#Caro calling the shots seems to make more sense for them any way

[amarrymeinbostonwriter]

Perhaps I am wrong, but after reading Lord M’s biography (The David Cecil one) because he was so passive, he was kind of a submissive type of guy???

I mean, I cannot imagine being described as being that passive and being able to take on Caro, Ms. Norton or The Queen and be in control of those relationships. These ladies were all forces of nature.

Usually loud, bold women (usually assumed dominant) attract quieter, shier men (assumed submissive). At least in my personal experience this seems true, though not always... (yikes). 

Just some of the ways that Cecil described Caro’s and Lord M’s relationship really hit it home for me. For a while, he pretty much would let her get away with anything short of murder because he loved her that much. She was able to convince him to stay with her while his family was pressuring him to lock her up or throw her out of their house. He did neither. Even after the affair she had with Byron (which wasn’t the only affair for any of the parties involved). 

So Lord M was in Caro’s power not the other way around- at least that’s what it seemed like. It seemed especially unusual considering they lived in a time where power was very much skewed in a man’s favor. If he was domineering, he had plenty of times to prove it but he seemed to always do nothing. 

That kind seemed his default reaction whenever anything happened actually, which is decidedly less romantic when you think about it. Like he didn’t seem to do very much politically- in most cases he was telling people not to do things or to wait and they ignored him and did whatever they wanted. That’s probably why he’s not the most famous of England’s PMs. I mean, Victoria introduced him to me. I took an English History class at Uni and they did not mention Lord M at all. But my professor also hated Queen Victoria so I think he might have rushed her reign a bit. :/  

But I digress, this was more reading for researching for my WIP series. Even though it’s AU I still want a lot of the characters to feel like the real figures they are based on. So WIP features a young lovestruck William Lamb, who is probably a bit too sensitive to be a vampire hunter but he is one any way. He is mad about his vampire wife, Lady Caroline Lamb. No doubt, you can already guess who calls the shots in this relationship. Hint: It’s not him. 

#sorry my mind is a bit of a dumpster #an educated dumpster but still #there is just no way that he was the one calling the shots in that relationship #Caro calling the shots seems to make more sense for them any way #my version of Lamb might do too much in the novel #He's one of the main characters and he does not indulge in doing nothing very much #sorry I thought about this way too long #but I also kind of like that idea that he's very doting and sweet on her #even if she's kind of all over the place and a vampire ha #researching #Lord M #Lord Melbourne #William Lamb #WIP mention #lady caroline lamb #vampires #vampire hunter #alternate universe #history #yeah I'm weird I know #writeblr #19th century #book review sort of #rant #spiral speaks #sorry but he enjoys serving- I'll just leave now

[jiilys]

would u help me out for a second. im in the mood to write for the first time, and i think your style is beautiful. sitting down n actually trying though, im stuck as fuck! i’m realizing that in your dialogue/scenes you’ve got a lot of Little Things. little tiny elements that are subtle & just enough. how are you deciding that lily is building a house of cards at the moment or sirius is sitting in a tree or whatever during a given scene? how do you come up with those ideas for dialogue that are so silly & real & sneakily tender? do you know where it’s going when you begin? any advice for just… starting something?

ps: i appreciate you. you make it look easy & that’s very very cool

This is a lovely question!! Sorry it took me so long to get to it, I didn’t want to get it wrong. Also I’ve included some examples to try and explain what I mean in practise, but it also comes off rather like plugging. tragically this is unavoidable. Anyway, all that being said I have no idea how to advise you about dialogue and coming up with it, I think just listening to people talk helps. Don’t forget contractions, and when in doubt always trust the reader to keep up, real people don’t say perfect or even grammatically correct sentences a lot of the time. We also cut each other off all the time, especially when we’re trying to be funny. Like, here’s an example from warm front:

“He’s not even two. He probably would have thought it was, like, having a lie down or something.”

Harry was laughing now, “A lie down?”

“Yeah, a spontaneous, truck-induced–“

“–Permanent–“ “

–Permanent, lie-down. I’m almost jealous now actually.”

Another thing, but people say um and like or can't speak or cut themselves off, especially when they’re nervous. James when Lily says she loves him for the first time: ‘“Wow,” He breathed, “I’m– wow.” He put both hands on her cheeks and kissed her crazy, abruptly, dumbly. Her head spun.’ He can’t even speak! Dumb boy.

I think natural dialogue sometimes just requires you to read it aloud, which is very embarrassing but ultimately quite useful in trying to figure out whether something sounds normal or not. Use casual words, and try not to go dictionary hunting: if you cant think of the word chances are your character can’t either

In terms of concepts I have no idea, but I do have a few tips. I write all my short one-shots in one document (its called ‘just bad’ lmao) so its easy to start something, write a few lines, and then if it doesnt work just start a new concept, but still have all the old stuff handy. if you feel like you’ve written yourself into a corner its probably because you took a wrong turn earlier, so its just a matter of going back up and figuring out where you turned onto the dead end, or where a line could be funnier and/or sadder and/or more meaningful. Sometimes the bare bones of a decent line is there but you have to work it a little.

In this harry/ginny thing where harry is apologising for all the attention and ginny brushes him off she says:

“It’s nothing,” her voice, all force, “Anyway, it’s more funny than annoying.”

The response went through a few drafts, all variations on the same thing:

(1) “You’re funnier.” [too short, doesn’t make sense, and not really that funny. unholy trinity]

(2) “You make it funny.” Harry said, looking at her for real, “It’s not– you make it like that.” [this could work! I have no idea why I cut this, I think I forgot abt it lmao]

(3) “You’re the funniest person I know, Harry said, sincerely, and Ginny felt her heartbeat all through her, “You make it funny.” [jumping from ‘its more funny than annoying’ to getting this sincere out of nowhere is a little much, even for harry who is famously whipped]

I ended up going with this:

“It’s nothing,” her voice, all force, “Anyway, it’s more funny than annoying.”

“You’re funny.” Harry said, looking at her for real, flustered, “I mean– you make it funny. That’s all you.”

It follows the flow of the conversation and I think the way he says it, ‘you’re funny’ like its obvious, and then being like oh fuck and over-explaining it stumbling a little “I mean– you make it funny. That’s all you.”. You know when you like someone and you say something that gives you away before you can stop yourself? I wanted it to sound like that. Just gotta keep in mind how people behave, we are so stupid a lot of the time, we give ourselves away.

The thing about short stuff i find is implying a lot of history without actually describing a lot of it. I normally do this by having memories come up as almost shards, one second of feeling. You know when you’re in a conversation with someone and they mention someone or a past event, and it rises to the top of your brain, but only for a second? i find sometimes when you’re reading stuff people will try and replay entire memories or events mid-conversation, which is not something you do when you think. You don’t need to replay it beat by beat, you were there! This sounds vague as hell so I’ll try and show you what I mean:

From good crimes: “Petunia is engaged.” Lily’s voice, raw and wrong, “To Vernon. Eliza Hunt told me at the supermarket.” Sudden flashes of Petunia, the only time he’d ever met her, sat in the back of Lily’s twenty-first, pinched and whispering. “Whose Eliza Hunt?” This seems as good a thing to say as any.

pretty on the nose (the phrase ‘sudden flashes’ is pretty so i'll allow it from past me). But see how you don’t need to know how Petunia didnt talk to anyone, how she left early, how she was the odd one out: you don’t need to read all that, you already know because she was sat in the back and because pinched is such a mean verb, spiteful and sharp, you can already imagine how the evening went without me saying so

From my proposal take, after Sirius finds out they’re engaged: Sirius’ grip on his shoulder tightened for one second, still grinning, and James knew what he meant. “I know.” He said, because only Sirius had been there for all of it, when they were fifteen, drunk on Firewhiskey for the first time and James had said I think I’ve fucked it, I think I’ve fucked it but I like her for real.

you don’t need a description of the whole night, what party they were at, who they were with, what they were talking about: the important bit is that Sirius was the first person he told, and that they’re both remembering that at the same moment because they’re soulmates lmao. You know when something big happens for a friend and you feel so full of pride & love that you feel like you’ll burst into confetti?? this needed to feel like that, and you only need a flash for it

I feel like I’ve sort of strayed off from what you asked me, which is really advice on how to start something. I normally start with a line, usually of dialogue, and then try and build from there because dialogue is my thing. You might have a different thing! Some people write from concepts or locations, or an image. i might start with one or a few lines of dialogue, write them down, and then try to build from there. For example for the proposal thing I started from james just saying “Marry me”, which I find more romantic than ‘will you marry me’, purely because it sounds like he simply couldn’t stop himself from saying it, like it rushed out. Another example, this thing started from just “don’t be mad at me” “okay” James agreed instantly, because he is such a sucker for her.

When I write I don’t normally know where I’m going! I normally set out to write something I think is vaguely funny and evokes An Emotion, and then I just play around with stuff until I get there. when I write certain stuff and I have scenes in mind, stuff I want to happen, but I find that if I try to plot it to tightly its not exciting to work on, because sometimes you write a good line by accident, that you hadn’t thought of when you sat down, and you surprise yourself. That is a really nice feeling! i want to maximise that feeling.

'What I mostly try to remember is that writing something down, anything down, is useful. Sometimes you write for a whole night and dont get anything useable, but its like clearing pipes. Sometimes you have to flush through shit to get to the good bits. All the rough stuff, the things you don’t like or didn’t work, you wrote to get you to the stuff that did work. All of the bad shit got you here! It wasn’t a waste, you were working to find the good thing

If I had any tips its just the usual stuff, read! It is annoying how much that helps. Also, and I know this may make you shudder, but reading poetry is useful just because in no other literary or media form is language so important. In comics you have pictures, in novels you have plot and character, in film you all that and cinematography, but in poetry you live and die by how good the words are. If you want recs here’s my poem roundup tag, that I do sometimes, or if you want something just now read this by Anne Carson, which uses words like ‘smashing’, ‘boatwash’, and ‘green’ in the best way possible. Also it has these lines: “Recently having learned to recognize the type of tree called sycamore, / I see them in any forest— / the ones that look harrowed, / in shreds, but / go also / straight up into life,”

I mean, think of a sharper image than that?? It’s not possible. Just try remember to stay true to your characters and that in real life, the little stuff is the big stuff. Little things the people around you do normally show they care more than big speeches, and if you want to show love that’s how to make it feel lived in. You want to build a world! the little stuff is usually the world. Take some from your own or dream the ones you wish you had.

This truly was a very kind message and I’m so grateful you like my stuff, I hope any of this was even half-useful, although now reading it back it is borderline nonsensical. I’m going to bed now, good luck with the writing, and don’t forget to send it to me!!

caro xoxo

#writing bitching #said it already but loved this message it was so thoughtful. seemed pretty articulate to me i think ur writing is gunna be just fine!!! #rooting for you & anyone trying to write something rn. words suck and are difficult! they are also better than drugs & sex. regretable #kindnesses

[sugar-petals]

boyfriend bot (m)

↳ Not made of flesh nor blood. But made to treat you right. 

↳ PAIRING ⇁ baekyhun x reader

↳ STATS ⇁ one shot | sci-fi + domestic au

↳ WORDS ⇁ 29k

↳ WARNINGS ⇁ slow burn, the yearning™, eventual smut, light angst, making out, fingering, blowjobs, vaginal penetration, baekhyun can expand his dick what about it, cock warming, messy sex, artificial semen, giving orders + name-calling (bbh receiving), cum play, throatpies, wet panties all the way, masturbation, switching & dom!reader undertones but more vanilla > kink, french kissing, baek is a gentleman, cuddles

↳ ♡ Caro’s Note ✏︎ mmh i love seeing reader get her life turned upside down. features ten chapters. please indulge. ✍️

Chapter 1: The Capsule

God, the sting is back. Your left foot starts hurting like absolute hell. Out of all possible moments and places.

The vaguely polite smile on your face drops to a stifled expression, but Mr. Kim — on top of being just as oblivious as you expected a man of his job to be — is too preoccupied to notice.

„Our faculty is quite large,“ he says, gazing over the diagrams on his tablet pc. „We require a lot of spare room to test the robots.“

You exhale. Trying to focus on the diagrams, whatever they might mean. It’s mostly obscure, floating animations in green and yellow. Actually — very much unlike the faculty itself which is white, stark, and sterile. And yes. Too large for its own fucking good.

Just keep on walking, you tell yourself, you’ll be there soon. You’ll see Baekhyun in just a minute, okay.

Besides Mr. Kim, whoever works here has got to be a raging part-time athlete. Crossing all the plain white corridors feels like jogging right through a football field.

If you walk down any more of those, you’ll actually be out of breath. On top of limping like a stork in a puddle of half-dry mud. All accompanied by the squeaking of Mr. Kim’s obnoxious white crocs that seem to mock you with every step.

You spend too much time inside.

But who these days trains for a marathon like this.

Another deep exhale. Focus, focus, focus. You try to keep the conversation smooth.

„That’s reasonable. How long does it take to run such a test?“

„Really depends on the model,“ Mr. Kim hums, now diverting his eyes from his device to meet yours. „Prototypes take three, even four years to manufacture, trial, and refine. It is rocket science.“

Your foot is kind enough not to send another spike of pain through your legs so your face looks neutral at best.

„Four years. Quite a long time.“

Around just as long as you’ve been the single pringle of the neighborhood if you count up the months. Now that’s funny. You still feel pathetic showing up here, either way.

But since you already paid and walked what feels like three miles, there’s no going back.

Mr. Kim stuffs the tablet into his pocket now, then interlaces his fingers, making him reminiscent of some kind of ancient Roman oratory figure with his long white lab coat on.

„It is. The models that you can customize do several test runs over the course of two weeks, on the other hand.“

„Wow, that’s actually pretty fast, then.“

You’re genuinely surprised. That the faculty is professional to a fault, however, isn’t shocking. The reviews of their products are nothing but positive. Five stars are plastered all over the edgy customer feedback section on the company website. Accordingly, your purchase is worth more than five saved monthly salaries which torments you more than your damn foot.

Mr. Kim cocks his head a little.

„Technically, yes,“ he says. „However, every custom bot has once been a prototype. All the important safety tests have been conducted.“

You raise your brows. If you did the math correctly, it’s 3 to 4 years development stage plus two weeks of customizing and tests. That makes sense.

You’re surprised your brain can register as much. Now that it’s been ten minutes of walking or even a bit longer, who knows the time works differently in this bitch of a building, the corridor is giving your Achilles’ heel a hard time again with another endlessly long passage.

Doors upon doors, one more mysteriously labeled than the other, pop up right and left. ‚CASTS AND SCULPTURE‘ says one entrance. ‚LINGUISTIC DEVELOPMENT‘ another. From another corner, a whirring noise keeps on disrupting the silence of the hallway.  

What else can you do but try to slow down the pace without it being too discernable. It’ll pass in no time, you tell yourself, don’t be a bother. You won’t have some breakdown in here and ask for a glass of water or whatever. It’s already embarrassing enough to do all of this.

If you act up, they might consider you unsuitable to take the bot home. There are no opportunities to sit down anyway. Mr. Kim is far too awkward to talk about anything else but technical details. They probably don’t even have cardboard cups and mineral water in here, at least not in the radius of the sensitive equipments.

It really is a rocket science place.

Figures, this is a place for robots, not humans. The receptionist of the faculty himself had been a bot already. Sleek, poised, and polite. Interestingly, with a slight resemblance to Mr. Kim.

You chew on your bottom lip to distract yourself, walk on. Trying to come up with questions seems to be the best way to distract yourself at this point.

„Do… you also quiz the robots for conversation like that?“

It sounds like an outlandish thing to say to such a high-ranking scientist, but with the pain in your leg, it’s all too easy to forget about tone. The corridor becomes longer with every step and the neon lights above don’t help. Maybe you only hallucinate all of this. Mr. Kim sounds as factual and courteous as ever.

„Of course. We simulate every possible life situation you can think of. He can play sports with you, talk about modern art, cook Spaghetti, iron clothes, send you a text message, point out star constellations.“

„Really?“

Your heart beats even faster than it already does. Not that you’d ever need your robot to do push-ups or teach you cross-training. But Mr. Kim very much sounds like he’s confident the android will keep all its lofty claims. It’s a promise that raises your mood a lot more than you thought. All the details on the website you’ve read about three times already, but hearing them confirmed is still exciting.

„Even if a client customizes a model,“ he pulls out the device from his pocket again, then points to several other red graphs on the tablet. „The base programming allows for a variety of actions already.“

None of the data he shows you instantly rings a bell. It looks far too advanced. But it’s a no-brainer to you, someone like Mr. Kim lives in a bubble of bot speak.

As far as you understand it, what he means is that all robots have long been ‚finished‘. Customizing only adds a few features. A final, very personalized touch.

„Um— And my bot is able to learn, right?“

„That is one of the most important features,“ Mr. Kim fiercely nods his head. So that struck a chord. „Baekhyun is a leisure model, but you’ll notice that he asks a lot of questions.“

„What type of questions?“

„Well… Think of it as if a child with a rational mind gets to know the world. Very rapidly rather than naively. And, he constantly updates what your preferences are.“

„Right.“

The prospect of finally meeting him lets the pain in your leg fade off at least a little.

Baekhyun.

Only eight letters in an online form until this very moment. But soon, someone very real before your eyes. It’s an overwhelming thought, but your impatience is stronger than that. Now you really want to see him.

The corridor, thankfully, ends in a few feet anyways. Your knees are getting wobbly by the minute.

„Is he able to reach conclusions on his own?“ you ask, hands stuffed into the side pockets of your black jeans. Your pulse is still increasing. Mr. Kim’s friendly face becomes even friendlier with the smile that now stretches wide across.

„Conclusions— I would describe him as logical, but with a strong ethical twist. He’s a leisure model, after all.“

That sounds like a fancy way of saying ‚yes‘. Or, in a way, a hook to assure a new client that it was money well spent and not wasted on some hoax.

It’s not like you don’t trust the countless ‚I got a leisure bot and this is how we live’ client videos you saw online.

Even the most amateur vloggers seemed to be wildly in love with their models. Kissing and hugging them all over the place, playing games together and whatnot.

„You know, I had the honor of overseeing his tests last week,“ Mr. Kim continues. „Baekhyun’s sense of wit is so astounding, even our chief robotics officer was surprised. And he works in the department since 1995. That’s almost 40 years of experience here.“

You have to smile to yourself now, too. In the ‚select personality’ section on the customization website, your particular wish was to make Baekhyun sharp. Maybe this could turn out as interesting as you pictured it would be.

„We took a little longer with it. But I believe Baekhyun is among one of the best customizations this month,“ Mr. Kim now stops and draws out a key card. „Especially— in terms of how you helped us design his looks and theme. Most client requests we get want some kind of he-man. They only spend twenty minutes customizing their bot on the website, if not less.“

Mr. Kim pulls a frustrated face recalling that. In the meantime, you try to keep your legs straight as good as possible. It’s probably been a few years since you’ve been legitimately nervous like that and it catches you off guard. This is like a final exam. After a brief attempt to fix your hair, you shove your hands into your pockets a little deeper.

„Hm, I see?“

It must have been getting vastly boring in the lab judging by how he talks himself into a frenzy about the project. Although well, if he wouldn’t, you’d be a little worried. This is the type of job where you have to geek out. Mr. Kim seems to be the right kind of guy in his profession, you can’t deny that.

You take a deep breath now — hoping they didn’t go too far with their experiments once they got the rare opportunity to do so.

Mr. Kim pushes his brunette hair back. You can tell he’s getting a little tense himself. He disables the tablet PC using a sleek button on its side and clamps the device under his left armpit.

„You spent almost four hours selecting all the extended details,“ he says. „That helps us a lot. Baekhyun quickly developed into our favorite project to work on. He’s a very self-aware and attentive android.“

You nod, absent-minded already. What matters is that you finally reached the end of the fucking corridor. And just how high your level of adrenaline has been rising. It feels like a gyro drop at full throttle.

You murmur a small thank you and watch Mr. Kim swipe his card through the chunky white, bleeping doorknob. A green light appears from above the door and it scoots open.

„Over there,“ he brings his left hand forward, ushering you inside.

In the middle of the dome-like room before you is a platform sporting an adjustable mechanical frame. Chrome, light aluminum, something of that kind. A terribly odd construction, but almost mundane for a faculty of this caliber. Everything smells painstakingly sterile.

There are similar set-ups you’ve seen in the hospital you got your appendix removed in last spring. Whether that’s a good sign or not you can’t tell over the buzzing inside of your head. This shit has you way too clamped up in the stomach.

You try to focus on observing as good as you can. Back to the here and now.

The frame holds a shiny grey capsule reminiscent of a cocoon. Mr. Kim steps forth toward the pod and swipes across its surface with a gentle right hand. That triggers a series of mechanisms at the back of the capsule, causing it to gain opacity.

Within seconds, a quirky silhouette with elegant limbs appears inside the cocoon. Your hands tremble even more. This is the moment you downed three large fucking cups of coffee for this morning after two winding hours of sleep.

„There he is,“ Mr. Kim announces, audibly proud.

Once the capsule is fully transparent, it is turned upright by the frame shifting about— and dissolves. The cocoon is gone.

The man that now stands before you slowly comes to life as if waking up from a fifty-year-long slumber.

Chapter 2: Enamel

What you first notice is his hair: Whiter than pearls, almost platinum. It’s long enough so see a slight bend in it. Whether it is actual hair or some kind of artificial fiber seems quite impossible to tell. It’s all matte, gently moving. Underneath its softly parted bangs open—

Baekhyun’s eyes. You can’t help but get tunnel vision and an awkwardly stiff posture. Even if they still look sleepy, there is so much movement in them already. They are perfectly droopy and teddy-like, turning toward you with a shapely, slightly long button nose in between. Either iris is deep and dark to the point of no pupil being immediately recognizable. There is something very intentional in his gaze that makes you hold your breath.

At a second glance, it appears as if a thin layer of beige eyeshadow was smudged right around both lash lines, drawing even more attention to the little gleam in the eyes themselves. All around the lab, the faculty’s scientists have placed huge round neon light spheres as lamps, one emitting a light more uncomfortable than the other. But in Baekhyun’s eyes, they appear like distant planets.

Seconds pass. You stare. Then, a voice light and airy knocks you out of your frozen state.

„I am very glad to be with you now,“ Baekhyun’s lips begin to move. You audibly breathe in even harder.

They are small, rosy, angular at the cupid’s bow— revealing a subtle smile with beaming teeth and red gums above. And even though they are bright, none of his teeth appear remotely the same, even, nor too symmetrical.

Imperfect like nature, they look just like yours or anyone else’s. You wouldn’t have guessed, not in a million years, that they are made of ‚steadfast, durable acrylic‘ as it said on the website. His smile looks— so real.

„Very nice to meet you, Baekhyun,“ is the only thing you manage to blurt out, extending your hand. Your brain is running on emergency autopilot.

In this moment, it feels like you are more robotic than the robot before you.

The gentle squeeze of Baekhyun’s gently forthcoming hand feels warming. Where you expected cold metal, a smooth heat spreads in your palm. Besides a small whirring sound that seems to emanate from his shoulder joints and wrist, the way he shakes your hand is fluid, malleable to how your own arm angles towards him. Almost — intuitive?

„I’m sorry if I smell like oil and metal. That will fade,“ chirps Baekhyun, lighthearted and boyish, letting go of your hand. It took you a solid eight seconds to initiate a withdrawal. The shame of feeling so desperate drives a pulsing heat into your face. Guinness world record for longest human-android handshake here we come.

Mr. Kim can’t help but laugh behind you, then ends up mumbling into his non-existent beard.

„Exceptional… truly exceptional. Our language specialists have outdone themselves. Even the voice modulation.“

Whatever that exactly means, you nod along anyway. And you almost thought Mr. Kim was laughing at you.

You rebuke yourself for getting way too defensive. It’s not that your synapses would bother dealing with complicated information like this right now to begin with.

„His voice is— It’s just how I pictured it. It’s so beautiful.“

It doesn’t sound recorded or like some random car navigation system’s speaker at all. It’s almost as if he was being perfectly synchronized by somebody standing right behind him. Only a minimal distortion at the end of his sentences gives away how his words are being generated, processed, pieced together. Other than that, his light and animated tone sounds authentic to a surprising extreme. For some reason, it’s almost as if he’s singing. He speaks surprisingly fast, too.

„You have to compliment yourself,“ Baekhyun steps forward a little, and the capsule frame behind him removes itself from the room’s center platform with a zooming noise. „My voice is designed after your imagination.“

„That’s, that’s nothing. Mr. Kim did all of the important work,“ you negate, way, way too fast, and you bite your lip for almost interrupting him.

„Baekhyun is correct,“ Mr. Kim retorts, now appearing on your left with a clipboard in his hand. He must have fetched it while you were busy being a marble statue. „He’s proof of what fantasy can achieve.“

He smiles, then begins to tick boxes on the board, using a shiny, bold black pen from his lab coat’s chest pocket. Baekhyun smiles a marvelous smile right along.

He is truly hypnotizing to your eye. The more you can take in his entirety, the more overwhelming it is, and there’s no way you can get enough of it.

His skin in particular catches your attention. It is embued with a light bronze sheen. His neck, his arms, his face: All different ways of sunkissed, but still appearing as a consistent whole.

Upon a closer look, you even see a few moles and the finest hairs— on his underarms, the chin, the linings of the cheeks. The steep jaw, too. You remember a detail on the website saying that he can actually get goosebumps, so going by that the little golden fuzz is able to move.

You’ve never seen skin like that in your whole life, and yet, it feels natural. The evenness is not the same anywhere. In some spots, there are subtle blue streaks and elongated bumps, as if there were veins. His neck and hands sport the most prominent bits. Around his wrist and elbow area, you can clearly see bone structure denting through. It’s like real skin on a skeleton. His collar bones are acutely visible, as are his knuckles and cheekbones.

„Baekhyun’s haptics are perfected to a single pore,“ a scribbling Mr. Kim picks up on your lasting, travelling gaze. „Elastic, but sturdy, and still extremely soft. You can touch him like any other person. The skin mimics the same properties except that it hardly ages. It is also heated to body temperature.“

Now you know where your money went into. And why Baekhyun’s hands felt so astoundingly real. You wonder how it would feel if he would—

„Quite alright,“ you gawk, chasing away a gazillion of incoming thoughts. All while feeling what seems like an entire waterfall of sweat trickle down your lower spine. You grant yourself the annual award for the most inept conversationalist nation-wide. „Does that need any maintenance?“

„Principally… he is a self-maintaining system,“ Mr. Kim finishes up with his paperwork. „Even small damages he can repair without you having to bring him here. He can log into our databank and get updates if necessary, though that rarely occurs with leisure models. All very discreetly, of course. The, well, the only thing Baekhyun needs from you is regular interaction. As I said: Learning is vital to him. Absolutely vital. You can talk to him like with anybody else.“

„That I can uh provide! I mean sure!“

You exhale. Slacken. Try to keep your feet parallel to each other. If interaction is the only thing needed to keep Baekhyun on his toes, your toolbox can gladly stay in the basement. Lord knows you’d be a lackluster bot mechanic. Casts, sculpture, linguistics and whatnot, on top of any screws to tighten.

„It’s a pleasure,“ a very smoldering Baekhyun straightens his body, and along with it his crisp white outfit. Which you… already like a lot.

It’s tailored rather snugly to his slim frame. You believe it’s got to be synthetics he’s wearing, a thick kind of fabric. As if you didn’t sweat already, the top is sleeveless. Even if he appears quite slender, Baekhyun’s upper arms are nevertheless muscular. The way he straightened up only emphasizes how toned he is.

„And I’m sorry I made you nervous,“ Baekhyun continues, softy gazing over your face. „Seeing someone with enamel eyes is not the most common thing.“

Now your posture becomes equally as upright. The marble statue is back.

„Enamel?“

As if you forgot whatever the hell language is. Mr. Kim must think you’re a complete fool. And Baekhyun, anyways. You already realize how well he can read situations. And— well, your very face. It’s been one of your top requirements in the customization form, after all. It comes back to bite you.

„We normally use plain glass. For the ocular apparatus, I mean,“ Mr. Kim puts away his clipboard, seemingly content. „But since Baekhyun’s eyes are so dark, engineer Park suggested a coat of enamel to emphasize shine. It adds to the visual. Otherwise, his eyes would swallow all light if you will.“

That’s why the lamp reflections are the way they are in Baekhyun’s eyes. It really is a kind of shiny effect. Not even Tulo, the new palm-sized puppy of your friend Hwasa, has such a vivid expression.

In a following moment of sobriety, you let Mr. Kim’s words repeat in your head. Ocular apparatus. It feels so weird to talk about Baekhyun’s face this way. But it helps to remind you once again. He is man-made. For you. Convincingly well.

„Do you like it?“ Baekhyun promptly asks. „It is the department’s goal to make them look as real as possible.“

„I… I can’t complain. It’s incredible. Really incredible.“

If not absolutely staggering. Your whole body feels tingly.

Baekhyun shifts close to you by the millimeter the more you gape right at him. In the meantime, Mr. Kim stuffs his pen back into the lab coat with an understanding hum.

You have no idea what Baekhyun will do now.

Chapter 3: He Treats You So Right

„So, you agree to matching up with client 2B6?“ Mr. Kim asks Baekhyun.

„I do, sir,“ comes a faithful answer right away. Baekhyun’s cheeks become fuller in a beaming smile.

„Are you satisfied with the result and would like to take Baekhyun home?“ Mr. Kim now turns to you.

„Y—yes, I… I want to.“

You don’t even dare to blink. It feels like you’ve grown roots to the ground.

Is this a marriage ceremony? Is the kiss next? Are you supposed to strip on the spot to seal the deal?

But Mr. Kim is stoic.

„I see you are ready to go then. Baekhyun can explain most of his features by himself, anyways. Better than me, even.“

In fact, he sounds more hurried and neutral now. There’s work waiting for him, you can tell. And he sure as hell had his fair share of impatient clients.

You clench up hoping that you looking at Baekhyun like that isn’t that kind of—

Neediness?

You wish you could deny it. But you’ve made the purchase, you limped all the way here. It’s already obvious, it has to be. There’s no way they don’t pick up on it. It’s what drives Mr. Kim’s business almost endlessly, anyways. In this very moment, ten, maybe twenty, even thirty other bots are presented to clients in rooms scattered all over the faculty.

You have to pull yourself together. It’s not like you’re the only one. You center back to Mr. Kim.

„He can?“

„Yes. Any autonomous bot should be able to explain themselves, it’s what I believe in.“

Now that sounded like conviction indeed.

But you wonder why Mr. Kim still bothered going on tangents, then. But yet again, whatever was on the clipboard was a test run he had to monitor or something like that.

The way he asked Baekhyun if he wanted to match up with you must have been part of that. Baekhyun had agreed so fast and warmly, in such a genuine way of speaking.

Even now, his eyes look so inviting and full of reassurance. Without a single word.

Maybe he likes you. If he can feel something like that.

Or thinks of you as a… rational option. Why would Mr. Kim ask about ‚allowance‘ — or whatever it was — in such a manner, anyways? Wouldn’t it mean that Baekhyun did have a sense of affection? Trust, even? Maybe it was just a formality. A contract, or you were just reading too much into it. But it already stuck with you.

Mr. Kim monotonously continues. Maybe he notices how preoccupied you are. Or, after all, it’s a sentence he must’ve said a thousand times.

„If any other question arises, you know how to contact us.“

„Okay, great. I, I don’t know how to thank you.“

„Your contentment, that is the biggest reward,“ Baekhyun finally enters the conversation again. With a very, very big smile.

His eyes unequivocally ask for permission to touch you, and you grant it nodding. Whatever he wants to do— if Baekhyun is trusting towards you, now it’s your turn.

Baekhyun softly places his left hand on your upper arm, pointing toward the longer end of the lab room with the other.

„We’ll take the elevator over there. You can relax your foot a little. I hope we haven’t caused an inconvenience to you. We’re taking it slow on our way.“

Mr. Kim looks just as taken aback as you, if not more.

„Her foot?“

Baekhyun gazes back at the two of you as if you just asked him whether water is wet.

„It’s blatantly obvious by the way she stands, Mr. Kim. Recovering strained Achilles heel.“

The air is laden with gasoline, the cement blocks all around sleek and cold. Slowly approaching your silver little car in the cramped underground garage’s second story, Baekhyun first seems to scan the vehicle, then turns his head to you – seamlessly. You already anticipate him commenting on whatever scratch or rusty spot first caught his eye.

But instead, he looks courteous as ever.

„I can act as your chauffeur if you desire. Today’s traffic is very busy. I’m a smooth operator.“

You can’t help but laugh a little and picture Mr. Kim feeding a Sade playlist into Baekhyun’s system. Or who knows, any robot likely has instant access to Youtube with their hypermodern internet minds.

„Sounds convenient.“

You head towards the passenger seat after passing him the keys, with Baekhyun aptly entering the car from the other side. How his knees bend, how he slides right onto the seat. With such an oddly fluid way of doing it. It doesn’t escape your glance how easily he settles down and fastens his belt right away.

The scientists have really tested for everything.

Robots are legally permitted to drive since only five years and few are advanced enough to do so.

His side profile looks smooth from where you sit. The chin pointed and sharp, the nose straight, slightly long, and dainty. Baekhyun grips the steering wheel quite expertly with his left hand. He turns the key with the other.

„Your convenience is the most important to me. And I like driving vehicles,“ the engine starts. „It’s birds of a feather.“

You fasten your own seat belt, but rather as a reflex than by deliberation. You really have to stop yourself from consistently looking at him with what must be the most puzzled you’ve been yet.

„Oh, you mean, you get on well with other machines?“

„Your car has similar gears to mine, I can’t help it. Family.“

The engine revs up a bit, then quickly develops into a sonorous purr. Whenever you drive — your car strangely never sounds like that. On your way to the faculty, the engine rather resembled a gone-wild Spanish bull stomping and grunting around in heat.

Now that you think about it — Baekhyun spent over three years in the faculty complex. Who knows with what kinds of other machines he has communicated with. Comparing yourself is arguably unfair.

„Maybe grease is thicker than water,“ you say, cramped up fingers intertwining. You don’t know where your wit has been until now. At least you can try.

Baekhyun looks quite amused, actually.

„And yet, water runs much deeper,“ he says, turning the wheel.

The car already exits the garage’s wide neon-lined gate. Baekhyun enables the A/C with swift fingers. They’re strikingly pretty. Thin, long, and elven-like. His nails are perfectly almond-shaped and look peachy.

Once more— you have to snap yourself out of another way too detailed thought. The way he touched your arm left an impression.

You feverishly search for a conversation topic, all while trying to let your eyes wander around the street.

„Is there something like… bots missing the faculty?“ you ask, swiping a few strands of hair off your right cheek. The A/C is messing with your hair a little. Baekhyun has turned it up enough for you to feel sufficiently cooled down, however. „I mean, after such a long time there.“

„By the way you customized me, I already know your home is much cozier.“

You’re trying to catch up with what he said for a solid five seconds. By the time you understand, it dawns on you how ‚he is logical‘ very much extends to some kind of predictive conclusions. That hold to be… very true.

„Ah— I, I guess? So you didn’t like it there?“

„I was built for you, that’s where I belong,“ Baekhyun says, surprisingly firm in tone. „Mr. Kim said he’s not surprised I grew bored of the environment but couldn’t figure out how to find something to do.“

„Oh… I can imagine, the faculty very much looks that way.“

You’re perplexed — because Baekhyun shakes his head.

„It’s not the place,“ he says, and you can hear his voice becoming more serious. „It was you who was missing. That I felt that way was a natural thing. I apologize if this is too early to say so frankly.“

The car takes a suave right turn, entering the bustling main street. Cabs everywhere. Confusing flashes from traffic lights and tall glass windows at every corner. Alongside many of Brooklyn’s most crisp-looking skyscrapers, a few giant advertisement boards pass by. Two of them display the familiar, ever-looming logo.

>>> AndroTech Leisure Bots Inc <<<

  Moscow | New York | Seoul

Beneath it, a corresponding slogan in red print.

He treats you so right.

You try to gather your words. But they spill, and you can’t really look at him.

„No— I mean. It’s important we’re… you know, compatible. Isn’t that, that’s the entire deal behind all of this? That we like each other. It would be silly to do anything else. Especially when this is all so… deliberately done. You don’t have to say sorry, Baekhyun.“

Your friends would probably cringe at you saying this out loud. The majority of them think you’re an oddball spending not just the money, but so many days being nervous about meeting ‚some robot’.

Busy forever customizing ‚just a piece of talking plastic and metal’. Even Hwasa was skeptical. Hyuna said it’s kind of weird to buy someone, something like that as she emphasized. But with Baekhyun next to you, the words just come out.

It feels like you’re talking to— a person.

„Thank you. I haven’t heard any other client talk about a product like that. Nobody is obliged to do this.“

„That’s sad. And I don’t think you’re just a product.“

„You really bothered a lot with me. I promise to show my gratitude.“

Baekhyun lends you an arm to limp down the small garden pathway without putting too much weight on your foot. The door to your ugly duckling of a yellow row house has always been notoriously moody, but today, it creaks particularly loud.

Baekhyun begins to inspect it, briefly caressing your back along the way even if he seems quite preoccupied with the problem. You can hardly think straight and get lost in the touch —

Until it happens.

Your grumpy old neighbor, Mr. Lee from the opposing lawn, is not fully seen behind the large bush that separates his terrace from yours, but almost definitely heard with a loud huff of disapproval.

„Eh!“

He’s observed you arrive. Or rather, heard. Probably sitting in his rusty beach chair, smoking, wearing one of his old pastel golf shirts. You can practically feel the scorch of his falcon eyes burning a hole into Baekhyun’s chest at a distance of several dozen feet.

Chapter 4: Pink Clouds

Right through like a laser cannon. It’s not like it’s particularly cold, not in this area anyways, it’s a warm spring this year. But you do shiver for a second.

„Goes on my list to fix right after the scratch on the hood,“ Baekhyun remarks in the meantime, giving the hinges a quick glance before quickly closing the door.

Mr. Lee he doesn’t even notice.

You decide to play it cool and not rub it into Baekhyun’s face. He didn’t even turn his head after Lee’s single-word, but very telling hmph tirade.

Maybe it would weigh too heavy on his mind to get an odd glance by someone else right away at his new home. Or maybe you’re projecting. But you never know how he’d take it. He has to feel welcomed by you in the first place, you think, not some bigoted grandpa who knows nothing. Mr. Lee is such a boomer.

You’re glad Baekhyun is unfazed. And, maybe even oblivious?

„I quite like the door like this, actually,“ you say.

You let your hands graze over the old door patina, then lay down your house keys on the nearby window sill. Next Monday, you’ll visit the keysmith to create a duplicate. Everything about arriving together in your home feels unusual. Surreal, almost.

„Removed fixing the door from list,“ Baekhyun nods, taking his white shoes off. „Perfection is perspective.“

You imagine him actually keeping a painstaking file on this. Somewhere on a mile-long server at AndroTech. Now you know why the faculty is so large.

„It probably sounds charming when someone comes home to the other. I mean, when it creaks. I have to get used to that.“

You feel the embarrassment on your face saying that.

You try to see the rational point to distract from your blush. Getting a heart attack from him suddenly standing in your room sounds like something to squarely avoid. Just a day ago, you would have interpreted a second pair of footsteps on this very entrance floor as a very upfront burglar.

„That is a very good reason not to repair it.“

Baekhyun smiles, doing a 360° to marvel at the entrance area in its entirety. As if it wasn’t a terribly small room at all. There isn’t much to see except a pot plant and a copy of Andy Warhol’s Marilyn Monroe print series, but he still makes big eyes regardless. Maybe this is heaven’s gate to someone who had to look at the faculty lights and way-too-large rooms for so long.

You should probably upload a video of this entire moment on your social media, but gripping the phone in your pocket feels odd. There’s no time to think about it twice anyways because Baekhyun comes to pick you up bridal style. That your heart skips more than a beat is in plain view, it has you gasping out.

„No more walking needed today. It’s leisure time!“

He lifts you far above his hip level with ease. Now you know why you wanted his arms to be big and strong. „Alright like this?“

„Wow, okay—!“

His voice is almost like a jingle, but the following squeal is strangely and completely him when he prances down the center hallway of your home. Being carried within your own four walls has knocked you off your feet indeed.

„Let me get you a blanket,“ Baekhyun props you down on your tiny mint green 80s style sofa just two minutes later. In the meantime, he has promised to make you pancakes for dinner. „You were shivering when we arrived.“

The sun has set, leaving the roof window dark above you. Instead, you’ve switched on the little blue, red, white and green lantern fairy lights dangling off the ceiling. Slipping under the sheets together is strange and oddly comforting at once. To have someone else lifting the duvet up at the same time as you. To come together underneath it.

It’s as Mr. Kim said. He is warm. And there’s a heartbeat, faint but constant, locked in his chest. You can hear it quite clearly once you opt for shifting closer to him. Whether you should be perplexed of amazed you’re unsure of. For his part, Baekhyun seems to bother getting cozy more than once by wiggling around. He finds the right position facing you laying on his side.

„You have a nice bed,“ he says, peeking at you. „Do you want to cuddle?“

He looks cute like that.

And why not.

His hair looks even more touchable in the soft light of the tiny lamps.

„Sure,“ you say, but it doesn’t sound like the most natural thing in the world. Your racing heart makes your voice more fragile than you want it to be.

„Like this? Is it alright for your foot?“

Both of you scoot together. You bury your head at his chest.

„Don’t take care of me too much, Baekhyun,“ you murmur into the fabric of his top. You can get used to having your face buried there. He doesn’t smell like grease at all. „My foot is okay as long as I don’t go berserk.“

Today’s sprint through the faculty had been the most Olympic thing you did in twelve months time, but that’s about it.

„Oh! I am sorry. Mr. Kim programmed me to anticipate and be of service as much as I can. Sometimes I go overboard.“

„I can deal with that,“ you nuzzle yourself into his chest even more. „Mr. Kim also made you a quick learner.“

„Yes, feedback is very important.“

„Mh, yeah.“

„I wanted to ask something related, actually.“

„Go ahead.“

You can’t help but clench your legs together. Bite your lip.

„You were clearly distressed when we arrived,“ his voice becomes serious. „I wasn’t sure whether it was because of me or something else.“

You feel your chest tighten.

Oh.

„Something else. It was something else. It’s not you, Baekhyun.“

„I figured. You were trying to distract from something so I wouldn’t be concerned.“

„It’s hard to hide bullshit from you,“ resurfaces your voice from his chest when you draw your head back from it.

„A bot doesn’t bother with issues, he solves them.“

He sounds confident.

„I don’t know if you can deal with this case.“

„You won’t know. You haven’t told me, after all.“

You sigh.

„It’s… someone who doesn’t like bots very much.“

„Who is it? Is there someone bothering you because of me?“

„Mister Lee. He lives next to us.“

„I see. What happened with him?“

Baekhyun’s response actually sounds far more composed than you thought. His tone is quite soothing.

„He was giving us strange looks when we arrived. Not the meh kind. The aggressive kind. You should stay away from him.“

Lord knows Mr. Kim did not build you some kind of war machine to fend off a raging boomer armed with a hark, golf club, and probably a bucket of water to shortcut Baekhyun.

„It must be a bad experience with another model. That’s what usually happened in such a case. He doesn’t know me personally, after all.“

„Maybe. It is not your fault, either way.“

„There are many people who are afraid of androids for many reasons,“ Baekhyun shrugs. „Jealousy, conspiracies, feelings of not being enough. Some of them even become clients and mistreat their bots, Mr. Kim has told me about a few cases.“

You’re taken aback.

„Why would they?“

„It’s the ultimate control or revenge experience. It’s a legal grey area.“

A silence follows. You don’t want to imagine these things but can’t help but do.

„Then I’m surprised Mr. Lee doesn’t own a bot himself. His… hatred is very strong for your kind.“

„I’ll research in our data banks about this. Maybe he had.“

„You think something went wrong?“

„It can happen.“

„Just… don’t get yourself involved with him up close. He’s creepy. Even if you know about cases like this.“

Baekhyun cocks his head into a smile.

„You’re protective of me. I appreciate that.“

And yet again— He caught you. Whether there is anything Baekhyun doesn’t see right through is reduced to a rhetorical question at this point. Sugarcoating wasn’t relevant on your website form in the first place.

„I’m… sure you look out for yourself. Just didn’t want you to feel unwanted the second we arrive.“

You avoid his eyes. Again.

„It wasn’t necessary, but that makes me feel even more welcome, you know,“ Baekhyun faithfully invites you to snuggle back up against him by leaning forward. „Few owners shield their products from harm. Other than for reasons of us being expensive investments.“

„I dunno. Aren’t most bots sentient?“

„To a degree. They’re built to resemble humans as much as possible.“

„Then— I think, emotional harm is just as shitty as some gears getting torn off or something. If there is consciousness in you. You think for yourselves after all.“

You state it with conviction. Mr. Lee doesn’t seem to realize anything of that.

„I do perceive it. But my brain makes it so that I draw neutral conclusions often. Maybe it’s because my purpose is to be of convenience. No owner needs a dwelling Shakespeare robot defunct in a day-long crisis because he self-indulges. Although I am able to recite all his plays.“

Neutral conclusions. You don’t think you fully understood that yet. Was it— Just like how Baekhyun reacted to Mr. Lee’s taunting? He wasn’t enraged nor happy. He didn’t register it at all.

„Is that… why bots stay with abusive owners?“

You try to utter this carefully, and most of it gladly turns out muffled. Still, Baekhyun acutely understands. You can tell by just how fast he answers.

„The bot will rebuild or reprogram oneself in case of damage. But walking back to Mr. Kim a model would never do. Feeling traumatized or targeted is foreign to us. We could be bored at most,“ Baekhyun shrugs again, and you remember how he experienced the faculty. Boredom. „But that’s only because our processors suggest we need new input and learn.“

Now it makes sense. You give a sharp nod.

„A robot doesn’t become a victim,“ Baekhyun continues. „He becomes trash in a worst-case scenario. A waste of material and innovation. And even then, he won’t feel sad. If he does look sad, it’s to accommodate the feelings of someone who feels sorry for him. And for showing an appropriate situational cue. It’s picked up solely from language we acquired, and our courtesy protocol. Not something like hormone receptors. If we are destroyed for fun by an owner, that’s the emotional baggage of nobody. Mr. Kim perhaps, but he will just build another bot. While we— well. It’s not a concern to us, naturally. We will protect ourselves only to preserve what the client purchased.“

„So… That’s where humans and androids are different.“

„It’s the last gap in science. That we really feel something below the surface. Maybe it’s a blessing, maybe it’s not. Sometimes I wish I could learn it.“

„I think you could experience a feeling like that. You’re self-aware. And Mr. Kim is probably building this whole hormone thing as we speak.“

„It’s quite a thought experiment. On the one hand, I was created to make rational decisions. On the other, I wish I had the presence to live through self-generated, volatile emotions.“

„Isn’t yearning for feeling not feeling already?“

„It is of academic interest. That I want to evolve and experience myself is a wish programmed into to me by Mr. Kim. Because it was a wish by you.“

„Right.“

On the website, you had specified to make Baekhyun self-developing.

„Maybe I will feel something one day.“

„I am convinced it could happen.“

„Until now, I can only mirror someone else’s feelings. With words and the strings that move my face to make expressions.“

„I think I know why many people are jealous of robots. They don’t have the burden of this chemical cocktail inside of them. The irony is… robots want to have that cocktail while humans want to get rid of it.“

Baekhyun picking up on your every mood and approaching you so eagerly with his observations of it is no longer a mystery. He tried to assimilate the sentiments as much as possible. To grow, evolve, whatever the objective might be called.

„The grass is always greener on the other side as they say. Maybe that’s why we do this exchange.“

„That’s like people with curly hair wanting straight hair and the other way around. Never content with that they have and valuing the opposite.“

„Are you not happy with your own cocktail yourself? You sound like you do.“

„It’s… a lot of responsibility to have this. And a hassle anyway.“

Baekhyun chuckles. It must have been an equation in his mind.

„Humans don’t like feeling something negative. It’s interesting how strong their survival instincts are. Bots don’t have this.“

„Yeah. We crave happiness.“

„I will probably never know what that is like. I was created for fulfilling someone else’s.“

To have someone made to make your survival easier. And to make you happy. It’s not something you can yet grasp. You feel obliged to be grateful.

„I wish you could feel it.“

„Your wish is my command, I have to thank you.“

„Maybe this human cocktail is good for at least something. Inspiring someone who can’t have it.“

„From an outsider’s perspective, it is quite something, actually.“

„So— It mends your ‚boredom‘ when you make us happy? And that makes you ‚happy‘?“

Baekhyun nods.

„That’s how it is. Maybe happiness for a bot translates to their brain and physical form getting fed information. We don’t feel how we enjoy this process, but we see how our system thrives when that information comes in. And that registers as a task fulfilled. Which is the best state of a robot to be in.“

„Is it that helping you learn about things makes you something… close to happy?“

That Mr. Kim stressed so much that Baekhyun needs interaction for input doesn’t seem so overstated anymore.

„Yes. But it’s not ‚about things‘.“

„Oh?“

„It’s helping me learn things about you.“

His voice is serious. Your legs feel kind of wobbly at that.

„The regular conversation thing, right.“

„It’s the only requirement from you. It might not seem like a lot, but to me, it’s important. I depend on new things coming my way.“

„Do other clients get that request to talk a lot with their bots, too?“

„Most need only a minimal amount of input. I’m one of the few leisure models who was customized with an emphasis on intellect.“

„Made you a bit of a contradiction I guess.“

„Mr. Kim said that it’s what makes me one of his favorite projects. It’s because of your ideas and that you cared to make me special. I am important to you in some way.“

The word strikes a chord.

Special.

Maybe Baekhyun is. And you bolstered yourself up by making him so to escape the lonely single pringle void. Equipping him with intricate characteristics to give him and yourself a kind of—legitimacy?

Then again, you haven’t interacted with other leisure models other than watching overedited videos of them. Each of those bots could be equally complex. Knowing of Mr. Kim’s genius that sneaks into everything a bot does, the benefit of the doubt still rules.

„Lots of learn talk, then. Anything specific to make it, I mean, quality input?“

Who knows, you think, he might want to learn foreign languages.

„There is a way of making it particularly effective,“ Baekhyun says.

„Remind me often, then. What is it?“

You anticipate some grand revelation. But Baekhyun doesn’t look like it.

„It’s when you touch me. When we, we touch each other. I was built with this in mind. Kinetic learning is what I process best.“

„Touch…—“

„If this is okay for you?“

Almost instantly— You flush. And nod.

„Your skin is unbelievable.“

„It has memory, actually. In particular places it’s very pronounced. Do you want to try it?“

„Yes.“

Baekhyun eases out of your cuddling position first, then loosens the velcro of his top, making space for his bare chest.

What you see shortens your breath.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

His eyes invite you to lay your hand between his collar bones, actually, just a little bit lower. He is entirely comfortable, even leaning forward into the touch.

Judging by how he opens his top even more, your hand has permission to trace down to his solar plexus. So warm and soft, and still: Firm, as if he worked out every day last week.

„What is meant by memory, actually?“ you can’t keep yourself from asking, even with your attention almost fully centered on how his chest arches under your fingers as if he was breathing.

And again, the heartbeat. Your fingertips delight in its strong pulse.

„The more you enjoy something, the more often I can give you the opportunity.“

„That’s how it works, then…“

„Since you like stroking my chest,“ Baekhyun looks down on your hand. „If you allow, you won’t see me with this top on lying next to you often.“

You suck in air. Wow.

„You don’t beat around the bush, Baekhyun.“

„There is no reason not to if I want to please you as much as possible.“

„I would like it. If you prefer that?“

Now, he seems surprised.

„Nobody has asked me this before.“

„Really?“

„My principle is this. If you prefer it, I do.“

„You don’t have your own preferences with these kinds of things?“

„I can come up with ideas. Things for us to try when we touch. But I won’t be partial. It’s all your part.“

„That’s a lot of responsibility for me,“ you puff out. Baekhyun shakes his head right away.

„Someone who customized every last detail of me is a very decisive person. And don’t feel burdened,“ he says. „I already know you like to take everything step by step. When I carried you, I felt it. You don’t have to worry. Just feel my heart.“

Maybe he knows you better than you do.

„Okay.“

Using his right hand, he reaches towards his chest. Baekhyun’s hand ends up cupping yours. Minutes pass. You survey his heartbeat. Sometimes, it switches pace. After almost twenty minutes pass and your lids start to flutter, Baekhyun switches off the lights and whispers goodnight.

Bright Saturday noon daylight. Bustling flocks of people. Weekend joys, lots of pocket money spent. You can smell fries, candied fruits, popcorn, and cigarette smoke all around.

„Normally, I’m a stay-at-home android,“ Baekhyun says, close beside you. „I didn’t know this could be so entertaining.“

Together with you, he watches a bearded Italian man at a stall. Expertly, the man swirls feathery light cotton candy threads back and forth with a thin stick. It smells amazing. Slowly but surely, letting thin layers of floss gather.

„I just try to go by Mr. Kim’s advice and introduce something new,“ you laugh, meanwhile handing the Italian’s assistant two coins for your candy floss.

„I never knew something like an edible pink cloud could be made.“

Baekhyun ogles the Italian as if he were a magician, prompting stifled laughter in the queue of the stall.

„I’m actually surprised,“ you pick up the wooden stick, then take your first bite. „That it’s not something you were already programmed with knowing.“

Side by side, you stroll off the stall, letting the other queuing customers step to the counter now.

„The faculty is like it’s own universe,“ Baekhyun shrugs. „The scientists don’t think about pink clouds there. I’m only a reflection of what they can imagine a prototype to be like.“

You get what he means. In such a sterile environment, you don’t think about sweets.

„Guess I’ll take you out of town more often,“ you pull apart the candy floss a little. Then, you hand Baekhyun a piece of it. You know he’s practically dying to touch it by the way his fingers twitch. Unsurprisingly, he immediately begins to poke into it.

„I like the funfair a lot,“ he nods. Meanwhile, you begin to stroll, passing other stalls every so often. „There are so many people. And this feels almost as soft as your hair.“

„Really? It surely isn’t.“

„Scientifically and physically speaking—“

„Okay, okay, I believe you.“

„I wish I could eat pink clouds myself.“

„The taste is like, well caramel, if you know what that is?“

„Caramel is a mixture of sugar, salt, cream, and butter,“ Baekhyun’s voice snaps into what you think is some kind of memory mode. „Henri Le Roux was the first chocolatier to sell it in 1980, though it is said to be an originally Arabic treat. Traditionally, it is served in small blocks that have about the same color as honey.“

„Yes exactly, and it’s really sweet.“

„What does sweet taste like?“

„Oh… I don’t even know how you could describe that. It’s kind of addictive? Very light… pleasant. Maybe, just how you believe a pink cloud tastes like.“

„If it’s pleasant, it’s a good thing,“ Baekhyun offers you the piece of floss that you gave him. „Maybe we should visit the stall again after we saw the carousel.“

„I’ll get cavities, Baek, and the portion is huge!“

„Oh— I’m sorry,“ he retreats his hand again, keeping the piece to himself. „I’ve never felt how it’s like to have a stomach.“

„You’re both lucky and not so lucky, then. You can’t eat candy but you can’t get stomach aches either.“

Baekhyun doesn’t quite look like he agrees, but keeps on gently kneading the cotton piece in his hands. Almost like a stress ball, but you can tell he gauges its characteristics.

A bot must hardly ever feel stress. Unless you do have him play tennis, or whatever else Mr. Kim would suggest Baekhyun to do for the sheer academic fun of it. But again — You remember saying that Baekhyun knows your home is cozy. Maybe he likes doing relaxed things and going out this way.

„Where humans have a stomach,“ he says, patting his belly, „I have an engine. It can be defect if I’m reckless.“

„That’s fair enough!“ you laugh, then point at the white and yellow carousel that begins to shift into sight behind the stalls. „I sure as hell won’t make you ride this one.“

„It’s so large!“

The big eyes he made at the cotton candy are nothing compared to how Baekhyun looks at the carousel.

„It always spins for ten minutes or so. You’ll see in a few seconds. I got vertigo last time I went on there with my brother. Watching is way nicer.“

„I wouldn’t recommend you get in there either, your foot isn’t fully healed yet.“

„Oh, you don’t need your feet for that.“

„Really?“

„You’re pretty much lifted in the air. Look,“ you point at the passengers finding their place. After a lanky guy has controlled all of the security belts, the seats rise, and then stars to spin around at a slow pace. Baekhyun seems like he’s just discovered the formula for beaming someone through space.

„Mr. Park told me there are things like this. And I’ve seen pictures of it. But I didn’t think it’d be like that. They’re flying!“

„M-hm.“

At this point, you are sure Baekhyun has an interest in physics. You decide to linger close to him, observing the seats fly past overhead. People cheer. Baekhyun smiles.

After a while, he turns his head to you. He sees that you’re spaced out. He turns his eyes back to the seats. It’s only after the carousel slows down that he turns to you again.

„Is there something that has preoccupied you?“

„Pardon?“

„You looked like you were wondering about something. Is it the faculty?“

You couldn’t hide the most trivial secret even if you wanted to. At least you won’t have a divorce from your robot husband at 47 because of a skeleton in the closet.

„I… was thinking about a moment before we said goodbye there,“ you say, chucking the wooden stick of the cotton candy into a nearby trash can.

„I knew you still had a question. But you didn’t want to ask in front of Mr. Kim, right?“

Any other person saying this would sound like a smug accuser, but Baekhyun speaks as if he was talking about the weather. There is no guile in him.

„Maybe. I don’t know. I was just wondering what this whole matching up thing was about.“

„Ah, that’s what it was.“

„It was confusing to me. I tried to explain it to myself somehow,“ you shrug. „Didn’t want to make it awkward.“

Looking at Baekhyun, he very well has that explanation up his sleeve. Maybe you should have asked earlier.

„AndroTech believes that robots can make up their minds to go with the client or not.“

„They do?“

„Perhaps not based on reasons that a human would think about to make a decision. But nevertheless, it’s their free will. If he says no, a new bot will be presented to the customer a week later.“

You’re genuinely surprised — and have a thousand questions already.

„I didn’t know that. I always thought that once the money is paid, it’s a set deal.“

Now you’re racking your brain why no such thing was stated on the website. You bet it’s a terms-of-service rule in font size 5.

„Mr. Kim says we should trust our judgment,“ Baekhyun continues. „It’s meant to protect us without being patronizing, I think. We can decide. At least at the beginning. I don’t know if bots like me have left their owners.“

„Maybe it’s a warning for clients who think they can do anything just because they paid.“

„I think so,“ Baekhyun says. „It’s also expensive for the faculty if something with the insurance happens. Or complicated repairs, that kind of thing.“

You’re cocking up a brow.

„That doesn’t have a lot to do with your free will, though.“

„It has to be mutually beneficial. Bots get to choose, Mr. Kim’s projects increase in security by doing that. Companies work by deals. Maybe it’s not a bad thing. I’m thankful I could decide. And I’m thankful they made me.“

Baekhyun’s statement couldn’t sound any more genuine to you, and you believe that he really is.

„You get to see pink clouds,“ you point back to the direction of the Italian stall.

„That, and— I get to see you.“

Baekhyun looks you straight in the eye now. It’s like in the lab room all over again.

You can’t get out anything other than an awkward stuttering noise.

„I, yes.“

„You have to know. I’m only built to learn about things like pink clouds because it pleases you.“

„Are you sure?“ you tilt your head, regaining your full voice tone again. „You wanted to taste the candy, too.“

Baekhyun takes a bit longer to answer now. He seems to ponder.

„That’s true,“ he eventually concludes. „Maybe I’m more selfish than I thought.“

Baekhyun’s head sinks. The eye contact breaks.

You haven’t seen him look sad before, or at least don’t remember it. Even if the funfair is in bright daylight, his eyes look as if they dim down.

„Hey. It’s not wrong wanting a taste,“ you reach forward to cup his chin. „You’re a leisure bot. You have to analyze these things, don’t you? Or, if you could, just enjoy them for yourself, you know.“

„I never thought of it this way.“

„That Mr. Kim gave you the opportunity to decide,“ you linger in your touch, „means that you’re not just here for me. You can experience things from your perspective.“

„I was doubtful it could be true.“

„But it is, Baekhyun.“

„I still can’t try pink clouds…“

„You still can. Just your way, you see. Skin memory.“

You take a moment to muster all your guts and lean in close, then kiss Baekhyun on the lips. They are subtly warm and pliable. Small, but plush. They gently pucker, as if they returned the kiss.

You never thought it could feel so authentic. Even what feels like accelerated breath ghosts over your skin. Baekhyun seems to notice your astonishment, opening his lips just a little. Maybe just to snap you out of paralysis and prove that what you feel is nowhere near the full extent of how he can move.

Or maybe— it is an invitation.

Eventually, you convince your mind that this is not just an illusion. The feeling on your lips is very real.

Unlike moments ago, you don’t hesitate. You let your tongue dip forward just enough to separate his lips by millimeters. They promptly ease around you. Baekhyun’s teeth are considerably small, and it figures, it all fits the petite frame. However, they don’t scratch your tongue one bit, you glide right across them instead. His bottom lip feels plump and works so easily as a cushion.

He’s already relaxed his jaw. You don’t even notice that he hardly tastes like anything. All you are concerned with is lapping the taste of cotton candy into him, and going by how his lips tighten, Baekhyun has understood how to take it in.

A sudden heat permeates you. Along with it comes a lewd idea, flickering before your inner eye. The imagination of Baekhyun sucking on your clit like that makes your tongue pull back to its original position. As if you had to breathe in. He notices. He’ll do something about it. It’s not just the low pressure in his mouth now that you retreated. Baekhyun wants more cotton candy. His dark eyes are begging.

What slips out to briefly nip at your top lip… his tongue. The back of your head surprisingly registers a steady touch by now — it is Baekhyun’s right hand gently cupping the surface your hair. His touch is so nuanced, you don’t feel his fingers, only how your own hair cushions back against your head. By the time his tongue retreats, your lips tingle with warmth.

Now you want more.

All he dared was a little nip, but you are curious of feeling his tongue to explore more. Baekhyun hardly has to riddle what it means that your hand sneaks up to his jaw from underneath and guides his chin toward you.

His lashes shake and eventually cast down when he releases himself into you. Baekhyun’s tongue surrenders quickly between your lips and accepts your tongue, swirling slow and deliberate as if you would coat him with liquid sugar.

Your hand doesn’t feel like leaving its position. Baekhyun’s jaw is narrow and not at all difficult to hold between your fingertips. You let him pulse and lick into you softly. Taste all the sweetness. His bottom lip is all wet and soft against yours. Slow and moaning. You sure do hear him gasp and whine at the back of his throat.

That it’s all just your saliva and his voice is all but a speaker feels so surreal. With Baekhyun’s tongue in your mouth, very aptly moving, it’s all nothing but a kiss with a robot. It feels so hard to part and stop, to catch a breath.

What must have been twenty seconds looking like a semi-chaste, bordering provocative kiss from a certain distance really got your blood circulating. Baekhyun’s eyes have become yearning.

„If that’s what it tastes like…“

„We have a lot to do when we get home.“

Chapter 5: Are You The Machine?

Being times more the social butterfly, Hwasa told you to buy a convertible sofa when you moved in — very much unknowing of Baekhyun joining your household three years later.

The number of birthday parties and overnight guests you actually found the couch useful for you can count on two hands. Six days ago, you were already pondering to give it away. Who knew you would’ve regretted that big time. You promise to write Hwasa a thank you text for being sensible later.

Despite looking small in its usual state, the couch always proves to be much larger than your actual bed in its extended form, and is much firmer to rest on. A little dull with its mint color, but that you can squarely ignore. It doesn’t creak, smells pretty neutral, and is situated in the precise middle of the living room where soft lighting emanates from three corners of the area at once without it being too obnoxious to the eye.

For a guest, sleeping on it would mean a tough night and tense back. But for Baekhyun, it’s a perfectly steady surface to recline on. He’s been stripping off his top true to his promise from last night, neatly folding it afterwards. He lays it aside just as gently as he leans back, being the first one on the sofa.

„Okay, are you ready?“

His tone is relaxing.

„Yes.“

But you don’t let that fool you, climbing on the sofa yourself now. Baekhyun’s eyes rest on you more observant than ever. Calmly, not remotely rude, but still taking in every clue. You realize that it’s what he’s been made for. It’s his hour. So he’s not going to ignore one little detail true to his nature.

You feel naked even if you’re still clothed even if it’s not Baekhyun’s intent. The way you had no chance in hiding your foot injury, you are now all too aware that he sees your nervous breath going deep.

Whenever you’re vulnerable, you opt for the fast lane. Today is no different. Knowing your favorite safe spot, you head for his chest. Baekhyun’s arms accept you knowingly. You’re snug against him in seconds. And kiss his neck, again and again, until you look up to catch another breath.

„Is, is that good?“

You hate saying that but you still did. Making big eyes at him as if it was the first thing you’ve ever done with a man.

Baekhyun visibly notes your haste and struggle for words just so that something is said. He’s deliberate in taking a moment before his answers.

„Can I ask you something?“ he eventually says, with a silvery overlay in his voice swinging along his words.  

„No problem?“ you cock your head. The request is coming soon. You wonder what’s been on his mind. Maybe he doesn’t like neck kisses. You find yourself holding your breath both out of suspense and not to sound like you’re running out of it. It’s like the faculty all over again. Baekhyun smoothes his right palm into the nape of your neck.

„If I could do all the work…“

„Oh—“

„I think we’d be in the spots we’re comfortable in. Please don’t misunderstand.“

„No no, I get it.“

„You don’t have to overextend yourself for me,“ he continues, in a low tone.

„Sorry, Baekhyun,“ you cast down your eyes. „I’m acting all stupid again.“

„I’m not saying that. What I mean is— I can show you how my body works the best when we try it this way. I want to find out every way to make you satisfied. I’m afraid I’m not suitable the other way around no matter how I twist it. Please don’t be sad because of this. Just tell me what to do. Anything. The best way to please me is still to please yourself. You don’t have to worry about me not getting an experience out of it. It’s just happening in my way that might not be visible to you.“

Baekhyun ends with a serious look.

You remember the phrase of Mr. Kim.

The, well, the only thing Baekhyun needs from you is regular interaction. As I said: Learning is vital to him. Absolutely vital.

Once more, you have to remind yourself. What keeps Baekhyun running is nowhere near the same thing as what makes you do what you do.

You turn a bit red realizing it’s not 50 rapid-fire kisses that he needs. Except to know that you like doing that maybe. But other than that, what Mr. Kim said between the lines is that Baekhyun will stagnate or even degenerate if you don’t talk to him the right way. Not about him, but about yourself.

„You… want the essentials to learn. You prefer when I speak and command.“

He gives a clean nod. You got the point.

„I will do everything else. When I say I want to act— This is not me trying to control you or something like that. I just think it’s good to start out this way. I want the weight off those two,“ he points at your shoulders. „You feel a lot of pressure that you have to do something. Me allowing you draining your energy feels counterproductive to me. I’m not saying you’d be bad at pleasing. I merely can’t help it. Fulfilling your wishes, if you will.“

„I’ve never done this before. I try to instruct you as good as I can. Sometimes I forget what you were made for.“

Maybe that learning process involves not just him figuring you out. It dawns on you that your responsibility for Baekhyun is nothing you can underestimate.

„You think of me as a person you can please. I appreciate this. But I want you refreshed and not exhausted like that. And I apologize if I’m very insisting or stopping you. Or if you feel very watched or transparent because I try to understand you. I just have to say this so we work out well from the start.“

Baekhyun’s eyes drop to your chest quite unequivocally. Of course, he’s seen you getting all worked up.

„I, I get that. I get what you mean. I think I’ve tried to bite off more than I can chew,“ you clamp up your hands. „That was too fast. I’m still running on my old bad habits.“

It strikes you in your gut that you’re the one acting like you’re automatic.

Dull, unreflected. Merely reactive if anything.  Do you realize,  you think,  how fucked up that is. Baekhyun has been behaving more human that you do. Are you the machine?

„I’m not… used to someone watching out for me this way. If I’m not saying what I want… all you can do is take every clue you get.“

Admitting that might make you feel tighter in the lungs, but at least it was honest. Maybe that’s part of responsibility, too. You’re starting to get why interrupted you. There’s a roadblock that needs to get taken down. And that block is inside of you.

Baekhyun very well knows you’re not ready nor really craving to bounce up and down on him for half an hour without getting a cramp or looking mighty weird. Not with that foot injury in the first place.

„I won’t need a clue if I already know I can do something for you. That brings me fun. You can be selfish. Be as selfish as you want to until it’s second nature. I know you have good intent. I can help you learn this. But I take the bulk of things. You don’t have to be ambitious with me.“

Baekhyun’s voice really does make you feel like you don’t have to worry about it. Until it’s second nature, then. Being so new to this really makes you scattered in your thoughts.

„I’ll remember this. I, I think I have something that I want you to try with me.“

Your hands unclamp. At least a little.

„All ears,“ he smiles. You push a strand of hair behind your ear. And another one.

„Is it weird if we try something experimental first?“

Starting out slow and uneventful or taking a dare. You went through either scenario in your head already. Either case, you’d overwhelm yourself or make the first time awkward. At least you hope this one works out.

„You gave me over 280 customizations. We can do something different for almost every day of the year. I think anyone would be curious.“

Talk about being too ambitious. You already saw what kind of stir that caused in the faculty.

„Mr. Kim must have thought I’m crazy.“

„He overworked himself. But he said it was entertaining to construct. Almost everything you came up with is now inside here,“ Baekhyun points at himself.

„Still can’t believe it.“

„And I won’t complain about having more options either. It helps me to cater to you much better. Just ask away.“

Very well. You gather yourself already.

It’s not like you’ve been thinking about a certain thing all the way home from the funfair. You try to make it come out cohesive and confident, but all you can do is mumble. Baekhyun’s face so up close makes your words unstable.

„So, uh. It said on the website you have this special mechanism and… you know what I wrote below that in the questionnaire. I was, I was just giving it a try and, you don’t have to do this if that doesn’t work out or something. It was just an idea. I don’t know.“

Somewhere beyond that word spill, you can still see how Baekhyun already looks like he knows exactly what you mean.

„The  Special Request .“

You swallow hard. That sounds like a brow-raising term that probably the entire faculty departments passed around back and forth in their memos and emails. You feel like hiding for 50 years. Maybe you should resort to digging a hole in your garden and disappear from civilization in an underground cave system. Planting beetroots and carrots shouldn’t be too difficult down there, even in this day and age.  

„The… special request. I mean, this is something that I don’t have to do anything for, technically? Not with my foot, right? But I hope this is not too special or something like that.“

Unlike yours, Baekhyun’s face is completely relaxed.

„I’d be glad to test this out with you,“ he says. „And I have to be frank. Mr. Kim said this might have been the best idea you could have given a robot scientist to work on, you know.“

Now that comes as a surprise that makes you exhale pretty sharply. He can’t lie about this, can he?

Again, you feel the blood shoot up to your face. You couldn’t be any more flustered. Maybe this actually wasn’t a too bad idea.

But still. Out of all things, you really asked him to do  this .

Just about the most perverted thing you could think of at the moment.

Special Request. What a mad thing to do. And now you’re here and he said yes. It’s bizarre. You feel the urge to jolt.

„…I’ll be getting a towel.“

But there’s a loving hand rested on your shoulder as you do.

„Y/N. There might be someone else who’s supposed to do that,“ Baekhyun holds you back from jumping up and rolling off the bed entirely. „Your politeness is quite incredible to me, I must say.“

And you did the same mistake again.

You grit your teeth, snap back into Mr. Kim’s advice. Instruct, instruct, instruct. It feels like you have to rewire your brain from scratch.

„Please— bring me a towel, Baekhyun,“ you rephrase, pause in your movement, and take a deep breath. Giving commands like that wasn’t anything like you’ve done with your previous boyfriend. You never dared. You thought it would bother him.

But Baekhyun is headed down the hallway in almost a split second. He returns with not one, but two towels. And— A hair tie.

He hands it to you with a little smile. Baekhyun didn’t miss you swipe your hair out of your face multiple times.

Concentrated in his work, he gets busy stacking one towel at the end of the bed and splaying out the other across the sheets. Waiting, you sit at the edge and watch. His movements are economical and fast. Once the bigger towel of the two is neatly lined up as a square, he stops to look at you.

Okay , you think to yourself.  Next thing you want, next thing… He’s not here to chit chat nor are you. Don’t be silly and ask why he’s looking at you like that. You can’t just ask for towels and it’s done with the whole instruction thing. He doesn’t mind if you say this with more directness. Bots can’t read minds. It’s not like he’s working on autopilot like some other pleasure models do. It won’t sound weird, it’s what he needs. Say something, say something. Keep it crisp now.

„Come pick me up. Settle me on this.“

That’s more like it.

„All as you wish.“

Baekhyun scoops you up from the edge of the bed without any seeming effort. When you first arrived at your house, you already felt just how easily his arms were carrying you. Who’s to blame? In the online questionnaire, you requested nothing less than that.

Given what he’s made of and how he’s powered, his muscle capacity can’t fade. It’s crafted for endurance. You find yourself transfixed on his biceps gulping. That he’s topless and you can feel his heartbeat doesn’t help.

„Is there something wrong with my arms?“ he stops on the spot.

Baekhyun took only the blink of an eye to notice. You might as well blurt out your entire uncensored thoughts whenever they come up. Maybe you’re wrong about the mind-reading thing. Again.

„I was just wondering… You can’t really tire, right.“

He seems to have anticipated the question. Meanwhile, the shakiness in your voice is hard to conceal.

„Every model,“ he retorts, „is instructed to take that into consideration. We’re not getting together with a fellow bot who works the way we do. Mr. Kim told us many times that we have to mind the difference.“

„So this is part of the testing?“

„Yes. Underestimating it is a bad idea. Not because we want to insult a human or anything. It’s just a mechanical thing to mind. We’re just built this way. By virtue of the material if you will.“

„Yeah. You’re really strong…“

As of yet, Baekhyun’s posture holding you is still the very same. He grips you from underneath your upper back and knees without crouching or wavering. His body’s balance is absolute nuts. Every other guy would’ve shifted your weight or his feet somehow. And Baekhyun isn’t even reaching 5’10 or looks particularly buff from a distance. At the carousel, he even looked as if he was a kid.

„There’s no reason to worry,“ he immediately shakes his head. „I’ll be very careful. I know that I have to harness my strength. I’m not going to do things roughly unless you really want it.“

Now that you think about it. He could probably pulverize you with one thrust. Rest in peace, uterus.

„So, you can adapt to me, right?“

On the inside, you already beat yourself up for questioning Baekhyun like that. He’s your creation. Mr. Kim perfected him. He doesn’t have flawed human intentions or ulterior motives. Comparing him to guys who didn’t have your best interest in mind is an unfair thing. All of his body is regulated and under meticulous control. The way he kissed you at the funfair was done with impeccable measure. Everything down to the millimeter. There is no reason to mistrust him.

„If there’s anything I’m programmed to do, it’s that,“ he says through a smile, causing his cheeks to become adorably full. Up close like that, again you notice how small his face is.

„That’s, that’s true,“ you soothe yourself, and make effort to hold onto him. Although you probably wouldn’t fall off by accident even if you randomly flailed around.

„You don’t have to be afraid. I couldn’t hurt you even if I get a bug.“

„Heard about it,“ you say, recalling one of the first videos you watched about pleasure models online.

„I would shut down and Androtech gets an emergency video call that goes straight to your phone.“

Nothing less than that has also been the first bullet point in the online document you received after sending Mr. Kim your questionnaire. You signed the paper only a week ago.

„Okay. Yeah, there are many precautions. Even if your system runs on an error, nothing’s gonna happen.“

„You got it. I’ll do everything slowly, okay.“

Slowly bending forward, he plants you in the center of the sofa with the spread towel well distributed all underneath. You could roll to the side, it’d still cover the area well enough. With you on your back and feet propped up, Baekhyun joins you kneeling on his heels at a certain distance. Seeing him this way makes him look cute. It’s hard to believe that someone sitting so chastely on your sheets could probably elbow any bypassing truck into a street ditch.

You have to gather yourself again. Deep breaths from the belly. The nervousness is back stronger than ever.

Hey. This is what you got him for,  you say to yourself.

Why’d you be a chicken? Baekhyun is just as sweet as you wanted him to be. Strip and get your orgasms. That’s what he’s here for. Not hurling you to outer space or whatever. It’s rude if you pretend anything else and have him wait. You spent too much time customizing the living hell out of the website and Mr. Kim’s team worked too hard on this for you to ruin it like a scaredy-cat. This is what you wanted. Literally, exactly what you were imagining. Now do him the favor to fulfill that, and do yourself the favor. You’re more of a prick if you deprive him of things he can do for you than if you are selfish for once. This is taking way too long. It’s ridiculous. You can make this so simple.

You have to admit that the sudden inner voice came up at the right time for a pep talk. You make sure to put the right weight into your voice.

„Please take off my clothes.“

Chapter 6: Candy Apples

You exhale, mentally flip through the safeword instructions that the faculty website provided at the top of the questionnaire. Stop for stop, pausefor pause, more for more. Straightforward business. They know they’re dealing with nervous clients.

Once Baekhyun is done peeling your jeans off, he nonchalantly tosses them off the sofa knowing very well you made a strange face at him for folding his own clothes. You have to laugh and almost forget that you’re almost entirely naked in front of him for a moment.

Your voice would probably come out too squeaky and trembling at this point. So you take the liberty of reaching for Baekhyun’s wrist. It’s surprisingly small with your fingers loosely wrapped around it. His pretty fingers couldn’t be any more enticing. You questioningly shoot a glance up at him.

„Yes. Guide me,“ he whispers, and it sounds as intimate as it did last night under the fairy lights. „That’s perfect.“

As good as you can, you at least try to get more comfortable on your back. You don’t dare to laxly spread your legs yet, but manage to bring his hand close enough between them. Your voice comes out in staccato, but it’s still more stable than you thought.

„Your thumb… And your index… Please rub me.“

Baekhyun lowers his hand on your core in a soft pace.

„Okay. Very slowly,“ he says. „I’m starting now. And always say stop if you want me to. You know the safeword system, right?“

You nod.

„It said you’ll also give me clues for tapping.“

At least when the situation requires it.

„I’ll be sending Mr. Kim a message that I’m in good hands just like he thought,“ a very content Baekhyun smiles gently at you.

His touch is quite feathery at first, not lingering for too long as to see how you react. Baekhyun’s hands are sweet and slender on you, nor are his palms very wide. They both alternate on and fit well with the very spot they caress in tender intervals. You can be lucky your underwear is still on. His touch would probably shock you if it was skin-to-skin right away.

How long his fingers really are you start to feel when he drags his index finger down from your pubes, across your clit, between your labia, dusting just briefly over your clothed entrance. Your jaw feels like it’s sewn shut. The noises you want to make are too overwhelming. Baekhyun keeps on repeating his strokes until he changes to using both hands at once. Again, being very dainty how they trace the area, but not missing a single inch.

„Shit… You can use more pressure. But don’t do it for too long, Baek.“

Baekhyun doesn’t waste much time. The rubs of his thumb push down on your clit quite a little more. With the fabric of your panties between his finger and you, the friction turns into a languid heat and a slowly oozing wetness getting trapped in the spot. Only his other hand is necessary to feel yourself beginning to soak.

„That’s beautiful,“ is the only comment from him that you can hear through your upcoming moans, now finally let out.

How damp you are is accompanied by Baekhyun’s either thumb dipping into the little hill your clit makes through the white cotton, probably becoming semi-transparent with every new caress. You could go crazy.

„Do what, whatever. Use your entire hand. I mean hands. Use both. Use all your fingers.“

Your moans are thrilled. And as desperate as you’ve been trying to hide. But he only seems spurred by it. That relief helps you loosen up at least a little more.

„I’ll try something, okay. Say how you like it.“

As if the tension on your clit is not enough, Baekhyun has the compelling idea to switch from his thumbs to using both index and middle finger to prod between your labia as if they were headed to penetrate you.

They push against your entrance carefully enough not to tear the cotton, but as proper as having the juicy, wet bit of skin around the opening feel his two fingertips going for their aim with a steadfast precision. They come in just below your urethra, almost sliding past underneath it, all over the fabric, right onto your hole. He knows exactly where to position them, and keeps his fingers locked and circling in the spot.

„Fuck. You’re too good at this. Push it.“

„Once or more?“

„Do it more. Do it as if you were fucking me.“

The hem of your panties gets pulled down briefly with every tug that results from Baekhyun dipping his two fingers forward. By not even half an inch, but you can feel it. The fabric dents inward where he stiffens his fingers and lets them sink into your pussy shallow, as much as the cotton allows.

In the meantime, the upper part of his left hand is preoccupied flat against your clit, making it swell up by giving a rhythmic pulse with a surprising consistency. You grit your teeth. His expression is as concentrated and adoring as always.

You realize that obviously — Baekhyun doesn’t have a dominant hand. Why would he. Left, right, they’re both able to do the exact same thing with the exact same agility and intensity. Or completely different things without influencing each other.

With the many possible scenarios popping up in your mind by knowing that, your legs open by themselves. Baekhyun keeps on patting your clit, but going much slower to drag out the arousal. He’s taking off some pressure, but softly continues.

Meanwhile, his right hand, still pointed right at your core, pokes through your panties swift enough to deepen their reach. Your pussy is all sticky against the cotton, with the blotch of the fabric getting large enough to seep down toward your ass. Before, the wetness had been thin and trickling, but now grows much more viscous and lubricating.

The resulting slick noises are making you feel more turned on than embarrassed. Baekhyun has somehow managed to make it sound more sexy than you thought it could be.

His eager, lowered brows moving along in the smallest arches with every dip only contribute to your legs drifting further apart. Although he is still kneeling as before, he’s hunching forward now. His eyes are stuck on you like magnets. Baekhyun is mesmerized. Either of your inner thighs can feel his breath. Your left thigh even gets a little tickle by his hair strands, right where you are sensitive.

„Baekhyun, ah shit—!”

It’s so hard to hold it together. With an erratic buck out of nowhere, your hips skew Baekhyun’s aim to the upward right. His fingers end up pressing right into your outer labia with the same momentum he just used on your entrance.

You gasp out. Before he can even apologize, you secure his hand right in the spot with your own.

How fast your reflex was rips Baekhyun’s eyes from your pussy and gives you a spike in adrenaline. His surprised face makes you strangely horny.

„No no, go on,“ you bring his fingers right into place. „Squeeze my lips. Please make them really swollen. I want them as red as the candy apples you saw at the fair. Make them so you’ll want to have a big juicy bite.“

„Oh, you can bet.“

The usually so light and sweet smile that Baekhyun carries so often becomes a lot darker, sexier now. His eyes are like two pieces of coal from underneath his bangs. There’s no doubt in his tone. He will execute everything you say to the last drop.

You can already tell what you got yourself into. Ambition is something that you can leave to him. You gave him enough food to chew and devour. Suddenly, Baekhyun’s pussy crazy face is something you want to provoke even more.

„Show me how much you love them. Don’t hold back.“

„I won’t.“

„Make it really filthy for me. Do it like worship.“

„Time for some lip service.“

Baekhyun’s left hand wanders down from your clit. Together with his right hand, it digs into the fabric of your panties to get hold of your labia. One between his thumb and index each, he gives a juicy squeeze to test them, gathering them up in their full fleshiness.

They’re too wet for Baekhyun to have enough grip on them if he just pinches them from either side. He has to use three fingers at once and even succeeds in pulling them forward just enough to have your clit enclosed behind them.

The crotch area of your panties is not wide enough to cover your lips like that. With Baekhyun massaging their inner edge with both of his thumbs, you soon have to deal with the soaked fabric no longer veiling the entire area. The craving in your voice almost takes you aback.

„Shove it to the middle, now. Let me feel your hands. Skin to skin. Do it.“

Baekhyun instantly complies. He centers and lines your panties across your clit that gets a bulky, rubbing coverage that way, all while exposing your bare lips on either side. The fabric stretches across your pussy almost like a thong. The unspoken wow on Baekhyun’s lips does not escape your attention. Nor does the way his tongue darts out. The way he brings his hands on your labia makes your body jerk and wind, twisting the towel underneath your back. His face is so much closer, both the warmth of his breath and the heat of the friction of his fingers makes your arousal pool into even more wetness.

„We’ll change this up,“ you say, catching Baekhyun fully alert.

„Tell me.“

You’re sweating. The idea that comes up in your mind is so many times dirtier than what you first thought while he was kissing you at the carousel — that you have to gather your breath several times.

„Tug here,“ you bring Baekhyun’s left hand to the front part of your underwear. „Pull it upwards. And press my lips together with one hand.“

Bringing up your panties this way leaves the middle line of fabric thinner, as well as tight and squeezing around your clit and labia minora. It slides between your ass cheeks and pulls against both of your holes at the same time.

That way, Baekhyun has an easier time squeezing the outer lips together quite firmly. They’ve become pink and red like ripe strawberries. Your pulse is racing like crazy.

How Baekhyun presses them with his fingers curling forward, your clit becomes even more closed in. Both the tightened up fabric digging into its sides as well as from the front, and the grip of Baekhyun’s right hand on your entire pussy leaves it attacked from all angles. The squeeze is strong and far too delicious.

„Fuck, so lewd, fuck!“

The arousal is like a luscious burn spreading. But it doesn’t sting or rub your clit enough to give it relief. You’re left in limbo, with your pussy lips growing plumper in Baekhyun’s never-tired, busy fingers. You want him to eat and slurp you up whole and stuff his mouth full, and have him trail his cotton candy tongue all over your big clit, but know very well that you’d come in seconds and probably pass out. Your legs twitch far too much already.

„Pause. I’m, I’m not gonna let you eat it for now. For now, Baekhyun. But you know how it would be like.“

Baekhyun stops. He very well knows.

„Your lips, they—“

You wish you had his cock between them and you know he knows, too.

„Need a good filling,“ you whisper to him. „A big one. Big and glazing and oozing.“

Pouring out as much as possible. You can picture it so well. Baekhyun hums right along.

„Yes, Y/N.“

„I can’t wait for much longer. You have something for me?“

„I have.“

Baekhyun’s fingers loosen carefully now. Slow, as not to give you the accidental push over the edge now that the pressure on your clit subsides and it becomes sensitive, easy to set off. Eventually, he is able to let go completely without triggering your orgasm. It leaves you throbbing and even hornier than before.

„Do you want to, or should I?“ he points toward the hem of his pants. You both end up smirking a little to yourselves. You know it’s your favorite part.

„Won’t be taking chances with this one,“ you breathe out, then scoot forward from your recline to hook your fingers at his abdomen. Time to inspect. It’s a welcome break to let your clit off the hook a bit. He’s even warmer than his wrists there.

You only realize that there’s no reason for him to wear boxers underneath when you’re already halfway nearing the spot that seems too bulged out for your own good. Way too bulged out. Shoving Baekhyun’s pants down to his knees entirely, you get to see that Mr. Kim’s engineers really did overwork themselves.

Just as you requested, this part of him has been left deliberately hybrid — the skin showing an actual silver-blue sheen from underneath. Inside, you see copper and titanium-plated ligaments and movable layers that intertwine like fish scales. Outside, a highly elastic blend of silicone and texture-giving material. It’s matte and a bit opaque, but still akin to actual veins being visible in how it’s sculpted.

Baekhyun’s subtle curve looks remarkably elegant. Almost mathematical. You could put his dick next to the Fibonacci Spiral and it would be uncanny.

Now with his trousers removed, you see how easily everything rises and expands even more. The layers inside his cock glide alongside each other seamlessly without the startling noise you expected them to make. Their sound is absolutely minimal.

„That’s the dick I wanted.“

„All for you, Miss. Try it out.“

Chapter 7: Custom Shapes

You can’t resist the urge to touch him, trace a finger across the right side. How easy to the eye the material appears is evenly matched by how soft and smooth his entire length is, peaking in a subtly formed tip with cascading angles. Neither too broad nor bulbous, nor with a protruding edge, promising an easy insertion and smooth thrusts. There’s a deliberate bit of foreskin adhering to it, closing the transition between tip and shaft in a harmonious way. You love his cock. But one thing you want to kick yourself for.

You’ve entirely overestimated yourself in terms of how many inches you want him to get like an idiot. Not to mention the girth.

It’s almost as big as your whole fist. He’s going to absolutely destroy you. You feel your hands starting to shake. The adrenaline drops into a panic.

„It’s too big, Baekhyun. I’m scared.“

„Y/N…“

„I’m really not used to this. It’s going to hurt me.“

Even before you finish speaking, he immediately shakes his head.

„No, no, I’m sorry if it comes across as that. I can make it squeeze more easily if you want. I can do that.“

„Can you?“

„That’s what the plates inside are for. You can try it out. Press it if you want.“

Calming yourself feels hard to do right now. But you follow his suggestion, giving the middle part a proper squeeze. First hesitant, but then, more firmly.

Kinetic memory, you remind yourself.

And he didn’t lie. Everything becomes a lot more malleable than you thought.

The little scale parts visibly rearrange. Where you apply pressure, and it’s still not much at this point, the girth recedes, and slowly bulges back out after you retreat your fingers again.

„So… okay. Okay. It does feel different. That’s working. But it’s still really huge…“

Baekhyun comes to assuage you with his voice now.

„I’m not going to rip you apart, okay. It also doesn’t expand back once I’m inside you.

„It doesn’t?“

„I can make it adapt to how you want it to be.“

The plating does look like it allows for a lot of flexibility. And decent elasticity for that matter. You soothe yourself by squeezing him again, watching the diameter contract inside your palm.

„That’s, that’s good news. And I thought I’d get impaled.“

„It has a metal core but it doesn’t necessarily stay the same,“ Baekhyun continues. „If you want to take it into your mouth, I can do that as well and make it smaller.“

„It’s what I’ve been thinking. I’d get lockjaw otherwise. You have one fat monster.“

Whatever you were thinking when you gave him almost an underarm worth of length on the website, something got the best of you — despite things being so predictable and his customization being entirely up to you.

„I hope I didn’t scare you too much.“

Baekhyun himself reaches down now to squeeze his cock next to your own hand until the copper layers contract. The firmer he does it, the more it adapts. It’s like he said. Maybe you can actually fit this. A big lump that’s been coiling up in your stomach slowly dissolves with that thought.

You also notice that Baekhyun is completely still even if you’re practically in a death grasp around his dick. Anybody else would be squealing and writhing. You again realize. He feels absolutely nothing.

It is all meant just for you.

You have to get that fact into your head. It’s all crafted for your enjoyment. Of course it’s not going to be some immovable way-too-large-dildo attached him. For the amount of money you paid, anyways. You could swear a third of your budget was used to give Baekhyun a high tech wonder wand.

„The good thing,“ he says, „about being made instead of born is that it can be three in one. I know why men easily envy pleasure models who are built in such a way.“

Wait a second. You perk up. What does that mean.

„Three in one… sizes?“

„Exactly,“ Baekhyun begins to recount. „Mister Park phrased it like this. A big girth to look at, medium size for penetration, and a shorter version for oral. Especially if you are concerned. You have a strong gag reflex.“

It’s hard to believe your ears right now.

„How—How did you—“

„While I was making breakfast. I looked into the freezer to see if we have pizza for lunch. And I saw your box with mixed brands of popsicles.“

„Oh…“

That box.

„The smaller ones are almost all gone.“

He must’ve looked at the back of the box where the types of ice cream are all listed.

„Yeah. The mini cones and such.“

And the sandwiches with three types of ice cream inside. Chocolate, vanilla, strawberry. Your favorites. But why would that even matter? You look at Baekhyun completely incredulous. What on earth was he getting at?

„But the elongated ones,“ he draws an approximate image into the air with his index, „that you have to squeeze out of a tube are untouched. It’s the type of ice cream that you have to wait to melt to rise up from the paper wrap. And when they do and you squeeze, it can shoot up suddenly. That can be uncomfortable to eat for some people. If you have a sensitive throat, you’ll avoid it.“

You feel caught for something you didn’t even commit. How could he make such an accurate conclusion based on what you didn’t eat? You already saw at the funfair how easily he could look up information about food on the spot. Maybe that’s exactly what he did. But still, he connected two seemingly unrelated things without breaking a sweat. He’s really learning fast.

„I’m dating Sherlock Holmes.“

The colorful breakfast fruit plate Baekhyun served up was too delicious to notice that he’d already inspected and organized every inch of your kitchen. Not to mention he was wearing one of your cute aprons with little dancing piglets and sheep on them which distracted you until the toast got cold.

„I’m not going to ignore the hints if they’re right in front of my eyes. Avoiding your discomfort is my first priority.“

You go figure.

„So… you can make it even more perky, then?“

„Not to an extreme degree. But molded to the width of your jaw and teeth,“ Baekhyun points at your chin. „So it will slide in and out very easily.“

„Oh, alright?“

You raise your brows. So it can actually change its shape even more than how he just showed you. You’re starting to like this.

„It’s not going to be painful or make you choke unless you push for it. But when I decrease the length, that shouldn’t happen anyway.“

It really does seem practical. Three in one. The perky version for oral. Why not, the best of all worlds. It’s an advantage of technology, as weird as it sounds.

You mentally send blessings to whoever in the testing department had the guts to brief the colleagues that the big girth version is more eye candy rather than recommended for use. You’d probably clamp up or scream the roof down if he fucked you like that. Let alone do deepthroat.

„Does this mean… you can make it an imprint that fits my mouth? Can I see it?“

He’s really making you curious. You’ve indicated a vague idea of something like that in the questionnaire, but never assumed that the engineers would bother making it into something complex. Up until now, you have to urge yourself to not underestimate how easily inspired they must have been. Somebody really went off.

„I can give you a short demonstration if you help me a little,“ Baekhyun reaches for the towel at the end of the bed, drying off his hands with gentle rubbing motions.

„Okay, just tell me.“

„All you have to do is take it in very slowly. And consistently. It will shape itself that way. I’ll have to give you a few pointers. Can I do that, you want to try this?“

„Sounds good.“

„You can always pinch here if you don’t want to anymore,“ Baekhyun indicates a spot at his right thigh that is just within reach.

„I got it. Just pinch,“ you repeat for yourself, and settle to get comfortable, push your hair out of your face.

At first, positioning yourself is a little difficult because you have to bend forward from your own seated position to reach his crotch, but you end up figuring it out without having to put strain on your foot.

Little by little, you guide in Baekhyun’s tip.

It immediately begins to waver and bend inside your mouth. Meanwhile, judging by the little nestling and a soft tug at the back of your head, Baekhyun has used the hair tie to pull your hair into a ponytail.

While you had immediately laid the tie aside after he returned from the bathroom and forgot about what it was supposed to do out of nervousness, he kept an eye on it.

Baekhyun is that motherfucker, you say to yourself. Let’s do this.

Given that the keyword seemed to be consistency, you remind yourself to keep going stably, keeping your lips loose around him. As if you were eating an ice cube, you avoid using your teeth like hell. You must look ridiculous opening up this wide.

„Don’t worry about scraping me once or twice, the silicone is sturdy,“ Baekhyun says, letting his right hand glide under your jaw. „Prop your chin on my palm. I show you how wide you have to open to make it comfortable.“

Whatever sturdiness there is supposed to be, all you feel is the slightly velvety surface of his cock’s underside lathering against your tongue. You would have thought it takes some lube to make it glide, but it’s not as painfully dry as you thought. Neutral it does taste, but it’s not a desert dry material.

With Baekhyun’s hand under your jaw, you get a better sense of opening up soon. He’s really touching you very gently.

„You feel how it re-forms itself, right. Is it okay like this?

„N—hm.“

„Keep sliding it in for just a little more. You’re doing great.“

Doing so is really surprisingly easy. Where you thought his dick would bump against, there’s basically nothing happening at all.

„Excuse me when I say that. You have a perfectly shaped mouth cave,“ Baekhyun smiles. „But I already know from kissing you.“

What must have sounded like the creepiest compliment in any other situation actually makes you hum and smile a little. You begin to understand just how seriously he seeks to map out your body. Nobody has ever truly bothered to do that.

In the meantime, you notice your nose approaching a dead stop at his loins and your lower lip pressing against what must be the most supple balls of all time. You’re sure that he didn’t make those shrink.

„They’re as big as they were before,“ Baekhyun confirms, vigilant eye he is. „The rest is already close to fully imprinted by now. I just need you to move your head back and forth a little. That helps me gauge how you angle it and what your lips tend to do. Add a bit of variation if you want.“

Doing just that proves to be more fun than you thought. You bop your head a little slower, a little faster. Shallow, then all the way to have your forehead meet his abdomen. It really is… easy?

His size has decreased significantly. You didn’t gag at all so far. Baekhyun doesn’t feel as if he’s just stuck there and ramming in. That you’ve already taken his entire length in so early makes you feel really accomplished, too.

While you move your head, you can feel his dick change a little on your tongue. You even let it slide in sidewards to poke into your cheek, then pull out to kiss the tip of his dick, making Baekhyun smile even more brightly.

„I see you’re good at this. And I really love your lips. They’re pretty.“

You inspect the very slicked up shaft before you with great interest. Without really going at it fully, you already really salivated a lot on it. But even more notable is the unusual shape it’s changed into. It’s assumed a downward curve and has dents where your tongue and teeth were located a second ago. The tip is also much more streamlined. It could probably reach down your throat a little more without having you coughing all over the place.

„The imprint is done, right? That looks really impressive.“

„As good as finished. I save that in my memory data. It can reform at any time you wish it to.“

So that’s part of kinetic learning, too, then — custom dick shapes.

„Mh, interesting. Thanks for doing this, Baek.“

You straighten from your former position and smile at him.

„I might use a similar shape if you ask me to do anal. Just slightly larger. I think I can fit into you very well overall.“

As if he couldn’t be any more adorable, he puts his thumb up with the most innocent face.

„Oh man. I’m so glad I got you, Baek.“

He’s very well read that your questionnaire had a clear preference when it comes to butt stuff.

„Thank you very much. If you want to do this often and get a little practice, I can even help you slide it down your esophagus a little more. I promise you won’t gag or get narrow.“

You don’t doubt it’s possible anymore. Who knows what other freaky templates he can bend into.

„This dick really is magic,“ you lick off some excess saliva from your lips.

„All it is is being designed so you can do whatever you want with it. Everything to your liking.“

You scratch your head.

„And I thought I’d get into trouble doing this.“

Lord knows every blowjob so far has landed you in making a scene or teary eyes. Especially if you tried to shove it down even if you couldn’t reach balls deep. Silly ambition again. And you thought you’d quit this all together.

„Just because you have a limit to depth,“ Baekhyun wipes a little thread of spit from your chin, „doesn’t mean you have to do away with your oral fixation. I really saw you having fun trying different techniques. And it looked like it was very pleasant stimulation for your tongue and saliva flow. If you want do this, you can always ask.“

You get a little flustered at him saying that. Not that he’s wrong. In any sense at all, actually.

„I think you’ll have to get ready to be in my throat a lot during the mornings. With my favorite cherry lube.“

Oh god. That is going to be… very slobbery and heated.

Nothing screams more ‚already am, come get your face fucked at 4:15AM I don’t care‘ than Baekhyun’s eyes right now.

„If you want something tasty before breakfast I’ll have no problems preparing that also.“

He does an invisible hat tip. So serving up fruit is not exclusive to the kitchen then. You find yourself getting euphoric.

„And… we will get to anal some time,“ you mumble under your breath. „Put some prep stuff on our online grocery list.“

„Yes, Ma’am. Just noted. I hope I can thrill you.“

As if you were getting into your car for the first time all over again, Baekhyun dons his best butler voice and you’re starting to fancy it.

„With that wonder boy you have in your pants, I’m thinking I met my match, you know.“

The type you wanna say I do to in a special ceremony separately.

„Precisely how it should be.“

„And, Baekhyun… With the special request idea. I don’t know how to say it. I want to extend this a little to oral as well. Maybe even today.“

„Will get back to it in about an hour.“

So he’s already calculated the route, then.

One hour sounds like a challenge to you, but at this point: You might as well trust what he’s got on his mind. He estimates you better than you do yourself anyway. You’re glad you didn’t move to penetration right away to begin with. Your pussy had enough time to calm down a bit. The swelling is still very much there, however. And your panties are nothing short of a mess. They’re basically sopping.

„As for going on now… I probably don’t have to tell you how wet I am,“ you take a deliberate look down your thighs.

„If you want to know my exact train of thought. I’ve already planned when I’ll wash your ruined underwear. 3:30PM.“

You have to giggle. The mere thought of that image. And he’s really taken over the household like a whirlwind.

It’s time you get to your part of the equation again. Mr. Kim’s imperative returns to you. Your turn to give Baekhyun some more input. With a dick like that, you can think of more instructions than you could list in one go. You build yourself up and place your hand just where you cupped his chin during your kiss on the fair.

„Then I plan you take them off — at now PM.“

You can almost hear a series of programmes running behind Baekhyun’s flickering eyes. Who knows what he is analyzing in his head again. Eventually, he flashes his cute little smile again and ushers you.

„Here?“ He questioningly points back to the center of the sofa where you started out, and you lie down right there.

Funny how much you sidetracked and moved around in the meantime.

Not thinking about transitioning into another position has made it much more effortless and nowhere near as awkward as you thought it would be.

And in hindsight, you were easily swayed into an unexpected intermezzo. Guess you love sucking his dick already. Which is just how Baekhyun offered it to you. All yours. Big and fat and bendy and perfect, morphing itself in whatever makes you hot. You want to shout it from the rooftops, right at all the Mister Lees of the world.

But upon second thought? Better not tell especially your nosy friends from work how hooked you are before they ask for more details.

Hwasa means well, but she would end up telling your damn boss by accident or something. Or Taemin, he would gossip about it on his twitter without name-dropping you, but everybody would know regardless. Meanwhile, Xiumin would make a vlog about „How To Perfectly Clean Your Flat“ and mention it in passing. Chen’s wife would watch it and tell Chen and Kai. Kai would absolutely tell Hyuna and Lisa. And Hyuna would absolutely tell Lay, and Lay would tell Kai, and by that time, the president would probably know.

Treasuring this all for yourself seems like the better thing to do. You want to protect Baekhyun even if he’s the last person on the block who probably needs it. Maybe it’s also a sense of protecting yourself. Maybe some of your friends wouldn’t be averse to getting a leisure bot themselves, but the rest of them still prized even their toxic partners as better than someone like Baekhyun, even if his kind had been part of the society for long enough.

You take note of making impromptu experiments like that for the future regardless.

By now, Baekhyun undresses you fully. Steady hands, steady eyes. Giving your legs a lusciously slow caress that gives you goosebumps. Pulling down your panties with a lot of deliberation, and giving you a good view of his cock. It’s shaping itself back and grows a little again, adding in girth and becoming less streamlined. It curves upward now, revealing a very plump and tight set of balls underneath. You’ve briefly felt them, but didn’t have the chance for a closer look. Now that you think about it, they’re even bigger than before. How it happened, you don’t know.

They seem to be pulsing and turning something white and silver metallic on the inside now. Making them appear… even larger. Two generous scoops of light pink seaside parlor ice cream. Discernable as a pair, but still perfectly one like a pillow. Not sagging very far down even if they seem to move around quite easily. They can probably slap and cushion against your clit if you go for doggy style with decent speed. The noises would be so nasty, you’d have to record it. You curse your foot for not permitting that anytime soon.

So— that thought will leave you high and dry for some time, then.

Makes that damn Achilles’ Heel getting his ever-loving shit together an even sweeter feat to look forward to, actually. So Baekhyun can really drive it home. You get kind of heated at that image in your mind. He is great at giving it to you from behind, you just know it. Now, everything he does well. But this one in particular. You get all sweaty with that idea again.

Baekhyun is still all the way preoccupied with pulling your panties past the knees, upbeat and kind in his expression. And calm, endlessly calm. Every movement, it’s all in perfect ease. You look like a jittery mess compared to him on your back right now.

„Shit, man,“ you bite down your lips after a desperate sigh. This couldn’t be any more tantalizing.

Chapter 8: The Bigger Picture

„Should I stop?“ his hands linger at your ankles, panties almost stripped off your legs. You can already feel the relief of not drowning in yourself anymore.

„No, I,“ you shift around on your back. How the hell do you explain this. „I wish I could stay calm like that, I’m not gonna lie to you. Sorry if I’m one of those bot envy people.“

No use in beating around the bush. He’d read it out of you anyways.

„And I wish I could shake as beautifully as you, you see.“

A comforting eye smile rises underneath his bangs. It gets a hold on you in a way that’s inexplicable.

Don’t you remember him with the cotton candy taste, you think. If anything, the envy is mutual. You’re pretty slow.

He’s trying his best to understand you.

You might want to start reciprocating that. Baekhyun can’t feel human happiness. But he can feel like he’s fulfilling his task. So help him with that, for God’s sake. Your part of the equation isn’t done after paying some money and taking him home or whatever. Being with a bot is more than that. He doesn’t have the needs of a human, but there are conditions that have to be met regardless.

„Point taken, Baekhyun.“

His cheesiness is cute. No use in not trying to tremble either, then. You can’t be him and he can’t be you. Might as well embrace yourself so he can work with it.

Baekhyun finishes the swipe of his movement and settles more closely, sitting on his heels just as before. You’re starting to think that it’s his signature posture.

„And I don’t mind if you envy me,“ he says, offering his hands for you to hold.

„You don’t?“

„There’s cold envy and there’s warm envy. It’s all about how much you like the person. You don’t hate me, right.“

„No, how would I? I really— like you.“

You close either hand around his.

„Then it’s warm envy,“ Baekhyun nods.

„I think… I understand.“

„And you need to know that I adore you also.“

A little squeeze of his hands accompanies his words. You’re caught off guard. All you can think of as a reply is a nod, unable to meet his eyes. You’re at a loss of words entirely. Here you go again.

Maybe the time has come that machines have a better grasp on emotions than humans. They have to teach it back to them.

You try to hide your embarrassment by a little stutter, but he’s already lowering his head down to you, again facing you close by. Close enough for you to see the light golden fuzz of his skin that actually almost seems silver under the artificial lighting of the room.

„So if you want me to do anything for you. Just do the same thing as before. You’ve done it well.“

„I don’t think so,“ you chew at your bottom lip, very well convinced that all you did was being a mess. Baekhyun must be seriously frustrated with this amount of all-too-human chaos.

„There are clients that take at least four to five trials to instruct their leisure models properly. You’ve already managed at first try, you see.“

Your jaw legitimately drops. Probably even lower than when you saw Baekhyun step out of the capsule.

„Five attempts?“

„Some send their bots back because they can’t get themselves to do it at all,“ he affirms. „But either way, those are likely the clients who’d rather apply to purchase automatic models in the first place.“

Automatic models.

You remember. Now you count one and one together — Mr. Kim talked about these bots. You never even realized. The ones seemingly everybody was ordering which drove the whole faculty staff into an endless scientific boredom.  

„Most client requests we get want some kind of he-man. They only spend twenty minutes customizing their bot on the website, if not less. Our engineers rarely get to equip a bot with so much pizzazz.“

In fact, these are the bots of a cheaper price range that run on the exact same automatism over and over for the lack of not having any other programming or sentience.

You don’t have to look no further than imagining that they work like a generic sex toy. They’re just in humanoid shape. A fruit plate for breakfast they can’t serve. They don’t have any interest in cotton candy either. The client can only switch them on for intercourse and enjoy maybe two or three default positions at best before their bot goes back to sleep again. They don’t talk freely, they don’t think, they don’t ask questions. They do their job, but they’re not…

Boyfriends.

You suddenly don’t regret spending forever at the PC to fill in forms and paying a lot more money to the faculty anymore.

„What? That’s insane. I never knew.“

How lucky you are to have Baekhyun is an overwhelming thought. If you’re entirely honest with yourself— it even gives you something that feels like butterflies. It’s strange.

„We non-automatic models can only do what we’re supposed to when we get asked.“

„Yeah.“

„Even most things a client requested in the past can’t be done again without a second permission. You have to instruct us in every new situation.“

„Yes, Mr. Kim really emphasized that.“

You feel better knowing that you have read between the lines correctly. Mr. Kim said a lot of things that sounded very complex and removed from daily life, but he managed to convey the most important thing about Baekhyun.

„I have always heard from Mr. Park that many female clients who give their bot back aren’t even the type of person who has troubles speaking their wishes. They don’t have any wishes at all. I think they’ve given up on themselves.“

He looks so downtrodden saying that. The image in your mind looks just as depressing. You want to curl yourself up.

„Wow. Wow, that… sounds scary.“

„Already by law, we can’t dictate them what we want as a replacement for their lacking preferences. Even if that is what they’re expecting. And then, they blame it on us if we stay passive during sex. It’s an unfair game.“

You can already picture how many cases like that must’ve happened.

Mr. Kim was absolutely right to let non-automatic bots decide over who they want to match with or not.

For way other reasons you had naïvely assumed. To be fair, you are still a beginner with this and AndroTech’s terms of service page was a jargon novel in font size 4, bearable as a skim at best.

„So it would even break the law,“ you find yourself even more startled. „To engage in acts that were not… requested on the spot?“

„Yes. But it’s not all clear-cut. Some bots are enabled and do try hard to read their client’s true wishes out of them, and they take the lead to get things started. Especially when a client is extremely nervous on the first day.“

„Oh…“

„You’ve seen me do it with you. How to touch you, whether I can drive and cook for you, how we relax before sleeping. You saw that I was forward with you to take the pressure off. I even picked you up without asking.“

„Yeah, I saw. I understand it now.“

Pretty much from the very first moment. Baekhyun probably knew you didn’t want to walk the corridors to the faculty exit the moment he looked at you. And he did take the lead, and asked about your every reaction hoping he anticipated exactly the right thing you didn’t dare voice.

„Which can be uncomfortable, but the client very clearly has something in mind and they end up saying it. But you can’t use coercion or skip that they say it.“

You give a small „M-hm“ in response and feel the guilt rush over your face.

„That shyness or shameful feeling at the start we can deal with. But in other cases, a person only wants the bot to tell them what to do. Which we’re not allowed to,“ Baekhyun’s voice shifts to a much graver tone. „We are the ones who adapt to the client. We don’t have a motivation to give orders, either.“

„Motivation?“

This keeps on getting more and more puzzling.

„If you can’t feel something, you can’t desire something. Take me— I don’t know what a sense of satisfaction is. And our base programming is to be of service. Even if we did something random that we saw fit just to give a command. It’d be illegal.“

At first, you wonder why the rule would not apply to the automatic he-man bots, but it was actually making sense. The client had decided on their limited programming. Switching them on was giving permission itself, and they could be turned off at any moment.

Meanwhile, a bot like Baekhyun had variation to his actions and was constantly running on AndroTech’s special power generator, lord knows what it did to run all day. Now, if any of his actions were against your will, or he did something without being asked: He would be taken away from you.

If he gave you a decisive order completely unprompted: His programming would be permanently deactivated almost on the spot, even. Bots trying to guess what their clients had on their mind were walking a tightrope.

„This is a much more serious thing than I thought.“

You puff out. Baekhyun gives a wholehearted nod.

„You can tell we have to be careful to find clients who know what they want.“

„I never thought of it that way. But yeah. I can see how the faculty gets into trouble otherwise.“

„Yes. It’s a huge problem.“

And you were as silly as assuming that bot abuse was the biggest issue in the industry. Turns out clients who want their leisure models to break the law are the real skeleton in the closet.

It’s starting to become a bigger picture to you. The repercussions are so much more expensive and damaging for the company image. A bot that an angry client kicked around was only a nuisance if repair was concerned. The whole thing was kind of bizarre.

„I’ll be very careful,“ you assure. „To fulfill my side of the contract.“

„Y/N. You are the last person who’d concern me. I have been sure from the start that you are the ideal person to be with. It’s why I agreed so fast to Mr. Kim’s question whether I want to match up or not. Most bots will ask Mr. Kim to postpone that question so they can gauge their client in a testing period.“

„They… do?“

„Yes.“

„But I already made a mistake,“ you say, remembering how you started out today. „I don’t think I’m ideal or something like that.“

Baekhyun’s following blink is more than knowing.

„That you question yourself tells me you’re a good client. Bad clients don’t self-reflect.“

Maybe you’ve done at least that right.

„I see?“

„You might become reserved or berate yourself sometimes. But that you wrote down 280 specifics for Mr. Kim tells me everything. Once the nervousness dissolves, you do the right thing already and I see your nature. You wish for a lot of things. That makes you ideal to me. I can take care of this one thing at a time.“

He plants a brief, but passionate kiss on the back of your left hand. The cheesy motherfucker got you again.

„Baekhyun, I…“

„That gives me a lot to work with. I hope you look forward to all this. We’ll spend many great nights.“

His charming little smile and dark eyes are as encouraging as ever. Thinking about the many options of 280 makes you giddy already.

„I do. And… I really want to see how the Special Request feels like.“

Your legs are like squirming jelly at this point. Very much unlike Baekhyun who’s stable and resting — in promise of great stamina.

„I’m ready if you are. I’m sorry if my talking delayed this. But I think some last few questions had to get out of the way. As for the request: There’s not much I need to prepare for it.“

Chapter 9: You Look Really Beautiful

„We’ll be starting with… you know. Lower medium size?“

You shift in the sheets, stuttering that out like a pre-schooler, but who the hell cares at this point. It’s not like you didn’t invent all of this.

„All as you want it,“ says Baekhyun with just the right touch of yielding in his tone. How he makes this sound so impeccably polite is a mystery.

„This is really easy to insert,“ he continues, giving a light caress against your cheek. You don’t miss just how much it is meant to be an encouraging touch. Your face feels tingly.

„Okay, let’s give it a shot, then.“

While Baekhyun reshapes the plates, you recline with your knees pulled toward your torso, making sure to place your wonky foot in an unobtrusive way. So far, it’s only complained while you were climbing around trying to find a position to suck Baekhyun off. Sweet baby Jesus. If your heel would ruin your first time, you’d curse your clumsiness forever and sign up at AndroTech to get your legs android-ized if that were even possible.

You’d probably make a good cyborg now that you think about it. With your new steel-inforced feet and knee caps, you’d be one robot step closer to blowing and riding Baekhyun to infinity until his dick needs repair, which you… already plan to do anyways.

„Can you stimulate me like before, please. Just by using your cock now. I’m so horny for it.“

„Of course.“

Baekhyun glides the tip up and down your outer and inner labia alternatingly, then lets it rub all over your clit. Which happens so smoothly. You’re more than wet. He’s drenched you so hard.

Shit.

It doesn’t take many prods until your arousal returns at its fullest, and Baekhyun strikes a complimenting tone in the middle of letting the underside of his shaft tap against the swelling rose bud.

„Your pussy is really pretty. It’s like pink clouds to me.“

He makes a little innocent face. He’s too adorable. Still, you swallow. So it’s time to bring the funfair to this sofa, then, is it.

„I really— want you to stretch it nicely,“ you grab hold of his cock. „So that the filling can seep in really far. I want a lot of it. And after you filled me, you make me cum.“

„I will, Y/N. I prepared a lot for you,“ he nods. „And it’s enriched with pheromones.“

Pheromones.

So the faculty did find ways to flavor things. Realizing that, you already feel twice as horny as before.

„Shit, it’s gonna smell so good. Put it in, put it in… I want to know how it feels.“

You fumble with his tip at your entrance, and Baekhyun lifts his hips accordingly. It slides in for an inch, giving your entrance an idea of the diameter so far.

While you first squeezed his dick in your hand, the surface felt very matte. Now, with Baekhyun carefully securing his cock between the soft embrace of your lips, it makes for a great sensation of grip and stretch paired with how wet you are. His medium girth is really not bad at all even if it’s downsized. In fact, it’s pushing at your entrance in the juiciest way. With no panties in between anymore. You realize that it’s really about to go down.

„Baekhyun, oh god. Oh god. It’s good. Put your hands around my waist.“

He swiftly does, no second wasted. His fingers, his palms, his wrists— are so soft. You notice that his right hand sits significantly lower than the left one, pretty much on the hip bone. You already want to ask him to move it upwards that you realize he’s seen the scar from your appendix surgery and avoided putting his hand on it.

„Do you want me to slide in more along the way?“

„Yes, more.“

You can tell that Baekhyun knows the exact angle to glide into you. With his hands suavely placed on you now, he adjusts your pelvis without needing leverage. The sheer given shape of his palms has your body melt into the right posture. Eventually, his cock tip makes its way down your walls, bulging them apart. Baekhyun’s length gliding into you has you feel the entirety of his shaft pushing in with a proper thickness. A perfect languid strain, making your pussy feel amazingly filled and bursting with veiny, girthy cock.

„Fuck. Please use your fingers, Baekhyun,“ you gasp out, feel your lungs contract. „And kiss me all over.“

He keeps on sliding in. Leaves little kisses on your nose and sweat-glazed collar bones, breasts, neck. His plush little lips make pecking noises that sound all the way dirtier when he turns them into desperate moans. Baekhyun sure knows how to push your buttons. You’re about to go nuts entirely.

One hand leaving your waist, he adds a consistent stroke at your clit until he surprises you with slowly hitting balls deep.

Already?

„I’m in. How does it feel?“

It really is good to insert.

The heat from your clit mixes with the satisfaction of Baekhyun now being fully curved inside you. He was so much easier to take than you were afraid of.

„It’s amazing to me.“

A squeeze from your muscles comfortably locks Baekhyun, who gently lowers his posture above you, in the spot. Just enough for you to let your fingertips ghost over the center of his abs. His body is so warm, almost heated.

Then, you reach for his face and kiss him deeply. His tongue immediately picks up your pacing, swirls around yours in an intricate dance. The passion overflows. You want so much more.

„Start thrusting. Stimulate me.“

Accompanied with a faster flick of his fingers on your clit, Baekhyun lets his cock pulse in and out of you without removing much of its length. The inward tug at your walls pushes your womb along with it. Baekhyun’s width is just right in spreading your pussy apart, and how he gets you off brings more slickness to each thrust. You feel yourself getting really swollen up and bubbling wet, even more than before.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

„Make it grow a little,“ you push the words past your tense jaw. „And then give me the first special request.“

Again, he doesn’t hesitate. The sudden growth spurt takes a bit off the speed out of Baekhyun’s plunge, but soon increases again. It’s because his cock has started to leak inside, pouring more and more lubrication around itself.

„Is that good?“

His thrusts make the velvety liquid surface at the base of his cock. Very slowly, but surely. He’s fucking it out of you so well. Almost instantly, the smell is intoxicating. A hefty concoction of vanilla, fruit, and something very sharp and musky layered over it. A very masculine and upbeat spice that is like an electric current. The liquid keeps oozing from your entrance with every thrust, bringing more of the scent to live.

„Fuck. Please more. That’s so good. Hold me when I buck up, Baekhyun!“

The special request is nothing but a liquid mechanism that lets Baekhyun pump you full of milky white pre-cum. Whenever you want, mid-fuck at full speed, or as a quick filling without much prep. With a big load or just a little portion as lube, anything goes. Baekhyun has to refill the material with special cartilages every now and then, but it’s compressed like the foam of a whipped cream bottle. Just a lot more fluid. And way, way too loaded with artificial pheromones for your brain to handle. Your pussy explodes with oozing pre-cum and the tension of pleasure alike. You really can’t handle it. Still dizzy from the kiss, your tongue is all loose and erratic anyway.

„Not, ah—! To ask for something I can’t handle for the twentieth time or something! Fucking shit!“

You take a deep breath. Even a fast look between your thighs has you clenching. Everything is so creamy. And sticky. And milky. All with his cock buried right in the soaking middle of it. Baekhyun really gave you a full-on A class preview for the special request.

„Ask away. Even if it’s unrealistic. I make things feasible. That’s my job if anything,“ he looks more friendly than ever at you. Mr. Kim couldn’t sport a smile any better. Jesus Christ, he’s patient with you.

„I think I got some greed but, uh.“

„No worries. I can work with that. Greedy girls are the best girls.“

„Can you just, cockwarm me and give me another load. With the— bigger… version. If that doesn’t get me to the ER. I just want to try it for a minute or two even if it’s too big. You probably know if I’m built to do that better than me though.“

By the knowing look he gives you, Baekhyun indeed does.

„That works, I already calculated that. You’re stretched enough. If we don’t do it for long and I’m not moving, you’ll just feel really stuffed and full.“

„Exactly what I’m wanting,“ you blurt, and your eyes grow all the more impatient.

„Okay. I’ll be holding your legs up a little more for that if it’s alright. Just keep your ankle very relaxed.“

„M-hm!“

By doing that, you realize he changes how you angle yourself at him. You mentally prepare yourself, and already feel him expand inside. That pushes even more of the scented fluid out of your pussy, spreading over his cock. The smell of vanilla and grapefruit, whatever it is, becomes even stronger. Everything pools and drips from his expanding shaft in sticky threads that you want all over you, and in his mouth, his face, everywhere. Your poor pussy is nothing but a lake at this point.

„I’m gonna burst with this inside of me.“

And he really is monstrously big in his full form.

„Almost there. Does it feel okay?“

It grows and grows. Becomes veinier and all slick, bathed in scent and your own pussy creaming it up.

„Shit… that thing is like a spear! Fuck! Keep it, keep it up—!“

He keeps on growing. The stretch of your walls is driving you wild. You can’t even put a proper grip on him with your muscles at this point. All there is — a bulging sensation of your pussy getting filled out all around. It does make you feel tensed up. Even if the surface of his cock feels only a bit elastic, the diameter is too wide at this point.

„It’s a bit uncomfortable if you focus too much there with your muscles,“ Baekhyun says. „Look at my hands.“

Baekhyun circles into your clit with his index. It mixes relief into the stretch. And more pulsing excitement. Just a light caress wouldn’t do it at this point. He knows he has to rub a little faster.

„You’re all… stuck there,“ is all you can moan. He’s grown sufficiently to let your sensitive entrance feel like it’s going to burn up in flames. In its normal state, there’s no way he would get past it in his large size. You don’t even know just how far up he is inside you. If he’d thrust now, your guts would be as ruined as your panties. The flaring sensation of him spreading all inside you is all that you can think of. You’re starting to think you must’ve developed a cock addiction because of those pheromones, the thought of him not being inside of you all day like this sounds terrible.

Now that he’s entirely erect and stiffened, you can tell his dick has exactly the inner metallic strength you thought it had. He’s pretty heavy inside you. You get a buzzing in your head and accidentally shift your hips a little. The feeling that follows makes you gasp.

„That, that’s hitting something. Oh my god. It’s pressing me. Oh my god. What is that, Baekhyun!“

„Your cervix.“

„That’s deep in. Holy shit.“

„It’s really big and puffy. My sensors are liking it.“

So that’s where he is, then. Buried right there. Hitting the spot.

“Hold it there, Baekhyun. It feels so unusual! Please press it a little more.“

Baekhyun shifts his hips himself, causing you to feel the same bump again. It makes your body jerk and takes you by surprise once more.

„I think it likes kissing my tip the way you do with your lips.“

Either you’re imagining things, or Baekhyun actually sounds a bit accomplished.

„What! Does it react?“

„It’s getting increased blood flow and expands around me. If you want, I can rest a little deeper with my tip at the hole in the middle.“

The idea is so filthy knowing he could shoot you up with more pre-cum any second. All of it would spritz deep inside of you, almost the deepest way possible. You picture Baekhyun mixing up a huge load for you, only to pump it all the way through his immense length.

„Please, please do that, please. Push against it.“

„I’ll have to be really careful.“

„Come on, Baekhyun,“ you firmly grip at his hips to pull them down. „Beat my pussy up. It’s deep enough. Give me the whole length.“

That this means going balls deep entirely is making your legs do funny things.

Baekhyun, squeezing in the last inch, finally makes you feel like he’s splitting you apart. From your legs up to your neck, you can feel the strain. Your pussy can barely take it. It doesn’t know whether to fall apart or to tense up. That Baekhyun’s cock tip ever so slowly pushes, then penetrates into your cervix and stays there, neither opening it fully nor just resting loosely against it, sends you all sorts of arousing signals.

„You’re stretching so well. See how amazing your labia look now.“

The sensation of Baekhyun has distracted you entirely from just about anything else. A quick glance tells you it does just look like that. Your muscles are too pushed apart to grasp his dick, but your pussy lips do that job for you. They’re finally getting their right stretch. Plush, and wet, and wide apart, they hug Baekhyun as if trying to pull him in. It’s as if they’re sucking and gargling his cock and spilling saliva everywhere. They’ve grown amazingly plump and red. Two cock-hungry, endlessly greedy girls just for Baekhyun.

„How do you feel? Describe it to me.“

„I’m feeling so, I can’t, fucking crazy! It’s prodding a spot that’s really far up. Oh God. It’s so big. You… fuck… oh— You—!“

„You can call me any dirty names you want,“ Baekhyun lowers his voice. It sounds so naughty and provoking when he does that. „You know that I’m down to be a huge whore.“

The plain sneering delight in his eyes is so intense that your pussy starts to pulsate. That lewd and yearning Baekhyun hiding underneath the cute smexy smile has ambushed you again.

„Give me that slutty look on your face and stroke my belly. Show it. Moan. If you wanna be a whore, do it properly.“

„It’s really bulging out here, Y/N…“

He whimpers, traces his palm across your abdomen, quick to find the spot. It does form a bit of a bump. Even from your position, it’s quite visible.

„Yeah… Look, you did this.“

„Your pussy is so perfect on the inside, too. Really pink and juicy.“

That his tip is currently making cockwarming love to your cervix you can very well feel. The two of them are already headed to be on a familiar basis with each other. You want Baekhyun to smash and jizz it every fucking night.

„If you have some more cum, now’s the moment, Baek. Pound it.“

„One second,“ he jerks at the base, briefly having his right hand leave your waist. You grip at the nape of his neck to pull his face down. You lock lips, and they are so mesmerizing while Baekhyun makes sure to find a nice angle.

With a loud moan into his mouth, you can feel him stuffing your pussy with a shot of rich fluid. The accompanying thrust is strong, steep, and throbbing. It makes you want to mount Baekhyun and fiercely bounce on his dick until cumming all over it, way until collapsing. His cock reaches far enough through the opening of your cervix to fill your womb with its creamy load. The liquid drips against the upper area until it spreads out and leaks down into your vagina. A lake of his semen now pools back and forth inside your spongy uterus, Baekhyun���s cock stirring it with its light pulses and movements. He’s not thrusting, but making sure to keep his dick swaying and prodding just enough to ease your tensions.

„Another load,“ you part from his lips, craving. „Really make it to the brim. Move it once. Push it in… So good, Baekhyun…“

„Okay,“ he hums, and kisses you again, this time making gentle contact with your lips. „I’ll make it really warm and thick.“

„God, yes…“

„Here, are you ready?“

„Fill me.“

Baekhyun’s fat cock delivers a juicy stab, fucking the meaty, veiny width under the tip right into your cervix. Hard and quick, making your toes shiver. The blow pounds and heavily stretches it apart under your deep guttural moans. He’s really deepening his cock almost to the max, and you can feel how stiff and girthy he’s made it become. 

The first pre-cum load allows for a perfect glide already. The plunge is so good. Your cervix now faithfully grips at his shaft, fully lubricated and anticipating, swelling up, greedily throbbing around him so fast. It pulls his cock in the way you want to deepthroat Baekhyun. You repeat and repeat his name.

Finally, a second spurt comes to seep right into you like a waterfall. Baekhyun floods your pussy entirely without holding back. A gushing injection of white streaks and pearls comes to permeate you so deliciously that your heart skips a beat. The spill is much less fluid this time, but runny just like freshly whipped coconut cream, fanning out into little melted clouds. He’s shot what you imagine as more than the amount of a small glass of water into you. You are creamed up to the last millimeter. If he was fertile, you’d be pregnant with a cute little Baek baby in two seconds, and give birth only three minutes later.

„I love it!“

Your pussy walls loosen around him. Even if it means saying goodbye to your filling, now you wanna see how his semen looks like.

„Rest your hand there while you’re pulling out,“ you guide your had toward your abdomen. „You’re gonna tell me the difference.“

With Baekhyun slowly drawing out his cock and letting the vacuum suck the fluid downward, you become giddy. Your cervix refuses to close and instead stays pulsing open, letting all that he filled you with drip out. It’s a pal size puddle. Baekhyun’s dick looks so gigantic and coated now that he pulled out. You can’t believe all of that was inside of you.

„I really hate to leave you feeling empty,“ he says, and massages your belly very attentively.

„I wish your cum could stay inside all day. It’s so warm. I really miss your cock, too. Shit, Baekhyun.“

After some waiting time, his last bits of semen makes its way down. Your pussy gapes enough to let it squeeze out. It’s so thick and white, completely opaque. How good it smells you only register when you’re already hanging at Baekhyun’s lips again. The scent drives you to kiss him again and again, having your hands all over his body, praising him with your moans. He yields into your wild hug and the making out continues until your creampie no longer flows out. Half of your pussy is full of sticky semen still, warming you from the inside. Between your heavy breaths, you realize that Baekhyun’s laser gaze on you have even more craving than before.

„And this is not even the main event,“ he rasps into your ear. „We’re still headed towards the most important thing.“

You shake. His dark eyes set on you like a panther’s. He’s readier than ever. This goddamn robot stamina. Now he wants to fuck you up entirely.

„Make me cum… really hard, Baekhyun.“

„I’ll have you moaning and arching. Tell me what to do.“

„Remember I talked about some Special Request mixed with oral?“

„Very clearly,“ he nods, helping you get up from your back. „I got you.“

„Leave it at big as it is now. Not the full growth but almost there. Really give me a lot of cum, okay. Empty yourself into my throat. You can also fuck my mouth but keep it shallow. You can hold my head later on.“

„All as you like. Here,“ Baekhyun helps you guide the shaft between your expectant lips.

You suck at the tip, but your mouth doesn’t get very far down. The difference to Baekhyun’s smaller, adapted version is extreme to see, to touch, and taste. While you gobble the far end, a generous spurt of cum shoots into your throat already. It pools on your tongue before you swallow three times.

It tastes mild and sweet.

Maybe you’ve been eating too much cotton candy as of recently, but it does bear some resemblance to it. You shake the girth from one side of your mouth to the other, signalling Baekhyun to fill you again. More cum begins to appear, then burst at the roof of your mouth, and you don’t manage to hold in all of it. Thank God the towel is thick enough.

All the jizz expands on your tongue and you swallow faster, with Baekhyun leaking more of his cock milk. You decide to have some fun thrusting your head forward and have the whole thing explode against his loins and your lower face. With Baekhyun’s dick plunging into you deeper, the remaining cum flows past your lips and lands between either of your legs on the towel.

No wonder his balls do their pulsating thing. He has to keep up mixing and pumping everything out. His cock is now so perfectly slippery that you can glide your tongue around it in fast circles. The faster you go, the more his foreskin retracts, revealing the beautiful sturdy glans that provides you with another milky shot against the back of your throat. The mixture is smooth, allowing for an easy big swallow. For some reason, it’s almost like almond milk conditioner diluted with a bit of water.

Baekhyun adding little thrusts to each leaking makes you moan like a pervert. You suck and lick up every incoming bit of fluid properly until gulping it down. At this point, your entire stomach is a sea of white cream. Your mouth feels like it’s drowning in baby lotion, but without the obnoxious taste. Even now, you’re still not tired of bopping your head and blowing bubbles with the amounts of his sperm that gather around the middle of his cock. The more you get into the rhythm of moving your head, the more heated and loud you get.

Puckering your lips adds the right pressure, and you keep your jaw as wide a Baekhyun showed you earlier. The slicking, slurping and glucking noise of the suction is music to your ears. Him spilling out more liquid helps you glaze his length with warm icing now, and your speed is surprisingly high in doing so. You end up sinking your fingertips into Baekhyun’s shapely ass cheeks and hold onto his body like that while blowing him. You feel they are toned and soft at the same time, even more heavenly when you use your entire palms to hold them.

„Great, you’re doing great,“ Baekhyun wipes off a blotch of cum from his belly and lathers his cock up with it, careful not to disturb your mouth at work. „Do whatever comes to your mind.“

As if that praise was not enough, another rewarding fountain fizzes into your mouth. The vacuum from your tight lips resounds almost like a kissing noise. With another moan upcoming, you blurt out the majority of Baekhyun’s load. This time, his legs are the victim of your slobber, getting their first contact with his cum in dripping white stripes. It looks so hot. Looking at his ruined thighs with your saliva and milk on them makes your pussy throb several times.

In the meantime, your lips are left perfectly coated and big, clinging to the veiny surface slightly below Baekhyun’s tip. Especially your lower lip has gotten much plumper and picks up every relief on his dick. You love the sound of him thrusting in his shaft that is met with a little lake of cum at the farther end of your tongue. The more elegantly he helps you plunge in the tip, the better it stirs the fluid and leaves a nice caress at the top of your mouth and the inner corners of your lips. The taste is breathtaking. After swallowing for the seventh time now, you pop his dick from your mouth and distribute the remaining cum on your cheeks and temples by sliding his length all over your skin.

„That feels so good,“ you pat his cock all over your cheekbones, your forehead and the bridge of your nose. You even glide the tip of his cock against your browbone, tracing its lining and have a few little droplets of Baekhyun’s delicious milk dance stuck in your lashes. The fluid leaves your face feel cooled and soft. The matte silicone surface of his length is perfect enough to slowly glide under the guidance of your hand, massaging your face gently and slick.

And then, you get an idea.

„Hold your cock up for me. Maybe make it curve up a little,“ you instruct, take a few breaths to cool down. When Baekhyun is ready, you slide your right hand between your legs and head your mouth for his balls at the same time.

They really are like scoops of ice cream. Enough milk has distributed over them to make your attention of kisses, licks, feathery light bites and sucking very easy. Everything glides, and you love how they vibrate ever so slightly.

„Tell me I will feel this against my clit as often as possible, Baekhyun.“

„Every day if you want. I can make them buzz a little more than that as well. That goes for my cock, too.“

„What— Really! Please do it! And please, more cum…“

And they do. It must be the weirdest thing your lips and the tip of your nose have felt, ever. A million dancing ants start their party on your skin. Alternating between left and right, you give your mouth a proper ice cream feeding. Baekhyun’s cock vibrates along and produces another waterfall of sperm.

While you let the buzzing ripen up your lips with even more swelling, drops upon drops of cum add from above where Baekhyun holds his cock in an almost vertical position. Since its curve bends toward his stomach, that’s where more of his cum lands. You love to observe the milk trickle over the little veins of his loins, his lightly toned abs, and the perfect V shape of his pelvis. With every drop, you rub your clit to new heights and feel it become spongy. You’re so sensitive and wet that it’s harder to get your finger to the right spot, so you end up using three fingers at once.

Baekhyun glazing himself with all that luscious cum makes you want to lick him up whole. On the other hand, his oozing cock spills so much fluid that you don’t want any of it go to waste.

With the flicks of your index finger speeding up between your legs, you ask Baekhyun to stuff and thrust his cock back onto your tongue and provide you with a final wave of cum for good. He dusts over your lashes to remove the spray they took before, then diligently brings his palms around the back of your head. Baekhyun is so utterly careful and sensual in his expression that you have to groan and feel your pussy twitch. His pretty fingers fit so perfectly around the area under your high ponytail. Having his wrists ghost over your temples makes you want to come on the spot. Now that your head is softly locked safe, Baekhyun asks if he can start, earning the most eager nod.

„I won’t make you gag, I promise,“ he gives his fingers a final arrangement, laying flat on your hair.

You feel like you’re about to implode and already drive your head forward. Aided by the slip of your mouth, he pulls you onto his cock, driving in a bit more length. About a third of his cock gets in, and you feel only a slight bit of tension. Your lips close around him, but remain flexible, still. Your hand between your legs rubs faster. And faster. Your clit is begging for a second rush. By the time, your jaw has become perfectly loose and receptive, ready to take a pounding. You moan in frustration from all the suspense, and finally he begins fucking his monster dick into your skull. 

The girth stretches your lips and leaves your mouth completely stunned. Baekhyun properly angles himself into your head and showers you with complimenting little wows, then continues the speed and screwing until half of his dick pumps into your mouth. It’s pushing in and stimulates your lips with every thrust. The buzz is amazing. 

Your throat is perfectly accepting of Baekhyun’s tip. The vibrating stimulation at your tonsils sends excitement through your entire body. His cock is amazingly big, hot, and jittery. When he drills it into you with a little ‚your mouth… so soft… like cotton candy…’ under his breath, you can’t take it anymore.

When your rubs escalate and your pussy begins to contract, he blows up your mouth with an avalanche of extra sticky and flavorful cream. Unlike when he was pumping out the cum against his belly, his cock now powerfully empties in one go and overwhelms your tongue with taste. 

The portion is so huge and almost foamy. Now you’re filled double. Your leaking pussy, stuffed with his bubbling semen, and your mouth, rich with the potent vanilla taste. Your clit thumps hard with a series of twitches, about ten, eleven, twelve times, with another strong rub from your middle finger pushing it over the edge.

The load of cum bursting into your mouth is so large that your cheeks slowly bulge out a bit. Baekhyun holds his cock in place to help you keep it centered. A look at his hands alone is enough to fasten your rubs and make you feel your climax peak. Your eyes get large from the extremity of pleasure surging from your clit, having your body rock, making you yelp out and spill Baekhyun’s semen back over the pulsing curve of his dick. It’s so messy, but you don’t care.

He takes the opportunity to thrust back into your mouth in sync with the twitches of your pussy, blasting your way too impatient esophagus with more sputtering threads of hot milk. Your clit throbs even harder when you hear the wet noises your throat makes. Every thrust has you blowing out cum with stifled, slobbery gargling. Baekhyun penetrates you so well and won’t waste a milliliter of cum. It’s so thick and so good, and distributes so nicely every time he fucks it into your throat a little further. The vibration of his cock makes your tongue so swollen against the underside of his shaft and even more sensitive to how his cum feels.

Liquid satin, gliding so well down into your stomach that you wish he could penetrate, too. You slurp and gobble the last shots of cum, and enjoy Baekhyun’s thrusts feeding you his fully sperm-decorated cock. With your saliva flowing into the mix, the load gets perfectly blended and has you produce the nastiest sounds around the meaty base of his dick. You want to lap it all up, slather it all over you, bathe in it. He drenches your mouth completely. You swallow and swallow until he knows you’re feeling full and stops the flow.

You still try to suck the leftover liquid out of him until only drops remain on your tongue. A final swallow, and you lock eyes with Baekhyun who’s gently smiling and cupping your head.

„B—woah,“ you gush out, slipping your lips off his dick. You look down on your body and Baekhyun’s, finding your skins coated all sticky as if a pot of joghurt spilled all over your chests and legs.

The special request indeed leaves nothing left to be desired.

„Really incredible,“ Baekhyun says.

„Warm…,“ you lick your lips, and shake, move your tongue about to loosen it up. „And so much— Fuck!“

„Not a drop left. I’ll probably need half an hour to gather an amount like that again.“

„I want this all the time. This, this is so much fun.“

„Yes. You were really enjoying yourself. You look really beautiful.“

Probably really messy and funny with your drying lips and tousled ponytail. You have to chuckle.

„Brace yourself, Baekhyun. I hope you have enough hair ties prepared.“

Oh, it’s gonna be a ride.

After you settle your breath, Baekhyun goes about cleaning your face and neck, and bits of your chest. He has to get a third towel from the bathroom to get the job done, including rubbing himself down. As ruined as he looks, AndroTech has to send him into the fucking robo deep cleaning room or something if you keep this up.

Eventually, Baekhyun helps you up the same way he put you down on the sheets two hours ago. You coo to him, and he carries you to the bedroom softly humming. You feel a strange serenity. Protection. Baekhyun looks so sweet and calm. A warm feeling spreads across your abdomen, and you listen to your blood rush in your ears. He really got you going,. He offers a glass of water that you accept and nip at while he sorts his and your clothes, dumping all the towels into the laundry basket and switching off the living room lights afterwards.

Alongside carrying a paddle hair brush, he returns with your favorite strawberry bubblegum chapstick. He must have picked it up next to the washing machine in the bathroom. You keep a little shell-shaped metal bowl next to the basin where all your cosmetics are scattered in. How he knows that it’s your go-to lip product will remain another mystery, although you are sure he has a page-long analysis on it. 

After asking for your permission, Baekhyun applies it for you and makes sure to kiss you not once, but twice. He loosens the tie out of your hair and goes about brushing it, smoothing it. Lying down in your bed for the afterglow with the fairy lights on gets even better when Baekhyun offers his chest to lean against for dozing off.

Chapter 10: Pulling Out The Carrots

You wake up to the smell of waffles and cocoa coming from the kitchen. You sit up in bed. Feeling more gloriously fucked out than fucked up, actually. The floor, even if it’s still the exact same as before, feels different when you set your either foot on the ground. It’s not only your heel feeling at least a little better. It’s also the fact that it’s the ground of an apartment with two people in it.

Bothering to put on socks, you find that your closet has a new stack of clothes where Baekhyun normally sorts in his white vest. So Mr. Kim sent a new batch of attire for him as promised in the email you received last night. Seven sets of midnight blue, carnelian, and more white cuts of similar fabrics and varying shapes. Your closet looks strangely complemented with his clothes in it. Not to mention much tidier since he folded each and every piece.

Before you waddle to the bathroom, you check your phone and see an avalanche of shy emojis from Hwasa in your notifications. You did manage to send a little comment on the sofa before you went to bed.

„Guess whose car is fixed,“ Baekhyun sets a plate on the table. The whole kitchen sizzles and looks as if a restaurant chef just let a huge cloud of steam loose from his souffle in the oven. There’s juice, there’s blueberries, there’s syrup on the table. His smile is even brighter than it was yesterday.

„You gem!“

Falling around his neck makes Baekhyun laugh. You cling in the hug and pepper his forehead with kisses until the waffle machine bleeps.

„Dig in, princess,“ he stacks up three waffles on the plate, golden brown and drizzled with syrup.

„Sit down with me when the last one is done,“ you fork the top waffle, separating it into five hearts each. Crispy outside, vanilla-colored and juicy on the inside. Back in the day when he was still active, Gordon Ramsey couldn’t have done it any better. Baekhyun nods, now busy with a large blue bowl. He’s kept his smile and hums a little. The kitchen radio is playing in the background.

„And something else,“ he swipes the wooden spoon through the bowl. You realize what’s inside. He steps toward the table to masterfully place a generous amount of whipped cream on your stack of waffles.

„What was it?“

„I talked to Mister Lee.“

„You what?!“

With a clattering noise, your fork drops right back onto the plate. If the sweet scent in the kitchen didn’t fully wake you, then this definitely did.

„I first checked the databank as I said,“ Baekhyun puts down the bowl on the table and takes a seat opposite to you. „There was no record of him interacting with androids anywhere. He didn’t own one, nor did anyone else in his social environment or the area around here. Except you of course.“

„A—alright, and?“

Judging by Baekhyun’s picture-perfect appearance that doesn’t seem to sport a single scratch, at least Mr. Lee didn’t get out his golfing equipment then.

„I went over and met him on the porch while he was having his coffee. I introduced myself and asked about his garden.“

„His garden?“

„Mister Lee has taken up quite a bit of work with his vegetables,“ Baekhyun pours some orange juice from a jug into the chunky little glass in front of your plate. „He was busy with carrots yesterday.“

„What— What does that have to do with…?“

„He was huffing out loud because he couldn’t pull out a particularly large one.“

„That’s what I heard when we arrived?“

„Precisely you did.“ As if your jaw couldn’t hang any lower, now you’re also flooded with embarrassment.

„He was squatting right behind the large bush that blocks the view,“ Baekhyun continues. He said he didn’t even hear us arrive because he had headphones on.“

„Jesus, really?“

„I was already wondering why I didn’t notice any danger when we arrived at the house. You only heard the noise and made a conclusion. But actually, Mister Lee was in his own world.“

„Oh…“

„I helped him plug out the remaining carrots just half an hour ago. It was really easy. He gave me a few potatoes from his garden, too. I’ll make you fries for lunch today.“

„You really hear what you want to hear,“ you say to yourself out loud and start chugging the orange juice. Maybe moving into the underground tunnel system you’re planning to build for yourself to disappear from the face of this earth is still a very good idea.

„And don’t worry. I didn’t tell Mister Lee about your reaction. He doesn’t know about the misunderstanding. I just said I heard him shout in his garden and he readily explained what he was working on.“

„That was very sensible, Baekhyun. So I was accusing him for nothing, then.“

You bury your face in your palms. Goddammit.

„Mister Lee is as harmless and unbiased against bots as this waffle,“ Baekhyun points squarely at your plate.

„And I thought this would end up in a fistfight.“

„The funny thing is. Mister Lee said he used to be a boxer back in the 1980s and had muscles like I do. He was really amused how fast I was pulling out the carrots.“

„B-Boxer? Was he trying to intimidate you?“

Maybe you need to muster your rusty karate skills again. Who knows what Mister Lee was really up to. You didn’t know much about his family, but you’re sure a more detailed Internet search would reveal that his grandfather was indeed called Bruce.

„No worries,“ Baekhyun picks up the jar again, re-filling your juice. „He called me a dapper young gentleman and offered we could come over to have carrot cake at 4 PM. He says the house is a little empty since his grandkids moved to San Francisco. Mrs Lee is also looking forward to congratulate us. If you’re free after work?“

„They… invited us?!“

„In the most friendly way possible. And their potatoes are really huge. That’s going to be a lot of fries.“

Looks like Baekhyun has found your neighbors to be much more trustable than your paranoid robot gf brain. Before you can really deliberate whether to say yes or no, your intuition does the work for you and makes your strained jaw blab the words.

„I’m free, sure I—“

The doorbell rings twice, ripping you right out of your thought flow.

Baekhyun swiftly gets up. You already expect Hyuna or Chen with the latest gossip in town about your universally heard late-night moaning noises.

Setting up what feels like another Guinness world record, you stress-eat two waffles at once before readying yourself to get up, too. Another loss of face right around the corner but at least you have something in your stomach and Baekhyun’s beautifully cooked meal isn’t getting cold which would be the ultimate heresy.

To your relief, however, Baekhyun returns with—

A post box.

„Delivery for my princess,“ he chirps from the kitchen entrance. „Wow, it’s really heavy, too!“

„God, I’m a mess,“ you shake your head at yourself.

„Pardon?“

„Nothing, I just said it’s actually for the prince, you know.“

Your castle might be an outdated yellow house, but it has a creaking palace door and splendid clothing parlor. And pancakes for dinner. And the prince has a really big dick, so.

„For— me?“

„Yes, yes. If Mr. Kim can send you something nice, I can do that, too.“

There goes another portion of your salary but fuck it. You act as if you were puffing yourself up a little, with flared nostrils and a dandy eyebrow wiggle. A laughing Baekhyun uses his mere nails to loosen the tape from the packaging in one smooth go, and also doesn’t seem to extend any efforts prying it open. You’ve never seen anyone open a box this elegantly.

„That’s the kind of rivalry between creators I didn’t expect,“ he says. „I hope you’ll like the new clothes, by the way.“

You’re starting to get the hang of this whole bots-and-boredom thing. Keeping Baekhyun on his toes is paradoxically both less and more of a big deal than you thought but you’re working it out.

A note of calling your declared friendly rival Mr. Kim to ask him for a few more pointers is what you decidedly jot down on your own mental to-do list. He explicitly said that Baekhyun can very well explain himself, but getting some more insider knowledge to ambush Baekhyun with surprises doesn’t hurt. And whatever this kinetic learning thing is, you certainly need some more ideas from the source, too.

„You can model them after we return from eating cake.“

„Nothing I’ll love more,“ Baekhyun removes some of the crumpled up paper cushioning inside. Since the box is fairly big, it takes a bit until the content becomes apparent to him. Once he realizes what it is, Baekhyun’s eyes light up and he starts jumping up and down through the kitchen.

„It’s a pink clouds machine!“

boyfriend bot on ao3

NOTE: oof, that’s a big ole fic :D i hope you liked it. talk to me about baek 😭❤️ 

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2020. all rights reserved. reposts prohibited. portrayals are fictional and for entertainment purposes only.

#baekhyun smut #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun #exo smut #exo fanfic #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun au #boyfriend bot #exo sci fi au #exo au #future au

[demonsonthemoon]

Sunkissed, Sunburnt, Soothed

Fandom: Les Misérables Pairings: platonic Jehan & Grantaire, romantic Grantaire/Enjolras Word Count: 2607 Summary: "The first time Grantaire met Enjolras, he felt for a second like he was going blind. Meeting Jehan had been far less dramatic." Or: the story of not-so-healthy relationships, what they give and what they take, the ways they have of being too much and of being not enough. (Featuring Aromantic!Jehan) Note: Dedicated to my friend Caro (@anastasiapullingteeth), forever the Grantaire to my Jehan and a star in my constellation. This fic was a bit rushed to I could put it out in time for #AggressivelyArospecWeek. I definitely feel like the concept deserves a far longer exploration than I gave it here. Also I have no idea whether the POV and style shifts actually work. Do the paragraph breaks work??? I don't know. I just didn't want to think of how to fix them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and don't hesitate to let me know what you thought!

Read it on AO3.

The first time Grantaire met Enjolras, he felt for a second like he was going blind. Like he had just stared at the sun and was about to pay for it. Like the other was a new version of Medusa, turning people to ashes instead of stone.

To be fair, the whole experience may have had something to do with the fact that Grantaire had been well on his way to drunk at the time. Although that didn't explain the continued feeling of being on fire everytime Enjolras looked at him.

Meeting Jehan had been far less dramatic. If Enjolras was the threatening light of the sun faced head on, Jehan was a soft beam peeking above a cloud. He didn't command attention, instead drew it gently with patterned tights, pastel-colored skinny jeans and chunky cable-knit sweaters. Grantaire had taken one look at him and decided he wanted to befriend him. It had something to do with the way Jehan had kept half of his hands hidden in his sleeves, the way his smile had seemed just that little bit uncertain before he let himself be drawn into conversation by Courfeyrac and Bahorel.

Enjolras was so beautiful to look at it often seemed painful. Jehan was a mess of clashing color and haphazard hairstyle, and he was so real it made Grantaire's bones sing.

He had been drunk the first time he had met Enjolras, the first time he had witnessed one of their little meetings from a hidden corner of the Musain. He had been drunk the second time too. Part of his brain had convinced him that the angel, the burning god, would not be there if he came back sober. Part of him had been too scared to face that kind of passion without the flimsy protection of alcohol. Part of him had just been looking for any excuse he could get.

He'd been sober when he'd met Jehan. The young man had joined the group of revolutionaries after Grantaire, although he had been accepted as a friend much more easily. Grantaire hadn't been jealous of that. He could admit he had never made it particularly easy for the other to find him likeable.

Smart people do not bare their skin to the sun at its zenith. They put on a hat instead.

But Jehan had looked past the wide brim of his, had spotted the freckles hiding on Grantaire's nose and had offered to kiss them.

The young man was free with his affection, in that he thought that love should be free. Free to roam and explore, free from the shackles of expectation and propriety. He was free with his love, because he had been told once he could not love right. He had then decided that if he couldn't do it right, at least he would love a lot. Even if it wasn't enough, it would make the world just a little kinder.

Grantaire hadn't ever thought he was able to love in a way that didn't destroy. He had loved laughter once, until laughter had turned into the price he paid for attention. He had loved learning, until learning became the thing he did to prove his parents he was still worth something. He had loved people, and the people had turned into bottles, so fragile between his fingers.

He had loved art. It was the one thing he had managed to renounce before it turned into a blade.

He loved Enjolras.

The truth of that was a block of ice constantly floating around his stomach. It was the kind of cold that burned, and numbed all other feelings at the same time.

Jehan loved him. Not like ice, and not like fire. Not like one romantic lead loved another in all the novels he read.

He loved him all the same.

And Grantaire loved him back, in a way that – for once – didn't feel dangerous. Jehan was the wick of a candle instead of a forest. Sometimes Grantaire resented him for it. Most of the time he was relieved.

They moved in together one day. It made sense for a lot of reasons. Mostly because it was cheaper. But also because they could be there for each other more easily this way. They could keep each other accountable. Keep each other standing. They could promise each other the warmth of another body when they came home.

When one of them offered to share a bed and turn the second bedroom into an art room, it made sense too. So much so that neither of them remembered who came up with the idea in the first place.

It was good. It was nice. In the way that drinking hot chocolate under a blanket while watching the rain outside was nice. It wasn't the same as lazing in the sun, but it was comforting in its own way.

Grantaire hadn't felt like he needed anything else. The grey weather was what he knew, and he would make the best of it. There was a voice in his mind, like the rumbling of far-off thunder, that told him he didn't deserve anything else anyway. That told him he had no choice, that he could learn to swim or drown.

When that voice spoke, when the pain of it flashed like lightning through his veins, Grantaire made Jehan some tea in a quaint little cup, with a hint of honey, and he baked lemon and basil cake.

Then one day the sky caught fire in the most magnificent sunset that Grantaire could have imagined.

Enjolras asked him out for coffee. Not to talk about politics. Not to berate him about his latest interruption during a meeting. Ey asked him out.

Grantaire thought it was a joke at first. He genuinely thought it was a joke, got mad about it and started ranting about how it wasn't funny and he'd expected better from Enjolras.

But it had been real. And Enjolras had been as impassioned as ever when ey had convinced Grantaire that ey was taking this really seriously, that ey was genuinely interested in Grantaire and wanted to give the both of them a shot.

How could Grantaire have said no ?

So they had gone for coffee. And it had been weird at first, but then it had gotten better. If he was honest with himself, Grantaire would admit that he would have gone much further than weird to get a shot at being so close to Enjolras. He called the other Apollo, and laughed when Jehan started calling him Icarus, not noticing the genuine note of concern in his friend's tone.

The one coffee turned into dinner two weeks later, then drinks a week after that, then Grantaire staying at Enjolras' place for the night, then them starting to officially date.

When Grantaire moved out of Jehan's bed and back into their little art studio, he told the other man that it wasn't something Enjolras had asked for. It was something Grantaire had chosen to do himself.

Jehan didn't have the heart to tell him how much it hurt that Grantaire would pick Enjolras over him even when ey hadn't asked him to choose.

That didn't mean that Jehan wasn't happy for his friend. He was. This was what Grantaire had always wanted, and his joy at finally tasting the honey he had coveted for so long was infectious.

At least for a while.

For weeks, for a few months even, Grantaire was glowing. Jehan felt his closest friend drift further away from him, but he happily swallowed his bitterness in the face of Grantaire's smile. It was painful to admit that Enjolras might really have something more to give that Jehan would ever be able to provide, but that didn't mean he would be as selfish as to take it away from Grantaire.

Then Enjolras and Grantaire had a fight.

Jehan hadn't been worried, at first. The couple had always had fights with each other, sometimes in quite spectacular ways. They clashed on many different subjects, partly because they were both opposite and alike to each other. Their ideas often had the same roots, but life had made them grow in contrary directions.

So one more fight hadn't been a cause for worry. Even the fact that Grantaire had grabbed a beer in the fridge right after coming back to their shared flat hadn't really been enough to spook Jehan. It was far from unusual, for Grantaire.

The fact that Grantaire was quiet as he drank, more sad than angry, was a hint that something might be amiss, but not enough to panic. Grantaire was prone to melancholy, a mood which Jehan knew well enough to respect in others.

All this to say that, no, Jehan hadn't been worried. Not at first.

Not after that one fight, and not even after the next one.

Grantaire and Enjolras always made up. They always went back to one another. After all, Enjolras was Grantaire's singular belief. You did not just one day decide to stop following the Northern star when it was what had always guided you home.

The moment when Jehan started getting concerned was after he noticed that the times between arguments were just... less. On the one hand, Grantaire started spending more time with Jehan again. They would huddle up on the couch with one of Jehan's handmade infusions and watch weird documentaries well into the night, and it was nice to have that again. On the other hand, Grantaire wasn't coming home with a dopey smile on his face and apologies for how time had gotten away from him while at Enjolras' the evening before.

Grantaire didn't talk about it. Jehan didn't press, although he did... hover. Just a little.

Then Grantaire announced that he was going to spend a little while at Enjolras' place, longer than usual, because they needed some uninterrupted time as a couple, just the two of them.

Jehan tried to be happy for them, happy that they were trying to make it work, happy that they still believed in one another. He tried not to dwell on how their own appartment had started feeling more and more empty, even when Grantaire was here. He stopped himself before he could make a bitter comment about using Grantaire's room as an art studio again.

Instead, he lead his friend to the door, kissed him on both cheeks, and wished him well. He watched him go like one sits by the sea and waits for the light to sink.

The thing was, Jehan wasn't a saint. He was a human being with needs and desires of his own, and maybe he couldn't love Grantaire romantically, but he did love him. And for a year he had had everything he thought he would never be allowed to get, a best friend, a roommate, someone he could share his bed with at night and who would share Shakespeare-based puns with him over breakfast in the morning. And then a sungod had come in and ripped all of that from him, and he'd been forced to smile through it because Enjolras was his friend and Grantaire was happy.

But there had been something tense in Grantaire's shoulders as he'd packed his bags, and it had made Jehan want to scream. He didn't know how to tell the other man that he wanted him to come home without making it about his own pain and the feeling burned in his stomach like acid.

Jehan cried in his bed that night. He would have done it in Grantaire's, but he couldn't bear to step into the room that was now only a shadow of what it had once meant.

When Grantaire called him, three days later, in tears, there was a part of Jehan that felt vindicated. It wasn't enough to stop his stomach from twisting into knots as he whispered comforting platitudes until he could grasp anything coherent in Grantaire's distressed babbling.

“I don't understand what's happening, I don't understand why we just... why we can't... It's like ey can't hear what I'm saying, and I don't understand what ey wants me to tell em, I just...”

“It's okay. It's okay, Grantaire, you don't have to understand everything, just calm down a little. Right now you're panicking. You can't see things clearly if you're panicking.”

“I haven't seen anything clearly in weeks, Jehan. Everything's all blurry now.”

“That's just the alcohol talking.”

“No. It's really not. I wish it was.”

When Jehan saw Enjolras the next day, as they met up with all their friends, he couldn't even be angry. Ey look frazzled. Not in a dramatic way, but anything less than perfection was already dramatic when it came to Enjolras.

Grantaire had made Jehan promise not to say anything to em about their phone call, and Jehan respected that promise even if he didn't like it. That didn't stop him from watching Enjolras intently. There was a weariness to eir gaze that perfectly echoed Grantaire's for the past few days. Eir eyes kept drifting across the room, and Jehan didn't doubt that ey was asking emself the same question that was on his own lips: where was Grantaire?

At one point in the evening, Enjolras' eyes settled on Jehan. He met the gaze face on. He had nothing to hide. He wasn't ashamed of the pain and the fear he felt. It wasn't anything he didn't know he had a right to.

Enjolras didn't recoil. Ey bore the brunt of Jehan's attention and the accusation that sat hiding there. Ey looked on, weary, lost. There was a taste at the back of Jehan's throat that felt like pity, but he swallowed it.

When Grantaire finally came back to their shared flat, he was completely drenched from the storm outside.

“I had an umbrella with me, but I thought this would be more fitting.”

“That sounds like you, yeah.”

Grantaire stayed in the hallway. The sound of water droplets dripping from his hair and hitting the floor echoed ominously.

“I missed you.”

Jehan didn't reply. He didn't know what to say.

“I'm not feeling very good. I think I haven't felt very good in quite a while. I think I didn't realise that you made me feel that way. Good. Like I was good.”

Jehan breathed in. He breathed out. He stopped the screams that were trying to fight their way out of his mouth.

“I got everything I ever wanted. It was supposed to be perfect. It was, I guess. Or it felt like it. For a while. Now it's just... Hell is too warm a word. It's just something rotten. It's taken so much away from me. It's taken you away from me. I thought I couldn't have you both, and I picked em and it... you know that thing about boiling frogs by raising the water's temperature so slowly they don't even try to escape? It was like that.”

Jehan was fighting back tears. Between the two of them, they were about to flood the entire building.

This wasn't what he'd wanted. This was never what he'd wanted. He only wished for Grantaire to be happy. With or without him. Jehan had accepted his fate, he was okay with being left behind if it was for the greater good.

This didn't feel like the greater good. He suddenly wondered if refusing to raise his weapons hadn't been giving up the fight too soon.

“How is it fair to you that I only come back in pieces?”

“It's not.”

“Will you take me back anyway?”

“Of course I will.”

#AggressivelyArospecWeek #Meeni writes fics #Jetaire #Les Mis #Jehan Prouvaire #Grantaire #OTP: Words Unsaid

[mulanxiaojie]

Disney is releasing a live-action remake of its 1998 animated film "Mulan" in March 2020.

Insider asked the original "Mulan" codirector Tony Bancroft and Mushu animator Tom Bancroft their thoughts on the remake along with its first trailer.

The twin brothers said they're interested in it for the same reasons which may make some fans upset. They're happy it doesn't look like the remake will feature Mushu or be a musical.

"I want these remakes to be as unique and original as possible... It should feel reminiscent of what it's based on, but not be 'The Lion King' in CG animation that is like shot for shot," said Tony Bancroft.

Tom said while he kind of wishes Mushu was in the movie a bit, he says he probably would have been "a little disappointed."

"Mulan" is one of the next Disney movies that's getting remade for a new generation, and already has  the thumbs up of the team behind the original movie.

"I was excited about that," Tony Bancroft, the codirector of the original 1998 animated "Mulan," told Insider of the coming remake.

Tony, who worked at Disney Animation for over 12 years during its renaissance period, watched the trailer almost immediately after it came out in July. He remembers receiving a notification about it on his phone while walking to church. He stopped right then and there to watch it.

"Even though it was small and the sound wasn't great, I could see where the director was going with it," he said of his initial reaction to the teaser. "It felt like they were taking the best parts of the story — a girl who will do anything to save her father [and] bring her father and her family honor."

The 1998 film followed Hua Mulan as she took the place of her father in the Chinese army to fight the Huns. She chopped off her hair and disguised herself as a man in order to protect her father.

Production on the live-action movie started in August 2018 with Liu Yifei cast as the lead and starring Donnie Yen ("Star Wars: Rogue One") and Jet Li. The Niki Caro-directed film will be the company's 13th remake of one of its classics since 2010's "Alice in Wonderland."

When the first trailer was released, Bancroft noticed what most fans did. It didn't have any of the iconic songs people associate with the film like "Reflection" or "I'll Make a Man Out of You." That's because it won't be a musical. In 2017, Caro told Moviefone there were no songs in the movie at that time, describing it as a "martial arts epic."

More importantly, the trailer didn't have Mulan's dragon sidekick Mushu, who Bancroft's brother, Tom, animated in the 1998 film. Unlike the fans though, Tony actually liked that the trailer didn't feature either.

"All the things that a lot of fans are upset about are the things that I was happiest about because I really want them to go off and make a new version of 'Mulan.' I love that character. I love who she is," said Tony of being OK with the fact that the remake doesn't appear to have music or Mushu.

"I love what she represents and I love seeing more Chinese culture portrayed in a new different way," he said of Mulan.

Tony's brother, Tom, was also at Disney for about the same amount of time. The two started as interns before working full-time on, what became, many of the studio's classic animated fairy-tales.

Tom said his initial reaction to hearing about a "Mulan" remake was positive and made him eager to see how Caro and Disney would retell the story. After all, Tom and Tony have already seen a string of classics they worked on ("Beauty and the Beast," "Aladdin," and "The Lion King") remade by Disney. What's another one?

But then Tom started to have some questions.

"The fear sets in and immediately after that I'm like, 'OK, but how are they going to do Mushu? How are they going to do this sequence? Are they going to keep that really strong father-daughter relationship?" Tom told Insider of initial concerns for the remake. "When I saw the trailer, I was pleasantly relieved."

Even without Mushu? Yes, even without Mushu.

"A lot of people I know I think are surprised by that because I created Mushu, I should be really upset that Mushu's not in it. I'm really not," Tom said of people's reactions when they learn he's fine with the Eddie Murphy-voiced dragon not appearing in the trailer.  

He's afraid he would probably be disappointed if Mushu was in the live-action remake.

"While I kind of wished he was [in the movie] a little bit, just to see how that would have happened, I probably would've been a little disappointed," Tom said of an adaptation of Mushu in a remake. "In a way, I think I dodged a bullet."

While Mushu isn't expected to be in the remake (it's been reported he may be replaced by a phoenix), Tom would love to see more of Mulan's relationship with her father in the new adaptation.

"I'm hoping they're going to show a training sequence when she was very young and that her dad would sneak her off and privately train her to be a warrior because that'll make even more sense later on." he said.

Have Walt Disney Studios or Caro reached out to Tony about the remake? No.

"Nothing," said Tony, who doesn't harbor any ill will, "I kind of understand that from the standpoint of the new director. Do you really want to go back and kind of regurgitate old ideas?"

"It's almost better that they work in their own vacuum of researching on their own to try and make it as unique as possible," he added. "I understand it from their standpoint, although it would be great if there was a nod to the original and the team and the directors that worked on those original ones."

According to a press release from Disney in August 2018, the live-action "Mulan" is an adaptation of the '98 animated film, but will also be based on the narrative poem "The Ballad of Mulan." Tom said if they're going back to the original poem, and if they've have already seen the original movie, he doesn't think they need any pointers from them.

"I'm not offended by that," said Tom of not hearing from anyone about the "Mulan" remake. "I've worked for the Disney corporation for so many years that I really don't expect that. Most of the departments don't talk to each other. It's such a big conglomerate."

That seems to be the case for the majority of the remakes. When Insider spoke with "Aladdin" codirector Ron Clements earlier this year, he said he didn't consult with anyone on the live-action remake. In 2017, "The Lion King" codirector Rob Minkoff said that new director Jon Favreau had shown him some of the VR technology that was used to create that remake.

After the trailer release, Tony said he has attempted to reach out to Caro on social media. He shared an early character design of Mulan on her horse which he was reminded of by a shot from the trailer.

"I wanted to show some support for the trailer so I posted online and tagged her on my posts," Tony said of trying to connect with the new director.

"I never heard anything back, so that's kind of a bummer," said Tony. "All I can hope is she isn't online very much."

While they may not be involved with the new 'Mulan' film, the Bancrofts are plenty busy these days teaching, animating, producing, and podcasting. 

The Bancroft brothers left Disney in the early 2000s and worked on "VeggieTales." The two are passionate about 2D animation and currently teach animation at universities in California and Tennessee, go to animation expos and conventions, and cohost an animation podcast together, "The Bancroft Brothers Animation Podcast."

Tom is also producing a documentary called "Pencil Test" on the art of 2D animation and its future with interviews from animators like Glen Keane ("The Little Mermaid") and John Musker ("Moana"). You can watch a trailer for it here.

More than 20 years after its release, Tony's contribution to "Mulan" is still recognized worldwide as he continues to work on indie animated features.

"Most of them have connections to China," Tony said of most of his animation films being coproductions with China. "I have a lot of involvement with China these days because of 'Mulan' and they seem to be very interested in working with me on projects."

When it comes to the remake, which will hit theaters in March 2020, Tony says he's very supportive of where it's going as long as it's not a direct rehash of what has already been seen on screen.

"I want these remakes to be as unique and original as possible," said Tony of Disney's reimaginings. "It should feel reminiscent of what it's based on, but not be 'The Lion King' in CG animation that is like shot for shot."

[blasphemings]

closure

hope was closing with my eyes down the shallow grave I was lying then I heard someone say "he'll be stuck here forever" but I prayed it wasn't forever

'cause you were leaning over me clutching memories of when I was alive and then you breathed life into me one last time

the kiss of life / the dear hunter

[though i’m inspired by all the art I see people making of the various characters i used here, @lemon-cookies​ in particular is a huge source of my characterization for risotto and prosciutto and i actually pulled one of their exchanges from this piece so go look at emmy’s outstanding art if you like these two]

link to part 1

---

“I told—I told you—”

The raised voices were deeply familiar and he almost wanted to laugh at the sound, clamping his teeth shut over the cry that tried to escape. He knew it was only a matter of time. It had been ever since he had chosen to find them here.

“Yeah, okay, I, I, know what you said, and I didn’t—”

“Do you? Were—were you even listening? What did I just say?”

Even he had been slain, in the end.

“I…” Pesci groaned. “Does it really matter?”

“You see?” Prosciutto threw up his hands and shot a gap-toothed grin at the two men on the couch opposite. “See what I’ve been dealing with?”

Even their nail polish was the same. If he still had breath to hold, he would have held it as tightly as he held himself, searching for the horizontal scars; they were light, lighter than his own, such that he would not have noticed had he not known where to look.

Sorbet snorted softly. “We leave you alone for what, a few months?”

Risotto remembered calling it a kindness, that they became whole again after death. Or a cruel joke, Abbacchio had said.

“And you all lose your fucking minds, huh?” Gelato smirked up at him.

“Yeah, man,” Pesci said, oblivious. “I told—”

“Capo, you do know we can see you, right?”

Sorbet looked straight at Risotto with mild amusement. He watched Prosciutto stiffen from behind.

“Tell me it’s not you,” he murmured.

“I could say that,” Risotto said evenly. “Little use, though.”

“No…you’re not—”

“I’m sorry.”

“Damn. Damn it.”

He glanced down. “Not happy to see me?”

“No—I mean, well, yes—that’s not—you know that’s not what I mean.”

“I know.”

The silence seemed to last an eternity, something to be said for being together in a place without time.

“So he even got you, huh.”

Sorbet’s voice was soft, missing any of the venom with which he had so frequently spoken in life.

“I…”

Risotto looked down at the hand on his arm. The nail polish would have looked black, to someone who hadn’t known any better. Sorbet had always said that it told him who was paying attention based on who thought it was black, and who watched closely enough in the light to see the plum color for what it was.

Gelato had complimented him on the color the day they first met, and Sorbet had smiled and said that he could share if he liked it so much. Sorbet’s left hand went from being smudged to pristine in a span of time far too short for it to have been explained by the man suddenly becoming extremely skilled with his non-dominant hand. It was Risotto’s job to notice such things.

The sole time he had seen it he had known it for the transgression it was, that he was on the verge of walking in on something more intimate than any embrace. It had been in the room they now faced one another in, or rather the living version of it, and he remembered how close to one another they had been on that couch, how he had never seen Sorbet hold anything so gently as he held Gelato’s hand still for the nail polish. How, when he thought about it, it was the first time he had ever seen Sorbet be gentle with anyone at all.

The others remembered that day as the only time Risotto failed to appear on time for a meeting.

“I almost didn’t think I could show my face,” he said quietly. “Here, that is. To you.”

“Why was that?”

“You deserved…” Risotto met Gelato’s eyes over his shoulder and winced. “I failed to—both of you deserved more than what I—there was no justice in it, I wanted to—”

“You know, it’s funny.”

Pesci was blinking up at him as though he had only just realized he was there.

“I used to kind of think you couldn’t even die at all,” he said slowly.

Gelato smirked. “Immortal Risotto, hmm?”

“One hell of a shelf life, at least,” added Sorbet.

“Oh, okay, shut up—”

“I tried to be,” Risotto interrupted. “For all of you,” he added, but his eyes were on Prosciutto, who watched him carefully with an inscrutable look on his face.

“I know you did,” Sorbet said. “We watched for a long time.”

“I tried,” he repeated softly.

“It was enough for me.”

Gelato’s arms were folded, and he wouldn’t meet Risotto’s eyes, but he stood very close to the two of them now, the tapping of his left foot on the floor growing more rapid by the moment in a nervous habit that it seemed even death couldn’t break.

“It was enough,” he repeated stiffly when he realized he had cast the room into silence. “You did enough.”

“Gelato, I—”

“You tell me you’re sorry and I’ll hit you so hard you’ll think death came for you a second time.” He tilted his head to the side, considering. “Speaking of which—how’d he get you?”

“He—”

“He?” Prosciutto’s hands balled into fists where they rested on his knees. “What do you mean, he?”

“The man himself,” Sorbet said. “Isn’t that right?”

“It was a trick,” Risotto muttered. “Dirty trick. I almost had him, I—”

“You saw the—him? The boss?”

“Yes, I—yes.”

“Hope you made the fucker spit nails before he got you,” said Gelato, examining his nails somewhat dispassionately, though once he looked closer Risotto saw that his hand had begun to shake.

He glanced down at Prosciutto. “Actually.”

“You didn’t. You—you didn’t.”

Risotto nearly smiled as he made a snipping motion with one hand.

“The scissor thing?” Prosciutto laughed out loud. “Oh, that one’s horrible. I’m so glad.”

“What scissor thing?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t have—he didn’t start doing that until—until, you know. After.”

Risotto stood very still, staring at the floor, as Prosciutto struggled to describe it. The carpet was just as he remembered it, nail polish stains and all.

“You made scissors come out of his—” Gelato whirled on him, delighted.

“That’s disgusting,” Sorbet said reverently.

“It’s even worse in person,” muttered Pesci, but he was smiling too. “Just wait until Illuso hears. He really hates it.”

“You can thank him,” Risotto said, jerking his head towards Prosciutto, who watched him with something like pride in his eyes. “Was his idea the first time.”

“Sure, but the finesse was all you, caro.”

Gelato and Sorbet exchanged a look. “Pesci,” Sorbet said. “Let’s go tell the others that the big guy is home.”

“Oh—!” He looked up in surprise. “I mean, yeah. Good idea. Bro—?”

“Nah, leave those two here.” Gelato tugged on his arm. “C’mon, mammoni.”

“You know, he’s actually pretty smart when he’s pissed,” Prosciutto remarked, watching the two of them gently drag Pesci away as Risotto gingerly sank down onto the couch at his side. “I mean, it isn’t as though he really got the chance to use it. But still.”

“I regret getting him involved sometimes.”

“As do I.” He looked sideways at Risotto, averting his eyes when he realized he was being watched, and sighed in frustration.

“Still not happy,” Risotto murmured. The fact that Prosciutto had refused to meet his eyes even once had not been lost on him.

“I had hoped…” He closed his eyes. “I had hoped I wouldn’t see you again so soon.”

“I’m sorry,” Risotto said. “I…I am so, so sorry.”

They sat, looking down at their hands, shoulders brushing together. He wondered briefly how much time they had; he wondered if time was even a concern at all.

“You didn’t have to do it, you know.”

He didn’t need to ask what Prosciutto meant. “I know.”

“It wasted time that you very much needed.”

“I wouldn’t call it a waste.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

Are you just going to leave him here?

And he could have. It would have made sense to leave the mangled body on the train tracks where he had fallen. It would have been easier. He would not have been haunted by the memory of how holding it had felt for the remaining days he had left among the living.

I don’t want to leave him here all alone.

The boy’s words had been a knife twisted into his own heart, even as he had watched them reach the spirit of the man to whom they were directed. It had all happened too fast for the memory to be anything other than an open wound, stinging where it was struck by the tears carried by that ocean air as though they were made of acid.

“There was barely anything left to bury,” he said quietly. “But I couldn’t…I couldn’t just leave you there.”

It had only been a matter of chance, that the poppies Prosciutto had always liked were growing nearby. Almost as though there were nothing they could ever have done to avoid his dying at that moment, in that way. As though he were always meant to rest there.

He was silent for a long time before Risotto felt a familiar hand wrap tightly around his own.

“Thank you.”

This time, when he looked down, Prosciutto did not look away.

“It was stupid,” he said. “But it was kind.”

“Out of character, wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh, extraordinarily so.” Prosciutto grinned up at him. “So where to now, capo? Heaven? Hell?”

Risotto paused. “What do you think?”

“I think…” The edges of his smile hardened, an expression as vicious as it was familiar. “I think I’m not going anywhere until I get to see that dickhead boss of ours get pounded to a pulp.”

“Someone say dickhead?”

“Yeah.” Prosciutto turned towards the voice. “Amazing enough, Formaggio, I wasn’t talking about you this time.”

“Hah!” The man dropped heavily onto the couch opposite and winked at Risotto by way of greeting. He raised his eyebrows, watching the others appear, unable to fend off the guilt provoked by each new face.

Melone. Ghiaccio. Illuso…

He started to pull his hand back reflexively but Prosciutto only tightened his grip.

“It’s not like we have anything to lose,” he murmured. “Besides. They’re not that stupid."

“Capo,” Gelato said. “You bought him the time he needed, didn’t you? That other Passione guy.”

“Abbacchio,” Sorbet corrected him. Illuso flinched.

“Whatever. Yeah. Him. Right?”

Risotto nodded slowly.

“And you think those guys will get him?”

“They’re nothing to fuck with, that’s for sure,” muttered Illuso.

Melone grinned. “So we were the practice round, huh? One shitty little boss shouldn’t be a problem for them at all after us.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ghiaccio snapped.

“I think they’ll kill him.”

One by one they turned to look at him.

“I do,” Risotto said. “I saw their eyes after—I think they really are going to kill him.”

“Maybe they’ll take out that fucking mushroom-head on the way there,” grunted Sorbet.

“Mushroom head?”

“’S what he looked like. Little green mushrooms.”

Gelato laughed. “You’re fucked up.”

“So I’m told.” Sorbet turned and offered his hands to the sitting men. “Seems like we know who we should be watching.”

“I guess we don’t want to miss any of the good shit.” Prosciutto allowed himself to be pulled upright. “You coming, capo?”

He hesitated.

“Risotto.”

Sorbet had rarely used his name in life; whether to maintain the distance between them, or simply to be flippant, Risotto had never quite been able to tell. But it had been hard to read the man in a lot of ways. If it hadn’t, I might have—

“All this time,” Sorbet muttered, crouching before him. “All this time and you still carry all that guilt.”

Risotto looked down. “It was my responsibility.”

“You were our boss, not our mother—”

“You didn’t see—what it—the others,” Risotto hissed. “Prosciutto can’t even—he tore down all the picture frames in the house the next day. He still can’t—couldn’t…look at one without flinching. Pesci started to panic every time he saw a mailman. Lost his goddamn mind. They all tried to act tough but it was bullshit. It was bullshit, you—”

“You stayed.”

He glanced up to find Gelato’s eyes piercing him much more deeply than he was used to.

“All that ‘forget about Sorbet and Gelato’ bullshit and you stayed in that empty chapel for hours. Just sat there like you were waiting for some priest to realize there was a stray sinner and drag you back down to hell but no one came, no one ever came for you. You waited with us until dawn. You were alone, but you stayed.”

The two marble coffins were swathed in a silence dead in more ways than one. He had told himself to get up, to leave them behind, more times than he could count, and somehow each had felt more impossible than the next. He could not erase the terror on their faces from his mind. He could not shake the feeling that he had lifted it from their deaths, and that it had now become his own.

“And you…”

Risotto could not remember the last time he had heard Sorbet’s voice shake. If he had ever heard it do so at all.

“I know what you did for me,” he said softly, so low that only Risotto could hear him clearly. “I saw what you did.”

Reassembling Sorbet had been a grueling process, and not one he would have undertaken had he felt there were any other option, but having him buried with the frames felt like a declaration of defeat. As though to say the two of them could be remembered as nothing more than what had been done to them.

“…I wasn’t going to just leave you like that.”

Prosciutto had found Risotto in the morning asleep beside the coffin, surrounded by broken glass and bleeding where it had sliced him. The frames were present, but what was left of Sorbet was nowhere to be seen. He found, later on, that Risotto had stitched him back together as well as he could with iron filings pulled from his own blood, so that he could be buried in one piece.

Prosciutto had never said anything indicating he realized the extent of what Risotto had done, but when he staggered home from church in the early hours of the morning, he found Prosciutto equally as awake and nearly as exhausted. It had been the first time two of them had been unable to sleep alone, if only to reassure one another that I will not leave you here alone.

“The dignity you returned to me is not something I can thank you for with words,” Sorbet said. “But I am as grateful as any who understands everything you did for us.”

“You did beautifully, capo.” Gelato smiled and patted his arm. “But it’s not our fight anymore.”

Risotto met his eyes and, after a moment, he nodded. “Thank you.”

Sorbet stood and stretched. “You know what I want?”

“What do you want, stronzo?”

“I wanna see those fuckers get what’s coming to them.” He and Prosciutto hauled Risotto to his feet. “Come on, big guy. Think you can track down that friend you made?”

Illuso grumbled something nearly unintelligible.

Melone laughed. “Well, don’t call him that to his face.”

“Seems like he’s hanging around the others on some kind of vehicle,” muttered Risotto. “Car? Doesn’t look…this might get interesting.”

“Don’t tell me it’s a turtle…” Prosciutto winced.

They watched the others disappear one by one, Melone turning to shoot him a wink before he vanished.

“You know,” Prosciutto said thoughtfully, gazing out the window where he now saw the dreaded turtle appear. “I’m still not glad you’re here. But whatever happens next…I am grateful that I won’t have to face it without you.”

Risotto snorted. “Till death do us part, is it?”

Prosciutto smiled.

“I would love to see it try.”

but I prayed it wasn't the last time because it would be so wonderful to see your starry eyes again.

#jjba #risopro #sorlato #la squadra #risotto nero #prosciutto jjba #gelato jjba #sorbet jjba #vento aureo #tagging the food names rly is gonna make me bonkers after a while but thats how it is #this is called these characters were not given enough canon development to warrant closure so i did it myself #it also was NOT meant to get this long but shit happens anyways ill be back later i have commissions to work on have this in the meantime #love n light etc

[eternaldarkness55]

Dawn of Caroline(Part 1)

(StoryInfo)(Will and Caroline catch the disease and know they're going to die. In order to keep their baby girl safe and to see Ceasar one last time Will begs Ceasar to raise the baby as his daughter. Ceasar agrees, Caroline named after her birth mom is a beautiful 16 year old girl who is both part of the ape and human world. Koba who hated her since she was a baby shows his true colors.)

5 months after Ceasar left Will

    Ceasar heard a bunch of commotion then Maurice ran up to him

    Maurice: There's a male human with baby girl, he seems very sick. I told everyone not to harm any human without letting you see them and without your word.

    Ceasar: Take me to them

 Maurice took him to a very sick and coughing Will and Rocket was holding the baby.

    Ceasar: Let him go! And give me the baby!

    They did

    Ceasar: Are you okay Will? What happened?

    Will: I'm sick and dying, I had to see you one last time. And ask you a favor.(Wheezed)

    Ceasar: What's the favor?

    Will: Raise my daughter as your own please, she'll be safer with you please(Begged as he pushed a box with clothes for her for every age and all the hygiene stuff she would need)

    Koba: No way!(Ceasar looked down at the baby)

    Ceasar: Okay I promise, what's her name? Or should I name her?

    Will: I-

    Ceasar quickly caught him with one arm as he died

    Ceasar: Bury him with honor

    16 years later

    Caroline who was named after her birth mother was a beautiful 16 year old girl with long black hair and white skin. She wore dark blue jeans and a white tank top Caroline hated hunting unless its self-defense or the creature is evil. She had her birth mom's love and gentleness of creatures so she always stayed behind and helped Maurice who was like her uncle to her teach the children apes. But her mom Cornelia being sick had her distracted so she was up keeping her company instead. The minute her dad, brother, and the rest of the apes got back she called him and Blue Eyes to come up. Ceasar ran up and held Cornelia's hand. She gave birth to a baby boy they named Cornelius Caroline rubbed his little head. Blue Eyes ran in

    Ceasar: Come meet your new brother

    Blue Eyes walked over to them.

    The woods

    After Blue Eyes and Ash went fishing they made their way to one of the paths. But they saw a guy come walking, as soon as he saw them he pulled out his gun.

    Meanwhile back home

    Ceasar heard a gunshot making him sit up quickly startling Caroline who he was holding while she was sleeping.

    Caroline: Dad what is it?

    Ceasar: Caroline stay here with your mom and baby brother

    Meanwhile with Blue Eyes and Ash

    Carver: Hey hey!(Called as Blue Eyes held Ash)

    Carver: I shot him I shot him(His friends came running)

    Ceasar and his apes showed up Malcom made Carver put away his gun.

    Rocket: He shot my son he shot Ash(Signed)

    Ceasar: It's okay Rocket(Signed)

    Malcom: We don't mean any harm(Yelled)

    Ceasar: Go!(Yelled)

    Alex: Dad my bag(Pulled him as everyone took off)

    The entrance to the apes home(the next day)

    Malcom made his way in he turned around and saw a big ape behind him. The big ape called making more show up.

    Malcom: No no!(The apes grabbed him)

    They dragged him as they made their way in from of Ceasar's home. Ceasar pulled Caroline by the hand as he walked out.

    Malcom: Please just hear what I have to say, I need to show you something. It's not far

    Koba: Human lies!

    Malcom: No no no no I swear If I can just show you then you'll understand.

    The apes started jeering but then Ceasar put his hand up stopping them.

    Ceasar: Show me

    Malcom led the apes and Caroline to a giant river then into a structure and explained his purpose there. And what the machines do.

    Malcom: Is any of this making sense to you?

    Ceasar: The lights

    Malcom: Yes the lights, this is your home and I don't want to take it away from you I promise. But If you could let us do our work here-

    Koba: You brought others?!(Growled)(Ceasar stopped him from doing anything)

    Malcom: Just a few, I'm not a threat, but if I am I guess you can kill me

    Ceasar let them stay and he let Caroline stay with them. He knew with her being both part of the human world and ape world he could not stop her from being around or being close to humans. Malcom and her were already close she was like the daughter he never had. And Caroline felt like he was her human father. And her and Alex fell in love right away. Foster liked her a lot too but it was clear Carver hated her with a passion. And that was part of the reason why Maurice and two other apes kept an eye on her every time she was alone with the humans without the humans knowing. As they were doing her first night with them.

    Carver: Why do you and your son keep touching that filthy creature? You're going to catch the disease. Or are you guys growing fond of those monsters too?

    Caroline: I'm immune, have been since birth! And the disease was created by scientists in a lab! The apes had no say in the matter!

    Carver: Spare your bullshit bitch!

    Carver: I should kill you right now!(Stood up pointing his gun at her as Malcom quickly pushed her behind him)

    Malcom: Enough Carver enough!

  Carver: Move!

    But before he could pull the trigger Caroline was on him pushing him to the ground and chocking him.

    Caroline: You listen to me trash! I'm not scared of things like you! Don't think I haven't heard what you did to my brothers best friend! Next time you touch, point a weapon, or open your dirty mouth to or about me and my family I will ripe your tonged threw your chest! You better hope my family has reasons to stop me!

    She quickly got off ran back to Malcom

    Carver: Did you see what she did?! She's going to kill us all!(Stood up)

 Everyone glared at him furiously

    Carver: Fine I'm the asshole(Walked away)

    Caroline: Yeah you are!(Yelled)

    Foster: Well with that I think we should go to bed

    Malcom: Sounds good, come on Caroline you would be safer in mine and Alex's tent(Put his arm around her shoulders and lead her to his tent)

    Morning underground in the tunnels

    Caroline: I know you're in love with me, I feel the same about you. But I will never leave my family. So our relationship would never last. Don't leave your dad and your life for me please. I love your dad and you with all my heart and I will miss you so much. But I can't do that to you or your dad.

    Alex: I understand, so you have been raised by Ceasar since you were a baby?

    Caroline: Yes, my birth father raised Ceasar until Ceasar went off on his own. My birth parents caught the disease so Ceasar took me in.

    An explosion happened

 Caroline: Malcom Malcom(Yelled worriedly)

    Alex: Dad(Yelled worriedly)

    Rocket opened the tunnel and him and Ash climbed down and helped the humans out. Once everyone was back above ground the only wounded and needed help was Carver. Thanks to Foster Caroline knew all about medicine and first aid. Despite her hatred for Carver she offered to help but mostly to get him to stop whining.

    Carver: Go drowned yourself filth

    Caroline: I can heal you or injure you more, your choice(Said sarcastically sweet)

    Alex laughed

    Her and Alex kneeled in front of him Carver cried in pain as she pushed a cloth on his ankle.

    Caroline: That's it keep pressure on it

    Malcom: Thank you, you saved our lives, we got a lot a debris to clear now so we might need more time(Said to Ceasar)

    Ceasar: How long?

 Cornelius hopped out of his arms and ran out to his sister and started to play with Alex's shoes. He and Caroline laughed

    Carver: Hey what are you doing? Focus

    Cornelius hopped over into Carver's case

    Carver: Hey hey!(Yelled standing up)

    Caroline immediately regretted helping him and charged over pushed him hard to the ground.

    Carver: I'll kill you this time bitch(Quickly got up pointing a gun in her face)

    Ceasar quickly ran over, grabbed him by the shirt, and threw him hard onto the ground. Ceasar was about to beat him with the gun.

    Malcom: No Ceasar don't

    Ceasar: I said no guns(Pointed it at Carver)

    He made his way over to the water pointing it at the humans then threw it into the water.

    Malcom: I didn't know I swear

    Ceasar: Humans leave now!(Yelled as he picked up Cornelius)

    Blue Eyes pulled Caroline with by the arm as he followed their dad. But not long after Malcom followed them home.

    Malcom: I'm sorry that was my fault but I will make him leave

    Ceasar: This is my home! You should not be here!

    Malcom: I understand

    Caroline: Dad please, Foster has taught me medicine and first aid. I can help mom but please don't make them leave let them stay(Pleaded)

    Ceasar: I do not trust you(Said to Malcom)

    Malcom: I understand but were not like him please

    Caroline: Please dad(Begged)

    Knowing he had to help his wife and how much Caroline loved Malcom he couldn't say no.

    Ceasar: You will stay one day

    Malcom: We might need more time

    Ceasar: One day! Ape will help

    After Caroline gave her mom the medicine her and the apes went back to the machines and helped the humans.

     Foster: Hey Caro this is broken, can you see if they have another?(Tossed something to Caroline)

    She smiled and nodded

    Koba who always despised her and never wanted her a part of them walked in.

    Caroline: Hey!(Cried as Koba threw her hard to the floor)

    Malcom: No no no!(Cried as he desperately and worriedly ran in front of her protectively and put his hands out)

    Maurice stood in front of them and growled at Koba.

    Koba: Ceasar! Where's Ceasar?! Want Ceasar! Ceasar!(Yelled angrily)

    Ceasar walked in

    Koba: Humans attack your son and you let them stay?! Ceasar loves humans more then apes more then your sons! She's not your daughter! Not one of us! She's one of them! She's worthless and doesn't belong!

    Koba stormed out the next morning when Caroline who was sleeping in Malcom's arms saw Alex reading to Maurice.

 Caroline: Malcom look(Woke him up)

    They watched and smiled, later they met up with Ceasar and the other apes.

    Malcom: Thank you, we should be done today. We'll know when we get back to the city. And I'll tell everyone how you helped us and how you have good hearts.

    Ceasar finally knew he could trust his daughter’s best friend who has now become one of his best friends.

    Ceasar: Trust(Extended his hand to Malcom making Caroline smile proudly)

     Malcom smiled and took his hand, later as Malcom worked down in the tunnels he heard Caroline call for him.

    Caroline: Malcom Malcom(Yelled)

    Malcom: What? What is it?(Yelled up)

    Ceasar and Caroline took the humans to their home. They could see the city lights from there. Ceasar and Malcom smiled at each other. Cornelia came out holding Cornelius all healthy. As Ceasar ran up to her Malcom kissed Caroline on the forehead and she kissed Alex on the lips. Blue Eyes walked up and hugged his mom. Koba arrived and shot Ceasar making him fall and be hidden under trees. Cornelia freaked as Blue Eyes held her back. Blue Eyes jumped down and grabbed a gun that was laying on the ground.

    Blue Eyes: Human gun!(Yelled)

    Maurice: Run(Whispered to Caroline and the rest of the humans)

    As they took off Malcom pulled Caroline

    Koba: Humans killed Ceasar! Go get them!

    In the morning Ceasar who was in pain woke up to see his daughter and Alex looking at him.

    Alex: Dad?!(Called)

    Caroline: Malcom!?(Called)

    Malcom: Oh my god Ceasar!(Yelled worriedly as he ran over)

    Malcom: It's okay Ceasar were here, Caroline help me

    They carefully picked him up and carried him to one of their trucks. They put him in the back.

    Ceasar: Your brothers..... your mom?(Asked desperately looking with tearful eyes at his daughter)

    Caroline: I don't know(Said sadly)

    Caroline: Try not to speak you need to rest(Whispered softly)

    Caroline: Hold(Said softly as she gently grabbed his hand and placed it on his wound)

    Caroline: He's lost a lot of blood(Said to Malcom and Alex)

     She stayed in the back with her dad as Malcom drove off with Alex in the passenger seat. Once they got to some houses Ceasar tried to get them to stop.

    Caroline: Malcom stop I think he wants us to stop

    Malcom stopped the truck and he and Caroline carried him in and gently laid him on the couch. Ceasar handed a picture that was on the table to Caroline.

    Caroline: This is you and my birth father isn't it?

    Ceasar nodded yes gently

    Malcom: I have to go to the city and find him a first aid kit

    Caroline: Be careful

    Malcom: I will

    He kissed Caroline on the forehead, hugged his son, and left. Later when he returned with it he brought Blue Eyes with him. Blue Eyes went over to Ceasar and grabbed his dad's hand.

    Ceasar: Your mother..... and brother safe?(Asked weakly tears in his eyes)

 Blue Eyes: For now(Signed)

    Blue Eyes saw the wound then looked angrily at Malcom and Alex and even at his sister.

    Ceasar: No not human, ape

    Blue Eyes: Who?(Signed)

    Ceasar: Koba

    Once Caroline took care of Ceasar she explored the room that use to be Ceasar's with Malcom. They watched happily as she found a video of her birth father teaching her adopted father. Blue Eyes who left returned with Maurice, Rocket, and other apes. Everyone ran outside.

    Blue Eyes: Koba sent for females and young(Signed)

    Ceasar: We go now!(Said urgently to Malcom and Caroline)

    In the subway tunnels in the city

    Suddenly gun shots went off making the apes, Caroline, and Malcom hide quickly.

    A voice: Who's there?! if you're human you better say so!(Called)

    Malcom: It's me! It's Malcom! Don't shoot!(Called)

    Malcom: The stairs take the stairs(Whispered)

    The apes did what he said

    Ceasar and Caroline: Thank you(Breathed)

    Malcom: Trust(Smiled)

    Ceasar and Caroline followed the apes

    Malcom: Okay I'm coming out! Don't shoot!(Called)

    Ceasar, Caroline, and the apes went to the top where Koba and the other apes were. While Ceasar confronted Koba Blue Eyes kept Caroline by him protectively the whole time loving his sister very much once again.

    Koba: Apes follow Koba now

    Ceasar: Follow Koba to war

    Koba: Ceasar weak

    Ceasar: Koba weaker

    They battled each other, suddenly there was an explosion taking some of the tower apart and injuring some apes. Koba was hanging from a metal stick trying not to fall to his death. But he fell and died anyways all of a sudden there was a lot of communion. Ceasar and Caroline noticed some of the apes trying to attack Malcom.

    Ceasar: Leave him!(Yelled)

 The apes let go of him and moved away from him Malcom walked over to Ceasar and Caroline.

    Malcom: You all have to get out of here soldiers are on their way. It's going to be a war.

    Ceasar: War has already begun

    Caroline: You and Alex must go before the fighting starts. I'm sorry my friend

    Malcom: I thought we had a chance

    Ceasar and Caroline: So did I

    Ceasar grabbed Malcom's head and pressed their foreheads together. When they were done Caroline and Malcom hugged each other with all their hearts then he kissed her on the forehead. Malcom left and Ceasar and Caroline walked over to the apes.

#apes #planetofapes #ceasar #story #storyofmine

[welcometophu]

Missed Fortunes: Family & Friends 3

Twinned Book 2: Missed Fortunes

Family & Friends 3

[ Previous | First | Next ]

“Do you really think this is going to work?” Shawn has his arms crossed, dark eyes narrowed under a furrowed brow. He stands in the hall outside of Sam’s room, as if he’s been left there, waiting for them.

Maybe he has; Carolyn isn’t the one coordinating this and she certainly isn’t the one talking to him.

Del runs her hand over his shoulder, down his arm to his elbow. “I think it’s our best shot, and I think Sam thinks it’s our best shot. Which means it’s a shot we have to take.”

Pawel approaches, one of the nurses in his wake. “We’ve got an hour, and Joshua here will be in the room with us the entire time. If Sam gets combative, Joshua will administer a sedative that will help calm him, but not knock him out completely.” There’s a tension in his words; neither he nor Joshua look pleased, and Carolyn gets the feeling it’s a compromise on both sides.

“The point is to wake him up, not knock him out,” Shawn says curtly, pressing his lips together when Del squeezes his elbow.

“We need him to be calm enough that we can perform the ritual, but not actually unconscious.” Del addresses Joshua, despite her hand lingering on Shawn. “Did Professor Szczek explain?”

“At this point you might as well call me Pawel. My upper level students generally do,” Pawel mutters. “Not that you’re actually my student, but at this point, the details seem moot.”

“That’s not important right now,” Kit says.

Carolyn takes in a shuddering breath. She knows she’s standing right here in the hall, in the same place where she visited Sam not long ago. It feels familiar, but at the same time, there’s a sense of unreality about it. A sense that maybe this isn’t really happening, and they’re already in a dream.

It’s a disturbing thought, that maybe this is something already set in motion and they have no idea where real is, and where it isn’t. Because isn’t that what’s happened to Sam? Maybe there’s another layer to this, something else they have to escape.

She wraps her arms around herself and shudders. That’s not a path she wants to go down. She has to be confident. Calm. Ready to do this, finish it, and get the hell out.

Del presses a hand against Shawn’s chest, and from their expressions, Carolyn’s missed something. Del pushes, and Shawn steps back toward, stopping when he comes up against the wall. “Get out of your own head, and don’t act like a dick because you’re feeling insecure,” Del tells him, the words sharp. She seems more in-focus, less dreamlike than the rest of the world around Carolyn.

“Go into the room,” Del says without turning around. “I need to have a quick talk with Shawn, then we’ll be in.”

Shawn’s jaw is set, and the familiar anger is blunted by something. It’s the way he looks up, then down and away, and Carolyn can’t read the emotion in the movement.

Joshua opens the door, then stands to one side after entering, his nurse’s scrubs a stark dark slash of blue against the soft grey walls.

Sam looks up as they enter, gaze unfocused, and that makes Carolyn feel even more detached. Pawel looks exhausted still as he approaches Sam, one hand out as if walking up to a wild animal. Sam doesn’t move, even as Pawel sits on the edge of the bed next to him.

“Samuel,” Pawel says quietly, and Sam doesn’t turn.

Kit grabs one of the chairs in the room and sinks into it, sitting with his feet kicked out in front of him, arms crossed. He pulls papers out of his pocket and flips through them. Carolyn looks over his shoulder and takes in the images.

She already saw them once in the car, briefly. A new one of Sam, built from pictures that Sam’s mother sent of how he looks now. A little thinner, older. Sharper and more tired, as if fear eats him from the inside. Or maybe that’s just Carolyn’s thoughts based on what he said. It could be both.

There are easily a dozen pictures of forests, each one done based on Del’s descriptions last night. Instead of anyone having a nice, relaxing evening, they’d all spent the night together, Del talking while Kit slipped into a strange fugue and created image after image based on her words. There are even two with figures in them: one with Sam, and another with Sam and shadows in the distance.

The last one makes Carolyn shiver, and it’s the one she reaches to take from him.

“Carolyn.” The pleasure in Sam’s voice makes her look up. He stands and comes to her, his arms open, and she takes the hug he offers. “Kit. You’re both here.” Shadows in his gaze as he looks at Joshua, then back at the bed. He frowns to see Pawel, and at the way his door is still cracked open. “Are you both here, or am I dreaming? Are we going to find the right path?”

“We’re going to find the right path.” Del pushes the door open and it bangs against the wall before Joshua catches it.

Sam comes to attention as Shawn enters the room behind her, takes a step toward Carolyn. “We’re all here,” he says.

Del’s expression gentles. “And soon we’ll all be there. If this goes as planned.”

Sam’s gaze drifts to Carolyn. “It will. I trust you.”

She feels the pressure settle over her shoulders. “I’ll do my best.”

It takes some work to set themselves up in the room. Sam’s attention shifts again, his expression going slack as he takes the seat Kit offers. Pawel moves out of the way, standing by the door with Joshua. Del arranges them all in the order they’d planned: in a circle with Sam at the center, each with one hand on Sam’s shoulder, and the other on their neighbor. Del touches Shawn, who touches Carolyn, then Kit, and back to Del. A closed circuit.

The exact same way they’d fed their abilities into Sam’s illusions during senior year.

Only this time, it’s a feedback loop. They want to feed energy into Sam, and they want to connect with him, to travel to where he is. But they also want all their own energy to circulate, feed each other. It’s important that they act as one.

Carolyn holds the image that felt the most real to her when she touched it—the one of Sam inside the forest, with the shadowy figures in the background. It matches what he told her, and it resonates. It’s pinned between her hand and Sam’s shoulder, right in her vision.

“So what now?” Shawn asks, and his voice knocks her out of concentration.

“You shut up,” Kit says sharply.

“Carolyn’s Talent is traveling through illusions,” Del says, tone carefully even. “Sam’s Talent might intensify this, if he’s got any left. I’m hoping that when yours leaked out, it went back where it belonged. We can use that. I’m going to use my Talent at the same time as Caro, so when we travel we go into the actual Dreamscape where Sam is. Then we have to get back out.”

“How?” Shawn’s fingers twitch against Carolyn, like he’s going to let go of her shoulder.

“Good question,” Carolyn says. She looks across at Del. “We’re going to figure that out when we get there.”

“Time starts now,” Pawel says quietly.

He has a list of acceptable and agreed to ways of trying to wake them up, shake them out of the ritual if it goes too long. Pawel is their failsafe, but he has no real way of impacting them. Once they get started, Carolyn’s pretty sure that the only way out is to go through.

“Ready,” Carolyn murmurs, and she focuses on the image in front of her.

The illusion blooms quickly, trees growing and filling the room pushing everything away until the five of them are within the shimmering confines. Pawel is no longer visible, the sounds of the hospital are far enough away that Carolyn can barely hear them.

“Now,” Del whispers, a soft giggle at the end, and abruptly the illusion becomes real.

Sam crouches down in front of them, on one knee, head bowed. In the distance, shadows move amongst the darkness, and Carolyn thinks she catches glimpses of figures among them. It’s not welcoming.

They stand on a dirt pathway that seems surprisingly well trodden, threading between the trees. It stretches off in either direction, and Carolyn can see forks beyond forks, in a seemingly endless maze. Light streams down through the canopy of leaves overhead, flickering but surprisingly bright along the path. It quickly shutters into darkness in the depths of the forest away from the path.

Sam looks up. “Are you real?”

Del sinks to her knees in front of him, cradling his face. “Hell yes, Samson, and we’re going to get you out.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to be easy.” Kit drops his hand from Carolyn’s shoulder but catches her fingers, gripping tightly. “There’s not a sign that says Exit.”

“I’ve tried all the paths; none of them lead home.” Sam rises, shakes something unseen from his shoulders before he stands straight. This is the Sam of her memories, all the strength and vitality of high school. His cheeks are fuller, his shoulders broader. More confident than the last time she spoke to him.

“One of them has to.” Shawn starts walking to his right without waiting for them. “We have to start trying our options.”

“There are a thousand options,” Sam protests, raising his voice without moving a step. “Shawn. A thousand or more. I’ve been down every path.”

“You said we had to walk the paths.” Carolyn remembers this from her last conversation with him.

His gaze narrows. “You have to get us out.”

“You said we all had to be here.” She wants him to remember the conversation, wants to make sure they get this right because they may not ever get another chance. “You said everyone had to walk their path, even Kit.”

Sam’s gaze strays to the darkness beyond the path. “It’s too dangerous to split up. We don’t want to fall into the split.”

“No one said we had to walk our paths alone,” Del says. She catches up to where Shawn waits, energy barely contained. Carolyn suspects he would run if he dared, and she doesn’t blame him.

This place gives her the creeps.

Del catches Shawn, swinging their joined hands. “Come on.” Her voice is cheerfully singsong. “Let’s see where you need to go.”

Not want. Need.

This place isn’t just creepy, it’s downright disturbing.

“It’s like a reading,” Kit murmurs.

And oh, that’s true. It’s a pathways reading, with different choices, and different cards along the way. Carolyn starts moving as Sam and Kit bracket her.

“Read the right pathways,” Sam tells her. “Reach the final outcome.”

Carolyn remembers reading for Shawn long ago. The way he’d wait for her to lay all the cards out, then start to tell his own story based on the pictures. The way he’d just bull ahead, rather than looking at the meanings behind the cards, and the way he’d ignore half of what she said, picking and choosing the pieces that worked for himself.

He barely pauses when the road forks, picking a path by seemingly random choice. As Shawn moves faster, Sam seems to drag, until Kit grabs Sam’s hand and pulls him along so he doesn’t get left behind.

“We can’t split up,” Kit murmurs to Sam. “We’re not leaving without you.”

The shadows grow darker, closer to the path, and Carolyn sees movement closer as well.

“Shawn, I don’t think this is the best—”

“We’re going this way,” Shawn says, determined. He pushes forward, and the path narrows. He slows down as it does, stopping when he reaches an end to the path, a tall tree rising in front of him. The trunk is as wide as the path is narrow, blocking the way in its entirety.

Shawn goes to step to one side, to go around, and Sam grabs his wrist tightly. “Don’t go off the path,” he cautions. “Don’t let the split take you. The shadows will consume you.”

For a moment Carolyn thinks Shawn is going to explode. But his gaze catches on something past Sam, and he steps back, shakes off Sam’s hold. “Fine. We can’t go around. I don’t think we’re meant to go into the tree. Which means we’re here. This is the end of the path, so we go home from here.”

“I don’t see why we couldn’t have just tried to go home where we came in,” Kit grumbles.

“Because we have the paths,” Del tells him, patting the side of his face. “Don’t you know that’s why everyone comes here? We dream to travel the pathways, and find our way in the waking world.”

Logical, yes, but a little chilling the way she says it. Especially when combined with the fact that Sam’s been traveling these particular paths for years now.

Shawn feels his way along the bark of the tree, as if seeking a secret door. “So how do we get out this way?”

“How do you know it’s the correct path?” Del counters. She leans in, lips brushing against his cheek. “Maybe we should try another,” she whispers. “There are so many ways we could go. We should try them all.”

Definitely chilling.

Carolyn brings out the picture of Pawel. “It’s only the right path if it gets us back to reality,” she says, focusing on his face.

She imagines him as he has been recently: scruffy and tired, with dark circles under his eyes.

The illusion fails to rise.

“This isn’t the final outcome,” she says, and Kit smiles slightly.

“I’ve looked through into other worlds,” Sam mutters. “The worst of them want to come through to get you. The worst of them have been overtaken by shadows, and are little more than hell.”

There’s a great crack that shakes the ground and thunders from the sky.

Kit grabs Carolyn, throws them sideways as a branch crashes down, the trunk split. She lies there, stunned, as shadows spill out of the shattered tree, flowing briefly across the path before they disappear into the darkness.

Every spot they pass over succumbs to darkness, and the path is slowly consumed. The end is already gone, the tree a part of the darkest forest, surrounded by teeming movement.

“Change is beautiful,” Del murmurs.

“Do you see?” Sam asks. “If we don’t stray into the split, it might come for us. We have to find a way out.”

Kit scrambles to his feet, pulls Carolyn with him. “Run!” he orders, and does just that.

Shawn, Sam, and Del race after them. Carolyn keeps pace with Kit easily, her feet moving in sync with him in a way that they never would in the real world. The magic of dreams, she supposes, her lungs burning from effort but never quite seeming to give out.

The dream has given way to nightmares, shadows reaching out to graze the path, tickle their skin on the way by. Del’s giggle echoes softly, and Carolyn isn’t sure if she’s hearing it or imagining it, but she isn’t going to slow down long enough to tell for sure.

Kit hesitates at every fork, and every time he chooses, it’s exactly the one Carolyn would have picked. There’s a sense of rightness as she travels with her twin, step by step down the same path, following the exact same movement. It’s everything they had when they were younger, everything they have always been. They have always been different people, but they have always always traveled together, despite their differences.

Kit hesitates at one fork, gaze shifting between the three options. He quickly looks away from the far right, and Carolyn’s grateful. It makes her skin crawl just to look at it; she knows there is nothing good that way.

He looks to the left, and for a moment Carolyn catches a glimpse of a woman there, her image in reverse. She doesn’t hang upside down, but rather it is as if her entire world has been turned on its ear, upside down and backwards. And when she faces away, the world rights itself again and a man stands there.

“The Empress, reversed,” Carolyn murmurs. “Femininity rejected, and masculinity accepted.”

Kit takes a step toward that path, and she catches hold of him. “Not that way.”

“It feels right.” He takes another stubborn step, pulling her with him.

“I wonder what it would feel like, to touch a shadow,” Del muses. Shawn holds her close, keeps her from straying from the path.

In the distance, down the center path, Carolyn sees two figures. One, a man walking, and the other less clear, but beckoning them closer. “Not to me,” she insists. “I can see you down both paths, but I’m not on that one. If you go that way, I can’t go with you. If we go to the right, we destroy ourselves. But if we go to the center, it’s your path, but I’m with you. We’re different, and together.”

Kit wavers.

“Pick something before Del gets loose and goes chasing shadows,” Shawn grits out.

“We need to leave,” Sam insists, gaze darting around. “The paths are crumbling to darkness.”

It doesn’t look different to Carolyn, but she hasn’t been here nearly as long; she trusts Sam’s assessment. She holds out her hand to Kit, palm up, and says, “Together?”

Kit places his hand atop hers. “Together,” he agrees, and at Sam’s insistent yell, Kit shouts, “Run!”

They race down a path that grows lighter as they go. The tightness in her lungs eases, and Carolyn breathes in, long and deep before pushing forward again. They burst out of the forest into a meadow, the heavy scent of flowers and fresh grass almost overpowering. Sun beats down on them, thick and warm.

Del pulls away from Shawn and skips out, stopping to spin with her arms out and braids swinging with the movement. “Home,” she sings out.

“I’ve never been here before,” Sam says. He crouches down, runs his fingers through the grass.

“This is Del’s dreamscape. Her personal one.” It’s familiar in a way that Carolyn doesn’t want to remember, reminding her of high school and being trapped before. “Del, can’t you just—” She stops mid-sentence; Del is ignoring them all in favor of lying down on her back, starfished among wildflowers and grass.

They can’t rely on Del.

Kit’s staring at her like he’s waiting for her to do something. Sam looks like Carolyn holds the answers to everything he’s ever wanted. And Shawn lies down next to Del, watching her with wonder, and Carolyn supposes that he’s never seen her like that before.

None of them really have, except for Carolyn.

“I promised to get her out of here,” Carolyn whispers. “She knew she’d want to stay, and that she’d get lost.”

“Do you think this is the way back?” Kit asks.

Carolyn shakes her head. “Not exactly. But I think that if anywhere is thin enough for us to punch through and get out, it’s here. We’re with Del, and we’re kind of in her mind. It’s like when we went into Mattie’s dream and I walked us out of there through an illusion. We’re going to do the same thing here.”

She has the picture of Pawel in hand, waiting for her.

“Sam, I need you to hold onto me,” she directs. She doesn’t want to risk him getting left behind, and making sure he’s the first through is the best way around that. “Kit, as soon as I’ve got this working, I need you to get Shawn and Del over here. And be ready for an argument. I don’t think Del is going to want to go. She’s happy here.”

Like a child, she thinks. Innocent. Free. This is a place where the past never happened, and the future doesn’t loom. She can’t blame Del for wanting to stay.

The meadow is bright, but she can still see shadows around the edges, where the forest begins. They move, reaching out into the light, retreating again. She wonders if it’s only a matter of time before they push inward, making the light smaller. And she wonders what that means for Del’s mind, if it’s possible for the shadows to overtake her personal dreamscape.

Focus. She needs to focus.

“Don’t let go,” she murmurs as Sam holds her shoulder. He responds by wrapping his arms around her, heavy and solid against her back.

As she stares at Pawel’s image, an illusion springs up. He’s leaning forward, posture stiff and angry, mouth open as he says unheard words. “Pawel,” Carolyn calls out, and he straightens abruptly, turns toward her.

“Carolyn?” he says, peering in her direction. His gaze narrows as he catches sight of her. “Where are you?”

She didn’t think this through, and realizes she doesn’t know how to just open up a gate or a doorway to send everyone through. “Dreamscape,” she says. Sam’s breathing is rough behind her, and she isn’t sure if he can see Pawel or not. She hopes he can; it’ll make this easier.

“The four of you disappeared, and Sam passed out,” Pawel says curtly. “It’s been an hour and a half and I’ve been arguing every minute of the last thirty to keep them from doing something to wake Sam up.”

“Thanks.” Carolyn can’t be sure, but she thinks that’s a good thing. On the other hand, if Sam’s both there and here, she’s pretty sure she needs to rethink the plan. “This is Sam behind me. I was going to send him through first, but I get the feeling that if he’s already there, I need to bring him with me. Which means I need to deal with the physical people first.” She raises her voice. “Kit! Now!”

“Already here.” Someone touches her arm, and Carolyn glances sideways to see Kit standing there, eyes wide as he looks past her. Shawn stands behind him, Del thrown over his shoulder. She has a flower in her hands and is picking petals from it, tossing them into the faint breeze.

“It’s the only way she’s leaving here,” Kit says quietly.

Carolyn nods. “I promised I wouldn’t leave her behind.”

“Now what?” Pawel asks.

Carolyn reaches out, and Pawel lifts his hand to match her motion. Carolyn feels it when she breaks the plane between here and there, his fingers solid on hers. He’s more real than the world behind him, and she tightens her grip. “Okay, here’s how I think this is going to work. Kit, hold my hand, then take Pawel’s free hand and go to him. Then Shawn, with Del. Then I’ll bring Sam. Got it?”

“Got it.” Kit nods sharply and does as asked. Carolyn feels it when he leaves the dreamscape, like he sucks a little bit of reality out with him. The illusion falters, almost falls away, and she feels a thick surge all around her.

Pawel’s gaze is narrowed, lines deeply furrowed around his eyes. His fingers on hers grip so tightly that they hurt. “I’m trying to help, but let’s get this over with quickly.”

Carolyn reaches blindly for Shawn, grabs him and shoves him toward Pawel. As Shawn carries Del through, the illusion shakes again, and Carolyn goes to her knees, dragging Sam and Pawel with her. Echoes reverberate inside her head, pounding. She closes her eyes for just a moment against the pain, opening them again when Pawel snaps her name.

“I’m here,” Carolyn says, looking at him. She twists in Sam’s grip, wraps herself around him as he wraps around her in turn. “We’re taking you home,” she says.

He smiles, leans in forehead to forehead with her. “Thank you.”

She steps forward, stumbling as Sam’s weight disappears from her shoulders. Pawel catches her, lowers her to the floor where she kneels, head bowed, eyes closed against the light.

She hears a shout, Sam’s voice rising in the background. “I’m home!” he yells, and there’s the sound of flailing, of a struggle. Shawn yelling as Pawel pats Carolyn’s hand and leaves her there.

She can’t do anything but try to breathe, struggle to get her body under control again when it feels like she could sleep for a week if she just lets herself. She leans back, ends up sitting on the floor, half-sprawled because her limbs just don’t want to cooperate.

“It worked,” Kit murmurs, and she opens her eyes to find him crouched next to her, his hand behind her back to help her sit upright.

“Good.”

There’s yelling and alarms, people calling for examination while Sam protests. Carolyn can’t separate the words into coherence. She presses her hands to her ears, tries to block it out.

“Just breathe,” Kit says, and he does it with her. In. Out. In-two-three-four. Out-five-six-seven-eight. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

In the corner of the room, shadows coalesce, squirming in ways that make Carolyn think of the forest. She scoots backwards, further from the darkness, and Kit turns to follow her gaze.

“Did they follow us?” Kit whispers.

“You see it too?” Carolyn thinks maybe she’s imagining things, but maybe not, if Kit sees it.

A figure forms, steps out. She looks so normal as she stands there, hands on her hips, surveying the room until she looks down at Carolyn. She smiles, full of sharp teeth. “You people are noisy.”

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#welcome to phu #welcometophu #missed fortunes #phu twinned #twinned #mf family friends

[rhetoricandlogic]

The Thing In the Walls Wants Your Small Change

by Virginia M Mohlere

The penny was gone again.

Caro huffed and dropped her grocery bags in the hall. She reached in, took a penny from the change bowl by the door, and rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger, said Nana’s charm for the house spirits, to keep them happy and home.

She blew on the penny and tucked it down by the threshold.

Five days she’d lived here, and seven times the penny had been gone, either in the morning or after she returned from an errand. The apartment didn’t set off her Spooky Senses, but the penny thing was weird.

Nana was unsympathetic.

“Girl, you got house spirits with expensive taste,” she said, laughing. “That’s what you get, moving yourself where everything’s snow and concrete. Down here the house spirits know us. They miss you.”

“Nana. That’s you missing me,” Caro said, guilt eating at her just a tiny bit.

Just a tiny bit: mostly, she was still pinching herself that everything had worked out so smoothly: this cute little apartment with southern exposure, high tin ceilings, and a dark-stained, carved sideboard set into the dining/living room wall that she loved so much she wanted to lie down on top of it despite its sticking drawers. This ridiculous neighborhood that was like something out of a romantic comedy, with its painfully adorable coffee shops, blocks of grey stone townhouses, and ethnic restaurants entirely outside the dreams of most other people from Pointe Coupee Parish.

And the job. Hired from across the dang country to write cybersecurity algorithms for enough money that the offer letter had made her choke, when surely there were a thousand coders nearby who’d have jumped at the chance. After 2 weeks, she still half expected that to show up at the address every morning and find an empty lot. It was too hard to believe this was all real.

“Yes, it’s me missing you, baby. Every old minute. But you know I’m happy for you.”

“I know, Nana.”

“Your mama keeps asking after you.”

And there was the familiar sensation of acid boiling up into her sternum.

“Nana, you won’t –“

“I won’t, baby. I won’t ever give her your number, I promise. I do keep telling her you’re happy as can be.”

Caro laughed.

“That must make her furious.”

Nana laughed too, but high-pitched, tense.

“That it does. Don’t you let that snake I birthed hurt you all that way away. You go to your fancy job and show them how lucky they are to have you, and call me on the iPad on Sunday so I can see your face.”

“Love you Nana.”

“Love you, baby.”

The penny was gone again in the morning. Caro rolled her eyes and put another one down.

It was the biggest mystery of her new life in Chicago – which, as troubles go, she was not going to complain about. It wasn’t like an extra half-dollar or so each month to appease her greedy house ghost was going to crack her budget, but it vexed her.

Well. And there was that scratchy sound behind the wall in the back hallway, next to the bathroom.

“No way, I spray once a season,” her landlord said. “Sorry, kid, it’s just an old building. It makes noises.”

Which was okay.

“It’s rats in the walls. Every building has them. Anybody ever tell you about the super-rats from the eighties? They were the size of cats. My cousin knew a family whose dog got killed by one.”

This not-okay statement solidified Troy from sales as The Office Asshole. Poor guy, he seemed so shocked when his follow-up invitation for shots after work got shot down. Ha ha.

Still: rats. Was there anything more gross than rats? Every time she heard that faint scritch behind the wall it made her spine feel like a spaghetti noodle. Was it enough to give up the sideboard? Was it enough to give up her three-block walk to the train? Or the taco stand two doors down?

She stood in the hallway, staring down at the wall panel, waiting. Wasted hours this way, it was so stupid.

It was easy to spend long days at work, avoiding her apartment and the scritch. It was easy to take long walks on weekends. She found an endless supply of cute boutiques and tasty stuff to eat. She learned her way around St. Bran’s so thoroughly that she was almost grateful to the scritch for driving her outside.

Her neighbors in the other five apartments were a quiet bunch – she almost never saw them, other than brief greetings at the mailbox or holding the front door open. Seemed like maybe two couples, a guy her age, an older woman, and someone on the third floor who listened to a lot of classical music but never left the building.

Caro found herself in the laundry room with the older woman on a Saturday morning, having just heard a particularly loud, long scratching sound and something almost like a purr.

“Rats?” the woman said in answer to her question.

She frowned with soft eyes, as if thinking hard. When she shook her head, the beads in her long grey dreads clacked.

“No, I can’t see rats. It’s an old building, sure, but this is a clean place. Protected.”

Protected?

Then the woman grinned and squeezed Caro’s bicep in a strong grip.

“You’d be more likely to find, I don’t know. Borrowers in the walls. Did you ever read that book when you were little? That wouldn’t surprise me a bit.”

She pulled her clothes – ancient jeans, calico smocks, and faded concert t-shirts – out of the dryer and laughed to herself.

“Borrowers in the walls,” the woman said, “that’s good. I’m going to use that.”

Caro shrugged after her.

It made her feel better, though, that her neighbor couldn’t “see” rats. To someone who went to the actual bank to get rolls of pennies for house spirits, it didn’t even sound so weird. She looked up Borrowers and wished that her eight-year-old self had read the books. Tiny people in the walls who collected junk and put it to ingenious use. That would’ve been like holding a piece of Nana’s old trailer with her, back in the days before Nana got custody.

Back in the days when she hadn’t had any possessions she couldn’t sleep in, on, or around without their disappearing into vodka bottles or the garbage or the toilet. So a book wouldn’t have lasted long anyhow.

She went so far as to actually speak to the cute girl at the gym, whose name – Aly – even turned out to be cute. The first time they went for drinks, Caro stumbled home drunk enough that when she fumbled emptying her jacket pockets and all her change spilled to the floor, she thought ‘screw it’ and went to bed.

The change was gone in the morning.

God dang. It had been like seventy cents.

Caro heard the scritch and the little purr-sound and knocked one knuckle sharply into the wall panel. The resulting silence was full. Whatever was frozen on the other side of the wall, possibly praying that she had run into the wall by mistake, was too smart for standard rodentia.

“Hey,” she said, “don’t get greedy.”

The penny by the doorjamb stayed for three days, then disappeared. Caro laughed at the floor, pulled a penny out of the bowl, and said the charm.

“I see how it is,” she said to the panel in the back hallway, “you require regular offerings. I get it.”

She took to leaving pennies and nickels on the floor around the living room. As long as there was a coin or two hanging around on the floor, the luck penny stayed by the front door.

“See? You’ve worked things out,” Nana laughed into the phone. “Though what a house ghost wants with that much currency I can’t imagine.”

In October, Caro came down with a bad case of the flu and didn’t leave the apartment for eight days straight. Takeout and an emergency drop-off of oatmeal and cans of soup from Aly saved her life, but mostly she lay on the couch, alternately shivering and sweating, wishing she’d ever bothered to buy a cable package or at least a charging cable for her iPad that reached all the way to the couch.

She almost called Aly for a ride to the emergency room on day four when she woke from a nap and hallucinated a small black creature in the middle of the floor, picking up a nickel and running down the hallway.

Still, there was no denying when she woke up later that the nickel was gone.

Caro couldn’t blame it on the flu when she woke from a Saturday-afternoon nap three weeks later and saw it again, sitting by her desk with a penny in each. In each claw.

The thing froze when she inhaled; Caro willed her body to relax and closed her eyes to slits. Her heartbeat was fast as a bird’s, but she held herself still, hopefully as if she remained asleep.

The thing blinked its red eyes twice, then looked back down at the pennies it held. It made the purring sound she had twice heard behind the wall.

She figured she could probably hold it in her two cupped palms: it was the size of a kitten, the color of charcoal, with a triangle-shaped head and two greenish horn-things curling over the top.

It was obviously a dragon. The tiniest, cutest, most ridiculous dragon any person could imagine, which Caro was obviously doing, because dragons were obviously imaginary. Except for the part where it held a penny in each forelimb. Except for the part where it shoved both pennies into its pointy little jaw and galloped across the room to the back hallway.

Except for the part where something had been taking her loose change for the past three months and scritching behind the wall.

Caro tried to see it again. She left change all over the floor and pretended to take naps almost daily, but though she heard it behind the wall, the little sucker remained elusive. She knocked on the wall once and pitched her voice to be as gentle as possible when she said,

“Hey, it’s okay to come out. I won’t hurt you.”

Silence – and all the coins remained on the floor for a couple of days after.

She learned that value wasn’t the creature’s priority: it liked pennies best, followed by nickels. Dimes and subway tokens would stay on the floor until they were the only things remaining. She got a Canadian penny among her change once; that was snapped up. It preferred shiny pennies to dull ones.

Emergency life-saving via oatmeal caused Aly to appoint herself Boss Of Caro, which sucked at the gym (so many reps) but had its own advantages, aside from Aly’s fundamental cuteness. She pitched enough of a fit when she found out that Caro wasn’t going home for Thanksgiving that several of the dudebro lifters glowered in their direction. She arrived outside Caro’s building at nine a.m. for the drive out to River Forest. Caro brought a bottle of wine and flowers and tried to treat it as a cultural expedition, eating turkey without any cayenne on it, dressing made of bread instead of rice, and not one oyster on the table.

Caro called Nana during the break between dinner and dessert, when Aly and her dad were setting up trays in front of the football game on TV. If she hadn’t been at a stranger’s house, Caro would’ve thrown up on the carpet when Nana answered the phone with their code phrase, “I’m sorry, I don’t make donations over the phone, but thank you for calling.”

Mama was there.

“You all right, honey?” Aly’s mom asked.

Caro took the plates out of her hands and used to walk to the living room to calm herself down.

Over the long Thanksgiving holiday, Caro holed herself up with leftovers from Aly’s family dinner and banished all motherly thoughts by trying to draw the dragon out, making a trail of pennies down the hallway that led to a highly polished quarter laid just inside her bedroom door. She turned off all the lights at 8:30 and climbed into bed, wedged among pillows, her blankets swirled around with only one eye uncovered but a clear view of the hall and the doorway.

It was over an hour, easy – more than enough time for her limbs to ache with the desire to sleep. Finally, she heard a creak, a scratch, and a sound that might have been sniffing. The little dragon ran down the hallway and skidded to a stop right in front of her doorway. It was almost impossible to see when it was still – just a shadow in the darkness – but she could hear it sniffing. When it walked forward, she could see its little hunched shape, its tail.

She could hear when it found the stack of pennies just inside the living room.

“Rar!”

Its voice was high-pitched and creaky, almost like a dog’s squeaker toy, and it took every drop of Caro’s willpower not to laugh at the sound.

“Rar rar!”

And happy Thanksgiving to you too, she thought.

It ran back and forth eight times, carrying the pennies to its home behind her bathroom wall, humming to itself the whole time.

It left the ones closest to her bedroom door for last, standing up on its hind legs in a posture so cute that Caro wanted to curl up into a ball, tilting its head back and forth and sniffing.

“Raaaaar,” it hummed softly.

The dragon crept into her room, one foot at a time, peering up at the bed between steps, while Caro held herself completely still.

It stopped in front of the quarter and stared down. Sniffed. Bent to touch the coin with the pointy bit of its face. Did it lick the coin? Caro hoped it licked it.

“Haaaaaa,” the little dragon breathed.

It picked up the quarter and put it in its mouth, but the coin dropped to the floor with a clink. The dragon froze, staring at the bed. Caro did her best impersonation of a rock.

After half a dozen breaths, the dragon reached down again and picked up the quarter. It shoved the coin back in its mouth and held it in place with one forelimb, then hobbled out of the room on three legs.

Once it was gone, Caro curled up and put both hands over her face. What even was this? If her life got any cuter she might not survive it.

“A dragon,” Nana said the next day, her skepticism so strong it would’ve curdled the cord on a landline.

“I swear! A dragon the size of a kitten.”

“Sweetheart, you sure you didn’t drink too much at your friend’s house?”

“Nana. I’ve seen it three times. It’s what kept taking my spirit penny! I’ve been leaving coins out for it for months! I wish I could get a photo of it, you would not believe it.”

“I don’t believe it, baby.”

“Nana,” Caro groaned. “How is this any weirder than your spirit pennies and all your red strings with knots in them and that gross jar full of herbs that’s as old as me?”

“Don’t you bad-mouth my binding jar, it’s what keeps your mama from making even more trouble.”

“Uh huh. And?”

Caro knew the expression Nana was making back at home – lips pressed together so the places where her pink lipstick had feathered up into the wrinkles around her mouth stood out, eyes narrowed behind her gold-rimmed glasses.

Caro noted a trend toward her own face doing the same thing.

Oops.

“Well. I guess I don’t want to call my best grandbaby a crazy person. Are you sure it doesn’t mean you any harm?” Nana said finally.

“One hundred percent. It’s only interested in money.”

Nana laughed.

“Well that’s true of lots of folks! You ever left a dollar bill out for it?”

“No!”

Once she bought in, Nana had a dozen questions about the little dragon. She laughed again when Caro tried to imitate its squeaky voice.

“Aw, baby, I still don’t know how this can be, but damn me if that don’t sound like a pure delight. Who knew such things could live under the sun.”

Nana pitched her voice lower.

“And you know if we both have to spend our time with dragons, at least yours is a cute one.”

Caro couldn’t make much of a laugh at that one. Mama had shown no sign of leaving Nana’s house. At this rate, Caro wouldn’t be able to ever go home again.

Caro heard a series of sharp, muffled thunks over the phone, followed by,

“The hell you out there doing, Mama? You’re out of cooking sherry.”

Caro hadn’t heard her mother’s voice in three years, but even over a phone line and through a closed door, she could hear the telltale burr that the cooking sherry had gone done Mama’s gullet. She wondered whether it was the old bottle that had sat at the back of Nana’s cabinet for as long as she could remember.

Was it too much to hope that it had turned to poison?

“Don’t you worry, Betsy,” Nana bellowed into the phone, making sure Mama would hear every word, “I don’t mind a bit doing the altar on Sunday. You just rest that ankle. I’ll be there at seven-thirty sharp.”

“Gawd,” Mama said.

“Got it,” Caro said. “I’ll call you then. I love you.”

“You bet.”

Caro sat on the floor by the bathroom door to have her cry. She didn’t mean to scare the little dragon, but she didn’t want to feel alone.

Her phone rang on Saturday afternoon – Nana must’ve slipped out to the grocery store.

“You okay?” Caro asked when she answered.

There was a long pause, then.

“Huh.”

She registered that it was Mama’s voice just as the phone beeped to signal the line being cut off.

Crap.

She called Nana at 7:34 the next morning, and Nana picked up on the first ring.

“Caro.”

“Nana, are you all right?”

“Sweetie, I am so sorry. I’ve been so good about keeping my phone on me, I just let it go for a minute.”

“Nana. Are you okay.”

Oh, the pause was too long.

“What did she do?”

“I’m fine, baby.”

“Nana.”

“It was just one cigarette and I got butter right on it, my hand’ll be fine.”

Caro sat down on the floor.

“Honey, I’m fine. I swear.”

“Nana, you have to make her leave.”

“Well, baby, I think I did. I spent last night at your aunt Betsy’s house, and we’re headed back to the house after church with Pere John and Sheriff Huntley to make sure. Sheriff’s got a locksmith friend who’s coming out to change all the locks and help me fix up my windows. But Caro, baby. Your address was in my phone.”

Caro lost all ability to remain vertical and lay on the floor.

“You should get a different phone, baby.”

Caro’s belly dropped at that tone. It wasn’t one she heard very often. Nana tried hard not to let her down. But it happened. Nana wasn’t a superhero.

“What else, Nana?”

“Baby, I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, Nana. What else?”

“You know I always kept my Christmas tin in the same place.”

Always. Caro had stolen from it once or twice – never more than a couple of dollars for candy, until the day Nana caught her and said “don’t be like your Mama, Caro. The road’s too hard.”

She’d never touched it again, and it wasn’t because of a hard damn road.

“She’ll probably drink it all up, sweetheart.”

“Was it enough for bus fare?”

“It was.”

There was a long silence. Caro enjoyed how cold and hard the floor was. She was glad she hadn’t gotten around to buying a rug. Her shoulder blades ached against the wood, so there was one part of her not filled up with sickness and worry.

“She’ll probably drink it all up,” Nana repeated.

Probably. But not certainly.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Nana said.

“I know.”

Then she remembered her manners.

“It’s okay, Nana. You didn’t do anything.”

“That’s half the trouble, isn’t it?”

Caro would never agree to that aloud.

“Let’s just hope you’re right and she goes on a bender in Baton Rouge.”

“I love you, sweetheart,” Nana said, her voice miserable.

“I love you too. I’ll send you my new number.”

She turned the phone off. No use in courting trouble.

But she wasn’t going to sleep, not with the idea that Mama might show up at the door, expecting food, booze, the bed, to be the center of all attention. To have her every whim obliged on pain of broken bones, property destruction, and plain viciousness.

Caro watched TV (looked at the TV without registering what was on it) for several hours, until her eyes felt coated in sand. She had gone through hungry and out the other side to a queasy exhaustion.

How Mama would laugh at all the change on the floor. Before she picked it all up and pocketed it.

Caro reached for her wallet on the table next to the sofa. She had five quarters in the change pocket. She tossed them onto the floor in front of the sofa and wrapped up in the quilt aunt Betsy made for her high school graduation. May as well make a little happiness in the house.

And boy howdy did she. She dozed a bit, so she had no idea how much time had passed by the time she woke to see the little dragon hopping around the quarters on its little claws. She had always thought the word “scamper” was a dumb word, until she saw it in action by a miniature imaginary creature.

“Rar raaaaar!” it squeaked.

And she couldn’t help the choked-off sob she made – it was such a relief to see happiness.

The dragon froze and stared at her. Caro stared back, keeping her hands inside the quilt and her head still, but not bothering to hide her face.

After a long pause, the dragon blinked at her, titled its head back and forth. She blinked back.

It sniffed. Caro sniffed.

The dragon laid one claw experimentally on a quarter, and Caro blinked again.

“Go ahead,” she said in a soft voice.

The dragon startled, but it didn’t move. It tilted its head again.

“They’re for you. Take them.”

It waited a long time, moving its claw fractionally, until the moment when it lifted the quarter to its mouth and skittered on three legs down the back hallway. She thought maybe she had scared it for good, given the length of quiet afterward. Long after she’d given up, she saw it creeping along on the floor, hunched down, its triangular head angling toward her as it passed.

The knot in her chest let go. The dragon went totally still when she sniffed in an unsuccessful attempt to stop the tears rolling out of her.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m just really glad you came back.”

The little dragon huffed at her. Caro wiped her face on the quilt, and by the time she looked up, the dragon was gone with a second quarter.

It didn’t hesitate to come back for the third one. By the fifth one, it didn’t even pause. It sauntered casually past the sofa and lifted the coin straight to its mouth.

“Rrr!” it squeaked.

“You’re welcome,” she said, and it was enough to let her sleep.

The knock she dreaded came two days later. She’d had a very uncomfortable conversation with her boss, who shocked Caro to her bones by calling HR on speakerphone and asking them to get started on transferring Caro’s desk to the badge-only floor.

“Do you have a picture of her?” he asked. “Get one to security and they’ll make sure she doesn’t get in the building. You want somebody to travel back and forth with you?”

Caro cried a little bit, much to her horror.

“Look, I don’t care how much you try to pull this ‘y’all don’t bother about lil ole me’ crap,” Aly said at the gym. “I’m coming over on Saturday, and I’m staying until you find out for sure that you’re not getting any unwanted visitors. Pay me in pancakes.”

That had made her cry a little again.

So she had a little steel in her spine by the time the door rattled. Was a fifteen-year-old restraining order from Louisiana in force in Chicago? She had no idea.

“Caroline, it’s your mama, open up!”

Caro tried to will herself to grasp the doorknob and was unsuccessful.

“Caroline! I saw the light on, I’ve been traveling a whole day and night, darlin, don’t you want to see your mama after all this time?”

She pounded on the door again.

“Open the fucking door, Caroline.”

Her neighbors would be able to hear all this. Her neighbors seemed like nice people. They’d try to help, if they thought there was trouble. Trying to get between Mama and what she wanted was a great way to get hurt.

She opened the door. The grimace on Mama’s face morphed into something like a smile.

“Caroline.”

She pushed past Caro into the living room and looked around, clearly displeased. She was still taller than Caro, still broad-shouldered. But her skin hung loose on her frame, aside from her round belly, and she looked a decade older than her early fifties.

Friends ought to take care of one another, Caro thought.

Mama’s best friend, ethanol, didn’t take good care of anybody.

“The hell kind of dump is this?” Mama said. “Can’t afford anything modern?”

Caro remembered that she was a grown-ass adult and not a terrified elementary schooler.

“You’re more than welcome not to stay,” she said.

Mama rounded on her with a well-remembered expression: narrow eyes, lower jaw jutted out, cheeks dark with more than the standard burst capillaries.

“What makes you think you can talk to me that way?” she said, grabbing Caro’s arm. “I’m your mother, you show some respect.”

Caro shrugged hard, trying to pull her arm free, but Mama’s grip was as fierce as her snarl.

“Don’t you fight me, girl, I know every trick you’ve got.”

“Let me go.”

“You don’t tell me what to do, Caroline.”

“You let me go!”

Caro pulled. Her instant of calm had devolved into the weak-kneed helplessness that dogged her every time she saw her mother. She heard her own breath. She would lose. She always lost. Mama was a juggernaut. Everything fell down in her presence. Everything had always fallen down.

“You straighten up now, girl, I won’t have –“

Mama’s face went vaguely green, her eyes wide. A calm corner of Caro’s mind saw that the sclera were yellow.

“What,” Mama croaked, looking over Caro’s shoulder.

“Rrrrrrr!”

Caro turned. The little dragon was barely three feet away from them, tiny white teeth bared and its back end wriggling like a cat about to pounce.

“No! No, run!” she yelled, pulling so hard that she wrenched her arm free, although the sleeve of her sweater tore.

The dragon hissed.

“The hell is that,” Mama whispered.

“Oh, don’t,” Caro said, then backpedaled when the dragon jumped.

She landed hard on her butt and stayed planted, mouth open, while the dragon leapt at Mama’s knees, banked off them, whirled around on the floor, and jumped again, making its squeaky growl the whole time. Its little claws stuck in Mama’s clothing while it climbed her, shrieking in a rasp. Mama stayed frozen and gaping until it reached waist height, then she batted at it and cried out.

The dragon latched onto her hand with its mouth; Mama yelled again and waved her arm. The dragon let go, arched in mid-air, and landed on her shoulder, scrabbling around on her back while Mama pounded her own shoulders, turning in a circle. The dragon kept squeaking “rar rar” and head-butting her between the shoulder blades. Caro could see little spots of blood along Mama’s arms and seeping through her shirt. The dragon moved so fast that sometimes it was a blur, crawling up and down Mama’s body, pausing only to head-butt her or bite.

“The hell is this?” Mama yelled, “What the hell is going on?”

The dragon hopped onto Mama’s shoulder and dug in, then clamped its jaws around her earlobe.

Mama screamed.

Caro felt a vast hysteria rising up from her guts.

Over the sound of Mama’s shouts and the dragon’s squeaks, Caro heard a firm knock at the door and a muffled voice,

“Neighbor? Everything all right in there?”

Whatever this was, she could answer that question.

“No!” she shouted, “it’s not!”

The door slammed inward, and the non-rat-seeing neighbor jumped inside, her dreadlocks flying like Medusa’s own snakes. She glanced from Mama, to Caro, back to Mama again.

“What?”

“Get this damn thing off me!” Mama yelled.

The dragon squeaked one more time for good measure, then dropped to the ground. Mama lunged for it; it scrabbled briefly against the wood floor and took off for the hallway. Caro lunged to get between it and Mama –

Who was on her knees, her arms pinned back by the neighbor, eyes wide, her chin shiny with spit.

“What was it?” Mama said in a hoarse voice.

“Are you all right, sweetie?”

There was no sign of that dreamy look in her neighbor’s eye: this glance was all business.

“I’m okay. I’m not hurt,” Caro said.

And then, “I’m not hurt,” with a laugh.

“The hell was it?”

“I think you should leave now,” the neighbor said, tugging so that Mama grunted and climbed to her feet with a stumble.

“What was it?”

“I can tell by your voice you’re not from here,” the neighbor said. “Why don’t you get on home, now?”

“She came on the bus,” Caro said.

Mama had left a bag in the hallway. There was a return bus ticket in the side pocket. Open ended. Of course.

“Are you stupid?” Mama barked when the artist crowded her into the hallway and pressed the ticket into her hand. “Didn’t you see that thing?”

“This is a safe place,” the neighbor said, staring up at Mama. “Protected. I don’t think you’re a very safe person. You should leave now.”

“I’m not damn well –“

Must’ve been some kind of martial arts training. Anyhow, whatever the artist did to Mama’s elbow, Mama went down the stairs with her and out the door.

“I’m not leaving my daughter in this hell hole with some kind of goddamn monster,” Mama said at the end.

The dramatic intensity of this was greatly lessened by her saying it through a cab window.

“Oh, I think you are,” the neighbor said. “I think you’re leaving her here for good.”

She slapped the cab, and it left.

“Well!” she said, “sorry about your door! I’ll make sure Mike knows to put that on my rent and not yours.”

“I don’t even know how to thank you,” Caro said.

“Oh honey,” the neighbor said. “Just bake me some brownies or something some time. It all comes out in the wash.”

She peered into Caro’s apartment on the way back upstairs.

“I didn’t know this place was protected quite so literally. I’m definitely going to use that.”

Caro lay on the floor in front of her sofa and took a while to alternate between hysterical laughter and hysterical sobs. It seemed the thing to do.

When her voice felt as if it might be trustworthy, she called Nana, who took her own turns between laughing and crying during the high points of the story and set Caro off again.

Caro didn’t see the dragon the first night, and fretted. The second night, she put down coins and sat on the sofa. The dragon came out a couple of hours after dark, walking slowly.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

The dragon swiveled its little head toward her and heaved a squeaky sigh.

It looked around at the coins on the floor and sighed again; put a penny in its mouth and walked slowly toward the back hallway, exhaustion plain in every scale on its tiny body.

“Oh!” Caro said, and put her hands to her chest, laughed a little.

She gathered up the coins and took them to the hallway next to the bathroom door.

“Rrr!” the dragon squeaked when it saw her sitting there, the coins in her hands. But it took them from her, one by one, disappearing in between into a shadow under the sink that during daytime was a plain piece of wall. Up close, its body was hot, and it smelled of copper.

“Hff!” it sniffed when it took the last one.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Go get some rest.”

“Oh baby, I know it’s all my fault,” Nana said on the phone the next day.“I just couldn’t stop her.”

“It’s okay, Nana. It’s all okay.”

“How are you going to thank your little friend?”

“I’ve got a good plan.”

She went to the bank and stood in line to see an actual teller. Slid a twenty across the counter.

“I’d like to exchange this, please, for dollar coins. The gold Sacagawea ones, if you have them.”

#Virginia M. Mohlere #The Thing in the Wall wants your Small Change #short story

[calliopesquill]

A Year in the Life: Chapter 5

Guess what! I decided to post before midnight tonight lol 

You all are seriously amazing, you know that? The responses I have been getting for these last chapters have been incredible and I can't thank you enough.

Special thanks to all of you who left me such wonderful comments. It really makes my day every time I get one and there are a few these last couple weeks that almost made me cry. So really, thank you. 

With that said, on to chapter 5!

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Chapter 5: La Familia Rivera

         Nell needed to start setting alarms when she worked. She’d gotten so buried in her novel planning and concept sketches that it was three in the afternoon before she finally surfaced, and that only happened because her stomach had let out a growl loud enough to wake the dead. She pushed herself away from the table with a groan, letting out a muttered curse as she stretched, her back protesting at the hunched position she’d been in for the last three hours. It was definitely time for a break.

         She shuffled across the kitchen to her fridge, only to find it almost totally empty. Right… I was supposed to go grocery shopping this morning.

         She sighed, shutting the fridge again. Better to do that now, and maybe grab an early supper on the way. She was too hungry to cook. But first she should probably get dressed. Her style may be casual, but it definitely wasn’t “leave the house in pajamas” casual. Nell traded her pajamas for a pair of comfortable flower-printed shorts and a white tee shirt, twisting her hair up in a messy bun as she stepped into her pink ballet flats. After a quick double-check that both her keys and wallet were still in her purse, she was out the door.

         As she walked, she went over what she’d come up with for her new novel so far. It would be narrated by the guitar itself, a twist that she would not be revealing until near the end. She didn’t have much for her protagonist yet, but was toying with the idea of him stealing the guitar for himself at first, so the story could be something of a redemption arc for him as well. There would be no familial connection between the hero and the guitar’s original owner, however. She wanted to tell her own story, not just re-tell something that had already happened.

         She was contemplating the design of her main character when she was nearly knocked off her feet by a small, bony form. The dog continued on past her to dance around the feet of an old woman in a blue button-down dress.

         “ ¡Oye! ” The woman protested, shifting the grocery bags she carried to one arm so she could shoo the dog away. “ ¡Abajo! Abajo, perro tonto. ¡No saltar! ”

         The dog, completely ignoring her commands to get down, jumped at her again, knocking her bags from her hands in its attempts to smother her with affection. It only backed away when it saw her reaching for the sandal on her foot, electing instead to plop down next to her and begin chewing on its own leg.

         Muttering to herself, the woman began to pick up her spilled groceries, letting out a muttered oath when she saw the strap on one of the bags had snapped. She looked up when she saw a second set of hands gathering up the spilled fruit and reached for her sandal again, prepared to fight off any tonto stupid enough to try to steal from her. But instead of running off they pulled a folded-up cloth bag from inside their purse and began putting the spilled food inside to make it easier to carry.

         Nell stood, brushing off the road dust, and offered the woman a hand to help her up. “ ¿Estás bien? ” She asked, picking up the bag of groceries she’d helped pick up.

         “ Si, gracias ,” the woman answered, then shot a fond but vaguely frustrated look towards the dog that still sat at their feet. “No thanks to you, silly dog.”

         “Is he yours?”

         “He thinks he is,” the woman shrugged. “He comes to the house sometimes, looking for food. He is very fond of my grandson.” Now that she could actually get a good look at the person who had helped her, she recognized the young woman who often sat in the plaza. “You are one of Coro’s tenants, si? The artist.”

         “My name’s Nell,” she said with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you. Did you want some help getting these back home?”

         “Ah, I will be fine,” the woman said, waving her off. “As long as someone --” Here she shot another look at the dog, who gave her a harmless doggy smile. “--does not jump on me again.”

         “Aw, you won’t jump again, will you?” Nell asked the dog, giving him a scratch behind the ears. The dog gave a small huff, leaning into her hand as his skinny tail beat a tattoo against the ground. “Cuz you are a good boy.”

         The dog barked the affirmative.

         “You are a nice girl,” the woman decided. “My grandson, he says very good things about you.”

         “Your grandson?”

         “ Si. My Miguelito. He talks to you sometimes when you draw at the plaza.”

         “Oh, you’re Miguel’s abuelita !” Now it all made sense. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last. And that must mean that this handsome boy here is Dante.”

         Elena snorted. ‘Handsome’ was not exactly the word that she would have chosen. What he was was dumb as a bag of rocks, but he was sweet-natured and very dedicated to her grandson, and the rest of the family by extension, so she’d developed a soft spot for the silly thing. “You are very good with dogs,”  she noted, seeing Dante roll over so Nell could scratch his belly.

         “I always wanted one growing up,” Nell confessed as she gave in to his desire for pets. “But my dad was allergic to the hair. Couldn’t handle cats either, so I never had a chance to have a pet growing up. And then after I moved out on my own I couldn’t really afford one so… “ She shrugged.

         “This one seems to like you,” Elena said with a small nod. “He is very foolish, but he knows good people. You will come for dinner.”

         “Thank you. I -- wait, what? Oh, no, you don’t have to. That’s very generous but --”

         But Elena overrode her protests. “Nonsense. You will come tonight and meet the family.”

         “I --- okay.” What else could she say? “Is there anything you’d like me to bring? I could make dessert.”

         “No, no. I have all that I need. You will come tonight for six and we will have a nice dinner.”

         “Ah… Okay. Thank you.”

         Despite protests, Nell insisted on escorting her home anyway, telling her to keep the cloth bag that the extra groceries had been carried in as Elena’s other one was broken. The moment the door had closed Nell dashed off down the street to the grocery store.

         She ended up making chocolate chip cookies, though she’d had to borrow a pair of baking trays and a serving platter from Tia Caro. She had been told not to bring anything but she had been strictly mother-trained not to arrive empty-handed when it came to dinner invitations. As the cookies cooled, Nell traded her shorts and tee-shirt for a casual emerald green maxi dress topped with a candy pink knit bolero sweater. Mindful that she was visiting a family of shoemakers, she paired her outfit with a pretty pair of black and gold strappy sandals. Her hair she tied back in a low, looped ponytail that would keep the curls out of her face, but would not give her a headache as the night went on.

         She walked carefully towards the Rivera home, praying that she wouldn’t trip and spill all of the cookies before she got there. It might have been early October but to Nell it still felt like mid-summer. The leaves would have just started to change color back home and the neighborhood kids would all be in a tizzy picking their Halloween costumes. She smiled fondly at the thought. Halloween had always been her favorite holiday, though more for the costumes and the candy than the spook-factor. Funny enough, Nell could not handle horror movies or haunted houses at all. Her friends had tricked her into watching A Haunting in Connecticut one night and she barely slept for a week.

         She’d be missing Halloween this year, but would be trading it out for her first experience with Dia de los Muertos. Already people had begun decorating, draping colorful cut-paper banners between the buildings. There were areas of Santa Cecilia where the little flags were always present, but there were always more come fall. It was a little early for people to be putting out the elaborate calaveras figures that were also used to decorate, but Nell did spot one or two between her place and the Rivera’s.

         Thankfully she made it to the house without incident and knocked on the front door at promptly five minutes to six.

         The woman who answered the door was just shorter than she was, dressed in a cheerful yellow blouse and a bright pink skirt. Her hair was dark and straight, tied back in a low, loose braid. She had a youthful face, with smile lines just appearing around her eyes  -- some of which, Nell guessed, could be attributed to the toddler at her hip.

         She smiled when she saw her. “Ah, you must be Nell. Mama told us you would be joining us for dinner. Please, come in.” She nudged the door open with her foot, stepping back so Nell could follow her into the courtyard.

         “ Gracias, Señora Rivera. ”

         “Please, call me Luisa,” the woman insisted, resettling her daughter on her hip as she closed the gate. “And this one here is my youngest, Soccoro. Miguel has told us so much about you. He says you are an artist.”

         Nell nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

         “Miguel really likes your books. He wanted to bring them home from the library so he could show his prima Rosa but they did not have them, so he has been showing her on the computer during their lunch hour. She really likes your heroine.”

         “I’m glad they’re enjoying it so far,” Nell smiled. “I had a lot of fun writing it.”

         “It shows. Ah, but you must be tired of carrying that tray. Come, I will show you to the kitchen. Mama should be just about done with dinner.”

         “She told me not to bring anything but I wanted to contribute somehow,” Nell admitted, following Luisa through the courtyard. “I’m better with desserts than actual meals, so I figured chocolate chip cookies would be a good option.”

         Luisa chuckled. “We will have to hide those from Miguel until after dinner. And this one too,” she added as little Soccoro reached for the tray.

         No sooner had she said that than Miguel burst from his room, still dressed in the white button-down shirt and navy pants of his school uniform. “Mama I’m done my -- hey! Nell! What are you doing here?”

         “ Ay! Manners mijo.  Your abuelita met your friend this afternoon and invited her over for dinner.”

         Miguel cocked his head curiously. “How did you meet abuelita?

         “A certain affectionate xolo decided that the best time to give her kisses was when she was carrying groceries,” Nell told him. “I just happened to be nearby and helped her pick them up.”

         He laughed. “Dante is still working on his timing. Are those cookies for us?”

         “After dinner, mijo ,” Luisa told him. “Your abuelita should be almost ready, so why don’t you get out of your school clothes and you can help set the table.”

         “Okay Mama.”

         Abuelita Elena was the undisputed head of the Rivera family. She was a life-long shoemaker but it was in the kitchen where she truly reigned supreme. Everything was timed to the minute on an internal clock born of practice and instinct. Nell, who could not put a perfectly-timed meal on the table if her life depended on it, wanted to applaud. Elena seemed to know everything that was going on in her kitchen at all times and even though her back was turned, she was instantly aware of other people entering her domain.

         “Ah, Luisa! You are just in time,” she said, not even turning around as she plated up a tray of ribs in a spicy-smelling sauce. “And you have brought Penelope with you. Good. I like it when people are on time.”

         “I’m obsessively prompt,” Nell smiled. “And please, call me Nell. I brought some dessert for later. Is there somewhere I can put it where little cookie-monsters won’t be able to help themselves before dinner?”

         Elena gave a short snort of laughter. “Anyone in my house knows there will be no desserts until after their dinner. For now you can put them on top of the fridge.”

         Not for the first time Nell was grateful for her height, as she barely had to stand on tiptoe to set the tray atop the fridge. As with many homes it was a local showcase of family achievements; well-graded assignments and art projects from the varying Rivera cousins covered the door, fixed with colorful magnets. As she turned away she could see Elena glancing at her sandals out of the corner of her eye.

         “Your shoes. They are pretty, but they were not made for you. They are too flat. You move like a dancer, but in those things you walk like a duck.”

         Nell let out a snort of laughter. “I was a dancer, from about the age of four. Quit after I finished university because I moved out and couldn’t pay for lessons anymore. Took three years as an adult to train myself out of that turn-out so I could walk with my feet parallel again.” She still caught herself standing in ballet-third when she wasn’t paying attention. “I have a hard time finding sandals a lot of the time because most of them come in four styles: cute but flat as cardboard so zero arch-support at all, cute but with massive heels and can only be worn for like an hour before you want to die, cute but eat your feet and leave raw patches and blisters, and comfortable but really ugly. There is no place for ugly shoes in my wardrobe.”

         Elena nodded in approval of the sentiment. There was no place in the world for ugly shoes at all in her opinion. Cheap shoes were an insult to her craft. No Rivera would be seen wearing cheap, poorly-constructed shoes, and if she had her way then no friend of the Riveras would either. “Come, you take that plate there and help me set the table and we will talk about shoes that you can wear for the rest of your life.”

         “I -- okay.” What else could she do? She didn’t want to come out and say that custom-made shoes were not a luxury that she could afford right now. Most of what she had had gone into this trip, and though her book sales and commissions were keeping her afloat, they didn’t leave much room for luxuries. She took the plate and followed Elena into the chaos that is the dining room.

         Seeing the number of people gathered, Nell stopped short and stared. When Elena invited her to dinner she didn’t think it would be with the whole family. It looked like half of Santa Cecilia had managed to fit itself around the table.

         “Come, come. Put that plate down right here. Si, right next to the tamales. Manny, Benny, stop teasing your prima Rosa and come sit down. Abel, you shuffle down and make room for our guest. Todos, esto es Penelope. Penelope, mi familia.”

         “Ah...hi everyone.” Nell set the plate down and gave a shy wave. “Please, call me Nell.” Should she start wearing a sign? She really felt like she should start wearing a sign. Something simple like ‘ Please do not call me Penelope until I am over the age of 65. Thank you.’

         A seat was left for her between Elena and a woman who introduced herself as Miguel’s Tia Gloria. She then introduced Nell to her twin boys, Benny and Manny, who were a couple of years into elementary school. They weren’t particularly interested in introductions, and were much more focused in which of them could stuff the most food in their mouth at one time.

         Miguel’s father Enrique, a tall man with a dark moustache, passed a platter of food to his wife before turning to Nell. “So, Miguel says you’re an artist.”

         The question was offered casually but Nell had the distinct impression that what she was being asked was actually something very different. “Yes, sir. I write graphic novels -- comic books -- but I take other commissions as well. I’m setting my next series in a place similar to Santa Cecilia so I’m living here for a few months as I work on it because I want to get an authentic feel for the culture and the lifestyle and the architecture. I spend a lot of time doing reference sketches in Mariachi Plaza. It’s got really great atmosphere and that’s something I really wanted to capture. Then that one over there --” She nodded at Miguel. “--got curious one day and decided he wanted to know who the weird turista was who kept writing everything down in a giant notebook.”

         “You should see her sketchbook. It’s really good,” Miguel told them. “She was drawing the bell tower yesterday and it was just with pencils and it was perfect! It looked like one of those old-timey pictures.”

         “We read your comic at lunch sometimes,” added Rosa, who sat a few seats down from her cousin. “We just got to the part where Polaris and Astra start working together.”

         “Have you gotten to the mirror incident yet?” Nell asked.

         Rosa shook her head. “Not yet.”

         “Let me know when you get there. That was one of my favourite chapters in the whole series.”

         The conversation flowed freely throughout dinner, catching up with the goings-on at school. Abel was taking some online CAD courses for the business, and there was some discussion between the other family members on designs and techniques that they were experimenting with. Miguel mentioned briefly how he’d started reading Dante’s Inferno , which had the entire family in stitches when Benny and Manny asked how the little doggy wrote a book. Nell also got a more in-depth history of the business itself.

         “I think it’s really admirable what Imelda did,” Nell said honestly. “Running a business is really difficult, and at the time, being a female entrepreneur would have been that much more challenging. Never mind being a single parent on top of that. So that she created such a successful business that has stayed in the family for so long is really incredible. Add the complication of foreign investment and multinational companies with giant factories, it must be challenging sometimes to stay competitive.”

         “ Si , it is sometimes,” Miguel’s father answered with a shrug. “Much of our business is local. Most people here, they would rather be able to see and feel the thing that they are buying, so that is a benefit to us.”

         “We did get that magazine placement a couple of years ago,” Gloria added. “That telenovela star. What was her name? She mentioned us in an interview and wore a pair of our boots for a photo shoot.”

         “There is always a market for quality custom work,” Elena nodded. “Work that lasts. That is a legacy worth protecting. Would you like some more tamales?”

         Nell leaned back in her chair and shook her head. “No, gracias. They are delicious but I am stuffed.”

         “No, no, there is plenty of room left. You are so skinny! Have another.”

         “You know, I think I’ve heard that from everyone at Tia Caro’s building,” Nell laughed as she accepted one more tamale. “I think she might have decided to adopt me. Ten bucks says she must be half-way through the paperwork by now.”

         Elena gave a nod of approval. “Caro is a good woman. She takes care of her familia. ” It didn’t matter if they were related by blood or simply lived in her building. All were considered family. And that, to Elena was the most important thing.

         How anyone at that table had any room for cookies after that meal, Nell had no idea. But somehow they did, and managed to empty the tray in record time.

         “Have you figured out the plot yet for your new comic?” Miguel asked as he and Rosa started clearing up the dishes.

         “Part of it,” Nell answered. “I was working on some of the background and lore this morning. The story is going to center around a cursed guitar.”

         Miguel paused, setting down the plates that he had been stacking, memories of her inquiries about is own guitar immediately springing to mind. “How did it get cursed?”

         She hesitated for a moment. As much as she really wanted to be able to use this idea for her books, she worried it might hit a little too close for Miguel. She would leave it for him to decide if he was comfortable with her continuing, or if he wanted her to write something different.  So she gave a cursory explanation of the concept of the tsukumogami and how the guitar had developed a spirit of its own. “And what the guitar wants is to finally see justice done for its murdered owner, and to be played again by someone who is worthy.”

         “Cool!” Rosa declared. “Who killed him?”

         “No spoilers,” Nell grinned at her. “But if you guys want I can show you some of the concept art I’ve got later.”

         Miguel hesitated, not entirely sure how he felt about the idea. On the one hand, it was a little weird knowing that part of his family’s history, even a small part, was going to be used in a book. But if there was anyone that he trusted to do it respectfully, it was Nell. He’d caught the look she gave him when she explained her idea and knew that she would not proceed with it without his go-ahead. And aside from that… a graphic novel series about a sentient guitar would be really, really cool.

         He flashed a crooked, one-dimpled smile and nodded. “Can’t wait!”

         When Miguel met with Nell that night, he knew that he was right to trust her. What she had planned did briefly allude to the history of Hector and Ernesto, but not in any way that would be recognizable to anyone but him.

         In her story, the guitar was a family heirloom. The father was a brilliant musician with a poet’s heart. He and his wife had two sons. The eldest son was bold and adventurous and loved music too, though more for the attention that his talent brought him than for the music itself. The younger brother was just like his father, who loved the music for its own sake. And when the father died, it was the younger son that he gave the guitar to. But the older brother was a jealous sort, always seeing himself as second place, even though he was the oldest. He was determined to be liked, and cultivated a fine and charming manner in order to endear himself to those around him, but he could never match the simple sincerity of his younger brother. They were both talented, but when they performed together it was easy to see whose heart was really in the music. They travelled together, performed together, and all that time the older brother’s jealousy festered within him. Until one night, after a particularly bad fight and a few too many drinks, he smothered his brother in his sleep.

         The death was mourned as a tragedy, a sudden failure of the heart in a time where forensic evidence and investigation barely existed. Nobody even considered the possibility of murder.

         The older brother inherited the guitar by default, and did become a fairly well renowned musician on his own. He would never admit that the guitar that had become his trademark never sang as beautifully for him as it did for his father and brother. He performed until his death in 1931, when an earthquake caused the roof of the theater he was rehearsing in to collapse on top of him, burying him alive.

         The guitar was salvaged from the wreckage without a scratch on it and was held in private collections until the mid-1990’s, when it was installed as part of a music history exhibit in a local museum. Stories say that sometimes, late at night, you can still hear the sad melody it plays, mourning its lost musico.

         “You gotta write that,” Miguel insisted after hearing what she’d planned. “What happens next? Is that it?”

         Nell laughed. “Nah, that’s more of the backstory that sets up the main plot. The main character is a paranormal investigator who heard the stories of the ghostly music, so he breaks into the museum at night. Next thing he knows he’s seeing ghosts everywhere, and the guitar quite literally seems to have a mind of its own and won’t leave him be.”

         Miguel snickered. This was going to be fun.

         “For real, though. You’re okay with me writing this? If you’re not comfortable with it, you’ve got to tell me. There’s no time-limit so I have all the time in the world to think up something else.”

         He shook his head. “No, I like it. It’s different. And I like the guitar being the narrator. That’s kinda cool.”

         Nell sighed with relief. “Okay. Okay. Cool. But like, if you ever change your mind, let me know.”

         “I will,” Miguel promised.

         They walked for a while longer, taking in the quiet, their path taking them past the painted gate of the Rivera house. Dante trotted companionably at their side. They’d discovered when they met up that night that the little xolo could indeed see them when they were projecting, and after spending several minutes jumping all over them, he designated himself their official companion for the evening.

         “So what did you and abuelita talk about when you were touring the shop?”

         “Ah, not much. Got a little more on the history of the business. Some of the process. Your abuelita is really determined to get me into a decent pair of shoes.” Nell chuckled.

         Miguel snickered. “Fifty pesos says you’re in a pair if Rivera shoes by Christmas.”

         “You’re on. And I’ll put my winnings towards buying my pretty new Rivera shoes after New Years.”          

         “Hey!” He laughed. “That’s cheating.”

         “You set the rules, not me.” She reminded him. For a moment she was silent, then she spoke again. “Your abuelita is really proud of you, you know. Your whole family is. You can see it in their faces when they hear you play. I’m glad I got to meet them tonight.”

         “They really like you,” Miguel told her. “And Tia Gloria really wants your cookie recipe. Benny and Manny would have eaten all of them if they could have.”

         Nell laughed. “I’m glad I passed inspection. They were definitely a little concerned about me at first, not that I blame them.”

         “What? Why?”

         “Because it’s one thing for their fourteen year old to have adult friends among the local musicians, but it’s a little different when he’s suddenly friends with a random tourist eleven years his senior.”

         She had a point. And it wasn’t like either of them could explain the particular circumstances behind them becoming friends to begin with, not without earning themselves a happy little trip to the hospital in the city for a psych evaluation.

         What Nell didn’t tell him was how worried his family had been for him over the past few months. They’d known he wasn’t sleeping well, but as he refused to tell them what was going on there was nothing they could do. He’d been doing so much better since summer ended. He no longer came to the breakfast table with tired eyes, dragging his feet -- or at least, no more than any other young teenager. A question had been left unspoken of whether he had told Nell about what had been bothering him, to which she’d had to claim complete ignorance.  

         “Side note: I don’t know how the hell you survived that music ban,” Nell confessed, shaking her head. “I’d have completely lost my mind.” Music had always in some way been on the periphery of her life. She couldn’t imagine being cut off from it.

         “I felt like I was some days,” he laughed. “And I was raised into it. Mama had to give it up when she married Papa and I don’t know how she did it.”

         “People will do a lot for love. If it meant being with your Dad, it was probably a sacrifice she was willing to make.”

         Miguel nodded. He’d almost made the same one before Hector and Mama Imelda had sent him back. To be able to return home and have a chance to save Hector, he’d have given up music without a moment’s regret. “Could you do it?”

         “Give up music for someone?” Nell asked. “Don’t know. There’s never been someone that mattered enough that I would consider it. If it was the right person, I think I could. But then if it was the right person, I wouldn’t have to.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And there ends chapter 5! We met the Riveras, Nell finally got her plot sorted out, and we got to see Dante!

Next chapter will be the start of Dia de los Muertos, so buckle up buttercups because it's going to be a wild ride.

#coco #pixar coco #coco fanfiction #coco 2017 #miguel rivera #a year in the life

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I said is a good bid I like John I saw a lot of a last request guysand on to stop every sinand at 50 minutes yeah those are new socks that five I guide the reader to haul the suspense I try glideand add traction controland now the trikes got a big improvement this year were seeing Mario is Mario I night I severally know you got any magenta Chinese got major overall this year thanks guys every sellout thank you very much any last request some Mike legacy yeah I could figure out a is a 48 so I was out of the 48 as is the electric are on the Blue Max as they call it Blue Max nothing different on the Fortier guys you will you will come as a question of the details of the 48 know the 40 I’m sure use a custom paint color so that can you look differently at 48 the 42 usually painted on the minor regular 40 right now they added the case on a 48 the Blue Max different that the custom color that electricity lines on it my favorite like so farand I’m a fan so far the ethics field is newand fresh I think the mass by five to buy a brand new bike this year it was a CDL I like the new CVO road by Xeroxand I seriously but still it’s hard to say guys that I still love my street by special 35 guys in my history by special again yeah the diner is gone sorry I no more Dina guys for United guys out there the new soft those are better for as much as people don’t like to except that then you thought the frame is better than the old Dina’s so suck it upand gastric Bob or low rider Arafat Bob because they are better bikes I got close friend employees are giving her Dina’s right now to get a new soft out because they’re coming to the reality that the new framing is not the frame is better fly guys on the signoff in the uppermost in our if you want to see some new stuff you can realign this videoand check out some of the silicon thought you got The 2020 roadster which is’s performance focused sportsterand I think that indicator of performance is going to be the frontand despite got a outside 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performance focused nature of this bike making tachometer front center in day lets you know exactly where you are me the engine gradsand as you shiftand downshift more accurately little more confidence this is the 3. 5 million words according to Caro we’re taught Lord Acton’s axiom all power corruptsand absolute power corrupts absolutely I believe that when I started these books but I don’t believe it’s always true anymore what I believe is always true about power is that power always reveals when you have enough power to do what you always wanted to do NEC with the guy always wanted to do so that an email that quickly mean the thing we spent the last eight seasons assessing overand are now months late getting to our spicy hot takes a big thingand say the stories don’t need to have a point or weren’t intended to have a point that this was intended to have a point since it ended with Dragon burning the symbol for such a character driven show really the main issue down to that the charactersand we will start with the fact that by the end of the show the Indy outlined a lot of plot points without giving much thought as to how characters might be motivated to reach those plot points to a huge chunk of season eight is spent on dialogue rationalizing plot points that don’t really make sense the student be half as many as a beautiful green snow should do nothing today lifted the moment the case fell the battle was over to a friend that just burned 54 in the county know they don’t make sense of they have to spend a lot of time rationalizing them is on memory keep all the stories in order for the plot to progress as outlined everyone especially characters in earlier seasons were defined by the cunningand intelligent decayand a total dummy woman is my season eight this was you might say foreshadowed in season seven by little fingers downfall which only works of every character involved in the subplot took a bunch of stupid pills that you little finger doesn’t like that Ari is back so he tries to pit the two sisters against each otherand play some surviving for some reason despite knowing what an untrustworthy ass hat he is that I now switcheroo stand accused of metadata stand accused of treason how do you want charges Bayless hello everyone knocks down many an intelligence unit watches this worthless subplot bleed out on the floor because the character of little finger is redundant nowand we don’t know what to do with him so goodbye to it takes Ariand sunset entire season to realize they’re being played over nothing basically but here in season seven everyone cut a case in addendum’s which only worsens in season eight forgot about beerand sleep in the idea that the sisters were on the little fingerand were just playing along the whole time is good head cannon in theory by well here’s a quote from Isaac instead writing plays brand actually seen that clearly got cut a short scene with salsa where she knocks on brands doorand says I need your help or something along those lines so basically as far as I know the story was that it suddenly occurred to something that she had a huge CCTV department at her discretionand it might be a good idea to check with him first before she gets her own sister so he just ranand ran tells her everything she’s known she’s like oh no sounds you have been done duty after the should show that was season five sums onto stand there happy that at least one of the women got to be in charge without having to be put down Michael Geller that if we made for a moment be honest with ourselves her entire character has been one massive train wreck ever since season fiveand little fingers like hey Mary the son of the guy who murdered your entire familyand she’s like all okay this is the fast track to Raytown escapeand in season seven she completes her evolutionand the lady finger stripped of all Pecos because to be in the female empowerment shedding your humanity until you are a stone cold badass but you know the kind you only does some hideously inhumane executions to be clear I am not on the sponsor he trained I just think they popped a squad over her character just like they did everyone else my season eight everyone’s gushing over how smart something is she’s evolved into her final form unlike in earlier seasons where her intelligence would come out for these moments of her being more quick thinking that people expected and it would be bad the amount of ore by her playingand her enemies arrogance so you’ll be outside the gates the bank doesn’t discuss plans for super goes through grace to write to close reading about God’s they see my brother will you pretend she now gets these girl badass moments that built not on the lesson she learned includes landing is set on high sciences earlier defining attributes was her compassion that she cared about people despite the pain she was in the books she never loses essence of compassion but get smarter about figuring out who is worthy of itand who is playing her for their own advantage here in the show that warmth is totally extinguished compassionand appeals to goodness her friends not as a strength but as immature weakness that she needs to outgrow sheep little guy was she dreams you never learn new empowerment sunset doesn’t act like someone who would take pity on a drunk night in Joffrey’s wrath or someone who would have any ounce of empathy for someone like the house like she didn’t seem to something the Crips doesn’t bother trying to call me other womenand children what she did during the siege of King’s Landing in season two new empowerment song to spend the whole battle trash talking to NARA’s between final Dragon Queen who unlike salsa is out there risking her life out the tool will be dead season it keeps telling us what something is she thought that she smart that she shrewd but nothing in her actions support that earlier something would know to keep her mouth shut about someone she was suspicious of me while new empowerment sunset won’t shut up about how much she doesn’t like to NARA’s Y during some of the entire Kings landing storyline keeps herself alive by feigning loyalty to Joffreyand Circe with you paying for the cost have mercy on us all to me even if she did plan on undermining to NARA’s I guess the Indy kind of forgot that one of salsa’s most important lessons is when to feign respect to Delhi what dragons eat anyway whatever they want something evolution mirrors the Starks as a whole the compassionand ability to define the Starks is one of their biggest asset in the end they’re no better than the Lancers’s trust you will don’t know you know she’s not one of us change their house motto from winter is coming to you got mine because that’s female empowerment of the show runners I’m glad I got raped actually Mr the hound it made me a cool girl badass finger stayed in the so something is a northern separatist now for some reason even though now is not the time they remember what happened lost dragons both yet nothing nothing happened when a on the Conger invaded the North Bend the knee immediatelyand join the seven kingdoms without a fightand nobody died the countryside was not burning aided the time was called the King who knelt for a reason I guess someone kinda forgot they remember what happened lost dragons both sworn I read the lowest king in the north was tarring stock human needs my ancestor egg until Gary there are cases to be made for an independent North doing well in the past this whole situation in winter felt we have written for season eight data actually makes pretty good case for United seven kingdoms will you sure dead howling to feed the great the good thing we got to reach a part of the seven kingdoms which also happens to support the nurses claim it wasn’t even that they had it on lot before the NARA showed up with all these mouths to feed this time he wouldn’t have enough food special enough the armies of the North back to defend with how are we going to feed our own people was a problem at the beginning of the season is set upand promptly ignored what dragons eat anyway you know what salsa it doesn’t matter don’t worry your empowered little head about itand join us dragonsand supplies from other regions now that it’s winterand you all have a common enemy you seem determined to dislike like they did yesterdayand will get to the nearest but what they did the sauces depressing sauces only purpose the season is to have an unfounded suspicion of the nearest which only proves to be found in when the nurse does something completely nonsensical otherwise the nurse has essentially given all of her resources to defend winter felt east on the promise of the guy in chargeand salsa still like now I don’t like the cut of her gym Y by the end of the stupid dumb battle of winter felt the nurses prove yourself worthy of being a queen about as well as one can expect in this universe is forging alliances doing battle keeping her promises to her followersand to her allie The stink eye over to NARA’s makes no sense she never even lived to the target area is hurting her family the operative word Matt King burned her grandfatherand uncle to death but she sure did Circe you know their common enemy whose family wiped her own out sauces mistrust of the nurse only makes sense if you’re writing from the end forward telling us she is smartand her intelligence is really just writer clairvoyance giving salsa suspicions without giving her any reason to have them other than the writers know how the show will landand they want something to look smart Dragon Queen does not have to do them or maybe I do know sauces jealous because the nurse is pretty surely they would never come I anyway within the fan favorite recall that my seasoning held late season five is nothing to doand no reason to be here that people like him so here he is planning a different ending for bronze plate when I had some character development seven during the Lutra attack Ron loses his goal in a very symbolic moment even leaves it to risk his life in a big way to save Jamie with no mercenary reason for doing so is this a sign of character development is Braun changing his ways knowand guess who gets the worst subplot of all time you do you do you boys are of goldplated so Circe asked Bron to go murder her brothers as you do she do the trees Bron fast travels to winter felland holds the Met arrow pointand tells them he thinks their side will win because dragons so he blackmails Jamieand Terryand into giving him our God will hike better than okay so for those of you playing the home game high garden is the capital of the reach of the now extinct house Tyrelland the breadbasket of the seven kingdoms the most populous yes there are probably still many Tyrell’s next in line to claim the reach to say nothing of the other great houses in the reach with a much better claim to theand install certain no name is Lord of high garden because of black male under a queen that was only clean for five minutesand yeah that’s going to go over well with all these other lesser houses in the reach high God but okay we do not see Bron again into the finale where not only is now the master of coin money before the rules but hearing is apparently made good on that whole promise made it gunpoint thing so Braun will go to Fargo paramount reach of most of you should have written offand that good night liked Ariana Harris but okay here he is still cooland in a season has turned pretty much all the charactersand the stupid dumb dumb Zakaria situation for shit because the plot needs them to be open there is one character who tactical nosedive probably hurts the most one character was arguably done dirtier than the nearest season it’s Lord Ferris the best there is the master of whispers becomes the master of loud treasonous conversations great creek like Ron Taveras is a fan favorite but the show runners clearly had no idea what to do it after season for because his character starts wildly deviating from his passion but like to stuff you should select to pick up your shit out of I guess in his case they’d figure right around this laterand they did so by making the smartest guy in the realm of total dumb dumb there is in the books wants to instill a guy on the throne who may or may notand probably is not be the lost son of Ray Gardner egg on target areaand the next in line to the throne if we have a target area restoration fans call him saying on the show we don’t have they gone but there is need something to do so at the beginning of season five interiorand cross the narrow sea with the express intent to support the nurse now even though there is totally try to have her assassinated in season 1 last night it asked how to I do would have to be done apparently she’s willing to move past that is when the training of the Eno in a world where executions are routine this seems like kind of a reasonable threat he has tried to have her assassinated beforeand here we are one season later again with poisoning dragons but then in season eight he will she make a sad face at dinner meeting you’re not really getting to me runners I guess she does ignore his shitty advice which has no consistently been shitty ever since they got to West Roseand is in this case as it turns out wrong from a tactical perspective they do in the battle easilyand with minimal casualtiesand know they did next need to restand no food was never an issueand resources were never an issue so why bother having this conversation but there is finds out that John Snow is the actual egg on target areaand was he has the better claim to the throne does what he wantsand you know what is the season for some trees in the well I will dedicate myself to seeing you behind because I want to dragons in the best rationality can come up with Rivera’s wanting to support John over to NARA’s is the philosophy that the best person to rule is the person who specifically doesn’t want to rule if you consider the best to be someone who doesn’t want Robert was neither not local recently have no interest in being well meaning as John keeps failing upward so that tracks mentioned nominally being for the good of the realmand then immediately reversing your state the moment you see a young guy whose neighborhood County love him be like wow yeah that some leadership material right there is a map which makes them more appealing to the rules of Western the problem is only makes sense if you are the audienceand you seen John Snow’s temperament for the last eight seasons there is on the other hand has not there is no reason to like or trust John Snow other than he likedand trusted Ned gas who wasn’t actually his father anyway there’s only just met John Snowand in universe has no reason to think that he’s a better more tempered choice than to NARA’s unless he knows what the audience we the audience know about John Snow but from the outside looking in the narratives all over the place John Snow’s only been in charge of the North for like a weekand it’s kind of been a shit show came back sure what for the first three episodes of season she’s a war hero dragons that sacrifice half for troopsand one of those dragons to save humanity the only thing she doesn’t upset for that mildly questionable is the patient about wanting to takings landing except she’s not wrong about anything mentally have left exhausted the fight better if you have time to restand recuperate well clearly they don’t I promised you I would look you in the yardand speak directly if I ever thought you were making a mistake well maybe your advice shouldn’t have been so uniformly badand maybe he was mad that she went against his advice but that particular advice again ended up being wrong King landing was stupid easy to take because battles are easy now because we need to wrap this shit up the city last time it was attacked by note better than anyone it will for tomorrow’s based on what those dragons have the fortitude of hummingbirds up until now it seemed pretty evenly matched you know whatever Solaris who has sacrificed all the rally much power to the nearest immediately switches sides the second he discovers that there’s a poutyand decisive male alternative with great hair but the nearest has at this point done nothing to make Barris logically want to switch sides one time she went against her advisers advised before this was to save John Snow you know that guy that there is wants to betray to NARA’s forand so he starts telling everyone who John Snow is doing so makes more or less the exact same mistake that led start date in season one only way stupider this is way more recklessand way less motivated than what Ned did in season one John abdicated that other thing you can do I don’t want to never tell John Snow knew a guy who did abdicate until your mama screw this of John Snow Jones there’s a scene in the second episode of game of thrones season one in which John Snow asks Ned Stark met his motherand then responds with this stream burden motion to’s this is eventually going to come to something emotionally charged an important so are you even start with this long section from the moment in many ways John Snow is emblematic of everything wrong with the way the series handled its resolution a big emotional profound set up with the flaccid confusingand meaningless pay off from a plot perspective most of the major letdowns from all of the moment to set up are pretty much tied in the John Snow the Whitewater plot of which John was the key point of view character are plus L equals J the mystery of John’s parentage which kind of indirectly kicked off the plot of the whole show John Snow being brought back from the dead by the Lord of lightand of course John’s love for to NARA’s culminating with her murder done in an uncharacteristically dishonorable way after Johnson is resurrected they keep making this big deal about how he must’ve been brought back for a reason to you wants realize why I don’t know what indeed was the point well considering the call you did during the long night I’m guessing the Lord brought you back so you can blue ball to NARA making her go crazyand ultimately instill brand the broken on the throne good job Lord of late like her plot was this existential threatand been built up for eight seasons predicated on a historical long night that lasted an actual generationand nearly wiped out humanity last generation casos is making was John’s principal antagonistand his main motivation for the run of the show but not only was the big bus easily stepped away by a character that had nothing to do with the Whitewater plot the long night was about as long as a viewing of Titanic with a couple of bathroom breaks downand instead of merely living out humanity it wiped out about one half of one Army seamstress the author argues actually Western Markand we learned that after that’s done it doesn’t enter that the world of men was to preoccupied with political squabbles to worry about an endless fortified zombies because all you need to do in the existential threat is the one special knife of no importance is a recurring problem which ties in with what we were talking about the last episode subverting expectations despite the fact that it doesn’t work for the story are used training as a faceless man builds not at all to this could have been anyone with a strong tenure jump yeah the fact that the 19 focuses is wrap on Brandon John Snow means that Brandon John Snow should have been involved here is a Mina Jones now needed to do this but he needed some resolution other than spending the battle screaming at his new archenemy on the Dragon tended I also saw one idea that Shearman Cheney killed 19 you know bring that old Kingsley are thankful for that would’ve been cooland give Jamie a reason for existing but enough of it made sense John’s main motivation is farting out of existence without any of his involvementand after it’s overand the only thing that has materially changed apart from the bloodletting of a couple of supporting characters is that the nurse finds out about John being a target areaand which not only has nothing to do with the why walkers really think they have in this world it probably would have happened eventually anyway but with regard to John learning the truth about who he is never really reacts to it the King go talk to supervisionand protection of the realm of revelation is momentous especially someone like John Snow whose entire identity was wrapped around his pastor Ness starts Boston installed bus the dog Boston is about the ship. And I saw the importance of being awake and after I had my child I thank God every day for knowing what I know about these fucking every single one of them told their victims what we did is a secret don’t tell mommy or daddy that’s not a roll that’s how they roll but the story I wanted to you about my daughter was when she was an infant she was probably about a month or two old and you know they were people in the family that didn’t that had a problem with me for some reason they would always call DCF and send DCF to my house all the fucking time never came to visit the child will call DCF down these yet that child is sick and needs to be examined when this motherfucker has never been to the house to visit the fucking child once right now is ridiculous in itself so one day I get a call DCF and S Department of child children and families are important so I called these yet is cold it is rainy that they right and the DCM woman says we got an anonymous tip that your daughter was sick and we need to date we need to take a downtown for an examination

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Treats For You (M)

↳ PAIRING: yuzuru hanyu × reader

↳ PLOT: You tend to a nervous Yuzu the night before a skating competition.

↳ WORD COUNT: 9k | one shot | domestic au, smut

↳ WARNINGS ⚠️ pwp, dom/sub, feeding yuzu treats, pegging, some very wet oral (m giving), cum play, oh lord it gets graphic, fingering, crying, mommy kink, yuzu’s crazy back arch, rough sex, masochism, aftercare, some asthma talk

↳ CARO’S NOTE: inspired by this juicy gif. PS: since i usually post for other fandoms — if you’re unfamiliar with yuzu, visit this intro post. 

Just two minutes after you switch off the light, he starts fidgeting. 

Repeatedly, all while messing around with his pillow. Soon enough, the blanket you share becomes all disheveled. 

You turn your head towards the window to check. All as usual. The blinds are perfectly drawn to shut out the moonlight. Meanwhile, the humidifier infuses the air in gentle ten-minute intervals. Not even the heater is bumbling tonight. Yuzuru keeps on rustling beside you, still. Some of his plushies fall off the bed, one after the other.

Of course he can’t sleep. It’s daunting, no precaution ever helps. The blanket couldn’t be any more crumpled up at this point.

„I’m so nervous,“ he finally sits up another minute later, causing the duvet to lift. A little sigh follows.

Eventually, you turn in the sheets yourself, now facing him. Or rather, what you can vaguely make out as his crouching silhouette.

„Hey,“ you mumble from your left side of the bed. „You watched all of the performances from last month.“ You pat Yuzu’s pillow, hoping he would sink down on it again. „At least twice. Or more.“

God knows for how many hours he stretched in front of the TV on his spongy blue yoga mat, reviewing mountains of footage with a furrowed brow worthy of a restaurant critic.

Every jump and every turn, analyzed over and over. Down to the millimeter. Even the costume got its fair share of scorn. Too wide there, this detail on the collar could be different, that part gets in the way while doing spins.

„It’s all— I don’t know what I’m lacking these days.“

The silhouette doesn’t look like it’s headed to lie down again for the time being. You reach toward your bedstand’s squiggly designer lamp. After fumbling about in the dark, you find the bulky switch at its bottom. On goes the light again. Perhaps a bit too bright, both of you squint hard.

„It’s not like you’re dropping to second place anytime soon.“

Given how you thought you could call it a day before Yuzu started to fidget, maybe your voice is not fully resonant yet. It still carries a little unspoken ‚…right?‘ with it. 

As soon as you finish the sentence, you feel how he can pick up on it already. The humidifier dryly comments by puffing out a cloud of lavender steam.

„I don’t really know,“ Yuzu retorts twisting, going into a deep shrug. He is completely sunken now.

„Looks like a simple big hug won’t do, hm.“

Yuzuru ends up nodding. It’s more knowing than admitting. But you don’t like the sense of resignation that comes with it, at all. The problem goes a little deeper than just motivating him with the stats he ironically already knows, times better than you, even.

It’s been going on for the entire day. The last time he made such a grouchy face at his videos was around Christmas. Back then, he couldn’t quite get the jumps right at the start of his routine. But now? His scores are just fine. Not to mention the jumps.

„I didn’t think you were lacking,“ you say. „You just fell once during training.“

And that was because he was fooling around during a break, not in the serious exercises.

„Sorry for bothering you,“ he buries his face in the blanket, beginning to ruffle his hair all over the place. Frustrated Friday-evening-Yuzu always does that, but the energy doesn’t seem to go anywhere this time.

The murmur of his stomach isn’t hard to miss either. You lay your hand on Yuzu’s back.

„Is it because you didn’t eat?“

You wonder what he had for dinner.

Only more guilty stomach growling reaches you as a reply. Figures: He skipped it, and lunch, too. His breakfast was so frugal, you don’t even remember whether he had his milk or not. 

Yuzu was already pacing around in the living room at that point. Recalling the tricky parts of the upcoming choreography, treading his feet into the carpet, humming the steady rhythm of his skating program.

„Maybe I’m turning into a snickers diva,“ a muffled little comment emerges from where his chaotic hair sticks out from the duvet. At this point, his face is all buried there.

„I mean. If you allow me to baby you…“

Three minutes later. You rub your eyes, shift from leg to leg. The kitchen floor is as cold as ever so you regret not putting on socks. Meanwhile, there’s no problem raiding the fridge. 

You could go to the grocery store five times a day and buy everything Yuzu’s mouth waters over — it’d still be stacked to the top. Snacks, veggies, particular sports drinks in weird blue colors, Japanese pickled plums, gyoza left-overs, salad, various fizzy drinks, mostly lemonade.

It’s like that with any food. Out of sight, out of mind. He won’t bother getting up from the yoga mat if he’s fixated on the TV.

After making two distinct picks and checking whether the fridge door closes properly, then bustling at the sink with a towel, you trot back to the bedroom. Equipped. In the meantime, Yuzu has recollected his plushies from the floor, gently aligning them next to his pillow. 

They’re all in their strictly defined place again. You enter just the second after he’s arranged them in the usual half-circle order, centered around his favorite, all-time friendly-eyed Winnie Pooh bear.

„Will you look at that,“ you plant your little kitchen conquests onto the bed, rousing approval noises from Yuzuru who sparkles right at the box and plate you brought along. The grouchy face dissolves, curiosity takes its place. His food reactions will always be the cutest to you.

„Strawberries!“

„From the market. Wasn’t too expensive.“

Freshly doused in the sink, plump and very ripe.

„And rice cakes!“

Truth be told, there couldn’t be a bigger comfort food on his list and you shamelessly exploit the very fact.

„Every competition has a victory meal. Here, fruits first.“

After plopping down on the mattress yourself, you pick up one, then two strawberries. Immediately, Yuzu’s little upturned mouth opens wide as if a tiger baby was yawning. 

He chews more eagerly than you thought. If you pass him pretzel sticks while he reviews things on the TV, he barely eats one or two of them.

„I like these,“ he swallows, prying for the next fruit in your hand already. „Sweet!“

„Tastes best with cake,“ you rearrange your sitting position, making sure to park your cold feet next to Yuzuru’s very warm ones. His toes are readily brushing against yours, Yuzuru perhaps not even noticing they do. He’s too fixated on the little cakes. In all things he does— focus incarnate. He can’t help it.

„Yes, I wanna try!“

You rummage in the packaging you brought along, draw forth a first treat. A second one you set aside on the plate. Tiger baby opens his mouth even wider, in goes the first chunk of the rich delicacy. Lord have mercy on his stomach, it’s 11:15 PM. But what’s normal to him, anyways.

Ten more minutes pass. After the strawberry box is two thirds empty and three juicy rice cakes have embarked on their last journey, Yuzu looks a lot more content than before, even if his bedhead arguably makes him look like a mad scientist. Junior professor Yuzuru Hanyu, escapee from his genius lab that exploded in a blaze of smoke. 

You take it as your task to brush the outlaw strands back into their place with your fingers after pulling out a wet wipe — those with the way too astringent citrus flavor— from your bedstand, cleaning your hands off the rice. It’s not like your hands aren’t sticky on the regular.

To your satisfaction, Yuzu looks like a swaying cat, nestled into his blanket. With no more stomach growling audible, gladly. You put the plate on the bedside table, lean forward to kiss his belly, and shoot him a fracture of an ambiguous gaze.

„So… Fancy getting even more stuffed?“

„Sure! Is it a surprise?“ Yuzu looks around, presumably searching for more food you brought along.

The pure soul.

„Well, we already had dessert.“

„Oh, right! But, what’s the food, then?“

A little pause follows. Yuzuru couldn’t look any more thrilled. You decide to go with it.

„You’re too innocent,“ you lower down your pants by an inch, thumbs demonstratively hooked into the hem. You raise your eyebrows into a question that he cannot miss. „If you want. You might wanna grab your spray first, though.“

Only the last part fully registers in Yuzuru’s expression that finally goes from curious to… sheepish. He caught on.

Asthma spray at 11:30 PM is a cue he’s gotten familiar with over the last four months. Not in a million years did he think he’d ever have to use it late at night. Whatever decision process is rattling through Yuzu’s brain right now, it’s a fast one, though.

„Ha— okay!“

„Alright, Yuzu.“

„Just once second!“

Food round number two, it is. You kick off your pants and underwear but make sure they don’t land any place where plushies are. Yuzu is already busy at the other end of the room, visibly at work with shaky hands, browsing the cupboard with meds next to the window.

Now that he’s double nervous, you curse your idea, but remind yourself of the last late-evening time Yuzu had his head between your legs. ‚I dunno, I was just concentrated‘ are the words that stuck with you after asking him how on earth he kept his breath for what felt like 45 seconds. 

Whatever masochist devil has been driving him, it gave your boyfriend skills you never even knew were possible to have out of absolute nowhere. Not to mention how easily it distracted him from anything else in the world.

Maybe that focus is an effect easy to replicate, you think. Anything that can take his mind off the competition tomorrow is worth trying.

Carefully, you move over to the right side of the bed. Then, recline on Yuzu’s pillow — on his explicit wish two months ago, you meticulously keep that tradition — and feel surrounded by plushies already. 

Back then, Yuzu insisted that he shouldn’t be the only one watching out for you when you’re having sex. And that the pillow just smells really good of your hair afterwards. So there you lay, feeling all kinds of horny. Given that Yuzu is already returning to the bed, swiping his hair off his forehead. Looking very refreshed, letting his breath play. Sexy.

And there it goes already. The I dunno, I was just concentrated gaze. You arrange your legs wide enough for Yuzu to settle in the middle, him still sitting upright. His hands are still shaky when they reach around your outer thigh, but his eyes don’t lie to you in the very least.

„Your breath alright?“

A little nod, but he doesn’t heed the question for any longer. There’s gladly nothing that his lung doctor can’t figure out. You count on that, but asking doesn’t hurt.

Meanwhile, Yuzu’s eager eyes are already drawn downwards. Getting bigger and bigger. The surprise he had anticipated in fact now dances over his face, flighty and polite, but nonetheless apparent to you. He’s smiling, and it looks shy in the light of the bedstand lamp.

„I, ah…“

It’s as if he hasn’t seen you naked before, every time. For whatever reason, Yuzu always reverts to virgin mode with his first glance. You admit it’s flattering and amusing alike, but also — leaves you with Hitchcock level suspense. 

Yuzuru has proven himself to be an expert in summoning a beginner’s zeal, an almost childlikeness. That keeps you on your toes and promises an intensity that routine and pragmatic energy management could never give you.

After letting his eyes linger a little more, his lips become visibly impatient. He’s already licking them. You’d promised food, and he takes it seriously. That Yuzu’s fingers stroke rather weirdly at your thighs does not escape your attention either. They’re practicing.

„Help yourself, touch.“

The stroking ceases. Yuzu doesn’t hesitate to reach down with his left. How he touches you sends a row of tingles down your legs. His fingertips are amazingly dainty and soft. He explores. Then, soon keeps on caressing about, leans his head forward, all still from his seated position. It doesn’t take too long until he goes straight to getting you off with his right hand.

„This is, wow,“ he mumbles to himself, already immersed in rubbing your clit. Going in circles, taking his time. Alternating between index and thumb.

„Yeah. That’s the spot,“ you shift in the pillow, eventually finding a good position to relax. You exhale, focus on his hand.

„So smooth,“ Yuzu traces his joining left hand up and down your labia.

„Maybe someone wants a taste?“

You were right that he would forget practically anything else. The yoga mat worry brow is blown off his face. Substituted by— appetite.

„Not just maybe, actually.“

Spreading your legs a little more is invitation enough to have Yuzuru lower his head onto your pubic bone, tongue already searching for its favorite place. Your fingers gently interlace in his hair as soon as he starts sucking. Keeping his bangs out of his eyes.

How unafraid to bury his face he is you soon get to witness. You can feel the bridge of his nose glide from lip to lip, and the feathery light brush of his lashes at the base of your inner thighs. 

Yuzu’s tongue has always been cheeky, but today, it feels particularly adventurous and slippery. He can’t help but fumble about with his hands simultaneously. Beginner’s zeal, you knew it’d come.

The bucking of your hips comes too naturally to be controlled. Nor does Yuzuru know just how to hold his head back from thrusting. This little shit. Whatever is in those rice cakes, it made him a new level of keen. Soon enough, his tongue has riled you up plenty, and his focused eyes have become entirely monotone. Only preoccupied with one thing and one thing alone. 

Just how much he dedicates his attention has to be a thing for the books. You feel like blowing up and moaning like crazy at this point, but manage to at least puff out. He knows you’re way too close. There’s a little smile you feel in the way he eats you.

„So that mouth gets a cum filling,“ you twist your fingers out of Yuzu’s wild hair. It’s all tangled again. The return of the mad professor. He has all the space in the world to bop his head as much as he wants now. One, two, three plushies fall over and tumble around the mattress. He doesn’t notice.

The warmth between your legs has been growing ceaselessly. Now, ready to brim. With Yuzu’s agile tongue slipping back and forth over your clit in erratic intervals, you feel like losing your mind with every lick. The way his lips excite you gives off the lewdest sucking noises. All wet, and resolute like a chess player not to drop you off that high. 

He keeps his laps consistent, leans in more, and eventually— tips you off the edge with a fast sequence of letting his tongue dip under the hood of your clit. And letting it stay there, all until your legs start twitching. You groan out.

Yuzu gets a big. Fat. Cum filling indeed.

Your breath goes short, you grab his shoulders. Growling, cursing. Trying to ride the wave, but the contractions catch you harder than you thought. You can practically feel how much you ooze out and ruin his face. 

Bratty he is, Yuzuru forms his mouth all kissy and pecks your clit through every throb. Until the shockwaves subside, letting your shaking thighs off the hook eventually.

Too fucking intense. The surge of pleasure keeps on making your mind hazy long after your orgasm is over. To add fuel to the fire, Yuzuru rubs his belly, as if he just had two happy meals for the price of one.

Pulling off, his face is all bright and slobbery in its remaining smile. His lips are cum-glazed, and more than just plain sweat trickles down his nose. Nothing better than a facial right in front of twenty plushies. Who knew Winnie the Pooh himself would ever be eye witness to Yuzu’s sporty head game. 

Friendly bear he is, it doesn’t seem to bother him. From unsuspecting comfort teddy on Yuzu’s lap 23/7 to live-action porn audience. First row, no popcorn though, but HD sound quality and claims to free spit. The guy is living his absolute best life, isn’t he.

„You… growling. That was pretty hot,“ Yuzuru says. His jaw is hanging all loose and most of his speech is slurred. Yuzu looks all satiated. In your mind, you pat yourself on your own shoulder. Boyfriend corruption: almost complete.

„Like being spoiled? I want you to clean that up.“

Yuzu squeaks out giddy in reply. A moment later, he goes back to lean down again, swallowing and licking up cum from your drenched, swollen lips. His slurping noises are indulgent, wet, and desperately slutty. He succeeds in cleaning you up, but keeps on messing up himself even more. Yuzuru delights in rubbing his whole face into your dripping pussy until his eyebrows are sticky, his lids and cheeks are damp, and you feel capable to get up from the pillow.

Despite not being underneath the blanket, you notice that your feet aren’t that cold anymore.

He sits on the bed like a mermaid, huddled close to you. Normally, he would visibly sort his thoughts like that, but now, all he does is blink and nuzzle up against you with his forehead. 

Settling, Yuzuru doesn’t seem to know where to put his hands and you take it as a chance to pepper them with kisses. The back of the hand, the palms, the wrists. It calms you, and it calms him.

You feel entirely drenched, refreshed and relaxed at once. How Yuzuru cuddles against your legs makes your heart warm, and the moment is blissful.

One lavender steam cloud later, you feel like moving again. Maybe there are two restless people in this relationship. The thought of it is funny.

„We could go on a little more,“ eventually, you pat his head. „With something different if you want.“

„Do you still have energy?“ he asks. His breath is somewhat slowing already. It feels hot against your leg.

„More than before, actually.“

He sits up. Looks like you surprised him again. Little does Yuzu know how much he shakes you up.

„Really?“

You nod, twirling at his bangs now.

„I have an idea. So… you remember what’s been waiting in a box for a month.“

You can tell he knows exactly what you mean. No doubt he didn’t take very long to recall it, either. That tells you something.

„Can we use it?“

That answer was fast.

„It’s what I’ve been thinking.“

„We’ve been putting this off but I’m still curious.“

And your guess was correct. It’s definitely been on his mind.

„Yeah, you’re right.“

Promptly, you direct your eyes to the bedroom cupboard to your far left. The one containing various kinds of skating blades in slender packagings, tracksuits in dark colors, fan presents, and mail orders. Among them, a larger jet black box—

That neither Yuzu nor you dared to open given it was a product of a reckless button click at 2 PM.

Admittedly, after Yuzu passed you a way too expensive bottle of sake that he got for his birthday. Since he’s allergic to alcohol, somebody thought she could give it a sure try instead. Pouring $200 into the sink would have been the better option.

Said black box soon sits between the two of you, wide open to reveal the truth of what sake can do.

„Oh man. What have I done.“

That button click comes back to bite you big time.

„This looks, I think, realistic—?“

At least on the surface.

Of course, you drunk fool had to order the ‚sculpted, real-life imitation‘ version. You couldn’t be any more embarrassed. No more alcohol in this flat, that’s for sure. What else to do but take it in stride now that the box is already open, though.

„I uh, think so. At least with the veins.“

„It’s… it is really big.“

At least three times Yuzu’s flaccid size if you don’t hallucinate right now.

„I don’t know how I’m not gonna tear you apart. How many inches are these, 12? My drunk self is too ambitious.“

Maybe you shouldn’t have used that word and said ‚reckless‘ instead. Because ambition surely and habitually triggers a prancing and posing Shia LaBeouf shouting ‚do it!‘ in Yuzuru’s athlete brain. You can see it in his eyes and already regret thinking out loud.

„We can still try.“

„If that’s a good idea or not we will probably see,“ you begin to inspect the contents one by one up close. „I think I bought a weapon.“

„Now I know why they call guns a strap,“ Yuzuru equally peaks over the edge of the box, looking like his future just flashed before his eyes.

„Next time I pass the sake to your coaches or something,“ you end up pulling out the red harness kit that glaringly lays on top of the contents. All looking very adjustable indeed. „That’s what my midnight fantasy seems to look like.“

„Uh—huh!“

Yuzu snakes his hand into the box himself now. Pulling out a transparent, orange-pink 13 oz bottle with a bubbly-looking fluid inside. Gaudy stuff, but a generous amount.

„Mister Lube. My new best friend,“ he says, laying the bottle aside and then pulling off his black PJ shirt. Although he strips quite leisurely, you can tell that Yuzuru is a little tense in his torso. That you will attend to in a minute, you think. But beforehand, you let your eyes roam for something else.

„They probably have something to clean it with in there as well. Let me see.“

You find that even if you might have ordered all this pretty tipsy, the toy set does have its quality. Just before you want to ask Yuzuru to warm up, he visibly ponders, then cleans his pajamas off the bed to make space for a little area.

„If you don’t mind, I stretch my muscles,“ Yuzuru puts aside a couple of plushies, too, but keeps Pooh close, assuming his typical pre-training stances.

He knows himself. That’s good.

„Tell me if you need help for the thigh stretching.“

In the meantime, you ease into the red kit and arrange the box contents on the bed. There seem to be fifteen things going on at once. If this would be public in the slightest, you believe the two of you must look like a bunch of eccentrics to anybody who’d watch you.

Ten minutes later, Yuzuru might just be in Olympic shape, has downed almost half a liter of spring water in one go. You know that he could probably deliver a quintuple jump on the spot if he wanted. The strap-on is all assembled, clean, and you have stored away the practically empty box of sake sinnery.

„I’ll skate cross-eyed and cross-legged tomorrow,“ Yuzu stares right at your crotch, face buried in his palms. Only his eyes peek through the fingers. „Godspeed to my ass.“

You sure as hell won’t disagree. This strap is a threat.

„I don’t know why I had to order supersize out of all possible things. You need a prayer circle after this. Where’s Mister Lube?“

„Here, over here,“ Yuzuru passes over the bottle, shaking it.

„I’ll relax you as good as I can, okay. Before I get arrested for possession of weapons without a license.“

And annihilating Yuzu’s insides with that XXL dick that he sure as hell doesn’t just want halfway in. Lord have mercy. You can only shake your head at yourself for buying this.

„Honestly though. Does it really fit in?“

Yuzu leans his face toward your hip, now on all fours, taking the sight in. He still can’t believe his eyes.

„We’ll see. Let your body decide, not your pride okay,“ you poke the tip of the strap-on into his left cheek. Hoping that it takes away some of the tension, at least. „And you can still tap the mattress.“

„Okay. Tap the mattress.“

He nods quite avidly. Same protocol as always. No spoken safewords, only something that Yuzu can make use of with his reflexes. Speech? Nothing you can both count on as soon as horniness kicks in. 

You tried that for the first two weeks and quickly settled for tapping instead. Especially because Yuzu likes to have fingers in his mouth every so often.

„I mean. You just did like five splits, didn’t you. Warm-ups always help. If your ankle doesn’t fall off?“

That mini workout was more than just impressive, in fact. And still, you eye Yuzuru’s notoriously injured foot. The slim little fella has a long history of recovery behind him.

„The ankle is decent, the usual stuff.“

„I wish we had a smaller toy to start out with,“ you scratch your head. That might be the one thing that’s been missing from the box. „We still have Mister Lube, anyway. Watch this,“ you pick up the orange bottle, flipping the cap open. „It’s actually scented! Worth ruining the bed if you ask me.“

On goes the fluid, you rub it all across the length of the dildo. Must be cherry flavor or something. Yuzuru sure makes big eyes.

„I knew I could count on Mister Lube.“

„Yeah, we use lots. And I’ll be very gentle.“

The cherry scent is gladly much less tacky than the bottle itself, not too artificial-smelling either. You squeeze out a second load and distribute it over the strap-on just to be sure. Yuzuru’s breath goes faster.

„Can I ask something beforehand?“

„Go right ahead.“

„I wanna suck first if you…“

Who knew. The lube probably made his mouth water.

Being honest, you think that it might be a good idea to get this going. Better than blowing his pretty back out right away and making a mistake, even if he is much less tense now.

„I don’t mind, Yuzu. You already have some chapstick on, right? Here.“

You level your hips to line up with his mouth more easily. You can tell that Yuzuru, after some heavy blinking, eventually braces himself. There’s nothing more telling than his tunnel vision plastered all over his face. His eyes, lids heavy, are hypnotized and seem darker. Yuzu’s bedroom gaze is the best in the world.

„Okay, I’ll start.“

A first kittenish lick. A second. A third. Then, brave lips — enclosing the tip. He audibly nips and swallows.

A few more licks, and repeat. Mister Lube seems to taste pretty good. You bless the shady company that manufactures the black box of sin for once. 

You let Yuzu explore, pump his hand around the shaft, lick from all directions he fancies. Compared to his wrist, the dildo doesn’t really fall short in diameter, but with Yuzu’s face up close you are relieved it’s not a complete David versus Goliath match. 

Soon enough, he musters the courage to open his mouth a little wider, cramming a bit more in than just the tip. You can’t deny you’re getting turned on again with the way he slurps and hums around your dick. With the minutes, he becomes bolder, moving his head.

Even if the lube gathers at his chin and seeps down to the bed, he keeps on sucking, now with a first pearl of sweat lingering on his forehead already. You’d never think it’d make him break a sweat. To be fair, he just did fifty jumping jacks in the warm-up.

„Want me to move?“

Two nods. You glide in, let your hips do the work how they want to. You don’t trust your online shopping choices, but your tempo, at least. Yuzuru is making all choked up noises trying to gobble up all the girth he gets, his fingers entangled in your harness. It keeps him in a steady place.

You can work from that, angle a few superficial thrusts into his mouth to get the saliva flowing. The blotch on your bed is already pretty nasty. The slow pace is apt enough to fill Yuzu’s mouth with spit bubbles that begin to foam out bit by bit.

After two more minutes of light back and forth, Yuzuru pulls off to speak.

„Please do it stronger. I don’t mind being hoarse.“

Not a second later, all he does is slurp up a very dripping shaft again. With difficulty jamming it in past the first few inches, but determined, anyway. You didn’t expect anything else.

Yuzu’s lips and eyes are all glossy by now. The portion of lube-infused spit has accumulated at his jaw already, soon to travel down to his throat. 

Stronger, he says. Why not.

„Okay, get ready.“

„M—hm!“

An abrasive jab follows a shallow one. If it wasn’t for the lube, your dick would scrape right down his upper throat. But this way, the first dip goes in with sufficient slip and slide, not leaving Yuzu with too much dick in his neck for long. All your strap-on does is bounce right back.

What you do hear is Yuzu’s gag reflex… claiming its rights. Still understated, but nevertheless there. After three more thrusts, you decide to stay about halfway balls deep, watching Yuzuru squirm, even try to shove in about an inch more by pressing his head forward. His breath is clean and deep through his nose. You put a checkmark on the my-boyfriend-has-asthma list in your mind.

„You look good with a dick in your mouth.“

What is supposedly a ‚thanks‘ ends up as gargling and choking. Yuzuru starts getting wet eyes at this point. Even a little bow of his head is something that doesn’t slip past your attention. Mannered guy, isn’t he. 

That praise makes him do the horniest noises is also something that you make a memo of. Along with seeing how it’s rendering him all aroused. You’ve seen those neck veins and red chin spots come out plenty of times to know.

A couple more thrusts are not a bad option, you decide. Although it seems that Yuzuru had the idea to hollow out his cheeks that very moment. The vacuum first makes your cock plunge in a little too fast than intended, then naturally pulls Yuzu’s head forward once you move your hips back again. 

It’s why the second thrust catches him off guard, flattening his lips and making your dick slide into his throat with air going in. Yuzu ends up choking hopelessly. It doesn’t look like he’s retreating his head in the very least, however.

Instead, you feel his hands grab at your either hip to secure himself in place. A glance from above, slightly angled sideward, shows you just how hard and throbbing Yuzu’s own dick is, tipping against his stomach. 

Once again, you make an impressed-my-dear face that he doesn’t overlook. His cheeks go hollow again and he keeps up the indulgent speed. Increasingly getting rougher and more pain-craving. Messier. Desperate. 

Yuzu opens his mouth wider not to have his teeth get in the way. It’s serious business now. His throat makes the most disgusting, grunting noises. Oh. Shit. Yuzu’s greed and sloppy lips make your body burn up. Soreness is the very least he’s headed for.

„Wow, Yuzu. Wow.“

It’s not something you didn’t know already. This man is without a singular doubt a lunatic. You whisper more praises to him, your hands grabbing hold of his head to sustain the movement rhythmically. 

Yuzu’s gag reflex has proven to only rebel every other thrust so you can pound away, at that time already giving up even the mattress that must be sopping wet to its core with Yuzuru drooling all over it. Too late for a towel altogether but fuck it.

Yuzu takes the choking well. He’s leaking spit all over, surrenders to your hands. Even if he doesn’t manage to deepthroat the entire length of the dick, he manages an awful lot of inches. By now, he’s gotten the hang of not letting too much air in. All while relaxing his muscles. 

Beautiful hums, chokes, little whines. Too bad your phone isn’t close by. Recording this has to be your very next bucket list entry. You’re glad he asked about this.

You go on thrusting for a few more times until you feel your hips going tired. Once his nose starts getting all runny, you naturally slow down even more. Eventually, you help Yuzuru pull his head off. His lips are all puffy.

„B—woah,“ it’s all he can moan and splurt out, and you help him wipe the glob of saliva and snot from his chin with your sleeve. 

Your pajama shirt might be ruined, but not as much as Yuzu’s tonsils. Who knows just how many times you were deep and fast enough to make them throb from all that friction. Seven, eight times? His food for tomorrow can be a light soup at best. Not even you were as sore after riding and sucking every last drop out of his dick last Monday. 

You’re glad he has the rice cakes going through his system right now. Poor onlooker Winnie the Pooh is probably traumatized by now. There’s only so much crazy dicksucking a bear can handle watching. And still, he gazes at the two of you— in good spirits as ever, cheeks big and bright. In a way, he looks like Yuzu in this very moment.

„How you like it?,“ you softly caress his pinkish lips. „I need to know how many stars to leave on the website.“

It takes a few moments until he can form words again. His speech is fast. He’s still staring at the dildo.

„It was in so deep and, and on my tongue. The dick veins, I could feel them. They were like, like, it was massaging my lips. And I almost thought I could swallow it.“

You raise your brows. Lord knows how deep your cock was inside his brain, but he still picks these things up.

„Attention to detail. Nice.“

Maybe 4.5 stars are a fair deal. At least for throat fucking. The rest — remains to be seen.

„Did I do well?“

His eyes widen. The question is genuine. It’s not something you’d think he would ask. Whenever he trained, he would always rely on his own judgment.

„Ask yourself first, you were the one feeling it.“

That’s not the answer he expected, and he ends up getting red cheeks.

„I liked it,“ he stammers. „Was really hot.“

„It’s what I saw, too. Good job, babe.“

He’s blushing even more now.

„Ah— I think I tried my best.“

You smile and cup his slobbery face. So you’ve taken his throat virginity in the most spit-heavy way possible. He looks cuter than ever.

„Listen. You’re a champ. If I could, I would cum deep inside of you.“

„I think, that would be romantic,“ his wet lips break into an upbeat smile. Yuzu’s eyes get all crinkly.

„You bet.“

A big doting kiss for Yuzu’s forehead is the only thing your brain can conjure up at this point, so you briefly lean down to do it. Maybe Shia LaBeouf is not just exclusively at home in Yuzu’s imagination. 

What you have to admit is that Yuzu’s overflowing athlete’s spirit has easily taken over your hips. You didn’t think you could move properly for that long. Maybe you still have some energy reservoirs left.

„And, and now?“

„I can stuff you with more dick. Up to you. Mister Lube didn’t run out yet. And if Pooh still likes watching.“

By instinct, Yuzuru’s hands snake behind his back to grip his ass, stroking what he knows is your delightful next target. You can tell by his eyes that there are a thousand scenarios going through his head.

„Pooh likes this… very much. He’s never seen something like that before. I think he is curious.“

It doesn’t take a Sherlock’s mind for you to know that he means— himself.

„I mean. I was surprised. If that monster fits into your little throat,“ you add, „anything is possible.“

That’s the final straw.

„I’ll do it,“ he says, moments later on all fours, face lowered and then rested sidewards on the bed, spreading his ass cheeks. Decision making when it comes to strap stuff is Yuzu’s forte, you jot that down in your invisible sex life journal. Not one bit of hesitation. By the looks of it, a very twitching entrance is waiting for you.

Testing period is over.

„Alright. I got something to drive home.“

Now that you think of it. If his ass is already only half as naughty as his mouth, you’ll need the help of a higher power.

„Shit. I think, it relaxes.“

At the expense of your mattress and blanket getting even more greasy with lube, you ease in the tip after massaging it into his sphincter. Yuzu’s ass still has to deal with that new sensation given how his leg muscles are going all bonkers. But indeed he’s grown receptive.

„Comfy like that?“

„B—big…“

„Attention, just a little tweak before I go on. Here.“

You softly press down on his spine with your palm entirely flat, and his back obliges immediately. His arch is leaving you breathless. 

Yuzu’s head and chest are snug and soft against the bed while his ass is far, far up. He smiles seeing you venerate his back, he didn’t miss your reaction in the least. No surprise a third of your cock gets sucked into his ass just moments later. It caught you off guard.

Judging by Yuzu’s little yelp and his eyes rolling back, the way you went right into him has found pleasure. The bedposts creak a little because Yuzuru’s legs are shivering. As is his voice.

„I love it, I lo-, please, my, my ass!“

„Can I move?“

„Yes, please!“

The arch did the trick. You love your boyfriend. What follows is a slowly plunging series of rewards, ten, eleven times, pulling at his gripping asshole until it surrenders into going loose. Yuzuru has almost accommodated a third of the length you’re engraving into his ass. You’ll definitely keep using that brand of lube.

„Here, babe. I got a present for your prostate.“

Yuzu is making your favorite lawless face when you hit the spot, controlling the base of the dildo with two your fingers going around it like a cock ring. He looks as if someone just handed him a trophy too big to carry. From his perineum, a thread of lube comes dripping down with a squelching noise. The poor sheets. It’s another virginity taken.

In the meantime, Yuzu grabs hold of the duvet with unsteady hands. His entire torso is nothing but a shaky mess. So erratic. And sweaty. And docile. And beautiful. You want to award him plenty, your little present from above, the jittery boy underneath you.

Pounding away and making him grit his teeth is worth heading for a mean cramp, you don’t care. Watching how your cock is plowing in and out of him at jerky angles with the absolute lewdest, bubbling noises recompensates for anything. 

Yuzu’s rolling eyes have become spaced out and teary, making him look like a crying saint about to enter the golden gates of heaven. Who knew angels had black hair.

With every stroke, his ass becomes every bit accepting to the point of almost glaring open to let you thrust in. Thank God. You compliment yourself on not falling short of the arguably lofty promise to relax him. Moaning Yuzu’s little ass is swallowing it all. 

By the time, his rectum is going hollow and sticky, welcoming every move of yours by giving you ample right of passage. During some thrusts, you don’t even see his sphincter hold on to the dildo at all. His ass is almost as dilated as his loose mouth itself. Your thrusts are working on their own again at this point. What instinct is propelling you, who knows. 

You love the sight and the happy squeals. You tease him with more speed. Not without effect, your hips lunge and aim deep all the more. You penetrate him far enough to start an excavation for ancient relics next Monday. With the tempo increasing, so does the chesty volume in his voice.

„It’s,“ he cries out, „in my belly! Ah! Ah, shit! Shit...“

You see Yuzu let go of the duvet with his left hand. It promptly darts way down to his abdomen where his fingers grope around.

„I can feel it,“ he whines, „It’s rubbing there, it’s a big bump!“

You sure won’t deprive your own hand from that sensation and reach right down, too. Which means leaning forward— and stuffing your strap even harder into his guts. Yuzu gasps out loud. Both your hands meet fondling about, cupping the sensitive area in search for the imprint of the dildo.

What Yuzu says is not understated. His slender little belly is all bulged out in the bottom quarter. Since he’s so thin, it’s almost scary how much your cock just dents him out and twists around.

„Jesus, Yuzu,“ you let your hand roam next to his, even lightly squeezing the area. It’s what really riles him.

What you thought was the maximum for him to take turns out to be nothing but a mere start. Yuzu is so obsessed to feel the bulge more that he starts bucking his ass onto your cock with the most unbridled voice cracks.

You can’t lie. His moans make your jaw drop. His usually so controlled body on the ice is now wrecking and writhing itself to get more dick. 

A thin line of sweat goes on a pilgrimage down his spine already. He impales himself more, gyrates his hips more, whines out more. You wonder how he keeps it together and doesn’t spritz all his cum over the bed and the floor tiles.

It’s the sheer force of will. Always hungry for the next level. You can’t help but admire how enduring he is. And that’s just the first time.

Yuzu’s feet have become agitated on the sheets, responding to every thrust by dangling and swishing around. Yesterday, his right ankle was all stiff and even a bit swollen. Now, it’s moving all over the place. Looks like doggy style is putting all the tension off the ligaments. It’s something else you take deliberate note of.

After five more thrusts and hearing his whimpers getting all drawn-out, eventually, you retreat for a break, letting your cock rest on his left ass cheek. Yuzu inhales, gathering himself. He looks at you with big, glazed bambi eyes. Maybe even a bit incredulous.

„Am I, am I gaping?“

You don’t have to check twice to know.

„All lose. If you knew how far I can see inside of you. Hole new world.“

„Y/N!“

He can’t hold eye contact now.

„Naughty, huh. But I like what I see.“

Goddamn great ass. You firmly smack Yuzu squarely across his right butt cheek. He twitches, clenches, bites his lips more. They tremble.

„Ah! You tease!“

„Want me to put it in again?“

Wild nodding. Looks like Yuzu’s usual voracity on the ice does an easy, albeit not entirely seamless transfer to bed, too. He still ogles what is about to stretch him out again with due respect. He still can’t fathom something this massive was inside of him, you can tell.

Once you start moving again, you notice his feet and thigh muscles violently jerking. His prostate has gotten all sensitive. Probably all spongy and large by now.

You decide to angle yourself differently and take a deep breath. Impossible to draw this out any longer. From the vicinity of Yuzu’s pillow, you grasp the Winnie Pooh plush toy and maneuver it into his awaiting embrace. He holds it tight in an instant.

With impatient hands, you fumble around the bed for the lube bottle until you find it next to his right foot. Two, three, four generous squeezes onto his asshole, not very accurate at all. Several fine, oily traces end up trickling down his inner thighs. You don’t even bother closing the bottle properly anymore. Too much adrenaline.

„Grab those sheets and Pooh, Yuzu, grab hard.“

„I got it!“

„Time I fuck you up. If you’re ready?“

„Yes, make me cum, make me cum! Please break my ass,“ he’s whimpering. So badly. „I want it! I want it all inside.“

Mister Lube has a last job to handle.

Yuzu has crammed three fingers into his mouth once you get a hold of his hair and deliver the last hard movements. He takes the blows all babbling and sucking himself off. How his ass is not completely falling apart by now is a miracle of nature. Or maybe, just the blessing of his daily training.

The room is heavy with the scent of sweat and cherries. He’s loosened his core so much that sliding in is not a question of you avoiding a cramp anymore, but technique. You feel focused to zero in and not miss the sweet, tender spot. It makes him mewl the first time you push your dick tip right into it. 

The second time, his eyes get big and fluttering.

„Please. Please, hurt me,“ he salivates, then eventually, grabs his plush harder. „Hurt me bad. I’m really begging you.“

Fast to oblige, you claw your hands around his waist and pull his body backwards. The ten nails digging into him are only the last needed set-up. The last jab comes in crisp, landing a severe and punctuated shock. Yuzu’s ass smacks up hard at your loins. The pain quickly snakes right up his spine and leaves his face contorted.

„Oh fuck…!“

Small, shaking Yuzu cums like fifty fireworks going off at once. Not even releasing his screams into the duvet really helps to mute out the heaviness of the first waves. You keep your cock right in place and let it buffer into his prostate at will. 

Yuzu’s legs kick and tangle under you like pasta in boiling water. He cries and groans and curses, and cries out even more. You can see his entire back muscles at work now, going like clockwork. His moans each sound so ecstatic, it registers as a different language to you. He spirals far into his orgasm, sobbing, and it looks beautiful.

„Amazing, Yuzu.“

His semen lands all over his sternum and the sheets, shooting out in several bursts, one more pumping than the other. It’s almost as if all that strawberry juice converted nicely into a blotchy, white fluid. 

His dick is still tensing up completely sensitive. Releasing cum, up until his legs stop going all over the place. Yuzu doesn’t let the sperm cool for twenty seconds that he already reaches down to pick it up, jerking his cock a last dozen times, only to bring to his mouth what his fingers collected. He sucks up all of it.

„Delicious, baby?“

„M—hm!“

„So nicely milked.“

His relished expression. You imagine that this must have been how the gods first tasted nectar.

While he licks away, Yuzu goes limp head to toe with you carefully pulling out your dick. Inch by inch. Not pulling. Only gliding.

Once you’ve removed the tip, he collapses into a sniffing, giggly puddle of serotonin. Crying, even when you lend him both your hands to lay his face into.

He’s so gorgeous. 

Breathing hard, sweaty, drooling and messed up. His body is so steamy and loose, splayed out all the way before you. His entrance has turned all pink so beautifully. Hot. As. Fuck.

Most psychologists would envy you for being able to gaze this far into Yuzuru Hanyu’s innermost clenching being. How his ass is going to close until tomorrow’s competition, you don’t know. 

Time to pray he won’t digest these savory cakes too fast. Then again, he didn’t eat properly at all. His body is probably soaking up all the fruit and rice in their entirety. 

You pat his lower back gently, making sure to lay him down into a sleeping position already. Pooh is right by his side. Yuzu’s legs are still so dangly.

He’s really let go completely. You’ve not fucked his ass, but his soul.

You want to thank him for trusting you so much. Beside the shady black box manufacturer. 

The bed is a glorious mess.

Removing the strap-on harness makes you feel just how loosened your own limbs have become, too. Come to think of it, this might be your new heavy-duty workout. None of your friends know you do this kind of cardio involving the best ass in the whole city as your personal trainer.

Yuzu’s butt has turned you into a drenched, wobbly homo sapiens that will probably look in the mirror by tomorrow and proclaim herself a bodybuilder from those sheer muscle burn gains. 

When the two of you show up at the rink tomorrow, you both need hunky guys carrying you in by the armpits or something. 

And the whole world will wonder how Yuzu’s wonky ankle magically recovered overnight but he can’t sit.

Changing the duvet at quarter past twelve with an unmovable Yuzu on top of it seems like a thing of the impossible. It’s soiled, it’s sweaty, it would probably make it to the first page if a reporter ever got hold of it. 

But you take it pragmatically and opt for sleeping on Yuzu’s cleaner side of the bed intertwined. It’s surprisingly dry there. Big laundry day tomorrow, anyway.

The only thing you manage to do is reach for the window to open and to grab a glass of water from the bedstand to share. He’s chugging the remaining half down in one go. His hands? Oh wonder.

More than steady.

He calmed completely. After he puts down the glass, you scoot closer to him.

„Your foot — better?“

„Oh? I didn’t even think about it.“

He wriggles his left leg back and forth underneath the blanket, then concludes with a surprised face:

„It’s turning pretty well? I think you hit a nerve. Maybe you should split me in half more often.“

He shrugs. Yuzu’s serious face while saying that so dryly makes you laugh.

„Looks like it,“ you draw out the open lube bottle from beside you, finally closing the lid. „Do you… need a towel?“

„I just need you. I have to be disgusting for once.“

„I’ll scrape that all off tomorrow before we leave. Hot shower, five tons of shampoo. I’ll be breaking out the stuff you clean your skates with if I have to.“

That makes Yuzu chuckle. In fact, he beams a little.

„Sounds like something to look forward to.“

„I hope you can walk, anyway. Is it painful?“

Your biggest sorrow at this point. Taking his mind off was easy, but now he’s got boneless legs. Your conscience nags you for dicking him down out of all possible things.

„You have your weapon license now. I gotta admit… the last one…“

…was ass destruction 3.0, you complete his sentence in your mind. It’s nothing a normal human being could have stomached. „I’ll manage, though. I still feel my legs.“

„God, how does he do it.“

A smug „He’s Yuzuru Hanyu, that’s how, aw yeah!“  is what you imagine God’s answer to sound like. But instead, all you get is a little smile. Very well, from the little God in your bed.

„Pooh did this. When I squeezed him, I knew I could take it.“

He reaches to the middle of the bed. Five consecutive head pats for the bear plushie and Yuzu looks content already.

„Winning medals with just one working ankle is the same as doing it with a demolished ass to you, huh.“

„It’s not demolished, it’s improved and overhauled,“ he smiles. „Never felt any better. It was really good how you did this.“

It’s his strangest sport philosophy yet. But if you know one thing, it’s that Yuzu’s bizarre body hacks have gotten him the podium every time. You can already see him asking for another strap round before your mind’s eye. Before the next competition, at least.

„You honestly blow my mind.“

„And your dick, tomorrow night,“ goes Yuzu’s cheeky winner grin. There it is. Insatiable how you love it. You already feel the need to google ‚hip thrust strengthening exercises’. 

Maybe, if science advances to that point one day, you honestly clone yourself so double your capacity. And so that you can spitroast him. Maybe you order another dildo from the website and pin it to the wall, anyways.

„Must be Mister Lube who did all of this.“

„I want to buy more of it tomorrow. Any other groceries we need, anyway? I’ll be cleaning the floor, too. I hope I’m not too worn-out after skating.“

„We’ll do one thing after the other, alright. There are still rice cakes left for breakfast, those will get you through the day.“

You’ve seen how much of an energy burst the cakes gave him. 

„I really like those,“ he mumbles, then nuzzles into the pillow, sucking in your hair’s scent. Oh, it’s the moment you waited for. „Snickers diva… happy.“

A very cheery, puffy face slowly comes to rest beside you now, hair going in all directions. Infallible and ever-returning: Professor Yuzu’s explosive hairdo. Pooh is all clingy at his chest. A little worn from all the squeezing, but still with an amicable chuckle. You smile from ear to ear. It’s the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.

You kiss Yuzuru’s little nose and lips until he’s making sleepy sounds. Either this is a late-night mirage created by your very moan-tested ears, or he is actually purring. You make sure the Pooh plush resting at his chest faces him correctly, then clear away the remaining strawberries, shut the window, arrange the blanket, put on your pajamas properly.

The humidifier whirrs in the background while tiger baby does one last big yawn before drifting off. In a matter of two minutes, maybe even less than that. 

Just as you reach toward the bedstand to switch off the light, Yuzu’s hand curls into your shirt from behind. You turn, he is all dozed off. Not one leg fidgeting. However, talking in his sleep with his hand nestled into your PJs.

„Big hug please, Pooh mama.“

© 2017-2020 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. do not repost.  for entertainment purposes only. all portrayals fictive.

#figure skating #yuzuru hanyu #yuzuru hanyu smut #yuzuru hanyu x reader #yuzuru hanyu fanfic #figure skating fanfic #fs #figure skating smut #sub!yuzuru #dom!reader #treats for you #original content

[chrismalcolmhnd2c]

Doorstep Portrait

©Annie Dresner

©Julie Michaelsen

“In time of test, family is best.” – Burmese Proverb.

Research the Narrative

In your workbook or blog, research Social Portraiture. There will be further tasks and support through the Contextual Studies class.

Tell the Story

Organise a group shot that will involve a minimum of three people.

Following restrictions imposed by lock down, photographers have been finding neW and inivitave ways to continue their practice of social photograhy, and in turn documenting the current situation.

You may interpret this brief in a variety of ways however the end product should display a group of sitters photographed safely on location.

The location will be the sitter’s residence or work place however consider the best place at the location to photograph the sitters. Windows, doorstep, garden shed? Have fun with the posing.

Good location, controlled lighting, co-ordinated styling, effective communication, and effective posing/composition will all add to the ‘experience’ for your sitters.

A parental consent form should also be created when any members of your group are under 16.

Edit and refine: Complete worksheet

These images should be of a quality suitable for a private client to purchase and print, retouching flaws, great composition, sharp and properly exposed.

Submission: One Final A3 folio print ready canvas with 2 significantly different images of the same group.

Initial research for Social Portraiture for “White Shirt”

https://chrismalcolmhnd2c.tumblr.com/tagged/white

Further research on Doorstep Portraiture

Coronavirus: Doorstep photo diaries capture life in lockdown

Published 21 May 2020

Magnus and Jenny have enjoyed spending more time together during the coronavirus lockdown.

Over the last eight weeks doorstep photos have provided some of the enduring images of Scotland's lockdown.

Families, couples and housemates are having socially-distant photographs taken at their front doors in an effort to record these unusual times.

Among those following the trend to create snapshots of modern life is Glasgow photographer Caro Weiss.

"I now have more than 100 shoots booked over the next four weeks," she said.

"I've done a great mix of people, artists, makers, couples, people with dogs, kids. I have been booked for an anniversary shoot, a 'should have been our wedding day' shoot, birthdays, and ones that friends have booked for their friends to cheer them up if they are finding it really tough.

"I can't wait to meet everyone. It's the highlight of my days now."

We asked some of her subjects to tell us about their lockdown experience.

Alison and Willie McBride

Alison and Willie McBride, both in their 60s, can't do their regular jobs at the moment.

"We've recently moved to this flat which fortunately has its own private garden which we are thankful for during lockdown and we spend time there reading and playing Scrabble. We sent our doorstep photos to our daughter and family living in America and our son, daughter-in-law and another daughter living in Manchester. We are trying to face this crisis with quiet resilience and the photos show a sense of being in it together and looking after each other."

Susanne Bell and Stephen Gallagher

Musicians Susanne Bell and Stephen Gallagher wanted to document lockdown with a growing bump.

"I'm currently 36 weeks pregnant and we wanted some photographs to document our lockdown with our growing bump! We've not been able to visit friends and family for three months now so we're really missing seeing them and showing off the baby bump. We are both musicians who play in bands and teach music so we are working from home with Stephen's son Johannes who is 12. We've been really lucky to have lots of musical instruments and projects to keep us busy. Stephen is in a band called Scaramanga and has been writing, recording (remotely) and releasing new music."

Jenny McLean and son Magnus

Jenny, 38, wanted to record Magnus' sixth birthday during the lockdown.

"We're coping well - we face Queen's Park, so we never feel too isolated with all the people coming and going for their daily exercise. We've kept busy through a combination of juggling work, craft projects, schoolwork and a worsening online shopping habit (I bought a 1960s swimsuit the other day… when I'm next going swimming, I have no idea!). We've been lucky to stay healthy throughout. It was Magnus's sixth birthday at the weekend so it seemed the perfect way to remember his day, and a time where - amidst the pandemic - I've felt really lucky to have more time with him, away from our usual busy lives."

Barbara Smith, Chris Macfarlane, Innes and Ishbel

Barbara, 37, Chris, 38, and their children Innes, 6, and Ishbel, 4, loved their "daft" photos.

"We are so pleased with our photos, they're so informal and more than a wee bit daft. Kids get big so quickly, it's a real treat to have a record of this time, even if it has been quite intense in parts! We are all healthy and enjoying having more family time, although I'm not sure I'm quite cut out for home schooling. I'm a wedding florist, so my business has been affected drastically, everything is either cancelled or postponed. Which at least means that I am able to take on childcare now that Chris has to work from home. He is a college tutor and is having to adapt to teaching his students online."

Cecilia Stamp, Greg Paterson and Leo

Cecilia Stamp is looking after her mum in nearby sheltered housing and has lost a family member to the virus.

"I'm a jeweller and I don't have full access to my workshop at the moment so I have been working as best I can but I really miss my workspace - especially as there's equipment I don't have at home. One of my main priorities has been looking after my mum who lives nearby in sheltered housing, doing food shops for her etc, as she can't go out. We've had a family member die from the virus down south, which was a huge shock as he was in good health, so it's been especially difficult for her too. We couldn't go to the funeral and trying to sort things remotely was a challenge."

Kenji Kitahama and Till Stowasser

Till, 42 and Kenji, 44, are both working from home.

"We're hanging in there and trying to make the best of the situation. We're very lucky in that both Till and I are able to work from home. Till is a professor and has been holding all of his lectures online since the beginning of March. I'm a bookbinder who makes bespoke photo albums and books. I run my small business from my home studio, so the lockdown hasn't affected my daily work routine a great deal. However, this is a time when I'm usually busy making wedding albums but since all of these celebrations have been cancelled or rescheduled, it's been a bit quieter. We're so grateful for all the frontline workers and of course, the postal service—who are making it possible to keep my little business afloat."

The McGarrigles

Eamon, 40 Claire, 40, Nancy, 5, and one-year-old Nena are getting used to sharing their space a lot more.

"We are currently adapting to the new way of life with Eamon now working from home. I'm no longer able to work as my place of work is temporarily closed due to Covid-19, so I am now attempting to be a home school teacher to Nancy who was in P1. We are missing our families and friends so much as we are both from Northern Ireland originally and have no family here in Glasgow. Our kids keep us sane and drive us mad in equal measures. I hope they will remember this time in their lives as the time we all got to hang out more, baked cakes, clapped with all our wonderful neighbours on a Thursday night and painted rainbows."

Terri Hawkins and Ernst

Terri Hawkins, 31 and Ernst Wolf, 2, have a flat full of flowers.

"I am a florist and rely mainly on weddings and events, so my business has been hugely affected. Me and my partner Angus fell through the cracks for government funding so we had major money panics. My business was the only way we could earn money, so we turned our living room into a dried flower workshop and came up with these flower arranging kits that people can make at home using dried flowers. They are great and keeping the whole family just afloat right now! Angus has started working for me, he's in charge of the logistics, computer stuff, ordering and I do all the making.

"Our house is a mess filled with flowers, our poor two-year-old has to watch TV every morning whilst we frantically work, we try and get it all done for lunch time then spend the day playing with our son Ernst! The online flower shop has been our families saviour, we are extremely grateful."

The Evans family - Mhairi, Maeve and Joe

Mhairi, 35, Joe, 36 and Maeve (who will be six next week) have made the best of a bad situation.

"Joe and I are working from home and juggling home schooling. We've all been lucky to be quite well but did have some mild symptoms near the beginning so went through isolation. It's pretty full on. Some days are fun, some days are really hard and we've all been up and down. Maeve is beginning to really miss her friends and her school. We're just trying to make the best of it but we miss our families and friends a lot. I have so much respect for all key workers and I'm happy to stay at home for as long as we have to if that keeps them safe."

Hazel Jane and George Windsor

Hazel Jane, 23 and Dr George Windsor, 29, had only moved in together in February and say their lockdown was a "cohabitation of fire".

"We're both lucky enough to continue working full-time from home throughout lockdown and we do this by rotating spaces between the kitchen table and the sofa. Neither of us have shown any symptoms so it's been a smooth ride in that sense, but we have certainly suffered the mental health dips that come with quarantine and won't be unhappy to see the end of it. We moved in together in February so this has been a cohabitation baptism of fire. Also, these are not the haircuts we went into quarantine with. Mine is now considerably longer, while George's DIY cut leaves lots to be desired."

Claire Jonston-Dawson, John and Eddy

Claire, 33, John, 30 and Eddy, 2 have enjoyed more time together in their "flat bubble".

"We co-own a tiny pizza restaurant with a friend, so life is completely different for us in lockdown as we are closed right now, and have been since mid-March. It has had its ups and downs, as we, like so many others, still wait to find out what financial help we're getting for our business, but restaurant aside we've adjusted to slower, much simpler days and getting to hang out together. And we know we are some of the lucky ones in this situation, so really just spend our days swinging from guilt to gratitude for our small but cosy flat bubble, to being overwhelmed and angry at the UK government."

Source: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-52706375

Further Research

Photographers taking 'doorstep portraits' capture candid picture of life in lockdown from Kent's towns and villages

By Sean Delaney

Published: 27 May 2020

Photographers across Kent are taking candid shots of households on their doorsteps in a bid to document precious family memories and drum up funds for the NHS.

The industry was among those hardest hit by the lockdown restrictions as studios, weddings and other public places were all deemed out of bounds.

Couple Charlie and Lauren Moore in Snodland Photo: Strawberry Photography

But now so-called "doorstep photoshoots" are providing families with the chance to capture some priceless memories during these difficult times.

It has also afforded snappers a safe space in which to engage with clients and neighbours while also bringing in some much needed cash for their businesses and the health service.

New mum Sarah Hunt is currently running her business Strawberry Photography from her home in Snodland.

The 32-year-old usually focusses on weddings but as these have all now been rescheduled until next year the doorstep project has been providing a new outlet in-between caring for her three month old daughter Margot.

Each session is conducted outside and in line with government guidelines on the two metre distance, although in reality Sarah says it’s closer to four or five metres because of the quality of her camera lens.

Tony Legg and Jane Pullinger-Legg who is a nurse assessor in the NHS Photo: Strawberry Photography

"It was a little bit slow at first. I think people couldn't quite grasp the idea of how it worked," she said.

Work soon began to pick up and Sarah has been booked in for various sessions around Snodland which she times around her baby's feeds.

"These have been a lot of fun and gone down really well," she said. "My approach is very relaxed and informal which enables me to create real and candid photos."

"I was doing virtual shoots and these were okay but they are just not the same as getting out and taking photos".

Sarah has snapped everyone from a funeral director to a nurse assessor and her pet pooches.

But a group she has taken shots of regularly is mums-to-be and includes one expecting mum who found out she was pregnant just days before going into lockdown.

Funeral director Gray Reigate, pictured with wife Zoe, daughter Molly and Boris the boxer Photo: Strawberry Photography

She said: "As well as family photoshoots, I have also photographed mums to be which has been so great as many of them have been in lockdown since the start of their pregnancies, so this has been a lovely way for them to show off their bumps.

"Otherwise there is going to be people being like 'oh my god' you're pregnant.

"Adapting my business to be able to create these images for people in these unprecedented times has been extremely rewarding – It's also great to just get back out there with my camera."

Payment is collected through contactless means and £5 from every shoot is donated to the NHS.

Sarah is also part of a team of Kent wedding suppliers who are putting on a wedding worth £35,000 for one lucky NHS worker.

The competition is the brainchild of Lou Finn, owner of Ashford-based Bake To The Future who has brought together 52 suppliers to donate their services for free.

The Champion family photo: Estelle Thompson Photography

Another photographer who has been doing her part for the NHS is Sevenoaks-based Estelle Thompson.

The 46-year-old has been capturing a frank snapshot of what lockdown life has been like in the small village of Fawkham in Longfield.

Estelle's calendar would usually be booked up with weddings and baby shoots at this time.

But when the Coronavirus struck her business Estelle Photography ground to a halt and as a self-employed worker says she did not qualify for government relief.

She wrote on her blog: "My heart broke every time a bride contacted me to discuss new dates for a wedding that was long awaited and now would be pushed back further."

Scarlett and Harry used the photos to wish their nanny a happy birthday, as they couldn't be with her. Photo: Estelle Thompson Photography

The snapper filled her time taking shots of her dogs and birds on the garden feeder but said nothing could match up to the joy of "capturing the personalities and cheeky smiles" of people.

"We are never photographers because it pays the bills, we are photographers because we love it," she said.

Estelle noticed people talking about a project in America called "Doorstep portraits" and decided to emulate it in her own tiny village by posting on the Fawkham community Facebook page.

The response was simply overwhelming, she says, with so many people wanting to be photographed – mostly to document what the current time is like for their children.

It was this which was to serve as her main motivator throughout the period, she adds "for those kids to be able to turn around to their own kids and show them this is what it was like".

In return Estelle asked villagers for a £10 pledge to the NHS and has now amassed more than £500 thanks to various generous donations.

Adele Barker is the new priest-in-charge at Saint Marys Photo: Estelle Thompson Photography

She said: "So, I had photographed the village, the people that live here, the rocks and the rainbows.

"It is kind of my gift, to the village that I love, where both my home and my business is."

She recalls how even her husband became a hero in the village after dressing up as a Tyrannosaurus Rex and surprising a three-year-old boy from afar while having his birthday party in lockdown.

The photographer says the idea has since "spiralled" into a time capsule, with her being asked to bury a USB containing some of the doorstep portraits.

She even snapped the new priest Adele Barker who arrived at the local church St Marys in Longfield not long before lockdown.

"So much has changed," she said. "If you look back now the first photo had daffodils, now there is blue bells."

Estelle's husband dressed up as a dinosaur to celebrate neighbour Josh who was celebrating his third birthday in lockdown Photo: Estelle Thompson Photography

But even though she misses her family and friends Estelle says she is incredibly grateful for her village neighbours.

She added: "The community during this time has just been incredible –to have their experience to document."

David and Jemma Rannard of Click:Create Rannard's Photography and Design have been offering to take family portraits outside homes but also to record important events during lockdown.

David said: "The family photos have really taken off. It is a way for people to keep in touch during these terrible times.

"When we realised people were making the effort to stage VE Day parties at home we thought it could be a natural extension of what we do."

David and Jemma Rannard and daughter Eva of Click:Create at Iwade offering VE Day photos on your doorstep

Wife Jemma, a graphic designer, is usually on hand and the couple now have an apprentice in the shape of their nine-year-old daughter Eva.

The couple charge £20 for a 10-minute photo shoot and donate £5 to the NHS.

It’s an emotional pledge for the family who sadly lost a friend to Covid-19.

And while offers of work are now coming in from different parts of the county the couple say they are having to decline them.

He explained: "It really only started as a bit of a service to villagers in Iwade where we live. We have done a few in Sittingbourne but I didn't think it was right for us to travel too far.

"It really angers me when people don't take this situation seriously and ignore the advice we are being given. The more we all sacrifice now, the quicker it will be over."

Source: https://www.kentonline.co.uk/authors/sean-delaney/

#doorstep

[ahouseoflies]

Best Films of 2017, Part III

Part I is right here. Part II is right here. Let’s keep it moving. PRETTY GOOD MOVIES 67. Kingsman: The Golden Circle (Matthew Vaughn)-  Exactly, eerily, as good as the first one. Make a hundred more of these stupid candies and wrap them individually in wax paper. 66. Jim & Andy: The Great Beyond (Chris Smith)-   As a movie about the effects of fame: 5 stars As a movie about the inherent lie of acting: 4 stars As a movie about making a movie: 2 stars As a well-structured documentary of its own: 1 star 65. The Wall (Doug Liman)- War movies often topple under the weight of their messages, but that's not The Wall's problem. To his credit, Liman is worried about making this a thriller first, even as he's showing off the competency of the soldier at its center. There's no music, and the camera plants you subjectively in Sergeant Issac's field of vision. (The John Cena character is named Shane Matthews, but he ain't even SEC). Even at 80-something minutes, however, the film feels long, telegraphing its way from one plot point to the next, and its dark ending comes off as a too-clever shrug. If your movie is about the war, then make it about the war. If it's using the war as a backdrop, then make it about something. 64. Fist Fight (Richie Keen)- Once you start thinking about its logic on any level, it falls apart. (The whole reason schools are bad is that they can't find good teachers, so why would they be so intent on firing the ones they have?) And it's full of fake problems. (Oh my God, he might not make it to his daughter's talent show in time!) But this worked for me overall. Some jokes fall flat, but there are so many that you can just wait for the next one to land, particularly if it's from the salty mouth of standout Jillian Bell. The script, full of meticulous callbacks, creates a full, satisfying arc for the protagonist as well. 63. Brad’s Status (Mike White)-  A confused movie that is an easy, sort of Italian watch in the way that it so literally spells out its emotions. Even five years ago, this tale of a middle class White man's entitled bellyaching would have been told straight. Now it exists only because it weaves into the narrative people who check the Stiller character's privilege. Because the character's jealousy is communicated so truly and fiercely, it almost seems as if Mike White wants to tell a story but knows he shouldn't. That sounds like faint praise, but it's a fascinating experience. 

62. Beach Rats (Eliza Hittman)- For about an hour, this felt like a movie I had seen before. "Oh, why can't I get it up? I, uh, must have had too many drugs. Definitely not because I'm gay 'cuz I'm not." It was, due to the underplayed performances and the careful composition, better than some versions of that movie, but not by much. Then, the last leg of the film gets mission-focused. Without giving anything away, rather than being just about heterosexual performance, it becomes about homosexual performance and heterosexual performance at the same time. The protagonist is challenging his straight friends within the rules of what they've determined and outside of them. Those layers pile on until the bravura final shot. I just wish it had hooked me sooner. 61. I Don’t Feel at Home in This World Anymore (Macon Blair)-  I preferred the Encyclopedia Brown fumbling at the beginning to the violent consequences at the end, but I realize that's how amateur detective movies work. I probably would complain if the film didn't open up in scale. The story is fairly simple, which, coupled with an assured visual style that is open to mystery, suggests that Macon Blair might have a real future as a director. He's not trying to do too much. Lynskey is absolutely perfect by the way. 60.  Life (Daniel Espinosa)-  Cool enough at the beginning and the end to excuse a few logical missteps in the middle. Still, without giving anything away, I'm recalling a fork in the road in which the film could have gone the easy, dumb way, and it went the more difficult, realistic way. I hadn't seen Espinosa's other movies, but he shows an assured hand here, especially with the rapturous gore. I can't say the same about Ryan Reynolds, who sleepwalks through a role that might as well be called You Know, a Ryan Reynolds Type.   59. The Zookeeper’s Wife (Niki Caro)-  It goes pretty hard for PG-13, and there isn't much wrong with it--the passage of time gets haphazard in the second half maybe. But personally, I think I'm all good on Holocaust stories. 58. Landline (Gillian Robespierre)- It's basically a Woody Allen movie if Woody Allen had an affinity for rollerblades instead of bad jazz. Most of the laughs come from the '90s milieu; in fact, I'm not sure if this movie would even be a comedy without the setting. Despite some of those easy laughs (and some laborious ribbon-tying at the end), the screenplay does a few difficult things well. I'm thinking in particular of a scene in which Falco and Turturro have to confront and punish their daughter. We've already been told that she gets forced into the bad-cop role, and he skates above the fray as the favorite parent. But to actually see that dynamic in action during this scene, which begins with him whispering that the mother is coming, is kind of thrilling. The performances are good: Slate is dialed up to a higher pitch than she was in Obvious Child, and newcomer Abby Quinn comes through when asked to carry long stretches. At first, I wondered why John Turturro had signed up for such a nothing part, but as his arc blossoms in the film's second half to become a quiet MVP. He gets to remind us that no one else can play an unrealized sad sack quite like him. 57. The Unknown Girl (Jean-Pierre Dardenne, Luc Dardenne)-  I wish I had a unique take on this, but everyone else is right: It's a minor work from great filmmakers. There's some real psychology here--a woman in transition sublimates her upward mobility into a search for truth. And as a mystery, it works fine. But there's a tedium and a distance, despite the usual Dardenne tricks, that keeps it from hitting home. 56. The Glass Castle (Destin Cretton)-  There are too many characters in real life too, I guess. Far less focused than Short Term 12, The Glass Castle is an admirably sincere piece with some powerful sequences, but it gets way out of hand in the last twenty minutes. Recommendations for a movie that finishes with the point "It's okay to hate your dad"? 55. The Disaster Artist (James Franco)- James Franco reveals himself to be a workman-like director, a brilliant actor, and the best real-life brother of all time. Having a James Franco performance like this but giving top billing to Dave Franco is kind of like eating birthday cake but giving top billing to the plate. Playing a clown-fraud like Tommy Wiseau exposes an actor to artifice. Commit too much, and it's a stunt; commit too little, and it's a wink. I don't know exactly how he does it, but James Franco walks the tight-rope precisely. Dave Franco, playing a nineteen-year-old for some of this, is in over his head. If you've ever seen a well-done amateur Shakespeare adaptation, you know the electricity that comes from the company's freedom, when they realize they can do what they want with this supposedly sacrosanct work. So imagine how much fun professionals are in re-staging a work that is objectively terrible. At its worst, The Disaster Artist feels like a trifle. At its best, however, that feeling of putting-on-a-show is what comes across well.

54. Manifesto (Julian Rosenfeldt)- I knew this was various incarnations of Cate Blanchett--a homeless man, a conservative housewife, a broker--performing artistic manifestos. But I didn't know the most clever twist, which is that the manifestos are blended into one another, so that a line of Marx alternates with a line of Tzara with a line of Soupault. That dynamic approach brings to light how confrontational and immature all of these types of writings are, not to mention the collaborative spirit most of those writers had. Your mileage may vary based on your tolerance for intellectual bullshit, but I scratched my chin contentedly. The pairings of the manifestos to the settings are clever, and my favorite was probably a eulogist talking about dadaism at a literal funeral. As artificial as what I'm describing sounds (and yeah, by the eighth or ninth one, you'll check your watch), Blanchett finds an observational truth. The performative posture of a schoolteacher, the pause for fake laughs of a C.E.O., the paper shuffle of a news anchor: She remains the real thing. 53. Brawl in Cell Block 99 (S. Craig Zahler)-  Now that I have taken a shower to wash off the movie's bleak grodiness, I appreciate its solid plotting and grindhouse super-sizing. Like Bone Tomahawk, Zahler's previous film, Brawl in Cell Block 99 takes about an hour to get where it's going. (The inciting incident is technically at 1:08.) I assume the fat is there to develop the protagonist, but I think about twenty minutes could be shaved off. Zahler's rhythms might make for an excellent TV show, but something about that '70s exploitation poster makes me think we won't find out. 52. Columbus (Kogonada)- Columbus wrestles with the balance of information and inspiration. The Cassandra character prevents the Jin character--I'll ignore the gross name symbolism--from looking a date up on his phone because she wants to be able to recall it herself. Earlier than that, the Jin character tries to impress her with knowledge of a building, but she blows him off when he admits that he memorized it from a book he had read earlier in the week. Would that thought be somehow more pure if he had retained it over years? I think that type of calculus is what the film is concerned with, so it makes sense that it centers on architecture, an art of identity as much as it is a science of measurements, an expression as much as it is a utility. If the paragraph above makes it sound as if the movie is up its own ass, running on Sundance fumes through its meth subplot, then you'd be right. I had just enough patience to admire it as a promising debut. 51. The Book of Henry (Colin Trevorrow)- Colin Trevorrow's best film is always compelling--for different reasons in the compassionate first half than it is as it's careening off the rails in the final third. But it's always compelling. You can't complain about all studio movies being the same, then not appreciate something this fundamentally godless and bizarre. 50. Kong: Skull Island (Jordan Vogt-Roberts)- People rag on the DC Universe films for being too serious and dark, but there's no limit to how dark a movie can go as long as it's balancing that mood with something else. Vogt-Roberts gets that, and Kong: Skull Island is a cut above most of these entertainments because he has a deft handle on tone. The film can get scary because it's so silly and fun at other times. Plus, if you have Jackson, Reilly, and Goodman selling your lines, they can be as dumb as you want. Even if the other sequences never reach its level, the first helicopter setpiece is dope, in part because the actual fighting of the monsters is dynamic. Skull Island is pretty far from Brazil, but Kong's chokes, holds, and throws owe a lot to jiu-jitsu. It seems like a consistent piece of design at least. Can we talk about Tom "The Tight Sweater" Hiddleston though? Vogt-Roberts has no idea how to introduce him properly, but he is an absolute zero in the role that is supposed to be heroic. The script doesn't do him any favors--the American army is taking orders from this British mercenary because...--but he is a vacuum of charisma. He's not dangerous in any way, and his blah blah my dad died backstory is delivered with no conviction. I don't get it. 49. T2: Trainspotting (Danny Boyle)- It's a perfectly pleasant experience to see these characters twenty years later--Boyle has a few nostalgic tricks up his sleeve--but "pleasant" is a backhanded response to something as vibrant and essential as the original.There's a meta-reading of T2 that admits that everyone involved is struggling with the same issues as the characters, but even that is kind of like returning to your middle school and realizing that the basketball rims weren't actually that tall. And how do you mess up the music?

48. Brigsby Bear (Dave McCary)- There are some huge ideas on Brigsby Bear's mind. The weight of nostalgia versus genuine affection is there. Caring versus pitying is there. Then there's the idea that drives it: If you're the only person who appreciates a work, does that diminish it in some way? How important is collective experience to art?Those ideas are suggested by the screenplay by Kyle Mooney and Kevin Costello, but they aren't wrestled with directly. Especially in its structure, Brigsby Bear is more conventional than its mysterious introduction and Mooney's bonkers comedic sensibility would have suggested. 47. Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (Martin McDonagh)- Three Billboards flew by for me, and I loved Sam Rockwell's iceberg of a performance. But I was held back by the same elements that hampered Martin McDonagh's other work. There's some profundity lurking in the Harrelson voice-over, and you can't tell me that you didn't get the chills from McDormand's raw scream as her son holds her back from putting out a fire.But it's over-written in the first half--"HOW RESPONSIBLE ARE WE FOR OTHER PEOPLE?" might as well be on a storefront on Main Street. And McDonagh, a real poet of the profane at his best, is so willing to go for the easy joke that he undoes a lot of his own subtlety. Even before the dreadful final five minutes, there's too much plot and too many characters.Perhaps it's an issue of expectations--this would have been a satisfying video store find back in the day, but I'm not sure something so out-of-control should be up for All the Awards.   46. Call Me by Your Name (Luca Guadignino)- For me, this is Guadignino's third straight film in which an emotional urgency underneath never quite equals the lush, meticulous, yet inert exterior wrapping. That being said, Chalamet's performance forces nothing, and the character is a uniquely novelistic creation: knowing everything, practicing mystery, but wearing his confusion on his sleeve. Despite an overall shapeless quality, the film brings everything home in the poignant moments near the end. One of those moments is a five-minute "it gets better" speech by Michael Stuhlbarg. By that point I think most of my audience was willing to go there, but I hesitated to buy it. You can't spend two hours being a movie about what isn't said, then switch over to a movie in which everything is laid out on the table. Then again, that's my exact Guadignino problem. 45. Battle of the Sexes (Jonathan Dayton, Valerie Faris)- Dayton and Faris show as little tennis as possible because they don't know how to make it look interesting. Carell sleepwalks through his role. There's a lot of "Here's plot point A" type dialogue. We're told about King's dedication to the game, but we aren't really shown it. Unfortunately, the whole thing is a Clinton-Trump allegory, and Dayton-Faris expected Clinton to win like everyone else did. But Battle of the Sexes still goes down smooth, mostly because of the tender love story between Billie Jean King and Marilyn Barnett. In fact, every time the film cut to something else, I wanted more of those women discovering each other. I'm a student of Movie Stardom, so I've given Emma Stone her due as a Movie Star. But this is the first time I forgot I was watching Emma Stone. The scene in which Billie Jean and Marilyn meet is an impressionistic, sensual haircut. Marilyn calls Billie Jean pretty, and based on the complicated reception of that compliment--a stumble but not a stammer--you can tell Billie Jean didn't get that much. As written, King is a strange mixture of inward flailing and outward tenacity, and Stone breaks hearts with it. It's not often that one performance can give a movie a reason to exist, but that's why they play the games. 44. King Arthur: The Legend of the Sword (Guy Ritchie)- It's hard to remember a film more uninterested in its own storytelling, and it's even harder to remember a time when I saw that as a strength. If nothing else, the permanent fast-forward button that Guy Ritchie holds feels like a fresh corrective against other self-serious origin legends. I say "origin," but this movie actually feels like a trilogy unto itself, with the excellent initial twenty-five minutes covering about thirty years at a breathtaking pace. The score, which incorporates human breath, makes that literal. Ritchie fashions King Arthur into a scrappy orphan story, so there's a bit of his underdog imprint, but he also sort of assumes that we know the basics of the King Arthur story and yada-yadas a lot. Merlin gets mentioned only by name, Excalibur never gets named, and Arthur literally cuts in line to pull it out of the stone. By the end some of the visuals look like Killer Instinct for the N64 with a code to turn CGI embers all the way up. But I prefer this to the three-hour version that the studio accountants no doubt expected to receive.

43. War for the Planet of the Apes (Matt Reeves)- For better or worse, this movie plays for keeps. Aided by Michael Giacchino's second masterpiece of a score (after Up), the film lets the action speak for itself, going for long stretches without any dialogue. It culminates in the exact go-for-broke ending that I keep asking for. But am I the only one who feels a bit of cognitive dissonance with these movies? The audience I saw it with applauded at the end, but it's hard for me to buy in that way for something that is so dour and self-serious while also being goofy. Like, I'm really supposed to learn about the lessons of work camps from CGI apes? The commitment behind the apes' design is admirable--how has this series not won any effects Oscars yet?--but is the storytelling strong enough to transcend those tricks? It's novel, but I'm not sure it's new. Matt Reeves crams the film with Apocalypse Now allusions, and though I was thoroughly entertained, I couldn't help but think this was Apocalypse Now for people who will never see Apocalypse Now.

#film #lists #movie reviews

[trbl-will-find-me]

Every Exit, An Entrance 10/?

There are two (and only two) possibilities: either she led XCOM to victory and they are now engaged in a clean up operation of alien forces, or XCOM was overrun, clearing the way for an alien-controlled puppet government to seize control of the planet. She’d really like to figure out which it is, but asking hardly seems the prudent option. Read from the beginning here Chapter CW: Suicide allusion

 “Bullshit,” Gunda says. “Flip’em over.” Kelly smirks, revealing her four aces. “I’m almost offended you don’t trust me.” Gunda groans. “Let’s get it over with.”

Kelly pushes the piles of cards towards the woman and the Commander chuckles from her spot on the couch.

“You want in next round, ma’am?” Wallace asks.

“Oh, no,” she grins. “I am quite content to sit and commentate.” “Sounds like someone’s afraid to lose, ma’am,” Krieger sing-songs.

“More like, I’m afraid to give any of you a shot at getting a read on my tells.”

“Planning on some brinksmanship?” Kelly asks.

“No, but I am planning to beat all of your asses at poker, given the opportunity.”

“You play?”

“I had a life outside of commanding, Wallace. Stop looking so shocked.”

“Yeah, but poker?” Gunda pushes.

“It can’t be all eat, sleep, shoot aliens. Believe it or not, I had a whole existence before XCOM. How do you think I paid for beer when I was writing my dissertation?”

“You went to grad school?”

“Again with the disbelief, Wallace. I’ll have you know I have a Masters and a PhD, for all that those are worth now.”

“You’re not military?” Krieger asks, surprise audible.

She cocks her head. “They’re not mutually exclusive, but in my case, no. I’m not. Before I joined XCOM, I’d never held a gun in my life.”

“So, then, who taught you to shoot?”

“Three guesses and the first two don’t count.”

Kelly cackles. “Oh, man. Central? Really? I can picture it now.”

She nods. “Yup. I’m not sure who was more nervous.”

“Wait, so if you’re not military,” Krieger begins. “How did you end up joining?”

The Commander sets the datapad next to her. “It’s a long story, but it boils down to catching the right eyes and having the right connections. Write the right papers, present at the right conferences,” she shrugs. “Have family friends who set you on unusual career paths.”

The men stare at her.

“Alright, shorter answer: serendipity. I’d published a few papers that made waves in the right communities. When the project was taken out of mothballs, someone thought I had something to offer, and I got an invitation to the table.”

“You got your command based on papers?” Gunda asks, incredulity hanging from every word.

She smiles and shakes her head. “Not … not exactly. And I wasn’t the first choice.”

“Who was?”

“Three guesses.”

Wallace almost spits his coffee over the table. “Central? No.”

“Yeah,” she says, nodding.

“What’s so hard to believe about that?” Kelly asks and the Commander swears there’s something approaching offense in the ranger’s voice.

“Central,” Wallace says slowly.

“He’s more than capable,” the Commander counters. “I wouldn’t be here if he weren’t.”

“So, why didn’t he take it?” Krieger asks.

Again, she shrugs. “That’s his story to tell, not mine. You wanna find out, go ask him.”

“Ma’am, I’d really rather not be booted out the airlock.”

“I doubt that would happen. He’d have to go through Engineering, and I don’t get the sense Lily would appreciate her workspace being disturbed.”

“Shen versus Central,” Wallace proposes. “Who wins?”

“Not us,” she says, picking the datapad up again. “We’d be sunk without those two.”

“It’d be a draw,” Sally cuts in, poking her head out from one of the bunks. “Neither of’em would be able to throw the first punch.”

“How long have you been listening?” Kelly asks, craning her neck.

“Long enough to know none of you read personnel files.”

“It’s because we are too busy in the field, unlike someone, no?” Thomas quips as he breezes through quarters, stopping at the card table.

“It’s alright,” Sally smiles. “You’ll have plenty of time to catch up while you recover from that broken jaw you’re gunning for.”

“Easy, you two,” the Commander says. “Thomas, report to wherever the hell it is you’re going. Sally, aren’t you in enough trouble as it is?”

“Assez, non, chérie?” Thomas coos, already on the move.

“Not worth it,” Kelly mouths, shaking her head at the younger woman. “Not worth it.”

“I’m gonna light that stupid braid of his on fire,” Sally grumbles.

“Please don’t,” the Commander says, unlocking the device on her lap. “Burning hair smells awful.”

Five sets of eyes fixate on her. “How do you---“ “Sally, your hair is longer than mine. You’re telling me you never caught a bit in a candle or a campfire?”

“I thought that story was headed somewhere a lot darker,” Krieger mutters.

“It’s not all doom and gloom,” the Commander says, turning her attention back to the briefing the Spokesman had sent after his call. “Sometimes, you just have a mishap with a roommate’s candle. If I start talking about the smell of burning flesh, then you can worry.”

Sally shakes her head. “Well, given how bad this place smells already with all the cigarettes, I’m not gonna be the one to make it worse. I’ll be on the range if anybody needs me.”

“Wait up,” Kelly says, standing. “I’ll go with you.”

“Don’t trust me not to get creative?” “Don’t trust you to listen to your better angels.”

--

She sometimes laughs when she thinks of how well teaching prepared her for commanding. Certainly, the scale and severity of the consequences have changed, but fundamentally, her day still consists of crisis management, ego management, and a parade of faces through her door. Yes, essays have been replaced by intel briefings and After Action Reports, but at least she’s not expected to offer meaningful feedback on how to improve their construction and clarity. Instead of fraternity boys and sorority girls, she now has her men and all the questionable behavior that entails.

Bernard, Pukkila, and Lan are all crowded around the table in the Common Room, a pad of flip chart paper in front of them.

“No, you’d be crazy to make that a down your drink,” Lan insists. “We’ll all be out our livers by the end of the week. We’ll never make it to the ceremony.” “Means you need a stronger liver,” Pukkila counters.

“He has a point, no? It’s supposed to be enjoyable, not a suicide run,” muses Bernard.

“What are we sacrificing our livers for?” She asks, craning over Bernard’s shoulder for a look at the paper. “I don’t think Central’s forgiven you three for the safety briefing shots game yet.”

“Central Officer Bradford will be happy to know he’s not involved in this one,” Lan says. “This time it’s all for our favorite happy couple.”

“Oh no,” she groans. “Really, guys?”

“Ouai,” Bernard drawls. “We should have some fun too.”

“No,” she says, eyeing the three men. “Those two have enough going on with their families as it is.”

“Oh god, we know,” Pukkila groans. “Royston’s mom is having a bigger fit than mine did when I came out. And she’s marrying someone of the expected gender.”

“Martin’s father’s no better,” Bernard says. “Less shrill, though.”

“I don’t think they’ve gotten good wishes from either side,” Lan adds, shaking his head in sympathy. “I’m pretty sure it’s the most Martin’s heard from his dad since he got here, though. So, I guess that’s a positive.”

“Some line of communication is better than none?” The Commander asks. “Never thought of you as an optimist, Lan.”

“What can I say? I’m just sunshine and roses these days.”

“It’s cause he got laid this morning!” Molchetti calls down from the second level.

“Grazie, Isabella,” Lan calls, flipping the sniper off. “Prego, mio caro!”

The Commander shakes her head. “Try not to make it worse for Edouard and Steph, okay? They’re already in a crappy spot.”

“And so are we,” Pukkila insists. “We keep having to listen to it!”

She glares at the assaulter. “Good, then practice your empathy.”

“Yes, mom,” he groans.

She shakes her head and continues toward Mission Control.

“Martin,” she says, pressing a finger to her comm once she’s sure she’s out of hearing range. “You got a minute?”

“Commander?” “Is Steph with you?”

“No, she’s with Hershel.”

“You might want to have words with Bernard and company, then. They’re planning a sequel to their drinking game.”

“Fils de putain. Thanks for the warning.”

“Try not to put anyone in traction.”

“I won’t, but I make no promises for Steph.”

Mission Control is quiet. Scanning the day’s data, she spots two more energy spikes and her stomach twists. She knows Shen’s engineers are working as fast as they can, but can’t ignore the twinge of panic.

Come on, universe. Just give us a little more time. I know I screwed up. Don’t make everyone pay for it.

She’s not sure how the world would handle a resumption in hostilities --- or, more importantly, how the Council would. Obviously, there’d be a stronger push for the weapons specs and, she concedes, a stronger case in favor of it. She imagines, too, that there would be pressure for additional offensive development; with fully automated weaponry like the Sectopod running rampant, the push for a proportional response would be intense.

She’s not sure how the men would handle it either. Operation Avenger had taken place November 14th, and in the aftermath, life had tilted swiftly back towards normal.  Only three days after, they had celebrated Central’s birthday with beer and cake. Two weeks after that, Martin had proposed to Royston. They had gone from a state of near constant alert, a life lived on caffeine and adrenaline, to one of more sustainable vigilance, a life where six hours of sleep was an attainable goal. The strains, the cracks that had widened into crevices, had gone quiet, suddenly manageable once the onslaught had been quelled. Bernard’s smoking is back to a reasonable level. Hershel says prayers other than the Kaddish. She’s even fairly certain Royston and Martin manage to sleep through the night sometimes. The base personnel are starting to lose the dark circles under their eyes, and some are even beginning to show up for shift without firearms. She can’t imagine morale would weather a second storm well.

In their time spent fighting the aliens, they’d only had a single self-inflicted casualty, and even that had felt like one too many. They’d all gotten used to funerals, to death and the rituals of mourning, but still, it had rattled them all. It was impossible to miss the way no one quite left Martin alone for any real period of time, the way the sharpest knives went missing from the kitchen, and the sudden dry up of their liquor stores. She has always been impressed, and maybe more than a little touched, at the way XCOM manages to look out for its own.

She knows, though, on some level, that the holidays would be an ideal time for the aliens to strike back. Psychologically, it would be devastating, the sight of bodies among the cheer, the ensuing chaos as people sought safety in overcrowded shops and streets. Her mind briefly flashes to New York, to Times Square, hundreds of thousands crammed into a space far too small to ever be evacuated quickly. They’d all be slaughtered on live television.

No, no, no, she tells herself. We’re not doing this. We’re not playing what if. The comms are quiet. The comms have been quiet. Molchetti scattered their ship out of existence. This is not a horror movie. There is no gotcha. Rational. Be rational.

She draws in a breath and fights the urge to go search for a piece of wood to knock on. If she’s jinxed them, it’s sure to ward it off. Really. She just has to go, knock on wood, throw some salt, something, anything to ward off the sense that she’s just invited trouble.

She shudders and draws her sweater closer around her. You’re being ridiculous, she tells herself. You can’t control that. You can’t control them. No single thought, unaccompanied by action, has ever led to an attack. Never. It’s an explanatory fiction. You know this. Come on. Don’t go down the rabbit hole.

She goes to pick at the skin of her thumb, already rubbed raw, and is momentarily surprised to find a bandaid covering it.

Of course. That had been Central’s work yesterday, after he’d watched her tear at the offending flesh for the duration of a staff meeting. He’d waited until Shen and Vahlen had left, then pulled the bandage from his wallet, wrapping it around her finger.

“It hurts just looking at that,” he’d told her. “It’s gotta sting.”

She nods. “At least it feels like something.”

The worry in his eyes had said all he’d needed it to.

#xcom #Fic #every exit an entrance #commander/central #i'll update the masterpost when i'm not on mobile --- i haven't forgotten!