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grimesgirll · 22 days

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somewhat obsessed with the idea of wearing rick’s boxers.

it’s like second nature to you. it has to be.

after every time you slid into bed, every time rick and daryl strip you of your own undergarments, every time they fuck you dumb, everytime rick maneuvers you into your position bundled against his chest, you’re wearing a pair of his boxers.

the two had been surprised at first when they found you face down on the bed after a long day in nothing but a tiny tank top and rick’s blue and white striped boxers.

it took everything in them not to pounce on you right then and there. but when you woke up, you were more than happy to fess up to stealing rick’s boxers to wear as shorts.

rick could barely contain himself one afternoon in alexandria. you were taking judith on a wholesome stroll but you were wearing a pair of pale blue boxer shorts with a soft, white long sleeve and one of rick’s white button ups thrown on. later, he had to explain to you that he wasn’t snubbing you when you caught sight of him and tried to wave him over, just trying to keep his zipper from busting.

you had just laughed and quipped that they were the perfect bottoms.

from then on, rick found his boxer shorts going missing; on runs, he’d found you in the men’s underwear section, stripping down to try on a pair of striped ralph lauren boxers. that’s how the two of you ended up sweating and shamelessly blushed out on the cramped car ride home.

the rose painting your countenance couldn’t cease because you knew you smelled like sex. rick too. from the creamy ring you’d left around his cock as he lifted you off of him and onto the mahogany sales table, you knew you two had overdone it. with the wide block of time you had today to secure supplies, rick felt free to fuck your pussy twice, filling you up enough to have you seen stars on the sales floor.

all because you’d styled his underwear as shorts.

daryl teases his friend about it.

“can’t even wake up without seein’ her in ‘em and gettin’ hard.”

daryl’s a hypocrite however.

even the woodsman isn’t immune to your figure in those boyish bottoms.

it’s twenty-five minutes into your small game hunt when daryl’s hands are in your boxers. you had actually wanted to catch a rabbit or some quail, but once your boyfriend’s fingers are between your folds, you can’t find the will to complain.

the two of you start with him holding you against a hemlock, arms wrapping around you while he fingers you nice and slow, boxers down around your ankles. as he massages your plush walls, daryl counts how casual you are about going commando as one of his blessings.

then it turns. then suddenly there’s a pine needle in your mouth. you spit the green thing out and try to brace yourself against the forest floor. it had happened so fast; his tongue tag teaming you with his fingers to crack you open like a safe in record time. then you were face down with nothing but a denim jacket quickly strewn beneath you.

you love when he or rick spring this kinda thing on you - it’s spontaneous, wild, a little risky in all the right ways. yes, most nights you’d prefer to be rolled up into a blanket burrito with your boys and a glass of wine but the adventures like this really do something for you.

pupils expanded, your chest is heavy when daryl’s the first to come out of your post-romp fog and collect your boxers. your legs are still shaking when the fabric touches your skin.

“daryl!”

you’d protested when the man began to pull up your boxer briefs. full of his cum, you want to clean up before you soil your bottoms but daryl disregards the swats to his hands. slightly annoyed, you hurried ahead of him through the tract of woods back towards alexandria. it’s fine. he just enjoyed the view of your ass.

complaints crawl out of your mouth as soon as you’re in the door and you’re haphazardly hanging your rifle on the wall. daryl brings in the rear behind you while you’re stomping up the stairs to rick.

your chocolate curled lover is taking off his watch, ready to drop it into the ceramic dish on the dresser when you appear next him, shimmying down your bottoms in a huff.

“hey, darlin’,” he greets, expecting more than a scowl from you.

“hey,” you reply curtly, face still in a pout.

“-make sure you don’t take off those boxers, baby-,” daryl stops dead in his tracks at the sight of your bared pussy in the bedroom lamplight. rick’s also taking it in, eyes trailing from your waist to the trimmed bush, and the puffy pink pussy peeking out, now leaking with daryl’s sticky cum.

you bend over to pick up the soiled shorts. “you’re not the only one who likes these,” you point out.

blue eyes narrow. but before he can give you any lip, you’re giving him not one, but both of yours. smashed against your mouth, rick’s tongue delves between those pillowy lips while walking you towards the bed where daryl’s waiting to situate you on his lap once more. daryl’s antics weren’t enough to turn off the blazing furnace between your legs. no, your temper can handle a few more rounds. it’s not hard when your mind paces back to the eye rolling, all consuming inferno that had cyclones through your core.

they trap you in a kiss. sandwiched between both of their hard ons, you’re shifting and grinding in each direction.

“thought you were pissed off with me,” daryl breathes into your ear, fingertips skimming your waist.

you snort, leaning back into him to grant full access to your bared neck. without hesitation, he’s licking a wicked pattern up the column of your neck. “dare’,” you sigh. gasp after gasp, you melt into his touch.

daryl’s hands are beneath the fat of your rear already and all of the sudden, one of rick’s fingers has snaked its way down to your clit. the fervid flicking against your ardor flush tissue culls any anger you could have towards the two men. you can’t even think about holding a grudge once rick gets a finger into you. at two fingers, daryl’s kissing you with the ferocity of a wildfire. three fingers inside of you and you’re babbling;

“rick, faster, please.”

“what was that?”

“please - faster, can you please?”

the grin on his face is as wide as the pacific. his lips turn upwards into a sly smile. “you want somethin’ a little faster, darlin’?” you shake your head as if it’s obvious. he hmmphs. “you oughta’ sit on daryl’s cock.”

you can’t imagine a world where that’s an unpopular idea.

back onto daryl you go.

those hands at your hips come in handy; daryl raises you a few inches once rick’s removed his fingers. eyes focused on rick and the way his mouth closes around one pruning finger. sucking it clean while daryl’s tip brushes your slick entrance. any yearning radiating off of you can’t be hidden. that kind of heat and wetness down between your thighs is no lie.

so a hiss is to be expected when the muscled man wiggles his way into you. rick is saving a mental image of you - adjusting to the familiar stretch of daryl. your blush doesn’t ease once daryl works another half inch inside.

one moment you’re trying to process daryl’s cock as it’s suddenly seated in you to the hilt. the next rick catches your gaze again. this time he’s doing more than teasing you, taking advantage of your parted lips to invade with his tongue.

“rick,” you mumble against his lips.

“you gettin’ close, angel?”

“should feel ‘er,” daryl rasps. with each thrust of his you’re clinging to rick. “so fuckin’ tight like you didn’t get this perfect pussy fucked in the woods.”

“that’s where you guys went?”

your mischevious grin is hidden in the crook of rick’s necks. the telltale tightening around daryl’s length is all consuming. your grin turns into an open “o” shape when daryl drags across your cervix. sensations from your convulsing core are consuming him too.

that same lust from the woods washes over daryl like the tide and you’re the moon, pulling him in and leading him to crash into you. usually this is rick’s wheelhouse, but one glance into daryl’s darkened pupils and you’re ripped from rick. on top of daryl’s lap, you’re wrapped in his arms, bouncing up and down on the rock hard cock beneath you. he sets the pace while you can only claw at his chest. he returns the favor and reaches forward to palm your tit, relishing in your sweet moans when he rolls a hardened bud between two fingers.

riding him on the bed is such a break for your knees compared to the forest floor. gyrating your hips activates not only the core that keeps you fit but the molten hot bundle of nerves at your core. daryl ruts against you deliciously to deliver just the perfect level of pressure.

rick can’t help but be bewitched at everything unfolding on the surface of the mattress. daryl’s length disappears inside out of you, reappearing with each erratic movement of your hips. there’s no reason to be jealous but if looks could kill, daryl’d be dead simply for the privilege of burying himself inside those heavenly walls.

meanwhile, heat bursts down below like a mini neutron star collision within you. forehead cast with sweat, the energy is fading from your movements as you messily move your pelvis to brush against daryl.

a “fuck, baby,” escapes from his lips and you’re done for. and so is he.

shooting into the sheets and collapsing by your side. you’re prepared to slide into daryl’s embrace when there’s suddenly a familiar feeling breaching your bared pussy.

nails dig into your hips and daryl’s back at it again - lapping his tongue up and down your slit. you were thinking that you two would at least catch your breaths but daryl’s taking no breaks. rick isn’t either.

in true rick fashion, he’s tapping your lips with his impressive cock. how can you say no to that?

you open your mouth and moan around his cock once you feel those devious fingers in your hair. it’s like that sense of overwhelm’s been replicated again. tongue against your clit and yours on the underside of rick, you never imagined your afternoon going this way. all this thanks to your little fashion trend.

“princess, your mouth feels amazing.”

you bob your head in appreciation. just like daryl’s taking care of you, you’re taking your time swallowing around the man in your mouth, treating him to the tight embrace of your throat.

“you like gettin’ a cock down your throat while daryl licks you stupid?”

“mhmmm!” you nod forward onto rick.

as soon as your moans reach daryl’s ears, his tongue’s kicking into hyperdrive. goaded by your delightful little whimpers, daryl begins swabbing a vicious pattern across your folds. the redneck alternates between racing over your sopping tissue to flattening that tongue and saddle you with a finger.

“ooommph,” is the only sound that comes out with rick’s steel hard cock down your throat.

spit slick, rick throbs in your mouth. that painful hardness he’s enduring is granted some sweet relief by your hollowed cheeks. you don’t stop there. driven by the lust addled, cock crazy part of your brain, you’re fully sending rick down your airway. breaths come briefly when he lets you up for air or to howl or cry, “dare’!”

right on time, your core is heating up again. the kiln inside of you scorches. neutralizing you, the ecstasy of another orgasm has you nearly folding into your leader. the blue eyed sheriff even leans back, tugging you up by the hair to keep you from actually choking on his cock. daryl’s diligent puckering around all of your important parts is overwhelming you against, a strategic hand on your clit as well.

as if you were all in sync, rick comes in your mouth first, fingers weaving through your gossamer locks while your thighs quake. you gag at first, before swirling your tongue under the twitching cock and swallowing it all. like a good girl.

once rick’s coming undone, daryl continues swirling his tongue around you. your pussy weeps for him. it contracts around his tongue until even rick’s raising his eyebrows at the vulgar slurping sounds filling the room.

“dare’,” you whine.

“gonna’ be a good girl and come all over dare’s tongue?” rick teases.

“yes, please!” you beg, banging a fist against the sheets.

“you gonna’ let daryl taste all of that perfect pussy?”

tears well in your eyes from the overstimulation but you nod as enthusiastically as possible. “pleeaase!”

you don’t have to ask again because you’re too busy arching into your third orgasm of the day. clenching and unclenching, your insides flutter. “ah!”

“so pretty when you come, baby.”

you’re dissolving into rick’s touch as your climax rings through your cunt. starry eyed and panting the pleasure out through your lungs.

you could fall asleep right there. and you do.

it ends as it always does.

following the flush and the lips leaving the surface of your skin, you feel a familiar fabric traveling up your thighs and double kisses mandating that nap that had been on your mind. the bed and the cozy comfort of sleep swallows you whole. rick too. he can never get close enough, not when you’re wearing his boxers.

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superiorsturgeon · 4 months

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Are You Sure About Her?

Pyrrha: *meeting Arc family for the first time, happily chatting away*

Mama Arc: Jaune, dear, can you come help me with something please?

Jaune: Hm? Sure, mom!

Jaune: *follows his mother to the kitchen* What do you need?

Mama Arc: …

Mama Arc: …Jaune, dear, are you really sure about this girl?

Jaune: …what? Of course I am! Pyrrha’s awesome! Why would you even ask?

Mama Arc: She seems nice, but…well…she’s a celebrity.

Jaune: Uh…yeah? Basically everyone but me already knew her when we started at school.

Mama Arc: *folds her arms* You don’t understand, sweetie. A few years back, a star athlete and a boy at her school hooked up, and because of her celebrity status they kept their relationship secret to protect him.

Mama Arc: Things went on like that until she unexpectedly got pregnant. They kept the child secret too, again, to protect them.

Mama Arc: But as time went on and the press celebrated her return to sports, she spent less and less time visiting that boy and her child. She was always out drinking, competing, and socializing, and eventually, things completely fell apart. That poor boy gave up his dreams for someone who left when she got tired of him.

Mama Arc: …And I don’t want to see that happen to my son!

Jaune: …

Jaune: …mom, I’m sorry you’re worried, but you’re wrong about Pyrrha.

Mama Arc: But how can you be sure? You’re both so young!

Jaune: Well…For one thing, everyone already knows that me and Pyrrha are dating! When she came to Beacon she told me she wanted to make real friends, and now we’ve both got lots of awesome people who know us both. We even go on double dates with our teammates!

Jaune: And…I guess the most important thing is that it’s Pyrrha, and I trust her.

Mama Arc: 🤨

Jaune: *quailing under the “Mom Stare.”* I-I mean it! When I first went to Beacon, nobody believed in me! Even you and dad talked like you expected me to fail and come back home any day and become a farmer!

Jaune: But not Pyrrha!

Jaune: *awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, trying to form the words* She…she came and pulled my sorry butt out of a tree during the initiation, when she could’ve left me behind and done the actual test! A-and then when trained fighters were teaming up all around us, she came and picked ME to be her partner!

Mama Arc: Well, that’s-

Jaune: *interrupting, Defend Partner™️ mode engaged* And after I made it through by the skin of my teeth and started acting like a cringy tough-guy jerk, she stuck by me! And once I realized what an idiot I was being, she offered to train me.

Jaune: Do you understand? Pyrrha Nikos, Mistral’s invincible gladiator, after everything I did wrong and how crappy I acted, believed I could be better! She believed in me when nobody else did!

Jaune: Pyrrha’s an absolute angel, mom. She’s the strongest and smartest person in the whole school! I watched her take on an entire team by herself and win without breaking a sweat!

Jaune: She could’ve done anything she wanted. She still CAN do anything she wants! And she-she believes in ME!

Jaune: And I believe in her! She’s the most caring, kind, and wonderful person I’ve ever met, mom. I know she would NEVER hurt me, and I trust her with my whole heart!

Mama Arc: …

Jaune: *leans against the counter, panting a bit*

Mama Arc: …it sounds like you really love this girl, Jaune.

Jaune: *drained from his passionate speech* I think so, mom. I know it sounds kinda dumb, but everything I do is more awesome when she’s around!

Mama Arc:

Mama Arc: *smiles and ruffles Jaune’s hair* My little boy has sure grown up a lot since he ran off to become a hero.

Jaune: *squirms* I guess, but it’s all because of the friends I made…but mostly Pyrrha!

Mama Arc: *smiles over Jaune’s shoulder*

Jaune: …what? *turns around*

Pyrrha: *standing in the doorway, sniffling and covering her mouth* 🥹

Arc Family: *crowded in behind Pyrrha* 😁

Jaune: …

Jaune: …how long-?

Youngest Arc Sister: Since the first word you big sappy dork!

#this is the closest you’ll ever get to real angsty writing from me #rwby #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #arkos #jaune x pyrrha #jaune arc x pyrrha nikos #mama arc #papa arc #arc sisters

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 4 months

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Pt XIII good omens: The Adventures of Crowley and Aziraquail (Ages 3+)

@innefableidiot Shout out to you for my Good Omens villain arc origin story. I saw your Duck Omens, I reblogged it thinking I had too small of an attention span to watch a whole show, but the Duck Crowley and Aziraphale looked so adorable anyway. But I had flirted with the devil, Good Omens took over my dash, I made a summary, and here we are. This is in honour of you.

Good Omens, as a toddler's book. Yes I wrote an entire toddler's story for this post. If you do like this ridiculous thing, it would be nice if you could reblog it :") That's the only way it can get to more people. And god knows the children of divorce need a good bedtime story. So here you are, to heal the pain.

Crowley the Crow had always been a naughty little bird. Look at him go, flapping over the street... He wanted to steal something! Oh, no, Crowley. Stealing isn't very nice of you.

"I'm not nice," cawed Crowley. "Not nice at all."

Aziraquail the Quail sat near, on a telephone line. He was eating a piece of grain. Munch, munch, much, went Aziraquail. He saw Crowley and waved his wing.

"Crowley!" trilled Aziraquail. "What are you up to?"

"I'm going to steal something," said Crowley. He waved back. Aziraquail was his friend, and it is polite to greet your friends. That's how they know you care! "Look, Aziraquail, that human has a very shiny ring!"

"It is a very shiny ring," Aziraquail said, looking down. Aziraquail wanted to tell the truth. He didn't always succeed, but that's okay! It's very, very important to try. "But Crowley, you can't steal the very shiny ring! It doesn't belong to you."

Crowley was very confused. He landed on the telephone line beside Aziraquail. "But if the very shiny ring belonged to me, how would I steal it?"

Aziraquail sighed. But he decided to explain it to Crowley anyway. Sometimes, people aren't trying to be bad! They just don't know any better. "You shouldn't steal it at all, Crowley. Stealing will make the human sad."

"Oh goodie," said Crowley. "That sounds fun."

"No!" cried Aziraquail. Aziraquail didn't like the sound of that, not one bit. "Crowley, don't make the human sad. Or I shan't be your friend."

Crowley thought over that. He didn't like that. Aziraquail was his very best friend. Friends are very important, and Crowley knew that. But oh! He did so want that very shiny ring.

Crowley looked down at the human again. No, Crowley! Don't do it!

With a flap of his wings, and a flip of his wings, down Crowley flew, to snatch the human's very shiny ring! Oh, dear, Crowley. How very naughty of you.

But what was this? Crowley bumped straight into the human's head! He bounced off and away he went, landing with a huff on the pavement. That's the part next to the street.

The human was very cross. "Come back here, you bad bird!" she shouted. That wasn't polite of her, was it? When you're upset with someone, you shouldn't shout right away. What if it had been an accident?

"It wasn't an accident," said Crowley. He was grumpy. "I wanted to steal her very shiny ring."

Naughty Crowley.

The human ran towards Crowley to scold him. Poor Crowley! But just as the human stepped off the street, along came a very fast bike, and whoosh! Away it went, just missing the human.

Oh my. You mustn't speed on streets like that, very fast bike! You could have hit somebody. Look at that sign over there. This street is for pedestrians, too! Pedestrians is a grown-up way of saying people who aren't on a vehicle. Grown-ups like fancy words.

"Wait a moment," said the human. She stopped and looked at Crowley. "Oh, little crow, you saved me! I could have been hit!"

Crowley blinked. He was very confused. But he'd been trying to be naughty!

"Thank you!" said the human. "Oh, thank you, little bird. What can I do for you?" She looked down at her hand. "Crows like shiny things, don't they? Here, take this very shiny ring. I got it for free with sweets, and I don't even like it."

She gave Crowley the very shiny ring.

"Thank you," said Crowley, because he might be a naughty little crow, but he was a very polite little crow.

The human waved goodbye, and went on her way. Aziraquail landed on the pavement next to Crowley.

"Oh, Crowley," said Aziraquail. "You aren't very good at being naughty, are you?"

"Yes I am!" said Crowley.

Aziraquail smiled. "But you saved the human! And you didn't steal the ring. She gave it to you all by herself, as a reward. Isn't that much nicer?"

"I'm not nice," said Crowley. Oh, Crowley, you silly, silly, crow. "Well, if I'd done it your way, she wouldn't have been saved! So you aren't very good at being nice."

Aziraquail looked sad. Crowley didn't like that. Aziraquail was his friend, and friends don't make each other sad.

"I'm sorry," said Crowley. "But don't you want to know why I wanted the very shiny ring?"

Oh my, Crowley. Why did you want the very shiny ring?

"To be naughty," said Aziraquail. He was still hurt. Sometimes, even when you say sorry, it isn't enough. And that's okay.

"No," said Crowley. He held it out with his little crow beak, and put it on Aziraquail's foot! "It was for you! Because you're my very best friend."

"We're not friends," said Aziraquail. Sometimes, when we're hurt, we say things we don't mean.

Crowley looked sad. "We're not?"

Aziraquail thought and thought. And decided that he had been rather silly. "I'm sorry," he said too. "Of course we're friends. Thank you for the very shiny ring, Crowley!"

Crowley smiled his naughty little smile.

And then, oh my! How cute. Aziraquail leaned over and gave Crowley a kiss on his feathery little cheek. "It's very pretty. I love you, Crowley!"

It is very important to tell your friends that you love them. You don't have to say it with words. Crowley said it with a little kiss back, because he was too shy to speak.

What a very nice crow you are, Crowley.

"I'm not nice!"

"Crowley!"

"Okay, fine, just a little bit."

The End.

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gallusrostromegalus · 1 year

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the 'Kon :)' in the list of things you're pleased about in aeiwam has be EXCITED please tell us more (if you want to)!

Soon after Masaki died, Isshin Kurosaki moved his family. It's mostly because the original clinic didn't feel haunted- if Masaki's spirit were still here, Isshin would know what to do, but instead he felt like his heels were dogged by the hole where she used to be.

It didn't hurt that the new place was larger, in a better school district, and closer to his friend Ryukken. He's almost feeling cheerful about the new place when Ichigo runs up the stairs and from room to room before calling dibs on one, because he's a big kid now and doesn't want to sleep where he has to listen to his dad snoring all night >:(.

Isshin felt slightly less cheerful when he looked out the big window in Ichigo's room to determine if he needs to put up some child safety grates, and realized their new neighbor was a taxidermist.

"I feel like it gives them a sort of dignity- A Life After Life, if you will." she said when he went by to make sure his neighbor was only eccentric and not something out of a horror movie. He wasn't entirely sure which, actually- Ms. Tanaka was an octogenarian with skin like tissue paper and a back like a question mark, but her living room was a veritable zoo of reconstituted animals, many of them former pets, if the number of domestic cats was anything to go by.

"Oh. Yeah!" Isshin grinned, terrified, and was struck by the idea of some goon in the 12th division slavering in the afterlife, desperate for her to shuffle off the mortal coil and bring her undoubted skills with dead bodies to R&D. "We've always been very spiritual people."

(Continued under the readmore)

"Oh, just like the nice young man who used to live in your house!" said Ms. Tanaka, sitting down in her armchair that was adorned by an ostentatious past-tense peacock perched on the back. "Odd fellow. Worked nights, spoke like he was born in the Sengoku Era or something, but very nice."

"He's BEAUTIFUL!" said Ichigo, staring in awe at an enormous Ginger Tabby Cat by the window, mounted in repose on a emerald velvet cat bed. Ms. Tanaka had done an excellent job conveying a sense of benevolent egotism on his whiskered face, but Ichigo's growing fascination with the Macabre was beginning to worry his father- Ichigo had seen the taxidermy stoat in the back window and INSISTED on coming along.

"Isn't he?" beamed Ms. Tanaka. "His name is Bostov! He was my very best friend for many years."

"Wow! Can I pet him?" Ichigo asked, eyes wide with delight.

"Ichigo, that's uh- that's not a real kitty-" Isshin began to sputter.

"Of course he's a real kitty!" Ms. Tanaka laughed, a noise like an ungreased gate. "You can pet him if you're very gentle." Ichigo stroked the deceased animal with exceptional delicacy for an overexcited Kindergartner. "He's so soft!" he gasped.

"Do you like him?" asked Ms. Tanaka.

"I LOVE HIM!" Said Ichigo, cheeks flushed and eyes bright for the first time in months now. Perhaps having a distant relative of the Addams family for a neighbor isn't so bad, if her creepy hobby cheers Ichigo up... Isshin sighed.

"In that case, why don't you take him home with you?" Smiled Ms. Tanaka. "I'm sure he'll be a good friend to you too."

"UH." Isshin blurted out, nearly spilling his tea on a flock of quail under the side-table.

"I have SO MANY friends in my home with me- it's bordering on a fire hazard!" Ms. Tanaka chuckled. "I'd be delighted to send him to a home where he'll be loved. Please- consider him my housewarming present!"

"CAN WE? CAN WE TAKE HIM HOME? PLEASE DAD??PLEEEEEEEASE-!!" Ichigo asked, stars in his eyes.

Isshin froze, horrified at the prospect of having... That. In his house. Watching him. ...and at the same time, completely unwilling to dash his little boy's dreams.

"yEaH oKaY." Isshin grimaced, soaked in a cold sweat.

*****

Bostov The Former Cat was bad enough, but at least the taxidermy beast 'lived' on Ichigo's bedroom dresser and not down in the living room where Isshin would have to look at it's green glass eyes, which seemed to follow him around the room. It wasn't right having a hollow thing in the house like that- any wandering spirit could decide to climb in there! He resolved to have it warded, but Kisuke said he was on a trip to the Caribbean for "Botanical Research" , and wouldn't be back until "After the Big Holiday on the 20th". Isshin hung up the phone, groaned and rubbed his face. It was fairly late, and he was still at the kitchen table, going through all of the licensing paperwork to get the clinic up and running.

"Hey Dad?" Ichigo asked, holding up a small plastic toy. "What's 'Soul Candy'?"

"Soul Cand-?" Isshin frowned, turned to look at the toy and nearly jumped out of his skin, swiping it away from the boy. "WHERE DID YOU FIND THIS? DID YOU EAT ANY??"

"...it was upstairs, in the back of my closet." Ichigo pouted. "-and no, I didn't eat any strange closet candy. I'm not stupid."

"Oh thank the Gods..." Isshin sighed, sitting back down at the table and shaking the small, duck-headed pill dispenser. Empty. "-I'm sorry I yelled Ichigo, but this is Very Dangerous stuff."

Ichigo arched an incredulous Eyebrow at him. "Really? Is this the same kind of dangerous that the half my Halloween candy you confiscated and ate was?"

"Ah- well. No. That was Dad Tax. This is actually dangerous. Here, come sit with me a minute." he pulled out the other chair at the kitchen table. "Remember how I told you about the ghost that lived in my attic when I was your age?"

"The Shinigami?" Ichigo asked.

Isshin did not *enjoy* lying to his children, but a little knowledge was a dangerous thing, and not enough even more so, so he'd concocted a little fantasy to explain why he knew all about ghosts and why the children never saw their grandparents, so he could tell them about the dangers of this world without telling them too much.

"That's right- His name was Kaien Shiba, and he was a Soul Reaper. At night, he'd turn into a ghost and leave his body behind, and go escort spirits to the afterlife or fight hollows." Isshin said. he'd named the fictional soul reaper after his favorite nephew in a fit of inspiration- he'd started telling Ichigo a tale from his days as a Shinigami one night after slightly too many drinks and had to convince Ichigo that that was only a distant acquaintance.

"...Like what killed Mom." Ichigo muttered.

"Um. Yeah." Isshin nodded.

They were silent for a moment.

"-Anyway, the way he turned into a ghost was that he'd swallow one of these little candies that would come in these tubes-" Isshin pulled the duck's head back to show Ichigo the mechanism. "-and Poof! he'd jump out of his body as a ghost so he could use magic to save people! But-there was a little soul inside the candy that would come out and take care of his body while he was away! Like a babysitter, but for his own butt! After a few hours, the little soul would stop working, and Kain would be home to climb back in."

Ichigo blinked at the mechanism, thinking. "So. There's a little person in these candies?"

"If there were any in here, yeah." Said Isshin. "They're not like. Whole people. Just little collages of behaviors and phrases. You know, like the fake voice that talks on the phone when you call to refill a prescription!" Ichigo frowned, considering something. "...There weren't any candies in this thing, were there?" Isshin asked, suspicious.

"No." Said Ichigo, frowning at him. "It'd be really lonely, being just a little soul, stuck in a candy, wouldn't it?" he asked.

"I suppose so, but I don't think the little souls are aware while they're in there. It's like being asleep for them." Isshin shrugged, lying to himself as much as his son about that.

Ichigo still frowned. "...What happens if the candy goes into a body without a soul in it? Like a dead body?" "Huh." Isshin frowned. "I dunno, actually. I guess the little soul would run around and operate it for a while, until it faded out, like it did with a normal body?"

Ichigo nodded, still preoccupied.

"Why?" Isshin tried.

"...No reason." Ichigo muttered, kicking his little feet. "Just thinking."

"Alright. Promise me if you find anything else weird or see any random candies to not touch them and tell me right away, okay?"

"Yeah okay." Ichigo nodded, only sort of paying attention. "I'm gonna go to bed. G'night dad." he muttered, getting up from the table and handing the dispenser to Isshin before giving him a quick hug and stomping up the stairs.

Isshin watched him go, aching a bit. I wondered how old he was gonna be when he started keeping secrets from me. He sighed, looking down at the Soul Candy Dispenser. Not that I'm being a Paragon of Honesty for him to follow...

---

"GIRLS? ICHIGO? HAVE ANY OF YOU SEEN MY STETHOSCOPE?" Isshin hollered, searching fruitlessly under the couch cushions.

"NO!" Hollered Karin from where she and Yuzu were playing in the small front yard.

"TRY ICHIGO'S ROOM, HE TOOK A BUNCH OF LAUNDRY UP TO SORT." called Yuzu.

"THANKS GIRLS!" he called back stomping up the stairs. Ichigo was at karate- he'd finally returned to classes, or at least, Tatsuki had finally physically dragged him back into the Dojo. "Man I hope I didn't put it through the washing machine-" he muttered, opening the door to the boy's room and started searching through the basket of laundry on his bed.

Isshin stopped, and stood up, frowning around the room. Something was off.

Ichigo was a tidy boy, somehow, and his room was usually in order save for whatever video game he had out to play and the bed he never made but... Isshin turned fully around trying to figure out what was off before his eyes finally landed on the top of the Dresser.

The Emerald Green Velvet Cat bed, home of Bostov The Cat, was empty.

"Did he take the cat out of the bed to play with?" Isshin wondered aloud, hoping that that, and not several other horrible scenarios, was what was happening. He could hear Karin and Yuzu giggling through the window, and he peeked down at them- they appeared to be having a tea party on the thin strip of grass, and the guest of honor amongst the dolls and stuffed animals was a familiar-looking ginger tabby. "Oh! The GIRLS took him out to play with." he sighed with relief, leaning against the window to watch them.

...and watch a strange man approaching down the street, who stopped at the garden fence. Isshin frowned- maybe he was just watching the girls play, in a normal, wholesome way like he was doing right now. ...or he could be taking candy out of his pocket and waving the girls to come through the gate.

Isshin jumped on the bed, tore open the window with such force it jumoed out of it's track and was halfway out to jump down at the man from the second floor when the most EXTRAORDINARY thing happened.

Bostov, Who by all accounts had been deceased for the better part of a decade and was made of little more than a skin and some glass stretched over a wood-and-cotton frame, Suddenly leapt up from his chair, claws and teeth drawn like swords and leapt upon the man, battering him visciously with a stream of einvective so foul it made Isshin's barrack-hardened linguistic sensibilities blush, before chasing him back down the street like a short, furious, ass-seeking missile.

"GIRLS!" he shouted, jumping down anyway. "-ARE YOU OKAY?"

"DON'T GET MAD AT ICHIGO OR KON!!" Shouted Yuzu, tears in her eyes.

"...ichigo or who?" Isshin blinked.

"Way to spill the beans, Yuzu." Karin groaned. "Yeah Dad, we're FINE- Kon was here, he'll beat the crap out of anything."

"Who's Kon?" Isshin repeated.

"HEY DAD." Shouted Ichigo, skidding into the garden in his karate gi, and out of breath, clutching an unconvincingly stiff Mr. Bostov under his arm. "SO. UH- WELL MR. BOSTOV CAN MOVE NOW. FOR SOME REASON."

"Uh-huh?" Isshin glared at the cat, who glanced away nervously. "Why do you think that is?"

"...it's a Christmas Miracle?" Tried Ichigo.

"Ichigo, it's fucking April." groaned Karin.

"...Passover?" tried Ichigo.

"-This wouldn't have anything to do with that Soul Candy Dispenser you found, would it?"

"uhhhhhhh..." said Ichigo. Honesty might not have been one of the boy's virtues, but at least he was a terrible liar.

"PLEASE DADDY DON'T GET ANGRY!!" Sobbed Yuzu, throwing herself around his calf and wailing. "MR. KON IS THE MOST NICEST KITTY IN THE WHOLE WORLD! HE PLAYS TEA TIME AND DRESS-UP WITH US AND TELLS JOKES AND CHASES AWAY DOGS AND SCARY MEN AND HE ALWAYS WAKES UP ICHIGO WHEN HE'S HAVING A NIGHTMARE-!"

"Yeah, actually, Kon's like. the first thing to make me laugh since. Well." Mumbled Karin, plodding over to Isshin's other leg and leaning heavily on him. "Please? he's weird, but he's a good guy."

Isshin sighed, then glared back down at the cat. "Alright. Who are you?" he demanded.

Ichigo and the formerly immobile cat glanced at each other and the feline unfolded as Ichigo set him down, shaking himself out and sitting on the walkway.

"So, uh- Hi. My name's Kon. Kon Bostov, if you wanna be formal, in honor of the beast whose body I currently inhabit." He nodded, waving a paw evocatively. "-And, uh. Well, how much do you know about the afterlife?"

"-Being from a long line of psychic mediums and prone to hauntings, my parents rented out our attic to a Shinigami when I was a child, and he told me pretty much everything." Said Isshin, and Kon winced. "So. Is 'Kon' short for 'Mod Konpaku'?"

"Ehh... well, Yeah." Kon winced. "-But hey! It wasn't my idea to be cooked up in a lab by some maniac and then put to death minutes later for something I didn't even do!" he snarled, fur bristling.

"What?" asked Karin.

"Kids I- Look, I didn't mean to lie, there just wasn't a good time to bring it up but. Technically, I'm wanted by the law. I'm an artificial soul created for battle to be put into dead bodies, but literally four and a half minutes after I woke up, the soul society- where all the Shinigami are from- condemned me to die, because they didn't like how strong some of the other Mod Souls were. I managed to roll myself off of the table and into a box of normal bodyminders to hide, Got put in a dispenser and then the shinigami that had been here accidentally left me behind." Kon explained.

"COOL!" Shouted Karin.

"NOT COOL. BAD!" Shouted Isshin. "Okay, okay I- I mean you're right, I never- I mean, the way Kaien told it, the whole Mod Soul program was pretty shady and it sounded really unfair. But why would a Shinigami just leave an important and dangerous tool lying around?"

"...I don't know how much spiritual sense you have my guy, but this town doesn't have a Hollow problem so much as the Hollowpocalylse goin' on." Kon grimaced. "-I really hope that guy's okay, he seemed pretty cool from what I could tell. I don't actually remember hearing him get called back to soul society." Kon muttered. "-Anyway, about three weeks ago, your brother found me in the dispenser in the back of his closet and put my candy body into this taxidermy cat, and I've been hanging out with the kids since then! You know, like a cat is supposed to do!"

Isshin stared blankly at Kon. The girls hugged his legs, lips wobbling, but he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, firming up his resolve- no matter how nice he seemed, a Mod Soul was a dangerous thing- and one crafty enough to live right under his nose for the better part of a month? No, absolutely n-

Isshin opened his eyes to see Ichigo had picked up Kon, cradling the cat to his tiny body, eyes wide and beginning to glisten with tears.

"...Ah. What the hell. You make the kids laugh." Isshin sighed, and all four cheered, thanking him profusely and promising to be extra-good and take good care of Kon- "But you put so much as a Whisker out of line and you're in deep trouble, got it?" Isshin leaned into the cat's face, scowling menacingly and shaking his finger at Kon.

"Understood sir!" Kon Saluted. "So when's dinner? Ichigo's been sneaking me scraps but I could really go for some chicken, or maybe ham-" he asked, tail thrashing excitedly.

"You can eat?" Isshin asked. "I thought you were all... Whatever they stuff taxidermy animals with?"

"-Might've been, but I'm all complete now? Fluff, guts, claws-the works!" Kon shrugged, hopping up on Isshin's shoulder. "-Between you an' me, I ain't even neutered! But that ain't a problem- Plenty of hot pussy around, if you know what I mean, especially that sweet little tuxedo bobtail just up the street- Me-YOW, huh?"

"Oh gods." Groaned Isshin, covering his face. "What am I letting into my house?"

"An intact male cat is called a 'Tom' Dad." Karin called over her shoulder.

"Alright Kon, a few rules- No more swearing in front of the kids, no bringing ladies around the house and for goodness sake DON'T TELL ANYONE YOU'RE HERE!" Isshin snarled at him.

"Alright, alright!" Kon sighed, rolling his eyes. "Out of curiosity though- What rank was your guy Kaien?"

"Hm?" Isshin asked.

"Only that I thought only the captains and a few lieutenants ever knew about project Spearhead." Kon glanced at Isshin, arching an orange-striped brow at him. "-funny thing, having a seated officer doing routine patrols, isn't it?"

"I dunno?" Shrugged Isshin, trying to keep his shoulders from tensing up, "-He didn't actually tell me all that much about how the soul society is governed."

"Huh." Kon nodded, smirking just a bit. "Interestin' guy, this Kaien. You should tell me about him sometime!"

"KOOOOONN!" Yuzu called. "My Dollie's shoe got under the fridge!"

"Coming Sweetie!" Kon called, jumping off Isshin's shoulder to reach his skinny little cat arm under the fridge and swat the missing accessory out from under the appliance. Yuzu applauded with delight and hugged him, laughing for the first time in ages.

Isshin watched them play for a bit and sighed. He not a bad guy, this Kon. All the same- Isshin took out his phone and dialed a number.

"~Urahara Shoten, home of Karkura Town's finest Candies, Cell Phones and Card Games! I'm on sabbatical 'til the end of the month or so, so if it's an emergency, hang up and call the Kurosaki Clinic! Or die! If it's not an emergency, leave me a message with what you need and I'll hook you up when I get back! Bye!~" Urahara's voicemail recording sing-sang over the line.

"Kisuke. It's me, Isshin. You will not fucking believe what my kids found in the new house. Call me as soon as you get back."

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #Bleach #Bleach fanfic #Isshin Kurosaki #Ichigo Kurosaki #Kisuke Urahara #Kon

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witchofthesouls · 4 months

Note

Hey! I saw an earlier post you had about the boys in the grocery store and it got me wondering about how they would react to hunting. I’m a hunter, have been all my life. I hunt deer, boars, ducks, coyotes, turkeys, quails, pheasants, wild Burmese pythons, and I fish locally too (strictly a vermin exterminator and food hunter, I find sports hunting to be distasteful and I strictly use a bow and arrow, no traps or guns as I take issues with those too). I can picture the absolute horror of the TFP or Lost Light bots seeing their/a human skinning and processing an animal that they just hunted for food, they see the modern convinces that are grocery stores so it’s easy to forget where human food actually comes from 😂

Weirdly enough, IDW/MTMTE does have Cybertronian edibles like cesium salami and rust sticks.

But then again, there's a big percentage of the crew members who were produced by the war, so there's a great chance that they didn't get a crash course on things that were deemed "unnecessary," like Cybertronian cuisine and fauna to forage and hunt.

TFP Cybertronians, on the other hand, have Questions.

Get ready to pull up diagrams, manuals, videos, and live demonstrations via YouTube or your own hands because they got the curiosity of two-year-old with the capacity to keep you in their palm for no escape.

Ratchet absolutely hates it. It's too messy and squishy and completely unalike the organized and relatively clean method of converting crystals to fuel. Horrified over the mysteries of hotdogs and how everything can and will kill humans without specific preparations to negate the toxins. Ratchet is boggled over spice challenges and how the hell humanity hadn't died in its infancy over culinary explorations. Someone told him to look up Hákarl.

He takes great displeasure when the kids sass him over Cybertronians eating their own blood. Different. Absolutely different. He clucks over the base kitchen and is not above making things disappear. He argues with June and Agent Fowler over the groceries and fast food bags. Ratchet's crunchy.

Bulkhead actually enjoys fishing. He's more catch and release rather than for keeping and gutting. He likes soaking up the heat of the sun, the sound of running water, birdsong, and insects buzzing, the gear setup and picking out the right lure and bait. It's a different kind of downtime, but it's nice. All he's missing is engex, but he's able to throw a line farther out than anyone else and has the capability to detect motion far greater than an average human. He still wants an engex cube.

Arcee has mixed feelings. She enjoys hunting. Patience, tracking, stealth, and the sense of accomplishment with a clean catch. She likes less the process of handling carcasses, but really hates waste anything that could have been useful. Meat, leather, tools, jewelry, and raw ingredients that could be sold or traded. Arcee just doesn't like sharing something with Airachnid's methods.

Bumblebee's a scout. People expected him to like foraging or the wilds. He prefers domesticated stock. In particular, beekeeping. To him, it represents a more equivalent partnership: he provides accessible resources and safe quarters and the bees yield honey, comb, and wax in return. If the hive don't like him or the area, then they can leave elsewhere.

Optimus is deeply fascinated by how Earth's biodiversity is so immense and how ecosystems are so diverse and complex, yet so fragile. He quietly wishes for Alpha Trion's presence because Optimus is seeing familiar similarities of Cybertronian long gone biomes: wetlands, woodlands, and reefs. The Sea of Rust once was a massive ocean of mineral-laden Energon. It has long since disappeared by the consensus of heavy, unregulated industrialization, but if Earth has the water cycle, ocean currents and belts, and complex system of thermoregulation that replenishes itself, then Cybertron had to have something similar at one point, no?

#ask #transformers #transformer prime #tfp #optimus #optimus prime #ratchet #bulkhead #arcee #bumblebee #culture clash #cybertronian culture #maccadam #my writing #look Ratchet is completely scandalized and crunchy #Optimus would watch too many nature docs and try to fish exactly like a bear #the autobots get fascinated by cooking shows tho

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discount-shades · 1 year

Text

Sleepy Baby Part 17

a/n: Only one part left! I’m excited and sad.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin / Reader

Warnings: None,

Word Count: 2100 ish

Summary: Bachelor / Bachelorette party shenanigans

Previous Masterlist Next

It’s Saturday morning and everyone is gathered for breakfast at the restaurant Grace had booked, the Dagger squad is there, as are Jake's sisters and their partners. A few of the friends you have made hiking have also joined the bachelor/bachelorette kickoff breakfast. The plan was to split up and meet back together for dinner Sunday evening.

“Cheers, everyone,” Grace says as everyone raises their glasses to toast. “I hope everyone has fun today. Don’t do anything that can’t be undone.”

“So what are you guys doing?” Jessie asks Jake. “Because if there will be strippers I would prefer joining your group.”

Jake’s ears turn red and he sputters, “I’m…I’m not going to watch strippers with my baby sister.”

“Oh so there will be strippers?” Julia asks, and you catch her shooting a grin at Jessie. “I don’t think that is appropriate Jacob.”

“What would Granny Seresin say?” Jessie demands in a scandalized voice.

“You wanted to join us! And I don’t know if there are strippers!” Jake says in indignation. “Rooster planned it!”

Julia turned a withering glare to Bradley. “Well?” She demands and he quails under her gaze.

“We’re going deep sea fishing!”

“Oh, ok.” She immediately returns to her food like nothing happened, leaving Bradley scared that he had done something wrong. You hide your grin at the exchange, already used to Jake’s family.

“Well I’m out,” Natasha says in disappointment. “I get seasick.” She had originally planned on joining Jake's group, being closer to him than she was to you.

“Phoenix I’ve seen you on an Aircraft Carrier.” Bradley huffs. “You didn’t look seasick to me.”

She rolls her eyes, “that’s a big boat Bradshaw. I only get sick on little ones.”

“You can always join us,” you offer, “we’re going paddleboarding, it should be less wavy.” One of your group had canceled last minute so there was an open spot for your weekend. Natasha looks at you for a minute before agreeing.

After breakfast you are standing with your arms around Jake’s neck, kissing him goodbye. “Are you gonna miss me?” His dimples are on full display as he smiles down at you.

You hum in response and lean up on your toes to give him another kiss. “I can't miss you until you're gone.”

Jake’s hands slip under your shirt, thumbs slowly moving over your soft skin. “That’s true love right there.” You giggle and kiss him again.

“Hangman!” Bradley shouts. “Let’s go!”

Jake goes to pull away and you pull him in for one final kiss. “Be safe,” you tell him, “wear a life jacket.” He salutes you as he goes to join his friends.

– – –

You paddle over to where Natasha is seated on her board taking a break. You have been at it for an hour and feel pretty secure on the board while moving but you wobble a little as you sit down on your board beside her.

You could never get a read on how Natasha felt about you. She was always friendly but never went out of her way to befriend you like Bob did. “I’m glad you came.” You tell her as you dangle your feet in the water on either side of your board.

She smiles at you from behind her aviators. “Me too.” You close your eyes behind your own sunglasses and turn toward the sun. “Jaws!” Natasha calls out as your paddleboard lurches to one side. You gasp, jerking your feet out of the water and clutching the sides of your board. Eyes frantically scanning the water around you, heart pounding.

Her snort of laughter has you glaring. “I can’t believe you did that!” You tell her before breaking into your own giggles. “I thought we were going to die.” She uses her paddle to give you another little push.

She sighs beside you. “It’s good being around women.” She says as she lays back on her board. “I’m around those men all day long and today was nice.”

“I bet,” you agree.

“I’ve worked so hard to get where I am. To be counted as an equal.”

“Jake doesn’t treat you like an equal?” You say frowning. “At home he says you are one of the best pilots he knows.”

You can tell she is rolling her eyes by the way her head moves. “Hangman doesn’t treat anyone like an equal. But he is way better than he was,” she amends.

“This has been the first team I’ve been on where I feel like I don’t have to constantly prove myself.” She waves her hands at the other paddle boarders in your group. “I don’t usually hang out with the wives and girlfriends of the group. It makes it harder to be seen as a fellow pilot.”

“That must be a little lonely.” You lay back beside her on your board. “I mean, Jake is the love of my life, and all of the team have been great but that is a lot of testosterone in one place.”

She snorts with laughter. “You have no idea.”

“You are welcome to join us when we go hiking.” You say, offering friendship.

“You know, I might do that.”

– – –

After paddle boarding you had gone to a wine and paint afternoon. “Wine is not good for me.” you say as you finish your forth glass of wine gazing at the slightly wonky tree in your painting. The paintings are all lined up back at the beach house you had rented for the weekend.

“What are you talking about,” Julie said as she put on her high heeled shoes. Everyone was putting the finishing touches on their outfits before you went out to dinner and then dancing.

“It makes me all mopey.” You say with a long sigh. Smoothing down the hem of your short red dress. “And a little sleepy.”

Grace plucks the empty glass out of your hands. “Lady, you have a smoking hot fiance who is embarrassingly in love with you.” She squeezes your hands. “What do you have to be mopey about?”

“I miss Jake.” Julie blows a raspberry at your response. “Are they back safe yet?” Grace walks over to check her phone. One of the rules of the night was that neither you nor Jake could text each other. Grace had even taken your phone from you.

“Yes, Bradley says they made it back.” You make a grabby motion and she walks over to let you read the text.

“Yay,” you smile dreamily, “ok let's go eat.”

– – –

“Why can’t we go to that bar?” You point to the bar across the street. You had been sticking to whiskey for the rest of the evening and had lost the mopey feeling wine gave you but were unable to completely shake off the sleepy feeling. If you were dancing it was fine, the minute you sat you felt like you could nap. The cool night air was refreshing.

“Because,” Grace breaks into giggles as she helps catch Kate, and between her and Jessie, they pull her back to her feet. “That’s the boys bar for the night. Bradley and I divided up the bars so we wouldn't meet.” You make a soft noise of understanding, unable to help feeling disappointed. You had been scanning every bar for Jake all night hoping to see him.

“I thought Javy was Jake’s best man. Bradley sure did a lot of planning.” You say looking around at the other people out tonight.

“Javy delegated.” Grace laughs. “Plus Bradley grew up here. It was easy for him and I to plan together.”

You all pause on the sidewalk. Letting Kate get her feet under her. You gaze over at the bar across the street. The door opens and a number of people spill out. One of them is Jake and you feel your heartbeat catch.

– – –

“Where’s Hangman?” Javy walks over to the group with Mike, carrying the next round. They had switched bars a little while ago and he couldn’t see the groom.

“Bathroom probably.” Rooster says, grabbing his beer and leaning back. They carry on talking for another few minutes before Javy starts to feel uneasy.

“Did he come in with us?” Everyone around him shrugs.

“He must have.” Bob says, “I remember him following me out as we left the last place.”

Rooster laughs, “The last I saw him he was talking to a couple of coeds.” Mike chokes on his beer and coughs.

“He was what?” He sputters.

“Relax,” Rooster says casually as Mike shakes his head in horror. “It’s Hangman, he’s fine, he spent over two months turning down women after he spoke to her for a half hour. He won’t do anything.”

“No, Jules told me to keep an eye on him, that he is a really susceptible drunk and will agree to anything.” Mike's voice rises in panic as he speaks, pulling out his phone to text Jake. Rooster’s pocket chimes. And he holds Jake's phone up guiltily.

“I didn’t want him texting her.” Javy groans and clutches his temples. You would kill him if he let something happen to Jake.

Javy stands up taking charge. “Everyone fan out, check this entire bar, text if you find him and meet back here in five.”

“I couldn’t find him,” Fanboy says five minutes later when they all meet back, everyone else shakes their heads when he looks at them.

“Fucking Hangman,” Javy mutters under his breath as they rush to the previous bar. When they get there the bouncer won’t let them in.

“We are just looking for our friend.” Rooster begs, pulling out his wallet. “I’ll give you $200 if you let us in.” The bouncer takes the money and goes to motion them through when Rooster shouts, “that's them!” pointing at two women exiting the bar. He goes to ask for his money back but at the bouncers look, reconsiders

They all turn and run toward the women who shrink back in fear. Javy grabs the back of Rooster's shirt, slowing him, and a few others who are still sober, and self aware enough, do the same.

Bob steps forward, hands out in a placating manner. “I am sorry we frightened you,” he says calmly, “but we are looking for our friend.” He holds his phone out with a picture of Jake. “You spoke to him earlier and now we can’t find him.”

The women step away from the door and one takes Bob’s phone. “Oh I remember him,” she says giggling while showing the picture to her friend. “He bought us drinks and spent the whole time talking about his fiance and how excited he was to marry her.” She hands the phone back. “It was cute.”

“Do you know where he is?” Javy asks in desperation. “Is he still inside?”

They shake their heads. “I don’t know, we haven't seen him in a while, I hope you find him.” Rooster groans in frustration, running his hands through his hair.

“Hey boys!” Rooster freezes. He knows that voice. Looking across the street he can see the bachelorette half of their party waving. Grace is grinning at them. “Did you lose something?”

– – –

45 minutes earlier

Jake is the last to leave the bar, but when he goes to follow his friends down the street you catch his eye. You are standing across the street in a little red dress that does something to his imagination. He glances at his friends' retreating backs before he makes up his mind and crosses the street to you.

Your smile widens as he starts heading your way and he knows he made the right decision, his smile matching yours. “Hello Kisses,” he says sweeping you into a hug. You throw your arms around his neck and pull his lips to yours. He can taste the whiskey sours you have been sipping all night. “I missed you,” he murmurs before pulling you back in for a kiss. His hand stroking the skin of your lower back. When Jessie clears her throat loudly you pull your lips away and lean against him with a sleepy smile.

“Take me home Jake,” you mumble into his shirt, he can feel your breath against his neck.

“Umm,” he says suddenly feeling awkward. “I think we are going to call it a night.” Grace just rolls her eyes and laughs.

“I expect you to drop her off at the beach house tomorrow at 10:30.” Jake nods in agreement and she hands you your phone back and you stick it in Jake's pocket.

“Oh shit,” Jake says, “Rooster has my phone.”

“Don’t worry,” Grace says, “I’ll let him know where you’ve gone.” Jake guides you into one of the cabs and you head home.

– – –

“How long do you think it will take the guys to notice they lost Hangman?” Natasha asks with a forced innocent tone. Everyone laughs and settles in to wait.

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin/reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman #hangman/reader #top gun hangman #topgun hangman #topgun maverick #top gun fanfiction

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vodika-vibes · 4 months

Text

A Little Miracle

Summary: After the Republic is reformed into an Empire, you are stuck working with the same men, under the same Commander, you worked for while in the GAR. Unfortunately, Bacara doesn't seem to remember that he loves you. And it's becoming too hard to handle.

Pairing: Commander Bacara x F!Reader

Word Count: 2079

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So I was looking at all of my requests, and just, none of the characters I had requests for were speaking to me, and smut just wasn't coming out of my brain today for some reason. So have this instead, a project I've been working on for over a week!

“Commander,” You try not to quail under the stern gaze of the man standing in front of you, “I respectfully disagree. This is a horrible idea, actually.”

The former member of the GAR, and currently Commander of the Imperial Army, pins you with a glare that would have made a lesser person run away screaming. And honestly, the only reason you aren’t running is because you’re right and you know it.

“You have a better idea, Corporal?” Commander Bacara asks, his voice low and gravely, and you can’t help but wonder when the last time he spoke was.

“I do, sir.” You say, “Sir, it’s Life Day.”

His gaze is cold, “And why should I care about a natborn holiday?”

“Because, sir, it means that no one will pay attention to a small group of people sneaking onto the planet.” You say, “And…and, sir, it’s everyone’s holiday, not just a natborn one.”

Some of the ice thaws from Bacara’s gaze, though it quickly returns, “And what’s your suggestion?”

“Send me and one other person.” You say quickly, “We get in, meet the contact, and get out without starting an incident.”

He pins you in place with a severe look, “I suppose that might be a good idea,” He says grudgingly, “Do you have a suggestion as to which of my brothers you go with?” There’s something acidic in Bacara’s voice, and you flounder slightly, because you’re not sure what you did to earn his ire this time.

“I…my understanding is that you would choose the best man for the job.” You offer, hesitantly.

His scowl deepens, “I assume that you’re not going to go wearing armor?”

“No, of course not, sir! I’ll be wearing regular clothes.”

Bacara stares at you, hard, for a moment. And then he nods, “Wait in the hanger, I’ll have someone meet you.”

“Yes sir.” You salute and then turn and hurry out of the room. Hopefully it’ll be someone you can actually work with.

Once upon you were a soldier in the GAR. Once upon a time you were tasked with protecting the Republic.

That felt like almost a lifetime ago.

And while you’re not happy with the Empire, you didn’t sign up for this, you’re stuck. You can no more leave the Imperial Army than you can keep the sun from rising.

At least you still work with Bacara. Well. Under Bacara.

But he’s not the same man he was before the Empire took over. He’s colder, and he looks at you like he doesn’t recognize you.

You miss the man he used to be. The man who would tug you into his quarters and steal your breath with deep kisses. The man who would murmur jokes in your ear when no one is paying attention.

The man who would hum your favorite song to settle you when things were too much to handle.

You missed the man you fell in love with.

And you’re beginning to fear that you’re never going to see him again.

You slip into your quarters, somehow you don’t have to share with anyone, and you pull the pretty dress your mother sent you out of the closet. It looks out of place, mixed with the stark white of your military uniform, but you’re glad you have it.

You hurriedly pull the dress on, as well as some tights and your heels, and you pull your hair out of your regulation bun, allowing your hair to tumble around your shoulders, and then you hurry to the hanger.

The halls are empty…as is the hanger.

It’s nice, if not a little eerie.

If you close your eyes you can almost hear General Mundi walking over to you to discuss a novel that he read recently, or you can hear the shinies joking about which one of them was going to be the first one to get your number.

You release a shaky breath, ignoring the ache in your chest with the ease of long practice when you hear footsteps behind you.

And you start in surprise when you see Bacara standing there in civilian clothes. He pauses when he sees you, and you mentally prepare yourself for the insult that is inevitably coming your way.

But instead he winces and touches the side of his head, “You look…nice.”

You blink at him, “Thank you, Commander. So do you.” He looks more like Bacara than he has since Master Mundi’s death. “Um…are you ready to go?”

“You can’t call me Commander if we’re going undercover.” He says flatly.

You wince, “Yes. I know.” Except the last time you called him by his name, he verbally tore you a new one, and you’re still reeling from the hurt of that. “Bacara, then.”

He nods once, slowly, and motions for you to take the lead. Which you do, without much of a second though.

True to your predictions, there are a lot of people out and about. But no one is giving either of you a second look.

Bacara’s hand is warm on the small of your back, the heat sending jolts of electricity up your spine. It’s been ages since you’ve been this close to him. But it became necessary after a group of tourists pushed themselves between you and Bacara.

“There are more people than I would like,” Bacara grumbles in your ear.

“Relax,” You reply, “They’re just existing, no one is even giving us a second look.”

His hand slides to your hip when another group of tourists threatens to push between you, and it sits there comfortably, as though that’s where it belongs. “I know. The contact is at this party, right?”

“That’s what the intel says.” You agree.

“Great. Come on, the party is this way.” Bacara guides you through the crowded street, until you reach the open air party that this planet is known for. It’s loud and thrumming with an excited energy that you don’t think you can match…not this year at least.

Once upon a time you would have loved being here with Bacara. You would have tugged him onto the dance floor and spun around with him until he was flashing that secretive little smile at you, and you were giggling and breathless-

But that Bacara doesn’t exist anymore.

You tear your gaze off of a young woman and her beau, feeling your heart break as you watch them spin around on the dance floor, lost in each other. You swallow the bitterness and the tears, and you cast your gaze up to the taller man standing at your shoulder, “Do you see our contact?”

Bacara slowly tears his gaze away from the dance floor as well, and he looks down at you, “No. Not yet. We might be early.”

“Ah, well…it looks like there’s a snack bar. Would you like something to drink?” You ask, “Or eat?”

“Something to eat would be nice.” He says after a moment, “I’m going to go over by the side entrance. You can find me there.”

“Right. I won’t be long.” You smile at him weakly, before you turn and head towards the table. You’re able to feel his gaze on you, and when you turn to look back at him, to see why he’s staring at you, you see that he’s rubbing his temple again.

You bite your lower lip, concerned, but turn back to the table. Luckily, no one seems too keen to bother you as you grab two wine glasses and some sandwiches.

And then you walk around the outside of the party to get back to Bacara, who is still rubbing his head. “Com-um…Bacara,” You say slowly, setting the drinks and food on a nearby table, “Are you alright?”

He glances at you, “Just a headache. I’m fine.” He grabs a glass and takes a sip, “Have you seen our contact?”

You watch him for a moment, “No. No, I haven’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Just keep your eyes open.”

You settle on the stool at the table, absently shredding your sandwich as you keep your eyes on the dancefloor. The longer you watch the couples dance, the worse you feel, until you can feel the tear pricking at the corner of your eyes.

“If you want to go dance, I’m not going to stop you.” Bacara’s voice is flat.

“I’m fine.”

“You look like you’re about to cry.”

You press your lips into a thin line, “This just…isn’t how I foresaw my life going.”

“We’re lucky to have the positions we have,” Bacara’s voice is low and chiding.

You lift your chin, “Yes sir.” And then you hesitate and you turn to look at him, “You don’t…you don’t remember me at all, do you?”

Bacara stares at you silently for a moment, “Is there something to remember, corporal?”

You flinch as if he had just struck you…and honestly, his punching you likely would have hurt less, and you quickly look away, “No. I guess not.” You slide to your feet, “Excuse me.” You slip away before he can say anything. You don’t want to hear anything that he has to say.

You wander around the party, taking in the decorations and the ice sculptures, and, before you realize it, you’re standing outside the party, looking out at the crowds of people.

It would be easy, you realize suddenly. You’re dressed just like most of the other women out there. No uniform. Nothing marking you as a soldier at all.

It would be easy for you to vanish into the crowd.

You take a step towards the crowd, when a strong hand wraps around your wrist. You whip around to look up at Bacara. He looks…conflicted. And slowly, very slowly, he releases your wrist, and it falls to your side.

“I won’t stop you, if you want to leave.” He says, “You’re not made for military life-”

“...right.” You whisper. “You could come with me.” You offer.

“I am a good soldier-”

You squeeze your eyes shut, and then you spin on your heel so you’re facing him, and you reach up to press your hands against his cheeks, “You don’t remember me, Bacara!”

“I don’t-”

“You once promised to take me dancing,” You say, and this time you don’t stop the tears from falling, “Properly dancing, you said, not the secret dancing in your quarters late at night, after General Mundi went to sleep and we’re both two sheets passed tired, but we’re together so we dance.”

His hand comes up to brush a tear off your cheek, and it only makes you cry harder.

“You used to love me, Bacara, and I don’t know what the Empire did to you to make you forget, but I can’t do it anymore.”

Bacara’s other hand comes up to cradle your cheek, and slowly his forehead lowers to bump against yours, “...Corporal-”

“You used to call me cyare,” You whisper, “You used to tug me into empty rooms just to steal kisses and would whisper jokes in my ear to make me laugh after hard missions and would hum my favorite song when you thought I needed a pick-me-up…”

His grip tightens slightly, and for a moment his face twists in pain.

“If you can’t give me that again, if you can’t be that man anymore, then please, let me go.” You beg, “I deserve more than this.”

Bacara says nothing for a moment, his eyes squeezed shut and his face twisted in pain, and then, after a whole minute, his eyes open.

His grip softens, and Bacara slowly strokes your cheek, “My cyare,” He whispers, pain and guilt and horror in his voice, “My beautiful, perfect cyare.”

You look up at him, and there’s recognition in his eyes. Recognition and more than a little guilt.

“Cara?” You whisper.

He smiles at you, and wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb before he leans in and presses the sweetest kiss against your lips, “I did something awful, cyare.” Bacara whispers.

“We can run. No one will ever make you do something against your will like that again. I promise.” You say.

Bacara stares at you, and slowly he nods. Quickly he shoves his comm, and yours, into a dumpster, and then he leads you into the Life Day crowds.

Within days, both of your faces are going to be plastered from one side of the Empire to the other, listed as deserters, but at least you’ll be together if nothing else.

#star wars #tcw #commander bacara x reader #bacara x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction

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feral-ffa · 1 year

Text

Ever wondered how those instagram foodie account girls stay skinny even though they're eating 5 items from a different trendy restaurant every day?

You had idly wondered that, but most of all you just couldn't believe your luck when you finally sealed the deal with a cute and sweet rising star foodie.

The first time the two of you went out for a content shooting dinner, it was to a nice fusion sit down place. She told you she'd mostly just talk to her tripod. All you had to do was get some close up shots of crispy crusts and cheese pulls and then just not eat till she had all the footage she needed. Easy trade off for a free dinner with a beautiful girl!

When the waiter came around, she rattled off an order of two house cocktails, two apps, and three entrees, before turning to you and asking you to pick your favorite entree too. You obliged, ordering pineapple fried rice.

When the food came out, she started taking pictures and recording, and she was still working on the appetizers when the 4 big entrees came to the table. You did your best suppressing your hunger and helping her get the perfect shot of her sampling each dish. When she was done and told you to dig in, you both started devouring the still-warm food. But you had to state the obvious. "There's no way we can finish all this."

She waved you off. "We'll take the rest in to-go boxes. Not like it's going to waste."

Still, it seemed like a shame to not have the food hot and fresh out of the kitchen. She got full shortly, but you plugged on, finishing the entirety of the lettuce wraps and spring roll appetizers, both desserts she ordered, and the sweet and saucy pork adobo. It felt like you barely put a dent in the other dishes, so you got to go boxes.

As full as you felt leaving, the siren call of leftovers lured you to the fridge twice more that night.

~~~~~~~

And so it went, your girlfriend taking you to snack joints and restaurants to help film, and you doing your best to clean the plates after. You never truly could though, always bested by her choice of rich cuisines or gimmicky posts ranking every kind of cronut or rice dog a place offered.

Until you all went to a fancy prix fixe place she had fought to get reservations for. You each got five modest portions of perfectly cooked food and you cleaned yours up no problem. She had started to get winded by the meat course and only had half of her dessert.

"Finally a member of the clean plate club, huh?" she teased as she snapped a picture of the receipt.

"Well they give you those small fancy portions," you protested. "Two bites of quail. Two bites of steak. Three raviolis. Tastes good though."

She just laughed and gave you an affectionate pat on the tummy.

~~~~~~~

You did find yourself having to size up your clothes as the seasons changed, but again, you considered it a reasonable tradeoff for the pampered life you were now living.

"I hope you're ready for this," your girlfriend chided you on the way to the state fair in the summer. She was partnering with them for a series of 'everything I ate at the state fair' videos, which of course was actually going to be everything you ate.

You faithfully videoed her taking the first bite of what felt like a million little snacks, making sure to capture her reaction. Wide eyes at the cheese pull from a mozzarella stick, unimpressed at a dry turkey leg, laughing as she got a good angle to chomp down on tornado fries, smiling in pleasure at cherry topped funnel cake.

Soon as she was satisfied with the footage, she would pass the greasy treat off to you and drag you to the next line. You lost count of all the fair food you hurriedly plowed through that day, the hand dipped corn dogs, berry shortcakes, bbq sandwiches, and fried oreos.

The shoot ended with you finishing off a huge fresh squeezed cold lemonade she had taken one (1) sip of. It was the only thing you had room for, and you felt it filling in the gaps in your already food-stuffed gut. You waddled after her to the petting zoo, where she wanted to treat herself to some baby animal cuddles as a reward for getting all the footage and b-roll she needed before sundown.

Before you sat on the bench outside for a breather, you noticed your stuffed belly peeking out of your shirt. Sure you just ate nearly everything the fair had to offer, but this was a new XXL shirt! You glanced at her inside the pen, scratching a piglet behind the ears.

"The pigs are my favorite."

"Yeah, I bet."

~~~~~~~

You went ahead and bought new shirts and pants again. As time passed you got better at eating as much of your girlfriend's orders as possible in one sitting. You especially looked forward to when she did collab videos with her friends. They'd reserve a long table and it would be laden with over a dozen meals. You got to try everything, eat as much as you wanted of your favorites, and there would still be leftovers.

One night before going out to film at a sushi restaurant, she warned you, "this is a hand roll place and i booked us the omakase menu, it's $250 for 6 small bites."

You helped her get pics and enjoyed the delicious savory raw seafood, but she caught the downcast look on your face and the hand on your belly after you left.

"Don't tell me you're still hungry?"

"You aren't?"

"No, I actually finished every course. Even the miso soup."

"Well I'm used to cleaning up after you don't finish every course!" You wrapped your arms around her, and pulled her in close to whisper in her ear. "You always pick where we go, can I choose somewhere just this once?"

"Let me guess," she said as she leaned into your soft belly. "You want to stop at mcdonalds?"

So the two of you stopped at the drive thru, chatting and laughing in the car as you worked your way through a big bag of burgers and fries.

~~~~~~~

You continued to feel grateful for this lifestyle, but you were especially excited when your girlfriend told you she booked a reservation at Pina's Table, a new Italian restaurant that was already getting lots of buzz on the socials.

When you arrived for your reservation, both in nicer clothes for the opening weekend, you were shown to a intimate booth near the back. You felt a little nervous sliding in, as you could just barely fit. But before long you were more focused on the menu. After she ordered her usual sampler spread of two apps, two cocktails and three entrees, the waiter turned to you for your selection, and you decided to be bolder today.

"How about the chicken marsala. And the baked ziti."

Both of your selections looked so good when they arrived, you could barely stop drooling while filming her slicing open a burrata and tasting the spaghetti all'amatriciana. It felt like a million years passed before she gave you the OK to dig in.

You started off sampling a little bit of everything, and it was of course just as good as expected. You were enjoying a mouthful of ziti when the flash from her phone went off. Startled, you looked up. Had she forgotten to get a picture of something?

"Sorry," she blushed, putting her phone back down. "You're enjoying yourself so much, I just wanted to save it to remember."

You laughed. "If that's good, just wait till after I'm done."

You dug into the warm food, savoring the light burrata and tomato salad and the heavier mushroom ravioli and amatriciana. You ate with relish for what seemed like ages until you started to feel the table pushing into your swollen stomach.

Exhausted, you leaned back, against the soft booth, your fullness finally catching up to you. You subtly opened the top button of your pants, letting your belly flow out to bump the table again. There was still so much of each entree left....

You were spared from the eternal dilemma by the chef, a young and energetic guy, coming to the table to drop off a sampling of cannoli and gelato. Your girlfriend jumped up excitedly to shake his hand and take selfies, and passed the phone to you to you could take a couple pictures of them... after you struggled to haul yourself to your feet.

"Thank you so much for helping get the word out," she chef thanked her profusely. "Pina's Table is my baby. I'm thrilled how many people turned out for it."

"Thank you so much for inviting us!" Your girlfriend chirped in reply. "Everything was delicious."

"I'm thrilled you enjoyed it! It's a labor of love." The chef clapped her on the shoulder before turning to you. "And of course your seal approval means just as much too! Seems like you enjoyed, huh?" He gave your belly a playful poke.

"I wouldn't be where I am now without the belly behind the account," your girlfriend agreed, reaching over to give your tummy another squeeze, jostling out a small burp.

The pair of them shared another laugh and selfie before the chef left to go gladhand some other tables.

"Should we get the to-go boxes?" she asked, patting you gently on the butt as you squeezed yourself back into the booth.

"I think I have a little room left."

You pulled the plate of ravioli in front of you and started working on it again as she took a short video of the desserts.

'The belly behind the account,' huh? You could get used to that.

#soft feedism #weight gain #wg fiction #female feeder #feedee pov #gender-neutral feedee #which is not how i intended this but #i was scrolling foodie IG trying to go back to sleep in the middle of the night and when i couldn't i just got up and wrote this in one sho #without putting any consideration into pov or how long it wound up being #feral rantings #anyway hope u enjoy

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hometoursandotherstuff · 9 months

Text

Incredible party pad estate in Las Vegas, Nevada. Built in 1981, it has 10bds, 6ba, & is priced at $7.750M.

Attractive black & gold in the entrance hall. I think that this home was remodled b/c the house I had was built in the 80s and it was dated.

Wow, a soaring fireplace with the balcony above. I like the angles- it's not straight ahead.

Lots of architectural detail. Plus there's a balcony above, columns, and a sweeping staircase.

Look at this bar. It even has a commercial ice machine. This is a serious entertaining space.

The striking black & white kitchen has splashes of color in the stained glass, plus a large casual dining area.

Off the kitchen is a large family room.

They gave the stair area a lot of drama.

Balcony overlooking the first floor. This is nice- a place to relax and talk.

The primary bedroom is huge. There's a fireplace, a feature wall, and a big modern built-in bed with a mirror in the ceiling. I don't care for the bed that much, it looks like a giant magnification tool.

I don't love that the en-suite bath is actually in the suite.

The other bedrooms are all very large.

Some of the other bedrooms have stained glass windows.

A couple of the bedrooms are in the basement, and this one creates an illusion of openness with mirrored walls.

A rec room with another bar is on the ground level.

The courtyard features a luncheonette style counter.

The counter from the other side is like an outdoor kitchen.

The grounds are incredible. The pool goes under a bridge.

The pool looks like it goes all around the property.

A raised pavilion in the middle of the pool. Looks like you can swim to it and go inside, too.

Guesthouse beside the pool.

Covered firepit area.

Here's a putting green.

And, there's also a sauna. The home is on 1.13 acres.

https://www.movoto.com/las-vegas-nv/2818-e-quail-ave-las-vegas-nv-89120/pid_mxoweg8aih/

#modern mansions #modern architecture #houses #house tours #home tour

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captainmera · 7 months

Note

I want to ask what Oliver thinks of the following bloods:

Cow blood, Bird blood (like doves or quail), deer blood, and lamb blood

Also, does he like blood sausages then?

details below! :) [read IBWR here!]

ANIMALS:

Cow: Expensive, but can taste really nice if the cow was healthy. But you seldom get blood from just one cow, it's a mixed liquid.

Bird: Oliver likes chicken blood most out of all birds he's had - which is.. not a lot. Most chickens in London were fed seeds lumped with butter. So their blood leaves the same feeling in the roof of his mouth as butter sauce does. - Doves he'd feel weird about as it's probably somebody's pet.... Not that he haven't tried it or anything. He just feels bad about it.

Deer: Never had it.

Horse: Has had it. It tastes terrible. He'd only drink horse blood if it was absolutely necessary. But that might just be an Oliver thing and not an every-vampire-thing.

Pig: Just as good as human, he'll pick it over any of the other. Some butchers are aware of this, though, and depending on the butcher, they'll either keep the pig blood the same for everyone, or add a bit to the price.

Lamb: Oliver actually really like lamb blood. But he feels a bit religiously torn about that. Paul told him it was fine and Darcy told him it wasn't. So Oliver kind of flip flops on whatever it's okay for him to drink it or not. He has asked his pastor about it and he gave the thumbs up in a pinch.

Rats: He's had rat blood before, it's about as bad as horse.

Dogs/Cats: He had dog, once. Never again. Never had cat, wont try cat. He still feels bad about the dog, even if it couldn't really be helped.

Fish: Light, tastes so clean it might as well be water. It's not potent at all and really difficult to measure how much of it is needed, probably a bucket full of fish gut to have the same potency as a soup-spoon of human blood. It's honestly barely worth measuring. It's the only blood vampires feel safe accidentally consuming because it's just so pointless. (which is Lucky for Oliver, as his best bud is a selkie who eats fish all the time and likes sharing fish with him)

BLOOD IN FOOD:

Blood in food is complicated for vampires in general.

If they make it themselves, fine! Then they know how much is in it, they get to measure it themselves and can be precise about the amount, and eat it in a timely manner so that they have consumed what they need in the time they need it.

Blood pudding, for one, is Oliver's favourite go-to when the blood is about to go bad. Then he can keep it shelfed a little longer.

There's also sealing blood in bottles. Basically you put the blood in the bottle or jar with a bit of lemon juice squeezed into it. Then you boil the bottle/jar with a lid on and then you can keep it in the cupboard for basically years and you've conserved the content - though, do check it regularly so the lid isn't popped or something. If you didn't screw it tightly then it's all work for nothing (you can do this with soup and any food too btw.)

Given you have access to lemon, that is. Or didn't fuck up the process somewhere.

WHEN GIVEN FOOD is where it gets complicated.

Someone might have thought it would be a welcoming gesture to serve blood sausages or meat with blood-wine sauce.

This often leads to awkward situations as the vampire will have to abstain from eating, then. As they cannot risk going over their consumption limit. They don't know how much blood is in each serving after all and may not be prepared (or able) to do the math on the spot.

Blood, basically, is something they need to keep track on regularly, lest it escalate and make their lives harder.

Some people don't understand the measurement thing and will get frustrated "but vampires need blood, right? I got out of my way to make something nifty for you. Im helping." and then there's conflict.

It's just difficult sometimes, to live life with invisible rules that dictate your life and only a handful of people are willing to listen and understand the difficulties of it.

People with allergies, medication, diabetes or other ailments might relate to this particular brand of problems, as sometimes people just don't know better - and sometimes they don't even bother to care a little bit.

Oliver's friends and family does, though. His father keeps blood in his house, just in-case Oliver doesn't have any. His buddy Sebastian tries to keep a perfume bottle of conserved blood on his person, in a pinch.

#ibwr #ibwr ask #in blood we rise #vampires #ibwr vampires #blood #ibwr lore #peculiars lore #oliver

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