paradisalost | ☠ 031

[So, back at the beginning of the month, Molotov and Brock discussed the fact that his cabin needs a bearskin rug.

Well, like any good consumer, Molotov has decided that she needs to weigh the options properly. But a little input from others never hurt, so she asks the journal.]

I cannot decide on a color. Tell me, what looks best on a rug: black or brown? It also appears that a light tan is an option, but it might not look appropriate in all seasons.

[And then there is some roaring in the background. This is because Molotov is currently standing on the front lawn, surrounded by bears. Just a whole bunch of bears. Grizzlies, black bears, honey bears. There's even a polar bear, though Molotov seems to not be considering that one as a rug, so much as a pet. All of the bears are chained to the ground, and they have muzzles, and Molotov seems to think that makes them safe enough to be petting as she feels their different fur qualities.]

Is anyone here an interior designer? I have a feeling that the largest size available might not be the best option as far as decor goes...

[ OOC: Open! Everyone is free to come and play with/be mauled by Molotov's collection of bears. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

... is this a guarantee? I don't want to get shafted, Molotov. [he doesn't know about that double entendre at all]

Good dogs get treats, my darling Samson.

[and good bitches get bred? idek]

Stop calling me a dog and you got a deal.

[Ew, creepy!]

But you are my puppy.

[yep]

No ...

Da. [So much smirking everywhere. Molotov quickly ties her bear to the ground and saunters over to Brock.] My fluffy... pouty... little... puppy.

[NO ... NO, SO RUDE ... Brock just looks around, like maybe this is a trap? Somehow? Brock, stop it.]

No ...

[Molotov just keeps her eye on Brock, like he's prey, and keeps sashaying until she's close enough to press herself against him.]

Oh, da. And you know how much I love my puppy.

[Pressing up against?! How rude! Brock's hands hover at her hips for a moment, unsure, before he lightly touches her with the very tips of his fingers. This still might be a trick! She is being awful seductive, that usually doesn't bode well.]

What? What are you doing.

[Molotov wraps one arm around his neck, and strokes his chest with the other.]

What do you think I am doing?

[Eyeshift. His hands are flush against her hips now, though he's not looking at her. Resist, Samson, resist!!]

Manipulating me.

[Fine then! Molotov makes sure to get close enough to him that he can feel her breath on his neck.]

Howso? It would seem to me that you are getting the better end of this deal...

[That's even ruder ........]

I don't know, Mol. Building a bunch of fences for one little thing doesn't seem all that fair ...

Mmm, play your cards right and it will be far more than one little thing.

[Oh he finally looks at her now. Smirking a little ...]

And how exactly would I do that?

[Molotov smirks back!]

Build everything to my specifications. No complaining. Help me care for the bears until everything is built.

"Your specifications." How specific are your specifications?

Worried you cannot meet them?

[Eyeroll!] Don't be stupid. I just want to know what I'm agreeing to before I ... uh, agree to it.

What do you think I would be having you do that you cannot?

[Squint ... and then he squeezes her ass a little. No reason. It's just there.]

I don't know. But you're being awful cagey, Mol.

No more than usual. You are the one who is being ridiculous.

[And then she tilts up to sweep her tongue along his ear.]

[DANGER DANGER DANGER

no I'm kidding, he just decides to avoid the rest of this conversation and bends down to kiss her hard.]

[This works for Molotov, as it means she will get exactly what she wants! Yayyyy hooray!

She kisses back, smiling and making pleased noises.]

[No it doesn't, no it doesn't! It just means Brock got distracted by making out, that's all!! Damn.

Brock keeps his hands at her ass, eventually lifting her up in the air.]

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