IC Oria City

MaryGold

terrified to be known, desperate to be understood
Original poster
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FOLKLORE MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. 1-3 posts per week
  2. One post per week
  3. Slow As Molasses
Writing Levels
  1. Intermediate
  2. Adept
  3. Adaptable
Genres
romance. angst. drama. modern. fantasy. supernatural. adventure. crime. period pieces.
ORIA CITY, TEXAS


restoration and regrowth

Because of the significant damage done to this city during the war that can still be seen in certain areas today, it is commonly called the Waste City. Despite this, most of the city has recovered greatly and is quite beautiful. Still, it is a dangerous place to live, with plenty of Magi practicing dark magic for hire and Vampir that feed on others without their consent. Because of the high crime rate, The Circle system is stricter and more rigid here.

FORECAST

DATE: October 29th, 2035. Friday.

TIME: 7:30 PM. Evening.

WEATHER: 67.8°F (19.9°C). Warm and humid.

CITY ACTIVITY

If Black City is the city that never sleeps at night, Oria is the city that is only alive at night. With Hallow's Eve on the cusp, Magi business is booming, and those practicing the dark arts are preparing to take advantage of the sacred night. Visitors near and far are passing through, and natives are home safely or out enjoying as much as they can in the Waste City.

CITY NEWS
Nothing for now.

UPCOMING EVENTS

- Fun activities will be added later. Can add any of your ideas too.

NOTABLE LOCATIONS

Soft Delights Massage Parlor
The Foxtail Dojo

[See Buildings and Businesses thread]


TIME SKIP LIST
 
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BLAINE
See The Red Light District.


The clean-up that follows is routine and simple, Mr. Richmond leaving after patting Blaine on the head and thanking him for a job well done. Blaine uses one of the towels they use to cover up the clients' private areas to clean himself and the table of excess fluids, then wipes everything down with some Thieves Oil Cleaner. Between that and the eucalyptus-scented wall plug-in, it should hopefully leave the room refreshed before his next client.

This is perhaps the most physically strenuous job he's ever had, a fact he hadn't expected when he'd first been approached for the job, but as he pulls the five hundred dollar bills from his shirt, he can't find it in himself to complain. Still, he's ready to head home and go to bed after that. Hopefully his next client isn't interested in extra services.
「 N/A 」
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1681262996007.pngThe evening was clean, and a good way to end the work week. In the prime time of TGIF, Violet blended into the dusk as she stalked her way straight down the cobblestone path of the quad, fighting her instinct to drift between the umbras of the great oaks that dotted the campus. Half a bottle of XinQ Sportsade (cherry flavour) and a cold cheese sandwich sloshed in her stomach, the rest of the drink in her backpack.

The office of the aficionado she sought was buried in a grand building, but she walked the path with the ease of a seasoned student and soon left behind the waft of paper and anxiety to the more sterile, stale air of the administrative corridor. The door she was looking for was just ahead on her left, stained pecan with a brass knob that stretched her fingers. Her knuckles rapped the wood three times, then she jammed them into her pockets, cocking her hip and bringing up a smile in anticipation.

"Hey. Ready?"

"I hope it's okay for you to hang out with me,"
she would say, same as every day and every year they had hung out, since Anya had found her.

"What are we watching this time?" She never picked.

@Nemopedia
 
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Anya Nosferatu
Redblood Vampir

Friday night meant for many the start of a weekend, but within the walls of Nosferatu Research University work hours were continuous and so it did for the Provost-Assistant, who wouldn’t have clued in on Halloween falling in the weekend had it not been for one invitation to the Halloween party on campus. A typical student party that Anya wouldn’t be attending for work was never ending and a particular headache had cropped up.

A problem of the size and trouble that Anya had entirely forgotten the time and day, for the weekend still seemed far away, until the familiar footsteps and the rhythmic three knocks sounded, nearly startling Anya out of her work, her head instinctively turning up towards the opening as if her faded eyes could still see, the file in front of her smacked shut with a decisive thud.

“I was thinking of a Halloween classic; Hocus Pocus,” the vampir recovered herself quickly, a smile around her lips before smoothening out her skirt, “the local cinema down the street is running it as a special,” she would continue, pulling another paper over the file Anya had been contemplating over, the name ’Nessie’ only visible for a flash second before the vampir moved herself away from her desk and towards the door.

Her hand reached out for Violet, as if asking for assistance. It was the vampir’s way of asking for permission to share vision, for confident as Anya was with the corridors of the university the ability to see was still dearly missed.

“How has work been lately?”
 
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Violet's mono-gaze had long been roving over the room, and she pulled it to Anya's face from the desk as she took her hand. She always thought, but never asked to make sure, that Anya liked to see herself when possible. The Vampir's hand was impossibly smooth, smoother than silk, with the contact chill and firm suppleness that hid the warmth of a vitality triple her own, and rather then enjoy the feeling it only made Violet aware of how rough and finite she was.

"Quiet. My manager suddenly stopped giving me shifts."

Thus, she had spent the evening stripping, cleaning, and oiling her tools of the trade. The Vampirs may have took over and remolded society, but so many things remained the same. Suddenly, she hoped that she had scrubbed all the machine smell off, and curled her fingers over a small cut on her palm.

"So I haven't had much pay. You can spot me, right?"

She formed a loop with her other arm, through which Anya could place her hand.

"I can guide us there. I know the way there, at least.

@Nemopedia
 
Anya Nosferatu
Redblood Vampir

Blobs of colour and balls of lights turned into sharp lines, like looking through a microscope of which the settings were rapidly being adjusted. Zooming in on first her office, a dark cave of a room covered wall to wall with books and papers, and then on her own face, a sight Anya never quite got used to, there was then finally the hallways of the university, the paths not as broad and seeming longer than they actually were because of a missing eye. It made the vampir smile inwardly as she thought that they shared half a vision between two people now.

“Work being slow?” Anya’s question sounded in sympathy, the harsh realities of freelancing and Oria City in its whole all too familiar. “I can talk to Father for you, there are always leaks and disappearances that need looking into,” she offered, thinking of the recent happenings Father had forbidden her to discuss outside of the two of them. Inconvenient, as Father was getting old and feeble and she was suffering her own limitations, but understandable for there were elements to it that no one within Nosferatu could afford to expose.

But it was Friday and as much as Anya loved her job and looked up against Father this was her down-time. The time where Anya didn’t have to be a Nosferatu anymore, where she could forget about Father who wasn’t her father but the closest to a father figure she ever had and will have and about everything else.

“I will treat you, but I get to choose the popcorn and flavour,” Anya chipperly added, a skip in her step as she took Violet’s arm, a hum in her voice and a confident step down the stairs she had walked a thousand times over. “Caramel, butter everything,” the vampir exclaimed, already looking forward to the mishmash of sweet, salty and slippery fatty goodness. A horror for most, but it delighted Anya.
 
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"I'd appreciate that, but I'm not sure. My contractor ... he can get demanding when he phones me up. I usually have to drop what I'm doing, and that doesn't help with clients coming back."

Glowing pumpkins marked the main road that pointed out of the campus. Someone had seen fit to stick a bunch of candles onto the trees, which suffered no extra stupidity except for a bit of hot wax. The flickering lights glimmered, appearing the same size until they abruptly bloomed in her vision. Only Violet's steadfast adherence to the middle of the road saved her from any unwanted kisses, and perhaps a squeeze or two in the crook of her arm.

Old flickering incandescent lightbulbs sprouted on every surface of the signage to Rainbow Cinemas. At least three lightbulbs were burned out, and the rest would have only revealed themselves with a long seance staring at the fast moving patterns. Violet played her eyes across the entirety of the warm garish display. She thought that Anya would like to see it.

"Two."

In front of the outdoor ticket kiosk, with its thicker-than-normal glass and armoured voice grate, Violet turned to Anya. It was almost as bright as dusk, and she let her gaze play over the Vampir's features again, lingering on the intricately braided hair.

"Hey... I never asked, are you forced to see what I'm looking at?"
 
Anya Nosferatu
Redblood Vampir

Despite the offer Anya wasn't even sure if Father would agree to the idea of helping Violet. Knowing the man Anya could already tell that it was not going to be for free. That was nothing for Violet to worry about, and Anya was used to owing Father.

"I will talk to Father about it," she promises, a reassuring pat on the arm following.

She takes a moment to answer her friend, however blinking her eyes that don't actually see anything as she pulls the both of them together towards the snacks. "I like keeping track of how often you look at me instead of the screen," Anya teases, avoiding the question. Her loss wasn't a secret, not to anyone but it wasn't something Anya wanted a reminder of either.

"I did good on that braid," Anya praises herself turning to the student behind the bar with a wide grin back at the recognition in their voice as Anya orders her salted butter caramel popcorn.
 
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Blinking was as good as Violet could manage, in addition to a silence that could have been stoic, or stunned. She focused instead on the preparation of their popcorn, which comprised everything she did not like, as a professional: sticky, salty, and gooey liquids that could creep into everything, rust everything, and leave fingerprints on everything.

"Fork, please."

So she twirled the little plastic implement as they continued on to the Theatre Number 1. The carpet was still a bit lush, and altogether a smarter choice for any detritus. The double doors were open, and the preshow was running, but it was uncharacteristically dark inside. The lights were dimmed, as if the feature reel was already rolling, and there was only a dim advertisement flickering on the screen for a personal injury lawyer. In the shadows, all the stairs were flat, and all the chairs were the same distance.

"I can't really see. We'll have to wait a bit."
 
Anya Nosferatu
Redblood Vampir

The limitations to vision with a single eye were met in the darkness of the theatre struggling to adjust. It elicited a laugh from Anya, a tinkling giggle as she responded with a, “I can’t see at all,” before reaching out to one of the employees at the entrance, meant to guide the guests to their seats and vision bloomed once more.

“Can I help you?” the employee asked, and Anya could see herself smile as her other hand lightly presses into Violet’s, sharing the vision of the employee with her friend.

“What was our seat again?” Anya asks, used as she was to look at herself from a third person view.
 
1688936852855.pngViolet didn't like it when Anya did that. They did not meet enough to begin with, and so the number of times she experienced this perspective was vanishingly few; however, the sensation of it was seared into her memory. It always began with a dumb look, a slight widening of her one eye and a flare of her nostrils as her breath quickened. Hidden under her chest her heart began to race, but that was harder to discern. Then she would stumble, unable to connect her movements with the extra view, but all of that took place within a few seconds before she squeezed Anya's hand. They had never shared vision long enough for her to completely dissociate, but she already felt her sense of self fleeing, her own sight slowly disappearing like a nose for people with two functional eyes. Her sensation of touch would fade next, then her ears would begin to ring ... but they had never shared longer than that.

For now, Violet watched the two of them haltingly move up the stairs, to somewhere in the middle where everyone liked to sit. The preview reels began in earnest, and the house lights slightly brightened. The sharp, jagged flashes from the screen flashed all the shadows on their faces away, and the campy screams and foley of mashed cantaloupe slowly cut through the ringing. She realized that she held Anya's hand, tight.

@Nemopedia
 
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PIERCE
"Herbert, stop nibbling on my shirt," Pierce sighs, carefully unlatching his fluffy and tenacious hamster from putting a hole in his (admittedly already tattered) t-shirt advertising some band he's never listened to. Like with most of his clothes, his parents got it from a Goodwill. As long as it fit him, it was going on him. He doesn't care enough about fashion to replace his worn wardrobe, usually only buying new clothes when they're required for his newest con.

For example, the little red dress currently in his and his roommate's kitchen trashcan is one he bought for a mission this morning. He'd been paid by a congressman's suspicious wife to seduce her husband in an attempt to discover if he's been cheating on her. He managed to get out without actually fucking the guy, thankfully, and even with some information on an upcoming healthcare bill. Apparently, insulin prices are going up again. Not sure what he'll do with that, but it'll probably come in handy in the future. At least he's not aiding in the divorce of anyone doing society good.

"Seriously, Herbert, I just fed you guys! Go hang out with your boyfriend." He grabs his hamster again and moves him to where Achilles is curled up against the couch's armrest, hoping they might keep each other entertained while he watches a re-run of Friends. What? There's nothing better to do.

He doesn't get much more time before he's distracted by the door opening, revealing a work-weary Wiley. "Hey," he greets plainly. "Herbert is insisting that I'm starving him."
@MaryGold
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JUPITER

"Are you sure you want me to go undercover for this Lieutenant?" Jupiter asked as he straightened his tie. He'd only been in the field in Oria for a few weeks now, and already his boss trusted him to go undercover to check out some shady "massage parlor"? Was he just that good of a cop or were they giving the brunt of the work to the new kid? He'd have to decide later.

"What's the problem Chavez?" Lieutenant Swift smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're not scared are you? Cuz if you aren't up to it I can always h-"

"No no, I can do it!" Jupiter interrupted with a wave of his hands. "It's just that I only just got here and joined the team. Seems like a lot to put on me so soon." Jupiter gave a small shrug, the anxiety and insecurity showing in his eyes until the captain rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Listen dude, I've seen your file and you've got a damn good rap sheet. You work your ass off when it comes to everything you do. As long as you keep givin' us your best, I can tell that you'll go a long way here." She nodded giving him a few pats on the back and walked around her desk. Odette pointed towards her office door as she sat down, and knowing that meant 'now get your ass out there and get some information', he left the room with a chuckle.

✿ ✿ ✿

Jupiter slowed to a stop, put the car in park and sat back; looking across the dash, and into the windows of the "massage parlor" he'd been assigned to look into. He of all people knew that looks could be deceiving, but for the most part, it looked like a regular place to get a massage. And in all honesty, if he hadn't have known it was there, he probably would've missed it altogether.

Jupe stepped out of the car, taking a moment to study the signs out front.

Hours Mon - Sun - 11AM to 11PM

'Hm'
he thought to himself. Was 11 too late to get a legit massage or did only dirty massages go down late at night? He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten in some actual self care.

Swinging the door open, he stepped inside, looking around for a moment before he spoke. "I'm looking to get a massage from the best hands you have in the building."
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BLAINE
After wiping his sweat down with some wet wipes and fixing his hair, Blaine retreats to the main lobby where the water cooler is located. He's worked up a thirst, so now the water pouring into one of the provided styrofoam cups seems like an elixir of rejuvenation. When he takes a crisp sip, he could moan.

Unfortunately, his moment of peace is interrupted by a new client making a rather loud entrance. The receptionist looks at him pointedly. He blinks. Oh! "Well, I'm not sure I'm the best here, but I don't have any clients right now," He grins at this man. He's small - almost an entire foot shorter than him, probably. He's awfully stylish with his highlighted hair and coordinated cowboy get-up. His accent sounds southern, but not the same as the ones of the people here in Oria. He's attractive — more than most of the people that come to this place, in fact. Well, at least more than the clients he's used to serving.

"If you want to follow me, we can get started," he chirps, slamming the rest of his water (somewhat mournfully) and working it down his throat before tossing the cup into the nearby trashcan. He gestures for this tiny stranger to follow, leading him into his room. It smells fresh and clean now, he can only hope he hasn't gone noseblind to the lingering scent of sex that often pervades the place. "You can undress behind the curtain there," he says, gesturing to said black velvet curtain in the corner.

While he does that, he replaces the paper on the table and pulls out a fresh heated blanket. "I'm Rosie, by the way. At least, that's what everyone calls me here. What kind of massage are you looking for today?"
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JUPITER

Jupe could've literally kicked himself in the ass. 'What kind of Fred the fish shit did I just do?' He mentally chuckled at himself for the exaggerated ass entrance he just made. But he also wouldn't be him if everything he did was wasn't extra as fuck.

He couldn't help but look up at the man chugging water near the cooler considering he was so much taller than him. Jupiter didn't realize how he could overlook such a — tall drink of water (pun intended) when he'd come through the door. If they were doing sexy massages here, Jupiter could tell why they were getting them from this man. His dimples, quaff hairstyle and southern accent only added to the attraction. Sure, his accent was southern too, but there was something about those Texas boys that were on another level.

He has to stifle the 'oop' that almost comes out of his mouth as the man guzzles down the last of his water. How the hell someone made something as mundane as drinking water look so attractive he would never know. "Lead the way." Jupiter smiles, following the handsome giant to a dimly lit room.

The candles adorning the shelves made the room smell… different. It wasn't necessarily disgusting, but it wasn't completely fresh either. His mother would've said 'mijo your room smells kinda musty! You boys need to shower after riding on those bulls,' with her nose upturned a little bit. Little did she know it hadn't been bulls they were riding.

'There's strike one Mr. Tall and Handsome!' Jupiter mentally scolds. "Thank you," he steps behind the curtain, heart racing once he realizes what he's there to do. For a moment, he'd forgotten he was there on a job and not to actually get a massage. There wouldn't be a problem if he did though right? It was part of the job! All a part of getting intel; not to mention he'd probably look very suspicious asking all kinds of questions and then leaving.

"Nice to meet you, Rosie," Jupiter strips down to nothing but his boxers as he makes his way from behind the curtain. "Perhaps maybe a Swedish or hot stone massage, something that'll loosen me up from work." Jupe sighs, ready to flex his acting skills during this job, especially considering he'd come up with a whole story for himself. "Oh, and I'm Santiago, but you can call me Santi," he flashes him a smile.
@wren.
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BLAINE
Santiago has a nice smile. A nice body, too, now that most of it isn't covered up. He tries not to let his gaze linger too long on the front of his groin, definitely not interested in what he might be hiding in there. He pats the table in invitation, flashing him a smile of his own. "I've never been good with the stones, admittedly. I can never seem to get them the right temperature. But I can do a Swedish massage! I'm good with my hands. Well, obviously; that's why I'm a masseur." He laughs, embarrassed.

Once Santiago settles with his stomach flat on the table, head in the provided divot, Blaine covers his shame with the warm blanket. Not that he has anything to be ashamed of; his ass is just as nice to look at as his front, it turns out. "What is a long day?" he asks, just to fill the silence, turning his radio on so that it can play relaxing melodies at a low volume. He warms his hands as he returns, lubing them up with the gel on the table beside the table.

He reaches toward his back, then pauses, "You're not allergic to almond oil, by chance?" The lubricant they use is made from almond oil mixed with wax to create a gel-like texture, offering a decent amount of grip without the same quick-absorbing properties of lotion.

When he's sure all is well, he gets to it, gliding his hands along the planes of Santiago's smooth skin in gentle circular motions. "You're really tense," he says, "I can see why you're here." He applies more pressure to the strokes, trying to work out the knots of muscle. "Have you gotten a massage done before? ... Am I talking too much?"
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JUPITER
Jupiter — or Santiago — is physically smiling but mentally there's a smirk and smugness in his conscience. 'This is going swimmingly!' Rosie's eyes lingering on his body a tad too long gives him just enough confidence to know that he didn't suspect anything.

He couldn't resist the light laugh that escaped his lips as Rosie invitingly patted the table. It was cute. "I don't mind a little pain," he flirts as he lays down on the table, shimmying a little to get comfortable. "But a Swedish massage sounds perfect! I can see what those hands of yours can do." Jupiter sighs once the blanket hits his skin, the warmth taking its turn to slightly soothe his aching muscles. With his face hidden under the massage table, he smirks; ecstatic to get another chance to flex his skills so soon.

"I do some accounting and personal training by day and a little bit of performing at night sometimes." Jupiter spoke, mentally cackling at the thought of that one 'I'm An Accountant' song he'd heard on TikTok. "No, almonds are actually my favorite kind of nut." He's mentally cackling again. But he's not lying. And Almond Joy is his favorite candy.

Jupiter can't help but groan as Rosie's hands run along his body and it's like he can almost feel the stress melting out of his muscles. 'Remember you're working Jupe. Don't let Rosie distract you too much.' He makes sure to mentally prod himself again, lest he gets lost in the stress relief process.

"I have but it's been a long while since then," Jupiter laughs at his question, was he nervous about doing a job he'd done plenty of times before? "No, you're fine! The conversation is nice." Jupe smiles although he knows Rosie can't see it.
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BLAINE
Blaine smiles, gently drumming his hands along Jupiter's back to create vibrations. "Good. Some clients prefer silence," he explains, "Some of them even use the opportunity to take a nap. So I try to ask what people prefer. Nothing worse than being forced to talk when you're not in the mood, right?" Not that he's dealt with that much; he's always the one talking. But he's seen people around him shut down enough times to understand the feeling.

He moves his hands to his shoulders and neck, concentrating his efforts on the knots there. "I can tell you exercise a lot, you have a nice body," he says. "What kind of performing do you do?" His hands gradually move to his arms, using long, languid strokes from his shoulders to his fingertips.

When he's finished with his torso, he pulls the blanket over his top half, folding it away from his legs so that he can work on his thighs and calves. "Do you want me to apply more pressure?"
@Ghostie
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WILEY SARFF
NAGA


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There were only three appointments on his roster today and all of them took hours. It was always the complicated pieces he was assigned. Curse his skilled hands, no really, curse them. And his silly decision to get into art and train to create art on the canvas that was the skin of people. Sifting his blood vessels to see very well wasn’t tiring, but it was dangerous. His flesh was made soft and easily piercable.

Frankly, Wiley was lucky that there were few who knew anything of the Sarpa body. The body he worked in an environment that pierced regularly every hour of the day. And he wasn’t as careful as someone like him should have been. Perhaps he had been living amongst people too long. His father would be very disappointed if he saw him now.

So, not only did he have to trudge up the steps to his apartment with tired limbs for sitting and staying in the same position for hours, meticulously and cautiously tattooing people. But every other day he gained some new bruise and scratch he wasn’t quite sure came from. But he had a cabinet dedicated to colorful cartoon bandaids for a reason.

Wiley may have been exhausted, but the sight of his front door made a new energy surge through him. “Mommy’s home!” He announced as he swung the door open and tossed his keys onto the coffee table of their living room. He kicked off his boots and sauntered over to the mentioned rats with a smile, scritching the top of Herbert’s head with a little grin. “If he’s insisting it, it must be true. I’m hungry too, Pierce.” He pouted up at the man, hoping it would be enough to make him whip them something up.

Still, he wanted a snack. Wiley tucked loose strands of his hair back and walked into the kitchen to grab - something. He hoped they still had pudding cups left. But he didn’t make it halfway to the fridge before his eyes caught a glimpse of something red in their trash. Nosy as he was, he fished the item from the trash and held it up to his own body. “Is this a dress? Did you have somebody over?” There were more questions forming in his head as he made his way back to his roommate. “Are you seeing someone?” He kept his voice low as if not to their children, their rats, and their freeloading roommates, know about the affair.

@wren. 」​

 
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JUPITER
Jupiter sighs, relaxation replacing stress as Blaine's hands and fingers strum calming melodies along his body. For the first time ever, his job was actually melting the stress away. It'd probably be a long while before something like this ever happened again. But maybe not if the lieutenant trusted him to go undercover like this all the time. At least while they investigated the massage parlor.

"I can imagine why a nap would be in order," Jupiter spoke through light chuckles, "but I get exactly what you mean. Although when you're talking numbers a lot of the time, it's nice to talk about literally anything else." He fibs; while he did have a small accounting background and his parents sometimes went to him to do their taxes, Jupiter wouldn't be caught dead accounting for a permanent job. Way too boring.

"Thank you very much," He beams. "I bull ride in the rodeos. Gotta stay strong to handle that. Bulls really keep you on your toes." He only half fibs this time around. Jupiter still rode bulls sometimes, but he honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd done any competitive riding.

Thinking about all the running and leg workouts he's been doing lately, Jupiter can't help but slightly lift his head up to nod at him. "Please, I've been going crazy on leg day." He chuckles, relaxing back into Blaine's enchanting touches.
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