#been ages since I last dressed up as a clown

[lovesickhog]

Would people be interested in a clown photo shoot?

[realcube]

dilf december

day four ⭑ eijiro kirishima ⭑ kid's dad x party princess

tags : age gap, fluff, didn't want to imply the reader's looks so 'princess lavender' is just a made-up character that can look like whatever you want

an exceptional way of earning an income alongside being a broke college student is dressing up as a princess and being hired to attend rich children's birthday parties to entertain them.

you've been doing it for a while now, meaning you have accumulated lots of positive reviews and have worked at many events. however, this is the first one to truly blow you away at how massive it is.

there were around ten other character workers in attendance, as well as clowns, face-painters, live music, and caterers. not to mention the bouncy-house and pool that were also features at this party. it sounds like way too much entertainment to fit into one backyard, but no, this family was so wealthy that their own back garden was big enough to host all these amenties, plus the hundreds of guests.

however, you're only able to see all this by peering around the side of the house into the backyard, because you were specifically instructed to wait at the front of the house until invited inside. you weren't sure who was going to come get you — an event manager or otherwise — but you had been standing on the porch for around forty minutes now, and the neighbours were starting to cast you suspicious looks.

however, just as you were about to pull out your phone to check the time again, the front door swung open and a tall, beefy man frantically began looking around, but quickly calmed down when his gaze fell upon you. he smiled, revealing his sharp, pointed teeth, "the princess has arrived." he sung playfully.

you would laugh, but you are simply too stunned to do so. though you were aware you would be working for a "kirishima" residence, it still came as a shock to you that the father of the birthday girl is the sturdy hero: red riot! seeing his towering figure before you — standing at well over 6'5" — with his bulging muslces flexing as his arms are folded over his chest, along with his defined yet scarred facial features were enough to incite a strong sting of fear mixed with arousal inside you.

he must've noticed how mesmerised and dumbfounded you were, as he shortly prompts, "uh, feelin' okay, kid?"

you nod frantically, although that messed up your tiara, which you then fix as you awkwardly explain, "yes, of course! i'm great. super excited to see the birthday girl."

he smirks, endeared by how sweet you seem, "good. it isn't time for you to go out there just yet. we're keeping you as one last surprise for after she gets her cake. why don't you come inside for now though?"

you nod politely, and follow him excitedly as he leads you inside his home. as you may except, it's all exceptionally large; so naturally it takes a irregular amount of time to even walk through the foyer. to combat the awkward silence, you try to make friendly yet professional conversation, "this is such an impressive party that you've thrown for your daughter. are birthdays always this large in your family?"

he chuckles deeply, his laugh echoing throughout the spacious area. "no, never this big. but this is her first birthday since her mum and i got divorced, so i want it to be extra special for her." suddenly the atmosphere in the room shifts silently to something more solemn, only for a moment, until he continues, "plus, i need to outdo whatever my ex-wife has planned."

you both chuckle, and as you to do, you arrive in the living room and he motions for you to sit down on the plush cashmere sofa. "well, you've really gone all-out. it seems pretty much impossible to beat."

"hope so." he looks around slightly, as though he was trying to remember something or was about to move off, but then his demeanour softens and he relax back onto the matching sofa, opposite the one you were sat on. "sorry for leaving you waiting outside on the porch for so long, there was just so much stuff i had to take care of. who would've thought throwing a six year-old's birthday party would be harder than being a pro-hero?" he forces a laugh, though you can tell it's laced with stress and frustration.

"it's amazing that you're trying." you comment, gazing at him while he admires you right back. though, neither of you can really tell.

"yeah. and it's all worth it to make her happy, anyway." he muses, getting lost in his own thoughts, until he snaps out of them and jumps to his feet, "speaking of which, i need to see if my angel is doing alright." he swiftly starts walking off in a direction that you assume leads to the back garden. as he marches off, he calls out to you, "stay right there and make yourself at home. i'll be back for you soon, princess." he snickers, and shoots you a playful wink from over his shoulder.

it's enough to make your heart flutter and it seared into your brain, replaying in your mind for the whole time you were waiitng. it confirmed that not only was he the richest dad you've ever worked for, but the hottest too.

⭑⭑⭑

around an hour passed and the entire time, you were laying on the couch, watching youtube videos on your phone. not that you minded, since you already charged for the length of the whole party, meaning you were essentially being paid to sit around and look pretty, which is never a bad thing.

you heard quite a commotion outside as everyone began singing happy birthday, then cheer as the candles are blown out. shortly afterwards, kirishima comes darting back into the living room, and holds out his hand for you to take, "ready to go?"

you look up at him, and nod. getting into character and you delicately place your hand in his and stand up, straightening yourself out and adjusting your tiara.

he takes you through the kitchen to the dining room, where there is a set of open glass doors that lead directly to the backyard. he tells you to stop beside one the doors, and not got through just yet, so you are out of view of everyone outside too.

he, however, steps out and yells to get to everyone's attention. "alright, we have one last surprise! can you cover your eyes, angel?"

you can't see her from where you are standing, but you assume she covered her eyes. that is when kirishima pops his head back into the dining room and mouths for you to come through the door.

you do so, and immediately all the guests — parents and children alike — start a quiet chorus of 'ooh's and 'aah's. kirishima's red-headed daughter is practically bouncing with excitement at this point, wearing a wide grin.

"okay, you can open them!"

she drops her hands as her father says, and screams with glee at the mere sight of you. "princess lavender!" she shrieks, jumping on the spot then sprinitng over to you, with her arms wide open. you would've thought she had some sort of speed-related quirk considering the terminal velocity she came at you with.

likewise, the force she hugs with is enough to almost knock you off your feet but in a princess-like fashion, you are able to keep your balance and gracefully hug her back, humming, "hello, sweetheart. i heard it's your birthday today?"

she briefly pulls away from the hug to gaze up at you with stars in her eyes, nodding eagerly, "yes! i'm turning six. how'd you know?"

a curious one. not to worry though, by now you have curated an arsenal of appropriate responses to questions like these. "i know the birthdays of all the little princess' across the land." you say, booping her nose and in response she scrunches up her face with delight.

"did daddy bring you here?" she asks, holding onto your finger with one hand, and using her other to motion to her father, who was standing at the side, recording this whole interaction.

"uh." you stumble slightly over your words as look at kirishima, almost getting flustered by how manly he looks under the golden sunlight. but you quickly regain your composure, and swiftly try to redirect the topic of conversation, "yes, he did. he also told me that you haven't had any of your yummy cake yet, shall we go eat?"

all the children in unison burst into a cheer of agreement, and they all rush to the centre table, where there is a three-tiered castle cake waiting to be served.

⭑⭑⭑

you spent another hour or so with the birthday girl and all her friends: eating cake, telling stories, answering questions and doing whatever they pleased. it was a very sweet experience; red riot has clearly raised a very smart and kind young lady, and it felt nice that she was so thrilled to see you at her party.

soon though, you began to lose many of the other girl's attention and they were lured back into the various other entertainments such as the bouncy castle or pool.

the birthday girl, however, stayed loyal to you, still engaging you in a conversation about carriage rides even when all her other friends had gone elsewhere. "was a long journey here from your castle?"

"yes, quite long. but it was very worth to come see you, dear." you smile at her, and she beams right back.

as if of cue, kirishima appears and joins the discussion. "hi, my angel, are you enjoying your party?" he asks gently, flashing her an equally massive grin.

"yes!" she declares firmly, motioning to you. then, while seeing the two of you standing beside each other, you can see in her eyes the exact moment that the young girl has an idea. "did you two ride in the carriage together?"

"well.." you stutter, looking to kirishima with wide-eyes to insinuate that you think it would be best if he answered this one.

however, he's equally at a loss for words, "uh, yeah, we did. i drove the carriage and brought princess lavender here to your party!" he states proudly, clearly fishing for some praise or recognition from his daughter for his 'efforts', but she simply uses this new fact to further her agenda.

"does that mean you're friends?" she asks innocently.

as someone who is experienced in working with kids, your blood runs cold as you realise what she is hinting at. though you open your mouth to put a quick end to it, you are unfortunately interupted by a completely unsuspecting and ignorant kirishima, who stupidly responds, "of course we are!" as he slings a strong arm around your shoulders and pulls you in for a performative half-hug.

meanwhile, as you expected, his daughter's red eyes light up with joy, and she exclaims, "princess lavender is gonna be my new mommy!"

"huh?—" kirishima stammers, but it's too late. his daughter is already racing around the back garden, screaming and yelling over the top of the music, letting everyone know how happy she is that princess lavender is going to marry her daddy and be her new mom. naturally, all the parents exchange confused looks, while the children only whoop and cheer alongside her, or gripe about how lucky she is to have a princess for a mom.

you sigh and share a defeated expression with kirishima, mouthing, "i'm sorry."

even though he seems downcast and mortified, he still musters up the strength and patience to reassuringly rub your arm, "hey, don't apologise, princess. that was my fault."

you press your lips into a line, and explain, "i just mean, i'm sorry that you're going to have to tell her the truth and disappoint her on her birthday."

now his expression contorts into a puzzled one, "what do you mean?"

you blink. clearing your throat then clarifying softly, with a sympathetic glint in your eyes, "i mean that she'll probably be sad when you tell her that we aren't really getting married."

you expected him to be anguished or worried by this reminder, which is why you become the confused one, when his lips spread out into his signature bright smile, and he utters, "who said we aren't getting married?"

what did he just say? surely you must've mishead him. over the loud music and screaming children, it was likely for his voice to be warped amongst the noise. that was the only logical explanation, you reasoned. despite the fact he had left you speechless, you eventually attempt to ask him to repeat himself.

however, by then, his attention had already diverted away from you and onto his celebrating daughter. "don't run so fast! you'll hurt yourself." she doesn't stop, which leads to him to chasing after her, which in turn causes a large game of tag amongst the children.

yourself, and the other party entertainers stand aside and watch for a while, until the game gradually dies down. once it does, all the kids are now tried, thus serving as a natural conclusion to the wild birthday party.

as guests and other entertainers start leaving, the birthday girl quickly takes notice and hastily rushes up to you, clinging to your ballgown and gazing up at you with misty eyes, "are you going now?"

you pout, cupping her cheek in your gloved hand and gently stroke her cheek with your thumb, "i am; my carriage awaits. but i can't wait to come back for your next birthday."

kids attention spans are quite short and their memories are even shorter, so you assumed amongst all the chaos of the game of tag, she thankfully must have forgotten about your pending 'marriage' to her father.

that is, until he saunters up to the two of you, serving as a reminder.

her eyes light up at the sight of her dad, and she giggles, before her dad can even get a word in, "when are you gunna have a wedding?"

kirishima's eyes widen as he looks between both of you, astounded, "erm, we are still deciding." he says, and fortunately she seems contented with that answer, "have you said goodbye to princess lavender?"

she hugs you tightly, and with her face buried into the poofy fabric of your dress, she yells, "goodbye, princess lavender! thank you for coming to my birthday." then, she pulls away and looks into your eyes to say with conviction, "i'll see you soon, okay?"

"okay." you nod, with a small smile. "thank you for inviting me. i'll see you soon." you princess-wave to her, as you are escorted to the front of the house by her father.

he tells her to get her face-painted while he has a quick chat with you out front. in his driveway, he pulls out his wallet and starts counting bills, "what a day, huh?" he muses.

"yeah.." you mutter, taking the stack of money he hands to you as payment. though you didn't count it all, you could tell just by looking at the bills that he gave you around double the amount you charged. "thank you, but i think this is a bit much. i'm only expecting forty-thousand yen."

"i know. the rest is your tip. you did a great job; i can tell she really loved you." he said, a sincere softeness in his eyes, "she was a bit crazy today, so that tip is to make sure you want to come back." he laughed at his joking statement, and so did you.

"thank you so much. i'm glad you think i did a good job, and i'll make sure to keep this date free for her birthday party next year."

"oh, i'd hope she had moved on from princess lavender by then. i don't know if i can go another year watching that damn show." he scoffs playfully. he looks to you expectantly, anticipating your laughter as well, however all he is met with is a completely baffled expression.

"so, what do you need me to come back for, if not her birthday party?" you ask innocently.

he rolls his eyes and smirks, "don't be coy."

"are you looking to hire me for your own birthday, red riot?" you tease.

"definitely." he jokes back with you, but then proceeds to say in complete seriousness, "but i think i'll have you come dressed as something besides a princess."

your eyes widen and a boiling heat comes creeping over your cheeks. able to tell that he's flustered you, kirishima continues to laugh, "seriously, i'd love to have you back here sometime. not a wedding though; maybe just dinner. how does that sound?"

you blink, becoming light-headed. you pray your mind wasn't betraying you and you didn't just imagine him saying that. after a couple moments of confirming that you were indeed concious and not in a dream, you nod your head rapidly, since your throat had completely dried up.

he smiles at your response, and hums, "great. i'll send you the details."

nodding so eagerly had messed up your crown, so kirishima takes it upon himself to straighten it, locking eyes with you as he does so. "there you go, princess." he says, hands dropping to take your gloved fingers in his, then bending over slightly so he can bring your knuckles up to his lips and plant a kiss upon them. lasting a few seconds before he parts, and stands entirely upright, "so long."

you can't help but grin cheesily at his princely actions. then, getting into character one last time, you curtsey to him and wave goodbye, "till we meet again."

[doloresdisparue]

Since I've had some clown in my mentions claiming Nabokovs intent was to present Dolores as equally culpable echoing the good old "but what about her TEEN SEDUCTRESS powers to CONTROL MEN" let's collect some of what Vladimir "Strong Opinions" Nabokov said about the book and Dolly in particular:

"Some simply haven’t read the book or don’t understand it. It is not obscene; it has none of the dirt of many so-called realistic modern novels. “Most critics have failed to stress the pathetic side,” said Mrs. Nabokov. “It’s really a tragic story. Here, in the hands of this maniac is this poor girl—.” “And a very ordinary girl—” Nabokov put in…." (What Hath Lolita Wrought? Ithaca Author Distressed by Some Reactions,” Elmira Telegram, Dec. 14, 1958. )

"In Lolita, who’s the most likable person for you? It’s Lolita. It’s with her that the good reader should become friends. American readers, generally, talk of her as an unbearable kid, but you pity her as you would pity any kid. There’s something touching in her." (“While Lolita Travels Around the World, the Entomologist Nabokov and the Agronomist Robbe-Grillet Exchange Pawns on the Literary Chessboard”), Arts (Paris), October 28–Nov. 3, 1959, 4.) 

"She came entirely out of my imagination. Critics, in general, find her odious; I pity her: an orphan, alone in life with a demanding forty-year-old. When I wrote about her last meeting with Humbert, I cried, like Flaubert at the death of Madame Bovary. “She cries every night, and the critics don’t hear her sobs,” said Mrs. Nabokov." (“Nabokov Without Lolita”, Nouvelles littéraires, Oct. 29, 1959, 1–2.)

"But she’s also a very touching character. Toward the end of the book, the reader and the author pity her, this poor child who has been sacrificed on the altar of motels. It’s very sad." (“The Good Mr. Nabokov: Lolita’s Father Forsakes Nymphets for the Sake of Pushkin and Robbe-Grillet”), L’Express, Nov. 5, 1959, 32–33.)

"Is Lolita amoral? On the contrary. It has a very moral moral: don’t harm children. Now, Humbert does [...] And Lolita, isn’t she a victim and not a little slattern….After all, haven’t I indicated the evil of all this, in giving Lolita a stillborn child?" (“Conversation, Vladimir Nabokov: He Likes Humor, Tennis and Proust. He Hates Communists, Sade, Freud”),  L’Express, Jan. 26, 1961. )

"How, then, do you explain the “Lolita cult”? How do you explain all these girls who move, act, dress, and talk like Lolita? I wouldn’t know. Perhaps it is a result of the way the popular press has distorted my poor Lo. It has come up with something that has absolutely nothing to do with the book or Lolita the character. Lolita is the story of a sad little girl in a very sad world. The “Lolita cult” is something completely different." (“Love Today: How the Author of Lolita Sees It”), L’Europeo, June 23, 1966, 28–33. )

"Humbert Humbert is a vain and cruel wretch who manages to appear “touching.” That epithet, in its true, tear-iridized sense, can only apply to my poor little girl." (Paris Review, The Art of Fiction No. 40, Issue 41, Summer-Fall 1967)

"Lolita isn’t a perverse young girl. She’s a poor child who has been debauched and whose senses never stir under the caresses of the foul Humbert Humbert, whom she asks once, “how long did [he] think we were going to live in stuffy cabins, doing filthy things together…? [...] It is equally interesting to dwell, as journalists say, on the problem of the inept degradation that the character of the nymphet Lolita, whom I invented in 1955, has undergone in the mind of the broad public. Not only has the perversity of this poor child been grotesquely exaggerated, but her physical appearance, her age, everything has been transformed by the illustrations in foreign publications. Girls of eighteen or more, sidewalk kittens, cheap models, or simple long-legged criminals, are baptized “nymphets” or “Lolitas” in news stories in magazines in Italy, France, Germany, etc.; and the covers of translations, Turkish or Arab, reach the height of ineptitude when they feature a young woman with opulent contours and a blond mane imagined by boobies who have never read my book. In reality Lolita is a little girl of twelve, whereas Humbert Humbert is a mature man, and it’s the abyss between his age and that of the little girl that produces the vacuum, the vertigo, the seduction of mortal danger. Secondly, it’s the imagination of the sad satyr that makes a magic creature of this little American schoolgirl, as banal and normal in her way as the poet manqué Humbert is in his. Outside the maniacal gaze of Humbert there is no nymphet. Lolita the nymphet exists only through the obsession that destroys Humbert. Here’s an essential aspect of a unique book that has been betrayed by a factitious popularity." (“Apostrophes: Bernard Pivot Meets Vladimir Nabokov”), live television interview, Antenne-2 (Paris), May 30, 1975.)

And let's close with my blog title:

"Lolita is an indictment of all the things it expresses. It is a pathetic book dealing with the plight of a child, a very ordinary little girl, caught up by a disgusting and cruel man….But of all my books, I like it the best. " (Author of Lolita Scoffs at Furore over His Novel,” Niagara Falls Gazette, Jan. 11, 1959, 10B.)

Thanks for coming to his TED Talk

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen

warnings: ghost reader, ghost Jack Torrance, Jack is jack, swearing, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids)

AN: one last Halloween fic guys. Hope u had a good day full of tricks and treats. Happy Halloween!

“still can’t believe they rebuilt this place…” Jack mumbled as we moved among the guests. “The Stanley…” he rolled his eyes and I laughed.

“leave it to a horror writer to try to expose this place as haunted.” I scoffed. “The shining ball. Not one of them gets it. If they did, someone would know what really goes on in this fuckign place.” Jack nodded to Grady as we passed by. I tightened my grip on jacks waist.

“At least they don’t need a caretaker anymore.” Jack shrugged. “Open all year for my tricks.” He smirked.

“well shit.” I muttered. “They don’t deserve you.” I laughed. Jack chuckled as his hand slid down to cup my ass. He squeezed and I squeaked. “Jack!”

“let’s get out of here.” He whispered. I reached down and squeezed his ass. “Hands off the merchandise.” He teased.

“I’m only going to agree if I can touch.” I shot back. Jack laughed as he kissed me.

“deal.” He agreed, taking my hand and pulling me through the dark ballroom. Jack passed through someone dressed like a clown as I ran past a vampire. “Never seen this place so crowded.” He muttered. I laughed as we raced down the hallway. He pulled a key out of his pocket to open the door to room 217. We stumbled through the door as it stuck a little.

“damn. They need a caretaker.” I laughed. “Everything works like shit.”

“don’t I know it.” Jack muttered. He used the momentum of me walking behind him to throw me on the bed.

“oof.” I breathed out as I made contact with the mattress. “Sexy.” I laughed as Jack smirked at me. He undid his belt and slowly pulled down the zipper of his pants. His eyebrows jumped as he looked at me. “Fucking hot Jack. But you know that’s my job.” I pouted. Jack walked over, running his thumb over my bottom lip as it jutted out.

“I know baby.” He muttered. “but were in a hurry tonight. Wouldn’t want the nice lady and her kids that are staying in this room to come back and find it defiled.”

“they will either way so get your ass over here Jack.” I laughed. Jack shrugged and shoved his pants down.

“then we better make this quick.” He teased as he worked on my pants. Pushing them down just far enough to get the job done, he leaned down to kiss me. I cupped the back of his neck as he climbed on the bed. Jack settled over me as he lined up. “Been a while since we did this. Might not last long babe.” He warned.

“I don’t mind Jack.” I said, running my fingers through his hair. “Just fuck me like you’ll die without it.” Jack smirked as he thrust into me.

“that I can do.” He teased as he set a brutal pace. With every thrust, I moved further up the bed. I clutched at jacks shirt as my head fell back, a silent scream trapped in my throat. Jack growled deep in his chest as he dropped his head to my shoulder. “Fucking hell sweetheart. Taking me so well.”

“Fuck Jack.” I moaned. He bit my neck as I came, screaming bloody murder. “Jack. Jack. Jack. Oh fuck me.” I moaned.

“I do believe I am darling.” He laughed before kissing me again. I reached down and squeezed his ass as he hooked my leg around his waist as much as he could. “Take me. Goddammit take me.” He groaned as he orgasmed, face in my neck and hand fisting the blanket. “Oh fuck.” He breathed as he pulled out. We both got dressed before sitting down to take a breath.

“we should do this more often.” Jack said, eyeing me.

“Yeah.” I agreed. “I should get out of the maze more often.” Jack nodded as he leaned over to kiss me.

“I’d like it if you did.” He said, squeezing my leg. I smiled at him as I laid my head on his shoulder.

“I’ll take to Grady.” I promised as we got up and headed back to the party.

[gingerlee-holds]

The Puppet Master, Part 2

The long, long awaited sequel! This one is brutal heehee so if you prefer gentle twords, read my other fics for that! But a very very flustered cutie has been waiting for this for a loooong time, and who am I to deny her what she needs heehee!! I hope you enjoy!!

Written for @featherfoxx, thank you to @devious-bliss for the inspiration!

Word Count: 2,953 Reading Time: About 12 minutes Warnings: hand restraints, feet twords, hard tickling, implied mind magic

Before we begin, keep in mind that this is a reader self-insert! Now, without further ado, let me tell you how exactly you were tworded to fucking bits heehee

All that night, you blushed and squirmed through tickly dreams. You awoke at multiple points throughout the early morning hours, curled up in a ball, blushing and sweating from a ruthless puppet master playing with your subconscious. No matter what you did to distract yourself, it seemed like that pesky little magician snuck back in to ensure you hadn’t forgotten how ticklish and vulnerable you were. Squirming around and holding your favorite stuffed animal over your bright red face, it felt like this had been intentional; that sneaky puppeteer had delicately wrapped your mind in her yarn, and ever since you had visited her, you felt that yarn occasionally pulled on, filling your head with flustering, tickly thoughts. You, of course, had no way of proving this - as it was most likely your imagination making it worse for yourself - but the idea that the ginger in the purple suit had somehow fiddled with your brain was enough to fill you with a playful determination.

After the third wake-up, still kind of feeling the fuzzy ears of a fox puppet around your collarbone, you were resolved. ‘That’s it! She’s not getting away with this!’ you thought to yourself. ‘I refuse to be her plaything!’ And having made up your mind to acquire retribution, you spent the rest of the night hatching a bold plan: you would catch her by surprise and give that pesky magician a taste of her own medicine!

After a night fraught with ghostly pokes and phantom scribbles, dawn came at last, and you arose with a fire in your soul, burning for vengeance. Quickly throwing on a band t-shirt and some jorts, you grabbed a makeup brush, a spool of your bright red yarn, a few fuzzy feathers, and - grinning evilly - a brand new electric toothbrush, setting it all into a backpack along with a few water bottles. You put on some sandals and set off toward the park. You were ready.

The carnival had just opened when you arrived, which, in a way, was much more amusing than you had anticipated. A yawning attendant gave you a bag of crackerjack for free, chuckling and saying he “can’t be bothered finding the receipt printer.” You almost burst out laughing when you saw someone in clown makeup scrolling through their phone while dressed in street clothes. The carnival in the morning reminded you of a college student - wild and carefree, partying with reckless abandon into the night, only to be rudely awakened the following morning to set it all up again. It’s no coincidence that the circus visiting your town was primarily staffed by college-aged folks.

Nevertheless, you soon found the tent you were looking for. The purple and green tent looked just as cozy as it had the night before, but the sign in front differed. It read: “The Puppet Master Returns Tonight @ 6! You won’t want to miss it!” Instead of being pulled invitingly open, the tent flaps were shut tight, except for a tiny bit at the bottom where the flaps had pulled apart slightly. ‘Perfect!’ you thought.

Crawling inside, you were surprised at how little the mood in the tent had changed. The lighting inside was cozy, as it had been last night, even though the sun was out. The sounds of birdsong outside faded, too, and if you didn’t know any better, you could even say that you had entered some kind of pocket dimension. No doubt some more of that magician’s trickery. Everything looked as it had: the plush floor, the stage, the curtains… but where was the Puppet Master?

Only one of the curtains was closed, but the other was still open, showing the stage. All of the puppets had been put away in a toy chest, and beside it, your target slept, snuggled to a pillow. The Puppet Master looked different; where she had been chubby before, now she was somewhat skinnier. Her hair was longer and messier, but that was most likely the fault of her sleep. Instead of her suit, she wore a pair of fuzzy pajamas and socks and a cartoonish nightcap drooped over her head. A snorer, too, you observed as you approached. The pillow was less to support her and more to give her something to hold onto, and she cuddled it close. She almost looked too cute to tickle, but you knew your mission. 

‘It’s too easy,’ you said to yourself, holding onto the straps of your backpack and beginning to approach the stage confidently. You made it about halfway before shenanigans struck. 

The plush, comfy floor you walked on seemed to provide less and less support as you went on, each step sinking you deeper into the softness beneath. Once you were halfway, you had sunk into the plushness up to your waist, and, grumbling, you pulled yourself forward. Instead of a mattress, this plushness reminded you of a foam pit, and after a few more steps, you were completely stuck. The surrounding plush floor held you snugly up to your chest, and much to your dismay, it had now become too difficult to pull yourself out. Moreover, you quickly discovered that you couldn’t pull back either: you were stuck in the comfy, foamlike, plush floor, conformed to your body shape entirely. 

“The hell is this!” you muttered out loud by mistake. Unfortunately for you, the Puppet Master softly snorted as she awoke, yawning and rubbing her eyes. She reached over, picked up a pair of round glasses, scratched her head, and stood up to see her intruder. 

The sight of you, frustrated with the floor and confused at your predicament, sent her into hysterics. “Heeheeheeheehee! Ohohooh, dehehearrr!!” she laughed, hugging herself around her belly. “I-ihihihit seeeheeheems- heehehehehee!! - thahat sohomeone was a lihittle eager to return~!!”

Growling in humiliation, you hung your head to hide your face. The element of surprise had been entirely lost!

The sleepy girl before you padded over softly on her fuzzy socks, hopping off the stage and onto the plush floor, which didn’t sink under her as it did for you. Giggling helplessly at your condition, she laid down in front of you on her stomach, swinging her feet in the air behind her as she booped your nose. “Hey there again, cutie pie! Missed me that much~?” 

You said nothing, doing your best to retain your dignity.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about me, huh~?” You suddenly looked up at her. She smiled as if she had known what your night had been like for you. Giggling at your shocked face, she continued, “Oh, you’re too precious. Don’t worry, hun! It’s only natural!” She reached over and ruffled your hair. “Anyone who needs this place finds it! That way, I can play with only the people I know will enjoy it as much as I do!” The Puppet Master suddenly tugged the air in front of your forehead, and all at once, your mind rushed with tickly thoughts and teases, all the memories of yesterday pushing forward and coloring your cheeks a bright red. It was her all along!

As you racked your mind trying to make sense of this information, you were interrupted by a sudden stream of bubbly giggles emerging from your throat. The Puppet Master’s head-scratching reached your neck, and her nails gently traced around and around. She smiled fondly, her whole expression painted with affection at your adorable glee.

“Now, let’s see whatcha brought! I’m super curious!” She crawled around behind you and sat, happily picking up your backpack.

“No, no! Don’t look in there!” you hastily said, but she had already unzipped it and was looking through its items. 

“Oh! New yarn, looks like! And… feathers? Is that a makeup brush…? Hmm…” She went silent for a bit, and you jumped when you suddenly heard her voice right in your ear: “Trying to get revenge, huh~?” she purred. “How absolutely adorable you humans are, thinking you can outsmart me~!”

Well, that cleared a lot up. She wasn’t human! That’s how she had all that power! What was she??

“Hey!” Her snapping her fingers in each ear brought your attention back. “Got a question for ya!” Pulling your bag of tools behind her, she crawled back to where you could see her. “Have you ever heard of Cat’s Cradle?”

Tilting your head a bit in confusion, you nodded. “Yeah, it’s that kids game with the string.” 

“Y’ever played?”

“Few times, while ago.”

She clapped her hands happily. “Perfect!” she exclaimed. The magician pulled out your red yarn from the bag but, to your shock, pulled out an identical spool of pink yarn after it. She unspooled a long string of each and cut it with a simple tug. “Okay, here’s yours!” she said, handing you your red yarn while she held the pink one. “Watch me. Try to follow along.”

Seeing as you didn’t have anything else to do, you sighed and tried your best to follow along as she skillfully began creating the Cat’s Cradle. She giggled a tiny bit when she finished, setting her yarn down to help you out by tugging the yarn here and moving your fingers there. In the end, you held a rather complex and beautifully made string figure between your fingers!

“Bravo! Oh, you’re remarkable at this!” She clapped again, making you smile sheepishly. However, it didn’t take you long before you realized you couldn’t untangle your hands from the yarn. Harder and harder you tugged, but your fingers were very well tied, your hands bound by the pretty Cradle. “Oop, here, let me help you with that…” she muttered, taking one of the ends of your yarn and giving it a gentle tug, and all at once, your hands clapped together, bound tight. “There! Now c’mon, cutie, let’s getcha out of my floor.”

Blushing at the realization that the game had been a ruse, you let yourself get tugged out from the floor by your yarned-up hands, feeling the ground become more and more firm underneath you. “T-that was a nasty trick!” you whined.

“Oh, you should have seen it coming a mile away. I’m a Puppet Master! Nimble fingers come with the job~,” she teased as she wiggled her fingers against your cheeks, making you sputter. Gently, her soft hands guided you to the floor so you were lying down on your back before she effortlessly grabbed your bound hands and moved them above your head, saying, as if it were an afterthought, “These can’t move now.” It shouldn’t have surprised you, but you were a bit bewildered by the fact that she was correct: you couldn’t pull your hands down as much as you tried. 

She suddenly gasped as she got an idea. “I know another game we can play! It’s called, how long can my ticklish little puppet stay silent while I tickle them!”

“T-that sounds like a terrible game!” you spat, and she patted your head in response.

“I don’t know… you did intrude on me while I was sleeping, so I think that deserves a little punishment~! Then again, maybe it’ll be a reward since I know you’ll enjoy it so, so much~!”

Before you could voice any more criticisms, you yelped in surprise when she pulled out all your tools and set them before you. 

“Hm… I can’t hold all of these at once… I know! I’ll need help!” She whistled, and the toy chest sprung open, a group of five puppets rushing through the air to her. “Here, Wolf, you can hold the makeup brush, and I’m trusting you two to hold these!” she said, handing the two extra-fluffy feathers to Lion and Cat. She removed the electric toothbrush as if she were holding a precious relic. “This one’s mine~!”

You didn’t even have time to say, “Wait-!” before it started~!

The two puppets with no tools, Snake and Owl, dove in first. Owl, all covered in fuzzy feathers, nuzzled into your neck, chin, and ears, hooting and cooing at you. “Whooooo’s a ticklish puppet! Whooooo’s a cutie patootie! Who? Who?” she asked, snuggling her soft felt beak into your ear. All by herself, Owl was sending you into squeaky, blushy laughter, but don’t worry, it would get a lot worse! <3

Snake, meanwhile, had slithered his sneaky way under your shirt, nudging your shorts down a bit to reveal your hips. “Sssssssscore~!!!” he victoriously said as he wound his way around and around like a belt, his surprisingly tickly underbelly making you jump and buck around. Besides the occasional hiss as his felt tongue flickered across your lower tummy, he stayed silent as he pulled wave after wave of laughs out from your lungs.

The Puppet Master sat, smiling and watching you being slowly picked apart so adorably by her cute little puppets. She was content to wait until you began getting used to the current tickles before ramping them up. After all, she had until six before her next show, so she was content to make you pay for your impudent intrusion!

Wolf’s patience wore out first, and after a lengthy squeal on your part when Snake dipped his head into your belly button, he growled and dove in, armed and ready with the makeup brush. The Puppet Master chuckled and pulled your shirt up to your ribs for him. Quickly swatting the reptilian puppet out of the way with the brush, he dipped it into your giggle button and swirling it around and around your tummy. He looked up and grinned happily at the results: deep belly laughter erupted from Mt. You, bouncing about the tent like a rubber ball, much to the amusement of the Puppet Master, who began giggling with you. To celebrate, Wolf started to nibble around your ribs while continuing to paint with the makeup brush. 

Lion and Cat, wielding their feathers like knights holding their swords, looked up at the puppeteer pleadingly, happily cheering when she nodded as their sign of permission. The two puppets flew down and began happily humming a circus tune as they started going to town on your sides. Cat, soft and sweet, hummed innocently as she wiggled the fuzzy feather up and down your right side, up and down, mercilessly rhythmic. Lion, by contrast, was anything but sweet as she giggled cruelly, turning the feather around to the pointy tip and, using it like a quill pen, began writing and scribbling over your left side. It was brutal! You thrashed away from the mean scribbles and pokes, only to be met by gentle feather strokes and wiggles! You were already shrieking through your laughter, yelping with glee, and unable to beg for mercy anymore. At around the twenty-minute mark, the Puppet Master herself made her move. 

You had absolutely no way to pay attention to what she was doing, so no alarm bells went off when she began crawling down to your feet and pulling off your sandals, but you could only go bug-eyed and squeal when you heard the unmistakable sound of the electric toothbrush turning on. Your thrashing increased a bit, but the other puppets made sure you were far too weak to put up any significant resistance. The Puppet Master smiled at you with pitiless satisfaction and adoring affection as she used the toothbrush under your toes on your right foot, scribbling across your left sole with her nails. That was the final straw for you. Tears rolled down your cheeks in rivers as you lay limply, unable to do anything but sit there and take your tickles like a good puppet. Your laughter had gone silent a while ago. Yet, this time, the puppets were out for metaphorical blood as they wrecked your spots creatively, curiously, and mercilessly. 

The second you began coughing, though, everything stopped. All the puppets dropped to the floor, inanimate once more, and the Puppet Master sprang up to get some water from your bag. She put the bottle to your lips, and you gulped it down eagerly, smiling at the relief it gave. She brought your hands back down again, and suddenly, you found that the strings fell apart, sloughing off your hands and allowing you to free yourself from the tangle with ease. Curling up into a ball, you finished your water, and the Puppet Master finished her water shortly after. 

“You feeling okay, cutie~?” 

“Y-yyeheheesss! G-gohohoshh…” 

“Didn’t think I’d go that far, didja~? I’m just a sweet, innocent girl, huh~? Not when you wake me up before I’ve finished my sleep!”

“S-sohohohorryy!!”

“Oh, don’t worry! This was such a pleasant wake-up ~!” With that, she quickly scooped you up in her arms, carrying you across the room and onto the stage, laying you down beside her. “Now, I think we could both use the sleep, right~? You must not have slept well, I’m guessing~!”

You nodded, all the sleepiness hitting you like a freight train as you yawned and got comfy on the floor. 

“Figures~!” She yawned, too, and wiggled over to you. “Besides, it’ll be nice to have something other than a pillow to spoon.”

The two of you were out like an identical pair of lights, you being snuggled by the petite magician. No dreams bothered you in your sleep as you floated in the void sea of the subconscious mind. What would await you when you awoke was no concern of yours because, for now, you were comfy, exhausted, and being snuggled by an adorably sweet… whatever she is. You’ll figure that out later. For all your life afterward, you would never recall a more peaceful slumber than on the floor of that tent, cradled like a cat by an adoring and tickle-hungry Puppet Master!

The end ~!

Read the previous entry in The Puppet Master!

[averys-nightmare-zone]

since landing is closing down soon, i decided to take a quick break from SUPERSTRUCTURE (although i will be back don't you worry two fans) and made some fashion moodboards for the 14 fears from the magnus archives to accompany this post there will be some notes and insight on each collage under the cut.

the buried: the buried was really underutilized in the podcast imo. some of my favorite episodes revolved around the buried like lost john's cave and we all ignore the pit. i really hope this did it justice since jonny sims did not.

the corruption: oh my god this one was so hard to make. my google search history is full of terms like "bug infested dress", "moldy clothing" and "yucky fashion" the corruption girlies really seemed to like my last post so i felt obligated to get it right. i think i did okay.

the dark: making a black on black collage look decent is really hard 😭 I was originally going to go victorian for this one but ended up doing nu goth instead since I thought victorian fit a lot better with the end.

the desolation: this is one of my favorites. there's somthing so satisfying about combining ashy greys and black with orange it just tickles my brain. other than that, i don't really have any notes

the end: as mentioned earlier, i went with victorian mourning wear for the end. i mean queen victoria herself was in mourning and only wore black for forty years. that era is so synonymous with death it only felt fair to work its customs and fashion into my end board.

the eye: eye avatars are legally required to wear academic fashion. it just comes with the job description. i don't make the rules. have fun being jonathan sims

the flesh: this one really took me down a rabbit hole. first:, i could only find those anti-vegan shirts that your unemployed uncle wears to the family barbecue and then i came across this fashion designer and spent like an hour on her shop trying to figure out how she got her clothes to look like that. after that it took me another two hours to find all of the accessories. pinterest has been both my best friend and worst enemy over the course of this project.

the hunt: i am so sorry the supernatural gas leakage returned to my home when i made this and I age regressed into being 15 again. when i was making this i pictured it more as the trevor and julia flavor of the hunt instead of say, daisy. god breast america.

the lonely: this one was pretty easy to make once i got a handle on the color scheme. the aesthetic of the lonely has always striken me as a romanticization of the melancholy. think wanderer above the sea of fog. So i gave this one all the things i would romantasize about my life at my loneliest, which is why there's a teacup and a heart locket. the book was also a part of that, but it also doubles as a recreation of a leitner by theponderingalpaca on reddit.

the slaughter: yeah yeah i know the slaughter is supposed to be about war as well as murder, but forgive me for not making a fashion collage about military uniforms. that's really boring. i had just watched woodstock '99 before i made this though and decided to go more for that angry punk/metalhead fashion that korn was wearing in that concert. them and limp biskit are the closest we'll ever get to irl grifters bone.

the spiral: i made this moodboard twice. i know its crazy that the fear meant to represent insanity is hard to pin down, but i think i did it better the second time around. the first one read too much as regular kidcore/decora for my taste.

the stranger: i had to do this one last. i could not for the life of me figure out how to make a circus/uncanny fashion board without just doing clown fashion. i'm still not entirely sure how i feel about how it turned out, but at least the masks are cool.

the vast: vast avatars rise up!! this is a mike crew fan blog and i only wanted to base the fashion around him. he's in the top three list of guys i'm autistic about with elliott stardew valley and daniel powell from archive 81.

the web: not much to say here except if you are a web avatar you have to wear a cunty dress. it is simply non negotiable

thank you to @artmadval for giving me the idea to do this with your amazing fashion archives art, along with everyone else who went through all my yapping to get here. love yall!

[bloodstainedsapphic]

crush + garreth pretty pls <3

Garreth Weasley + Crush this was from a long time ago, but life happened and now I'm inspired to get creative and come back! if i'm late, pls forgive me! also, i found my groove here when i wrote it from the perspective of you developing a crush on him. enjoy!

Upon meeting Garreth, you didn't take him too seriously. He was cute, sure, but also quite the harbinger of chaos in many of your classes, especially potions. He was known as the class clown by many.

It was only your luck that you kept getting paired with him in potions class, as you seemed to be the only student left who wouldn't tear him a new one when his 25th experiment exploded. It just wasn't in your nature to be anything besides supportive. His dream had to begin somewhere, did it not?

After the anticipated explosion finally happened, you took a warm cloth and started to dab Garreth's dress shirt meticulously to remove forming stains. "As if you needed to wreck another shirt, Weasley," you teased. "The face you make when you're focused is cute," he said.

Hold the fuck up. Your concentration flitted from the stain and up into his green eyes, which looked down at you with an amused yet adoring expression. You didn't even realize you had a concentration face!

"I- I- thanks. All clean now!" you stammered out, removing the cloth (therefore your hand) from his chest and looking away, your face turning as red as his hair. He had done it. That sweet little comment made you realize you had a massive crush on the bloke.

Suddenly, you were nervous about every class you shared with him. An urge to impress him that hadn't been there before now flooded your every rational thought, and it only became worse since you were now aware that you were next to him in almost every class.

Garreth, sweet as ever, noticed you stiffen up but had no clue why. "No need to be so nervous, love, it's just a basic charm. You'll kill it!"

Meanwhile, you're just trying not to notice how nice his hands look while he's speaking to you. He talks with his hands a lot.

A few weeks of sheer torment pass before you can muster up the courage to confront the fact that this curly-red-headed boy was at the forefront of every dream of yours at this point.

Getting to class before anyone else could arrive, you left a note on his potions station. Unsigned. How bold. You had purposefully seated yourself as far across the classroom as possible this morning and left it, which was noticeable considering your spot had been next to him for the past month.

The bugger, always second to enter, walked up to his station without a care in the world, but just before he sat down, a troubled look washed over him, and he stopped to look around. His gaze settled on you. He addressed you with a cheeky grin. "Please tell me I didn't scare away the last person willing to work with me in our year. I'll miss you, love. Is there any way I can get my buddy back?"

Oh god, oh god, oh god. You sheepishly pointed toward the note Garreth had yet to notice, your plan for discretion failing more spectacularly by the second.

His eyes searched for your target and landed on the note, raising a brow and picking it up. Wordlessly, he unwrapped the letter and scanned the page. It was concise, saying 'i like you.'

Almost immediately, his head snapped up to meet your gaze again, this time far more stunned. Pointing to himself, he silently mouthed the words. "You, like me?"

With a sheepish smile and flushed appearance, you nodded and mouthed back. "I like you," and then gestured to yourself, silently asking if he reciprocated.

The Gryffindor boy was stunned into silence. Garreth breathed and rested his hands against his station to collect his bearings. After a moment that ached on for a century, he did something entirely unexpected. He pulled out his own notepad and quill.

You watched him painstakingly etch his own note, which he then folded with the utmost precision as you waited for what seemed to be ages.

Finally, with the goofiest, lopsided grin you had ever seen Garreth wear, he walked over and set the folded note you watched him write down in front of you.

You gulped and looked down, reading the exact words you had written him, but in his own handwriting instead. 'I like you too.'

"Now, will you come be my potions partner again? No one will take me!"

You wholeheartedly accepted and let him drag you back to your shared station, hand in hand.

Couldn't have worked out any sweeter, you reckon.

[leviathanlazarus]

Scream for Me

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Jake Kiszka

Word Count: ~3300

Warnings: smut!! [kind of a variation of a fear kink? Praise, dirty talking, non-penetrative sex] 18+ only!

A/N: In honor of continuing my Halloween season slash fics, I present to you Danny getting turned on when Jake gets scared. Hope you enjoy ;)

P.S. I'm posting this quite early in the month since I'm very much in the spirit AND I have a Danny x Josh fic and a Danny x Sam fic coming later, both Halloween-themed <3

---

Danny couldn’t believe the theme of the haunted hayride, which Jake had neglected to tell him about prior to buying tickets. Not that knowing it would have stopped him, it was just, as he relayed to Jake, “so 2016.” “The Year of the Clown” was long gone as far as he was concerned, and the thought of being preyed upon by guys dressed up in rainbow suits and copious amounts of makeup just sounded like a variation of playing a show. Jake, on the other hand, was brimming with nervous energy as he made the decision to knowingly torment himself.

“Aw, Jakey,” Danny said with genuine concern, wrapping his arm around him. They were stuck waiting in line for what felt like ages already, the night air feeling exceptionally chilly while being trapped in such a wide open space. It was nice to see the stars so vividly, Danny thought as he looked up, and the moon, which was a shockingly bright globe in the obsidian sky. The perfect kind of spooky October night.

“I’m just cold,” Jake replied, but Danny knew the slight tremors his body kept going through were more than from just the autumnal chill. He leaned into Danny’s touch all the same, snuggling against the denim jacket that was keeping Danny perfectly comfortable. 

“It’s okay to be scared,” Danny assured him, his gaze wandering over to the few stands of treats, the scent of fryer oil and popcorn wafting through the air. “Clowns are scary. You want a funnel cake?”

“You said clowns are outdated,” Jake reminded him, looking up at Danny with flushed cheeks. “I think you also said ‘boring.’”

“They’re not my thing,” Danny said with a sigh, foregoing the idea of funnel cakes. Jake hadn’t even wanted to smoke before this event, too worried he’d become paranoid and freak out even more. For a while, Danny didn’t understand why Jake wanted to do these scary things every Halloween season. Their time in the haunted cabin had been enough for him to believe that Jake wanted to avoid ghosts, ghouls, goblins and whatever else, real or not. But the more they went to haunted hayrides and haunted houses, walked along ghost tours, sat through spooky stories and horror movies with Josh and Sam, Danny realized that when Jake got scared, Danny got turned on. He didn’t know why, nor did he want to know why. He accepted that, no matter how tortuous it seemed, Jake loved being scared and Danny loved seeing him scared.

He hadn’t told Jake that though. This was their first Halloween together. He was still nervous about it. Way more nervous about that than about some silly clowns.

“Like they’re my thing?” Jake said with a scoff, burrowing further into Danny’s side. “I still remember that one from the haunted house last year. You know, the one that came at us with a hatchet?”

“Hey, Jake,” Danny began, speaking the words softly against the top of his boyfriend’s head. “Do you also remember that the hatchet was plastic?”

Jake groaned. “Okay, yeah, sure, it’s all fake. But it feels real.”

“That’s the point. Besides, I know you like it.”

Jake looked up again, dark eyes even darker in the night. “What else do I like, Danny?”

Danny chuckled, rubbing his hand over Jake’s shoulder. He definitely knew what he liked–seeing Jake all flustered and red-faced, hearing him gasp and pant, feeling the squeeze of his hand when things got intense. He thought about opening up about that, actually, revealing how much it turned him on to see Jake so vulnerable and feral, but then the line was moving.

“We’re up,” Danny said, freeing Jake from his hold, but Jake immediately latched onto his arm as they approached the wagon. 

Even their guide along the ride spooked Jake when he hopped onto the wagon–not a clown, but a huge–in both width and height–man dressed in bloody rags with fake scars and cuts all over his face. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” the man boomed, and Jake squished himself into Danny’s side even more. With that, the wagon started to roll shakily over the grass, and the guide began his formal introduction into, yes, what was still, apparently, the year of the clown. 

There wasn’t much happening during the first couple minutes of meandering through the field, but whenever a distant shout, grunt or scream could be heard, Jake trembled. Danny held him close and watched–he wouldn’t get as scared as Jake would, but he could still get spooked, and he had to admit that the atmosphere was pretty chilling. 

“We must beware the apple orchard,” the guide said, his voice unnaturally low but quieter as he addressed the crowd huddled together on the edges of the cart. “What was once an innocent field of fruit now bears something insidious. Something demonic.” At that, Danny felt Jake stiffen beside him. “Unnatural creatures have made this place their home. If we move swiftly, we might just–”

A girl sitting nearby shrieked as something–a clown, of course–charged through the trees, swinging a bloody machete. Danny felt himself stiffen with anticipation while Jake hooked his arm around his middle, both of them silent. The clown that had terrorized the girl was making his rounds, bobbing around the edges of the cart and pretending to slash people with his blade. 

“Oh god, no!” Jake yelped when the clown thrust himself toward him and Danny, and Danny fought the instinct to kick the clown away. If it were a real threat, he thought to himself, he’d do anything possible to protect Jake. He hoped that his boyfriend knew that. 

What was just a few seconds must have felt like an eon for Jake, who was still shaking with adrenaline after the clown simmered and was left behind, waving the machete as the wagon moved onward. Danny let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his eyes roaming the apple trees as he asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’m alive,” Jake said, bringing one hand to his chest. “But I might not be by the end of this.”

But Jake persevered through the apple orchard. He survived the small flurry of clowns that attacked with various weapons, shrieking and cackling and making the entire wagon shriek in response; Danny, meanwhile, found that he was paying far more attention to Jake than anything else. It was hard not to. He was so in tune with him–how tightly he was holding his breath and the sound of his voice, how it changed when he got scared, becoming a little higher and rougher. He was also very aware of how snugly Jake was impressed upon him, like he was permanently glued to him and Danny liked it that way. 

Even Danny felt a little uneasy though when the wagon came to a complete stop inside of a barn. It was completely dark except for intermittent splashes of red and white light, allowing him to see the fake blood on the walls, the bones and fake severed limbs, the eerie clown paintings. Everything was complete with a huge fake corpse hanging overhead. 

“A mechanical problem,” the guide announced. “Unfortunate to stop here, but I’m sure we’ll be moving again shortly.”

“Danny…” Jake said quietly, squeezing his hand around Danny’s wrist so hard it actually hurt. 

Of course, as soon as Jake said that, demonic laughter echoed from all around. Jake squeezed even tighter but Danny didn’t move. Jake needed him in that moment and there was nothing hotter than that, and not even the sudden onslaught of grating music and the laughter growing louder as an impressively large clown shot out from the darkness could take away his own thrills. Jake began clawing desperately at Danny’s arm with one hand and gripping his thigh with the other, squeaking and whimpering right next to his ear, but the clown decided to terrify the group of people on the opposite side.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Jake said with a hard exhale when the wagon abruptly started to roll again. But the huge clown ran toward it and Danny was shocked that the clown zeroed in on them next, trying to fake-slash at both of their legs. Jake squealed and really did try to kick the clown away, which made Danny laugh. Jake yelped again and begged, “Danny, help!”

The clown grinned wildly, teeth covered in fake blood, but the wagon sped up; Danny watched as the clown finally stayed motionless, which was actually more ominous to him than the man moving, giving Jake some room to breathe. Danny wrapped his arm around him once more. “It’s over, Jake,” he said. “I’m pretty sure that was the big finale.”

Indeed it was. All that was left were lingering screams and maniacal laughter, which kept Jake’s hands all over Danny until they were back to the beginning. Those hands and that tight little body so close to his during their short night of terror had elicited a different sort of adrenaline rush within Danny, so intense by the time they were getting off the wagon that he knew he needed to finally do something about it. But now Jake actually wanted a funnel cake, and patience was a virtue Danny proudly possessed. 

Jake was frantically munching on the fried dough, powdered sugar sticking to his fingers, while they sat on the hood of Danny’s car. Danny couldn’t keep one thing to himself much longer. “You’re so cute,” he said. It was ordinary, something any boyfriend would say, but when Jake looked up at him, he added, “Even cuter when you’re scared.”

Jake’s eyes widened and he paused chewing for a moment, looking perplexed. When he resumed finishing that bite, he shook his head before meeting Danny’s gaze again. “Cute when I’m scared?” he repeated with suspicion, narrowing his eyes.

Danny reached over and stole a piece of funnel cake for himself. “Yeah. You are.” Jake just kept looking at him, so Danny shrugged. “What? I can’t be the first person to point that out.”

“Uh, yeah you are, Danny.”

That sort of pleased him, actually. Danny looped his arm around Jake’s waist. “It kinda turns me on, honestly.”

Jake coughed into his arm, powdered sugar dotting the sleeve. “Really?”

“Yeah. You get all flustered. You hold onto me all tight,” Danny told him, still feeling the ghost of Jake’s hand wrapped painfully around his wrist. “It makes me feel like you need me.”

“I do need you.” Jake hopped off to toss the paper plate into a nearby trash can. He put his hands on his hips when he turned back around to face him. “But you didn’t save me from that last clown.”

Danny slid off the hood and went to him, circling Jake into a loose hug. “If a real psychotic clown were after you, I’d save you. I’d do anything for you.” One part of their relationship he was still getting used to because it scared him more than clowns or ghosts or demons ever could–PDA. He lifted Jake’s face to his and kissed him; Jake’s hands gripped the open body of Danny’s jacket, showing that, yes, he really did need him. When Danny pulled back, Jake looked calm again. “You really do turn me on when you get scared, Jake,” Danny told him, holding the sides of his face. “I guess that makes me weird. But, whatever. I’m glad you’re so into the spooky shit since it pays off for me.”

Jake pursed his lips a little, a quizzical look on his pretty face. “How come I never get to see you scared?”

“There’s only one thing that scares me.”

“Which is?”

Danny moved his hands to Jake’s shoulders. “Losing you. Losing Josh and Sam.” 

Jake’s hands gently squeezed Danny’s waist. “Oh come on, Danny. That’ll never happen. We’re way more likely to get attacked by a psycho clown.”

Danny laughed and began to steer Jake to the car. That reassurance meant everything to him. Sometimes he worried, felt that dreadful fear, that someday it would all be gone and nothing truly scared him like that thought. And now, still feeling residual arousal from Jake’s terror and the swell of love in his heart, he needed to finally get his own kicks tonight. 

“You’re brave,” Danny said softly while he walked behind Jake, reaching in front of him to get the back passenger door open. “You keep doing these things even though you know they scare you.”

“I think that’s called ‘stupidity,’ Danny,” Jake replied, then looked back over his shoulder. “Why are we going back here?”

“You got to feel such a rush tonight,” Danny told him, urging him to get in the backseat. With a curious look, Jake did, tucking his legs in, and Danny followed. “Can I get mine?” He kept moving forward, pushing Jake onto his back, and didn’t wait for a reply. He just kissed his beautiful, valiant boyfriend, gripping Jake’s sides to start feeling for the warmth of his skin beneath the layers of clothing.

Jake kissed him back, bringing his hands to Danny’s hair, tugging lightly. Danny took that invitation and ran with it, the rush of his own lust and love churning to life again; he kissed deep and slow, how his instincts often guided him when it came to Jake. He was so precious–the thought of ever losing him really did terrify Danny. Danny wanted to keep him safe forever, to make Jake feel nothing but completely adored. 

When Danny’s hand made it down to the fly of Jake’s jeans, Jake said, “Someone might see.”

Danny pressed his lips to his neck. “I’m not afraid of that.” Those soft kisses elicited the quiet little moans he was after; Jake was so responsive to him even if he was a little worried about catching a glimpse of what they were doing in the dark. Jake clutched to him fiercely when Danny got his fly undone and slipped his hand past the denim and cotton boxers, wiggling against the seat.

“You deserve to feel good after all that shit out there,” Danny said, lifting himself up enough to spit into his hand. Jake squirmed even more when that hand was brought down to his cock, growing harder with each stroke Danny offered. 

“What about you?” Jake asked between another exchange of lips and tongue; Danny was back to kissing him all that he could. It was all he ever needed sometimes, Danny felt–anything else was a bonus. 

“This is what I need. To make you feel good. To show you that I’m here,” Danny told him as Jake’s fingers raked through his hair. Jake moaned a little louder at that, arching into his touch. Danny’s urgency revved up at the enthusiastic response, and he wished for more of this, for Jake to be so vividly his all the time. They’d get there, he knew, and he was ultimately absolutely fine with taking things slowly. There was a beauty in that. And right now, he might not have been able to see much of Jake as he wanted, but he could feel him–the rapid flutter of his pulse, the rising and falling of his chest, the warmth of his skin which became even warmer after every press of Danny’s lips. 

Jake reached down, feeling more for himself, and Danny’s breath tightened at the slight squeeze around his own cock, still so stiff and wanting, trapped underneath his pants. “I wanna make you feel good too, Danny.” 

Danny couldn’t say no to that. He hastily got his dick out with one hand, sat back, feet on the floor, and brought Jake to a sitting position in his lap. “You make me feel good all the time,” he said, bringing his hands to Jake’s hips, urging him to ride as if they were actually fucking. Jake did, working into a steady sequence of shallow humps that rubbed their cocks together. Danny groaned softly, blinking through the dark, small space to see as much as he could. “Oh my god, Jake–my brave boy, so fucking hot.” The words were unconscious, instinctive–with Jake, Danny struggled to have a filter. He realized Jake actually liked it that way. “Love seeing you tremble. Love hearing you gasp. I love when you do it for me.”

“Who knew,” Jake began with a harsh roll of his hips. “That you were such a freak.” The sentence ended with a huff and he dove forward to smother Danny with wet, hurried kisses. He stuffed a hand between them, too small to wrap all the way around both of their leaking erections but Danny moaned with appreciation at the effort and the added friction. Jake touching him anywhere in anyway drove him crazy.

The sudden glow of yellow headlights behind them allowed Danny to see him more completely, and the sight of him with his pink cheeks, soft gaze from his dark eyes and crumpled collar just fueled his inner frenzy. “Fuck, you’re so fucking cute, so pretty,” he breathed out raggedly, fumbling with that disshelved shirt to get it unbuttoned. When he did, he cupped Jake’s hip with one hand and felt along his chest with the other, tweaking a nipple and making Jake shudder just like he wanted. “My brave boy is so fucking gorgeous, so fucking hot riding me.” The headlights disappeared and Danny pulled him forward, latching onto his neck with his teeth as he shot between them, a trail of sticky wetness on his shirt and Jake’s bare stomach. 

He’d fully intended for Jake to finish first. He grabbed Jake’s ass and started doing the work, grinding up into him and thrusting them together even harder despite his spent dick feeling a little just over the edge of being too sensitive. Jake’s increasingly loud moans and curses were music to Danny’s ears; those hands on his shoulder and in his hair were the grounding pull he needed to always feel. 

“So strong,” Jake noted quietly while Danny kept him in motion. He pressed his face to the side of Danny’s neck, the soft whimpers trickling through Danny’s ear. “You’d really do anything for me?”

Danny nodded, squeezing his ass. “Anything, baby. Right now, I wanna make you come.” He found the space between them and took Jake’s cock in his hand, stroking as Jake kept grinding on top of his thighs. “One of these days, I’m gonna make you scream for me.” 

Just as Danny lifted Jake’s mouth to his again, he stifled what Danny knew would have been a sharper, louder sound if they were somewhere private. Instead, a whimper escaped his lips and he stiffened, tightening up severely before he quickly went slack, body loose and heavy atop Danny’s own.

Not dissimilar to how it had been earlier in the night, Jake snuggled into him, resting his face in the crook of Danny’s neck with a sigh. “I’ve known you how many years, Danny?” he began, and Danny could feel him smiling. “Yet you continue to surprise me.”

Danny held him, stroking his hands along Jake’s back. “Hopefully in a good way and not like those clowns tearing out of the woods.”

Jake planted a big kiss to Danny’s forehead before sliding off to the side, tucking himself back into his jeans. “You continue to surprise me in the best way.” He sighed, resting his head in his hand, leaning against the seat, and smiled a little. “I know you’d do anything for me. For any of us. Same goes for us, to you, you know.”

Danny reached out, taking Jake’s other hand to hold between them. “I know.”

The smile grew, turning a little salacious. “So does this mean you’ll take me to that haunted house next weekend?” 

Danny lifted Jake’s hand to kiss his knuckles. “Anything you want. But does that mean we get to fuck around again after?”

Jake laughed, head thrown back. “Yeah, sure, as long as you protect me from all the monsters.” 

---

Tagging: @mackalah @kissingthegoat @clairesjointshurt @bizzielisteningtogreta

If you'd like to be tagged in any of my fics, you can go here or DM me :)

[getinthefuckingcarkitten]

“...And then she got dragged out of the classroom, for like, the third time this week. I mean, mentioning condoms in the most religious teacher’s class is really… Hey, Avie, are you listening?” The girl leaned forward, her elbows sliding a bit on top of her crossed legs.

To be honest, Avery was only half-registering whatever she had been prattling on about for the last 30 minutes. She had only asked about school because she felt a little guilty for having “accidentally” pushed the smaller girl into the car’s door, hard enough to make her yelp like a little dog when you kick it. She wasn’t even really angry at the girl, but she took a bit too long saying goodbye to her friend outside school and Avery was a busy woman with places to be and networking to get done, so really, it was just a bit of an overreaction.

“...Yes.” Avery lied, nodding half-heartedly. “It was a real faux-pas of this girl, mhm.”

She seemed so clearly disinterested that the girl sighed and gave up, going quiet for a brief moment. Those were rare with this one, talkative as she was. At least she picked up on those little clues, and there was no need to tell her to shut up.

“Your bed is so comfortable!” The girl commented. Maybe Avery mentally praised her too soon, as she heard the bed creak while the girl swung her own body back and forth like a toddler on a sugar high.

Avery wouldn’t normally take anyone to her house, much less a girl like the one currently sitting on her bed, in her gaudy make-up and extremely short school skirt. As charming as she could be in parties, it turned out that the party girl persona was not only a persona, as Avery would have hoped. She was exactly as loud and hyperactive in her daily life.

Luckily for her, exactly as charming too, which was the reason Avery hadn’t dropped her yet, as there were benefits to having on her arm someone who could make grouchy executives laugh with bawdy jokes. And since she was in a bit of a rush, that little gremlin even got to see how nice Avery’s house was, too, as long as she remained within eyesight. Avery liked cats, but never owned one because of how prone they were to break stuff while jumping on counters. That girl was exactly like that, except bigger and less graceful.

Avery heard a thud, and breathed in deeply as she glanced to the side, seeing that the girl managed to fall off the bed due to her own clumsiness. She had picked her up by the school’s gate, no way that kid was already drunk... Avery pushed her chair back stiffly, feeling her head run hot with rage.

The click-clack of her heels made the girl look up, still dumbly steadying herself on her hands and knees on the floor. Such a position suited some kind of destitute orphan like her, of course, but it didn’t fit Avery’s companion for the evening at all.

“What are you doing still dressed like that?” Avery’s voice had a sharp edge to it. “Go wipe that clown shit off your face. We’re going to run late.”

Those new generation fashion fads always had Avery grinding her teeth from the sheer distaste, and that overdone, cartoonish sort of makeup that girls her age seemed to replicate in droves, shortening their skirts and lowering their socks to match was just one more ridiculous low-class idiocy. Avery had yet to beat it into that thick skull of hers. For now, she put up with it, but only until they went out together.

However, the girl simply looked up at her with a slight smirk.

“Can’t i go like this? I like it like this.” She said, all innocently. Avery gave her a cold look. “You just don’t get it.”

“What don’t i get?” Avery half-spat at her, clear disdain in her face and mockery in her voice. “I can see that you still paint your face like a child’s, yes. How endearing. Now go wash it off.”

The girl scowled a bit, but soon her annoying smile returned. She sat back, looking so relaxed that it’d make anyone just want to strangle her.

“Do you know why you don’t get it?” The girl asked, humming as she held back laughter.

“Why?” Avery asked through gritted teeth, her fists clenching.

“Because you’re such an old fucking hag.” The girl gave her a shit-eating grin, crooked little fangs on full display.

Avery heard the noise of impact, dry like fire crackling, slightly deafening, before she realized she had moved. As the girl’s head snapped back from the force of her punch, she looked down at her half-numb hand, scoffing. She could hear a low mewling, a pained gasp as the girl held her own face, her head having hit the bedframe hard enough to put her thoughts back into place.

When she looked back up at Avery, tears going down her face and making make-up run all over it, a little bit of blood coming out of her mouth, Avery felt a little bad.

And then the guilt went right out of the window as she heard the girl’s low chuckle as she rubbed her face, watching the white color transfer from her stained cheeks to her fingertips.

“Guess you got what you wanted.” The girl commented, knowing her makeup was ruined. Her usually high-pitched voice was hoarse, likely from the scare.

Avery watched the girl move and slowly stand, before sitting down on the bed. Her heavy breath and messy appearance should disgust anyone with half a mind to care about their expensive sheets getting stained by cheap makeup, but Avery was right past the point of caring when those puppy eyes, scared like cornered prey and yet oh so excited sent a shiver down her spine.

“Feeling a bit weak on the legs.” The girl’s voice, breathy and ragged, only made Avery lean in closer.

“Is that so?” Avery asked, her breath catching as she couldn’t stop herself from leering like a hungry wolf.

The girl took little time to close the distance left between them, and Avery had to remember she was really good at picking up on those subtle signs. Soft lips met hers, a receptive little mouth opening up for Avery to take what was hers, the taste of strawberry bubblegum overwhelmingly sweet mixing in with the tangy iron of spilled blood at the tip of that girl’s tongue making all traces of what could have been a fight dissipate like mist.

As they pulled away, a thin string of spit connecting them before Avery licked her lips, the girl came back and kissed her jaw.

“You know i didn’t mean it.” Sweet words coming from an even sweeter voice could go a long way even if it’s owner was such a deceptive little bitch. “Can i apologize?”

And Avery would never say no to such a sweet offering. She sat on the bed besides the girl, kissing her for a little more no matter how sloppy it got, giving her a little hum of approval before watching the little vixen slide down, leaving a kiss on Avery’s exposed shoulder as she went back to her knees. On second thought, that was the perfect position for her on all accounts.

The girl gently slid Avery’s panties off from under her cocktail dress, lifting her legs out of it one at a time, a kiss on her knees and another at her feet as the underwear came off before her kisses went up, first to the inside of Avery’s thighs, then up right in between them, eliciting an embarrassing moan that made Avery cover her mouth with her hand. Maybe she was more worked up than she previously thought, but work stress made it hard to get properly horny until she could have a hot young thing between her legs like this.

With far more care than Avery bothered to have when their positions were reversed, the girl used two fingers to push apart her folds before her tongue slid between them. Their eyes met as the girl sought approval to continue, as if she was fucking stupid or something. Avery’s hand grabbed a fistful of the girl’s hair and then she pulled her face in closer, and at least that was all she needed to do to have her right back at work, licking up and down her pussy with newfound vigor before focusing on her clit, her rhythmic movements making Avery’s hand tighten on her hair as the girl’s head bobbed, looking up at Avery like some lovesick puppy. The grip on her hair tightened as Avery’s hips buckled forward, as she threw one leg around the girl’s shoulder to ride her face better.

It didn’t take that long for Avery to come from the girl’s gentle caresses with one last forceful thrust, her leg briefly locking the girl’s head in place while Avery threw her head back and moaned one last, drawn-out mewl. As she recovered her bearings, her body relaxed and looked she down between her legs, that vixen looked a little too proud of herself, despite her disgustingly messy face and disheveled clothes.

And then she rose to her feet slowly, coming up to kiss Avery in a much tamer kiss, soft hands on their way to undo the zipper of the cocktail dress before Avery roughly grabbed one of the wandering hands.

“What are you doing?” Avery asked, her voice still icy despite not even being angry anymore. “We’re running late. Go take a shower, you look disgusting.”

The girl stilled for a moment, and Avery might have dreamt the spark of rebellion that crossed her face before she smiled pleasantly and nodded.

“Right… I’ll… Be back soon.” The girl replied, her voice a little less hoarse as she got off Avery and slowly walked to the suite’s spacious bathroom.

With her gone, Avery quickly pulled her panties up and went to check herself in the mirror. With a soft “Fuck,” she took some wet wipes to rub off the entire lower half of her face, having gotten careless enough to let her flawless foundation get stained with runny eyeliner and foundation that was twenty times darker than hers.

As she took her time to fix her appearance, she heard the soft pitter-patter of the girl’s bare feet behind her. Avery turned around to see her dressed in the pretty pink dress she had picked out especially for her, which indeed did compliment her hair quite well. And how much prettier she looked bare-faced, acting all coquettish as she approached Avery.

“What should i do?” The girl pointed to the bruise blooming on her cheek from Avery’s punch. “I can’t go out like this…”

“Sit down.” Avery got up from her vanity’s chair, and the girl promptly obeyed. Good, it seemed like she was no longer up to having an attitude, at least for now. “I’ll cover it up, so stay still.”

Avery pulled out a bunch of bottles and boxes from a few shopping bags, and laid them on the vanity before starting to apply some products to the girl’s face.

As the girl flinched and let out a soft gasp when the concealer brush made pressure against her cheek, Avery held her chin to keep her in place.

“Is it that sore?” Avery asked, halfway between concerned and finding it really funny. It wouldn’t be good if it was something serious, but the girl’s reactions, with her breathy little noises that sounded more naughty than really painful, were a bit amusing.

“N-No.” The girl lied, and repositioned her face to look straight ahead, playing tough. Whenever Avery pressed too hard on the bruise with a brush or sponge, the girl would bite her lips. It was hard not to laugh.

After a few minutes, the bruise was perfectly covered-up. Proud of herself, Avery showed it to the girl, who beamed at her reflection.

“Woah, so much better!” She said, amazed. “I’m glad. Can’t have people thinking you beat me.”

Avery only gave her a slap over the head for that one, before telling her to quiet down as she did the rest of her makeup, in a more professional and dignified style than her usual.

But as Avery drew on a winged cat liner that really complimented the girl’s sharp eyes, she spoke up again.

“Hey, Avie.” The girl started with that annoying nickname, making Avery sigh.

“I thought i had just told you to keep quiet.” Avery replied, disinterested in whatever she was about to say.

“I was just wondering how you knew my actual shade? I usually wear a darker one, so…” The girl trailed off as she realized how intensely Avery was glaring at her.

She didn’t even mean to glare. It was just a kneejerk reaction as she was expecting more bullshit.

“You hands.” Avery replied, simply. “I just looked at your hands.”

“...Ah.” The girl looked at her own hand, blushing a little. Avery hoped she wasn't getting any weird ideas-

A bruise like something like a hand had constrained the girl's wrist caught Avery’s attention, and she looked up to see another one blooming on the shoulder that hit the car as Avery pushed the girl. Suddenly, she was a bit more nervous.

“...I’ll wear gloves.” The girl spoke up, covering her bruised wrist with her other hand, making Avery snap out of it.

“...You know, good idea. I can… Cover up this one too, then.” Avery gently touched the girl’s bruised shoulder. “I can’t let people think i beat you.”

The girl giggled at this, looking cute now that she looked more like what Avery expected of her companions. Satisfied, she bent to start the shoulder cover up. To her surprise, the girl turned around and gave her a small peck on the lips.

As Avery pulled away, that infatuated look was back on the girl’s face. It gave her a small shudder, wondering how long would that little girl be satisfied with Avery’s sort of “affection.” Each day, it seemed like she wanted more and more of a reaction. Maybe this gamble was turning riskier than what was calculated-

But it was indeed so lovely, the way the girl turned her head away, averting her gaze as if the cover up of a bruise was some intimate affair, the way she sighed softly on Avery’s hand every now and then. Maybe keeping her around a while longer was okay, right?

++Love

[delicatemusickingdom]

Book 2 Part 3 Chapter 3.2

Chapter 3.2

Godonan stood alone in the small room, restless and uneasy. How long had it been since he’d been let in here? Five minutes? Thirty? He wasn’t sure. 

He was impatient, but he couldn’t let it show on his face. He had to maintain his standing position, even if it was difficult to do so. It was hard on his plump body, but he had to endure. Besides, there wasn’t even a chair in this room.

Godonan was by no means a low-ranking noble, but he was being made to wait by the master of this place, and he was putting up with it. This was a rehearsal for what was to come. 

Without any warning, there was a knock on the door, and without waiting for any response, it opened. A tall, well-dressed man stood there. He was expressionless and inorganic-like. Godonan knew who he was — this man, who looked no different from the walls here, was the butler of this place. Naturally the butler’s status was lower than that of Godonan’s, but the authority vested in him by his master elevated him to a position Godonan couldn’t oppose. 

“She will see you now.”

The butler said curtly, without even a word of ‘Sorry to keep you waiting’. Swallowing back the feelings welling up from deep within his heart, Godonan nodded silently and left the room as directed. 

“This way.” 

As he followed behind the butler, Godonan struggled to maintain his dignity as a noble. But he could feel his nervousness growing with each step he took. 

Both the small room from before and this hallway were structures that had lasted for a very long time, and were splendid examples of how durability and elegance could coexist. Godonan’s mansion was no less luxurious, but this place possessed a dignity and grandeur that came from age, and to people like Godonan, that was a kind of tangible power. 

Eventually the butler came to a halt in front of a set of double doors, and knocked on them three times, before calling out to whoever was inside. 

“I have brought him.”

After the butler said that, the doors opened inward. Godonan walked into the hallway inside, and the doors closed behind him. 

The lavish interior design was in itself not unusual for a noble’s room, but it was not something that could be achieved by simply spending money, but something carefully selected and polished over time and through aesthetic sense. Each item that made up the room’s composition provoked envy and desire in the viewer, and yet the way they were arranged throughout the room achieved a splendid sense of balance and harmony. Godonan had no idea how many years it would take to achieve this level of perfection. And — as Godonan knew very well — this was far from what the best room in the mansion looked like. 

Standing by the walls were several servants. They lacked any distinguishing traits, and looked almost no different from the butler. Sitting at the back of the room awaiting their arrival was a woman. She wasn’t as young as to be called a little girl, but she wasn’t as old as Godonan either. Sprawling languidly on the most luxurious of sofas, she watched Godonan approach her — her gaze as if she was expecting a clown to perform some kind of interesting trick. Or maybe, she was making sure that the pet dog that had gone to fight had done a good job. 

But she was the first to speak. 

“Good day, Mister Godonan — or should I say, ‘Administrator’?” 

Even though he was still a short distance away from her, her voice rang loudly in the room, almost like a bell. Except this bell contained poison. 

She covered her mouth with a large feathered fan, and because of that most of her expression was hidden from view, except for her large, catlike eyes. Despite that, Godonan could clearly sense her condescension, and her arrogant attitude towards him. 

Without giving any indication of those thoughts, Godonan bowed his head respectfully. Behind him, he could sense the presence of the butler.  

“Good day to you, Lady Mirarem. I pray that you have been in good health.” 

“Seeing as we are both busy people, let us get straight to the point.”

The lady of the house called Mirarem said curtly, stopping Godonan from flattering her any further. 

“So? From what I have heard, your progress has been far from satisfactory.” 

She had said those words with no small amount of disinterest, but Godonan could feel sweat forming all over his body anyway. It was an eerie reenactment of the exchange he’d had with Jareth before, except now Godonan was the one being reproached.

“Y-Yes. Some of the residents are refusing to cooperate… but we are taking steps to rectify that. We should see some progress in the near future.” 

“A promise without results has no worth, Administrator.” 

Mirarem said bluntly. She raised her head theatrically to stare at the ceiling and sighed. 

“At this rate, the road to obtaining a seat on the Council will be even further away.”  

As Godonan wiped away his sweat, he felt the blood drain from his face. He widened his eyes, and he pleaded with a desperate look on his face. 

“Please wait! I will definitely produce results! So please—”

“Then how about you go out there and do your job instead of dawdling here? As I said earlier, my time is precious. I expect you to bring me a more promising story the next time you visit.” 

Godonan opened his mouth to plead further, but he stopped himself, seeing the clear sign of rejection in Mirarem’s eyes. 

He sensed the butler behind him move. Turning around, he saw that the door to the room had been opened. His audience with Mirarem was over. 

Summoning all the mental fortitude he could muster, Godonan did his best to remain respectful and polite as he took his leave. 

****

“This is outside my jurisdiction.” 

The official sitting on the other side of the counter said without looking up. 

“But the Civil Affairs Bureau should be the ones in charge of the census. That was what was written in the proclamation.”

“You’re right, but the census has already been completed. What happens after that is not our problem. Alright, next!” 

Flynn was about to protest, but someone behind him cleared their throat, interrupting him. When he turned around, he saw a line of annoyed faces looking back at him. They were all petitioners waiting their turn.

Flynn glanced at the official again, but the official showed no signs of looking up. He bit his lip and left the window. The next person in line immediately approached the counter and started complaining about their plight. But just like with Flynn, the official didn’t even look up at the person. 

Swallowing back a sigh, Flynn stepped outside. Standing on the streets, he turned back to look at the government office. The building looked solemn and imposing, like the physical embodiment of rejection.

He had already visited three government offices. He had gone to appeal for them to put a stop to Godonan’s tyranny and the thugs’ rampages. But each time, he was given the cold shoulder. They kept repeating things like ‘We’re not in charge’, or ‘It’s outside our jurisdiction’. In particular, the moment they hear Godonan’s name, they would react as if they were covering their ears. 

He had expected it. He had not expected the government office to actively involve themselves in such troublesome matters, much less when such a powerful noble was involved. Even so, he had visited the citizens’ quarter in hope that there would be at least one official who would take him seriously. 

He had been prepared for this to happen to some extent, but in reality he kept getting rebuffed, and his frustrations only increased.

But Flynn had no intention of giving up. He couldn’t. 

Things were only getting worse. As Jiri and Yuri recognised, chasing away the thugs over and over again wouldn’t solve the root problem. On the contrary, it may provoke Godonan into trying something even more extreme. He shuddered to think of what would happen to the lower quarter if that happened. 

No — before that, it was likely that Jiri and Yuri would do something to protect the lower quarter. Flynn wanted to protect the lower quarter too. But he still didn’t want to have to resort to illegal means for it. That feeling wouldn’t change, even if the other side resorted to illegal means first. 

He couldn’t picture himself reporting Jiri and Yuri if they ever committed a crime. He hated the idea of it. He never wanted to do that. But at the same time, he was almost certain that, if necessary, they would do what they thought was right. 

That was why he had acted. Even if the chances were extremely low, even if there was no hope in sight. Until he could find a better way, in order to prevent them from doing it. In order not to face his dilemma. 

Flynn gave a small shake of his head. There were still government offices he hadn’t visited. If the officials couldn’t help him, then there were still the Knights. Pulling himself together, Flynn started walking. 

****

The sound of glass shattering rang out through the room. Following that was the sound of curses. 

“Argh, dammit!” 

Godonan spat out, unable to suppress his fury. He had returned to his mansion and was now drinking wine to calm himself down, but his rage had only continued to build. 

The attendants silently took their master’s anger in stride. They waited patiently, like waiting for a raging storm to pass. This was always how they had gotten by, the method learnt through years of experience in his service. 

Of course he refrained from bad-mouthing Mirarem directly, but even so, he had hit his limit — he couldn’t pretend to stay calm any longer. He was angry at Mirarem’s reaction, and angry at himself for not being able to resist the temptation to explain himself despite having foreseen the outcome. He was also angry at the corner he had been driven into as a result. Like most nobles, he wasn’t used to being rushed or looked down upon.  

As Mirarem had mentioned, what he wanted was a seat at the Imperial Council, which served as the political centre of the Empire. To do that, he needed to rise higher in the ranks of nobles. And to accomplish that, he needed the support of someone with a status even higher than his, and to obtain that he needed a gift. 

That was why Godonan had set his sights on the lower quarter. Through the census, he had learnt of the archaeological value of the entire lower quarter, and through further investigation, had also learnt of the potential artistic value it held. Hundreds of years ago, the whole area had once been a noble’s beautiful garden. His plan was to recreate that, and offer it up in exchange for sponsorship. 

From the very beginning, he had paid no attention to the riffraff of lower quarter residents. He assumed that if he gave them a little bit of money, they would obey his orders immediately, but he had underestimated them. In reality, the residents had, for unknown reasons, banded together, refusing the money and continuing to live in the lower quarter even now. He had then sent people to threaten them, but they had all been chased away in a humiliating manner. 

To top it all off, he had been driven into a corner. Since he had approached Mirarem with such a confident declaration, failing now would incur her displeasure. Forget about obtaining her sponsorship, his rank could end up getting lowered. 

“In the first place, what the hell is going on down there? Why are those trash from the slums resisting? They shouldn’t be able to understand the value of that place. What does that place mean to them?” 

Godonan yelled, as if trying to remind himself that he was on the side that ruled. His attendants maintained their solemn expressions and did not answer him. They knew that he wasn’t really directing the questions at them. 

Standing alone in a corner, Jareth was the only one who was feeling terrified and unsure of what to do. He trembled, afraid that Godonan would direct his anger at him — because he was the one who had said that everyone in the lower quarter would comply as long as they were given money. 

But without even noticing Jareth, after venting his anger for a while, Godonan finally seemed satisfied enough and stopped yelling. He took deep breaths to steady his ragged breathing, and then spoke sullenly. 

“Have the useless ones recovered yet?” 

“Yes, Milord.” 

This time, Godonan nodded in satisfaction at his attendant’s reply. 

“Let’s put it this way: I’ve been lenient with these guys until now. If they can’t feel the fire blazing in front of them, I’ll make them feel it. This time, I’ll close my eyes to the amount of casualties caused. The most important thing is speed. Do you not agree?” 

His attendants knelt and prostrated themselves. They were just like automated dolls, without a will of their own. 

Not understanding what Godonan was talking about, Jareth nodded as well. Even though no one was watching him. 

Prev | Index | Next

[poisonousquinzel]

I'm sorry, why are fuck are folks celebrating a w/w kiss with Gaga's "Harley/Harleen" as if the chick wasn't literally telling her she's going to hell and Gaga's character kissed her idk to piss her off???

Whoo, gay "Harley" but it's an unconsenting kiss, yeah we really fucking won 💀

Also, just this entire scene they've been filming just screams Punchline tbf and it only continues to solidify my opinion that this Should have been Alexis' live action debut. Harley's moved fucking past him, it's long since time other media forms catch the fuck up. And it's not as if there's just No other character they could have used for this, as Punchline has existed for a couple of years now.

Or am I supposed to just pretend that all these panels don't exist??

Punchline - The Trial of Alexis Kaye

Those aren't just random people who're out to support Gaga in clown masks, they're extras and they're dressed like that for a reason. A Lot of the like 700 reported extras they have for that scene are there because they support her or Joker.

You can see part of a sign in the last image of Gaga that says "Marry me xoxo", not exactly a hateful crowd for the most part.

it's only "Harley" because of the colors and blonde hair. Nothing would change if they swapped the role and called the character Alexis.

And her character would fit this fucking perfectly, the world, the time her introduction would happen after the city went up in chaos, like it would make sense. She's Got Fans. She's got followers, because she's a newer age villain who knows how to use the internet to her advantage.

But no, instead they're dragging Harley back 3 fucking decades of development that live actions fans Barely have seen, gutting the core of her character and (apparently) shoving her in Arkham as a patient rather than a psychiatrist all so they can profit off her popularity and her name.

It's gross, and I hate this.

"Joker has a new love?"

I am never going to know peace with this fucking movie in production and neither is Harley.

[rugbuggk]

Something I think a lot is about Integra’s fashion sense.

Think about it !! Since twelve she’s running this damn organization with no breaks at all, maturing earlier than others kids her age, while some girls thought about what dress would they wear for the weekend, Integra filled mountains of papers until she falls asleep, and such every day. No time to chose dresses, only having to get dressed as fast as she could, to the point she preferred dressing with suits and trousers. Not that they don’t suit her, Lord have mercy every time Integra Hellsing leaves her big coat over her chair while she smokes, she looks like a goddess!

However I do think that, Teggy would somehow after Alucard’s “death” (probably in her late 20s and early 30s) try on new things, listen to the Draculina that dragged for an hour or more about how beautiful she would look if she tried on something more than those suits, she doesn’t have to wear those aaaalll the time, of course Seras sees much more potential in a woman like Integra.

But she doesn’t force her to wear anything, after all if she changes clothes that’s only her choice! Little does she know about what that blonde woman did when locked in her room; carefully contemplating her body in front of the mirror, looking for answers in something else than suits.

She didn’t have that awkward fase where she would mess up her clothes and think of how good it looked on her when it was actually something not even a clown would wear. Integra grew up looking imposing and towering as high as a mountain, behind those suits, rocking them for decades and ignoring the new fashion trends or the latest winter collection.

She really never cared about clothes, but this time, while standing in front of the mirror, she asked herself what harm would a dress do.

It doesn’t even have to be a dress too! She has seen those models, beating the thought of pants being for men only while also adding their little touch of femininity.

It doesn’t have to be feminine either! Those women also wore clothes only the most of classy, fashionable men would wear.

And, if they looked good on them, how would it look on her?

That morning Seras choked while drinking her blood pack, the round table had been waiting for about ten minutes, Integra isn’t a late person, only one thing would make the exception.

“My deepest apologies, gentlemen. I had a last-minute problem. It won’t happen again. “

Seras was speechless, so was the rest of the men in there. Integra presented herself with her cigar over her lips, her only eye blue and her blonde hair long and free as usual, so, what was the elephant in the room this time?

A knee-high emerald green, tube skirt, off shoulder ruched long sleeved shirt, a gold necklace to go with her kitten heels. It was hard to get the eyes out of her, until Sir Integra cleared her throat and dared more than one man there to say anything about her.

Not only that meeting had a start, but also a did her liking towards fashion.

—

Outfit I *tried* to describe for tegra! A little headcanon of mine that got extended lol, what do you think?

[threerattsinatrenchcoat]

10 First lines challenge

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able to and see if there are any patterns!

I was tagged by @bloobluebloo! I'm going to tag @captainsigge, @redroomroaving and @lolliputian

Goblin Roundhouse Chell! (And Kavil) : "Hi, Chell," Kavil said, not even looking up from her picture novel.

When Life Gives you Lemons, Throw a Party! (NSFW) : The bouncer held up a magical glass, peering through it to examine Astarion.

A Honeypot; A Thirst Trap, chapter All for One; One for Oll (NSFW) : In the back of a canvas covered caravan, three men huddled together, doing their makeup. The first line for the entire fic: Her dress was torn, her bustier laced far too tight, and the heels of her shoes were too tall, and that was really the first clue, wasn't it?

Sweeter than Vengeance : "Is that—"

Arcanus Fisticuffus, chapter Philomeen : As people had done since they first started peopling, several traditions were established by the end of round two. First line for the entire fic: Sal awoke to Rugan sitting by his bed, wrapping his hand in bandages.

Gnomish Cumming (NSFW) : "Mystra, the goddess of magic, seeking single male, age 20-2000, bottom."

Three of a Four Course Meal : The denizens of Baldur's Gate were used to late nights, but at this point even the moons were heading to their beds over the horizon.

The Princess and the Frog : A bruise bloomed on Lae'zel's cheek, dark as the circles under Shadowheart's eyes.

Embers that Never Go Out : Around the time Elminster poured her a glass of wine and offered her a lip's worth of tabbaco-cud, Arabella got the feeling he hadn't really been around kids in a while.

The Circus Came to Town (NSFW) : Wyll slammed the clown against the tent wall so hard he nearly brought it down.

Analysis:

If it's smut, I definitely like to get RIGHT TO IT. No set up, Wyll is already slamming people against walls, Mystra is propositioning strangers, Rugan's noting a heaving bosom. I forgot how funny the opening to Gnomish Cumming was. "Bottom." I love the opening for Embers the Never Go Out, it perfect captures Arabella and Elminster's relationship. I also love the opening for Honeypot, it just captures the energy of the fic really well. Sweeter than Vengeance works better in context, same with The Princess and the Frog.

I think overall most of these aren't too compelling? 1, 2, 4 and 7 are meh. 7 is actually fairly clumsy, I'm going to rework that, haha. I do like 9 though. I'm going to pin 9 on the wall.

[cosplayinamerica]

Writer : Amy Densham

Whether your kids live in rural Iowa or downtown NYC. If they have cosplaying parents or only they just learned about Halloween. Astrid and Leah bring that excited, welcoming, Con energy to their student’s computer screens all over the world.

The platform is Outschool. It’s been around since 2015 and started as a go-to for homeschoolers. During the  COVID-19 pandemic, Outschool grew beyond homeschooling. It became a place for learning and socializing whether you homeschool or not. Now serving over 1 million learners in 195 countries, Outschool has thousands of classes for ages 3 - 18. Learn about dinosaurs from a paleontologist. C# coding from a game developer. Or cosplay from an expert seamstress and a professional actress.

Astrid Turner, bubbly and all smiles, remembers standing in line at a Con: “The cosplay community is one of the most supportive and wonderful communities out there. When I cosplay, it’s not attention on me. It’s attention for something we share. We already know we like the same things. The craftsmanship, the idea that you’re there together, dressed up, having an experience together.”

Astrid teaches Cosplay Costume Design and Creation Workshops and anything else costume-related (just send her a request). She can pleat a skirt, put a bodice in, and bring kids out of their shells with ease. Part of her class includes real-world skills like comparison shopping; if you’re asking mom to buy it, you need to have a plan.

What does Astrid hope her students walk away with from taking her class ? Ask about her experience teaching online classese.

With a classroom maximum of 5, Astrid gives personalized attention to all of her students. Some enroll with a  clear costume vision. Others just love Anime. Either way, Astrid helps them follow their own creativity and make it a reality.

Do they need a sketch? No problem. Does the fabric need to be washable? She knows just the thing. And costumes are just the beginning. Her eyes light up when she talks about intuitive, introverted students growing and connecting as the weeks go by. Someone who barely spoke in their first class is now the first one to share their progress and welcome a new student. They find their people and their voice.

Leah Johnson, artful and confident, talks about her experience at Cons: “It feels like everyone is a family. They want to welcome you in. It’s an excitement of sharing. Always. Of what they’ve made, what they’ve done, other cons that they’ve gone to, and people they’ve met. Everyone there wants to inspire each other.”

Leah teaches Special FX, Halloween, and Cosplay Makeup or one-on-one classes by request. Some of her students want to become professional makeup artists. Some want to scare their grandmas with fake wounds. In both situations, Leah is raring to go! And so is her washable Mehron Practice Makeup Head - currently sporting terrifying clown makeup from her last class.

Every class is unique. Some learners pop in with full, top-of-the-line makeup kits and some join with leftovers from the makeup wearer in their house. Part of the fun for Leah and her students is figuring out how to create looks with what you’ve got. It’s a great life lesson too. Sometimes you’ll need a specific product but sometimes you just need to be resourceful. Leah playfully refers to it as preparing for the zombie apocalypse when you won’t have all the tools. Her personality beams through the screen as she uses her makeup head to show makeup techniques, up close, and with student-requested variations. For Leah, the online part wasn’t her favorite. There’s an unquantifiable distance when you’re interacting online. You aren’t in the same space. It’s not the same as in person. But she makes that work too. And it’s a small inconvenience compared to the big benefit: bringing creative, accepting spaces to students wherever they are in the world.

Every class is unique. Some learners pop in with full, top-of-the-line makeup kits and some join with leftovers from the makeup wearer in their house. Part of the fun for Leah and her students is figuring out how to create looks with what you’ve got. It’s a great life lesson too. Sometimes you’ll need a specific product but sometimes you just need to be resourceful. Leah playfully refers to it as preparing for the zombie apocalypse when you won’t have all the tools. Her personality beams through the screen as she uses her makeup head to show makeup techniques, up close, and with student-requested variations. For Leah, the online part wasn’t her favorite. There’s an unquantifiable distance when you’re interacting online. You aren’t in the same space. It’s not the same as in person. But she makes that work too. And it’s a small inconvenience compared to the big benefit: bringing creative, accepting spaces to students wherever they are in the world.

HOW IT STARTED

Astrid and Leah both grew up loving costumes but they didn’t find out about cosplay until much later. In each of their separate hometowns, they were that kid in full costume at the grocery store. Or decked out like crazy on Halloween. Sound familiar?

Astrid remembers her first Ren Faire: “My first costume was a disaster but I was so proud of it! Ever since then, I knew I wanted to make costumes.” Growing up in a rural area outside LA, she always wanted to go to the San Diego Comic-Con but she didn’t have anyone to go with and didn’t want to go by herself. None of her friends were cosplayers - a term she didn’t even know existed.

She taught herself to sew, learning by creating more and more complex projects. Elaborate Elizabethan gowns with striking details for the next faire.

As she grew older, Atrid took a detour, exploring other career paths but she came back to sewing when her kids were small. Making clothes and costumes for them brought back that magic. And the internet showed her there was a whole community out there. No longer the only cosplayer in town, she dove in head first.

Now Astrid and her 3 kids (ages 13, 10, and 7) attend Cons every chance they get. In full costume, of course. She enters competitions in the handmade category and, though she’s modest, has taken home more than one win. In middle school, Astrid was big into theatre, Shakespeare, and creating Renaissance costumes.

An actor, director, voiceover artist, and singer, Leah cosplays characters from Arwen to Cruella De Vil to Mary Poppins. She teaches makeup and cosplay on Outschool but does both professionally for film, theatre, and events. To name a few, she designed costumes for the TV show Kookville and a stage production of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. She even did makeup and created costumes for the movie Demon Squad, which you can find in Season 13 of Mystery Science Theatre 3000. She believes that cosplay isn’t just about expressing yourself, it’s about developing yourself and creating a full aesthetic. Beyond that, she wants her students to know, they can make a career out of their creative passions. And she’ll help them do it.

Leah talks about her first Ren Faire experience: “It felt awesome because I was trying to be intentional about creating a costume for me. Not for a play. Not for someone else based on their vision. It was my vision. It was what I wanted to do.”

You feel different in your cosplay. The persona, the confidence. It can be hard to describe but Astrid and Leah teach toward that feeling in every class.

Specializing in Elizabethan and Italian Renaissance costumes, Astrid also cosplays Collei from Gensin Impact and loves growing her skills in the anime genre. She even runs a social club on Outschool where Genshin fans can hang out virtually and game together.

Astrid beams: “A lot of kids and adults choose a character and they try to match that persona. It’s a little bit of safety. I’ve had people scream ‘OH MY GOD ITS COLLEI’ and run over to me. Under normal circumstances that wouldn’t happen. But at Cons, it’s so exciting. It’s amazing to connect with other people through that persona.”

*** Leah, with her cosplay weapon collection behind her: “You feel more confident in your character’s costume. It’s a projection of your best self. A lot of work, your imagination, and your brain is now projected on the outside. People can see that part of you that they can’t see in any other situation.”

Leading by example, Leah shows her students that they can make their creative passions into careers. She beams when she talks about a student getting confident enough to make an Actor Instagram account. Or doing professional-level wedding makeup for their entire family.

Teaching online from Arkansas since 2018, Astrid volunteered for the first-ever Outschool Cosplay Convention in 2021. Now called GameCon, the 2-day event featured presentations at different times of day for different timezones. Sessions about costume design, makeup, theatre performance, and more. And, most exciting of all, the costume showcase. Every kid got a chance in the spotlight to show off their creations. Astrid, laughs now: “I burst into tears when I logged off. It was such a rush of emotions. I found my people! I wish I had this when I was a kid.”

***

[ethicalvinyls]

𝐈 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮

summary: indy is a new student that has moved from New York to Virginia. she hates it. until she bumps into a girl she cannot stop drooling over. 

a/n: imagine Bella Ramse as bee. that is my girlfriend. they’re so fine. 

I want to disappear into a hole and never ever come out. I want to wither away in my favorite outfit, and when people discover my body, they’ll see how miserable I was after I moved. The favorite outfit might sound confusing within that sentence, but it just means that I was a beautiful girl with beautiful clothes uprooted into a shitty town with terrible people with terrible senses of style. 

I keep telling myself that I shouldn’t be a judgy bitch if I want to make friends, but as of now I don’t want any. I’m fine with only having my company. I have been this way since my friends back home decided to cut off our friendship two months before I left. They said it was because I was leaving soon, but we’re now in the age of phones and FaceTiming doesn’t seem hard. Plus, it isn’t like I moved to Japan where it’d be night time at 10 A.M. in New York. I moved to Virginia. The ride is only six hours. 

Fuck them. I don’t need them anyway. 

I turn into a random hallway on my left and continue to wonder how people have no sense of style. We are only six hours away from New York, where people roam around in a bra and Daisy Dukes. Where people unleash their creativity within their wardrobe. People don’t care wether they look like a clown or look entirely too proper for Times Square; they just dress how they want to dress. I might hate some people’s fashion choices, but it’s fashion to them—something beautiful. Here, it just looks like everyone is wearing the outfit of their nightmares. 

I don’t want to blend in, but my mom told me this morning to not make myself known if I don’t want to make friends. So now I’m wearing a pink shirt with jeans and tennis shoes. A boring outfit that’ll somehow make me stand out; because pink? It’s Wednesday and no one so far has a hint of pink, not even a pair of socks. 

I look into every classroom in the hallway. There are sleeping kids and teachers excited to teach a subject that won’t matter by the time the student is 19. I know, teachers are God’s angels put on earth to fight the demons that are children, but why do many of the best teachers teach the worst subjects?

I asked my mom to place me on online school, simply because it’s my last year and having to meet new people and make a good first impression is a task I don’t want to do. But she said online learning isn’t really learning. It’s some kind of information you take in only to drop it off once you leave your chair. Understandable, but it’s better than going to school. 

A door opens at the end of the hallway and I spot a girl wearing a band T-shirt and a pair of long jean shorts. She has bruises leading down to her mismatched pink and blue socks and beat up white tennis shoes. I look at her soft face and her brown hair that is tied into a low bun. 

I stand frozen. Did the universe listen to me asking for at least someone to wear pink socks? I sure didn’t ask for someone to walk out with an emo t-shirt but I did hope for someone different. And this girl is… definitely different. And too damn attractive for my eyes. 

I back up and prepare my feet to swivel me around and fast-walk around the corner. But right as I tread backwards, a fucking pencil gets in my way. I trip but clutch onto the locker at my side before I fall directly onto the ground. 

“Fuck me,” I comment under my breath. 

A light chuckle comes out of the girl as she walks towards me. She grabs my hand as I am about to straighten up. “You alright?” 

“Yep,” I say. 

“You’re new,” she states.

“Yup,” I answer, although what she says isn’t in the form of a question. “How’d you know?” 

“Even in a basic outfit, me and everyone else here can tell you’re new.” 

“Great,” I mutter, enunciating the T. 

“You were walking away from me though,” she states. “How come?” 

“Scared of you,” I reply. 

“Scared?” she scoffs. 

“You look like those tough skater girls.” 

She looks me up and down and smiles. “I do skate. But I’m not scary.” 

I observe her face: her soft cheeks, slightly crooked bunny teeth, and her bumpy nose I cannot stop staring at. I look away before I have the chance to fall in love with her. I’ve barely started at this school, I cannot fall in love with anyone yet, no matter how much I want to. 

I nod at her words and turn around, hoping she follows behind me. I was down the hallways and hear her worn sneakers along the dirty floor. I find her next to me with her hands in her pockets and her head looking around the hallway—as if she hasn’t walked this hallway thousands of times before. 

“So… where do you come from?” 

“New York?” 

“The city?” 

“Kind of,” I answer. “Born in Long Island. Home is there and all, but I would stay with my mom in Brooklyn. I would stay with my dad during some weekends.” 

“Ah. That’s why your accent isn’t extremely thick.” 

I hum. “And you? Where are you from, skater girl?” 

She laughs. “Here. Born and raised.” 

I turn to look at her. “That’s sad, no?” 

“Yeah, it is. I have some family down in New York, but my mom doesn’t like it when I go.” 

“Why?” I ask, as if her mom has stabbed me in the back. 

“Too many gay people.” 

I scoff. “God, so she might be mad when she finds out one has invaded Virginia?” 

“You’re…” 

“Gay?” I ask. “Yes. Guys don’t do it for me.” 

“Hm.” 

We continue walking down the hallway to the right, and keep walking down until we reach the gymnasium. The sound of basketballs and kids yelling invades my ears and I want to pinch myself back to reality, where I’m in New York trying all kinds of pizza from all kinds of pizza places with Sydnee and James. The same old people I would hang out with every single day. 

“You don’t like it here, do you?” 

“What gave it away?” 

“You’re a sarcastic one, huh?” 

I turn to her and smile. “I don’t want to keep calling you skater girl. What’s your name?” 

“Bee.” 

“Like the buzz buzz bee’s?” 

She nods. “The one’s that make honey,” she chuckles. “And you? What’s your name?” 

“Indy.” 

“Like indie music?” 

“No. Like Lucinda.” Her mouth twitches open and I can tell she wants to laugh. I smirk and look into the big gym filled with musty freshmen. “You can laugh, Honey-Bee.” 

“Honey-Bee?” She whispers, but continues into her laugh. She chuckles, but only a bit. I suppose it’s to not sound like a bitch, but she wouldn’t be one because I’ve allowed her to laugh at my shitty Hispanic name. 

“I hate my name, so after elementary school I made everyone call me Indy. Cut off 90% of my name and switch out the a for a y. Made me look cool, sound it, too.” 

“So you’ve always wanted to be different?” 

My lips tick up into a deep smile. “Yes, I guess so.” 

A moment passes by where we only allow ourselves to look into the gym. The bouncing balls begin to die down and the coach blows her whistle. Even when the kids begin putting all of the cones and mats and balls away, we stare into the buzzing room. 

We enjoy the silence. Up until a loud pair of heels rushes down the hallway and begins to call out Honey-Bee’s name. 

“Bee! Bee, why have you been gone for—“ 

We both turn around and look at her with a smile. It’s a lady in her mid-forties: her orange hair is slicked back into a ponytail and she has on black jeans with a white dress shirt and an itchy-looking cardigan. Why someone would wear heels with such a boring outfit is beyond me, but she looked confident, so I kept back my remarks and facial responses. 

“Hi, miss…” I said. “I’m Indy, short of Lucinda. I’m new and Bee happened to find me lost.” 

She places her hands on her hips and looks at us both. She raises a brow and says, “Are you sure that was all? No funny business?” 

I smile and shake my head. I wish, I want to say, but I stick with, “No ma’am. No funny business.” 

“Good. Then let me take you to the office. Bee can show you around later.” She ticks her head to the side, motioning me to move on forward, and I do, but not without slightly shoving Honey-Bee. 

“I’ll find you. Or ask if you can show me around. Thanks.” 

“Alright Indy. I’ll make sure to find you.” 

[nightguide]

AESTHETIC RETENTION: SHIT PEOPLE GO THERE

MILITARY TACTICS

CONVERSATION OF MASS (HOW FUCKING RETARDED YOU ARE): YOU DID NOT LIKE THE DRESS. FIRST. A' OOZU BILAAH

CONVERSATION OF LENGTH (DID YOU JUST MAKE A HICK DO IT FOR YOU?): I HATE YOU

CONVERSATION OF NUMBER (HOW MUCH NAZAR EARNED FOR THAT ONE SINGLE BACKSIDED THOUGHT YOUR MOM HAD ABOUT YOU FORGETTING IT): THAT DAY, YOUR DAD THOUGHT YOU WERE A LIL TOO 'SEXY' FOR HIS OWN GOOD

WHY DID YOU MOM MAKE YOU GO?

CULT (FUCK YOU BACK): THIS IS YOUR NAME TO BE THERE, DID YOU EAT ENOUGH PUSSY FOR THAT ONE 'TIGHT SHIP' TO LAST AGES? (IN BRITISH)

SECT (DICKHEAD): I DID NOT GO TO THE TOILET ALL THE WAY BUT I MIGHT HAVE PISSED ON THE DRESS TO MAKE YOU PAY FOR IT

CHURCH (YOUR AUNTY LIKES YOUR CL*T): YOU WANT TO FUCK 'HER' DONT YOU?

MASJID PHYSICS

METAPHYSICS (YOUR BESTIE HATES U TO APPEAL HER 'QUR'AN' TO HER LIKE UR BESTIE IS NOT HERE, LIKE SOME WINTOUR NIGGA U THINK U ARE): SABRINA DOES NOT FCKIN CARE ABOUT WINTOUR, LIKE SHE WOULD RUN HER OVER IN A CHANCE THAT SHE WOULD FIND THAT 'NIGGA' LIKE SHE BEEN WANTING THE N WORD PASS SINCE GIRL MEETS WORLD OR WHATEVER DISNEY ER TV SHOW SHE BEEN ON AT 8YO AND PUBLICLY PORNOGRAPHISED LIKE HER ENTIRE RANT THERE WAS LIKE SHE WAS NOT EVEN GONNA MENTION THE ROYAL 'W' WORD TO OUTFUCK MAMMA NIGGA AT THE RIGHT (HER 'BAJI') IS A HOE AND THATS IT

EPISTEMOLOGY (THAT GUY AT THE BACK SHE MAKES FUN OF BUT EVENTUALLY GETS CALLED OUT FOR IT): SHE DOES NOT LIKE HOW SHE CREATES THAT 'FEELING' BUT ALWAYS THE FIRST NIGGA TO SNORT OUT LAUGHING THAT GETS HER THE SLAP BISECTIONALLY (MEANING ITS NOT HER BUT SHE HOLDS UP THE AWARDS SHOW FOR 'THAT WILL SMITH TIMING' SHE LEAVES EVEN WILL SMITH TO THINK ABOUT THAT GIRL AT THE BACK TAKING THE 'MICHAEL' OUT OF HIM)

ETHICS (HER FUCKING HISTORY AT MASJID ACCORDING TO THAT ONE TRUSTED SPANISH FRIEND (BASICALLY THAT FRIEND U ALWAYS SEE WHO GREW WITH YOU EMOTIONALLY AT WEDDINGS): SABRINA DOES NOT LIE. THATS THE FCKIN WORD THAT SHE SAYS AN SHE LIKES GET THE PEN THROWN AT HER LIKE THAT TYPA BITCH, SHE THE ONE WHO CALLS OUT AUNTY (WINTOUR) FOR THE SAME FCKIN LINE SHE ALWAYS USES THAT ACTUALLY MADE THE ENTIRE CLASS ROAR IN LAUGHTER, LIKE MASTER-CLOWn ENERGY TIL SHE GETS THE HARD R BY EXISTING. THATS JUST IT

NATURE OF HUMANS (EVERYDAY OF HER LIFE IS 'HER' AN SHE CALLS THAT 'DAJJAL'): AUNTY IS IN LOVE WITH HER FCKIN CLIT

HUMAN PROBLEMS (I HATED THAT WHORE FOR NOTHING (AND ITS LIKE THE WORLD ENDED FOR THAT GUJURATI (ASSHO) FOR RUINING HER LIFE (NO FAMILY BONDING OUT OF FAMILIAR LUCK CUZ THAT HO RUINED HER LIFE AN IT'S THEIR FAULT FOR NOT 'REASONING WITH THE EARLIER OPTIONS BETTER'): SHE HATED WINTOURS GUTS. SHE IS THAT GUJURAT. PERHAPS HER MOM WOULD HAVE BEEN JAMIE-LEE CURTIS AN HER LIFE WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER RUN OVER BY THAT LAND ASS BITCH OF A WHEL SHE THINKS SHE IS, GTFO

ANSWER TO HUMAN PROBLEMS (DIS BITCH??? *THE FCK FACE ON THAT PERMANENTLY*): SABRINA REALLY HATED LIFE MORE THAN ANYONE THAT SHE GOT HERSELF KICKED OUT OF DISNEY BY MAKING WINTOUR LIVE 'THAT DAJJAL'S LIFE' ALONE. STICK THAT BITCH NEXT TO HER AN WATCH HER FAKE ASS MELT LIKE BARBIE IN A MICROWAVE

HISTORY ('IF I SEE HER' IMAGINATION 20 YEARS LATER ENERGY): *SHUT THE FUCK UP* LIKE BONES EVERYWHERE (IN. GLEE.)

DEATH (SUBHAN ALLAH, IM AT PEACE): SHE IS RICH AN SHE IS DED

VIEW OF RELIGION (HER PARENTS NOW THAT THEY KNOW WHO SHE KNOWS BUT HATES BEING THERE 'FOR HER' AND ARE REGRETTING HER SOONER): HER PARENTS ARE INTO HER BY NOW