replied to her. She rolled in slowly, a soft smile on her face. “Hey,” he said softly.

She rolled up next to his twin-sized bed and placed her wrinkled hand on his. “I’m glad you’re happy, Mom. If that’s with Howard, I’ll learn to deal.” She placed the brass picture frame she was holding into Terry’s hands and pointed to it. It was a photo of him and his mom when he was around twelve. She had taken him to see Penn & Teller in the city. She pointed again to the photo and then to her heart.

“I love you, too, Mom,” Terry replied quietly, wrapping her in a hug. “Hey, I asked Maggie about dinner tonight, but she’s busy, so we’ll have to try another night, ok?” His mom nodded and gave him a cheeky smile before rolling back out of his room. He laid back on his bed and looked at the ancient alarm clock on the bedside table. Nearly 4:00. He had time to take a quick nap before getting ready for the night. He wanted to shower and reapply his makeup so it stayed fresh during karaoke.

At the neighboring Victorian home, Maggie was in her makeshift bedroom, getting ready for the evening. She glanced up at the clock. 6:15. She couldn’t quite calm her pulse as she pulled the white silk gloves up her arms. She decided to call her roommate turned best friend, Ruby, to try to settle her nerves. The line rang twice before she picked up.

“Hey, Mags, how’s it going?” Her familiar voice instantly put Maggie at ease.

“Good, how are you?” She replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Fine… you good? Is Chaplin ok? You sound weird,” Ruby pressed.

“Oh, yeah, Chaplin’s fine,” she said too quickly. “Hey, can you check my nightstand and see if I left my good perfume there?” 

Maggie heard the rustling sound of Ruby walking to her apartment bedroom. 

“Yeah, it’s here,” Ruby replied. “Wait-”

“No, Ruby,” Maggie chided.

“Why do you want your sexy perfume? Did you meet someone?!” Ruby squealed on the other line.

“Um, not exactly,” Maggie replied, not able to keep the smile from reaching her voice.

“Tell me, tell me!” Her friend begged.

“Okay, remember when you and I got drunk off that cheap champagne last year and sat on the kitchen floor spilling our guts?” Maggie asked.

“A cornerstone of our friendship. How could I forget?” Ruby asked with a laugh. “I was so sick the next morning.”

“Remember me telling you-” Maggie started before Ruby stopped her short.

“TERRY! Oh my God, it’s Terry isn’t it?! ‘The one that got away’, as you put it,” Ruby shouted through the phone.

“It’s Terry,” Maggie confirmed.

“How did this happen?” Ruby prodded.

“He’s home visiting his mom. I didn’t even know if she still lived there, but yeah, she does. So, anyway, he helped me move a box today, and then I made us drinks, and long story short we’re going to a bar tonight,” Maggie admitted, the excitement rising back in her chest at the thought.

“Get it, Margaret!” Ruby exclaimed. “You HAVE to call me tomorrow and tell me how it goes.”

“You know I will,” Maggie replied, “Love you, Rube. And don’t call me Margaret.”

“Love you too, byeee!” Ruby ended the call, and Maggie laid her phone down on the vanity top. 

Terry finished the last perfect swipe of his left eyebrow and looked intently into the mirror. He had to admit, he was looking forward to his evening with Maggie, but he still had so many questions for her about why they drifted apart. Sure, they were kids, but he found it hard to set aside years of her basically pretending that she didn’t know him, and then there was the night before she left for college. Peer pressure is a hell of a drug, and he knew he didn’t fit in with her crowd back then, but they were adults now. Maybe she’d had a change of heart. He was determined to find out more tonight. Straightening his bow tie, he headed to go pick her up.

Maggie tried sitting on the couch, but she couldn’t relax, so she just started pacing around the first level of the house. She caught a glimpse of herself in the foyer mirror and checked her teeth for lipstick. All clear. As she looked down at her watch, noting the time, 6:59pm, the doorbell rang. She didn’t want to seem too eager so she just stood there like a frozen Sim for 10 seconds before answering the door.

Terry felt his breath catch in his chest at the sight of Maggie’s costume. He swallowed, doing his best to keep his eyes somewhere respectful - anywhere but on her upper thighs encased in black fishnets.

“Ta-da! I’m Zatanna!” She said cheerily, waving her hand from her tophat to her leather boots.

The sides of Terry’s lips turned up in recognition and he snapped his fingers, “Ah, that’s it. Zatanna. I get why you said we’d match now. Very clever. You look great. You ready?” He pointed over his shoulder. “My mom’s letting me borrow her car.”

Maggie saw the 90’s Buick complete with wood paneling idling in the street. “My chariot awaits,” she giggled.

The drive to Birdie’s Lounge was short, and they were able to find a parking spot quickly. Maggie pulled her jacket closer to her body, warding off the slight chill in the early October air. Terry opened the door to the bar for her, and she walked in, enjoying the warmer atmosphere. 

“I’ll get us drinks if you want to find a booth,” he said, gesturing to the wall of dark wooden nooks complete with dark red velvet cushions. 

“Sure, um, I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Maggie replied, and started making her way to the nook closest to the karaoke stage. She’d never been in here before, and wondered if Terry had. After high school, she left for college in Boston, and hadn’t been back since. 

Terry walked back to their booth, two old-fashioneds in hand. Maggie noticed the veins in his hands for the first time and wondered if they’d always looked like that, and if so, how she’d ignored them before. Watching him set her drink down made her neck flush.

“Thank you,” she said, taking a sip. 

The bartender walked over with a small bowl of cherries and placed them on the table.

“Thanks,” Terry smiled at him.

“Ooh, I love cherries,” Maggie exclaimed, picking one up by the stem. Terry’s eyes widened slightly as she put the cherry in her mouth and bit it off the stem. He shifted slightly in his seat and cleared his throat.

“It should fill up here soon,” he gestured to the half-empty karaoke lounge.

“Have you been here before?” Maggie inquired, popping one more cherry into her mouth. Terry noticed how it was nearly the same shade as her lipstick.

“Um, yeah, a few times with Howard. We did karaoke once, and I actually had fun with it.”

“You could always sing,” Maggie replied, smiling at him. “Do you have a go-to song?” 

“Nah, I just pick whatever feels right at the moment,” he says. “Do you know what you’re going to sing?” 

Maggie scoffed, “I’m not going to sing anything! I’m here for moral support and the costume contest.” 

“Oooh, that’s where you’re wrong, Maggie Jean,” he said, lightly chuckling, “I already signed you up at the bar.” He shrugged sarcastically. “No take-backs, darlin’, sorry.”

“You middle-named me, you punk!” she huffed out. 

“I know you can sing. I’ve heard you sing before. You have a nice voice,” Terry replied, trying to cushion the surprise.

Maggie smiled at him devilishly, “Okay, Terry, you want me to sing? I’ll sing. Just remember that you asked for it.” 

They had another round of drinks to build up their liquid courage. Terry was right, the lounge was almost completely full. 

“Maggie, can I ask you something?” Terry traced a finger through the sweat dripping down his glass.

“Yes,” she muttered, noticing his serious gaze.

“Why-” His question was cut off by feedback from the microphone.

One of the bar staff spoke to the room, “Okay, folks, we’re going to get started with karaoke! There is a list in the corner of the screen here of who is on deck, so be ready and have fun! Looks like our first up is Gene W. Also, if you’re participating in the costume contest, go see Sam at the bar for a ticket.”

Terry pulled two tickets from what looked like thin air, “Already done.”

“Like a true magician,” Maggie replied, impressed.

The first singer stepped onstage, and the familiar tune of Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen began to play. Maggie looked at Terry, realizing that is exactly how she would describe his current gaze as she put another cherry between her lips. “Do you want one?” She asked, offering the tiny fruit to him. 

“Sure,” he replied, reaching up to grab it from her, but her arm moved past his to his mouth. “Open,” she said in a sultry tone. He obeyed and let her put the cherry between his teeth, her thumb brushing his bottom lip.

“So, you were going to ask me something?” Maggie pressed, putting her arms on the tabletop, safely away from Terry’s mouth.

Terry chewed the cherry thoughtfully, considering whether or not now was a good time to breach the topic of the past after all. They were clearly having fun and flirting a bit, and he didn’t want to harsh their buzz. He made up a new question on the fly, “Oh, I just wanted to know why you decided to steal my lipstick shade. It’s my signature.” Terry gestured to his painted lips and laughed.

“MAC D for Danger?!” Maggie exclaimed. “I’m so sorry, Terry. How could I?!” She pretended to feel awful.

“Oh, it’s not the same anyway,” he replied, shrugging it off. “I think mine is called Sin.”

“Oh, hey, I actually have that one,” Maggie giggled. “It probably looks similar to this shade on me because your lips are pinker than mine.” 

Terry looked down and smiled secretly, wondering how many times she’s looked at his lips to memorize the color.

Maggie started cheering for the singer onstage that just finished Hungry Eyes before looking at the on-deck list. Her eyes widened. “Terry, after this next singer it’s me. Not only did you sign me up, but you’re making me go first. You little shit!” 

“Ladies first,” he chuckled, finishing the rest of his drink.

“Ever the gentleman,” Maggied rolled her eyes playfully. “Well, if I’m almost up, I need a shot. You want one? I think I’m getting tequila.”

Terry leaned back into the booth and stretched his arms out to the sides, “Yes, but-”

“No lime, I got you,” Maggie winked at him and hurried off to the bar to order their shots.

While Maggie was waiting at the bar, Terry checked his phone and noticed a text from Howard.

[Sorry about the sock joke earlier. Have a good night man.]

He shook his head, blowing out a long breath. When he looked up from his phone, a clearly inebriated man sat across from him dressed in a Captain America costume. Terry could smell the beer on his breath from across the table.

“Hey, bro, is the magician chick your girl?” Captain America gestured to where Maggie was leaning over the bar, talking to the bartender. Terry contemplated telling him the truth, and saying no, that she wasn’t more than a friend, but the way this frat douche was looking at her made Terry’s jaw clench and his hands ball into fists.

Terry started, “Um-”

“Um means no, dude,” the drunken male replied lazily with a chuckle.

Terry snapped internally, “Get out of our booth. Don’t look at her. She is mine, has been for years. Now go.” 

“Woah, bro, alright. She’s hot. You’re lucky. I’ll let you two be,” Captain America removed himself sloppily from the booth and headed back over to his friends. Terry glared daggers at him until he was fully seated and stopped staring at Maggie across the way. She was making her way back to him with two tiny shot glasses of clear liquid, one without lime. She set that one in front of Terry, and the other on her side.

“Cheers?” She said, picking up her glass and knocking it against his. They both downed the burning liquid, her sucking on the lime after. “Ooh, tequila makes me warm.” She wriggled her body animatedly, and Terry laughed.

“You should have some water after you sing,” Terry suggested. “I don’t want you to feel sick in the morning.” 

“Are you going to come take care of me if I’m hungover?” Maggie asked, sliding her shot glass to the edge of the table. Terry copied her, lining up their empty glasses.

“I’m trying to make sure you don’t have a hangover, smartass. Also, I think you should head backstage to get ready. You’re up,” Terry pointed to the on-deck board, where Maggie saw her name flashing. She stood up from the booth quickly, “Oh, I’m starting to feel it.”

“Be careful in those heels, Mags,” Terry said, putting his hands on her waist to steady her. “You sure you’re good?” She put her hands over his.

“I like your hands,” she said breathily, staring down at where he held her. “I’m gonna go sing for you now.” She sauntered off toward the stage, leaving Terry staring down at his own hands, feeling the goosebumps where she’d touched him. The last karaoker walked off stage, and Terry saw Maggie peek through the curtain. The bar staff announced, “Next up, Maggie!”

Maggie emerged from the curtains, and cradled the microphone stand between her hands. A simple drum beat that Terry didn’t recognize started through the speakers, and Maggie began to sing, “Drowning in the Blue Nile, he sent me ‘Downtown Lights’…” Her voice sounded so breathy, and more mature that Terry remembered from the last time he’d heard her sing. It was… sexy, quite frankly. Maggie moved her hips with the beat of the music and continued singing. He wished he knew the song, but couldn’t place it. Maggie was looking around the crowd while she sang, and Captain America’s table seemed extra into her performance. Terry huffed out a breath and trained his focus back to Maggie as she looked right at him and sang, “What if he’s written mine on my upper thigh only in my mind?” She grazed her upper thigh as she sang the lyrics, and Terry felt his legs heat up.

Maggie continued with the Taylor Swift song, swaying with the music, looking around at the rapt audience, and occasionally making eyes at Terry when she wanted him to feel a particular lyric. Sure, she was tipsy, but she picked this song for a reason. Sometimes music can say the hard stuff for you. She closed her eyes as she sang, “These fatal fantasies, giving way to labored breath,” before opening them and gazing at Terry again, “Taking all of me, we’ve already done it in my head.” 

Terry adjusted his sitting position at the last lyric, one eyebrow raised in shock. She did say she was going to sing for him, he remembered. His heart rate was slowly increasing with each lyric and sway of Maggie’s hips, fishnets coating her perfect thighs. He wanted to tear into them. As he was fantasizing about that, the music came to an end, and Maggie took a bow before exiting the stage. Captain America and all his friends were cheering and whistling after her.

Maggie came around the corner of the booth and took a seat across from Terry, “I told you… You asked for it.” 

“That was, uh, that was…” Terry tried to find the right words.

“It’s your turn, T,” she said, putting him out of his misery. She knew she’d had an effect on him.

Terry got up and started toward the stage. Confused about what to sing, he ran his hands through his hair, trying to think. If she wanted to play games, he could play them right back. He told the bar staff what he wanted and thankfully they had it. “Okay, everyone, here’s Terry!” 

The announcer walked off the stage, and the music began. Maggie could tell Terry was nervous, which surprised her because he performed for people for a living. She tried to catch his eye in an attempt to calm his nerves, but he wouldn’t look at her. He began to sing, “Do you think I care about your new job and your new hair? Do you think I cry ‘bout your new friends and your new guy? Well I do.” The music picked up with some guitar. Maggie swallowed, relishing the sound of gravel in his voice. He sounded older and sexier than she remembered. Everything about him was like a fine wine. As he kept singing, she could hear something in his voice that sounded like pain, and listened more closely to the lyrics, “Wait, in line, ‘cause you’re not alone, no, you’re mine. I bet you never take your time, all you do is scratch and bite. Was I just a waste of time?” The last lyric hit her right in the chest. This was to her. He was singing to her. He was pouring his heart out to her. She felt a small wave of nausea at the fact that he ever thought that she thought he was a waste of her time.

Terry takes a small bow and exits the stage, heading back to the booth.

“Terry, can we go somewhere and talk?” Maggie asked softly as he sat back down. She could feel tears starting to well in her eyes.

“Sure,” he replied. “Let’s go.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Maggie’s song:

Terry’s song:

[thebluemage]

[strawbunnydoesart]

"Setsuna!~💖"

Guys Im normal about them I swear

PROGRAM USED: Procreate

TRACKED TIME: 6h 59m

[suave1foru]

Just us

[heroes-of-lemuria]

‘Eyes’ are one of the more common magic eating species found throughout the Spiral. Though mostly solitary, large flocks do congregate around areas of heavily concentrated magic, a property that has aided in the mapping of Leylines.

Different species of Eye feed on different forms of magic, each shaped by the type they consume. Most wizards have experienced one following them around at one point or another; they’re loyal pets to some and nuisances to others.

Eyes tendency to follow outbreaks of magic has led to much superstition and folklore surrounding them, especially the death variety.

[merakiui]

mera!

i heard you’re back into azul after the skully take over!

i have an azul magical girl thought i thought you’d like hehe >:)

hear me out..

azul x darling in place of kuro sensi and irina in the shed scene… HEHEHE azul’s tentacles sprouting out of no where and latching into darling and massaging her out of no where! oh no!

maybe it’s magical girl darling who’s pulled into the school’s supply shed in gym in a surprise attack!!

maybe he’s apologizing profusely telling darling how he can’t control it (if he’s unmasked) when he knows full well that he’s mastered control of his other limbs at the ripe age of 3 under the sea.

or if he’s masked up, his tentacles sliding under her pretty hero costume as he mockingly comments how tense she is. “of course she is with his tentacles poking and prodding her everywhere!!

https://youtu.be/IhlkokQHaxU?si=s1kpez0sCx_jcYGn

(scene in question in case you haven’t seen assassination classroom, HIGHLY RECOMMEND)

maybe they go further than azul mischievous tentacles intensely massaging her back and shoulders and they decided (“on their own” he says in a tizzy) that she needs a more thorough massage then before and know just the spot to hit.

one time when in vacay i was trying to get a massage but i fell asleep on the beach hours before and got sun poisoning 😣😣 hope darling’s massage goes well lol!!

loved the skully posts 💕

- phantom anon

AAAAAAA ASSASSINATION CLASSROOM MENTION IN 2024?!?!?!??! I LOVED THAT ANIME SO MUCH WHEN IT WAS AIRING WAAAAA!!!!! Floyb's VA actually voices Karma,,, hehehe. Do with that information as you please (assassin Floyb and koro-sensei tako...... do you see the vision!!!!)

Omg the shed scene....... after the recent manga update I am even more insane about his tentacles. OTL villain tako giving his magical girl a massage that is borderline erotic.......... waaaa powerless in his grasp, so all you can do is grit your teeth and try not to moan because WOW he is surprisingly good at easing the tension in your shoulders and rubbing out any knots in your back...... and ohhh where is that one tentacle going,,, the one prodding between your thighs!!! >_< you'd call him a pervert if you could get the word out, but all that really slips out are gasps and little breathy moans,,, and Azul just insists he has no control over this!!! Really, he'd stop this at once if he could (lie)!!

Hitting that perfect spot inside you and you're trying to threaten him (you'll cook each of those tentacles of his into takoyaki, you swear!!!!), but the tentacle pistoning in and out of you is melting all coherent thoughts.... massage so good both inside and outside that you're stumbling out of the supply shed in a daze,, sucker marks printed all over your body. 👁 👁 next time you see that stupid villain you're killing him dead!!!! >:( (or maybe not... that "massage" keeps you up at night with all kinds of thoughts. <3)