#Old people always called me a tomboy...which got under my skin. Now I think that's bc I knew it meant ''but you're still a girl :)''

[crystalkleure]

Turns out, I’m pretty sure I’m not a woman. I think...I’m gonna try he/him, and see if that fits a little better. It sure feels more Right.

I have always really, REALLY liked the super feminine male characters in all the media I consume, like, the long-haired pretty boy types. And I wish I could say that’s just thirst, but I like girls. As much as I can, at least; I’m asexual. No, if I ACTUALLY think a character is hot, I Specifically Do NOT post or talk a lot about them in fear of being obvious because that’s Embarrassing™ to me lmao.

Still, Pretty Boys always Extremely Catch My Attention. For instance, like...I have Pokemon Shield. When the expansion pack was announced, I wasn’t interested at ALL. Until I saw Avery. And then I was immediately willing to shell out $30 for the fucking thing. That’s not normal, what the fuck is wrong with me.

Turns out it’s not “thirst”. It’s “goals”. I finally figured out what my deal is there, and it’s that those are the characters I relate to the most. The feeling isn’t “damn, I want that”, it’s “damn, I want to BE that”.

Not to mention, every time I make an OC that I can successfully relate to, it’s always a dude. A pretty dude, but a dude. When I was younger, all of my self-inserts [that thankfully never saw the light of day on the internet] were Really Buff Chicks with no tits who were frequently MISTAKEN for Really Pretty Dudes, and then later they were just. Dudes.

And Noel is not my first name. It’s my middle name. I have always HATED my first name, but it took me forever to put my finger on why -- it’s too feminine, that’s what’s wrong. Yeah, I also like that “Noel” has some Actual Fitting Meaning to it, it’s “Christmas spirit” because I was born in December, but...it’s also a unisex name. Technically. There are two ways to spell it, one for each gender. And my version of it...is spelled the “male” way. When Noel is a chick’s name, it’s supposed to be “Noelle”. I think...I would not have liked it if it were the latter.

Also, when I was younger, like still in school, another thing is that all of my friends were boys, always. I never wanted to hang out with the girls because they were pretty and I was shy and they didn't want to roughhouse with me. I always liked to wrassle with the dudes instead, we'd get real scuffed up and dirty and it was great. Also video games, I liked playing video games with them. Loud shoot-em-up type video games. I was always, just..."one of the dudes".

Didn’t outgrow it, either. Even after being homeschooled for years, and thus essentially just isolated alone with my mother, at one point a group of 14-ish y/o kids moved in down the street and I hit it off with the boys immediately. Played basketball n shit with them, and they didn’t lose interest when I told them I was gay. Like, they weren't trying to get with me, we just genuinely enjoyed hanging out and Doing Extremely Bro Stuff. [[One of them was a little hesitant about letting me around his female cousin though lmao, because she was pretty and he could tell I could tell and so Overprotective Mode Activated just like when the other boys sidled up to her. That was fun. I miss those guys, they all moved away eventually. Hope they’re doing well.]]

So, I’ve always just been very rough, until I got too sickly and weak to be rough anymore. Liked helping out with physical labour around the house, too. Testing my strength, that’s it, that’s what was always so fun. Always hated skirts and dresses too, the only time I “liked” wearing girly pink frilly shit was about when puberty happened and the adults WANTED me to wear that sort of thing, and I’m a huge people-pleaser so what I actually liked was making them happy. Got over that after awhile and realized I fucking loathed the clothes themselves.

And I’ve always been super lukewarm about having tits. I feel like I SHOULDN’T be, because mine are huge -- I feel like I should be, idk, proud of them or something. Never really felt like that, though. They’re just awkward and painful and get in my way. I like these things a whole lot on OTHER people, not so much on myself.

I’ve always hated wearing bras! Once I realized I was autistic, I chalked it up to a sensory thing, not liking the way they felt. They’re tight-ish, and I like baggy clothes. Well, I bought a binder recently, and have been wearing it. Heaven. It’s not uncomfortable at ALL, I love this fucking thing, though yes of course it’s tight. I just don’t care. I never expected to be so ridiculously happy when I looked in the mirror and Did Not See Tits. So I wonder, if the way they felt was maybe not the reason I hated bras so much, then...hm.

Ah fuck, this post is getting long. I’m going into so much detail in a public post like this in case my experience and viewpoint might be able to help someone else work out their own, because this shit was a fucking hell of a Nightmare Mess to figure out, but I’ll try to wrap it up now by going back to the initial point for a minute:

After Thinking About It Real Hard For A Real Long Time, what appeals to me the most about that Long-Haired Pretty Boy character type is that, essentially, what they are saying to me is “A dude can be so feminine that he's EASILY mistaken for a she, and not only is he totally unquestionably accepted by the other dudes anyway, he's usually got a TON of fangirls drooling all over him lmao, so the girls obviously accept him as a guy too.“ And I’ve always looked extremely feminine, even when I had much more muscle, though at the same time I’ve always just been “one of the dudes”. I never wear much makeup, aside from MAYBE eyeliner [makes me itchy for some reason...] and VERY occasionally some funky-coloured lipstick, which I only warmed up to after seeing characters like Jack and Kira [MFB] wearing the same sort of thing despite being male. Same situation with nail polish. Also, peacocks and the colour pink, I HATED both of those things until Jack happened and now I like both of them just fine, because it’s been reaffirmed that a colour and a bird aren’t inherently gendered shit.

In conclusion, fuck gender roles, I’m not cutting my hair and I’ll wear whatever I want. If the fruity anime boys can get away with it, so can I.

Also I can’t figure out if all of this makes me nonbinary or just a pretty dude, pigeonholes are hard and tbh I don’t like them, but...oh god, it sounds like there’s at least a possibility I am Straight White Florida Man lmfao that’s too much fucking power oh no

[13uswntimagines]

Cutie Pie (Christen x Reader)

Request: christen x reader one? Maybe where the reader has a child (1-2 years old) and the Team doesn't know. Reader and her child are at a game right behind the bench and the kid accidentally drops his paci down to the bench and the teammates there interact with them without knowing that it's christens girl? Reader also is really tall and fit and a tomboy!

“Alright half-pint, you ready for this?” You asked the little girl in your arms, bouncing her just a touch as you stepped through the stadium gates. 

“Yeah, Mama!!!” She cheered around her pacifier, staring around the stadium in awe and wiggling excitedly. 

You were happy that she loved coming to games so much, as they were kinda a big part of your life. You weren’t quite sure what you would do if she didn’t. She was your soul and a certain soccer player had your heart, and you were glad that you didn’t have to choose between the two. 

You smiled indulgently down at her and kissed her slightly chubby cheeks. “I’m glad baby,” 

She wiggled again, her little bounces getting more and more wild with every step you took in the stadium. You hadn’t really planned on having Riley, but now you couldn’t imagine your life without her and her wonder at everything around the two of you.

“Chris?” She asked as you passed a giant poster of the national team, pointing towards where your favorite forward’s blinding smile was blown up 100 times its normal size. 

You would be forever grateful for how amazing your girlfriend was with your daughter. 

She came into your life nearly a year and a half ago, and you had been extremely reluctant to introduce her to your 6 month old (You didn’t want either of them to get attached before you knew it would work out), but Christen took the role of parent very seriously. She treated your little girl like she was her own, and the two had an unbearable bond. You knew that even if things didn’t work out the way you wanted them to, Riley would always have a friend in the forward. 

“You bet. I’m sure she’s super excited to see you!” You said, glancing down at your ticket to and looking for the right section, navigating through the crowd without issue (something you were used to considering how private you and Chris were about your relationship, the only person on the team who knew about you was Tobin). 

“She score?” Riley questioned, her pacifier bobbing adorably in her mouth and her little eyebrows furrowing. 

“I’m sure she will, just for you kiddo,” You smiled, blowing a raspberry into the little girl's neck, and earning a giggle. “Now, do you think you can help me count the rows so we can get to our seats?” You asked as you passed under the sign with your section number and the pitch came into view. 

Riley nodded, puffing her little chest up. She may only be 2, but you and Christen had been working hard on her colors and numbers. She still needed help, but she was super smart for her age. 

“Alrighty then baby, let’s go,” 

*****

The team wasn’t usually this distracted. They were a group of highly competitive women who were at the top of their game, which meant that they could usually block out all of the noise from the stadium, even if it was just warmup. However, the cutest kid they had ever seen was sitting just behind the bench, being held by a very attractive lady. 

“Oh my gosh, have you seen the little girl?” Kelley asked, slinging an arm around Christen and Tobin’s shoulders, nodding towards the toddler in the stands. 

A gooey smile (something that didn’t go unnoticed by Tobin) broke across Christen’s face the second she saw her two favorite people. She noted how you had dressed the little one in the jersey she had gotten her for Christmas, a bold 23 visible every time she flashed her back towards the field. There was just something about having a part of herself visible (something tangible) on the girl she thought of as a daughter. “Yes, she’s absolutely adorable in that jersey,” 

She wiggled her fingers at the little girl who squealed excitedly and waved back. Her mom wrapped a protective arm around her belly to prevent her from accidentally wiggling under the guardrail. 

“Too bad it’s got Press’ number on it” Megan laughed, wrapping her arm around Christen’s other side, nudging the woman’s ribs. Christen rolled her eyes and shot the little girl another little wave, giggling when she bounced wildly in her mother’s arms (Christen might have also greatly appreciated the way the girl's reaction forced you to flex to prevent her from falling). 

“And her mom doesn’t look too bad either,” Ashlyn added, wiggling her eyebrows. 

The woman behind the little girl was tall, and the black ink that swirled up her arms only served to make her muscles more visible (Christen would call her drool-worthy after she finally told the team she was dating her). 

“You’re married, remember?” Ali grumbled, slapping her wife in the stomach. 

“Yeah, but If I wasn’t…” Ashlyn shrugged, cackling when Ali hit her harder. Christen frowned, suppressing a sneer. You were hers, even if the team didn’t know yet. 

Tobin smirked, gently grabbing her training outfit to prevent her from moving forward. “Come on, you can go flirt later. We have to get changed for the game,” She laughed towards Ashlyn, subtly pulling Christen towards the tunnel. 

The rest of the group laughed and followed after them. There would be plenty of time to say hi to the small child later after they had won. 

The forwards still sent another small wave towards the toddler clearly frowning now that her favorite person was walking away (she also may have winked your way just for kicks). 

*****

You could tell that Riley was having a blast. Her little hands wrapped around the bars of the railing so she could be as close to the action as possible. She waved to every player as they passed her (no matter how many times they did) and giggled exuberantly every time they waved back. 

It seemed that the team on the bench was far more interested in making your little girl laugh than watching the game (and you could only imagine how it would be when they finally realized that one of their teammates was basically her second mom). 

“Babe, you gotta stay a little away from the edge alright?” You said softly, tapping her shoulder when her little head went just a little too far through the bars. 

She definitely had your tendency to get in over her head. She ignored you, too enamored by Christen darting down the field, and shooting the ball. It sailed right past the goalie’s hands and before you could grab your little one she was leaping up and down, head still through the bars screaming “Goal!!” as loud as she could around the pacifier. But her enthusiasm caused the small object to fall out of her mouth.

“Uh oh,” Riley said, turning to you, her bottom lip trembling. 

You scooped her up, and she immediately nuzzled into your neck. “It’s ok babydoll,” you murmured into her hair, bouncing her and looking over the railing.

You leaned over the side, only to see one Kelley O’Hara holding your daughter's pacifier and rubbing her head. “Lose something?” She asked, quirking an eyebrow up at you. 

“Sorry, she got a little excited,” You said blushing a little bit. A little smirk graced Kelley’s lips you looked absolutely adorable with some red in your cheeks and paired with the backward cap it made you practically irresistible. 

“Don’t we all when Pressy scores a goal?” Megan winked up at you, wiggling her fingers at your little girl when she peeked up from your shoulder. 

“That’s fair, but she’s a very big fan,” You smiled, bouncing the little girl in your arms and blowing a raspberry just under her chin. 

“Well in that case, why don’t you two come down on the field? You know, so we can return this?” Ashlyn asked, grabbing the pacifier out of Kelley’s hand and jingling it a little. 

“What do you think babydoll?” You whispered into your daughter’s ear, as she was suddenly too shy to look at the soccer players who she had been interacting with not even minutes ago. 

“Wanna go,” she mumbled into your neck, just loud enough for the girls on the ground to hear. Kelley smiled wildly. “Well, little miss speaks after all!”

“Come to the stairs and we’ll get security to let you down. The games about to be over anyway,” Megan said, pointing towards where a little stairway was located. 

You nodded and headed in that direction, unaware of Christen’s furrowed eyebrows on the field. 

*****

“Oh my gosh, that kid is freaking adorable,” Alex said, trotting up beside Christen just as the final whistle blew. Christen turned towards where Alex was looking, awing at the sight before her. 

Riley was shyly standing behind you, clutching the back of your tank top so tightly that it was pulling down the collar (simultaneously showing off some of the swirling lines she knew spread across the skin of your shoulders). 

She would peek out to get a glance at one of the soccer players vying for her attention, and then tuck back into you the second she realized they were looking at her. 

“Isn’t she?” Christen smiled so wide her cheeks hurt. She might not be biologically related to your daughter, but she was 100% her other mom. She loved that little girl so much it hurt  (even when her pigtails were crooked- you were great at a lot of things but hair certainly wasn’t one). 

“Your gooey is showing,” Tobin said, nudging the forward. Christen opened her mouth to respond but was cut of by a very excited squeal. 

“Chris!!!” It yelled, just before a little body collided with the forward’s legs. She quickly bent down to lift the little girl up, throwing her in the air before allowing her to settle on her hip. “Missed you,”

“I missed you too babydoll,” Christen said into your daughter’s hair, holding her tight. She absolutely loved her job, but one major downside was that she couldn’t take you and Riley with her all of the time. At least she had Tobin to keep her up to date most of the time since you lived in Portland, but there was absolutely nothing like holding her two favorite people in person. 

“You better at hair and clothes,” Riley mumbled into her neck, pulling back just a bit to wave her hand around her head. You tried. You really did, but there was a reason you always kept your hair short. You weren’t into bows and frilly things, but your little girl absolutely loved them. So you did your best and were very grateful that Christen was so good with that kind of stuff. 

Christen threw her head back and laughed “I know baby,”. She rubbed Riley’s belly “Did you enjoy the game?” 

“Yeah, you score goal for me and mama,” Riley cheered and kicked her leg as if recreating the goal. Christen laughed again and began walking in your direction. “That’s right. I scored just for my favorite girls,” 

“Hey I scored too you know, and I want some baby bear hugs,” Tobin said, appearing over Christen’s shoulder. 

Riley wiggled wildly in Christen’s arms, practically throwing herself at her favorite aunt. “Aunt Toby!!” She yelled as Tobin dramatically spun her in circles. 

Christen watched the two with a wide smile, only looking away when she felt a presence beside her. 

“Hey superstar, you looked amazing out there,” your smile was evident in your voice as you wrapped your arms around Christen’s waist from behind, kissing her ear and resting your head on her shoulder. 

She signed happily and leaned back into you for a second, before spinning in your arms. “Hey darling,” she said, leaning up and placing a kiss on your lips. 

“Wait, you know Christen?” A voice appeared very close to you, and you reluctantly pulled away from your girlfriend to look at one Kelley o’hara’s wide eyes. 

“Well she’s my girlfriend, so yeah,” Christen shrugged, leaning up to kiss you again. 

You hear Kelley and several other team members sputter, but you were far too preoccupied to actually care. That was until a little voice joined the mix. 

You pulled away when you heard little feet approaching you, squatting down to catch your very excited little girl. You stood with her in your arms, unable to stop you smile when Christen wrapped her arms around the two of you. 

“Yes baby?” Christen asked, running a hand down your daughters back to try and settle her excited wiggiling just a little. 

“Mama, mommy, we go eat with aunt Toby?” Riley asked. And Christen’s sent her an indulgent smile blinking back tears (you were happy that Tobin was so accepting and great with your babygirl). Sure Christen might not have been biologically related to her, but Riley was 100% hers.

[incorrectclonewars]

at odds part.1

another maulsoka fanfic! this one is a modern au where everyone is human. sidious is a big crime lord and maul is his right-hand man to make all the bad things happen and was in a relationship with ahsoka, until she found out the things he was doing and broke up with him and moved away.

maul as a human is pale and heavily inked with tattoos, red spiky hair and dressed in all black and of course a leather jacket. ahsoka is dark skinned with vitiligo, her hair is white with blue dye, and she wears a mix between feminine and tomboy. 

warning: mentions of blood & bruises, getting beaten up and some medical help (not serious, just some normal things like when you get a scratch) . lots of angst, swearing, mentions of sex (not including the word sex) and a make-out. did i mention angst?

The dark night sky was filled with rain and thunder, exactly how she remembered it. The shabby homes and apartments, lined up and creaked with every footstep, people dressed in dark clothing - hoodies their favourite, and walked around as if they were up to no good.

Ah yes, that’s exactly how Ahsoka remembered this place which she used to call home, now coming back she wondered how she could ever imagine seeing this shit hole as somewhere to live.

The brightness on her phone had to be decreased to not strain her eyes, the messages from just an hour ago reminded her why she had such thoughts.

Oh Maul...what have you done now?

Feral had called her an hour ago in a frantic, saying Maul wasn’t himself, especially after she left and was only getting worse. He needed help, and she was the only option despite leaving him two years ago.

She could never forget the sight of those unconscious bodies and Maul standing over them, blood on his hands. But the look on his face when he saw her - it broke her heart, but after knowing that he was doing this for years she just couldn’t stay with him, and left as soon as she could.

But after hearing Feral, she knew that she needed to come back.

Her hands shook as they turned the key in the lock and hearing the click, taking a deep breath, Ahsoka walked through the door and shut it behind her. Unlike the other accommodations, the floors here didn’t creak under her feet, but that didn’t stop her from taking slow and cautious steps. 

He isn’t here, ok, that was good. She had time to prepare then. 

She went through many scenarios in her head for what she would say to Maul but none of them felt good enough, what could she say? That she was sorry for leaving, but she had to because of what he did? It was true, but it felt too blunt, too harsh.

Her feet kept moving, taking in the place she once called home. It looked...bad. Clothes on the ground, dishes in the sink, paper peeling off the walls - 

“Oh…” The chairs were broken, laid on the floor that Ahsoka can only think that they had been thrown against the wall, and knows who did it.

She doesn’t dare go any further, and fate seems to agree as the door is burst open, clanking loudly at the force and as it shuts. Ahsoka freezes only for a second before pulling herself back together, and turns.

It’s Maul, dressed in black as always, but his clothing is ripped, there’s also blood. Her eyes widen at his state, and when he see’s her, he freezes.

“Ahsoka…”

Force, she had missed her name from his lips - she had missed his voice.

“Maul…”

Shit. She can’t speak, she can’t say why she’s here and wants to help him before he stares her down with a glare.

“What are you doing here?” He asks with a harsh voice. Ahsoka expected this, yet it still hurts. “Come to gloat at how better your life is without me? How Coruscant is much better than this piece of trash?” He turns away and sits on the couch, the only furniture that hasn’t been trashed.

She sighs. “Maul -”

“Or, have you found someone else and come to rub it in my face? Tell me how much better he is than me in every single way? Oh, and the sex must be great -”

“Would you shut up and let me talk!”

He whips his head back and he stands. “Why should I? You left me!” 

“I know I did, and I’m sorry -”

“Oh your sorry? Well that makes everything better doesn’t it!” He throws his hands in the air. “Why don’t we have a little tea party and celebrate -!” A wince cuts off his rant, his attention now at his side where his hands hold. 

Ahsoka looks at him worriedly and takes a step forward. “Maul, let me help.” He opens his mouth but she’s quick. “Please. Just...Just let me help you with those wounds, I’ll answer any question you give me. Please.”

She’s begging - pleading for him, she wants to talk, to set everything right no matter how long it’ll take, but not while he’s in pain and bleeding. He stares at her with anger in his eyes, but it’s faded as he sighs and sits back down, a wave of his hand as he says. “Do what you want.”

Ok, this is good - well, the yelling may have ended, but it was far from over. 

It’s a good thing she keeps a kit in her bag, being with Anakin too long made it happen.

But first, a wet cloth.

She finds a clean one and fills up a tub with cold water, and gently sits down next to him with the bowl on the table. He doesn’t look at her, it’s hurtful but expected. She touches his arm and he tenses, and recoils back. 

“Maul,” Ahsoka begs softly. He sneers and basically slams his arm on her lap, turning his head away more and leaning his chin on the palm of his head. Ok, that was kinda childish, but she’ll leave it for now. Unlike Maul, she’s gentle as she positions his arm so that she can gently wipe and rib the blood off, new and old. 

It’s silent for a few minutes, but Ahsoka can’t hold it in any longer.

“What happened?” Her voice as soft and gentle as it could be knowing his reactions, but with a lingering tone suggesting that she wasn’t going to back down.

Maul waits longer then a minute to answer. “Just some assholes who didn’t know when to stop.”

Vague, she remembers how sometimes she would ask him something; What did he want to eat or drink? Where should they go out for the day? What does this mean? Most of the times he could give a straight answer, other times he liked to play and would be so very vague about it that it ended up in a playfully wrestling match. 

She misses those times.

Once the blood is gone she pulls out the kit of her beg and disinfects the wound before wrapping it up, then moves onto the other. There isn’t much on his arm so she finishes quickly, and moves onto his chest.

She mentions to his shirt. “You need to take this off.”

“Already trying to get into my pants?”

Ahsoka ignores the blush and heat of her body, memories of them being playful as they stripped their clothing and had fun. 

Maul threw the shirt on the table and Ahsoka didn’t really care to tell him off, her thoughts on the semi-battered chest before her.

There are small cuts and bruises that won’t do any damage so they get done fast, some others take longer, but they are treated nevertheless. The one that made him wince was big, more bruised then the rest but had no blood - he was kicked there, perhaps. 

She taps it gentle. “Someone got a hit.”

“He paid for it greatly.”

She almost doesn’t want to know. “Please tell me you -”

“I didn’t kill him.” Maul cuts her off. “Rest assured, his body as well as his friends are just having a hard time getting to the hospital. They’ll make it.”

Swallowing the sigh of relief, a part of her cheers that they’re still alive, but she can’t avoid Maul’s actions in the matter. He still did what he did, it was wrong and she can’t push that away. 

She finishes cleaning and disinfecting it, now it’s time to wrap it up. 

Ahsoka pulls him to sit forward, there’s a grumble on his lips that dies as soon as she begins to wrap the first roll around his torso. Her job right now is to help his wounds, but her eyes can’t help but avert to his hardened chest that was almost covered by black ink. 

She remembers laying with him in bed in the afterglow of their first night and tracing the lines of his tattoos, each one having a story that she listened to as he told her. He was warm and held her tightly as he kissed her forehead and smiled at her so lovingly.

If only she didn’t see that night, that would still be happening, but she would have found out eventually and done the same thing. 

Better now that later they always say.

The bandage now done, Ahsoka ties it up tight to keep it from falling. “You need to change these everyday, wash your cuts, wounds and bruises before you put a new one back on. Also change them if they get dirty or wet. I’ll leave this here -”

“Why did you leave?”

The question fills the air with tension and freezes the young woman. Ahsoka knew he would ask that, she’s surprised it wasn’t the first thing that came out of his mouth when he saw her, but he must have been too shocked to see her here. 

Letting the roll of bandage fall to the table, Ahsoka sits back but doesn’t look at him. “When I saw you that night, everything started to make sense. The times you were out, the plans having to be cancelled because you had more work to do and the strange hours you worked. At first I thought that you were seeing someone else, but I knew you weren’t that kind of person.” Hands together, her fingers brush and twiddle against each other. “I saw the name Sidious on your contacts and overheard you say his name a few times, along with some other things that didn’t sound good, but I trusted you. That night you said that you were going to be late again so I thought I would cook a nice dinner, and then I saw you, and everything just clicked together.”

She had done some research on the name after she saw that scene and found tie-ins to violent attacks, gangs and criminal organisations. He had people all around the city doing his bidding, and looking at one hooded figure, she was filled with a feeling of familiarity, and was horrified for it to be Maul.

“You could have stayed here, and wait for me to come back and explain.”

“I could have, but I was scared. I needed to get away from it all and sort everything out.”

“And did you?” His tone was still angry, but curious. 

Ahsoka shook her head. She didn’t really figure anything out when she left, all her thoughts were on Maul. “No, all I could think about….was you.” Finally she turns to him to see the widen of his eyes, clearly not expecting an answer like that. She’s waiting for him to glare, yell and scream like before, even threatening her to get out - 

She gasps when he touches her cheek, his fingers gently brushing over the skin. He’s staring at her and she can’t help but fall to those eyes, she didn’t realise they had moved closer until his nose was just inches away from her own.

“I missed you.” 

“...I missed you too.” He says in a whisper with a look of brokenness, her heart clenches, and when he cups her cheek, she leans into the touch.

Maul shifts closer, a knee between her legs. 

It’s like watching in slow motion, knowing what’s about to come, but she gives no resistance as his lips cover her own

Ahsoka’s hands find their way to his body, one on his arm and the other over his hand on her cheek as she pulls him closer.

Force - it feels so good, so natural, so much like home.

Maul growls and presses further, his hands moving to her coat and pushing it down, she allows him to throw it off her, His hands on her waist and rubbing against her clothing, and she can’t help but moan and melt under it all. 

Before Ahsoka knows it, she’s pushed on her back and Maul’s hands are all over her, drinking her in until they get underneath her shirt. She breaks the kiss to moan and lavishes at his lips on her neck as his hands rise and reach her bra to squeeze her breasts.

No. This is wrong. They shouldn’t be doing this.

“Maul -”

“Shhh.” He purrs at her ear, the hit of his breath causing goosebumps. “Don’t talk, just feel, and moan.” 

He nibbles along her shoulder and for a few seconds she gives in, then gently pushes at his shoulder. 

“No...Maul, stop.”

Thankfully he does, and he leans up to look down at her with a cocked eyebrow. 

Ahsoka lets out a breath. “We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” He frowns at her, and for a moment she thinks of just giving in, to let herself sink into this pleasure and deal with all of this in the morning. But that would only make things worse. 

“Because, we’re not…we’re not together anymore.”

He stares at her a bit long for her liking, then sneers and pulls away, she sits up as fast as she can and looks at the heavily tattooed and bruised man.

A part of her regrets her choice to stop it, but it was the right thing to do.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers. What more could she say to him? 

His fists clench and teeth gritted, but he looks away from her, and says in the most broken and angry voice she has ever heard. “Just go.”

Her heart breaks, she’s so tempted to get closer and touch him again, to stay, but both were bad options right now. 

It would be best if she left.

“Ok.” She says a bit louder then a whisper, and packs her things away before picking up her coat and putting it back on. She grabs her bag and heads to the door, pausing on handle. “My number hasn’t changed,” Her voice now louder, enough for him to hear from the distance. “Please, contact me if you need anything.”

She’s met with silence, and takes that as her que to leave.

 ----------------------------------------------------------------

She holds it all in on the way home, as she puts her shoes at the doorway and walks to her room, putting the bag down at her desk and changing into pyjamas. When she hits the bed does she let all her feelings out, all the crying and whispered sorry’s in her head.

I fucked up.

And she doesn’t know how the hell to fix it.  

[fizzingwizard]

So I’m sure you’re ALL on tenterhooks to find out what I thought of episode 36... the answer is.... LOVED IT!!!! No I really did. If you like Taishiro friendship, this is an essential episode to watch. Doesn’t blow me out of the water, but still just good.

Although Taichi has a big something to do as usual, it’s still very much a Koushirou episode. FREAKING YAY. I have a dozen thoughts about it, and what bugs me the most, of course, is how we needed this episode AGES ago ugh. But we’ve now had two or three episodes in a row that have actually felt like Digimon Adventure, so perhaps all that finger-crossing is working?

They could unravel all that good work in a minute by never addressing it again... or not letting Koushirou show his personality unless it’s his “turn” for an episode from here on... but you know, I will cross that bridge when we come to it.

Pic of the day:

“I don’t like people. But they are occasionally useful.” - 2020 Izumi Koushirou’s life lesson, lmao

*The red strip at the top is about the big earthquake that hit Eastern Japan yesterday. It’s annoying to have it there for the entire episode - usually they only stick around for a couple minutes - but this WAS a large earthquake. It caused many people to lose power. So making sure everyone knows what’s going takes precedence over Sunday morning cartoons. (I’m in Osaka and didn’t even feel it, but my friends in Tokyo prefecture very much did.)

Lots and LOTS of ranting from a rabid Taishiro fan under the cut!

(also I didn’t check for typos so. yeah)

The episode starts right off by assuring us this is a Koushirou episode. We get the trademark Izumi Koushirou floating in the void of space sequence, which is excellent and very encouraging framing.

Koushirou Kenobi: “Use the force, Taichi.”

Taichi: “Use it yourself.”

(the episode in a nutshell)

The initial thing that bugged me - okay, so the kids got separated for the umpteenth time many episodes ago, and since then we’ve stuck to Taichi like barnacles. The only glimpses we’d get of the other kids showed: Yamato running towards something, Koushirou flying towards something while researching the satellite malfunction, Jou in the hot springs, and Mimi at the crystal caves. For Jou and Mimi, I don’t care, because they never tried to move, but Yamato and Koushirou were constantly moving. Yet, in the end, it’s Taichi’s group that catches up with Koushirou, rather than the other way around. It DOES make sense - it seems like Koushirou told them to “meet at the giant gold pillar” because that’s where they needed to be to save the world, so it became the rendezvous point. But it just bugs me because, once again, all the activity is on Taichi’s side. But that’s a minor quibble. The end result is still THIS:

More of the team is together!!! Taichi and Koushirou are together!!! Yaaayy!!!

... the betting pool for how long it will be till the next separation is now open >.>

Poor Komodomon’s long mop dog fur is so dirty. “Fizz his fur always looks like that.” He’s tracking mud everywhere. “Fizz look at his ears his fur is supposed to look that way.” Next episode - everyone gives Komondomon a bath.

So the start of this episode is just a bunch of talking about how dire things are with the satellite situation. I’m not gonna bother translating. Watch the sub when it’s out if you really want to know :P The important thing is, the gold pillar is directly causing the malfunction, no one on Earth can stop the satellite from plummeting to Tokyo, the city is being evacuated, and there are only 20 minutes till impact.

Koushirou has an elaborate plan which Sora adorably sums up as “So, we’re gonna shoot it out of the sky *makes punching motion*”

The crux of Koushirou’s plan hinges on a repeat of how Omegamon saved Tokyo from the missile way back in like, episode 2 or 3. Taichi says, “Yeah, but I barely remember how we did that.” Which is hilarious because I don’t remember either because it was 30 EPISODES AGO. Once again this episode feels like it was meant to happen WAY EARLIER THAN IT DID. It’s just weird to be referencing something that happened 30 episodes ago after everything else that’s happened, AND on top of that, there are many references in this episode and none from later than like, episode 10 or 12. Making this all seem very oddly timed.

I’m not quite sure if, within the story itself, it matters that Taichi ��doesn’t remember well.” He also doesn’t remember the Devimon battle where he and Agumon were infected with dark energy. That one makes sense for him not to remember. If that hadn’t happened, I would just take his “I don’t remember how we stopped the missile” to just mean it was so long ago. But together, it’s making me wonder if something else is going on.

Or maybe Taichi’s just been hit on the head one too many times (okay, that seems the most likely of all, haha)

People of Tokyo: Is it Godzilla again? I heard he’s itching to fight King Kong. You know, given how often our city is attacked by kaiju, some might wonder why we haven’t moved away by now. But home is home, ya know?

The group sets up to fly to the peak of the gold pillar. Obviously, without Yamato, there’s no Omegamon. No one points this out, but Koushirou seems very stressed with his plan, and it seems that he contacted Taichi in the first place because he thought “Taichi’s the one who can pull this off.”

After hearing the plan, Taichi shoots him through the heart with another “Koushirou, you’re so awesome!” and YAY I MISSED THIS SO MUCH!!!!!! *sobs*

Then he does his best to reassure Koushirou by remaining positive and determined that they can and will do this no matter how much Koushirou waves. The majority of the episode is them flying up the pillar while being assaulted by enemies trying to stop them, so it’s not like they get to talk about their feelings (lol). But at least we get a bunch of close ups of Koushirou’s and Taichi’s expressions, and that’s how we see this dynamic in play. Yes, Koushirou is the brainy one who made the plan, but he doesn’t have the confidence to take the lead, so he handed the reins to Taichi. As for Taichi - yes he has the confidence, yes he can do it... but he also has absolute faith in Koushirou. So that’s why this episode makes my little Koushirou fanatic heart skip a beat.

First of the enemies is this guy, aptly named BladeKuwagamon.

They’re actually pretty scary! They do real damage. (Blood in Digimon word is glowy unicorn-like stuff haha). Birdramon gets stabbed, but before Sora can get too upset, she just yanks the blade out of her chest...

... and then crushes it into dust with her beak.

Sora: Holy crap, my partner is metal AF.

Forgot to mention earlier but 5 whole minutes of the 20 minute countdown are used up just by digivolving apparently xD Taichi keeps asking Koushirou “how much time is left” and Koushirou’s panic grows more visible with each passing second...

MetaLiffeKuwagemon looks cooler than he is. Supposedly he’s there to bring out the big guns, but to be honest...

... the BladeKuwagamon don’t seem to need the help :P The enemy’s strategy is obvious: isolate each member of the team to prevent anyone from getting to the top. This is why Koushirou’s so stressed: he’s got a plan that is totally reliant on there being a leader strong enough to pull it off AND there being enough backup to protect that leader from the large number of enemies. And Koushirou doesn’t like these odds.

Garudamon gets stabbed AGAIN

Sora: Go on, we’ll be fine.

Taichi: Are you sure??

Garudamon: *DESTROYS EVERYTHING WITH FIRE*

I MEAN HONESTLY! Garudamon is not only my favorite of Piyomon’s evolutions, it’s pretty much my favorite Adventure evolution. Always has been since I was 11 years old. And she (and Sora) NEVER get that credit. Like. Growing up, with US dub Adventure, I interpreted Sora as more of a straight up tomboy than she is in the original. That’s okay, that’s whatever, but what was most important to me was that I saw her as the third “strong” member along with Taichi and Yamato. Those two were clearly in a class above her, but I saw her as being in the same “Taiorato” league. Garudamon seemed to prove that: she was so cool, so powerful, and... yeah, I just always thought she had so much potential to be awesome and never got why it wasn’t used. That’s also why I was disappointed in Tri - like, I liked Soushitsu, but I just wanted more from Sora’s arc. Same thing in Kizuna: I understand Sora’s arc, I don’t hate it or anything - I think it makes sense for her. But since I wanted something different for her all those years ago, it just left me feeling a bit flat.

but enough about other Digimon series :P Garudamon gets to be super cool here and I only hope we get to see more of it in this reboot. I’ll forgive it some of its other mistakes if we do :D

With Takeru/Hikari and Sora isolated by the BladeKuwagamon, it’s up to Taichi and Koushirou alone to race against the clock! Their teeth are clenched, sweat runs in rivulets down their skin, their hearts are pounding in desperation...

Koushirou: Taichi-san! If we don’t get to the top soon it’ll be too late!

Taichi: Just don’t call me late for dinner!

Koushirou: ASDFGHJKL;’ DAD JOKES NOW?? REALLY????????

MetaLiffeKuwagamon makes life that much harder by knocking them against the pillar. However, this is a pillar of data, which enabled the BladeKuwagamon to evolve into MetaLiffeKuwagamon in the first place. Bugs aren’t that bright.

Taichi and MetalGreymon are nearly submerged inside the pillar as a result, and then we get this sequence of red and black. The pillar had been emitting dark lightning, so I started to think... omg... is MetalGreymon gonna get a Dark Evolution???????

.... Nah. That would have made sense, but.... nah :P

Overall I’m glad though, because that would really have turned this into a Taichi episode instead of a Koushirou one.

I’m not personally certain what the point of bringing BlitzGreymon out was. I had figured he would be like, a super fast evolution that would enable them to make it to the top. That would also have turned this into a Taichi episode. But...

... Taichi tells Koushirou that he will have to go divert the satellite because Taichi has to deal with MetaLiffeKuwagamon.

I was both really pleased and really surprised. Because, again, now what’s the point of BlitzGreymon...? Why did we need a new Agumon evolution? There’s no particular reason why they couldn’t have just isolated Taichi with the enemy the same way the others were and had him tell Koushirou to keep going on his own then. They did do that, but first they gave him a new evolution. Why? Just because it’s cool?? I assume that must be the reason but we don’t even see BlitzGreymon fight xD It’s... it’s weird. But whatever.

Taichi: Go, Koushirou!!!!! You can do it!!!!!

Fiz: *dies a thousand brilliant deaths*

So, Koushirou tells Taichi that he can’t do it - he can support Taichi, but he can’t take the lead. Taichi’s just like that’s wack, dude, of course you can do it. What I LOVE about Taichi and Koushirou’s dynamic is just that: Taichi never sees Koushirou as a weakling. The fact that he’s small, or that he’s brains over brawn, or even that he’s kinda antisocial - those are all reasons an energetic, extroverted kid like Taichi might bully, or at least think poorly, of Koushirou.

But Taichi values Koushirou. He knows how hard he works and is impressed both by that hard work and his talent. What’s more, he doesn’t see Koushirou’s brains as his support system. The whole time Koushirou’s thinking he’s there to support Taichi with his plan, Taichi was thinking, “I’m here to support Koushirou’s plan.” That is SO, SO important. And that’s why I LOVE this episode. The one thing the reboot seemed to really understand, that hooked me from the start, was the way it just GOT Taichi and Koushirou. They each support and follow each other, while each feeling like the other is better than them. Ugh I could like, cry over Taishiro now... omg....

Taichi is successful in pushing Koushirou to go on, but of course Koushirou himself is still plagued with doubts. He reflects on how he’s always been fine being alone. He hasn’t particularly wanted friends and didn’t mind not having them, even though adults worried.

(Side note: this is a normal, if kinda rare, personality trait. I have it too. I always score Koushirou on “what Digimon character are you?” tests too lmao. Just like some people feel the need to be surrounded by others at all times, there are those whose social needs are very very low. I’m one of them. There’s nothing wrong with it except that even those people can get lonely and it’s easy to misunderstand them as shy or snobby. So what I love about Koushirou is, yes he learns to value his relationships more, but also learns to value himself. He is Koushirou: a brainy kid who’s happy on his own, but also happy with friends. While some people, like Mimi, struggle with that aspect of his personality, others, like Taichi, just accept it. To me that’s the best life lesson there is: there are always people who can and will be friends with you. Yes, I’ve lost friends because I just wasn’t social enough for them. But I have other friends who I’ve known for literal decades now. And I REALLY love those friends.)

Koushirou feels grateful that he has AlturKabuterimon, and also that he has Taichi. So... here he is, reflecting on the last time he had meaningful interaction with that great friend Taichi... back in episode three. -____________-

Seriously, this would mean a lot more if this dynamic had been built on continually until this episode...

Koushirou then briefly reflects on each of the other Chosen. Notably, every single solo image of them is from an episode that Koushirou either wasn’t in or wasn’t with them at the moment. Then we get this group image. It’s from EPISODE 12. (I’m actually not sure of the episode number but the point is, it’s from A LONG LONG TIME AGO. I think it’s the swamp episode??) That drives me NUTS. We shouldn’t have to reach soooo far back to find meaningful moments!!! Urk.

Koushirou makes it to the peak of the pillar and AlturKabuterimon attacks the satellite to drive it off course. We see the impression of what looks to be HerculesKabuterimon and I really thought we’d get an evolution - it seemed way more appropriate than freaking BlitzGreymon - but nope.

Oh well. Koushirou still saves the day. The people at home get to see the Crest of Knowledge take over their screens, hopefully giving rise to the idea that a nerd superhero is protecting them. Koushirou is the hero we deserve.

The satellite falls into the water. I was like, shouldn’t that cause a tsunami lol?

... be careful what you wish for >_>;

fortunately people were evacuated soooo things will be okay.

He did it!! He’s so happy! AlturKabuterimon’s triumphant holler is adorable.

Taichi and BlitzGreymon fought hard OFF SCREEN!! OFF SCREEN!! HIP HIP HOORAY! And then we get to see him leaning on Sora T_T could this episode give me any more perfect moments?? Looooove it

So yeah, if you can’t tell, I’m thrilled with this episode. There are just a couple things I would have liked to improve: better animation, at least one palpable heart to heart between Taichi and Koushirou, or just a bit more time spent explictly in Koushirou’s head - but honestly we got something that is pretty darn good, especially for this reboot. I hope we do get more like this, both for Koushirou and for the others. I hope the growth here isn’t forgotten moving forward. I really, REALLY want to see more of that “I lead, you support me - you lead, I support you” mutually beneficial relationship that is the foundation of Taishiro <3

So next week! Mimi’s back and the heads are gonna roll!

Lmao!

My theory that she’s finding crystals to make Crests seems unlikely to be the case now that we know the rocks constract the rock Digimon. But... hey, we’ll find out next week.

Also Taichi’s gonna make this face after talking with Mimi bahahahaha. I can’t wait.

[far-off-flower-fields]

Weird Questions that say a lot

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans? Teacups!

2. chocolate bars or lollipops? Lollipops

3. bubblegum or cotton candy? Cotton candy

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you? We call elementary school primary school. It depended which teachers you asked, my favourites always said I was “conscientious, kind, and a pleasure to have in class”.

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups? Glass cups or bottles.

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear? I have like 4 looks, pastel, boho, and goth/witchy/grunge, also vintage-inspired which wasn’t mentioned but I love it.

7. earbuds or headphones? Depends on the shape, I love my Razr headset because it doesn’t squash my ears, and I like galaxy bud shaped earbuds, the ones with the little rubber doo-dads that fit actually in your ear. Apple or a lot of older flat earbuds cause me a lot of pain.

8. movies or tv shows? TV shows. Movies are getting longer and longer and my focus is getting shorter and shorter

9. favorite smell in the summer? Rainy days!

10. game you were best at in p.e.? The game of queue-ducking (where you go to the back of the queue to avoid your turn), or dance, or the less strength intensive parts of gymnastics. Or crying, always been great at that xD

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day? Muesli, or nothing.

12. name of your favorite playlist? I prefer to listen to full albums rather than playlists, but I have a few favourites on Spotify. Born to Run 150BPM, Infinite Indie Folk, Irish Folk: Jigs and Reels, All Out 80s/90s/00s. I also love scene/pop-punk playlists.

13. lanyard or key ring? Key Ring

14. favorite non-chocolate candy? Message Hearts (or anything with that texture), the red pack of starbursts (the UK version is vegan). Does Turkish Delight count because if so then that is my fave. I also like gummies if they’re vegan.

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment? To Kill a Mockingbird (high school), or The Bloody Chamber (uni), or Hamlet (uni)

16. most comfortable position to sit in? One foot under me, the other foot out to the other side, but both in the same position (if the surface is flat), or knees up.

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes? I own a lot of shoes so there isn’t really a single pair I wear the most. Recently my Air Force 1s, I’m trying to wear them in because the previous owner didn’t so the cause blisters.

18. ideal weather? Cold, overcast, rainy, still. Or without the rain. or snow (as long as I’m not going in the car and I can go crunch my shoes in it xD

19. sleeping position? Either side, but my body is kinda rotated towards the bed so it’s like half way between on my stomach and on my side. 

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)? Notebooks

21. obsession from childhood? Animals, dinosaurs, goddesses, magic, crystals, neopets, sims. I still love all of these things, I am a rotating door of obsessions, usually a bunch of the same obsessions on repeat.

22. role model? I don’t have one particular role model, I do have tons of people that I love and respect.

23. strange habits? I have so many strange habits that I have become one myself. Nothing actually stands out though because 99% of it is because of my brain.

24. favorite crystal? rose quartz or moonstone.

25. first song you remember hearing? Maybe Dancing Queen by ABBA, definitely the first I remember dancing to, but my dad loves music so I grew up with a constant stream of it.

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather? Suffer xD when I’m able to do so comfortably I’d love to go out looking for pretty stones, and nice sticks with my fiance, also would like to go on picnics with him, or a friend if I had one.

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather? Baking, drawing, crafts, standing in the rain. Everything.

28. five songs to describe you? 6/10 - Dodie Robert Frost - Mal Blum Caught in the Middle - Paramore Side Effects - Jade Bird Snitches Get Stitches - Onsind  Bonus track: The Seed - Aurora I wish I still had the playlist I made of songs I relate to, several of these were on it though.

29. best way to bond with you? Oversharing, or telling me about things you’re into.

30. places that you find sacred? Nature. My favourite spots are little creeks/rivers in wooded areas, but just like, all of it is special and should be treated as such. Also bedrooms.

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names? I think maybe I’m not gutsy or whatever enough, but also unpredictable. I wear whatever I like, and I’m just as likely to cry in all of them as I am to accidentally get in a fight.

32. top favorite vines? I feel so basic because I never really did the vine thing.  There was one that nearly killed me because I literally started to choke that was in some kind of office and the bit like can you run this past me again, and they just fucking legged it past them holding a folder up, Saw it once, never saw it again. Road work ahead. Why you can’t lift a house (might be a tok?) Brass dad and oven kid Look at this graaaaph Never learned how to read I can’t sit I have hemorrhoids The one with the people in blankets bobbing the nana nanana song Fr esh avo ca do Look at all these chickens

33. most used phrase in your phone? I love you - if I had to guess

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head? right now, nothing. I often get the old Super Liquor jingle lodged in there though.

35. average time you fall asleep? 6am?

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing? Charlie the unicorn or that one Noodles video by Cyanide and Happiness. Are those even memes?

37. suitcase or duffel bag? Depends. I mostly use a bag though since I never go anywhere for long.

38. lemonade or tea? Tea? Usually if you ask for lemonade here you get Sprite which is not lemonade.

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie? I had a vegan lemon meringue pie once, so good. Cake is easier to make though, and I can eat more in one sitting without getting sick xD

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school? Um, the principal in my last year of school got caught for being a peeping tom a few years after I left.

41. last person you texted? My Fiance.

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets? Jacket pockets

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket? Depends on the rest of the outfit and the weather. I wear Jean jackets most though.

44. favorite scent for soap? I love lavender, or vanilla/candy/fruity/baked goods type scents. I still have a bottle of Sugar Fairy spray from lush from a year ago and I love the smell of that.

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero? Fantasy I think.

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in? Nekkid?

47. favorite type of cheese? As a kid it was feta. Now I only eat vegan cheese. I was never a huge cheese fan tbh.

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be? Rotten xD um probably a cranberry or something because I’m small, and I’m not a fan of cranberry.

49. what saying or quote do you live by? An it harm none do what you will. Or treat others as you wish to be treated.

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have? Probably one of the vines I listed above, either “run it past” or “can’t lift a house” because both of those resulted in crying and choking.

51. current stresses? My cat has been throwing up and having diarrhoea the past week or so, she’s been to the vet, it got better for a bit, but tonight suddenly got worse. Living with my parents who I have a very toxic relationship with. Living in a single very overfilled room. Trying to not spend money so that I can save up to move next year. Nightmares about my trauma. Either the house is haunted or there’s a build up of negative energy (probably that).

52. favorite font? I always liked the look of all of the script style fonts (freestyle, french, lucida, lucida calligraphy, Edwardian, Palace) but they’re not accessible so for anything people will actually see (which is literally nothing) I always go with arial.

53. what is the current state of your hands? Slight rash on one finger because I’m sensitive to what is in a lot of hand washing products apparently (never an issue until the pandemic), one broken finger nail that is a bit shorter than the rest. Not painted nails because energy. I always wear my engagement ring, usually I wear several other rings but with how my skin is being I thought I’d better not for a while.

54. what did you learn from your first job? Bakeries are hell, my circadian rhythm will not adjust to anything besides its natural state for longer than a couple of days at a time no matter how long or hard I try. I can absolutely fall asleep standing up.

55. favorite fairy tale? Ugly Duckling

56. favorite tradition? I don’t have anyway... Yet? Hopefully when I move this can become a thing.

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome? I’m interpretting overcome loosely here, meaning “I have not died from this” - Suicide of my first love - Bullying - 3 different jobs that all nearly killed me

58. four talents you’re proud of having? Literally can’t think of one. I’m not talented. I’m passable at a couple of things, but I worked for those things and I’m still not good enough for anyone to confuse me for being talented xD Those things I care about that I’ve worked on a lot are singing, art, languages, crafts? I still struggled to come up with 4. My bad.

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be? Aw jeez xD

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be? Magical Girl! This is an easy one, give me the powers and the clothes yessss.

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.? Literally sitting here drawing a blank, so instead of favourite here is the first one that came into my head “eyes are the genitals of the head” (may have that wrong, I’m watching the Office for the first time rn)

62. seven characters you relate to? Clementine from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind Amelie from Amelie Matilda from Matilda Quasimodo from the Hunchback of Notredame (also my favourite plush as a kid) Iris - The Holiday Jess - New Girl Amelia Shepherd - Grey’s Anatomy Struggled with this because suddenly I drew a blank and also couldn’t remember who my Fiance was talking about every time he’s watched a character and said “that’s you” repeatedly.

63. five songs that would play in your club? Starlight - Superman Lovers Pump It - Black Eyed Peas I Bet that You Look Good on the Dancefloor - Arctic Monkeys All the Things She Said - tATu Doctor Jones - Aqua Bonus: Push Up - Freestylers These are ones  I have memories of dancing to when I was younger so that’s how I picked, but I’d absolutely be a themed night club with different music on different nights.

64. favorite website from your childhood? Neopets, which I still play daily. The first I played was MaMaMedia, then Bubblegum Club.

65. any permanent scars? That’s a SORE subject heh get it heh

66. favorite flower(s)? Lavender, rose, peony

67. good luck charms? I usually carry gemstones if I’m needing to be particularly lucky, or sigils.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried? I hate anything spicy. I had rootbeer candy that tasted like literal dirt. I can’t eat banana stuff without gagging and getting a headache. I hate anything that is artificial blackberry or blackcurrant, tastes like shitty cough syrup.

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned? Sea Monkeys breathe through their feet, but I remember where I learned that.

70. left or right handed? right

71. least favorite pattern? depends entirely on the colours, I like patterns. but certain stripes do make my eyes feel funny.

72. worst subject? If PE counts, then that. If not, math.

73. favorite weird flavor combo? I love pineapple on pizza but that’s not weird. Iused to eat cheese and jam sandwiches as a kid though.

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen? I operate on how long it has lasted instead of how bad it is, essentially I get so desperate so I’ll try it even though it probably won’t help. I have the resistance of a rhino to most meds.

75. when did you lose your first tooth? No idea, like 4 I think? I did keep them in a weird little box for no reason though because they never got taken away from under my pillow.

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)? I’m a fan of a good mash if it has lots of flavour (like gravy). Otherwise, crisps or fries.

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill? I grew a radish once! Something cat safe though these days, also maybe something heavy, and hard to knock over?

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store? Grocery Store sushi, if it’s just veg.

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo? My only ID is my passport, and it is BAD.

80. earth tones or jewel tones? Both.

81. fireflies or lightning bugs? Fireflies (ten million of them to be precise)

82. pc or console? Grew up with PC. Now play my switch mostly.

83. writing or drawing? Both. Wrote more as a kid, draw more now.

84. podcasts or talk radio? Podcasts.

84. barbie or polly pocket? Both. But I prefered pollies as a kid

85. fairy tales or mythology? mythology

86. cookies or cupcakes? cupcakes

87. your greatest fear? Based on my nightmares, stairs.

88. your greatest wish? To live in a comfy house, in the country, with my Fiance, I have travelled the world, we have pets, I can function, we are free.

89. who would you put before everyone else? My Fiance and out animals.

90. luckiest mistake? Can’t think of any, most of my mistakes have been more like bad choices, also never turned out well for me.

91. boxes or bags? Depends what it’s for?

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights? lamps, or fairy lights. Unless I’m particularly anxious, then overheads.

93. nicknames? None.

94. favorite season? Winter

95. favorite app on your phone? LINE, it has my fiance, and animated stickers.

96. desktop background? Little Twin Stars

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized? My own.

I never get asks and needed to distract myself so I’m going to just answer these anyway, like a survey or something. Original post by tr33-g1rl 

[sayaratyriea]

i woke up this morning with A LOT of feelings about winx club, so I decided to try my hand at some redesigns!! this show meant a lot to me growing up, but I always had issues with the ways some of the characters (ESPECIALLY stella) were portrayed, and the costumes in the first two seasons were really boring and strange? & they had same-body syndrome, which I didn’t like. so I’ve taken it upon myself to IMPROVE some things!!!

justifications under the cut :)

BLOOM: I love Bloom. I’m one of those people who does, genuinely like the protagonists best, because I’m basic and easily led. That being said, though, I feel like her original design doesn’t match up with the way the show insists that she’s ultra special and the best and has this big cool magic... my redesign just gives her outfit a little more flair. Bloom is now the shortest member of the Winx Club, but there’s a lot of kick in that small package. Her outfit has some neat angles and pointy bits to evoke dragon claws and scales--I mean come on, her power is the dragon fire and we’re just going to ignore that? Also her hair is flames because aesthetic. Her ears are a little pointy, and her teeth are a little sharp, but not so much that she doesn’t still pass well enough for human... 

STELLA: Stella. Wow. Obviously she’s undergone the most changes in design, and that’s mostly because I freaking HATED her as a kid. She’s kind of stuck up and annoying, she’s a dumb blonde, she’s the Shopping One, and also her design just never worked for me in general. In my redesign, Stella is the first fairy Bloom meets, and the first alien. She could pass for human if she really wanted to, but the glowing orange eyes and shimmery skin (it looks like she took a bath in bronzer!!) stand out. She stands out in general by being, like, over six feet tall without heels on. She shines like the sun! I made her look Black partially because I just think orange looks so much better on dark skin, and partially because she is still the fashionista and I love the idea of her having like 20 thousand different hairstyles. You can do so much stuff with Black hair. (Also also, it’s dumb that Layla/Aisha is basically the only dark-skinned character in the entire show.) My Stella’s also a bit less annoying, I like to think that she’s just in general a big sweetheart. Show!Stella was... iffy about that sometimes. 

MUSA: With this redesign I mostly just wanted to make more callbacks to her cultural heritage. In the original show, her world is very Chinese-inspired, so I gave her a cheongsam-y dress. I think it suits her. I also gave her those combat boots to show some personality. I don’t have a lot to say here. She has pointy ears because she’s an alien. 

TECNA: Ugh, Tecna. Listen, I know some people love the hat. I am not one of those people. Bye-bye, hat. Tecna was always really neglected by the show, so I’ve designed her with a bit more detail... she’s a cyborg, she’s constantly keyed into the fairy internet, she’s really smart, and... yeah, that’s my motivation. Also, the old jumpsuit was SUPER BORING. Let Tecna be the tomboy she deserves to be. Also, she’s green. 

FLORA: She’s soft and round now because it’s cute. She’s probably the closest to the original of the squad, all I really did was change her body type and make the costume a little more floral-looking and less revealing?

LAYLA/AISHA: Big strong arm muscles for giving big strong hugs!!! I grew up calling her Layla and you can’t stop me. I’m not totally in love with this look, but I figure it’s dumb to have landwalkers ruling an ocean planet, so I tried to give her some kinda.. weird neck fin things? And she’s got that sort of sporty tomboy adventure vibe, so I amplified that with an outfit that looks like an athletic swimsuit, and put her hair up out of her face in a high pony. She still has wedge heels though... why? Because I like them. And because I think she likes to be tall. HC that she can make them come and go as she pleases. 

[flourchildwrites]

Hi, If you are still taking prompts, would you mind writing fictober "Ruins" for Havolina? :)

Witch, Please!  Fictober 2019  (27/30)

A multi-fandom Fictober prompt compilation.  Your wish is my command, but be careful what you ask for.  You just might get it.

For @tomoehawkeye

Prompt:  “Ruins” from Writetober 2019 Prompt List

Fandom:  Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)

Relationship/Pairing:  Rebecca Catalina/Jean Havoc

Genre:  Alternate Universe - Practical Magic, Witches and Family Curses, High School Sweethearts

Rating:  Teen And Up Audiences

Word Count:  1,566 words

Read on AO3

The Catalina women were blamed for everything that went wrong in their small island town, but it was, perhaps, the men they loved who suffered the most. The curse was well-known, less a legend and more a source of gossip that sprang eternal when the rumor mill ran dry. And yet, for cousins Riza and Rebecca, the plague on their household was all too real.

Too real when their fathers died sudden and mysterious deaths. Too real when their mothers took their leave, courtesy of broken hearts that refused to mend.

By the time young Rebecca arrived at the wrought iron gates of Stonybrook Cottage, Riza had already settled in. She was the spitting image of her mother, Aunt Elizabeth, with wispy blonde hair, copper eyes and a pale heart-shaped face. Though pretty, her cousin was tomboy through and through, smelling perpetually of fresh-cut grass and more than willing to beat local boys at their own games when a competitive mood stuck.

Appropriately, Rebecca quickly proved herself to be her cousin’s complement. Bold where Riza was shy but charming where her cousin was prone to confrontation, they got along as only two halves of a whole could. And while Riza was fair and lithe, Rebecca grew into the curves of her tan complexion and leaned into the power of a pair of dark bedroom eyes that stopped people in their tracks.

Under the old roof of Stonybrook Cottage, the cousins claimed their birthright courtesy of two ageless aunts who mirrored the girls’ contrast. Aunt Maria lectured long about astrology, signs and art of spellcraft while Aunt Olivier exclusively taught the subtle science of potion-making and dabbled in the occasional duel. High school existed also, and Rebecca thought the place a bore, punctuated frequently by childish whispers, taunting rhymes and hateful scribbles on the bathroom stalls.

Rebecca Catalina ❤’s Jean HavocRest in Pieces, Jean

“Who did it?” Riza bellowed, aware that their entire gym class (sans Rebecca) was in on the joke.

Unforthcoming giggles emanated from the gaggle of girls still present in the locker room, not one woman enough to own the egregious act. They hid their sneers behind ramrod straight fringes of hair and hands pressed to their mouths.

“Riza,” Rebecca warned. She grabbed her cousin’s arm as she felt the hex gathering on the tip of her tongue. “It isn’t worth it. Besides, Jean and I are just friends.”

“Friends who suck face under the bleachers,” Patricia Parkinson grumbled. “So sad that Jean has a death wish.”

Between Rebecca and Riza, it wasn’t always clear who was the witch to blame, least of all to the students and faculty of the Southaven High. But when the locker room mirrors began to tremble and the faucets popped off the pipes, spewing water over the offending girls and their belongings, Coach Sheska was forced to concede that the dry parties were the most likely culprits.

“Nice one,” Riza offered. As the two made their way to the principal’s office, she looked at her cousin with a sly pair of eyes that Rebecca refused to meet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rebecca maintained. “That was totally you.”

“Was not. I was going to bind their hands, not wreck the entire bathroom. Not that I don’t approve.”

Rebecca suppressed a dark grin. “Well, whoever did it, the Aunts aren’t going to like the property destruction,” she remarked, happily diverting the conversation to the inevitable consequences.

“No, but they’ll understand. They always do. Just be careful with Jean. Couldn’t have fallen for a girl or nonbinary person instead, could you?”

“No,” Rebecca admitted, “I had little choice in the matter.”

…

Rebecca often consoled herself that Jean Havoc was made of tough stuff. He reminded her of it every time they met beneath the bleachers (his choice) or in the back of his car (her preference). There was something playful about parking Jean’s crossover out by the lake on the Catalina estate, watching the sunset and seeing just how far the seats could recline.

But tonight was different. Rebecca knew it from the way he looked at her. Her stomach lurched pleasantly when she saw he’d shaved his face and pressed his collared shirt. A foreboding, ringbox-shaped bulge in Jean’s back pocket sealed the deal. Rebbeca did her best to distract him, knowing she wouldn’t have the heart to turn him down.

So, she pulled Jean into the backseat and pushed him against the leather interior, envious of the way the slick surface must have pressed against his skin. Hips rolled and mouths crashed into one another in the dwindling light of the setting sun. And suddenly, Jean wrapped his strong arms around Rebecca’s waist and maneuvered them both to a sitting position. He pulled away just in time to ask a question as she trailed warm kisses up his neck.

“I’ve always wanted to know why there’s a fireplace jutting out of the middle of the lake,” he said, glancing sideways at his girlfriend.

Rebecca sighed and took in more of Jean’s cringeworthy corner store cologne. At first, she’d disliked the smell. Now, she craved it, going as far as to keep one of his undershirts beneath her pillow. If Jean wondered where it had gone, he didn’t ask.

She straightened up and decided to tell the story as quickly as possible. “That’s all that’s left of the old Catalina Manor,” she explained. “Surely, you know that old rumor.”

She dived down for another kiss but was stopped by a pair of inquisitive eyes. “I’d like to hear it from you.”

“Fine,” Rebecca relented. She slid off his lap and smoothed her mussed hair to one side. Jean took to massaging the soles of her feet as she spoke, a sure sign of ingratiation that obliged Rebecca’s toes to curl.

“My ancestor, Prudence Catalina, lived in that house with her family, and some people thought that she was more than a healer. They thought she was a… y’ know-”

“-a witch?”

“Yes, that. Anyway, one day, the good townsfolk of Southhaven decided to charge Prudence with witchcraft and sentenced her to burn. But her husband wouldn’t let her go without a fight. So, a mob set the house on fire. Prudence cast a spell of protection on the fireplace where she and her daughter waited out the flames.”

“So, that’s why it’s still standing then?  Prudence’s protection spell?” Jean probed.

“Sure,” Rebecca offered warily, “if you believe in magic.”

The unspoken question hung heavy in the air, coupled with heady eye contact that made Rebecca want to crawl back into her lover’s lap and stay there until eternity passed them by. Jean’s hands moved passed her ankles, working her calves with delicious, rolling pressure. Rebecca wasn’t entirely sure there wasn’t magic in his fingers, least of all because of how her tongue seemed to loosen.

This was the worst part of the story. Still, Rebecca continued, if only because Jean had asked her so nicely.

“But Prudence’s husband died in the fire, and she never recovered, even though the townsfolk were fearful of her power and resolved to leave her alone. She raised her daughter in the cottage my family still lives in but was often found crying by her old home’s ruins where she buried her husband. Over time, her tears formed this lake, and in a fit of despair, she cast a spell on herself. The depth of her bitterness twisted into a curse. Which is, I’m sure, what you really wanted to know about.”

Jean hummed in response. “I wonder why you care about it so much. I think about why you won’t let me kiss you in public, and you give me all these talismans to wear.”

He pulled at a long chain concealed beneath his shirt to reveal several small circle pendants adorned with geometric designs and ancient sigils. Each one sang softly with the labor of Rebecca’s love, though she wouldn’t call it that. Not yet.

Rebecca pinched the bridge of her nose. “Amulets, Jean,” she laughed. “Not talismans. There’s a difference. And you know why you wear them.”

Jean moved over her, then, slipping his hand behind her neck and kissing the burgundy lipstick from her lips.

“Loving you,” he confessed, “helps me to understand why Prudence’s husband did it. I’d do it, too, and I’d gladly tell those girls at school where to go for taunting you like they do. Curses are made to be broken, Becky, if you’ll have me.”

She knew what he meant, and wanted to say yes.

Rebecca wanted to run away with Jean and start a new life elsewhere, however pointless that would be in the end. Her mother had tried it, and so had Riza’s parents. They all ended up six feet under with their perfect lives reduced to ruin. Long ago, Riza and Rebecca had resolved to be different, but that was before Rebecca met Jean Havoc, his last name so apt for what he did to her resolve.

Instead of responding, she kissed him with her eyes shut tight, as if she was just a girl and he was her guy. As if the curse was just a tragic fairy tale told by lovers at the lake.

Somewhere near the murky banks of the water, the death-watch beetle began its ominous countdown, and across the estate, Riza startled, knowing there was much work to be done.

A/N:  Thank you for the prompt, @tomoehawkeye! Sorry, this is a little late. I caught a stomach virus. I hope you like it as much as I like these sort of asks popping up in my tumblr inbox. Anyway, if you read something you like, don’t hesitate to let me know in whatever way you want. Your kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, comments, likes and reblogs make my day!

[sugarsourgoat]

All of the 90s (& 80s) Anime You Need To Fill Your Nostalgic Heart

There’s is no greater feeling than running into something that makes you remember a fun time in your life. For me, that is the 90s. Even though I didn’t experience a lot of the 90s, I still have those times where I feel like getting out some popcorn and indulging in the things that make me feel as though I am back in that time. One specific way for me to do that is through watching anime that came out in the 90s. 

The typical art styles of 90s anime are something I sometimes wish was still a feature in today’s animation. The haziness of the animations (mostly because of the lower quality resolution of televisions during that era) takes me back to a time when I was a child. 

In this post, I hope that you will find an anime with a story that will pique your interest, as well as help you feel as though you are back in the 90s (or the 80s because I couldn’t help myself). If you were born in the 2000s, then hopefully this list will help you understand why some of us began to love anime in the first place or will open you to anime you never heard of.

If you have any 90s (or older) anime recommendations, let me know! I’m always happy to watch some old anime. 

xx, Sai

1. Oniisama e

When 16-year-old Nanako Misonoo enters the prestigious all-girls Seiran Academy, she believes a bright future awaits her. Instead, the unlucky girl finds herself dragged into a web of deceit, misery, and jealousy. On top of that, she is chosen as the newest inductee of the Sorority, an elite group whose members are the envy of the entire school. Having none of the grace, wealth, or talent of the other members, Nanako quickly draws the ire of her jealous classmates—especially the fierce Aya Misaki. To cope with her increasingly difficult school life, Nanako recalls her days through letters to her former teacher, Takehiko Henmi, whom she affectionately calls "onii-sama" (big brother). She also finds comfort with her four closest friends: her childhood friend Tomoko Arikura, the sociable but erratic Mariko Shinobu, the troubled musician Rei Asaka, and the athletic tomboy Kaoru Orihara. An impassioned drama about the hardships of bullying, Oniisama e... chronicles a young girl's harsh life at her new school, as she endures cruel rumours, heartless classmates, and countless social trials.

Aired: Summer 1991

2. Angel’s Egg

In a desolate and dark world full of shadows, lives one little girl who seems to do nothing but collect water in jars and protect a large egg she carries everywhere. A mysterious man enters her life... and they discuss the world around them. 

Aired: Fall 1985

3. Laputa: Castle in the Sky

In a world filled with planes and airships, Sheeta is a young girl who has been kidnapped by government agents who seek her mysterious crystal amulet. While trapped aboard an airship, she finds herself without hope—that is, until the ship is raided by pirates. Taking advantage of the ensuing confusion, Sheeta manages to flee from her captors. Upon her escape, she meets Pazu, a boy who dreams of reaching the fabled flying castle, Laputa. The two decide to embark on a journey together to discover this castle in the sky. However, they soon find the government agents back on their trail, as they too are trying to reach Laputa for their own greedy purposes. Tenkuu no Shiro Laputa follows the soaring adventures of Sheeta and Pazu, all while they learn how dreams and dire circumstances can bring two people closer together.

Aired: Summer 1986

4. Sailor Moon

Usagi Tsukino is an average student and crybaby klutz who constantly scores low on her tests. Unexpectedly, her humdrum life is turned upside down when she saves a cat with a crescent moon on its head from danger. The cat, named Luna, later reveals that their meeting was not an accident: Usagi is destined to become Sailor Moon, a planetary guardian with the power to protect the Earth. Given a special brooch that allows her to transform, she must use her new powers to save the city from evil energy-stealing monsters sent by the malevolent Queen Beryl of the Dark Kingdom. But getting accustomed to her powers and fighting villains are not the only things she has to worry about. She must find the lost princess of the Moon Kingdom, the other Sailor Guardians, and the Legendary Silver Crystal in order to save the planet from destruction.

Aired: Spring 1992

5. Akira

In 1988 the Japanese government drops an atomic bomb on Tokyo after ESP experiments on children go awry. In 2019, 31 years after the nuking of the city, Kaneda, a bike gang leader, tries to save his friend Tetsuo from a secret government project. He battles anti-government activists, greedy politicians, irresponsible scientists, and a powerful military leader until Tetsuo's supernatural powers suddenly manifest. A final battle is fought in Tokyo Olympiad exposing the experiment's secrets.

Aired: Summer 1988

6. Burn up! 

To the unsuspecting eye Maki, Reimi and Yuka may not look like ace crime fighters, which might explain why they're stuck on traffic patrol instead of more "exciting" police duties. All that changes when Yuka gets herself kidnapped by a white slave organization run by a politically connected businessman who's got the rest of the police cowed. Now it's up to Maki and Reimi to don skin-tight battle armor, liberate a tank, and make sure that a certain slaver learns that when you play with fire, you're going to get your ass burned!

Aired: Winter 1991

7. Neon Genesis Evangelion

In the year 2015, the world stands on the brink of destruction. Humanity's last hope lies in the hands of Nerv, a special agency under the United Nations, and their Evangelions, giant machines capable of defeating the Angels who herald Earth's ruin. Gendou Ikari, head of the organization, seeks compatible pilots who can synchronize with the Evangelions and realize their true potential. Aiding in this defensive endeavor are talented personnel Misato Katsuragi, Head of Tactical Operations, and Ritsuko Akagi, Chief Scientist. Face to face with his father for the first time in years, 14-year-old Shinji Ikari's average life is irreversibly changed when he is whisked away into the depths of Nerv, and into a harrowing new destiny—he must become the pilot of Evangelion Unit-01 with the fate of mankind on his shoulders. 

Aired: Fall 1995

8. Battle Angel Alita

Doc Ido, a doctor, and mechanic who lives and works in the hellish, post-apocalyptic "Scrapyard", finds the—miraculously preserved—remains of a female cyborg in a junk heap. After he revives and rebuilds her, the preternaturally strong, amnesiac "Gally" begins to forge a life for herself in a world where every day can bring a fight for life.

Aired: Spring 1993

That’s all for my nostalgia-giving anime list for now! If you have any suggestions for me on what anime I should watch send me a message! Let me know if you will/have seen any of these anime and what you think about them! Also, feel free to suggest topics you’d like to see from Sailure Artemis in the future (you can also submit posts).

See you next time!

[mytreefiddy]

It’s SO hard... .

This old planet has made another revolution and another candle is on the birthday cake for me. 

I get home from my birthday trip and make the rounds with my friends and to catch up on their 4th of July weekend stories. A few post celebratory drinks later I end up at Mike’s house.

Now Mike was the first person to welcome me to the neighborhood and I was as much as a part of his family as he was mine.  His wife Kelly was as sweet as they come and quite easy on the eyes along with their two kids.  Their daughter, Taylor was a tomboy and a bit of a trouble-maker if I ever saw one and I had watched her grow up over the years into a bright young women.  She just finished her first year of college and seemed to be setting the world on fire.  That being said...there was a change I noticed in her.  She seemed to be acting a little younger that normal.

Let me set the stage, we were very close and I was the first person she called when she got drunk for the first time so she would have a safe ride home.  I was the one she talked to about the tough stuff and even the good stuff.  Looking back I would say we had a very close bond and we would always hug and I would give her a kiss on the cheek as any good friend would do.  She would sit in my lap or on my knee and really no big deal.

College has always been a time for change and exploration and when she came back and I noticed she was acting a little different, I just thought it was part of the experience.  She seemed a bit more clingy to me, but I thought that was here being grateful for a good friendship.  She was still a bit of a trouble-maker...no..not robbing a bank or stealing the car, but just a bit snarky and would sneak a bit or two of your dessert.  This evening I was eating a cookie and she just leaned over and bit off the other end and laughed.  She has such a sweet devilish laugh.  I gave her the look and she sheepishly looked away...but before she did...she bit her lip...did she really do that???  No, I am sure she was just getting a crumb or something off her lips.  As usual I goosed her sides as payback and the evening continued.

I had the next day off, so I wasn’t worried about a few more drinks and we continued tell stories of our college days (tried to keep them pretty clean) and Taylor shared the usual trials and tribulations of being a Freshman.  Throughout the night I noticed that Taylor was staring at me even when I wasn’t sharing my college adventures.  She was also kind of snuggled up against me and her little dress kept riding up and the top was not staying put.  Let be honest, this wasn’t the first time I saw a flash of panties or a little skin...that just happens when you are around people that much.  You file it away as a Whoa! moment and try to look away faster next time. 

Taylor still had some baby fat, she wasn’t chubby, but had a nice little shake when she walked and when she flossed, everything seemed to move just right.  And yes, I looked away when it became a little to weird.  This night I probably saw more than I should have, but I was a bit drunk so my look-away reaction was just slower....was it?  She also was calling me her other daddy...that was new.  She said I always looked out for her (which I did), but was a little weird being call daddy. 

The night went on and my vision was a little bit fussy and I noticed my hand was on something soft and skin...and...why is my hand on Taylor’s bottom under her skirt?  Taylor was just talking away to her parents and from this angle no one could see.  I tried to move my hand away, but she kept shifting her body to keep it in place.  What the hell??   I quickly excused myself to go to the bathroom.  Did I do that, did SHE do that????  I need to get out of here before something happens.  It was a very nice ass though and those cute panties that she use to wear was now a thong...okay..stop...Okay..thinking about something else.

I told Mike and Kelly that I was going to go back home and thanks for the great evening and drinks.  They said I should stay and Taylor agreed.?.?  I said I was just going to walk home and it would just be easier so I wasn’t in the way in the morning.  I gave them both hugs and a kiss on Kelly’s cheek...a little too close to the lips...man her body felt great against mine...okay...Yes you are now drunk and not thinking straight...go home.  I gave Taylor a hug and kiss on the cheek...but this time she turned and it was more on the lips.  I shook it off and told her goodnight and she said the same...but really softly after she added daddy.  I was out the door!

Just as I was about to close the door, I heard Taylor say, “Wait a minute, I will drive you home...I have to go to the store to pick up a few things.”  I tried to pretend I didn’t hear anything...but she ran out grabbed my hand and said hold on.  She ran back inside and grabbed her glasses, not the glasses...I love her glasses.  I get in her car and kind of pretend to be resting and she is driving me home and just talking away.  I told her thank you and that she should get to the store before it gets too late and to text me when she is home so I know she is safe.  She tells me that the reason she is going to go to the store is for me...I say why.  She tells me she is going to make me a belated birthday cake.  I tell her there is no reason to and to save her money.  Taylor tells me that she is going to do it so just shut up!  I goose her again and joking tell her you don’t talk to you daddy that way.  She sits up tall and says, “Yes Sir!”.  I tell her okay silly I need to get to bed and thanks again.  She then asks if I have any cake mix...I tell her no, I am a chef and I just make it from scratch.  She asks for the recipe and I tell her I will text it to her tomorrow and she says, I need to get the ingredients tonight.  I cave and tell her she can borrow one of my books and go from there. 

We get inside and I stumble a bit in the door and Taylor laughs.  “You okay daddy”, she says.  I say funny and start looking for the book.  After a moment or two I find it, but Taylor is no where to be found.  I call out for her and she is in the kitchen.  “Can I borrow some coconut oil”, she says, I say sure and send her on her way.

I go to the bathroom and do the whole movie sceen with my hands on the sink looking in the mirror talking to myself.  That was close..what was close??  Seemed like something was going to happen...what do you mean?  You are imagining things and you are just drunk and horny...get your shit together.  Note to self, need a girlfriend fast...lol. 

I leave the bathroom and I hear, “OoOOo, Daddy’s been working out.”  Taylor what are you doing?  I though you left...she said I did, but I know where you extra key is (Great!  Now I need to hide that somewhere else).  “What are you doing on my bed?”, I say.  “It is more comfortable than mine.”, Taylor responds.  Okay, you need to get going...this is weird.  “You were the one with their hand on my little ass.”, she responds.  Well I didn’t put it there.  “I know.” she says, but that what made it so fun.  Not thinking, I say, “You are so bad!”.  “Only for you Daddy!”, she responds.  Okay, you really need to go.  “Daddy, you will have to make me.” she says as she bites her lip.  Okay, I go over to the bed and pick her up and take her to the door.  “You forgot my keys...they are by the bed”, she says.  I go back and get them and then she forgot something else over and over again.  I finally set her down and sit on the bed.  I am too tired for these games.  I need to get to sleep.  She says, “Go ahead, I am not stopping you.”  I crawl under the covers and roll over. 

I must have fallen asleep and the next thing I feel is someone sitting on me.  I look up and Taylor is on top of me with her little dress still on.  The straps are slowly falling down her arms and the only thing that keeps the top on is the very edge of the lace trim draped across her hard little nipples.  “Do you like them”, she says?  She gives a little shake and her top falls off.  Her breasts are perfect, perky, and full...she leans in and lets her nipples slowly glaze over my face.  She smiles that devilish grin at me and runs her hands slowly down my chest.  I grab them before she gets too low to stop her and she leans over and puts her breast in my face.  I move my hands to gently push her away and her hand reaches down and slides her hand over me.  She then pulls me up closer to her as she is slowly starting to slide up and down and I hear a slow...almost purr..and she says, “Yes, daddy.” ever so softly. 

“Taylor, come on”, I say.  We can’t do this... .  “It’s okay, you are not my really daddy...”, she moans.  “Your parents are my best friends...”, I say.  Before I can say another word, she locks lips with me.  I so don’t want to do this as I tense up.  Her mouth is so soft and feels so good, I grab her by the back of her ponytail with one hand and the other on her tight little ass and pull her closer to me.  She gasps with pleasure as she wants more.  I help guide her gliding up and down my shaft...that feels so good.  My cock finds its way out of my boxers and now I can feel every fold as she glides up and down.  Her panties are so wet and just fuels the desire. 

By now I have learned all of her hot spots as I found out she likes to have her nipples bitten and then sucked on hard and if my right hand “accidentally” lets a finger caress her little back-side she goes wild as she rides me, pressing so hard.  Pretty soon she had pulled her panties aside and her kitty lips are around my shaft sliding up and down.  With every movement my head is getting closer to going inside her at one point I gasp as I though I was going all the way in and had to stop.  Oh! She feels so good I don’t want it to stop.  I look at her deep and tell her, “We can’t.”  She seems to relent a bit but we are pushing every limit.  I can feel my cock throbbing as she is leaning back and moaning.

All of a sudden she stops dead in her tracks and looks into my eyes.  “Daddy, I need you to Fuck me or make me cum!  I can’t take it any longer.” she moans.  I flip her around so she is on top of me.  For the first time I can really see her little blue thong, so wet that it is see through.  I pull her close to my face gentle teasing her with my tongue on every spot but the one she really wants.  I feel her lips wrap abound my shaft...I let out a slight moan...I want nothing more to slowly feed her every inch and not stop.  I tell her, “No, it is your turn sweetheart.”  “Thank you daddy.”, she says while she takes it deep a couple of times and slowly kisses the head.  I pull her panties off and start to get closer to what she wants.  Deeper and deeper I go as reach the base and slowly let my tongue split her lips and what starts as a soft moan goes to a loud plea of more.  Deeper and deeper I go as my tongue explores every nook not wanting to get her off to soon but wanting her to enjoy the ride.  I found every spot that drove her crazy and a few unexpected ones that make her screen louder.  My fingers joined in on the action taking care to give those special spots extra attention.  My lips were swollen, but sucking on her lips and clit gave her so much pleasure, I couldn’t stop.  I turned her over and wrapped my lips around her clit and two fingers were inside at putting pressure on the top in just the right spot.  Her body was shaking and her moans were louder as she exploded all over my face.  I could have stayed there for hours... . 

She looked at me and said, “Oh, you poor face daddy.”  As she leaned over and licked up every drop.  “Was I a good girl?”, she looked at me and asked as she laid her body against me.  There was so much more I wanted to do and needed to do, but I am glad we stopped before things got every more carried away.  “Yes, yes you were a perfect little girl!”, I told her and then kissed her.

Time seemed to stand still for a long time and then just as nothing happened, we said our goodbyes...although the kissing lingered and she got in her car and left. 

I went back and laid down and tried to think of the amazing night and push the guild aside.  As I was drifting off to sleep, I got a text.  It was Taylor and she said, I picked up the cake supplies and there was a picture if a grocery bag and then a tub of frosting and sprinkles out of the bag that Taylor was holding.  I told her thank you and that I wasn’t that big of a sprinkle fan...but she responded.  You will be!!!..... .

[thisspiritsgarden]

Hair Like Mine

I have struggled with my hair since I was a young girl. I’m not exactly sure what grade of hair I have but I’m sure it is a 4-something. It is kinky, unmanageable, and frustrating. Learning to embrace such a grade of hair has been a lifelong struggle for me. I was in Elementary school when I realized my hair was different from the other students in my class. Their hair was straight and blonde. It blew in the wind and they could easily sling it back into ponytails without a brush or a comb, or grease. My hair was a polar opposite. As I got older I realized that my hair was different from my own sister’s hair. I realized that she had “good hair” and I did not. When I finally did learn to embrace my natural hair I realized how confused people can be about what it means to be a Black woman with hair like mine.

My hair was relaxed when I was younger, and was that way for as long as I can remember. I don’t remember when my first perm was or even what it felt like. I do remember that getting ready in the morning required at least thirty minutes of hair grooming. My mom used to sit me in a plastic white chair. She used to use those hair bows with the big balls on the end of them that make a “clanking” noise if you play with them (which I did often). My mom had a plastic bag filled with these hairbows. My favorite one had some sort of Pokemon painted on the balls. My mom used to create these weird ponytail hairstyles with them. Sometimes she would do “plaits” (or twists), carefully parting my hair and greasing my scalp as she would do them. Her parts were always perfect and I could always see the white of my scalp when she was done. I very rarely wore my hair straight down when I was young. My mom always added some sort of braid or ponytail that hung over my face. I did not know how to recreate my mom’s hair styles so I had to be sure not to touch my hair when I was in school.

The hot-comb was also a staple in my house. My mom had the plug in eye and everything. That comb burned my ear so many times, but I used to love hearing the grease on my relaxed hair fry when she would run the comb through it. I still remember the smell of frying hair and the sound and feel of her breathe blowing against the steaming comb to cool it down. I remember flinching when I could feel the heat of the comb nearing my ear or my scalp. I remember the very few, and very painful times my mom would accidently put the comb to close to my scalp. She would always apologize and try to rub it or put cold grease on it.

Despite the hard work that my mother would put into my hair every morning, growing up I was a “tomboy.” I used to run around the playground hitting boys, and pissing them off. It was my favorite thing to do. If my mom did any sort of ponytail with my hair, that pony tail was guaranteed to be a mess when I got home. Strands of hair were guaranteed to be sticking straight up from my scalp and that is only if the hairbow didn’t fall out of my hair.

As I got older, around eight or nine, I stopped caring about my hair looking nice. Picture day was always funny. The photographers would have their combs out, ready to comb some blonde hair out of the faces of pretty white girls. Then there was girls with hair like mine. The photographers didn’t know what to make of my hair, especially if my mother had done my hair in some weird ponytail style. There was no hope for me as far as picture day came if I had ruined my hair at any point during the day. We would also have wacky tacky day at least once a year, and I loved it because it meant that my mom did not have to do my hair that day. My hair could be a wild mess, it could be free. Or so I thought. A memory still lingers in my head. A male student told me “Your hair looks wacky tacky everyday.” At the time, I thought I didn’t care about that comment.

I can’t remember how old I was or why I started to hate my hair. Maybe it was the fact that I used to play with Bratz dolls, and every single doll had long straight hair? Maybe more people said hateful things to me about my hair? I just remember thinking to myself that if I had longer hair, more manageable hair, that I would be prettier, and that boys would like me more. I used to flip through yearbooks and imagine I was a pretty girl with long straight hair. Sometimes I would pick a random girl from my sister’s old yearbooks and pretend I was her in my daydreams. I would change my name and everything. Sometimes they were a different race from me but they always had long, straight hair.

When I got to middle school my mom still did my hair, albeit, she no longer did the pony tail styles. Instead she started using a curling iron and curling my hair into these unflattering old-school...shapes. My hair started breaking off in middle school too. It was long when I was in Elementary school but it started getting shorter and shorter the older I got, and probably the more relaxers I got.

At the start of seventh grade, I had cornrow extensions. The extensions were long and for the first time I actually felt pretty and boys were actually starting to like me. I used to sling my long, fake braids around one side of my shoulder because I thought that made me look prettier.  Then I met a group of girls who decided to make my life a living hell in seventh grade and what little bit of confidence that I was gaining in myself faded away. The extensions also had to go. I had left them in for too long which caused further damage to my hair, but my hair no longer mattered in seventh grade because I had much bigger worries.

When I started the eighth grade, I desired to reinvent myself. My mom would always get me one professional perm per year, usually before the start of the school year. All of the rest of my perms would come out of a box. I loved the way my hair looked after a fresh perm. It was still short, but atleast is flowed freely through the air, and didn’t stand up in the back if I leaned my head down. I looked pretty with my hair straight too. The perms usually only lasted a week or so and then I would be back to trying to straighten my hair to manage it.

It continued to break off throughout high school. The only time I ever truly liked my hair was when I would get a fresh perm. I remember my mom applying vaseline to the edge of my face in case the lye fell on my skin. I learned to keep the perm on my hair for as long as possible in order to achieve the best results. My scalp would be on fire before I would tell my mom to start dunking my head under the running sink faucet. I spent so much time under the faucet in my parents kitchen. That is what I remember the most about box perms. Salon perms didn’t require as much head dunking but hair stylists are not as gentle, (or caring) as a mother is. Once, one of the women who did my hair dropped some of the lye onto my bare forehead. She wiped it off with her finger and kept it moving. My forehead had a nasty, crusty red bruise on it for weeks.

Growing up, I never paid attention to the fact that my sister and I had two different hair textures. I didn’t realize this until I started wearing the cornrow extensions. My sister was rather condescending about me wearing those. I remember once she teased me for wearing “horse-hair weave” My sister never needed to wear a weave. She has some kind of three-something hair. Her curls are pretty and bouncy. When we were younger she wore it straight often. She endured the hot comb and perms too, but not nearly at the rate that I did. My mom didn’t spend hours trying to get my sisters hair to cooperate. My sister, even though she didn’t have hair like the blond white girls I went to Elementary school with, had manageable hair. I wouldn’t learn that my sisters hair was considered “good hair” until I was in my late teens.

When I was a senior in highschool, my sister called me to tell me that she was going “natural” with her hair. This was in 2010 and going natural wasn’t nearly as popular as it is now. I, like so many others, thought she was going to cease washing her hair. She explained to me what natural really meant, and I began to ponder if this was something I should do. I was getting ready to go to college in the fall of the next year and I knew I wouldn’t be able to do my hair. I never figured out how to properly straighten my relaxed hair. I didn’t know how to curl it and it was too short for a ponytail.

There was another girl at my highschool named Brianna who had went natural with her hair. Her hair was like mine, thick and kinky, but it looked nice. She used to do nice updos and blowouts and I started thinking that maybe I can get my hair to look like that. I told my mom I was thinking about going natural with my hair and her response was “So you going to walk around with an afro?”, as is if both her and my dad didn’t walk around with an afro when they were my age. My dad even has pieces of his afro taped to the back of one of his pictures in our family photo albums.

I had made up my mind. In February of 2011, my parents and I visited my sister in Raleigh and we went to a natural hair salon so that I could get the “big chop”. When I stepped in the salon and told the stylist what I was doing and she recoiled. She told me that I should just go to a barber shop because I would look like a little boy when she was through. My sister had noticed the woman pull me aside and she text me to tell me not to let that woman talk me out of getting my hair cut. Another stylist cut my hair for me and afterwards my family and I went to buy me an onslaught of natural hair care products.

My hair grew fairly quickly. By the time I attended undergraduate school it was a TWA. I used to buy flower accessories to put in my hair to make myself look less boyish at this stage. I liked that I no longer had to worry about strands of my hair sticking up or relaxers. My TWA was surprisingly simple to manage and I was not in a rush for it to grow long and full. Nevertheless it did, and by the time I graduated from undergraduate school it was long, big, and fluffy. It was still hard to manage, but I was beginning to accept my hair the way it is.

“Good hair” is a rather interesting concept. The Elementary school I attended was majority White. Both my sister and I are very light-skinned and we were never considered to be just Black. Indeed we are not, because I took an Ancestry DNA test this year and found that I do have a substantial amount of European ancestry despite the fact that both my parents are African-American as are their family members. We didn’t know this when we were younger and our parents (who most likely did not know either) always told us that we were just Black. As I grew up, I realized that the only thing people used to identify me as Black was not the color of my skin but the texture of my hair. Even in its relaxed form it was thick enough for people to know that I was Black. As for my sister, her hair is an anomaly. It is an indication that she is mixed, but I am not sure how many people assume my sister is actually Black. Both her and myself, have gotten Mexican, Puerto Rican, Dominican, and the occasional Islander. I get these assumptions, but everyone knows I have some kind of Black in me, especially now that I am natural. I am not sure how often people assume my sister has any Black in her at all. It is entirely possible for her to pass as White-Hispanic or some other mixed race woman. She doesn’t do this on purpose, but it is just a consequence of being an African-American woman with “good hair” because people on the outside looking in do not think it is possible for an African-American woman to have “good hair”.

There is no clear definition of what “good hair” actually is. It is a social construct most likely started by White people to divide African-Americans. Hair that isn’t blonde and straight is usually not considered good hair in White communities. If you are Black, however, and you’re hair is long and manageable like that of my sisters, a white person may consider that you have good hair for a Black person. It isn’t as good as theirs, but it’s better than Black people with hair like mine

It is clear that hair like mine never was and never will be considered “good hair” in the White community or the African American community. When my hair was relaxed it wasn’t considered “good hair” to White people because it was still nappy. It also wasn’t considered “good hair” to the African American community because it was chemically processed… and still nappy. My relaxed hair was never good hair to begin with because it was unhealthy and dry and was breaking off my scalp like a Nature Valley granola bar. Now that my hair is natural and long, it is still not considered good hair in either community. I know that wearing my hair natural curbs my dating potential. African-American men would much rather date a woman with hair like my sister’s or a white girl with flawless blonde hair. They want hair they can run their fingers through and hair they can play in. You can do both of those things with my hair on a good day, but they don’t know that or care to find out.

Older Black women also do not enjoy the natural look. It doesn’t fit in with many of their “respectability politics.” I straightened my hair for my graduation from graduate school because I highly doubt I will go back to school and I wanted to know what it was like to wear a graduation cap the “normal” way without the use of bobby pins to keep it on my head. I went into work with my hair straight for about a week and an older black woman who worked with me told me that I should keep my hair that way. Truthfully, many people told me that I should keep my hair straight, but it always cuts the deepest when a black woman tells you should wear your hair straight.

Another thing that happens when you have hair like mine and you wear it natural is that White people view you as defiant or believe that you are making a political statement. I live in a rural, majority white town for now, and I wear my hair out in a afro most times. People here stare at me as if am walking around butt naked. They look up at my hair as they talk to me and they think that I don’t notice it but I do. I will admit, sometimes I do wear my afro out on purpose, just to trigger them because it is not my fault that they view my hair as some sort of political statement. It is not a political statement but it is the way my hair naturally grows out of my scalp. It grows horizontally instead of vertically. Us Black folks didn’t make our hair into a political statement, White people did that. If they don’t like the way our hair grows out of our scalp then they need to take it up with God.

Finally, there are the every day trials and tribulations of having hair like mine. The hair straightener kiosks at the mall never bother to approach someone with hair like mine. They know their stragtheners won’t work on my nappy ass hair. There is the ever present worry of going on a job interview with my natural hair and fearing that the interviewer will deem me unprofessional for wearing my hair the way it naturally grows out of my scalp. Both my Dad and my sister recommended I keep my hair straight for interviews but I can’t afford one hundred dollars per interview. I worry how my hair texture will affect my dating life if I ever do decide to date. I know that many African-American men are not fond of hair like mine, and I am willing to date outside my race, but I don’t know how many non African-American men are fond of hair like mine. There is also the ridiculous personal anxiety of a bug falling into my hair and eating through my scalp. The other day I picked a bug deep out of afro and flung it into the street. Then there's the realization that there are some styles I will never be able to do without having to pay an arm and leg and a torso. Doing a simple bun takes time and patience. Living in a rural area also means that most stores do not sell the products that I use frequently. I am no longer a product junky but I still have to drive an hour into the city to find some of the products I use to deep condition because a rural white town is not willing to accomodate the few people here with hair like mine.

I am 24 years old now and I am still learning to love my hair. Sometimes it still frustrates me because I think of all the ways the texture of my hair has held me back in life. I think of how much prettier I would be with straight hair, whether or not boys would have liked me more if I had “good hair” in high school. I still like to imagine what my life would be like if I had gotten my sister’s grade of hair. How much easier it would be for me to love myself. I didn’t get to pick my hair texture. It’s one of the things God gave me to work with but unfortunately the world isn’t so accepting of a person's natural God-given attributes if they do not understand it.

Still, I am proud of my natural hair and I do appreciate it and like it most days. Some days I love it. It suits my face better than straight hair does. It is long and I love to wear it big and blown out whenever possible. It reminds me that I am a Black woman. It reminds me of who my ancestors might have been. In a lot of ways, it reminds me of where I might have came from. It reminds me of where my original home might be.

I don’t know when or why my mom started relaxing her hair, but I still remember the annoyance she displayed when I told her I was going to go natural. After I cut all my hair off she gave me one of her old, black, plastic afro picks. A few months later she started transitioning to go natural with her hair. She has been natural for several years now. I have been natural for seven years. Whenever I go home, I look on my moms vanity mirror in my parents room. She has a metal afro pick with a black power fist on the handle of it. I don’t know when she got it but I like to imagine that she got it back when she was my age and that she kept it all these years. I don’t care for metal afro picks, but sometimes I am tempted to steal it. I always decide against it because I’d like to think that this pick is special to her. I’d like to think that this pick reminds her of her home. I’d like to think that this pick reminds her of who she is and who she was created to be.

[dateamonster]

Will you do a little thing about a girl who tries to get an orc to like her? Like not a dainty one but a thick tomboy type with actual strength behind her fluff?

((i got really into this and it ended up longer than i meant it to so it’s under a cut for convenience))

The circumstances under which they first met were... less than ideal.

After the war, Della had been restless. She joined a guild of healers campaigning to Kolgarten, one of the territories that had been most devastated in the conflict, hoping to find some satisfaction doling out vaccines and curatives. But her training was still first and foremost as a field medic, so when a group of villagers showed up on the proverbial doorstep of the mobile hospital unit with a titan of a woman sprawled out on a makeshift stretcher, something in Della just clicked.

Before she knew what she was doing she was cleaning and bandaging, summoning flame to disinfect and cauterize, ordering fellow volunteers around like this was still the army and she was still hot shit. Though Della knew she had been out of her bounds, the chief physician still commended her quick response.

“We weren’t able to salvage all of it, but she’s recovering now and that’s as much as we could hope for. In fact, considering the situation it was nothing short of miraculous. You should be proud.”

She tried to be proud, but most of what she felt was more of the same. She watched over the patient with a sort of guilty tension, always wondering if there was more she could have done. When the most immediate danger, the infection from the shrapnel in her hand, had passed and she was no longer a priority case, Della kept watching.

The patient woke up once while in her care, still heavily drugged. She looked at Della, mumbled something (she couldn’t tell what. Her orcish was mostly limited to “yes” and “no” and “where is the bathroom” and “you need to stop moving so I can find a vein”) and went back under. Not more than a day later, word got out about Della’s apparent heroic handling of the case and she was hurriedly relocated to an area in more dire need of skilled hands and capable casting. Her only regret upon leaving was that she’d never find out what happened to the woman.

The second time they met was several years later. Della was in a pub in Newalte, making her way steadily from her regular state of slightly buzzed to well and truly toasted, when a lone woman walked through the door.

In these parts coming to a pub such as this one unaccompanied was generally meant to project loud and clear to the other patrons that one was looking for nightly companionship. Della herself had come in with similar intentions. However, this woman was an orc (and quite a specimen besides; tall and muscular even by the standards of her species, silver hair in a braid as thick as rope hanging down to her waist) which meant she was probably from out of town, and thus might not know the etiquette.

Della weighed her options for a while and but ultimately decided, fuck it, and approached her.

“Hey, bet I could beat you in arm wrestling.”

As pickup lines went, it was not the finest, nor the most subtle when there was already a faint blush painted across her cheeks from the ale. The woman looked at her quizzically, prompting Della to roll up her right sleeve in demonstration. She had a fair bit of muscle herself and though it hardly compared to the orc across from her, she hoped it would be enough to impress.

“I am fear you would win that bet,” the orc woman said in thickly accented common. She raised her own arm in demonstration. “For you have me at a disadvantage.”

It was true, for now Della saw that on her right hand all but her thumb and forefinger were severed down to the knuckle. A prominent scar cut across her palm and trailed towards her wrist. Della recognized the mark instantly and her mouth fell agape.

Misinterpreting her shock, the woman chuckled and set her hand down on the countertop. “It is old wound. I used to scavenge old battlegrounds for scrap to sell. Picked up inactive explosive, only was not so inactive.”

Once again Della was presented with a choice.

“That... that kind of injury must be difficult to live with,” she said cautiously. She pulled up a stool and, when she did not object, sat down beside her. “Even after everything, the casualties just don’t end, do they.” She cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Your common is very good. Do you travel much?”

“Only most recently. I study much before, practice a little bit every day. I had wish to leave the homeland, learn more. In wartime I was-” She struggled for the words. “Homefront military. Home was locked down, whole city close, no one in or out. I was... enforcer.” She shook her head. “It was no good. I have many regrets of that time. Now, I want to go new places, learn new things. Such a thing should not happen again, if only all people learn.”

Della nodded. Maybe it was the pure startling serendipity of the encounter, maybe it was the drink, but she found herself transfixed by her. Her dark eyes, her firm, stalwart features set against olive green skin.

“My name’s Delores Van Wieren, but you can call me Della.”

The orc smiled, creases forming around her eyes. “My name is Sigmit. In original orcsar means something like, ‘she sticks in eyes with burning knife’.”

Della burst out laughing. “It so does not.” She licked her lips and pronounced her words in slow, clumsy orcish, “I think you are beautiful.”

Sigmit’s eyes widened. An emerald blush crept up her neck. “Impressive. Do you talk this way to all the orc girls?”

Her gaze fell briefly to the two-fingered hand resting atop the bar and thought, no. Somehow, someway, it always had to be her.

[juicifeur]

Party On (Sam x reader)

anonymous asked: Can you write a Sam x Female!Reader one shot where the reader is a tomboy and always wears jeans, sweats, or slacks, but one day she has to pose as a college student in a sorority and they give her a makeover and sam's like DAYUM

anonymous asked: That idea with the tomboy!reader and sam is really cute, can I add something? There's a line in How I Met Your Mother where Ted turns to his tomboy friend/gf Robin and says "Robin Scherbatsky... you're a girl!" When she freaks out about her wedding

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: I relate to this super hard. And I’m also so sorry for the lack of activity

You were starting to regret this whole ‘inside man’ thing.

Your usual ensemble consisted of sweat pants, or old jeans, and slacks for when you needed to act like Press or an agent for the FBI. You were strictly as less of a girl as you could be, and you liked it that way.

The last time you wore a dress of any kind was back when you attended a high school in Minnesota for about a week. You had to do your best to blend in with the general female population; whom of which were all wearing nearly identical denim short skirts. The early 2000′s didn’t exactly have any trend worthy of anyone’s memory. 

In addition, the last time you wore pink, you were probably four years old.

And in this particular situation, both of those horrible fashion tragedies, that still managed to make you retch, came back to haunt you.

The eight college age girls around you squealed as they finally gave you some space to breathe.

   “Oh my god, you look totes amazing!” One of them flipped her hair back, as if gloating about all her hard work. The others clapped and nodded in agreement.

   “Yeah, this highlight really brings out your eyes.” Another girl tilted your chin up to her a little and her manicured nails felt all wrong. Too smooth and shiny and long; you’d much rather have dirt and blood under yours. Right now all you wanted was a mirror so you could see the horrors that they’d inflicted on you.

   “Alright, alright, let me up.” You gently pushed your way through the girls of Kappa Alpha Theta, the KATs as they liked to be addressed as, and you walked towards the huge counter-top mirror. You got one look and your stomach twisted.

Faking a smile, you turned back to the eager girls, who all thought you were their newest recruit. It was easy to get access to the Sorority house since all forms of initiation, aside from a simple oath, had been banned from campus after three girls had gotten food poisoning from a dumpster buffet and another guy from the Frat house went comatose after a mishap during a zoo break-in, resulting in two arrests. That, and the fact that there was an opening after  one of the girls died.

   “I love it.” You had to lie through your teeth even though you thought you looked like a clown with a layer of mud on her face or some kind of painted whore. They all shrieked in delight and swarmed you like piranhas.

   “Ya know, we could take care of that scar for you,” She poked the mark above your eyebrow on your forehead.

   “We know a few tricks.” One of the girls was close to your ear.

   “Uh- that’s alright. I like it where it is.” You said, uncomfortably, skeptical of what she meant by tricks. You knew you were dealing with minor witchcraft for this case but now you may have narrowed down where it was coming from.

   “We have to find you the perfect dress for the party tonight.” One of the girls started babbling about what colour would go best with your skin tone and how to do your hair with a few other girls while you just stared at them and wondered how the hell you were going to get out of this.

By the time the Winchesters arrived at the large Sorority house, the party was in full swing. Dean looked around.

   “This is stupid.” He grumbled softly. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, trying to blend in, Sam was sporting a similar outfit. Everyone knew they weren’t exactly in their prime college years, but they were hoping that everyone there would be too drunk to remember them from their earlier investigation of the campus.

   “They’re gonna think we’re narcs.”

   “Just blend in and shut up. We gotta find Y/N.” Sam mumbled as they wove through the crowd of drunk, or otherwise substance-compromised, co-eds. He was surprised Dean wasn’t more comfortable in a house full of alcohol and college girls, but he understood where he was coming from. 

   “I need a drink.” Dean said and made his way to the kitchen. Sam scanned the mass of heads for you and his eyes landed on a some Y/H/C hair in the corner along with two other girls. You spotted Sam as well and excused yourself.

   “Thank god you’re here. I feel like a poodle.” You pulled the skin tight blue dress further down your thighs.

Sam’s mouth seemed to dry up and his eyes raked your body slowly, but not discreetly.

   “Whoa..” He mumbled. He never saw you in makeup, let alone a dress.

   “Eyes up here, Sam.” You blushed a little and smirked.

   “Right- uh- sorry.” He met your eyes and you could see he was blushing as well. Hopefully he wouldn’t need to adjust his jeans. 

Dean appeared at his brother’s shoulder as he downed the last of whatever was in the Red Solo Cup in his hand. When he lowered it he coughed in surprise, he wiped his mouth to prevent liquid from coming out.

   “Damn. Y/N Y/L/N, you’re a girl?” Dean chuckled softly and looked you up and down as Sam had. You rolled your eyes. Men.

   “Shut up. Did you two find anything on campus?” You hushed your voice even though the music was loud enough to keep your conversation confidential. Dean was still a little distracted, the dress did accentuate some of your features.

   “It’s weird seeing you like this, I mean, wow..I mean..just wow.”

   “Can we focus on something other than my breasts, please?” You looked at him, very unimpressed.

   “Right, my bad.” Dean chuckled.

   “Coroner didn’t give us much to go on. Just looked like the girl had a really bad allergic reaction to some makeup thing.” He informed. You sighed. The death of a girl that had been a member of this particular Sorority had brought you to this town. She was found in the bathroom upstairs, throat closed and boils covering her body. You suspected a coven, or at the least witchcraft, right away.

   “Well, it’s definitely someone here. I found a box full of witch-crap under someone’s bed.” You looked around to be sure that no one was listening in.

   “We can’t just kill someone. They’re people.” Sam said. You nodded again, agreeing. 

   “Yeah. I don’t think there’s anything we can do tonight. I say we have a little fun for once.” You drank from your cup and felt the burn of alcohol down your throat. Dean chuckled and looked around, clapping his hands together once.

   “Can’t argue with that.” 

The ping pong ball landed in Sam’s cup again and he looked up at you, he expected nothing less. Guys and girls alike all chanted around the table as Sam took another drink. You had a feeling that he would have a headache in the morning.

   “Forfeit yet, Sammy?” You called across the table, you’d let your hair down a while ago to let it breathe through all the hairspray.

   “No way.” He definitely wasn’t a quitter. You smirked and crossed your arms.

   “Well then take your shot.” You leaned on the table and watched Sam take his shot, the ball hit the edge of the cup and everyone groaned around him as you giggled.

   “Vision getting a little fuzzy?” You looked back up at Sam and he shrugged a little. Six of his cups were already empty.

   “Maybe.” His cheeks were a little rosy now that you looked.

   “You win.” Sam looked up and chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. A small smirk played on his lips and his eyes seemed to grow slightly darker than their usual colour.

The students around the table cheered loudly as they all took celebratory drinks, the music pumped through their bodies and they went back to partying hard when they realized the game was over. You grinned widely and also finished your drink, making your way over to Sam, who was watching you closely.

   “Well played.” He congratulated. His biceps flexed under his t-shirt as he looked down at you. You smiled.

   “You need to work on your shot.” You giggled softly and pulled him back to the kitchen. 

   “Oh...my..god.” A girl, you didn’t bother to learn names, giggled drunkenly and wrapped her arm around your neck. She pressed her face against your cheek.

   “New girl already has a really cute date. If you need a room,” She hiccuped and smiled, looking up at Sam.

   “Just ask.” She whispered and giggled again. Your cheeks went a little red.

   “Right, will do.” You responded, then she pulled you a little closer.

   “Ya know that scar...mm, from earlier?” She slurred and breathed down your neck, she reeked of alcohol. You nodded and Sam watched curiously.

   “Well, if you need it taken care of- jus’ go upstairs and I’ll meet you in the bathroom.” She giggled, hiccuped once and stumbled away, leaving a lipstick stain on your cheek and a small smack on your butt. These girls seemed completely guided and concerned by appearances. Sam chuckled.

   “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that’s one of them.” He watched her saunter into the crowd of shirtless guys and girls wearing bikini tops. You nodded.

   “It’s a damn good thing the truth comes out when you’re drunk.” You sipped from your cup again and Sam nodded, tilting his head down towards you. He tried to speak over the noise.

   “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you need to change anything about how you look.” He stood back up straight and you smiled softly. You’d always had a soft spot for Sam Winchester. Maybe now that he’d seen you look like a female, he felt a little more inclined. 

You kissed his cheek softly.

   “Thanks.”

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