Ramblings of an Itinerant Costumer

Taking a break from A Night Like This to plop some words down on my porn-ish sex pollen meets cursed artifact. Basically: my transmasc Rook buys a cursed strap-on from the spirit market in the Crossroads. It is Stuck. I've always wanted to write a sex comedy, what can I say.

Anyway, he goes to Bellara for help first before Emmrich 'helps' him out.

__________

“Oooooh, where did you get that?” She asked with an impish smile, “Can I touch it?”

While Bellara’s record with artifacts was impressively clean, there’d been enough accidental detonations to make Rook wince. There was no telling how it would react to her gauntlet; the last explosion had rained down bits of bronze hundreds of paces in each direction. It’d taken Emmrich hours to remove the shrapnel embedded in her limbs. He lurched forward and shielded his groin with his hands. “I would really prefer it if you didn’t!”

“Ah, good point – sensitive extraction area. But it’s nothing to be ashamed of Rook, I get curious about magical dick-shaped objects all the time! Believe me, there’s a lot out there. Anyway, sometimes you end up tinkering around with one that might kill you –I haven’t – but you know, other people who aren’t so lucky.” “What?”

Before he could perceive what was happening, Bellara had fished out her field notebook to scribble down observations. “So are you feeling any crushing sensations right now, or burning?”

“It… I…”

She looked up from her notebook, almost disappointed. “No? What about freezing?”

“Freezing?”

“Just trying to be thorough! My diagnostic methods are going to run a tiny bit imprecise if you’re not going to let me touch it.” Her mouth twisted into a little pout. “Are you sure I can’t touch it?”

“Please don’t.”

“Oh, I know! I’ll go get the Professor! He’ll have some ideas!”

Part 3: An Intense Gaze Between Intense Gays

A voice warbled over the din of the club like a soused civil defense siren. “Ohh! Is my scrumptious sweetheart in the leather jacket back?”

Why did the simplest things need to be so bloody difficult?

“Yes! He was just leaving!” Dorian gave the delinquent an elbow before he got any ideas.

Of course, Emmrich saw right through it. With all the come-hither of a saucy coat rack, he crossed his legs and patted the barstool to his right, “Why don’t you come sit next to me, meine Dampfnudelchen? I promise not to bite unless you ask nicely!”

A soppy smile spread across the punk’s rosacea-stippled face. Then with sudden resolve – like an amorous terrier about to scramble under the neighbor’s fence – he gamely tugged at the hem of his jacket and made to dart past.

But Dorian wasn’t having a lick of it.

“Ah-ah-ah!” He tsked, intercepting a deceptively firm bicep. “Not another step towards that legless queen if you know what’s good for you!”

Pride Month's over, but working on A Night Like This continues! I'm working on Chapter 4 while Chapter 3 is getting beta'd and a final polish. But in the meantime, here's the official fic playlist for all of your Goth Nite needs:

Trying to put together a playlist of mostly ambient/instrumental/new age-ish music for writing Mourn Watch-centric fic. Anyone have recs? Here's what I have so far (there used to be a lot more Dead Can Dance, but my appreciation of them has soured lately over Brendan Perry's support of AI):