asscreedkinkmeme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-10-29 11:35 pm
Entry tags:
Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5
Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
Fill Only
Fill Only
Join or Die
✩ Comment anonymously with a character/pairing and a kink/prompt.
✩ Comment is filled by another anonymous with fanfiction/art/or any other appropriate medium.
✩ One request per post, but fill the request as much as you want.
✩ The fill/request doesn't necessarily need to be smut.
✩ Don't flame, if you have nothing good to say, don't say anything.
✩ Have a question? Feel free to PM me.
✩ Last, but not least: HAVE FUN!
List of Kinks
Kink Meme Masterlist
New Kink Meme Masterlist
(Livejorunal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
#2 (Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Fills Only
Discussion
WriterAnon here! Animal Magnetism Part 1/?
(Anonymous) 2012-11-24 05:43 am (UTC)(link)“Finally,” Desmond muttered to himself, practically collapsing onto the bench at the bus stop. Bartending at a shitty, hole-in-the-wall bar in an equally shitty urban area just outside of Manhattan meant keeping terrible hours, if nothing else. Desmond was lucky if he got out of work at five AM on weekends. Today was a Wednesday, though, and surprisingly enough, things at work hadn’t been as bad as they usually were. There had been relatively few patrons at the bar. None of the working men who usually stopped by during the week had tried to chew Desmond’s ear off with a sob story about three ex-wives and a horde of children to pay child support for. No one had spewed vomit all over the floor tonight either, and the one man Desmond had needed to call a cab for had gone without swearing profusely at him.
The bar had emptied out earlier than usual tonight, so Desmond had gotten to leave early for the first time in what felt like forever. He didn’t mind that his bus wasn’t going to show up for another hour, either. In fact, Desmond looked forward to waiting at the bus stop in the wee hours of the morning, when the city buses were few and far between. It meant that he would be able to indulge in his favorite guilty pleasure.
The bartender reached into the front pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a slightly battered Nintendo DS, one of the clunky silver ones that had been among the first made. He switched it on and grinned as the Pokemon logo lit up on the screen. Pokemon had always been Desmond’s favorite video game. He’d been hooked ever since his parents had bought him a Pokemon Red cartridge for Christmas when he was ten. Desmond had, in fact, harbored a secret dream of becoming a Pokemon master for quite a few years now. He’d dreamed of journeying around a fantastic, pseudo-Japanese world winning Gym battles and defeating evil organizations with his dream Pokemon team at his side. It would have been the grandest adventure of all time.
For Desmond, the real world sucked. After graduating from college, it seemed that his friends had all gotten their dream jobs, while he was stuck working as a bartender so that he could pay the rent on his dinky one-room apartment, at least until a better opportunity came along. It was much more fun to hang out in the world of Pokemon, where Desmond was the hero, adored by people and Pokemon alike…
“Well, well, looky here boys.” A male voice, rough and nasty and uncomfortably close by, forced Desmond to look up from his DS. Dark eyes widened in fear as he saw a group of four men standing not two feet away from the bench he was currently sitting on. They were dressed in dark clothing, cigarette smoke ghosting up from their lips. Desmond saw the metallic glint of a switchblade in one man’s hand. All of them appeared to be taller and broader than Desmond was, and they were all looking in his direction with menacing smiles.
The man who’d spoken earlier dropped his cigarette, crushing the faint orange ember beneath his boot. “You lost, kid? Shouldn’t be out here this late at night. There’s bad people on the streets.” There was a round of snickers from the group.
Re: WriterAnon here! Animal Magnetism Part 2/?
(Anonymous) 2012-11-24 05:45 am (UTC)(link)One of the other men let out a harsh bark of laughter. “Hear that, Jimmy? He says he don’t want any trouble!”
The man with the switchblade held his weapon out, letting the faint streetlights catch off of the metal. “We’re the ones calling the shots here, kid. And we say there won’t be no trouble if you hand over your wallet right now.”
Desmond tried not to show the fear he felt prickling down his spine like shards of ice. He was fairly good at fighting, had been in the mixed martial arts club back in college…but four on one was not good odds by any stretch of the imagination. Plus, one of them had a knife. It looked like Desmond had no choice but to give the thugs what they wanted. He reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet, tossing it to the ground a few feet in front of him. “There. Now leave.”
“Ah-ah-ah,” said Switchblade. “Hand over that DS, too. I’m sure it’ll worth a few bucks.”
“That’s it, Jimmy! Milk ‘im for every cent he’s worth!” Said one of the four men, and the whole group burst out into laughter that grated in Desmond’s ears. The bartender reached into his pocket and clutched the DS close. It would take him weeks to earn enough to buy another one. The DS was practically Desmond’s only source of entertainment these days. And he’d been almost ready to take on the Champion in Pokemon White 2…
The man who’d spoken first let out the fakest, most dramatic sigh Desmond had ever seen. “Jimmy, rough this punk up a bit, why don’t’cha? Show him what happens to boys who don’t pay up like they’re told.”
Jimmy advanced on Desmond, his face twisted into a grin that looked positively demonic. He flipped his blade around carelessly, advancing slowly, almost lazily, on Desmond. “Last chance, kid. Hand over the DS and this doesn’t have to get ugly.”
Desmond backed away slowly. If he was lucky, he might be able to put enough space between him and his attackers in order to make a break for it. Unfortunately, the edge of his sneaker caught on the bench behind him, and Desmond fell right on his ass with a yelp. The group of thugs practically howled with laughter. Jimmy was only a few feet away from Desmond now, his switchblade seeming to fill up the bartender’s entire field of vision. Desmond squeezed his eyes closed, bracing himself…
…only to hear Jimmy start shrieking in pain. “MY EYES! GODDAMMIT, MY EYES!!! WHAT THE FUCK?!”
Re: WriterAnon here! Animal Magnetism Part 3/?
(Anonymous) 2012-11-24 05:47 am (UTC)(link)Suddenly, the ball of fur leapt off of Jimmy, revealing itself as a very angry cat. It ran to the entrance of a small alleyway across from the bus stop and took up a position there, still hissing and yowling loudly, its’ back arched and fur standing on end. Jimmy fell to his knees, clutching his wounded face and whimpering.
“Leave. Now.” A firm, demanding voice came floating out of the alleyway, it’s owner shrouded in shadows. Three of the thugs went pale at the sound of that angry voice, which promised certain and imminent pain in its’ tone, and ran off without another word. Jimmy got back to his feet and stumbled off after them. “You sons of bitches, why didn’t you help me?!” Desmond heard him yell faintly as he rounded a corner and vanished from sight.
A man emerged from the alleyway and walked towards Desmond. As he came under the soft glow of the streetlights, Desmond could see that his savior was tall, with lithe muscles rippling under bronze-colored skin. Coupled with his intense dark eyes, and longish hair pulled back into a ponytail, he cut an imposing figure in the darkness of the pre-dawn hours. The cat walked alongside him, and it appeared to have calmed down quite a bit. Desmond’s heart was pounding in his chest, the bartender’s own dark eyes riveted to the man’s. He wanted to get to his feet, to run away now that he had the chance, but Desmond’s body seemed frozen where it had fallen by the bench.
The strange man stopped briefly in the street to pick up the switchblade and Desmond’s wallet, before stopping in front of the terrified bartender and holding out a hand. “Are you hurt?” He asked, his voice now much quieter than it had been only a moment earlier. Close up, Desmond could see that the dark eyes had a spark of kindness to them, and a hint of a smile played about his lips. Desmond’s heart stopped trying to pound it’s way through his chest. He reached out and grasped the darker man’s hand, allowing him to pull the bartender back to his feet. Desmond’s wallet was handed back to him, and he gratefully tucked it back into the pocket of his jeans.
And just when he thought that his night couldn’t get any weirder, Desmond’s savior turned to the cat still at his side and meowed at it. The cat meowed back and rubbed against the man’s leg briefly before vanishing down a nearby side street.
“What…what the hell just…” Desmond knew that he should be thanking the man for saving him from certain bodily injury, but all he could do was stare at the dark-skinned man in front of him, mouth agape and eyes wide in shock. “Did…did you just talk to that cat?”
Re: WriterAnon here! Animal Magnetism Part 4/?
(Anonymous) 2012-11-24 05:49 am (UTC)(link)“No, I’m OK…and thank you, seriously, I would have been a goner if you hadn’t come along…but really man, what was up with that cat?”
“I saw you were in trouble. The cat happened to be nearby, so I asked for its assistance,” the darker man replied calmly, as if speaking to animals was a common, everyday occurrence. “Could you tell me where I might find a motel? I’m new to this city, and am in need of a place to stay.”
“You can talk to animals?!” Desmond was wondering if he might have fallen asleep at the bus stop and was dreaming this right now. He surreptitiously pinched himself, wincing when he felt pain. Obviously not a dream, then. “You can ask animals to help you, and fight for you?”
“That’s really an over-simplification-”
“That’s…that’s amazing! You’re like a real-life Pokemon Trainer!” Desmond cried out, his face splitting into a huge grin at the thought of someone being able to work with animals the way he had dreamed of working with Pokemon. The bartender could hardly believe such a thing was true. “Don’t worry man, you can stay with me. I’ve got an apartment. It’s the least I can do, after you saved my life and all.” It would be cramped in there with two people, Desmond knew, but he couldn’t let an opportunity like this slip by.
“What’s ‘Pokemon?’” The man asked, cocking his head to one side in confusion.
“What? Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Pokemon before! It’s only the best video game to ever be created. Have you been living under a rock all your life?”
The strange man smiled slightly, a wistful look coming into his eyes. “You could say that, I suppose.”
Desmond wanted to ask the man more questions, like where he’d come from and how he had learned to talk to animals. And how could one “say” that they’d lived under a rock all their life? However, the bartender didn’t want to scare the man off by asking too many questions all at once. Besides, it really was quite late. After what had happened, Desmond figured that they could both do with some sleep.
“I never really introduced myself. Desmond Miles,” Desmond said, smiling and holding out his hand to shake.
“Ratonhnhaké:ton.” The man firmly grasped Desmond’s hand in his own large, warm bronze one.
“Ratoh…Ratun…uh…” Desmond struggled to make sense of the strange name.
The darker man sighed. “Just call me Connor.”
“OK, Connor,” Desmond said. “Hey, could you teach me how to talk to animals like you do?”
“I’m not sure that would be a good idea,” Connor frowned slightly. “It’s not something that’s easy to learn, and I’ve never tried teaching anyone before…”
“Please,” Desmond looked Connor in the eyes as he spoke, desperate to somehow communicate his wish to the other man. Talking to animals was the closest he would ever get to being a Pokemon master in real life. There was no way he was giving up now that such a thing was somehow, miraculously, within his reach. “You have no idea, Connor, but this is something I’ve dreamed about my whole life. You have to teach me. I’ll work hard, I’ll do anything I need to do, I promise. Please.”
Connor looked at Desmond for a long moment, brow furrowed in thought, before finally speaking. “If there is a park nearby, take me there tomorrow. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Yes! Thank you so much Connor. You won’t regret this, I promise!” Desmond only barely restrained himself from jumping up and punching the air with joy. The huge smile on his face probably communicated his happiness well enough, anyway.
“I certainly hope not…” Connor muttered under his breath, coming to stand beside Desmond as the bus finally pulled up in front of them.
And all of this was Part 1, split up into parts for easy reading. :D Part 2 will hopefully be out in a few days, depending on my schedule. Enjoy!
Re: WriterAnon here! Animal Magnetism Part 4/?
(Anonymous) 2012-11-24 10:46 pm (UTC)(link)MY.
GOD.
THIS IS SO MUCH BETTER THAN WAHAT I WANTED. I LOVE ALL OF IT SO MUCH. XDDDDDD
Just when I though Thanksgiving couldn't get any better, I come back online to find Desmond the Pokemon nerd and Connor the animal talker. You make me so happy, especially how the cat attacked. That was awesome. XD I love it. Thank you so much for all of it that you've written so much. :) Thank you! I'm looking forward to all of it! XD You've gotten me so excited!
Re: WriterAnon here! Animal Magnetism Part 5/?
(Anonymous) 2012-12-06 05:52 am (UTC)(link)This is a long update for you, at least. ;)
“Uhhh…squeak-squee, chitter-chatter, squeak?”
The squirrel Desmond was attempting to communicate with started washing its face, studiously ignoring the increasingly frustrated bartender’s attempts at speaking its language. Desmond frowned at it. “Come on, I’m trying my best here!”
A few feet away, Connor sighed. Apparently, Desmond wasn’t the only frustrated party here. “What you just said translates approximately to ‘Squashed potatoes topping baby rabbits.’ You need to put more emphasis on the squeaking, Desmond. Don’t draw the chittering out so much; the chittering parts are meant to be spoken quickly. Let’s try again: /squeeeeaaak-squeeeee, chitter-chatter, squuueeeeaaak.”/
Desmond looked down and scuffed at a patch of dry grass with his sneaker, doing his best not to look at his new “teacher.” Speaking with animals was a lot harder than he thought it would be. It didn’t help that he’d gotten very little sleep last night. Having Connor sleeping on the living room’s small, lumpy little couch only a few feet away from Desmond’s tiny bedroom had proven to be very…distracting. And in more than one way, too.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
During the bus ride back to his apartment, Connor had identified his last name as Kenway, but not much else. He said he’d come to the city from a very small, out-of-the-way town in upstate New York which Desmond had “probably never heard of.” Questions about why Connor had come to the city, and if he had any family or friends nearby, were met with silence as Connor had stared out the bus’s windows, refusing to meet Desmond’s eyes.
Desmond dearly hoped that Connor wasn’t a serial killer. Now that some of the thrill had worn off, it struck Desmond as suspicious that a man who could talk to animals was wandering the dingy streets outside of Manhattan. What if he’d escaped from jail? Or maybe Connor wasn’t a criminal, but was secretly a government agent, here on some sort of top-secret mission?
Once they’d gotten to Desmond’s apartment, the bartender had been prepared to demand some answers from his new guest. However, upon entering the apartment Connor had practically collapsed onto the couch and fallen asleep. Seeing the exhausted furrows on his face, Desmond had decided to just let him sleep. But the rest that seemed to come so easily to Connor eluded Desmond. He’d been so tired after his shift, but now the bartender was wide-awake, body humming with adrenaline. Part of it was excitement, at having the chance to enter the real-life equivalent of a Pokemon game. Part of it was also curiosity, mixed with a healthy dose of nerves, about who exactly Connor Kenway was and why he was here.
Finally, Desmond could bear it no longer. He needed answers, and now, if he was ever going to be able to get to sleep. So he tip-toed into the living area, and with the utmost care and quiet started rifling through Connor’s only piece of luggage, a large black backpack which the man had dropped beside the couch.
Desmond was a bit disappointed with his findings, however. The backpack was crammed full of clothes for the most part, and rather nondescript jeans and T-shirts, at that. The backpack’s mesh side pocket held a half-empty plastic thermos of water. Near the bottom of the bag, Desmond found a rather beat-up looking wallet, containing a few hundred dollars in cash and a personal ID card. The ID card verified Connor’s last name as Kenway, and Desmond felt relieved that Connor had been telling the truth about that. The unpronounceable name Connor had first introduced himself with, the one that started with R, was listed as the first name on the card. Desmond could see why Connor had chosen something shorter as a nickname of sorts.
The ID card also listed the name of Connor’s town, and a quick Internet search revealed it to be the site of a Native American Mohawk reservation. If Connor was a Native American, then that would explain the strange name and why he’d want to leave home and see the world, at least. Searching for “Connor Kenway” turned up nothing, not even a Facebook page. There were, however, several hits for someone named Haytham Kenway, who was apparently a wealthy CEO for some business in England. Desmond frowned as he skimmed through Haytham’s Wikipedia page, which pictured a stern-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair, wearing a tailored suit that probably cost more than Desmond’s entire apartment. Haytham looked nothing at all like Connor. Kenway must be a more common last name than Desmond had originally thought, for two such different people to share it. Entering Connor’s Native name into the search engine revealed nothing else. Still, it didn’t seem like the man was a criminal. His ID card was genuine enough, and a hardened criminal who’d escaped from jail probably wouldn’t have any genuine identification.
Feeling at a little better about his new houseguest now, Desmond carefully put the backpack back in order and laid it down next to Connor once more. As he got up to go to bed, however, he happened to catch a look at Connor. In the next moment, he was openly staring at the sleeping man, eyes roving hungrily over his form.
At some point during the night Connor must have gotten up and taken off his shirt before going back to bed, as he was now clad only in a faded pair of jeans. His naked, bronze torso was bared for the world to see…and was he ripped. Whatever Connor had been doing before coming here, it had really given him a nice body. Desmond had never seen a six-pack like that before. The arms were nicely toned as well, muscular but not overly so. The man’s face was nice-looking too, Desmond decided, what with those long, dark lashes and full lips…
Then, Desmond realized that he was hard.
The bartender felt his face heat up at the realization that he’d just been eye-fucking a complete stranger. One who was staying in his apartment and sleeping on his couch, no less! Desmond had known since his teen years that he was bisexual, but he was shy when it came to romantic stuff, and didn’t have much experience with dating, not even during college. Besides, he’d never seen someone as painfully attractive as Connor, man or woman.
Desmond rushed into the bathroom and stood under the cold spray for about an hour, before he felt exhaustion overcome him and he stumbled back into bed.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The next morning, Desmond took Connor to the nearest park. It was as ill-kept as the rest of the city, covered in weed-choked, dry grass and littered with trash. A small playground near the entrance that seemed to consist entirely of rotting wood, rusted metal, and peeling paint was, predictably, deserted. Connor didn’t seem pleased with the place, but he nevertheless let Desmond lead them towards a stand of old trees where they could find a bit of privacy.
Connor let out a series of high-pitched noises, and before long a small, furry gray squirrel had run out of a tree and settled happily on the man’s shoulder. Desmond felt the excitement from last night well up within him at further proof that Connor could communicate with animals.
Connor sat cross-legged on the ground, and proceeded to instruct Desmond in the nuances of speaking the squirrel language. It seemed to consist of a lot of squeaking and chittering noises, many of which were spoken at what seemed to be an impossibly high pitch for a human male. There were also fifty different ways to say the word “acorn,” depending on the context.
At first, Desmond paid rapt attention to what Connor was saying. But as the instruction dragged on past an hour, the bartender found his mind wandering. He wondered if it was possible to get an animal to follow you around, like a Pokemon would outside of its Poke Ball. It would really be helpful to have animals around to help you out of a tight spot, like how Connor was able to get the cat to help Desmond just last night. Maybe they could also be asked to fetch things for you when you forgot them? Desmond couldn’t wait to find out.
Unfortunately for Desmond, his thoughts soon turned to Connor’s body, and how he’d looked last night, shirtless and asleep on Desmond’s couch. Of course the man was wearing clothes now, but Desmond could still picture the sculpted abs and chest beneath. The bartender found his throat going dry at thoughts of what he wanted Connor to do to him with more than just his shirt off. He studiously focused his eyes anywhere but on Connor: at the trees, the dry grass, even at the squirrel that was staring at him with its beady little eyes as if it knew exactly what was going through Desmond’s head…
“…mond? Desmond!” Connor’s annoyed-sounding voice broke through the haze that had surrounded Desmond’s head. He blinked, turned his head, and met the impatient eyes of his teacher.
“Wuh?” Desmond could have smacked himself at how stupid that sounded coming out of his mouth. /Real smooth,/ he thought to himself.
Connor sighed. “I thought you might want to practice with the squirrel now, since it appears your attention has been…wandering. He squeaked softly at the squirrel on his shoulder, which leapt off of Connor and landed deftly on the ground at Desmond’s feet, looking up at him expectantly.
And so, Desmond began his attempts to make conversation with the squirrel, rather unsuccessfully. He had a feeling the animal was laughing at him behind those conniving little eyes.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“OK, lemme try this just one more time: ‘Squeeeeaaaak-squeeeeeaaaaaak, chitter-chitter, squeak, chitter.’”
The squirrel suddenly sat straight up on its haunches from where it had previously been nibbling at the grass, not even feigning boredom. Its’ gaze was now riveted on Desmond, whose heart leapt at finally getting through to the animal.
“I did it! He understands!” Desmond cried out to Connor with all the enthusiasm of a young child finally teaching his puppy a new trick.
Connor, on the other hand, looked less than impressed. In fact, he looked quite worried, his eyes darting back and forth between Desmond and the squirrel. Desmond furrowed his brow in confusion and was about to ask the man what the matter was, when suddenly the squirrel let out a very loud “SQUEAK!” In the next moment, it had sunk its’ razor-sharp teeth into the flesh of Desmond’s hand.
“AAAAAGGGGHHHH! SHIT! OUCH! HOLY FUCK, GET THIS THING OFF OF ME!” Desmond yelled, flailing his arm back and forth to try and dislodge the squirrel. The animal was tenacious however, its’ teeth staying firmly attached to Desmond.
“Stop! You’ll hurt him!” Connor cried out. He rushed forward and grasped Desmond’s arm to hold it still, then launched into a flurry of squeaking. The squirrel looked at Connor for a few seconds, then finally released Desmond’s hand and dropped back down to the ground.
“Crap, that hurt!” Desmond cried, cradling his wounded hand to his chest. “You never said that thing was feral, Connor, what gives?!”
“Desmond, please calm down.” Connor held up his hands in the universal gesture of peace. “Fluff here is not feral. You, err…accidentally said to him that his mother had…um…relations, with a chipmunk. So you can see why he reacted in the way he did-”
“Fuck this! This kind of stuff never happens in Pokemon! And its’ name is Fluff?!”
“Well, his actual name is squeak-chitter-squeak-squeak, but Fluff is the approximate English translation…” Connor trailed off as Desmond glared at him. The bartender was pissed off beyond belief. This was definitely not how he’d expected things to go.
“I’m going home,” Desmond ground out between clenched teeth. He turned around and started walking quickly out of the park, hoping that his hand wouldn’t need stitches.
“Desmond, wait…” Connor called after him, reaching out a hand as if to catch the retreating bartender. When it became clear that Desmond was not returning, Connor sighed and let his arm fall back to his side.
/“This is all your fault, you know. You could have been more patient with him,”/ Connor said to Fluff in the squirrel’s native language.
Fluff flicked his tail in distaste. /“Pup deserved it. Wasn’t paying attention while you explained my language to him. Was looking at you, the way a male looks at a female he wants to mate. Or take acorns from.”/
/“…What do you mean, ‘looking at me?’”/
Fluff stretched himself out on the grass. Humans could be quite foolish sometimes, especially when it came to matters of attraction. The young squirrel didn’t understand why humans didn’t focus the energy they spent pining after someone on finding and storing acorns for the cold months. That would be a much more practical use of time, in Fluff’s opinion.
“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help Desmond again,” Connor muttered, giving up on asking Fluff to explain what he'd meant. Squirrels said some weird things sometimes, especially about nuts and tree-climbing. /“I’m new here, and there aren’t any animals around I know well enough to ask.”/
Fluff cocked his head to the side, considering. After a moment he said, /“Bring food tomorrow?”/
/“Deal,”/ Connor replied, reaching down to pat Fluff in farewell before hurrying off after Desmond.
Re: WriterAnon here! Animal Magnetism Part 5/?
(Anonymous) 2012-12-10 02:50 am (UTC)(link)Re: Animal Magnetism Part OP
(Anonymous) 2012-12-13 01:48 am (UTC)(link)I just have to say this: I was totally envisioning Desmond in The Emperor's New Groove reading him squeaking to the squirrel. XD That made my night! XD And what he said on accident was hilarious! "Relations with a chipmunk," how scandalous! Oh, Fluff. Poor Desmond. XD I'm rooting for you, buddy!
And Connor is just hilarious. XD So oblivious. Poor dear.
Personally, I'm just gonna say I like that the prompt ran away with you. This makes me happy. :3 More fic! Yay! I love it! Take your time, anon, and rest assured you still have my undying love.