#but when i realized the color of the cake looked exactly like flesh the idea of steve cake was born

[nattousan]

tf y'all know about Steve cake

[danddymaro]

Fully Exposed| Michael Myers x Reader

Michael being somewhat soft and exposed, doing some stuff for the first time, so Fluff?

Him realizing that maybe, just maybe he loves her.

I know it’s not even October, but story wise, lets pretend it’s Oct 19.

Word Count: 1207

A/N: I don't typically do slashers, but it’s not for a lack of desire, but, rather, a lack of inspiration. But I do have some ideas in the box which I'd like to share.

If you are not into this, there other fandoms I dip into, please just be nice on this and ignore it if it’s not you.

Fully Exposed

Past the thick latex, just barely waffling through the interior of the quiet home was a warm scent, one that smelled enticing and inviting, beckoning him closer,  begging him to stay. 

The pitter-patter of the calmed showers from outside became a part of the background, and for the most part, forgotten as he heard a familiar voice speak, 

"Where are they?

Where are they?" She repeatedly muttered with what sounded like frustration, and during then he also heard the sound of frantic shuffling to accompany the huffed-out utters. 

The drawers of the kitchen were repeatedly opened and closed, and as he slowly made his way to the arch of the kitchen he saw the (h/c) haired woman storm through the space, what little he could catch of her face looking glum and grouchy before her brows rose up heavily. 

- And it was then that a different expression overcame her. 

Slowly, he watched as her shoulders sank, and she let out a soft, disappointed sigh that was touched by not only sadness but exasperation.

He was quiet as he approached her, and although he hadn't been intent to spook her, it was exactly what he'd done when his hands both took hold of her drooping shoulders.

A little gasp left her while simultaneously, her entire body shook into a startled jump. 

As a response, his large hands gave her a soft squeeze, and it was then that she inclined her head back, staring up at the man that stood directly behind her, watching her with a narrowed gaze.

"Oh, Hi..." she breathed softly, the downhearted expression melting down as she caught sight of the visitor. However, he could see the remaining glaze that had melted over her (e/c) colored eyes, and at that, his right hand slid up to her neck, his fingers softly grazing her flesh before they reached her jaw, 

'Why?' 

It was a silent question that was silently communicated through the thickening air that soon surrounded him as he wondered why the woman seemed so downhearted.

'Why?' he then asked himself not a second after, all for a different reason, uncertain of just what had overcome him and made him feel so troubled.

She uttered his name softly, the sound scarcely spoken as a pesky, little tear fell down her cheek, stopping her from going any further, and at that, the feral mode he was so close to tipping off to was suspended as his stomach dropped.

Something in his chest hurt, and he couldn't help but grit his teeth at the surfacing feeling.

"You're home a lot sooner," she said with the same touch of sadness, though she chuckled softly, wiping her own tear away before her face fell. She bowed her head in embarrassment and during then, the hand that had been on the lower portion of her face slid up to her cheek, and he made no move to withdraw, instead, moving closer. 

 His body melted over hers and he cocooned her in a way that filled her with happy warmth, something that was bliss during the cold season.

"- I wanted this to be special," She breathed. "I wanted this to be perfect," she added with the same airy tone that held a linger of sadness.

And as he tried to think of just what she was talking about, he took notice of what was before her.

"I couldn't find the candles," She said while shaking her head, the young woman staring down at the undecorated cake, gazing at the coated base with a soft pout as she took notice of how unremarkable it was.

"I haven't even decorated it," She mused while sniffling. 

"-I didn't make enough frosting to finish it anyway," She thought while huffing. 

 "I'm so sorry Michael," She said while feeling disappointed. 

His head slightly cocked as he took a moment to gaze down at the gently frosted cake, staring down at the simplistic sweet with rapidly blinking eyes that took in the sight. 

Afterward, a low breath left him, because he then understood why she'd even bothered to bake the treat.

"I remembered it was your birthday," She started, "And I wanted to give you a nice, little surprise," she said while shaking her head, the action making his hand fall back to his side as he continued to listen to her ramblings. 

" - But I haven't even gotten dressed," she continued. "I look like a complete mess, and there isn't any dinner re-"

She was then cut off by an unfamiliar feeling, it being a warm, soft press to the side of her neck. 

Her skin warmed, and a shudder left her as she realized that it hadn't been the touch of the lifeless latex that touched her, but rather, the graze of the man beneath the mask, gently caressing her in a way that seemed almost loving and comforting.

His body then leaned over hers, and his arms fully rounded her, pulling her flush against him.

She could hear his breaths become more labored and a low rumble left him, 

"(f/n)..." 

His call was low, almost whispered, but even so, it held a strength behind it.

It was then that out of the corner of her eye, she saw the infamous mask lay at the counter, its eyeholes staring right at her while its owner continued to smother her. 

The sight made her vision become blurred and hazy before she tightly closed her eyes and leaned back onto him, right onto his affectionate nuzzling.

 And while his touch was always one to fully drug her, she was far too enthralled by the discarded disguise to sink into the same realm of overwhelming bliss he usually sedated her into.

Instead, she continued to steal glances at the discarded mask, her heart palpitating in a way that felt almost pained in a manner that she never wanted to forget. 

'Michael...' She started, focusing on the feel of his hands over her, which, on that particular night, felt especially tender, something that was a complete contrast to the selfish desire he typically displayed.

He then encouraged her to turn, instantly diving into the side of her neck to give her little, quick presses that seemed never-ending, ceasing only when he felt the trailing wetness that dripped down from her sweet face.

He stopped, his body racked with a little shiver as his eyes opened up from their closed state to watch her. 

(F/n) then giggled, the little titter only causing him to stare at her with more intensity.

"Oh, Michael," she breathed, "I just....I, I love you so much," She confessed, not knowing what to expect from him at her confession.

As for him, the pain in his chest became prominent yet again, but there was a soothing relief that lived in him as she breathed out the words.

His response came in the form of a needy kiss while his hands sunk into her soft flesh, squeezing and kneading, having no desire for anything but the woman who’s heart belonged to him.

He enjoyed the selfishness of her love as he continued to devour her, leaving no spot untouched and unexplored as he enjoyed the rest of his Birthday with her in his arms.

[feeling--pink]

Recently I decided that the fireside girls are phenomenal and deserve much more characterization than they got in the show. I’m very sorry for how long it took me so long to realize this!

Anyways to start off here’s some casual clothes since we never saw them outside their uniforms in the show!! Explanations for each under the cut as per usual! :D

~

Just a disclaimer that while I used every scrap of evidence I could find from the wikis and rewatching the failed pilot episodes that I did have to make some stuff up for these. In the future I hope to build on what the show gave us for more fully fleshed out characters but until then here’s a start!! 

Gretchen

I should let y’all know now that I did base their color schemes off of those in act your age! But I gave everyone a secondary color as well (if they didn't already have one)

Gretchen, according to the wiki is “Extremely Smart, happy” (extremely smart being unique)

She is also the only (known) one with the Saying A Word No One Else In The Room Knows Patch 

From that we can take that she’s in the same sort of archetype as Huey Duck, Violet Sabrewing, Frida (hilda), Clemont (pokemon xyz), etc. 

So I tired to base her outfit on them!

In this case it’s mostly Huey, Violet, and Frida because pokemon outfits follow different rules 

Violet and Frida’s outfits are more similar because they’re what I consider “comfortable” 

And while I love their designs I decided to go the other route!

The other route being Huey! Aka I wanted to give her a polo shirt skjdfhgk

Besides, for Gretchen’s age up design I think her outfit fits in the same category as Violet and Frida’s do! So we’ll get there eventually!

But anyways yes, I took the polo shirt from Huey then decided I should probably give her pants because she isn’t a duck where its socially acceptable to not wear pants sksajdhfgaks

So yeah a pleated skirt just seemed the right way to go yes? :D

Katie

Yes Katie is wearing crocs

Why you may ask?

BECAUSE WHAT ARE THOSE SUPPOSED TO BE OTHER THAN CROCS

LISTEN- I tried, I really did, to come up with something other than crocs

But I couldn’t hecking do it 

Well I couldn’t without ignoring this part of her character design which is 90% of what I have to go off of

Anyways from her wiki entry her personality is described as “Kind, helpful, cute”

This makes cute her only unique trait among all the fireside girls (except technically Isabella)

She’s also the only (known) one with the semaphore patch (that isn’t on her wiki but it is stated in bee story) 

btw this is totally unrelated to my design but I’m thinking what if Katie got into color guard when she’s older? skjdhfakasj idk I think she would like it

Anyways!! At another point in the wiki it mentions her “running gag” (running gag in quotations because it only happened once I watched the episode specifically looking for this) where she says/does unusual things to get a glance from the other girls

I’m taking that to mean she’s silly!!!!! 

Hence the crocs sksjdhfak

The overalls just seemed to fit her nature, and like I know Baljeet already has overalls but she’ll fight him for it k? skjhdsak

Milly

I’ll say here that Milly and Holly have the least characterization from their wikis which I’m very sad about

Okay so Milly’s  “Kind, helpful, Happy” (no unique traits), is bad with secrets (operation crumb cake), and has one more Help Thy Neighbor patch because she went back to Phineas and Ferb’s house after everyone left at some point

Unfortunately from first glance we don’t don’t have a lot to go off of character design wise with these

However!! I know another character who's bad with secrets, helpful, and wears a bow in her hair!! That's right- Webby Vanderquack (btw very sorry to anyone who hasn't watched Ducktales I’m gonna keep bringing it up because I love it a lot I’m sorry)

So I loosely based this design on Webby’s! Aka dress shirt thing (in this case, a blouse) and a skirt that I think is neat!! 

Webby’s design leans more into her nerdy side and so I made Milly’s lean toward sweetness!! (not saying Milly isn’t nerdy, there's just no evidence to suggest that she is so I didn’t lean into that) (also that would be too close to literally just drawing Webby’s outfit which I also didn’t want to do)

Holly

I’m restating that Holly and Milly get practically nothing from their wikis (Holly getting the least)

Like  “Kind, nice, helpful” -The P&F wiki on Holly

Go girl!! Give us nothing!!!!!

skjdjhf okay but actually there is exactly one thing we can get from the wiki

While she doesn't have any unique patches, if we look at my patch reference sheet below

You may notice that for all the patches that 3 people got; Gretchen and Holly have all four (Ginger being replaced with Adyson for the Rodeo Clown patch)

In conclusion: Gretchen and Holly are best friends.

Look I know I’m blowing this a little out of proportion, but they gave me literally nothing so I’m running with what I have

Anyways!! I’m taking Gretchen and Holly being best friends as Holly is also wicked smart!! 

So in conclusion that all adds up to I’m also making Holly’s outfit nerd-esq because I can

This time basing it loosely of of Satsuki from My Neighbor Totoro because she’s who I think of for an orange and yellow color scheme! 

(she also gives me Boyd (DT again) vibes from the color I chose for the shorts though haha)

Adyson

Starting right off the bat the wiki gives us “Sometimes comical, helpful, accident-prone, nice”

Accident prone gives us bandages

Adyson also has the unique patch of the appliance repair patch 

She also used to have the record patch for earning six patches in one day before Candace broke that record!

So I gave her running shorts and a sleeveless hoodie because I take that as she’s slightly sporty (athlesure but more casual)

Adyson was really much more straightforward than the others

I had an idea in my head that made sense so I went with it, y’know?

Ginger

okay but WHY IS GINGER SO TALL

I’m not even talking about how much taller I made her here because I was basing it off of the show!!! She’s stupid tall!!! 

And like I know Stacey and her mom are both tall so of course she would be too but LOOK AT THIS

I MEAN ?????? BRO-

Anyways moving on! :D

I REALLY liked her light blue and indigo color scheme in aya so I tried to keep that! 

I wish I could have incorporated a little more light blue but with the style of dress I went with that wasn’t really possible

Speaking of her dress!! Why’d I do that you may ask? 

I dunno I thought it looked cute! 

Listen- I love giving explicit reasons for each and every choice I make, but honestly there's usually a point where I have no ideas and go “eh its cute”

and thats what happened here! 

Thanks for reading if you got this far!!

If I missed some details or you have ideas please come talk to me!! I really want to do a good job for these guys (they absolutely deserve it) and could use all the help I can get! 

[alilbihh]

tomorrow (forever) | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: it's only after two of your best friends get married that you and jungkook realize maybe marriage isn't that bad of an idea at all.

words: 2.3k

genre: established relationship!au, fluff, jungkook is just! a fool in love!!

a/n: I just love him ok!!! wanna kiss his nose!!!! and i took way too long to actually finish smth for the bingo. sdjksdgkj. ty for reading

The thing is, you predicted this marriage not too long ago. Or maybe it wasn't long ago at all.

It's one thing to be there when Hoseok and Yoongi are stupidly, densely in love with each other, with exchanging looks and lingering touches and letting them cry on your shoulder because they were in love with their best friend and didn't know what that meant.

It's another thing entirely, though, to be nursing a glass of wine offered to you in a tray and a well dressed waiter, poking at the decidedly uncomfortable dress digging into your side, watching the couples dance and the group of middle aged uncles cheer and the unwilling children skirt around their mother's dresses as they urge them to say hello.

You think you're tired but the buzzing in your ears tells you you're not. Hoseok keeps going around showing off his ring finger and Yoongi keeps kissing his knuckles and Jimin won't stop crying from even before the vows were said and it's all very dramatic and emotional and you can't stop smiling.

Jungkook's probably off somewhere to both charm and gain the favor of unsuspecting grannies, and when you strain your eyes to look sure enough, an older woman with too many rings and kind eyes is leading your boyfriend to a table of fruit slices and punch, probably saying something like eat, eat, you're too skinny, even though he probably has more muscle than actual flesh. You've seen this situation before.

The granny in question is shoving an entire cornucopia in his hands and watching expectantly, and you think you can pinpoint the moment he spots you watching him, eyes lighting up and his smile widening and this little bounce in his step he does when he's excited and can't quite hold it all in. You're so fond you don't think you can hold it all in, either.

He's hurriedly setting down the fruits and bowing respectfully at the granny before rushing towards you, first a walk then a jog then too-long strides that isn't quite considered a run and make him look so ridiculous you can't help but laugh. He's laughing when he reaches you, too.

Jungkook gently takes a hold of your hand, and you set down your glass of wine so he can take hold of the other, swings them around lightly,

"Y/n, hello, hello," he says, grins, clears his throat so he can push down some of the fondness leaking through his tone before finding that he doesn't need to and saying, "Did I tell you how beautiful you look?"

(Which is-- a ridiculous thing to say, really, because-- he's the one who drove you two here, and the first thing he said when he saw you was a mumbled wow and he's complimented you, like, three more times since then, and it's-- a lot. You just love him a lot.)

You pretend to think, hum lowly and say, "Huh, I can't recall. Might want to say it again."

Jungkook grins, never stopped, gently pulls you up, up, mumbles against your forehead, "Well, let me be the first to tell you that you look stunning."

You adjust his tie slightly, brush off his tux, grin something goofy and lopsided. "You look quite dashing yourself, mister Jeon. Very smart."

His hair is a bit disheveled, not quite as put together as it was when he first arrived, and when you squint you think there's a weird stain on his dark suit that's barely visible but still very much there that you're sure he, himself, has no idea of its origins. His eyes are a little wild and he's probably a bit tipsy. He's the prettiest man you've ever seen.

"Hmm," Jungkook hums something teasing, grins teasingly, too, "Will I look more smart if I start doing math problems here and now? Will it arouse you?"

You slap lightly at his chest as he laughs, "Shut up, nerd," you say but it doesn't come out nearly as menacing as you wanted it to. "Did you drink already?"

"Duh. Everyone did." As if on cue, Seokjin waltzes by in all his pink suited glory, hugging a wine bottle to his chest and whining to a nearby uncle about the extreme lack of kitchen utensils in the establishment. Someone should probably go control him.

"Where's Namjoon at a time like this?" You say, seconds before your eyes widen and you continue with a low, "Don't tell me he's drunk? Oh no. Drunk Namjoon is not a good Namjoon."

Jungkook winces, too, probably also recalling that one time Namjoon got drunk, barfed his guts out on a nearby tree, then started aggressively speaking spanish to it, in that order. You didn't know Namjoon knew spanish. Namjoon didn't know he knew spanish.

"It's.. not a good time." Is all Jungkook says.

You're both still standing in a corner by the bar, wrapped up and spewing nonsense to each other, and you think there's something you could say here, something to fill the silence, but this is nice, too. Like there's no need to fill it at all.

He's just started swaying you both to the music completely out of rhythm, something a bit slower than the upbeat song probably chosen by Hoseok, when the song abruptly cuts off, Taehyung tap, tap, tapping at the mic, someone that you think is the dj distantly yelling complaints.

"Alright, time for our dear friend Yoongi to throw the bouquet! Whoever's interested can line up, come, come, come!"

When you look over Jungkook's shoulder you see a very blushy, very displeased Yoongi and a very delighted Hoseok nudging him forward, the shorter man clutching at the blue and white flowers in his hands. Seokjin is cackling hysterically.

"Y/n-ah!" Jungkook gasps, swinging your arms around like a madman, "I wanna catch the bouquet!"

You snort, because of course he does, "Isn't that a lady thing?"

He scoffs, "That's dumb. Since when do I adhere to social norms." He's bouncing in place again, glancing from you to the dance floor and back, where a small group of women have gathered. You laugh.

"Go, go, I'll watch from here," You say and he sprints, and you watch with a laugh because--really, he stands out like a sore thumb, the tallest of them all, a black tux amidst a sea of colorful dresses. Yoongi's standing on a small podium, his back facing them all, preparing to throw the bouquet, and you think you can see everyone holding their breath in anticipation.

The whole situation is so immensely endearing, a small congregation of women with their hands already in the air, Jungkook doing little hops despite being able to easily see over all their heads.

You're so wrapped up in your thoughts, with the idea of what you'll do when Jungkook comes back all pouty and empty handed, that you don't really process when it happens; Jungkook springing into the air, clutching the bouquet to his chest like a lifeline.

He turns, grins victoriously, waving his newly acquired bouquet in the air, says something along the lines of look, look, Y/n-ah, look, I caught it, I caught the bouquet, but your brain just kind of-- short circuits.

Like yes, maybe it's just a bouquet, just a silly tradition for people to think they're meant to get married next, but that's exactly it. Jungkook caught the bouquet. That means he's meant to get married next.

By the time Jungkook reaches you, the thought marriage marriage marriage has kind of already wrapped itself around your head, echoing mercilessly. What if this were your wedding? Would you cry during your vows, like Jungkook most definitely will? What if you two were the ones to decorate the venue, to argue over its color scheme, to taste test wedding cakes until Jungkook tastes sweet sweet sweet. If every time you held hands you'd feel the smooth line of a ring, if you could look down at your ring finger and remember how much you love, love, love.

Jungkook's still looking at you expectantly when you come to.

"Um." You blink. "Congrats."

"See? I told you I could do it." He runs a finger over the petals, brows furrowed, mumbles a low what kind of flower is this, inspecting them seriously, completely unaware of your inner turmoil. And you feel kind of-- overwhelmed, maybe, of this boy, this beautiful boy, and wonder if maybe he feels the same way, maybe he'll want to spend forever with you, too.

Jungkook's still talking when you snap out of it, "...And then I was like, I'm gonna do it, and then hyung was like, don't do it, and then I was like, why can't I do it, and then he said something about it not being a good idea? I was honestly shocked. When do I not have good ideas."

"Preposterous." You say, just to have something to say.

"Absolutely preposterous." He nod nod nods, and you wonder when you both started swaying, the song already something softer and slower.

"I'm gonna," you breathe, "Gonna get a drink, I think."

"Oh! Me too, me too. Let's go," He takes a hold of your hand, which is-- devastating, really. Here you are, trying to escape the thought of marrying your boyfriend with your boyfriend following you. Devastating.

You trail behind as he leads you back to the bar, keeps holding your hand while he orders for you both, tilts his head and says whaddya want, baby? And it's, just. Devastating.

You feel a bit like how you did in your first date, just toeing over the line between friends and lovers, wondering what to do next. Feel a bit lost but not quite, feel comfortable where you are, but at the same time kind of want to be introduced as Jungkook's spouse. And kiss Jungkook's ring. And--

"Hey," Jungkook breathes into your ear, laughs when you jump, "What're you thinking so intently about?"

"About how to get you to never do that again." You stick your tongue out at him. He does the same.

"C'mon, c'mon, tell me," he says, giggling sporadically, shuffles his chair closer to yours. He looks like he wants to keep going but his eyes widen suddenly, something like the beginning of a bad idea in the glint in his eyes, "Hey, hey, I just had an idea."

"Yeah?" You grin, wave the bartender over when you see him with your drinks.

Except when he's about to set your drink down, Jungkook leans in close and--"Let's elope," and you, one: flail your arms, two: choke a little, and three: knock over your drink.

Jungkook's too busy laughing to both acknowledge and explain himself, so you're left to profusely apologize to the very confused bartender and aggressively wipe napkins over the counter. It's a mess.

"Jungkook!" You hiss once the bartender goes away, "You can't just-- why!"

"Because it's fun," he giggles, cheeks tinted rosy gold.

"What just happened?" A voice says suddenly overhead, and when you turn you see an equally confused Hoseok rightfully worried over what's going on at his wedding. This is probably the first time you've seen him away from Yoongi the whole night.

"Y/n just spilled her drink." Jungkook tattles immediately.

"I did not-"

"It just flew everywhere, all over the place. There was an avalanche of it. People were swimming in it, slipping in it, they're considering calling for a nationwide rationing of wine just to make up for—"

"Shut up, I hate you," he grins, and what you say is rendered ineffective when you let your boyfriend pull you close to kiss your temple.

Boyfriend. Because—you're not married. But maybe that's not the worst thing in the world, suddenly.

It's a few hours later, the venue growing more spacious, more empty, when you bring it up again-- Jungkook already beside you, tracing a nonsensical pattern over the back of your hand. You don't think he realizes what he's doing. The thought makes you so endlessly fond.

"Guk?" You mumble. He hums in question, head tilting to give you his full attention.

"Wha'sit, baby?" He drawls.

You breathe. There's some confetti stuck to his hair, and you laugh softly before plucking it out. He just grins and lets you, ducks his head before watching you through his lashes. You run a hand through his hair, then, the gel already having disintegrated into his skull or whatnot, fringe sticking to his forehead. He closes his eyes. Looks so pretty you might just burst.

You let in a breath. Let it out. Count to three. Say-- "That's where we're headed, right?"

It takes a second, then two. Jungkook opens his mouth, as if to say something, closes it. Looks around, and you think you can pinpoint when he realizes you're not talking about home, at least not in the literal sense.

He cracks a smile, lets out the softest laugh. "Oh, baby," he coos, kisses your knuckles once, twice, thrice, lets out the goofiest grin. "Of course, Y/n-ah, my baby. We're in this together, hm?"

(There's hints, later, too-- sometimes he'll be eating cereal and randomly say maybe yellow would be nice for our wedding, sometimes you'll walk past jewelry stores and he'll give you this soft little nudge of presence. Sometimes he'll stare a few seconds too long at your empty ring finger.

You wonder, wonder when he started saying when, when we get married, not if. Wonder when he started being so sure of it, this fiercely sure thing. Wonder when you started agreeing without much thought.

You're not engaged, not quite yet, but your heart kind of-- swells, when you think about it, that one day you will be, maybe not too far from now.

Tomorrow, though-- tomorrow. Right now, you're content as it is. You can figure out forever tomorrow.)

[star-whores-a-new-hoe]

Oneshot: Anakin’s manicure // Anakin X Reader

Summary: You paint Ani’s nails

Word count: 800

Warnings: Cuticles? Bad writing and typos as usual! 

A/N: I KNOW that this is really short but I don’t have enough Ani fics and, well, I make the rules on this blog! Also, thank you to @anakinswhore​ for the help! Hope ya’ll like it!

The stench of nail polish wafted through the apartment, the unpleasant smell greeting Anakin’s nose as he entered your shared abode.

“Y/n?” He called, a questioning tone creeping its way into his voice as he made his way into the living room. 

“In here!” You called. He made his way into the living room, curious to see what you were up too.

Ani’s harsh features gave way to a glowing smile as his eyes fell upon you, spread out on the floor surrounded by several bottles of polish, your eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

He chuckled lightly as he leaned against the doorway. “What are you up to?”

“Painting my nails.” You told him in a sing-song voice. setting the polish you were using aside, you extend your hands out for Ani to see. “What do you think?” He walked over to where you laid and sat down, taking your hand in his gloved one. “Careful, they're still a little wet.” 

“Alright, alright.” He chuckled, admiring the manicure. He studied the polish as if in deep thought, admiring the shiny coat that decorated your soft hands.

“What is it?” You asked, taking your hands from his and waving them around lightly, in a vain attempt to make them dry faster.

“Do you think,” he brushed his flesh hand across your cheek. “That you could paint my nails?” You took a moment to process his words before your face lit up with excitement. 

“I would love to!” You rifled through your bottles of nail polish, trying to find the perfect color. “I think you’ll look really good with a deep red color, and maybe a matte finish. Ohh!” You cried with delight. “Maybe even some glitter!”

He laughed at your eagerness, his scar wrinkling as his smile spread across his face. “You are so adorable when you’re excited.” You felt yourself become slightly bashful from his comment, your heat begging to beat faster just from his simple statement.

“Oh hush, gimme your hand.” 

“You’re the boss.” He affirmed as you took his large hand in yours.

“Oh stars, just look at your cuticles!” 

“Hey.” He said with mock offense. “Cuticles aren't exactly my top priority at the moment.” 

“Well cuticles like this aren’t allowed under my roof!” 

“Our roof.” He corrected.

You smirked at him. “Our roof.” You leaned forward, tenderly brushing your lips against Ani’s in a gentle but passionate kiss. “At any rate,” you said, pulling away. “They need to go.” With that, you grabbed a cuticle pusher and set to work.

“Owww!” He complained.

“Oh come on, chosen one, it’s not that bad.” 

“But it hurts!” 

“You’ve had your hand cut off, it can’t be that bad!” You quipped. “Besides, I’m done.” You put down your torture device and picked up a deep red nail polish. 

Anakin watched intently as you carefully painted his finger tips with delicate precision, studying the way your forehead creased in concentration and the way your soft hand felt holding his tenderly. His eyes softened as he took in your lovely face. You looked up from your work, suddenly aware of his eyes upon you.

“What?”

“You’re so beautiful.”

You scoffed. “You said that already.”

“No, I said you were adorable, there’s a difference.” You shook your head. “Hey,” he said, once again cupping your cheek. “I mean it.” You put the nail polish aside and stroked some of Ani’s soft locks out of his face. 

“I know you do.” You placed a tender kiss on the tip of his nose. “I love you Ani.”

“I love you too.” as the two of you stared at each other, a peaceful silence wafted through the room, encompassing the both of you in a tranquil moment. 

“Well, your left hand is finished.” You told him, finally. He pulled back to examine his hand 

“These are amazing! Too bad we can’t do the other hand.” He said, looking down at his gloved limb. 

“Who says we can’t?” 

                                                          ***

“Do you think this mission will be difficult, Master?” Ashoka asked as she walked with Anakin, doing her best to match his long strides as they walked down the grand Jedi temple hall. 

“Don’t worry snips, Should be a piece of cake.” He told her, waving his hand as if to wave off the idea of a difficult mission.

“Wait a second!” She said stopping in her tracks. “What is that?” Anakin looked at her in confusion before realizing what she was referring to.

“Oh, do you like it? Y/n did them!” She leaned forward to get a good look at them.

“Wow, those aren’t half bad.”

“That’s not even the best part!” Ani said as he pulled off his leather glove, revealing his metal hand, now adorned with matching red nail polish on the shiny silver surface.

“Oh maker!” Ashoka laughed. “Does she take walk-ins?”

[garbagevanfleet]

Learn To Leave A Room (series)

PART THREE

Pairing: Jake & female!Reader Warnings:  REAL ACTUAL SEXUAL CONTENT. 18+ ONLY. Summary: Balancing relationships is hard work - God forbid someone throw a wrench into it. Notes:  I appreciate everyone that likes, reblogs, and comments. There’s a special place in heaven for people like you. <3

MASTERLIST

“I am not ashamed, the story goes. I swear I will learn to leave a room without touching every part of your face.” — Marcelo Hernandez Castillo, “How to Grow the Brightest Geranium,” published in Breakwater Review

The cake is perfect. It’s exactly what you had ordered - a vanilla cake with blush pink, buttercream frosting. Little edible pearls spell out Lucy’s name. It’s uncanny how perfectly it mirrors her personality. 

It lives in your fridge for six hours before you head to the party, next to a carton of orange juice and a bag of baby carrots. You think about it periodically while you get ready, trying to remind yourself not to forget it when you leave. 

Lucy had requested that you wear something “really cute for pictures”, so you had gone and bought the most pastel dress you could find at Forever 21 and hung it in the back of your closet. 

You’re trying to figure out if it makes more sense to do your makeup first and risk smearing your foundation on the dress as you slip it on, or put the garment on first and risk dusting powder on it. You weigh the options as you lay out every product you want to use, but in the end, you decide to slide the dress on and then tuck an old t-shirt into the neckline like a bib. It looks stupid, but it gets the job done, because you do drop a pea-sized glob of concealer onto it, and it surely would have stained the lilac-colored fabric.

You run your fingers through the loose curls that you’ve shaped your locks into, and straighten your dress in the mirror.  When you’re finished, you grab your keys and your phone, and you do get all the way out to your car before you realize you forgot the cake. 

It’s only 6 pm when you pull up to the Kiszka house, but Lucy had texted you earlier asking if you wanted to come and help her put up decorations, so you agreed. You’re glad that you did because she’s hectically taping candy pink streamers around the supporting boards on the ceiling. 

“Lucy, wow,” you say. “You look incredible.”

And she does. Her long blonde hair is in a loose, fishtail braid down her back and she’s wearing a party dress the exact color of the cake you’d brought. She only turns her head to look at you and give you a smile. 

“Thanks, babe. I’d look better if I didn’t have to sweat my butt off rehanging these streamers,” she explains, shooting Josh a look, who you realize is leaning leisurely against a doorway instead of doing any work. He grins at you, feigning innocence.

“I don’t really feel like there’s a wrong way to hang them,” Josh argues lightheartedly. “I guess I just don’t know about taping shit.”

You breathe a laugh at him and cross the room to give him a one-armed hug, careful to not risk dropping the cake. He takes it from you and disappears with it in the kitchen. There are heart-shaped mylar balloons everywhere; across the ceiling, tied to the stair railing, framing the doorways. 

“It looks like Valentine’s Day in here,” you say sweetly and Lucy hums back at you.

“I have a lot left to do, but isn’t it pretty?” 

“It’s gorgeous,” you agree. 

You had been completely distracted by everything that you hadn’t worried about Jake once since you got there, so when he steps into the living room through the kitchen archway, it knocks the smile right off of your face. 

You are not sure of much in your life, but you’re positive you’ve never seen him look so good. He looks like the antithesis of this party, dressed in a ripped pair of dark-wash jeans and a button-down that’s undone down to the base of his sternum. An array of long necklaces rest over the exposed flesh. 

The nerve. 

Looking at him is like trying to look directly into the sun, so you try to keep your eyes trained on anything else, but it’s nearly impossible. Lucy is turned away, and Josh is still in the kitchen, so you steal a glance over again. Since you’re the least lucky person you know, he meets your eyes, and the smirk he offers you back makes you wish you could choke him to death with all his stupid jewelry. 

“Can I help with something, Lu?” you ask, snapping yourself back to reality. 

“Wanna spread the glitter?” she asks in a sing-song tone. 

You frown deeply at her. 

“Glitter?” Jake asks in a tone that mirrors your exact confusion. “You know this is a house party, right?”

She nods at him but doesn’t say anything else.

You know you can’t reason with her, but you also know that you should try. “Lucy, isn’t glitter going to be a little messy? How are you going to clean it all up?”

“I’m not,” she responds through a grin that shows her blindingly white teeth. “It’s my birthday, so you guys are.”

You feel your face fall into a sour look, but she just keeps grinning at you. After a good five seconds of silence, you sigh and she points at a gallon-sized bag of glitter on the coffee table.

“For my birthday, I’m going to make you fill this entire house with foam like a rave,” you threaten. “And then, the morning after, I’m going to make your hungover ass eat it.”

She lets out a genuine laugh that makes you feel warm, so you can’t stay mad at her. 

“Wouldn’t it all melt?” Jake asks, playing along. 

“Then she can use a straw,” you say, but you still end up spreading glitter across the tables.

Half an hour later, you’re trying to dust tiny reflective pink stars off of your hands when you hear Lucy gasp. She had been setting cups out on the table, but now she’s staring at you with wide eyes. 

“Shit, we forgot to get alcohol!” she squeals and turns to look at Josh. “Is there anything left from the last party?”

He shakes his head. “Definitely not enough.”

“Will you pretty please make a booze run?” she begs you, looking like she’s about to cry. “I’m not even close to done here.”

“Of course I’ll go.” You start heading towards the door when Josh calls Jake’s name and it echoes through the house. 

Jake calls back a “what” from his room, but you can hear him start to make his way down to the living room.

“I’ll send Jake with you,” Josh explains, and then to Jake as he reaches the bottom stair. “You’ll escort her to the liquor store, right?” 

You try to stop it but your eyes pop open wide. “No, it’s okay. I’m perfectly capable of making it there and back.”

“Just go with Jake so he can help you carry it all,” Lucy insists like you’re being stupid, which you are. “You know what I like, and we need at least the same amount we had for the last one.”

You watch Josh hand Jake his debit card and then he ushers you both along. 

He doesn’t say it, but you figure that Jake is driving when he leads you out to his car, and you clamber in. The bench seat is freezing against your bare legs, and you feel like it’s somehow gotten colder out since you left your house. He must notice you curl in on yourself because Jake flicks the heat on high as soon as the car is started. 

On the drive into town, you’re acutely aware of the small amount of space between the two of you. There’s no center console, so the only thing separating you is a couple of cassette tapes and an unopened pack of cigarettes. 

You chance a look at him and instantly regret it. 

His profile is so unbelievably beautiful, from the slope of his nose to the way his hair rests on his shoulder. It’s starting to get dark out, but what’s left of the natural light makes his jaw look knife sharp. He licks his lips absently, but you can tell he’s aware that you’re staring at him now. It feels safer here, without the threat of Lucy or Josh’s prying eyes. Just you two in a glass box. 

Once your brain gets the idea that you need to touch him, you couldn’t stop yourself if you tried, so you don’t. You reach over slowly and place your hand on his thigh, but you force yourself to resist the urge to slide it up any further. 

He looks down at it and then over at you, and he breathes a disbelieving laugh. 

“You know, you’re starting to give me whiplash,” he says, but there’s no malice in his tone. His eyes flick back to the road. 

Your fingers press tighter into the fabric of his jeans as you open your mouth to speak. “I’m sorry,” you reply, but you know you’re not, and so does he. You wish you could tell him what you want, but you can’t quite find the words, so you just settle for focusing on the feeling of his leg beneath your palm. You leave it there the rest of the ride into town, but you manage to rip your eyes away and watch out your window as the shedding trees pass you by. 

When he pulls into the parking lot and turns the car off, you share a blank look. He’s not wearing that cocky smirk anymore, and you think he’s truly trying to figure out what you’re going to do next. But the joke is on him because not even you know. 

You head inside with him close behind you and grab a cart. A bottle or two of every type of alcohol you can think of finds its way in and you pull a bottle of birthday cake flavored vodka off a shelf. You smile down at it as you set it in with the rest. After you pick out mixers, you’ve got enough to last through three parties, you think. The cashier gives you a look that makes you think maybe you’ve gotten too much, but he rings it up all the same. 

You’re about to ask him to split the tab up, but Jake shakes his head and hands Josh’s card over. 

“We’ll get it,” he says under his breath.

You’re more than grateful to have him along as you pack everything into the backseat because you can admit when you’re wrong, and there’s no way you’d be able to handle all the bags yourself. 

The sun is completely gone as you hop back into the front seat, so the ride back is pretty dark, and you’re a little grateful because it eliminates the temptation of stealing looks at him. However, that doesn’t stop you from placing your hand back on his leg, maybe a little higher up this time, but hey, who’s keeping track?

You keep thinking about his outfit. He normally dresses somewhat like that, doesn’t he? You can’t recall ever being quite so taken aback by his appearance. By the time you’re just a minute away from home, you’ve convinced yourself that he’s dressed like this deliberately, and it makes you wonder if he’d done the same for the last party. 

He parks the car, but you don’t make an effort to get out, so neither does he. He looks over at you expectantly, an eyebrow cocked slightly.

You hold his gaze and, heart racing, you start to slide your hand farther up his thigh. His eyes flick down at it, but it isn’t until your fingertips are brushing over his zipper that he grabs your wrist. The motion is so quick that it startles you a bit. You hold your breath, suddenly worried that you’ve gone too far. 

He looks like he’s considering letting you keep going, but after a few seconds he lets out a shaky laugh.

 “We need to get back inside,” he says, but his voice has taken on that tone again. The silky one that commands your attention. 

You laugh breathlessly back at him and he lets go of your wrist. You don’t let yourself feel like a scolded school kid as you get out of the car, but you can feel yourself blushing. 

Josh opens the front door and jogs out, Sam just behind him.

 “Where’d you come from?” you quip at Sam.

“I was napping,” he says through a goofy smile.

You feign outrage. “Are you telling me that I was spreading glitter and you were sleeping?”

“In my defense,” he starts and then brushes past you to open the back door to the car. “There’s no way I’d help with glitter. And being in charge of the music is a really exhausting job.” 

“I’ll gladly take it over for you,” you tease. It would be nice to be able to hear yourself think this time around.

 “You can pry it out of my cold, dead hands.” 

Josh ushers you inside empty-handed, and you smile gratefully at him. It takes the boys two trips to bring in the bags, but as soon as they’re set down on the kitchen counter, you start to unpack them. Lucy trots up to your side, giving you a hug.

“Thank you so much for going to get all this,” she whines and you hug her back. “You’re a great friend.”

“I know,” you tease. You can see that she’s been busy since you’ve been gone. There’s now little heart-shaped sugar cookies and chocolate dipped pretzel sticks laid out around the house for snacking, and you cannot imagine a reality where there isn’t pink and white frosting puked all over this house in the morning.

You grab out five shot glasses from the cupboard as the boys join you in the kitchen. Lucy looks absolutely delighted at the sight of her special birthday cake vodka, and after pouring you each a shot, you hold your glass up and turn to her.

“To Lucy,” you say and she beams a smile at you. “And to Valentine’s Day in October.”

The alcohol is so sweet that it makes you cough, but you laugh as Lucy picks up the bottle and takes another pull. She disappears into the living room with it under her arm.

As soon as people start arriving, they don’t stop until the house is packed. You get to catch up with old friends from high school, and you drink until you’re feeling nice and loose. This time when Lucy asks you to dance, you don’t put it off. You twirl around with her, and she doesn’t let go of the bottle of vodka the entire time.

The house is warm from so many bodies and it makes your hair stick to your skin. Luckily you had thought ahead to wear waterproof makeup, so when you find yourself checking it in the bathroom mirror there are no smudges to clean up - only flecks of pink glitter dusted across your nose like freckles.

The cake finds its way out unceremoniously and Lucy’s so drunk that she just swipes frosting off the top of her slice. You watch her lick it off of her finger and then offer it Josh to do the same and you shake your head. He laughs at her, but you look away before you see anything else, opting instead to make yourself another drink.

You wind your way through people, too drunk to care too deeply if you bump into anyone. The concoction you mix is a bit too strong, but the cup is too full to add more mixer, so you don’t make any moves to fix it. You’re thinking about trying to stir through it with a straw when you notice that Jake is standing feet away from you. Has he been there the whole time? You think yes, especially when you realize the girl that’s standing between you and him is having a full-blown conversation with him. You want to laugh at the lump in your throat that feels suspiciously like envy.

He doesn’t look deeply invested, but he’s nodding and laughing at all the right moments. You’re not sure he’s spotted you until he locks eyes with you over her shoulder. It’s only for a second, but it makes your face hot, so you rip away and weave back into the living room, praying that he doesn’t think you were eavesdropping. 

You sit with Lucy and Josh on the couch where Lucy is trying to talk with you about a conversation she had with a high school friend. You’re not sure if it’s because she’s too drunk, or because you are, but you’re having trouble understanding her, so you just nod along. You have no idea what time it is, but people are finally starting to leave, and it gives you the warm feeling of a successful party as people come and say their goodbyes to the three of you collectively. 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t thinking about him before, but now for the rest of the night, you are hyper-aware of Jake’s presence. Every time he’s in the same room as you, your eyes are on him, and you have the sense to feel a little embarrassed about it. At first. But every sip of alcohol sees a fraction more of your inhibitions out the window. 

You should be at least trying to listen to Lucy, but out of the corner of your eye, you catch Jake standing by the staircase. He sets his drink down on the railing and goes to pull the pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, and looking back at you, he flicks his eyes toward the kitchen - an invitation for you to follow. 

You go to excuse yourself, but Josh and Lucy are already standing to hug someone else goodbye, so you’re able to slip away undetected. 

The rest of the house is really starting to clear out, but the kitchen is still the most populated as people rush to get one more drink before it’s all over. You’re easily able to shoulder past them to make your way through, and you find that Jake is already waiting for you on the porch when you get out there. 

The October air is chilly, and you think you’d be colder if you weren’t so full of alcohol. Still, you wrap your bare arms around your chest to preserve heat, and you unabashedly watch his fingers as Jake pulls a cigarette out and slips it between his lips. You’re impressed with how sober he can act as he fumbles with his lighter, especially since you’ve been watching him drink all night. Once he gets it lit, you watch him take a drag. 

Neither of you says a word, but the silence is comfortable as you just stare at each other.  You wish you could play coy - pretend that you weren’t sure if you were going to end up fucking him, but you know, and so does he. 

The way his eyes rake up and down your body makes your breath catch. It feels like his gaze is touching you, leaving your skin to tighten in its wake. You think he might kiss you - you’re hoping - and you brace yourself for it, but he doesn’t. He just smirks at you, and a drunken worry that he can read your thoughts crosses your mind.

When he finishes his cigarette, he stubs it out into the railing, then he gestures you back toward the door and follows you in. You’d only been out there a few minutes - or at least you think it was only a few minutes - but when you reenter, the kitchen is nearly vacant. The only people still lingering are Sam and a girl under each of his arms, one of them brushing her fingers through his hair. You laugh at them on your way past and receive a grin from him in return. 

The living room is completely empty, save for Lucy, who has just shed her heels onto the hardwood and is currently pulling off her earrings. 

“Wow, everyone left so quickly,” you remark, and you have to tell yourself not to look as Jake slips past you and disappears up the stairs. 

“I kicked them out,” Lucy replies sweetly. “It’s pretty late. Hey, do you want me to stay down here with you?” 

You give her a questioning look before you realize what she’s talking about. “Oh, no. I’ll be okay. I’m pretty used to sleeping on this couch.” You pat the back of it, giving her a smile. 

“Are you sure? Or maybe you want to come sleep with us upstairs?” 

The look Josh shoots her makes you laugh a little too loud and you shake your head. 

“Lucy, go. I’m going to be just fine.”

Josh has to help her up the stairs, but as soon as you’re sure that they’re in his room, you slip into the kitchen. Sam (and his girls) have disappeared too, and you allow a sigh of relief. You fill a glass with water and sip at it with the weak hope that it’ll lessen the hangover you’re due for in the morning.  

Back in the living room, you pull a blanket out of the wicker basket by the tv stand and place it over the couch. You stare at it ruefully for a brief moment before roughing it up to look used, just in case someone happens upon it and wonders where you are. A pang of nerves feels like hot fluid in your veins as you flick off the lights. As you’re heading up the stairs, you try to be completely silent. You’re relieved that you can’t hear anyone throughout the rooms, but you also eye the bathroom door, just in case anyone pops out and you have to pretend that you’re too drunk to find your way around.

You pause a second in front of Jake’s door, your hand on the knob. It’s only after you take a deep breath and count to three that you can turn the knob, even if it’s frustratingly slow.

You’re praying that the hinges won’t squeak, so you aren’t expecting it when the door is pulled the rest of the way open from the inside. You gasp as his hand finds its way to your hip and he gently tugs you into the room. He is decidedly less quiet as he shuts the door behind you with a thud. 

“Jake,” you scold through a grin. You feel his fingers press into your hip just a fraction tighter.

His room is dark and your eyes aren’t adjusted yet, but you realize how close he is as he breathes a laugh and it’s warm against your face. 

“Stop worrying so much,” he says, and for the third time in your life, that silky commanding tone of his has you feeling weak. He presses you back against the door and instinctively, your arms wrap around his neck.  When he brings his face closer to you, the smell of smoke and cologne in his hair is intoxicating. You curl your fingers through the strands and press your body back against his until you’re flush together. 

You’ve been anticipating it for so long that the first time that he kisses you, you can’t help but let out a moan at how satisfying it is. He hums a laugh against your lips, but you’re too drunk to feel self conscious about it. He tastes incredible as you start to lick into his mouth, your lips slipping together. He slides his hands down your back, slowly enough that you’re anticipating what he’ll do next. Another, dirtier sounding, moan escapes you as he cups your ass, pulling your hips closer. His fingertips knead into your flesh through the fabric of your dress, and you enjoy the warmth that washes through you. 

Your heartbeat picks up as his right-hand starts to wander lower until it’s wrapped around your thigh. When he starts to wrap your leg around his waist, you think you might lose your balance, but he counters the weight flawlessly, pressing you tighter into the door for support. He situates you until his leg is between yours. Your dress is riding up high enough that your panties are what slides against the denim of his jeans. The breath you let out is embarrassingly shaky as he teasingly rocks you forward, grinding you against his thigh. It’s silent enough in the space between you two that he hears it perfectly, and your sound pulls a smug hum from his throat. You kiss him again, deeper this time because the nerves are melting away with the pressure against your core. He lets you work yourself against him, but between the feeling building in you, and the sound of his timed breathing, it becomes increasingly hard to focus on what your lips are supposed to be doing. Your face feels as hot as the point where you’re meeting his leg, and you don’t realize how wet you’re really getting until you can feel the slip of your skin against your panties.

You break away from his mouth to breathe the word “fuck” against his cheek, but before you know it, he’s pulling his leg away. You let out a whimper and mourn the loss of contact as deeply as you would a dead friend. He huffs a pleased laugh into your ear, making you shiver and when you realize he’s teasing you, you frown - even though you know he can’t see it.

“That’s fucked up.” You intend it to sound angry, but it comes out in a soft, pleading whisper. He holds you far enough away that you can see his face, and you can just make out his features in the dim light coming from under the door.

 When he speaks, it’s with his hand cupping your jaw. “What’s fucked up is the way you’ve been fucking with me for weeks.” His tone is serious, but you can hear a hint of a smirk under it. 

“I wasn’t sure what I wanted,” you explain through a breathy laugh.

 He shoves you tighter against the door, and it doesn’t hurt in the slightest, but the strength of it only turns you on further.

He leans in and takes your lips against his again. “Don’t lie to me,” he says directly into your mouth as he pulls you away from the door and starts walking you both towards his bed. It’s clumsy because of the state of your sobriety, but when the backs of your knees hit the bed, he pushes you down on it. The slight force of the action elicits a low moan from you.

Ever ready to push him further, you lay back and run your hands down your body, slowing over every curve, and you have to bite your bottom lip at the look on his face. 

There’s an old neon light plugged into the wall in this corner of the room and the dull red catches against the side of his face. The sight of him standing over you - you’re sure you’ve never seen anything like it in your life. He slowly pulls off his necklaces and they make metallic noises as he lets them drop to the hardwood floor. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” you breathe and he cracks a smirk at you. You absolutely can’t help yourself - you sit up and start helping him undo the bottom buttons on his shirt, and as soon as the skin is exposed, your mouth finds it. Wet kisses leave shiny marks along his stomach and across his hips. His hand rakes through your hair, tugging the strands lightly. You nip into the skin and the feeling of his muscles jumping at the touch makes you groan through your teeth. 

Your fingers dance along the hem of his jeans, and without warning, you cup his cock through the fabric with your hand. The denim is a little too thick to feel the exact shape, but you can feel it getting harder as you palm against it. His grip in your hair tightens, maybe involuntarily, as your free hand fumbles with the button and then the zipper. You peel the fabric back and mouth over his cock through the thin fabric of his underwear. 

The little noise that falls out of his open mouth makes you feel instantly wetter, and you try to grind down against the bed for some reprieve, but it’s not quite enough to be satisfying. Your fingers are dipped under the band of his briefs, just about to tug them down when he gently shoves you back again. 

Your expression, eyes wide with shock, earns you a deep laugh from him. He pushes you up until you’re both fully on the bed and then crawls half over you, his hair falling around your face like a curtain. 

You reach up and run your fingers through it, scratching your nails lightly against his scalp. He dips down and kisses you again, but this time, he means business. He’s got his tongue in your mouth almost instantly, and you lick against it, tasting him. He tastes like sweet alcohol, but you lose focus the second you feel his grip on your knee. 

He starts to move his hand up your leg, painfully slow. When he gets to the hem of your little dress, he slides it up. His fingers press into the skin of your thigh, lightly at first, but then deep enough that you pray they leave bruises. You gasp against his lips, so he pulls away and leans in to nip at the skin on your neck. 

By the time his fingers catch against your panties, you’re feeling starved for the touch. He’s not giving you any pressure - any friction. It’s feather-light, but when he brushes over your clit, your hips buck into his hand without your permission.   

“Sit still,” he instructs, and it’s so sexy that it makes your eyes roll back. When his fingertips press against you again you have to press your hips flat to the bed to keep them from moving. Goosebumps rise over your limbs as he pulls your panties to the side and you feel his fingers toy along your skin before they pause. 

The look on his face is a little alarming. His brow is furrowed and the area around his lips is all red from the friction against your neck. His voice is already a little gravelly from want, so his voice comes out deep. “You are so fucking wet.”

You purse your lips together and bury your head into his shoulder. You’re way past feeling embarrassed, but you absolutely cannot handle him looking at you like that. The obscene whine you let out would be a little too loud if it wasn’t muffled against his hair, but you can’t stop it as his finger drags over your folds. When it dips into you, you can feel just how truly wet you are - you let him work it into you and love every movement. At that moment, you decide that his fingers are your very favorite thing about him.

You completely forget where and who you are until you hear how ragged his breathing is getting. He moves to delve in to the last knuckle, but as his body shifts, you can feel the length of him against your hip. 

“Jake,” you whisper, past the point of caring if you’re begging. “Please.”

He must be able to hear the desperation in your voice because he sits up and pulls you along with him, your arms tight around his neck. He holds your hair to the side as he undoes the zipper on your dress, and lets you shrug out of the garment. It gets set aside with care before his hand is cupping your breast, thumbing across the nipple. They’ve always been sensitive, so when he leans in to suck one into his mouth, you give a high whine from the back of your throat. Your fingers thread into his hair as his tongue circles around it. You’re thankful that he doesn’t waste too much time on them, but you can tell that he wants to. You make a note that if you ever get another chance at this with him, you’ll try to be patient enough to let him. 

He slides your panties down and onto the floor before he starts fumbling with his pants. The denim is so tight that he has to work a little to get them off, and it doesn’t help that his hands seem to be visibly shaking a little. You give a half-hearted laugh at the struggle.    

You are struck completely breathless, however, when he slides his briefs down and his hard cock is suddenly right there. At that moment, you decide that his fingers are no longer your favorite thing about him.

When he catches you eyeing it, he grips it and he gives it a couple of slow strokes, making a show of it for you. The fact that the sight makes your mouth water is fleetingly concerning to you, but you add another thing to your “next time list”.

You’re more than ready as he parts your legs and situates himself between them. Leaning over you, he presses his lips against yours and as he slides in, he swallows the shaky breath that you let out. 

He pauses for a moment after he’s in to the hilt, giving you a chance to adjust to it. He seems to be fighting the urge to move, and you think the sentiment is sweet. So sweet, in fact, that you feel slight butterflies, their wings beating against the inside of your stomach. But you have never been so turned on in your life, and you want this. 

You grip his hair, maybe a bit too tightly and look directly into his eyes. “Fuck me,” you demand through clenched teeth. The proud feeling you get from the way his breath catches will live in your head forever if you have any say about it.

He grips your thigh and hitches one of your legs over his hip before he starts thrusting into you. It feels so good that you can’t even make a noise; your lips just part as your chest tightens. His fingers have done such a good job at laying the groundwork that you feel like you’re already peering over the edge. You’re wet enough that just him thrusting in and out of you is enough friction on your clit and it feels like absolute heaven. 

He’s undeniably handsome under normal circumstances but he’s so much hotter in this moment than you ever could have expected. You can’t stop yourself from playing your fingers along his clenched jaw and his pulse races under your touch as he picks up a rhythm. You have to close your eyes because seeing his face like this is too much. 

You can feel him breathing hard against your cheek, and the space between you is so hot that you’re starting to sweat. You drag your nails down his back and he lets out a low hum between pursed lips. You try to imagine the red lines your fingers leave in their wake but he’s fucking you so good that all of your thoughts feel like they’re melting away before you can realize them. 

“Fuck, Jake,” you whisper against his lips and he desperately kisses you, like he’s afraid that the sound of your voice is going to send him over the edge. 

He shimmies up until his hips are flush against you and when he thrusts in again you have to cover your own mouth to keep yourself from crying out. The slight change to the position has him in you so deep that he’s grinding against your clit with every stroke. You’re so wet that you can feel it dripping and that thought alone makes you bite against your palm.

You can tell that he’s getting closer as his rhythm slowly starts to fall apart. He leans back and places one hand on your hip for leverage as the other starts rubbing firm circles into your clit. 

A string of expletives fall out of your open mouth into your palm, and you rock your hips into his touch, desperate for more of the hot feeling building in you. You don’t have to tell him that you’re going to come - you’re sure he can tell when your eyes roll back. As a last coherent thought, you recall something about him playing guitar, and you think that's maybe why he’s so dexterous - his fingers working so precisely against your clit. 

Before you can overthink it, you rip his hand from your hip and pull it up to your face. There’s a wild look in his eyes as you suck his forefinger and middle finger into your mouth. His jaw clenches tight as he starts to work them past your lips in time with his hips. He pushes them in just far enough that you can feel your throat threatening to gag.

Between his touch on your clit, his fingers in your mouth, and his cock sliding into you, the sensation overload sends you over the edge. Your eyes roll back and you can feel yourself clench around him as you come. 

He fucks you through it, slowing until his thumb is just brushing over you and patiently switching to long, deep thrusts. You hadn’t realized that you’d closed your eyes until you open them again. You can tell he’s so close to coming that he looks pained, and your hazy mind takes a split second to appreciate how insistent he’s been on your orgasm. He slowly pulls his fingers from your mouth, and you make sure to tease your tongue along them as he does. 

“Come on,” you say, your voice a bit fucked out. “Come for me.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, but he doesn’t wait for you to ask again. He leans over you, hands on either side of your head and starts fucking you in earnest. The rubbing against your clit is beyond intense post orgasm and you can’t hold back a whine. He feels incredible inside of you, and the sound of his jagged panting is something you never want to forget for the rest of your life.

He’s shaking as he pulls out of you and slides his cock through a tight fist a few times. He comes across your stomach with a low growl through clenched teeth and strokes himself for a moment longer.

You’re both panting as you come down from the high and you’re drunk enough that when you stare into his eyes, you don’t feel embarrassed. Your fingers reach up to tuck his sweat-damp hair behind his ear. Smiling down at you, he huffs a laugh. 

He fishes a t-shirt off of the floor and gently wipes his come off of your stomach, pecking a kiss against your cheekbone as a consolation. You try not to feel too sentimental about the gesture.

He pulls on a pair of loose shorts across the room and you watch intently as the dim, red light catches the sheen of sweat across his back muscles.

“Do you want me to go to the couch?” you ask gingerly as you sit up and pull his sheet across your bare chest. 

He turns and gives you a look that’s near mortified. “What? Do you want to?”

You shake your head. “No, I just-” You trail off as you reach for your panties and slip them back on. “Didn’t know what the boundaries were.”

He laughs at you, low and under his breath as he thrusts one of his clean t-shirts at you, and you slip it on gratefully. “Don’t you tire yourself out worrying so much?”

You offer him a smile and a shrug.

He crawls back into bed and pulls you down next to him. You’re not sure whether or not you’ll regret it in the morning, but you lay your head on his bare chest and press a kiss into the skin. He rubs his hand across your upper shoulders and wriggles until you’re flush against his side. You’re drunk and exhausted, and still coming down from an immense high, so you’re not sure if you’re dreaming it or not, but the last thing you seem to remember is him nuzzling his nose into your hair.

PART FOUR

Taglist:  @myownparadise96

[indiavolowetrust]

Fairy Tales for the Fallen

Other Tales: The Very Hungry Beetle, How the Arrogant Peacock Lost His Feathers, The Tongue-Cut Crow, The Little Scorpion, Others Coming Soon

HER NAME WAS THOUSAND-EYES

Once upon a time, there lived a wretched, unwanted child.

Oh, but who could blame his father? The child was borne of his father’s hatred and rage! The child was so unsightly that not even the beasts would have loved him, for his body was of the strangest, most curious shape. This child had bones the color of soot, which you could see through the dark, writhing mass of blazing flesh, and his head was shaped much like that of a some horrid hound. He nearly looked as if he had two faces, for his visage split open in the center whenever he feasted or smiled, and it was only after much disgust by his father that he stopped smiling. Worst of all were the twisted, pitch-black pair of horns that sprouted from his skull. It was this that forever reminded his father of the circumstances of his birth, and it was this that the wretched child would come to truly detest about his form. The child would do everything he could to wrench the offending things off, pulling and pulling with all his might – but it was of no use. The horns were as much a part of him as his bones.

Would you like to go to school? asked his father one day, peering over the desk. The wretched child looked up at his father with both surprise and curiosity, for his father never spoke to him first. His father only sighed. It is time you learned more about the world, said he. There are many more like you at school.

The wretched child did not know what school was, nor did he know why his father had asked, but he was so overjoyed that his father had spoken to him that he said, Yes, yes, I would! Thank you very much.

His father did not answer. There was only the scrawling of his quill against the parchment and the popping of the suet of the candle. It did not matter: he would be able to go to school! He would meet many more like him, and oh, no longer would he be so lonely! He would make many friends, so many that his father would not be able to count them. His father would come and see how well he was liked in this new place called school, and perhaps … perhaps he would come to like him as well, one day.

So the wretched child  did his best to be especially good for the rest of the day. He ate dinner with his brothers without making a fuss, combed his own hair, and even went to bed without asking any of his brothers to read from one of his picture books. He dreamt of many wonderful things that night, imagining all that could happen at this place called school, and he slept quite soundly.

The next day, his eldest brother walked him to school. He did his best not to skip the entire way, excited as he was, but even he could not help himself. Lucky for him, his eldest brother was in a good mood that day -- and in moments they began to race all the way to the front gates, the child laughing with glee. His eldest brother bade him good-by, and the child turned to face what lay within.

His father had lied.

The school was filled with children who looked like his brothers, not him. Some of these children had horns, yes, some of them even bearing a few tails or extra eyes or other oddities, but none were as monstrous as he. None possessed that terrible hound’s head or the strange, writhing flesh. None possessed sunken, blazing eyes or a maw that dripped with green flame. Other than the odd pairs of horns, none possessed the features that had led his father to hate him.

The school children, as if sensing a monster within their midst, steered clear of the wretched child. The child spent his first day at school alone, just as he always had at home.

And so came many lonely, long days at school. His teacher took pity on him and gave him many books to read, satiating only a bit of his curiosity, but not even she could stand to look at the wretched creature for very long. So she went away, and he was alone again.

One day, a girl with many eyes went and stood before him.

She blinked one eye. The other thousand followed. The wretched child could only stare at her as she asked, And what might you be?

The wretched child did not speak, so surprised was he that another had chosen to speak to him. The many-eyed girl stamped her foot and huffed at his silence, and once more she asked.

The wretched child blinked. Me?

Yes, you! The many-eyed girl made a very dramatic, sweeping gesture. Have you no ears? Answer me now, or I shall be very cross with you!

The wretched child did not speak for a moment, for not even he was sure of the answer. His father had told him that he came from him, you see, but not once did his father explain exactly what he was. But the girl in front of him had asked a question, he mused, so there must be some uncertainty regarding it. If she had asked, that meant he was much different from the other school children. What did that make him?

I am Thousand-Eyes, said the girl. She stuck her hand out to him, giving him an expectant look, and he took it. The girl shook it with vigor. My mother says she should have named me Thousand-One, or Thousand-and-One, or maybe even Too-Many, but they didn’t have enough time to count all of them. Tell me your name.

The wretched child began, I am --

And then he stopped. His father had never given him a name, he realized. What was his name?

It is very nice to meet you, I Am! The girl nodded quite solemnly, for the act of making friends is very serious for little children. Now we know each other! I hereby declare that we are friends from this day forward. Have you got any problem with that, I Am?

He did not.

And so Thousand-Eyes and the wretched child were inseparable from that day forward. Wherever Thousand-Eyes went, the wretched child followed. Whatever Thousand-Eyes did, the child did as well. Thousand-Eyes made up very many games for them to play, and their afternoons became filled with joy and laughter. The wretched child told Thousand-Eyes of the wonderful things he had learned in books, and Thousand-Eyes listened with rapt attention.

Will I ever go there someday? asked Thousand-Eyes, staring dreamily into the sunless sky.

Go where? he echoed.

Why, to the surface, of course! Thousand-Eyes stood to full height, which was not very tall at all, and perched herself upon the rock as if she were the queen of the world. The lights of the city lay before them, shining like beacons in the endless darkness. Mother says she has been there only a few times, but she has told me so little of her travels that I can only imagine what it is truly like! What if humans have streets paved with gold? What if honey cakes and roasted hazelnuts burst out from the flowers? Oh, how I wish to know!

The child had a sudden idea. Insidious as it was and secretive it would have to be, the child thought it was a very good idea indeed. He clasped one of his friend’s hands in his own claws and spoke the idea into her ear. Thousand-Eyes mulled over the idea for a moment, dumbstruck, for she had never even thought of this idea before.

Your father would be very cross with you, said Thousand-Eyes. I do not care if Mother scolds me when I return, but I do not want you to be needlessly punished. Are you sure?

Of course I am, lied the child. He only wanted to bring Thousand-Eyes as much happiness as she had given unto him. And we will not be gone for very long. I will ask my brother to look for us if we do not return by dusk.

When he returned home, the child pulled his eldest brother aside after dinner to discuss the matter with him. His eldest brother, who was normally a brash, loud creature, regarded the child for the first time with worry.

His eldest brother frowned, his blue eyes seeming to pierce through the child. You’d best stay down here where it’s safe. The angels will hunt and eat you alive, child. It is much too soon after the war.

But it’s only once! begged the child, his dark, shadowy flesh beginning to writhe around his horns. I only ask that you look for us if we are not back by dusk, brother.

I cannot allow you to do so.

Even if I bring you back a silver coin? The child did his best to flatten his writhing shadows of flesh as much as possible, quieting the verdant flame within. Even if I pay you in as much human silver as I can?

* * *

The next day, right after school hours had finished, the child took Thousand-Eyes through the portal and to the surface, where the humans dwelled. She blinked her many eyes in the sunlight, for demons are not used to the brightness -- and then she gazed at the scene around her with awe. The child could not help but smile at the exultation that had made itself clear on his dear friend’s visage. Thousand-Eyes began to run down the field of wildflowers, nearly tumbling down the hill as she did so, and stopped at a particularly colorful patch of flora. The child chased after her.

How wonderful! she cried, taking one of them into her hands. She held it out to the child with glee. Oh, everything is just as beautiful as I had ever imagined! What might this be, do you think?

The child brought it up to his snout and sniffed it. It’s sweet, so it must be honeysuckle, he said. I believe it is safe to --

Before the child could stop her, Thousand-Eyes plucked it from his claws and tossed it into her mouth, chewing it once before swallowing. Her eyes lit up with delight, much to the child’s surprise. She began to reach for another, but the child stopped her with a clawed hand. Thousand-Eyes watched the child as he took  another delicately with his claws, brought it to his maw, and drank the nectar. Thousand-Eyes looked upon the act with wonder, and then she copied it. Once more, her expression showed nothing but joy.

And so they spent the day playing in the fields of the human world, tumbling down the grassy hills, and frolicking in the forest. They played games of tag, knitted together flower crowns, and thought of all sorts of games they could play in the future, for they had only so much time now. Despite his brother’s warnings to only visit the human world once, the child found himself longing for such moments with Thousand-Eyes. He mulled over the idea as he lay on the soft earth, and Thousand-Eyes blinked her many eyes at him, as if to ask him what was the matter. A crown of honeysuckle graced her head, the soft white petals pressing against four or five of her eyes.

If he had not known any better, he would have believed her to be a princess.

We will come here again, he said simply, and the child left it at that.

* * *

And so they did. Thousand-Eyes and the child visited a great many places in the human realm, as they were at the mercy of the portal, and they saw a great deal of many wondrous things. They frolicked in a castle long abandoned to the woods one day, frolicking among the overgrown walls and crumbling stone. The child chased Thousand-Eyes on all four of his paws, playing tag. They explored a cavern of a cathedral in the daylight, dashing and hiding behind pillars when they believed they sensed a human. They played games along the edge of a mountain spring, drinking deeply of its bounty. The wretched child stole and returned his eldest brother’s silver coins again and again, for his brother never remembered which coins were which, and then he went to waste away his afternoons with his dear friend.

They say I am a seer, said Thousand-Eyes one day, her fingers trailing the edge of a worn stone wall. Mother says I should be careful, really, but what’s the fun in that? I’m quite sure that no one would dare harm me, as is.

And why is that? The child loped after her in the forgotten temple, his eyes drawing themselves over the carved figures. He felt only the slightest pang of vexation at that. At being wanted. Surely it would do you good to have some sense of danger.

Thousand-Eyes only turned to the wretched child, her smile rivaling the sun beams that streamed down from above. The child could only look upon Thousand-Eyes, entranced as he was, and Thousand-Eyes plucked a flower from the wall. She placed it among the writhing shadows of his skull, smoothing them down as she did so, and cradled the side of his snout for a moment. Then she plucked a flower for herself and placed it in her own hair, matching him.

Well, I have you, do I not?

And just like that, the vexation he had felt had all but vanished.

* * *

The day of her two-hundredth birthday -- perhaps six or seven in human years -- came. The child wrapped her present gingerly within the honeysuckle-printed paper, tied it tight with a ribbon, and set off to the portal once more. He would be late, he knew, but surely she would not be angry once she saw the wonderful present he had prepared for her. A moment, and the portal opened up before his hunched body. Another moment, and he stepped through the portal, his feet meeting cobblestone on the other side. The sunlight blinded him for the span of a second, and he blinked away the harsh brightness.

He was in a city, strangely enough. No matter. Thousand-Eyes would be only some short distance from the portal, he was sure, and so he loped off to search for her in the alleyways and nooks of the human city. Her present was tucked gently within one clawed hand, and he made a note to do as much as he could not to damage her birthday present before he could give it to her.

Minutes passed, and he could not find her. He began to worry.

An hour passed, and he could not find her. He began to grow desperate.

The sky darkened, the sunset peeking out before the horizon, and he could not find her. The child became frantic, bounding through the city as he searched for Thousand-Eyes. Perhaps she had not come today. Perhaps her mother had instead kept a closer watch on her and she had simply been kept home, celebrating her birthday quite nicely with cakes of honey and roasted hazelnuts and all sorts of good things. Perhaps he was only worried for nothing, and he and Thousand-Eyes would laugh about it later over a game of chase.

Yet he could not bring himself to believe it. The child searched, and searched, and searched for hours on end, and soon it was dark.

And soon he found her. An angel with wings of alabaster and burning flesh released her, and the lifeless body that was once Thousand-Eyes crumpled to the ground. Her many eyelids wept blackened blood. Three other figures laughed with merriment as he did so, one of them clutching a bag that dripped with black ichor. Her ichor.

What luck we have! declared the angel with burning flesh. He took the sack from one of the figures and presented their bounty to them once more, for they could not believe their fortune. Surely we have been blessed this day.

Yes, agreed the figure beside him. To think we would have stumbled upon such a rare beast!

And such an easy quarry, too, added another.

His father had told him, once, that he was nothing more than a monster borne from his hatred and wrath. That he would never be anything more of a reminder of his disgrace and exile in that damned, dark place. His father had told him that he was a terrible, horrid, dangerous thing, and that it was only by his brothers’ grace that he had been let outside of the confines of the house. Perhaps if he tried just a bit harder, he would look just like the rest of his brothers. His father told him a great many painful things, you see, but it was only now he truly felt the flames of wrath. It was only now that his horns ignited with hellfire, his eyes blazing in the darkness, and his teeth grew into something truly worthy of a beast. It was only now that his claws became long and sharp, preparing themselves for the slaughter. It was only now that true, unbridled wrath burned like fire in his heart, consuming him from within. 

And so the wretched child stepped out from the shadows.

* * *

The cobblestones drank the divine blood, the cerulean liquid soaking slowly into the street. The wretched child sobbed quietly into the lifeless body of his dear friend, crumpled on the ground. His eldest brother arrived some time later, took the wretched child by the hand, gathered the lifeless body, and carried them both home.

The funeral was a quiet one. The wretched child watched the procession from some distance away, as Thousand-Eyes’ distraught mother would not allow such a monster to attend. The wretched child’s father stood before him afterwards, both his disgust and his disappointment shrouding his visage more than the everlasting darkness ever would. The wretched child knew this, despite not daring to look into his eyes.

What do you have to say for yourself? asked his father, who was truly very cross. They stood in the shadows of his study. The wretched child only stared down at his clawed hands.

For a long moment, he did not dare to speak. He did not dare to breathe. When he finally spoke, it was with the grief of what his own actions had wrought, his throat heavy with sobs.

Her name was Thousand-Eyes, said the wretched child, and she was my friend.

[smarmaladey]

The Bad Touch - (2/3)

Chapter 2 - “nothin’ but mammals”

Rating: 🇪

Fandom: Jojo’s Bizzare Adventure

Relationships:  🐞♡🚺

Words: 4260

Ao3 Link Prev.

(For content warnings and additional notes, click read more)

Things get worse for our “lovely” heroine. 

cw: rape/non-con elements, AU (probably), ooc (probably), break-ins(?)

Enjoy!!

♡🐞♡

Monday.

7:00 AM.

The second incident.

♡🐞♡

If there was one word you'd never use to describe yourself, it'd be "independent".

In other words, you weren't a leader, you were always a follower. You simply took jobs from people, didn't question anything, and always did them the best you could. And you liked it that way.

This always seemed like the best option, as you were, admittedly, not a thinker, so your mentality was always this: do what the higher-ups say and nothing shall go wrong.

Of course, that little philosophy of yours was tested once you woke up to a certain phone call.

A phone call from a voice you couldn't recognize at all, notifying you that you left a couple of your belongings at Giovanna's estate. The man had told you to wait, wait at your home until they could arrive and, as he put it, “smooth things out”.

Like hell I’m going to do that.

While you didn’t think Giovanna was screwed up enough to, say, stick the assassination squad on you for rejecting his advances, perhaps rejecting his advances, destroying his property, referring to him by his first name, and walking out before you were dismissed, all in the span of around 50 seconds could, at the very least, spell a bit of trouble.  

So, you devised a simple little plan, all on your own.

Sneak into the estate. (Easy)

Grab your jacket and folder, and check for stains. (Also easy. Probably)

Leave without being seen by anyone. (Less easy)

Sleep, and/or change your name and move away, depending on the aftermath. (Preferably to the west of America, or anywhere outside of Europe. Not so easy)

You never imagined going back to that place the day after the whole fiasco, but it really was your only choice.

Sneaking into the building would be a piece of cake, being that your entire profession, as well as your ability, Black Hole Sun, was centered around avoiding all kinds of surveillance.

Black Hole Sun, put in the simplest way, allowed you to turn “light” into “weight”. It manifested as a cluster of pitch-black flowers and mushrooms that could sprout anywhere in a 15-20 meter radius, absorbing any light that reached them. This was ideal for creating shadows, blending into said shadows, or turning any light source into a means of vacuum-based destruction. Hell, if given the chance, you could collapse any building from the roof down, given it was daytime.

Of course, collapsing Giovanna’s home would probably be like destroying 1000 expensive lamps at once, but that’s neither here nor there, you know?

By the time you had reached the wide expanse of his property, there were only a scarce amount of people standing around. A few figures were leaving the building, but none seemed to be entering at all.

While threading between the trees around the building, you racked your brain trying to figure out where your belongings could have been. There was a decent chance they were still in his office, but you didn’t want to risk A, walking in on a possible meeting/debriefing, or B, accidentally getting caught by him, so you passed on visiting that room.

Problem was, that was the only room you knew the exact location of.

In the end, you didn’t come up with an exact idea of where your stuff could be, so instead, you decided that you’d simply check every square foot of the building. You ended up at the very back of the building, and while the expansive garden in the back was gorgeous, it didn’t exactly have good hiding spots.

You ended up prying open the largest window you saw, and carefully stepping in onto the floor as carefully as you could. As you looked around, you allowed B • H • S to dissipate, letting color fade back into your silhouette.

The room you ended up in seemed to be some kind of sunroom, the window you climbed in from giving a perfect view of the garden, as well as casting gorgeous light onto the decorated interior.

The walls to your sides were, not unlike Giovanna’s office, lined with bookshelves, this time not hyper-organized. Houseplants of different colors bloomed in multiple different places, and right next to the door was a cushioned red armchair and ottoman.

And here I was thinking he had no sense of interior decor.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t help but get distracted by the overall pleasantness of the room. Unlike the office, the temperature was nice and cool, not absolutely Siberian, and the sunlight felt nice on your flesh. Using that “every square foot” line from earlier as an excuse, you started examining the books on the shelves.

You shuffled down the row on your tiptoes, slowly, still trying to be as quiet as you could. A good chunk of the choices of literature displayed were rather surprising, you taking special note of a few books in English, and some in Japanese, both languages you didn’t realize he was familiar with. The titles you could understand were also interesting-- a lot of stuff about the supernatural, especially as you got near the end of the shelves.

Stowing away your folder in these shelves would probably be a smart move…

“Has something caught your eye?”

You bumped into something warm, stopping you right in your tracks.

Holy fuck.

The sight made your heart freeze, taking near all energy from your legs and causing you to plummet onto the floor.

“If you want to borrow any of them, feel free to ask. Do you know much English?” Giovanna, looking as prime as ever, asked. He was clearly feigning innocence, leaning over you with a glint in his eye.

To you, he looked 10 meters tall.

With your brain short-circuiting, you would've spat out incoherent babbling if you chose to speak at that moment. Fortunately, you took a second to come up with a rebuttal, putting on the fakest expression you could muster.

"Oh, here and there, y'know? Not anything very...advanced...but…"

You forced a laugh and he smiled at you, lips even glossier and more vibrant than yesterday.

He offered to help you up with a simple gesture, but with the grace of a crippled swan, you rose to your feet and backed away.

To your dismay, it only prodded him to get closer.

"So, what brought you here this morning? I don’t exactly remember inviting you." He was still staring down at you, enraging the deepest, most insecure part of your brain because he's fucking younger than me why is he so much taller-

"Uhm," you swallowed a thick clot of saliva in your throat. "I...just wanted to admire your...interior decorating…"

Shittiest excuse I've ever come up with in my life.

Giovanna stepped closer with his left, you stepped back with your right. "Is that so…? Are you sure it wasn't for...this?"

From behind his back, as if it came out of thin air, he pulled out your peacoat and held it out to you. You stifled a gasp, and reflexively reached out to take it, but at the last second he pulled it back again.

“Ah, what do we say now?” He teased, as if you were a child, smiling.

You couldn’t help but smile back at him, rolling your eyes. “Grazie, Giorn--” midway through saying his first name, you stopped and slapped your hand over your mouth. “Shi- Er, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to…”

His expression dropped for a split-second before he started laughing, putting you off a tad. “That’s so adorable...!”  

That last word made your cheeks flush, replaying memories from the previous afternoon that drove you to step away from him. “...Right. Ahem, could I please have my coat back now?”

“Oh, certainly.” Relief.

 “But…” Oh.

The tension in the room felt like it got darker, as he raised the black garment closer to his face. “...I have a couple suspicions of my own…”

He stepped closer with his right, you stepped back with your left. “This morning, I went out of my way to get in contact with my most trusted men, so I could return your things to you safely...then, they tell me you’ve hung up on them!”

It felt cold.

“And when they get to your home, you’re nowhere to be found!”

What?

You weren’t given any time to unpack that, as he continued to go off. “Now you’re here! Without even letting me know, too...” He frowned a bit, but perked up soon enough. “But that’s alright! Because I knew you’d come back to me.”

“Huh…” All thoughts came out as a single hiccup. “What...I don’t…”

He appeared to grow a little angry, but more distraught than anything. “Bella!” he cried, knuckles white and arms trembling. “Didn’t I tell you not to act like that with me? Don’t pretend that you can’t remember what happened yesterday…”

The worst thing was, he was 100 percent right. You were pretending that you forgot what went down, when it was, unsurprisingly, on your mind since it happened. You were feigning (well, attempting to feign) innocence, hoping that it wouldn’t lead to another nightmare.

“But…” Giovanna sighed, switching moods too quickly for your liking. “That doesn’t matter anyways!” His smile was disgustingly, unbearably cute. “Because you came back to me! I knew you would!”

A chill went down your spine, prompting you to step back twice. “I, uh, think you’ve got the wrong idea--” You were cut off by him approaching again, holding his hand right in front of your face.

“See?”

What the hell is he talking about?

“I cut my nails for you last night…” He looked over his own, now shortened and even rounder, snow-white nails, “it must’ve been a bit painful when I touched you, I’m sorry about that…”

You didn’t appreciate his “apology” one bit, instead deciding to take another step back, frantically searching for the window so you could pull off an escape before it was too late. You felt the lukewarm glass on the tips of your fingers, but Giovanna stepped a bit too close for your liking, causing you to shift to the other side, eventually turning around entirely as he refused to back off.

Now the two of you had rotated, with him backing you back into the room, towards the door. The light shining from the back window bounced off the satin material of his clothing and golden accents, glaring into your eyes.

The reflexive need to close your eyes outweighed rational thought, and as soon as you blinked them shut your calves bumped against something, causing you to trip backwards and fall onto the (remarkably comfortable) red chair.

Once more, you were flattened before him, staring up with no idea of what was going to go down.

Well, you had a vague idea.

The golden boy had already made sure you couldn’t get away by just getting up, as he was standing over you in between the ottoman and the chair, one foot on the floor and the other resting right next to yours. You had caught him glancing at the light switch right by the door, making sure it was off.

Without a light source in the room, you had no good method of getting away, and collapsing the window at the other side would be useless if you couldn't even get to it.

Cornered, you dug your nails into the arms of the chair, glaring at him while pushing your head back into the cushion.

The look in his green eyes was strange, a disturbing mix of innocence and lust that made the lower half of your body feel restless. A few seconds of silent eye contact passed, before he reached down and grabbed your wrist.

You attempted to tug it away as he held it up, only to be met with a cold glare. His grip tightened before he transferred it to G • E, reaching down and doing the same to your other hand.

Straightening himself, he flipped his long braid over his shoulder. You watched as he worked off the lowest hair tie, letting the loop at the end fall loose. He stretched out the transparent band and wrapped it around both of your wrists, before tapping it again with his middle three fingers.

You felt your thin binding shift between tight and loose as it swelled and turned green. The hair tie had changed into a tight coil of stems and vines, covered in thin bristles.

When you tried to struggle, to break the botanical bindings, the bristles irritated your skin. He noticed, and pushed your hands above your head.

"Please, it's useless to try and get away from me now. I don't want you to be in pain, you know?" He punctuated his sentence with a gentle caress of your face with the back of his hand, and a peck to the tip of your nose.

He rose up and moved behind the ottoman, all while sliding his warm hand across the skin of your legs. After subtlety clearing his throat, he tried, (keyword, tried) to dip his hand between your thighs, only for you to squeeze them shut in a futile attempt to preserve your dignity.

You heard him quietly cough again, while he squeezed and then gently patted the plush flesh, as if telling you to open up. Still, you didn't give in.

His skin felt so hot against yours, like there was near boiling water flowing through his veins. Giovanna gave up trying to pry open your legs, instead pushing the ottoman right up to the chair, moving in front of it, and pulling you a smidge closer so that you were laying flat on your back.

He started by grabbing the bottom of your thighs, lifting them up then pushing back the bottom of your knees, so both legs were relatively straight, pointing up to the ceiling. G • E took hold of both ankles, keeping your limbs still.

“Wait…” You croaked out as you felt him hook his fingers into the waistbands of your bottoms. “Wha--what are you doing, Gior--” fuck.

He stopped what he was doing to look at you, and scoffed. "You're kidding, right?" Lowering your legs a bit, his lips curled into a cute little smile. "Oh, cara, you know I have much bigger things to worry about than what you call me." He leant down to hold your face in both of his hands. "Besides, we should be on a first name basis now, no?"

One part of your brain was absolutely enraged at the fact that you were still concerned about something as dumb as that, yet it still felt like a lingering weight had been lifted from your chest.

Giorno clearly didn’t like the fact that you were avoiding his eyes, and his solution was to squeeze your face a little tighter and kiss you with no warning, not hesitating to shove his tongue in your mouth.

He pulled away after you whined, drinking in the intoxicating sight of you with your lips ajar, face obviously heated, and your eyes glossy. It confused him a little, everything about your appearance, your body was telling him that you craved this just as much as (or even more than!) he did, yet everything that came out of your mouth was a contradiction!

But he didn’t let that frustrate him too much, as he knew you’d eventually give in completely. All he had to do was get the mood right. Because that’s just how it worked. Right? Right.

Lifting himself off of you, he let out a small sigh while raising your legs again, continuing whatever he had planned in that unholy little brain of his. His fingers returned to the waistband of your pants, digging between both layers of fabric and painstakingly beginning to hoist them off.

The feeling of your underwear peeling off of your crotch was already humiliating, but you knew it was just the beginning.

He let go of your clothes when they were around your ankles, before lowering himself down to “your” level.

"N-no...don't~ ♡ ! " your throat was so clammed up that your voice sounded like a broken squeaker toy, but even if you tried to shout, you knew he wouldn't listen. It was too late, anyway, since now he’s already seen everything you’d previously tried to hide. (Physically, at least.)

After a few seconds of him (presumably) leering at your privates, you felt his touch on the plump, slippy flesh, before he slid two fingers into the cleft and parted it.

"Oh, look~♡" each limb began to quiver at his honeyed, sickly voice. "It's so cute and pink here…"

Out of pure mortification, you brought your hands down and shoved two of your fingers in your maw, biting down. "No! N...not there...don't look at it…♡" Your voice and words sounded callow, but your brain was too fried to mask your true thoughts.

His hands moved to your thighs, right before he placed a pert kiss to the very center of your vulva.

Oh, lord. You could feel the mark his lipgloss left.

Despite yourself, there was a growing pressure in your gut that had you, deep, deep down, craving more. Something wet and hot swept against your inner labia, instantly making your fingers curl into fists. You pressed your knuckles against your teeth, trying to suppress a inadvertent whine.

“You can let your voice out,” you heard him say after pulling away for a second, “I doubt anybody is going to come around here.” Wow, how reassuring! Thanks for telling me, asshole! Ignoring the pain from the bristles, you moved your hands to your eyes, desperately trying to cover them. To an outsider, it’d probably look like you were attempting to gouge them out.

The wet noises that came from him lapping at you bouncing off the walls, almost amplified, taunted you. Additionally, he’d sometimes let out soft little groans of his own, which vibrated the very surface of your flesh. It was needless to say that his tongue felt a lot more invasive than his fingers, (and unfortunately, it also felt better) feeling it probe inside the most intimate part of your body drew ever-loudening wails and whimpers from your stuffy throat.

You could tell his mouth was somehow even warmer than his external skin, even inside of your already warm internals it felt nearly sweltering. Occasionally, he’d pull back for a very quick second to sigh out your name or other 1-word comments, his voice getting more brittle each time.

Something you also picked up on was very, very, subtle swallowing, as if he was drinking the mix of his saliva and your fluids.

That pressure in your gut kept pulsing, falsely building up in a way that could only be described as the physical-pleasure equivalent of a Shepard tone. In desperation, or maybe protest, you wiggled your hips, which only seemed to tempt him to grow more intense.

Your cynical side kept trying to tell you to give up, to accept this and whatever was coming next, to submit to the inevitable. It seemed that you unwittingly listened to it, relaxing your limbs and giving up on trying to muffle your voice.

In the midst of the ever-growing haze, you felt him pull away and move his hand up your thigh. He pushed his thumb between your legs, again silently asking you to open up. This time though, you obliged and spread your thighs, all while trying to press the side of your head onto the cushion, in a vain attempt to “hide”.

He gave no warning, no words before moving up and swathing your engorged clit in his idyllic lips, and that was really where things on your end began to topple.

Near instantaneously, you curled upward, letting out a strained squeal, feeling tears prick in your eyes. You covered your face with your hands, regretting every decision leading up to this point.

Too bad your body wasn’t regretting anything.

"Suh..top...♡ I’ll...I’m gonna…”

You peeked down through your hands and caught him glancing up at you, which just made your body retort in embarrassment again. In a thoughtless moment, you tried putting your hands against his silky, loosening hair, the bindings preventing you from grabbing it comfortably.

As he put more pressure on your tender pearl, your steady stream of tears reached the bottom of your head, dripping down and soaking into the seat. You couldn’t help but tighten your legs around him, at this point, all you craved was sweet, glorious release.

One more stroke of your nub, and it all crash-landed. That ever-growing pressure in your belly burst and spread, making you let out a long, high-pitched wail as your body went limp underneath him. Tears veiled your sight, directed at the ceiling.

Giorno pulled away, panting, before wiping his mouth with his sleeve and moving up the chair, so he could hover above you once more. His long, loose plait hung down and rested on your shoulder, giving you a very faint tickle.

“...was that...good?” You didn’t respond to him, as your mind was flooded with a swarm of fatigue and dopamine, “I...I apologize, I’m still very...new to this…” yet that part was enough to snap you out of your post-orgasm muddle.

“New”?

Fuck’s that supposed to mean?

Don’t tell me he’s…

No, that can’t be right…

“It can’t…” Those two words accidentally slipped out, but they were barely intelligible. Your blondie boss (bloss?) didn’t seem to notice, as he was too busy smiling at how cute you looked, all spent, drooling, and tearing up underneath him.

He straightened up a bit, your legs still wrapped around his hips, tittering. “You’re adorable, you know that?” He got no response. “Ah...I love you. You know that, right?” No response.

That didn’t seem to bother him, as his smile stayed. After a few tense seconds, you turned your head and looked up at him, and his grin seemed to widen.

“Cute...hm, I still don’t understand why you insisted on stopping your voice, I, personally, love the way it sounds.” He still wasn’t eliciting a vocal response, instead you dropped your head to the other side. Your continued silence finally looked like it was beginning to phase him, so he reached down and lifted your face a bit.

He tried to kiss you, but missed and got the very side of your mouth. You were once more reminded about how hot (literally...but also figuratively) he was, his face burning with pink and his breath near visible in the cool room.

Losing some of his control, he kept his mouth on you, his actions devolving into repeatedly pecking at your cheek while groaning “compliments”. Eventually, he straightened up again, eyes filled with something that could possibly be described as “love”.

“Well, I don’t see the point of going upstairs, why don’t we move on?” He asked, fruitlessly, before sitting up to work at his pants button. Unbeknownst to him, you watched him do this, part scared, part intrigued, but mostly weary.

He was about to tug down his suit pants the moment before a sudden, firm knock at the door echoed through the room.

“Shit.”   You heard him growl, before you made eye contact with each other, for a very quick moment. In a slight panic, Giorno tried to compose himself, glancing at you again before carefully separating from you.

“Hello?” Came an unfamiliar male voice, from the other side of the door. “Don Giovanna, are you there?” You perked up when you heard him say your name, “...that woman, we’ve looked around her neighborhood and have had no luck finding her, Sir.”

“Oh, is that so…” He was cautious, trying his best to make sure you wouldn’t leave, but to his dismay, you saw an opportunity and took it.

When he had moved out of your direct line of vision, he had let the ever-growing noon sunlight reach you, specifically, your hands. With that in mind, you manifested B • H • S on the vines, causing them to become etiolated, therefore loose, and allowing you to slip them off without fuss.

During a clearly awkward, through-a-door conversation between your boss and a random lackey, you rolled off the chair and sorted out your jumbled clothing. To get it out of the way, you shattered the window across the room. You heard Giorno’s voice go higher when he heard this, but unlike the day before, you said nothing to him, no apologies or anything before rushing to freedom.

Adrenaline was gushing through your veins, so with 0 restraint, after swiping your coat from the floor, you dashed forward, broke what remained of the window and leapt outside.

But, to one’s surprise, you didn’t go home that day. Instead, you remained at that estate, because you had to get to the bottom of something.

You had questions. Specifically: Why? What? Who? How? Me? You? And those questions needed answers. So, instead of retreating, or, say, escaping, you scoured the building for a very specific room.

Because I’m gonna get those answers, no matter what.

Was this a likely horrible decision that you would probably end up regretting and cursing yourself for making? Yes.

Was this likely going to end badly? Yes.

Would this, almost definitely, give you the explanation you longed for? Also yes.

It’s going to be a long, long evening.

♡🐞♡

n: god, whenever i copy stuff over, i have to go through it and re-italicize everything.  maybe there’s an easier way of doing this? btw, i finished a couple of my blog’s pages, so i’d say its no longer wip :D

PS: the last chapter is already 8638 words, and i’m not even done. god have mewcy on my souw. 

[aion-rsa]

How Ginger Snaps Explored the Subversive Horror of Womanhood

https://ift.tt/30jSLcc

In 2000 Mission: Impossible 2 topped the box office, Gladiator triumphed at the Oscars, and the first X-Men movie ushered in a new era of superhero movies. Meanwhile in Canada, while no one was watching, a new hero was emerging. Her name was Ginger, she was a 16-year-old girl, and ok, she might have turned into a monster and killed a few people but, wow, was she a ferocious figurehead for females everywhere. 

“That’s what she’s about. She’s about fuck you, fuck the patriarchy, fuck the standard, fuck society, fuck the norm. And to me, that’s a hero,” says Katharine Isabelle, speaking with Den of Geek via Zoom from her home in Vancouver, 20 years after the film’s debut. Isabelle was just 17 when she stepped into Ginger’s very cool boots and she had no idea it would become a massive cult hit.

“When it first came out, no one fucking watched it. It did well with some critics at a few festivals, but no one cared. No one went to see it,” she recalls. “It wasn’t until it hit the VHS circuit in small town Canada that people were like, ‘Oh, Ginger!.’ Emily [Perkins, who plays Ginger’s sister Brigitte] and I thought we’d be the only people that liked it because we were weird and dark. We had no idea that through the generations it would continue to have an effect on people.”

Watching 20 years on and Ginger Snaps absolutely holds up. More than that, in fact, it looks positively progressive and even transgressive in a year where we were onto our third Scream, our second Urban Legend, and our first Final Destination. Glossy teen slashers were the thing, which didn’t often make for great parts. 

Read more

Movies

The Final Destination Movies, Ranked

By Sarah Dobbs

Movies

Scream: Ranking the Movies in Order of Quality

By Sarah Dobbs

“In the ’90s, as a 17-year-old girl it was ‘be hot, get murdered’,” says Isabelle. “There weren’t a lot of really interesting characters coming out of that, especially in my small Vancouver, Canada acting world. So to see this and be like, ‘Holy shit, this really speaks to me, I am this dark, insecure, troubled, deep, dark humored girl who feels outcast and misunderstood by everybody,’ I was just like, ‘Yes. 100%.’”

Written by Karen Walton who would go on to write for Queer as Folk and Orphan Black, and directed by John Fawcett (one of Orphan Black’s co-creators), Ginger Snaps was a fresh take on the werewolf subgenre and a brand new slant on teen horror. This was about girls for a start – sisters Ginger and Brigitte who are weird outsiders fascinated with death. Though there’s sex in the movie it’s really a love story between the two females while the only male character who we have any sympathy for is a drug dealer who has no sexual interest in either. There are dog maulings along the way, and as we head towards the climax with Ginger becoming more and more monstrous, there’s plenty of gore.

But the most scandalous splash of blood is Ginger’s own first period.

Period piece

“You never see that. The visual of bloody panties is so shocking,” says Isabelle. 

“It’s what, 2020 and we’re just seeing feminine hygiene products using red dye instead of this fucking blue shit? We’re always so mortified by this human experience that half of the people on the planet go through. And you know what? At the same time you should be, because being female is a fairly horrific fucking experience in itself. So guess what? Why don’t you fucking look at it once in a while? For it to be labeled as shocking is just so boring to me.”

It would be bold even in 2020. That color matching company Pantone only last month released a new shade of red inspired by periods as part of a campaign to end menstruation stigma shows it very much still exists. So to be this open in discussing it in 2000 in a horror movie – traditionally assumed to be the playground of young men – was a brave move.

“I remember a friend of mine, his older brother had taken his friends to see it and he was like, [Isabelle does impression of bro-tastic young man] ‘Oh yeah, we were all screaming and throwing shit at the fucking screen and then we walked out. All this fucking women shit.’ I was like, ‘Cool. Thanks, buddy. Awesome.’ Fuck you! They thought they were going to see hot girl tits and werewolf stuff and they weren’t prepared for an actual look into what the female experience is like. And they couldn’t handle it. Pussies.”

Suddenly it’s like I’m talking to wolf-Ginger, fierce, articulate, full of fire, the Ginger that punches the mean girl in the face for hurting her sister, the Ginger that isn’t going to stand for any of your shit any longer, the Ginger that could tear the flesh from your bones if she wanted to. 

The metaphor of werewolf transformation and puberty is a no brainer to Isabelle.

Read more

Movies

13 Must-See Werewolf Movies

By Mike Cecchini

Movies

An American Werewolf in London Is Still the Best Horror Reimagining

By David Crow

“You’re going along your life perfectly fine, something happens to you, boom. In one day, you have all these strange urges, you have all these weird thoughts. Your body is completely abandoning you and morphing into something else that you are not comfortable with,” she says. “It’s a complete betrayal of everything you know and how you feel. And it creates this monster in you that you have to reckon with and deal with. It’s a brilliant allegory.”

Ginger Snaps is body horror. It’s a movie about a woman’s own body destroying her from the inside out. Before she knows what’s really going on Ginger is bleeding, weak, crippled with cramps. Weird hair starts sprouting – a shaving scene really hammers home the horror of teenagers taking razors to their legs.

But with this pain comes power. Ginger is suddenly confident, beautiful, strong, the boys at the school all desire her and she knows it. She will take who she wants and do what she wants – there’s some serious wish fulfillment going on at the same time as the trauma of her transformation.

Being Ginger

It’s not really surprising that Isabelle is so like this iconic character. She says she had an immediate affinity to Ginger – both sides of Ginger, the troubled outsider as well as the she-wolf.

“At that time, I wasn’t a good enough actor to have acted it. I just had to be myself,” she laughs, “They showed a pieced-together trailer halfway through to the cast and crew and I had a complete panic attack. It was my first panic attack, and I was like, ‘I’m fucking this up.’ This is the best character in the best movie and I clearly have no idea what I’m doing. I’m obviously the worst, this is terrible. I’m ruining this, I should just die. So all of the insecurity and the manicness…”

This just in: it’s shit being a teenage girl. Even more so when you’re 17, on location without your mother for the first time and working 18 hour days. 

“I nearly fucking died!” she says. “Towards the end, it’s like a seven hour prosthetic piece when I’m full blown werewolf. I was living off of Oreos, McCain Deep Delicious Chocolate Cake, cigarettes, and Coca Cola. It was not good. And honestly, I wasn’t a good actor. So everything in that was just me being manic and sleep deprived and upset and insecure.”

Whatever was driving it Isabelle is excellent, flitting from difficult outsider with an undercurrent of fury to a whirlwind of teenage angst, sex, hunger, and violence that feels absolutely authentic.

Becoming the wolf

The effects are practical rather than CGI, which helps Ginger Snaps not to look dated on a rewatch. Ginger transforms gradually from woman to full blown wolf over days – she’s not a traditional werewolf who only becomes a wolf during the night of a full moon, instead once she turns fully she’s not coming back. Her different looks in the movie are cool and iconic – unsurprisingly Ginger Snaps cosplay is a ‘thing’ – which pleases Isabelle. The prosthetics procedure was somewhat less pleasing, however.

“I didn’t understand what the process was,” she says. “You see it in your head like you do when you read a book or whatever, or how the movie is going to be. You don’t think of the six hours on top of your 18 hour shooting day that you’re going to be inhaling alcohol-based paint until you’re high out of your fucking mind.”

The transformation came with other obstacles too.

“The process of losing my senses was a first for me. By the time I’m in the very late stage werewolf with the hair, the contacts and the claws, I can’t see anything, I can’t hear anything, I can��t smell anything, I can’t talk. I have fangs. I had to ADR most of the movie when I have fangs in. Because I had a lisp, so I’d be like, ‘Ask Tham. He’th the exthpert.’” She says, mimicking a line from the movie. 

Read more

TV

Creepshow Animated Halloween Special Coming to Shudder in October

By Alec Bojalad

TV

Netflix Unveils Netflix and Chills Horror Lineup

By Alec Bojalad

“It’s just terrible. I couldn’t touch anything and there is blood all over me, and it’s drying and I was trapped in my own body nightmare. You don’t really realize that when you go into it. So now when I read scripts, ever since then, I’m very like, ‘What does that exactly mean for the physical torture I will be experiencing through the duration of this?’ Let’s take a step back and just really look at this more closely,” she laughs. 

Pain and gain

Isabelle is funny – like Ginger, she has a dark sense of humor and though we genuinely get the sense that the shoot was traumatic (“We were all fucking ill and we were shooting nights for about three weeks in a row, so you do not see daylight. You lose your mind. It wasn’t quite Apocalypse Now, but it felt like that to me when I was 17.”), she’s got great stories. Like the time she gave herself a concussion… 

“There’s a scene where I slam my head on a desk and I was like, ‘Ginger probably really slammed her head on the desk.’ So I really did it a bunch of times and then woke up the next day with a fucking full on concussion headache. They had a doctor come in because I was fucked. He gave me Tylenol T3s and I took them on an empty stomach. I’m vomiting on set and they’re holding the roll, and I’ve got a bucket I’m puking into. And then immediately I had to do the slow motion walk down the hall scene. I was so fucked they had to put tape on the floor. I couldn’t walk in a straight line. I’m so mad every time I see that. I’m like ‘Fuck, you only get so many slow motion walking down the hallway looking cool and hot in your whole career, and you really fucked this one.’” 

Read more

Movies

Best Horror Movies to Watch on Shudder Right Now

By Rosie Fletcher and 1 other

Movies

Best Horror Movies on Hulu

By Alec Bojalad and 1 other

Of course, it doesn’t play that way on screen. It’s a key moment in the movie and even 20 years on, Ginger’s look still stands out. Costume designer Lea Carlson put together her outfits from thrift stores to create a kind of indie/goth cool with spot on accessories for an aesthetic that matched Ginger’s newly awakened give-no-fucks vibe.

“When that infection hits and she’s got that fucking attitude, it’s like, don’t we all wish we could just walk around with that attitude like a hero?” says Isabelle.

She says she can watch the movie now and enjoy it, though she couldn’t for a while.

”I haven’t seen it in 15 years because I tend to not revisit my most awkward moments on film as a teenager,” she laughs. But she now speaks fondly of this “wonderful sisterly love story.” 

Ginger and B

She and co-star Perkins had known each other “forever” before filming began, having even been born in the same hospital and gone to the same elementary school so they auditioned for Ginger Snaps together. Perkins as the younger Brigitte (even though Isabelle is actually four years younger than Perkins) is sympathetic, awkward, vulnerable, and eventually heroic and there’s an obvious chemistry between the two. Isabelle recalls how between one of the auditions and the first time director John Fawcett came out to meet them Emily had shaved her head.

”I was like, ‘What are you doing? You’ve fucked this for us!’, I didn’t even recognize her in the room. And then thank God, we got the part. And that’s why she’s wearing this wig, this very offensive wig throughout the film…”

Why did she shave her head during casting for this movie? We can’t not ask…

“I don’t know. I don’t know. She was having a moment. She’s a very smart, progressive woman, and she was feeling her oats,” Isabelle laughs.

Despite the traumas of the prosthetics and the shoot, Isabelle has clear affection for the movie and a character who rings incredibly true even 20 years later, largely because of her authentic performance  “It connects still to this day with people who weren’t even born when it came out. And that’s always shocking to me,” she says.

So what would today’s Katharine Isabelle tell her 17 year old self, 20 years ago?

“Oh, God. Fucking suck it up, you whiny bitch.” she says, all wolf-Ginger before swapping back to pre-transformation Ginger. “No, I would be like, ‘Yo, this is good, and you’re going to be okay. You’re gonna be good, and you’re not going to hate yourself as much as you think you do. And eventually, in 17 years, you’ll be able to watch this without having a total meltdown about how obviously terrible and insecure you are.”

She pauses.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

“Isn’t that what everyone says to themselves 20 years ago? ‘You’ll be okay, don’t be so insecure, believe in yourself, you got this?’ I think that’s what everyone would say to their younger self. Also, ask for more money.”

The post How Ginger Snaps Explored the Subversive Horror of Womanhood appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2ENE6yo

[plus-size-reader]

Cuddles

Shane Walsh x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1230 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Shane and his wifey relax finally after everything they’ve been through. 

———————————————————————————————————

The hot water seemed to almost burn your skin as it cascaded down your back in streams. It had been so long since you'd had an actual shower that it seemed foreign to you. The sensation seemed brand new and you couldn't get enough.

There was so much dirt and blood caked on your flesh that by the time you were finished getting cleaned off, your skin was bright red and burned as if it was raw. It hadn't been exposed to the environment in so long.

When you stepped out into the bathroom and found Shane standing there looking in the mirror, you realized he felt the same sort of relief. It was nice to know that you weren't alone in it since your skin felt foreign to you right now.

It was a feeling unlike any other and honestly, you weren't quite sure what to make of it.

You were relieved and felt clean and fresh for the first time in months. For whatever reason though, it seemed too good to be true. After all the horror and nastiness you'd experienced as of late, it didn't seem right that you could just be new and clean all of a sudden.

It was like something out of a dream.

"Feels good huh?" he chuckled, swiping a washcloth across his skin, which hadn't been this clean in a very long time. The bathroom smelled incredible, and it was filled to the brim with steam.

The vapor swirled around you both and filled your lungs with every deep breath you drew. The mirror was fogged up completely, making it impossible to see either of your reflections in the small mirror hanging above the vanity.

All that was left were a few shapes, blobs of color in the form of both your bodies. It was nothing more than outlines but it was more than you'd seen of yourself in a long time. There weren't exactly full length mirrors, like the one you had in your bathroom, around every corner.

Still, it was nice.

It was something and you'd take it.

"It feels amazing, it's insane how long it's been" you reminded, letting a sigh escape from your lips, without even meaning too. It was then that Shane realized just how close you were to him, your warm breath fanning the still damp skin of his back.

You were just standing there, a towel wrapped casually around your plump frame, admiring both of your formless blobs in some dirty glass. Even so, he could hardly focus past the sliver of skin that was exposed by the gap in your towel.

Sometimes he got so caught up in the end of the world and the whole trying not to die thing that he forgot how stunningly beautiful his wife was.

It had been so long, so long since there was anything even remotely normal in his life and it seemed too good to be true. That being said though, Shane couldn’t help himself from wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against his body.

“You smell good” he commented, running his hands through your now wet hair. His words made you laugh, though you knew what he meant.

If you were telling the truth, you smelt better than you had in quite some time so you couldn’t blame him for noticing. After a casual sniff into the flesh of his shoulder, you concluded that he also smelled really nice.

“I think that’s cause we’ve all smelled like sewage for weeks” you teased, reaching up to run your hand through his soft hair.

It really was a miracle at this point, that you were able to get cleaned off.

You couldn’t have gone for very much longer with all that grime all over you so it was a relief to have the chance. But there was one other thing that you’d been waiting to do since the world went to shit...

Rest.

You hadn’t gotten a good night sleep in months, always worried about what would come out of the woods or stalk you down as you slept. There was no relaxing, not ever but you had a chance here on the farm.

The farm gave you an option. It provided a hot meal and a bed to sleep in, and more than anything-peace of mind.

You could actually take a deep breathe for once and that was more rewarding than anything else you’d ever experienced.

“You know what?” you hummed, running your fingers from the nape of his neck all the way down his bare shoulders, messaging the muscle there lightly.

Shane hummed, wondering what you could possibly have in mind. Knowing you, it could have been anything but you definitely had something on your mind.

He would recognize that look anywhere.

“What darling?” he smirked, reaching up to grab your hand in his own. After a quick squeeze, he released it, letting his touch linger lightly on your wrist.

You smiled, thinking about all the things that you could do now that you were somewhere safe. You could shower now, as long as it wasn’t for too long, and could even take a bath if you were so inclined.

The world had finally gained some amount of normalcy and you wouldn’t trade that for anything. It was more than you could have ever hoped for.

“There is a guest room down the hall, and I think a nice, relaxing nap would do us both good” you suggested, thinking about cuddling up in nice cool sheets next to the man you loved so much.

There was no better feeling in the world.

Shane agreed.

He would have very happily just curled up next to you and never moved from your side, and had often talked about finding a nice house to just haul up in and pretend the outside world didn’t exist.

Now he had that chance, and he wasn’t going to pass it up.

“I’m sure nobody would miss us for a few hours” he allowed, laughing to himself as he wrapped a towel around his waist and headed out into the hall.

Unlike Shane, you decided to get dressed before joining him in the guest room, saving anyone else that may have been in the house from having to see that.

The room was quaint and had few charming decorations surrounding it but above all, there was a large, soft bed in the center. It was practically calling your name and you couldn’t wait to just dive right in.

And the man beside you seemed to have the same idea.

It had been so long since you'd seen a clean, fully made bed that it almost seemed like a dream. However, as soon as you plopped down on it, you understood that it was just what you'd been waiting for.

You'd been waiting for this exact thing for so long. It felt right to be resting after everything you'd been through.

Your muscles were aching and as soon as you relaxed into the mattress, your whole body felt like jello. It was like laying on a cloud, and honestly, it was the best feeling in the world.

Needless to say, it wasn't exactly a few hours. No one came to wake you two up from the guest bedroom until much later in the night when it was time for dinner.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

The Girl Who Cried Witchcraft

Everything hurt.

Well, everything always hurt, but it hurts more than usual at this very moment. Mary can barely force her eyelids open; it’s like they’re sewn together. She thinks she’s standing up, but it feels like she’s falling down. And, holy mother of God, did her neck hurt.

She thinks shock has finally worn off. She can feel every stab of pain, every pinprick is agony that needles her body. The lashes streaked across her back hurt more than usual, rubbing uncomfortably against her dirt-caked dress. Frays of fabric bite into the scabs, chafing until they break it back open and itch the interior of her flesh. Her knees are darker than a ripe eggplant in the fall and she thinks the burns on her neck are peeling again. Her feet ache from old lashings on the soles, her head is killing her, her fingernails are chipped and broken and some are missing from hard labor, cracks crusted in dark red, and blood has been dribbling out in persistent streams from her nose a little while ago- she can’t remember why. Maybe Mercy or Abigail threw a rock at her? They never did like her.... And why did her neck hurt so much? It feels like someone is pressing down on her airways, strangling her.

But it was fine! Everything was fine! She managed to survive in Salem with all of these wounds. If open injuries were going to get badly infected anywhere, it would be the unsanitary 17th-century.

But she was okay.

You see, now she’s...- well, she can’t quite remember. Her head hurts too much. So does her neck. The tightness and pressure keeps increasing and increasing and-

Geez, though, who turned on the lights? She’s barely opening her eyes and she already feels like she’s being blinded. Burning white light stabs into her retinas; how can candles or lanterns make such a glare?

And what was that sound? Was someone...washing their hands? Better yet: when did she go into a washroom? She would have noticed...

Wait, what the hell? This mirror is cleaner compared to the one in the Proctor house. It’s also hung up on the wall- who hung up their mirrors? And what were those doors in the reflection? (“Bathroom stalls,” A knowledgeable voice whispered in her mind with wisdom she didn’t know she had.) And who in the ever loving hell is that woman washing her hands next to her? And why was her hair not tied up and covered by a bonnet?!

Wait-

Mary does a double take. She inhales a sharp breath and slowly cranes her head around to look at the stranger. Her face drains of all color as the dark-skinned woman’s mouth fell agape in equal shock. They both stare at each other for a long time before Mary bolts towards the door. She stumbles into an unfamiliar hallway (no buildings had hallways like this!!) with even more unfamiliar people. They seem to recognize her as an unknown alien to this place and turned to stare. It didn’t help that she was breathing heavily and looked like she was in serious need of a hospital.

She took two steps back, only to get herself into a wall. She narrowly dodges someone coming at her and- was there a pitchfork or sickle around here she could use? (“No,” Said the voice, “You aren’t there anymore.”)

Mary swerved away from the lady walking towards her and sprints into a tiny room filled with bottles and cleaning tools (“Janitor’s closet,” Said the voice, “A janitor is someone who cleans places for a living. Not like a servant or maid, though. It’s different.”), pressing up against the door to keep it shut once she’s inside. She slumps to the ground, trying to catch her breath and process what exactly was happening.

She could hear talking out in the hallway. It was muffled through the wall, but it would only take a little common sense to realize they were talking about her. Because of course they were.

  “...I don’t know. I just blinked and there she was!”

  “...That’s so weird. I’ve never seen her here before. Maybe she’s a new crew member?”

  “...We would have known by now.”

  “...True.”

  “...Plus, she looked so young! Maybe sixteen?”

  “...Joan, Katherine, and Maggie are young, too.”

  “...Oh yeah.”

Mary holds her breath and prays to God that they’ll go away. They don’t. The Lord must still be angry with her.

There’s a knock on the door that sends Mary hauling herself into the opposite wall. She collides with a shelf full of cleaning supplies and she feels her scarred back and aching neck throb disagreement. She grits her teeth and waits for the pain to subside, which causes her to miss what’s being said to her for the first few seconds.

  “..Hello? Hello? Are you okay in there?” Asked a first voice, which had a very weird accent to it. Nobody in Salem sounded like that.

  “What kind of drugs are you on, kid?” Piped up a second.

  “...Anne!”

  “...What? It’s a good question. You aren’t thinking it?”

  “...Definitely not.”

It takes a moment for Mary to register that words are being spoken to her. Words of concern; not ones that are screaming religious sacraments or witchery and accusations or cruel words directed specifically towards her. These people sounded genuinely worried about her. That didn’t stop her from putting up a tough front, though.

  “Wh-what? I’m- I’m not- not-!”

(“Drugs are...well, bad things in this world. They change your attitude and perception. People get addicted to them.” Explained the voice.)

Or, well, she tried to sound tough.

  “Poor thing must be so scared...” Murmured the first voice.

Oh, she definitely was.

  “Where am I?” Mary asked fearfully, her voice shaking more than she would like to admit.

  “London. In a theater.” The second voice answers without missing a beat, then added softly to their friend, “...See, I told you she wasn’t from here.”

London? Where- (“London is the capital of England.” Informed the voice.)

England...

Mary’s face paled. She couldn’t possibly be in England! How did she get at the sight of so much sin? How was she no longer in Salem? What-

A sudden pain in her neck halted Mary’s panic attack. She hissed in pain between her gritted teeth and raised a hand to clutch tightly at her throat. When her fingers brushed across the skin, she felt roughness and tenderness, as her flesh stung intensely when touched. She whimpered this time.

  “Kid?” A few knocks on the door, but Mary doesn’t really hear them or the person. She was too focused on the wound lancing across her neck. Upon inspection, she finds that it goes all the way around her neck.

...Had she been hung?

No. No, she definitely wasn’t. She knew she wasn’t. So how-

Mary’s stomach dropped.

She remembered being at the execution of Rebecca Nurse, Martha Corey, and John Proctor. Most of the other afflicted girls were gone, like Abigail and Mercy, who had run off to a boat. The hanging was the worst of them all for Mary. She was already struggling with the guilty and grief and trauma from the court experience, but this...it drove her over the edge.

She remembered stepping up onto the scaffolding late at night, tying up her beloved cloak, and-

  “Are you okay in there?”

Mary swears softly to herself. She wants to scream and pull her hair out, but that hasn’t done any good before. Besides, she doesn’t want to add anymore pain to her already throbbing head.

  “Do you mind coming out here? So we can talk face-to-face? Maybe we can help you?” Requested the first voice.

Mary was this close to just saying “That’s it! I’m killing myself!” and then guzzling down the cleaning chemicals in the room with her (the voice in her head said they were very toxic), but, this time, she stamps down that urge. Instead, stands up very slowly, half because of her hesitancy and half because of her wounds. She arms herself with a mop and opens the door begrudgingly.

Two completely normal looking people stared in at her, trying to seem as less threatening as possible, which she kind of appreciated.

Both of them were taller than her, most people were, and appeared to be a lot older. However, their clothes...one of them, a pale white lady, was clad in a shiny green dress of sorts, which was way too short for a woman to wear, and the dark-skinned person she had seen in the bathroom was wearing a sparkly blue outfit. It wasn’t a dress, rather something closer to men’s attire, and they both had their hair weird and weren’t wearing a bonnet.

  “Hi,” The dark-skinned woman said with a small smile, “I’m Catherine Parr. That’s Anne Boleyn. What’s your name?”

Mary looked both women up and down again, drinking in their appearance further. Were they witches? Surely that had to be. What normal person wouldn’t cover their head and would wear clothes like that? They must have teleported her to this sinful country or something! And...revived her? Because she definitely had died. (“Welcome to the 21st-century.”)

  “Mary,” She finally said softly. Her throat hurts when she talks.

Cathy and Anne exchange looks, with some kind of recognition flashing in their eyes, and for a moment Mary worried that she’ll have to accuse witchcraft on them if they know about her and her history. Then, they smile in a friendly way that eases her up a little. Not enough to pry her hand loose from the mop handle, though.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mary.” Anne said, “So I take it that you’re not from around here, huh? You must be real confused.”

Mary is only partially listening. She’s gone temporarily deaf in one ear and the other is constantly ringing, so she can’t hear much.

  “Yes...I am.” She said slowly.

  “Do you have any idea how you got here?” Cathy asked.

Mary shook her head. Really, that’s the truth. Being transported to another country entirely has never happened to her before.

  “That’s okay,” Anne said, “We’re not strangers to weird and unexplainable occurrences.”

Mary is actually curious about that and and the grins Anne and Cathy give each other, and really wants to question them, but her conscious starts to waver. She blinks several times, but black spots continue to rage across her vision. Through the dark blizzard, she sees Cathy turn back to her.

  “Mary?”

Arms on her shoulders. Mary stiffens, spine arching and causing a horrible sensation to ripple through her back.

  “Holy shit, is that blood?!”

  “Oh my god- her back...”

Warmth starts to spread across Mary’s back. Something is running down her waist and legs. Pain turns to numbness.

  “Anne, call 999-”

  “No!”

Raising the mop, Mary hits Cathy in the stomach as hard as she could, winding the woman and causing her to stumble to the wide while clutching at her midsection. She notices anger flash in Anne’s eyes.

  “What the fuck is-”

Mary swings again, nailing Anne in the shoulder.

  “Witch!” She shrieked and doesn’t miss the way the green-clad woman pales, “Get away from me, you witch! Get away!!”

The screaming draws people to the hallway and Mary backs away, shakily pointing the mop at them like it was the legendary sword Excalibur. (She only knows what that is because the Knowledge Voice in her head told her.) Among them is another dark-skinned woman, this one older than Cathy and clad in golden clothes that were even more revealing that Anne’s. She’s the one who charges forward and, in response, Mary scampers back into the storage closet.

  “What is going on?!” The woman yelled, “Who is that child?!”

  “She said her name was Mary,” Cathy wheezed out, tenderly massaging the place where she was hit, “She appeared-”

  “Mary?”

The pretty golden lady’s eyes are really wide.

  “My daughter?”

The mop dropped from Mary’s hands. That catches the woman’s attention and she turns to look at where she’s peeking fearfully out of the janitor’s closet.

  “Catherine-”

  “Mary...” The woman, also Catherine, ignored Cathy. She steps towards Mary, who backs away with a whimper. “Shh, shh,” She shushed softly, “It’s me, darling. It’s your mother.”

  “Mother?” Mary squeaked.

She never knew her parents. Everyone in the village said she was an orphan. And, although their skin tones didn’t match, the Knowledge Voice said that a colored woman could have a white child if her husband was also white. Sometimes even if they were both colored! So...maybe this was her mother. Maybe they were both revived due to witchery for the sole purpose of reuniting!

Mary didn’t care about how crazy that sounded, she vaulted herself into Catherine’s arms, clinging tightly.

  “Mom...” She whispered.

If that set off alarm bells in Catherine’s brain, she didn’t show it.

[sage-nebula]

Astral Chain - Howard Twins Headcanons

As I usually do when I play video games, I came up with headcanons and fleshed out the narrative / scenes in my head as I played through Astral Chain. I’m thinking about putting all of those ideas into a fic that’s something of a novelization of the story (albeit with some canon divergences, deeper explorations of relationships, and lots of flashbacks to the past), but until I do that, I figured I’d jot down some headcanons I have for the twins that would absolutely play into anything I decided to write for them, both serious and trivial.

With that said . . .

- - -

Their names are Maki and Akira. Maki is the girl, Akira is the boy.

Max is the one who named them, because their father was nowhere to be seen when he found them, and their mother redshifted into an aberration minutes after they were born. That said, it took him a while to come up with names for them; for the first week and a half he referred to them as “Girl Baby” and “Boy Baby” respectively.

That said, he did put legitimate thought into their names. When he got a chance he went through baby name sites to try to find Japanese names, and ultimately picked their names based on what they (the twins) meant to him. He chose “Akira” because the site he found said it meant “shining; bright.” He chose “Maki” because the site he found said it meant “truth; hope.” He later learned that Japanese names can mean many different things depending on the kanji chosen for them (and that he hadn’t chosen any kanji at all because he couldn’t read it), but he decided to keep the names anyway because he liked the sound of them, particularly since they subtly matched (Maki, Akira).

He actually doesn’t know which one was born first, but just decided it was Maki after being asked one too many times by strangers and flipping a coin to decide on an answer.

Maki’s hair is naturally light bluish-silver, and her eyes are naturally purple. No one knows if this is due to genes on one parent’s side or another, or if this is due to the red matter she and Akira soaked up while in the womb. Max would rather smash skulls than let scientists find out.

Maki is also naturally near-sighted, which gives way to needing vision correction. She usually wears glasses, but does have a pair of brown contacts---the same color as Akira’s---that she uses sometimes as well. She used these and black hair dye when she took the police academy entrance exams to make a better impression on those testing her, not wanting to be looked upon as a delinquent and have that affect her scores. Once accepted, she went back to her natural hair color / showed her natural eye color, knowing they couldn’t (or rather, wouldn’t) exactly boot her out so long as she kept her performance up.

Akira’s eyesight is perfect, as are his other senses. Darker hair and eyes also speak to dominant genes. These things always made Akira subconsciously think he was stronger than his sister, which is part of what caused such a shock to his system when she could fully control her Legion while he lost control of his.

On a lighter note, Maki and Akira have always considered the other to be their best friend, and were always open and unashamed about this fact. Obviously, things took a turn for the very strained and bad once they both came to Neuron.

That said, when they fought, they fought; neither has ever held anything back from each other and shouting matches could get intense. They always forgave each other, but there were times when Max had to separate them for his own sanity and eardrums.

Like most people, Akira cried when he was born. Maki did not. In his defense, Akira was also nearly killed by his aberration mother shortly after being born, so.

To that end, Akira has always been something of an easy crier, as well as loudly expressive of his emotions. Maki cries less easily, and is quieter about how she feels, though no less expressive if you look at her (and even with how quiet she is, she can be pushed---see the reference to the shouting matches above). 

Akira is more impulsive, whereas Maki takes more time to think. However, Akira places far more importance in following rules and regulations, whereas Maki prefers to ask forgiveness rather than permission (and even then, does not always ask forgiveness if she doesn’t care whether the other person forgives her or not; this is the case with Yoseph after everything in Zone 09 and how she’s thrown in jail, for instance).

To that end, while Maki does look up to and respect Max a great deal, she didn’t feel it was strictly necessary to become a cop to save people, and signed up partially because Akira was signing up and she wanted to watch out for him as his partner on the field. This is why she goes along with things like trying to fight a chimera even though Max said not to (because she doesn’t want Akira to get hurt / killed), and also why she doesn’t really mind being a fugitive once Yoseph declares her one.

Maki’s favorite colors are blue and purple; Akira’s favorite color is red; and Max’s favorite color is green.

Maki is asexual with an ambiguous romantic orientation; she doesn’t think gender really plays a part in who she develops feelings for at all, but she does develop feelings for Hal and he’s a cyborg who interacts with her through a drone 99.9% of the time, so. There’s that.

Akira is gay, but he’s been so laser-focused on becoming an officer for so long that he’s never realized / recognized his attraction to anyone before, much less thought about a relationship. When he does develop a crush on someone, he’s caught so off-guard and becomes so flustered that he’s more likely to pull a “get out of my precinct” than anything else. When Maki notices, she tries to help him be less of a disaster about it (and when he realizes that’s what she’s doing, he points out that she’s dating a cyborg who interacts with her primarily through drone and so she’s not exactly an expert on this, which is when she points out that he just told his crush to get out of HQ via handwritten note, which is when Olive overhears this and decides to give both of the disasters some guidance (”or,” she says, “at least Akira, because at least he’s got better taste than Hal”).

While Akira is more impulsive, Maki is the one more likely to jump to practical violence faster, e.g. knocking out guards instead of trying to sneak past them, punching someone in the face for making fun of her brother when they were younger, et cetera. Part of this can be seen in how Akira prefers to fight from a distance with ammunition, whereas Maki prefers to get up close and personal to hit things.

Once they became officers, Alicia made a comment along the lines of, “Guess your sister prefers the short staff because of her eyesight, huh?” to Akira, to which he replied, “I think she just likes to hit things and get it over with.” Later, when Alicia brought up her theory to Maki (saying she’d mentioned it to Akira), Maki shrugged and said, “Eh, I just like to hit things and get it over with.” Akira’s grin was so smug.

Maki loves ice cream; it’s a huge vice and weakness. Akira prefers cake, and keeps little snack cakes in his locker at HQ.

Consequently, their birthday cakes were always ice cream cakes.

Although they’re not identical and couldn’t pass for one another, they used to always swap and wear each other’s clothes growing up, and even now that they’re adults Maki still has no qualms about “borrowing” one of Akira’s sweatshirts or jackets (and he really doesn’t care if she does).

Max took extra care to never make one of them think the other was the favorite. Whenever he praised one for something, he found something else to praise the other for, and so forth. Any time it seemed like there might be a hint of competition for his attention or affection between them, he shut it down real quick by giving attention and affection to both at the same time.

Akira was always quietly envious of Maki’s ability to seemingly always remain cool and level-headed in tense situations; Maki was always quietly envious of Akira’s ability to quickly be open with and befriend strangers.

Akira is very ticklish in his sides and whenever he would get too wrapped up in trying to appear mature and Definitely Ready to Save the World, Maki would tickle him there to bring him back down to earth. Obviously, it wasn’t really possible to fix things this way once they got to Neuron.

When they were kids and Max had them out shopping or for errands and they’d get too rambunctious, he’d tell them, “stealth mode, eyes up.” Thinking this was part of Hero Training™, they’d serious up very quick and be much more manageable for the rest of the trip.

“Eyes up” is the Howard way of saying, “stay safe; take care” whenever separating.

Maki tries to keep Akira out of (life-threatening) danger; Akira tries to keep Maki out of (serious) trouble. As demonstrated by everything that happens once they join Neuron, both tend to be rather bad at their self-appointed tasks.

While Maki would punch those who teased Akira in the face when they were children, Akira took a more passive-aggressive approach to dealing with those who would tease Maki. He would stand up for her in person, generally, telling the other kid to back off---but then he’d also pay close attention to them so that the moment they did something wrong, he’d get them caught by the teacher (or principal, or whoever) so they’d get in trouble.

They shared a room for many years growing up. Max got a bigger place so they could have separate rooms once they hit their teenage years, but on nights when Max would be out very late working, both twins would end up sleeping on opposite ends of the couch together anyway, Maki’s legs up over the back while Akira’s were spread out across the coffee table, both because they’d tried to wait up for him, and because they felt less anxious about his safety if they were near each other.

Once they were old enough to use things like the microwave, stove, or even oven without burning the house down, Akira and Maki worked together took cook dinner (or breakfast, or whatever) for Max on his birthday. On Father’s Day, they always pooled their allowances to get him a mutual gift. (They would hand make him cards, and Max saved each and every one in a photo album.)

Each year on their birthday, they played a game of trying to guess what the other got them. By the time they hit Neuron, their scores are about even.

When they were in school, if one of them got detention, the other would do something wrong so they’d be in detention together after school. For instance, once Maki got detention for pouring her soup over a boy who was harassing another girl in the lunch room, so Akira landed himself in the same detention by looking a teacher straight in the eye as he knocked their coffee mug off their desk and onto the floor, and then not even saying sorry after. (He bought them a new mug two days later.)

Akira is a horrible liar, and he doesn’t make a habit of trying, but he’d often try to if it meant covering for his sister, which would usually go something like: “I think your sister did [this wrong thing].” “I don’t know, I don’t know her.” “You don’t know your sister??”  Maki is only slightly better because she usually shuts her mouth and refuses to talk at all.

One time when Jin was babysitting he took the twins out for a day of fun, and at one point they decided (without asking) to play hide-and-seek with him. At first their hiding spaces were pretty obvious to him, though he pretneded they weren’t, but then somehow they managed to slip away and he, however briefly, lost them and panicked because he knew that he’d be dead before he had a chance to make a will if Max found out. Fortunately, he found the twins before then.

Another time when they were kids, they decided to give each other haircuts. When Max saw them, he laughed so hard he cried, and took pictures. The twins, fortunately, were too young to be embarrassed.

[snexy-the-snail]

Sweet Angel of Mine

((Oml I thought I would never finish this >-

Crowley never understood his Angel’s fascination with eating they didn’t need to eat so why did Aziraphale constantly eat? It got on his nerves almost as much ad when his angel decided to be nice to his plants, everyone knew plants grew better when being told they couldn’t!

It was morning and they were sitting inside Aziraphale bookstore, the angel having tea with some biscuits on the side, not his usual breakfast, it was strange he swapped them out some times. Then again it was Monday his biscuits and jam rotation with a nice Herbal tea. The silence grated at his nerves until he decided to speak.

“Why are you eating angel, we don’t need to cramp that crap into our bodies.” Crowely demands tapping the table. He scowls slightly when he wasn’t answered straight away. He wasn’t patient when it came to getting the information that was for sure.

“Oh! I didn’t know that’s what was bothering you.” Aziraphale says with a small laugh. Of course the angel knew his feelings, they had known each other since the birth of the world.

“I just like the taste that’s all.”

That was it. That was the only reason Aziraphale insisted on getting tea cakes whenever they went by a shop? Because he simply just liked the bloody taste?! He grits his teeth the tapping increasing to keep up with his rising temper.

“I’m calling horse crap, that mush can’t be that good.” He says flatly. He scoffs at the idea of any human food having taste at all. It was something his angel was passionate about however…perhaps he could use this to his advantage.

“It is! Each item has a taste that is quite pleasant.” Aziraphale says. He looked mildly offended at the accusation of his beloved snacks being called ‘mush’. His frown deepens when Crowely snorts dramatically leaning forward in his chair. He knew that lean, that was the 'I have a bet to make.’ Pose.

“You (I) have a bet to propose to me (you).” They both say in perfect sync, Aziraphale giving a little sigh before sipping his tea. He knew this demon inside and out.

“If I lose I’ll eat something, if you lose I get to take your rose bush.” Crowley declares. The risks for both of them weren’t horrible so of course his angel would agree. Now all that was left was what the bet was and his plan would be set in motion. His angel had no idea of the storm that was coming.

Aziraphale stirred his tea with a slight smile. He knew this game, Crowely would set the boundaries and he would choose what the bet, it was only fair after all.

“Alright you’ve got yourself a bet.” He muses softly. He would choose something that was hard for the demon but not overall impossible for the demon.

“And what is the bet my dear angel?” Crowely pracially purrs back to him leaning in closer. A tactic to make him slip up of course, he wouldnt fall for it, not this time.

“Why to be kind and friendly for a whole four hours my dear friend.” He replied innocently. The look of disgust on Crowley’s face was beautiful, despite having faith in his friend he knew he would be winning this bet. His rose bush was safe from verbal abuse for another day.  

“You’re on angel.” Crowley says glancing at the clock trying not to show his displeasure. He could at least make an attempt, Aziraphale rose bush was quite a catch.

Crowely wasn’t sure if Aziraphale was a demon in disguise or not. The angel had dragged him out of the store to go to the park where there were thousands of people milling about. He had almost made the four hours until some idiot of a man decided to mock them for walking together in the park. The man went home with a bloodied face and his honor ripped to shreds. He was almost relieved to be back in that musty old bookstore.

“You did that on purpose.” Crowely grumbles all but collapsing into a chair. Being nice was utterly exhausting. The amount of entitled screaming brats he had to deal with was maddening as well.

“Perhaps I did, now dear what will you be enjoying today?” Aziraphale asks cheerfully. God it was like that angel hadn’t just dragged him through hell on earth.

“Well I did have something specific in mind.” He muses. He grins slightly at the surprised look on his Angel’s face. All the bet entailed was that had had to eat something, or perhaps someone would be more accurate~

“Oh? What is it, we might have the ingredients to make it!” Aziraphale says pleased that his friend had at least something in mind that he wanted to have. He felt a bit bad he hadn’t noticed what the demon had his eyes on but figured it had only been a brief moment.

He was mildly shocked when Crowely leaned in with a wide grin then proceeded to boop his nose. He had no idea what his friend was doing at all.

“Why it’s you my sweet little angel.”

Oh dear. Well at least he knew why Crowely had been so insistent on making the bet suddenly.

“O-oh, that’s not technically-” he trails off very flustered. He had no idea the demon wanted to eat him, it was quite strange but who was he to judge.

“Oh hush and condense your form angel.” Crowely says waving his hand dismissively. He wondered how the angel would taste, Aziraphale had told him he tasted like something roasting with a hint of herbs. A strangely delicious combination but who was he to complain.

He grins to himself when Aziraphale obeyed and started forcing his form down to a manageable height. “Honestly, Angel I was expecting more of a fight.” He scolds playfully.

His grin widens at Aziraphale offended look, waiting until his angel was going to speak to scoop him up.

“Well what’s the p-oooooint- you’re quite an arse.”

The look of brief panic did make him feel a bit guilty but it had been absolutely hilarious. He wouldn’t hurt his angel on purpose after all. He snickered and just brought Aziraphale up to his face.

He could feel every shift his angel made, getting more comfortable it looked like, however it was obvious that Aziraphale was nervous. Why shouldn’t he be? This wasn’t exactly the most natural thing even amongst their own kind.

“You’ll be alright, I won’t bite.” Crowely promises. He opens his mouth wide and tilts his hand forward, the strange feeling of little feet slipping down farthing into his mouth. He was a bit giddy on what the angel would taste like truthfully.

“I know you won’t, you’re very gentle.” Aziraphale says calmly. He wasnt too nervous, this was his friend after all, crowley had saved him more times than he cared to count. He chuckles softly at the short huff Crowely gave. It was a strange feeling to be in someone’s mouth, everything was slick and rather warm and yes very humid.

He shudders slightly as he was shifted more to the center, the slick muscle keeping him from Crowley’s fangs. The area when dark with a quite click, that’s when the gentle movements started up. He was pushed around Crowely’s mouth, saliva soaking through his clothing in seconds. It was going on for more than necessary, and with a shock Aziraphale realized he was being tasted.

“Are you savoring me?” He squeaks out, everything going still. He wondered if Crowely was flustered at being caught, he didn’t have long to ponder before the demon swallowed hard. His legs being pulled down by the tight muscles.

“Aw don’t be shy love.” He says teasingly, his cheeks a bright red. He chuckles sheepishly as his demon swallowed again being pulled down easily by gravity. He shudders slightly squirming a bit at the tightness, the muscles pulling him down with ease.

It wasn’t long after passing a heart beat that he was squeezed into the demon’s stomach. It was warmer than any human’s stomach would be and the pattern was dark like a faded galaxy. There weren’t many colors in fact all of them were faint and faded, a painful memory that Crowely had fallen.

He sighs softly and shifts a bit attempting to keep his balance as he moved more to a stomach wall.

“Are you alright my angel?”

Crowely’s voice came from all sides just like the first day of creation. They were everything and nothing until humans came, then they took shape but before that..they were breathtaking.

“Fine my dear, a bit wet but it’s to be expected.” Aziraphale responds giving the flesh in front of him a fond pat. He smiles at the small chuckle Crowely tried to hide. Quite frankly it was hard to hide something like that when one was so close but he decided to leave it for now.

“So how long should I expect being tucked away like this?” He asked curiously. He truthfully didnt mind, it was a comforting welcome from the noisy outside world.

“As long as I see fit.” Crowely responds back. Aziraphale knew it would be a while knowing the demon. He supposed he should’ve just let his rose bush go, despite his strange tactics the flowers grew beautifully. He could handle being stashed away for a while.

“Fair enough, but please remember my cakes are coming at ten.” He says with a small sigh. He stretches out getting comfortable as soft flesh rippled around his small form, pushing and kneading at him.

“I’ll get your cakes you prissy.”

All was well in the little bookshop. Both cosmetic beings were content, however the roles would be reversing soon again. It was certainly a fun little experiment.

[nadziejastar]

Xemnas: You seek answers. I can give you purpose.

Roxas: Roxas.

Xemnas: That is right–the new you.

Axel: Man, I miss the old times. Still got it memorized? The day we met, when you got your new name, you and I sat right here, just like this and watched the sunset.

Oh, I definitely think that KH3 destroyed EVERYTHING that was set up for BOTH Lea and Isa regarding the future games. I’m sure Nomura was heartbroken when he had to write KH3′s awful script. I know he’s capable of FAR better than that. He still tried to hint at what he wanted between them, and they probably will ALWAYS come across like they’re closeted. When Saïx showed up at the clock tower, I still think Axel acted like someone who was seeing an ex who broke their heart that they still had feelings for. But that requires reading between the lines. I don’t think there’s any coming back from it, no.

Xemnas: As your flesh bears the sigil, so your name shall be known as that…of a recusant.

If Lea had at least cared enough to save Isa and restore his REAL personality, then I would be more optimistic about the future of his character. But the dude that was left over in KH3 was not the same Isa that was in BBS. You can’t even blame it on him having no heart or being Norted anymore since they backpedaled on that idea. He had no excuse for his time as a villain. But that was supposed to be what Isa’s whole character was about. He lost his true purpose. Xemnas branded him with the Recusant’s Sigil and brainwashed him to have a new purpose: becoming stronger.

Naminé watched the Replica battle Sora in the crystal ball.

“Does it hurt, Naminé? Watching your two childhood friends fight all because of you? You have my sympathies,” Axel said quietly. “From the heart.”

His words were meant for the Replica. Not for her.

Axel was hinted to have a very dark and tragic past. It was supposed to be the backbone of his entire character. In the novel, you can see that when Axel said this to Naminé, it happened on the same day Roxas officially decided to call Xion his friend and treated her to the icing on the cake. He made her a promise that they would all eat ice cream together when Axel got back. This is just after he found the WINNER stick. Xion said they must be really close.

Xion: We don’t have any place to run.

Roxas: I know. Heh, I was just thinking out loud.

Axel: Well, even if things change, we’ll never be apart–

Xion: As long as we remember each other…right? Don’t worry, Axel–we got your hokey speech memorized.

Axel: Just checking.

Xion: I’ll have these moments memorized for a long time. Forever, I hope.

She also says that on Day 352 ~Sunset~, the last time they all ate ice cream together. Roxas and Xion almost killed each other and Axel’s calm reaction speaks volumes. He was smiling and urged everyone to go get ice cream, like that was the most natural thing in the world to do when someone was about to die. Instead of panicking, he coped by doing fun childish things like eating ice cream and talking about looking for a WINNER stick.

Axel: Hey, Roxas. Bet you don’t know why the sun sets red. You see, light is made up of lots of colors. And out of all those colors, red is the one that travels the farthest.

Roxas: Like I asked! Know-it-all. Seriously, where is she?

Axel: Roxas… I’m not sure she’s gonna show today.

It’s because he’d already been though that experience before. Roxas and Xion’s fate from the very beginning was to fight to the death. And there are countless hints in the story that Lea and Isa were in the same situation. One of them was going to die. They knew they didn’t have much time left to be together.  

Roxas: Where did I think I could go? What a joke.

Xion: Roxas…I’m out of time. Even if I’m not ready…I have to make this choice. You have poured so many memories into me…given me so much…that I feel like I’m about to overflow. Look at me, Roxas. Who do you see? If you see somebody else’s face…a boy’s face…then that means I’m almost ready. This puppet will have to play her part. Roxas… This is him. It’s Sora.

The whole point of RAX was that Roxas and Xion’s relationship was playing out exactly like Lea and Isa’s did in the past. They were once inseparable. Roxas and Xion are just like how they used to be. But now one of them will have to kill the other and there’s nothing they can do about it. It was déjà vu the entire year for Axel. I suspect that is probably the true meaning of “358/2 Days”. His actions were always influenced by that prior history, which he kept a secret.

Axel: How did this happen?

Saïx: Xion is no more.

Xemnas: It is probably for the best. Get me back my Keyblade wielder. Fetch me Roxas.

Regarding casual fans, I think they are a big reason why Isa got destroyed. KH3 was written primarily for casual fans. And casual fans never cared about Isa. Most didn’t even knew who he was. Some thought Isa playfully teasing Lea was supposed to show that he was always evil, even as a kid. 🙄 The whole idea that Axel cared very deeply for Isa and that he had changed went right over their heads. So yeah, Isa was simply not a priority and I don’t see that changing in the future.

Day 357: To My Best Friend

Roxas left. It’s so like him to just leave that WINNER ice cream stick behind. Come tomorrow, I’ll probably get the order to hunt him down, but leaving that here makes it feel so permanent. I wish the three of us—three? No. That the two of us could share some ice cream again someday. That’s what it is to be friends.

Not to mention that casual fans are obsessed with Roxas, and that’s why Axel was obsessed with him and forgot about Isa. TBH, I never thought Roxas and Axel’s friendship was very interesting, even in KH2. When I first played Days, I actually found it to be rather dull. A grown man with a troubled past befriends a naive kid. He constantly lies to him to shelter him from the harsh realities of life. He avoids talking about his past or anything too heavy with him at all times. Okay, that’s fine. But I’m supposed to accept that they are inseparable BFF’s who are SOOO close that seeing Roxas is the only thing that gives Axel’s existence meaning? And I’m supposed to find that cute? I’m sorry, it’s not. It’s weird. It wasn’t until I played BBS that I saw their relationship differently. Then I actually liked how it was portrayed and Axel became my favorite character.

Axel: Look who’s finally awake.

Roxas: Axel...

Axel: Or…maybe I have it wrong. Might be time to sleep. Soon we won’t be able to talk like this anymore.

Roxas: Does that mean it’s time for me to go back to where I belong?

Because I realized that Axel’s relationship with Roxas and Xion was an attempt to “fix” his broken relationship with Isa. And that made him a million times more interesting and relatable. I think Lea has been ruined beyond repair just like Isa has. KH3 watered him down so much that I can’t even really say that I like him anymore, or that I am looking forward to his future appearances. He lowkey sucks now. I actually don’t think his character is very interesting without Isa. And I don’t think the direction they took with him will even appeal to casual fans. All the casual fans I know said he sucked in KH3. Not only was he was sidelined during his fight, he lacked that mysterious and edgy quality that made him so popular. His past now revolves around a random girl. 

Axel: Man, I miss the old times. Still got it memorized? The day we met, when you got your new name, you and I sat right here and watched the sunset.

Roxas: Yeah. This place is home. Me… Hayner, Pence, Olette…We’ve shared a lot of adventures.

Axel: You’ll see them again. I know you will.

Roxas: Yeah, you’re right. Well, I should go. Sora’s waiting for me.

Axel: Yeah, I suppose he is.

Why did Saïx show up at the clock tower and know exactly why Axel had three ice creams? When Axel said he would drag Saïx back home, why did Saïx intently stare at his popsicle stick, immediately mention that Axel’s tear marks were gone, then stand up like Xion did when she said she was out of time? Why did Saïx know that the tear marks were because Axel was crying so much? I doubt any of this will be explained, but it’s probably because he remembers Lea crying for him. Isa’s time was almost up. They spent their last day together eating ice cream, watching the sunset, and Isa told Lea why the sunset was red. Lea was heartbroken and crying when they said “See ya”, promising to meet each other again in the next life.

Like we promised to meet again in the next life. We’ll make another promise. “See you, partner,” said Axel. Roxas gave him one last smile and vanished into the air. Moments later, Axel did the same.

Isa’s whole character was created for Lea to awaken his Keyblade. Lea had something important to recover that was lost. He treasured Isa. Axel’s memories of Isa were very precious to him. When Axel was asked what he couldn’t bear to lose, he didn’t say his relationship with Saïx. He said his memories of the past because that’s all he had to remember the pain of losing something. I don’t see how Isa’s character could possibly be salvaged when he wasn’t even saved with the power of waking. When his redemption consisted of bringing back Roxas and Xion instead of revealing that Isa sacrificed himself for Lea. And without showing that Lea loved Isa. When you change the background of a character THAT much, you are pushing the reset button. Lea and Isa might as well be new characters at this point.

Sora, Riku… Please come home. We’re waiting for you here at the blue sea, under the clear sky. If this wish reaches you… If you’re somewhere out there under the same sky… I want you to know. We’re waiting for you. And we’ll keep waiting.

She could hear the soft rushing of the waves. Kairi thought back to that day when she’d written a letter to the boy she couldn’t quite remember. She’d believed that letter would begin something. Why had she thought that? It was someone she’d seen in a dream. It must have been Sora—no, Roxas?

“It starts with an S!”

“Starts with an S…,” Kairi murmured. “Sora.” We made a promise. I know we did.

They changed the wording of Kairi’s letter to emphasize that she had been waiting for Sora and Riku. When Axel said they’d meet again in the next life, Roxas said he’d be waiting. The secret ending of Re:Coded is called “Destiny”. Braig asked Young Xehanort who he should bring with him. It cut off, so the only thing we heard was that the name started with an “S”. KH3D had already been released, so everyone knew Isa was the one Braig had taken with him and that the name he said must have been Saïx. So why make that the secret ending?

A promise… We’ll meet again…in the next life. We did say that. I remember. I remember our promise.

I think that the whole secret ending of KH2.5 was devoted to this promise. Lea began his next life in the lab after also seeing Roxas in a dream and being reminded of a promise he made to someone he couldn’t remember. Then Lea said he’d bring Isa back while looking at “Door to Darkness” written on the wall. If Lea had gone through the Door to Darkness before, then how did he find HIS Door to Light?

[greennightspider]

Fated Instinct Chapter 17: Shadows in the Light

Author’s Note: I know. I KNOW. ITS BEEN A WHILE. I had a bad bout of writers block, so please be gentle if this chapter ain’t up to par, it’ll take me a while to get back into it but I gotta start somewhere >.< mERRY CRISMIS

Summary: Sequel to Cabin in the Snow. Akari finds herself in a predicament after an accidental overnight stay in a cabin grants her the title of fiance to the chieftain-to-be M’Baku himself.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7 Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16,  Chapter 18, Chapter 19,  Chapter 19(2),  Chapter 20,  Chapter 20(2),  Chapter 21,  Chapter 22, Chapter 23,  Chapter 24

Bonus Chapter 21.5

Character List

M’Baku X Akari (OC)

“M’Baku you promised.”

Akari held M’Baku’s face in her hands. Even after he had sated his desire (after almost throwing Akari over his shoulder and somehow making it to his bedroom still clothed), it failed to put even a dent in the rage he felt when Akari told him her news in the aftermath. He threw the blankets off in a fit of rage, and Akari knew M’Baku would waste no time announcing this new knowledge to his family. Even if he was only clad in a tight pair of boxers.

But Akari was no pushover. She grabbed his shoulder and dragged M’Baku back down onto the bed, straddling his waist while both hands cupped the strong jawline that remained locked in frustration. His nostrils flared. “I should be telling father, he will make this right.”

Akari’s fingers tightened. “We have no proof M’Baku, not yet. One of the only things any of us have on our side is ignorance.” Akari then quickly locked her legs around M’Baku’s hips. “We don’t know how big this, who is involved, and who knows the truth of what is happening.”

Akari loosened her grip when she saw the defeat creeping into his eyes, settling for gently cupping his check while rubbing his temple. “Accusing a noble is no small feat. And what do you think would happen to N’Ceba, hmmm? What do you think would happen to her at home during the trial? Who do you think he might take his anger out on?”

Though even still Akari didn’t trust N’Ceba fully, the surprisingly nervous girl she had grown to know, who loved to laugh and smile, was someone Akari had grown to care for. And it hurt Akari when she would see little flashes of fear and pain in N’Ceba’s eyes whenever she talked about her father. Her own flesh and blood. And if even half of what she said was true, then they needed to make sure N’Ceba was protected in the aftermath.

And Akari knew knew M’Baku would feel the same.

The future chieftain halted at Akari’s words. M’Baku bit his lip, his short-temper finally subsiding at the soothing voice and the calming hands of the beauty straddled around his waist. “I know you are right, my love.” Akari held his head close to her chest. “But I cannot sit back and do nothing.”

“I know. I know.” Akari kissed his forehead. “But we need to wait for the right time. Then, and only then, will we be able to protect us all.”

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

N’Ceba dared not move. Dared not whisper. Dared not make a sound. She made herself as insignificant as possible, melting into the shadows of her hallway, listening to the murmuring voices in the night.

Normally her father would leave and conduct his ‘business’ elsewhere, but this was the first time someone had actually come to the house. She slowly lowered herself to the ground, back still to the wall, and edged closer towards the doorway. She quickly peaked in one breath before retreating back to the edge of the door frame.

“This has gone on long enough. You move tomorrow. You’ve followed her movements, the girl will be at her house three nights from now. Alone.”

N’Ceba’s eyes widened, and it took her swift thinking not to gasp. Taking one more look N’Ceba was sure that she saw a parcel, or the glint of a knife in the moonlight towards the hooded figure. “Make sure that Eshile’s daughter gets the message.”

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

The next day…

N’Ceba and Runi both went dead silent when Akari walked in with M’Baku in tow, his enormous frame filling the room with a tension that pooled in the air. The heir to the throne silent, N’Ceba and Runi reading the tension in his eyes.

Runi of course, couldn’t help but bite her bottom lip before blurting out. “Soooooo I’m guessing the plan worked?”

M’Baku’s head whipped to the side, nostrils flared, not realizing this had been a team effort, but Akari grabbed his arm before he could grumble once more. “What’s important is that he’s here, and that he’s on board. Besides, we’re here for someone else, aren’t we,” Akari stated calmly, before turning to their other partner in crime (while doing a thumbs up sign behind her back at Runi). “N’Ceba why call this now?”

“To invite you to my birthday party! M’Baku already had an invitation but I thought I’d invite you guys too.” N’Ceba smiled brightly. Almost…. unnaturally bright Akari noticed.

“THAT’S what all we’re here for at 5 in the morning??” Runi cried, “so that you could invite us TO A PARTY?!”

N’Ceba’s smile faded, before taking a deep breath and sighing. “We’re here because we need to make sure that Akari isn’t at home in three night’s time.”

“Why.” M’Baku demanded, the first word he’d spoken this whole time.

The hairs on N’Ceba’s neck stood up, not missing the anger behind her friend’s words, but carried on. “I overheard my father talking to someone last night about making sure Akari ‘gets the message’. I have no idea what it means, but he was aiming for when you’d be home alone.” At this M’Baku jerked away from the table and started pacing in instinctual fury.

Runi clicked her teeth in acknowledgement. “And I’m guessing the last place your old man would think Akari would be is your birthday bash.”

“Exactly. It’ll be full of people, mostly the noblemen and their families and heirs. I can guarantee it’ll go well into the night. Meaning…”

“Whoever knocks on Akari’s door will find an empty house.” M’Baku sauntered, starting to slow down.

“It’s a good plan.” Akari gently tapped his arm, before turning to N’Ceba. “This way your father doesn’t know we know, it doesn’t get you caught, and it buys us more time.”

“I have a question!” Runi declared, shooting her hand up.

“Er, sure?” N’Ceba replied.

“Will there be cake?”

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

N’Ceba’s birthday celebration took place underneath one of the waterfalls near the borders of Jabari Land. Behind the grand icy showers was a hall hewn into rock, and from corner to corner were ribbons of red and yellow fabric. Lights covered the ceiling and part of the floors leaving the whole hall in a warm yellow glow, apparently N’Ceba’s favorite color. Lined against the far walls of the cave were tables of food and drink, with musicians in one corner letting their beat echo throughout the night while the roars of the waterfall faded in the background. Akari stood in awe of the decorations and lights, wearing a knee length flowy dress with a peachy hue with spaghetti straps that dipped into more ruffled material off her shoulders. 

“I love the braids girl.” Runi mused.

“Oh yeah?” Akari twirled one around her fingers. “I wasn’t sure about the colour but me and Kaia got matching ones at the market today before she took off to her friend’s place for a sleepover.”

“Well if it looks good one of you it looks good on both.” Runi said as she munched on a small brownie. “I swear sometimes from the back you two could pass for twins.”

Akari raised an eyebrow and quickly plucked the second brownie from Runi’s plate with a grin. “Well she is getting older, I mean she’ll be eighteen in a couple weeks.”

Runi groaned before turning to try and grab some more snacks. “Ugh don’t remind me we’re getting old!”

In the midst of their conversation Akari spotted M’Baku with his boys in one corner nearer to the edge of the waterfall. They were all laughing and drinking, looking like they were daring each other to jump. Akari caught M’Baku’s eye and gave him a sly smile and a wink, to which his boys started nudging him and whooping, while M’Baku grinned with pride. She was content to let them have him to themselves for one night.

“You guys enjoying the party?”

Akari and Runi both turned around to see the birthday girl, clad in a short mermaid style dress with a slit down the side and earrings to match with two drinks in hand. N’Ceba’s smile was a look of relief. “I’m glad you guys made it.”

“So far so good,” Akari returned the smile. Runi tapped Akari in the shoulder just to let her know she was getting a call on her kimoyo beads, leaving the two girls to catch up.

“I should drag his ass here to properly accompany you.” N’Ceba sipped her drink and making judgmental eyes at the ruckus of boys in the corner, handing Akari a drink of her own.

Akari laughed as she sipped the frosted beverage. “I think he deserves to let loose after what we pulled on him the other day.”

N’Ceba snorted. “Oh girl, that wasn’t a punishment that was a damn GIFT!” To which both girls started chuckling in fits. And over the next few days, Akari would remember this moment. 

This moment, where everything was right in the world. Where she felt happy and carefree with a most unlikely friend, in the most unlikely of places, and with the most unexpected of fiancés. In between the warm light of the party and the cool glow of the moon, Akari felt at peace. In this moment. Where it felt like maybe, just maybe, it was all going to work out okay.

Not long after the two girls had made their way to one of the refreshment tables N’Ceba spotted Runi pacing back to them in a panic. Dragging both of them to the side Akari struggled to balance her glass while N’Ceba was more concerned with what she had seen on Runi’s face. “Hey is everything alright?”

Runi took a moment to catch her breath, her eyes darting between the both of them. Her face was pale, her eyes widened in shock, and she struggled to find her words. “Akari I just got a message from ‘Kele. Something’s happened.”

“What do you mean ‘somethings happened’?” Akari’s heartbeat started to quicken as Runi’s eyes were on the verge of tears. Runi tried to grab Akari’s arm but she brushed it off, her voice becoming hoarse. “What do you mean. Something’s happened.’”

Runi then grabbed Akari’s arm again, firmly this time. Looking to the ground, Runi struggled to get the two words out, the two words that she knew would break her best friend’s heart.

“Its Kaia.”

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

Taglist: @skysynclair19 @junesbride @great-neckpectations @muse-of-mbaku @hippiesandpeacesigns @jackburtonsays @coonflix @hi-looo12 @bonyg @romanceoftheeveryday-blog @someareblindtoitsbeauty @wheredidallthedreamersgo @msblkshot710 @peaches-bbygrl @theunsweetenedtruth @blackpinup22 @airis-paris14 @macgruberrrsimplyyamberr @blackpantherreblogs @wawakanda-btch @im5ftbutmythroat66 @vanitykocaine @iamrheaspeaks @aykanna @laketaj24 @letsshamelessqueen-m @leahnicole1219 @cutewylie @titty-teetee @mbaku-babygirl @turn-thy-paige @chefjessypooh @unicornbaby741

[petri808]

Fandom: ノラガミ | Noragami (Anime & Manga) Rating: Mature Relationships: Iki Hiyori/Yato

@noragamisecretsanta2018  Merry Christmas! @justebisuthings   Yatori angst with a fluffier ending.  I have no idea what city Noragami takes place in lol, so I just set this is Tokyo and nearby Kanagawa.  I guess you could set the timing of the story after the latest chapter.  I had fun writing this one so I hope you like it too :)

Echoed in the Night

It was Christmas Eve in Japan, but unlike in the west it was a day for couples…. Sharing a meal at KFC, maybe a Christmas Cake or some Wagashi…  Strolling along the park hand in hand amidst the lighted displays of the Sagamiko Illumillion….  But, for a lonely young girl saddened by the disappearance of her first true love, it was like her heart was being ripped to shreds by all the festivities surrounding her.

Bless his heart that Yukine had tried to cheer her up by taking her to see the show and ride the rides. He too missed the days when the trio would venture forth like a family, all smiles and laughter through the streets of Tokyo and its surrounding cities.  If it wasn’t for Heaven’s stupid wars or this ‘Father’ guys desire for its destruction, the young Regalia believed those moments wouldn’t be like a fleeting memory and ‘he’d be damned if he was gonna let it die just because Yato was too stupid to realize how much pain he was causing them by keeping them in the dark about it all,’ end quote.  

And so here is where she found herself, feeling like a third wheel behind Yukine and Nora who’d decided to come along.  They were kind of cute, Hiyori realized as the two children sat in the forward sky lift tittering and giggling to one another…. Oh, how sweet, now Nora had her head on the Yukine’s shoulder, and a blush no doubt flushed along his cheeks. Just wonderful, Hiyori glances away and focuses on all the lights gliding by below them.  As much as she wanted to support their increasing rapport, all Hiyori wanted to do was cry, scream, and run as far away as she possibly could.

Once the ride was over, Yukine points out the swings and Hiyori just smile’s hiding her true feelings from the boy.  “You guys go on ahead and have fun, I’m kind of tired of going on rides.”

“Are you sure Hiyori?” The concerned young man was hesitant to leave her side.

“Yeah, go have fun, show Nora what it’s like to be a kid,” the crinkling around her eyes seems to reassure him.  “I’d like to just relax here for a spell and look at the lights.”

“Okay,” he grabs Nora’s hand and heads off towards the swings.

Hiyori’s body deflates against the bench and she pulls the coat tighter around her frame.  The evening air was definitely cold, but it was the chill through her soul that left her freezing.  She closes her eyes, unwilling to allow any tears to be shed lest it reflect the icicles growing in her heart.  Yato….  Things were so much easier when she’d been blind to her budding love of the stray god.  Why did Kazuma have to dash her hopes like that!  At least Tenjin alluded to the possibilities of a god loving, like he did for Tsuyu.  Let Yato himself tell her he didn’t care for her!  Yato….  Where the hell are you!

~~    

Since late that afternoon he’d felt a powerful sting in his chest, like a thousand daggers running their blades through his flesh.  At first, he thought maybe Yukine was upset and blighting him again, but a quick check around his body revealed no tell-tale marks.  It wouldn’t have surprised him if Yukine had been behind the stings for he knew his young Regalia was very upset by his actions of late. Though the longer he thought about it, and the deeper the pains began to center in one location, maybe this was something completely different.

What day is it, Yato wondered as he travelled along the tops of the buildings, noticing a flurry of activities and lights near Midtown. Holiday’s didn’t mean much to him aside from all the delicious seasonal treats that abounded during this time, so of course he hadn’t realized today was December 24th.  Hundreds of couples of all ages were gathered on the streets, some with families, many without.  Aww, look at them, he first thought, I wonder if anyone has any wishes…. And that’s when it finally hits him…. The couples…  The families….  Yukine…. Hiyori….  

Another sting, worse than any before it stabs him with such ferocity, he almost falls off the powerline he’d been running along.  Yato drops to the ground, clutching his shirt above his heart.  Oh, Heaven’s, was this because of Hiyori!  Was she the cause of all the pain he was experiencing?  It was hard for a man who didn’t quite understand human emotions such as love.  He knew what it was, he wasn’t blind to it, in fact he was pretty sure that’s exactly what he’d been developing for the young human girl, but since he’d never been in love before, the idea that it could actually cause pain was enigmatic. Hiyori wasn’t a spirit he was attached to, so she couldn’t blight him.  Then how is she reaching out to me like this?              

“Are you okay?” Kazuma drops down beside his master.  “You don’t look so well, should we return to the shrine?”

“I think….” Yato turns to his friend, “I think I need to find Hiyori…”

“Hiyori, Yato I don’t think…”

“I’m sorry Kazuma, you head back to the shrine, but I need to find her!”  Another deep sting pierces through him and Yato buckles at the knees, cringing through the pain.

“You are not in any condition to travel, let’s just go back to…”

Yato grabs Kazuma’s ankle, “If you’re really my friend,” his voice strained from the searing pain in his heart, “you’ll help me find Hiyori now!”    

“Just call her or Yukine,” Kazuma helps Yato to his feet, helping to steady him, “or can you feel where Yukine might be?”

The stray god closes his eyes, “He’s not too far… if we take the train to Sagamiko station.  He won’t always answer my calls right now, but he texts me if he leaves the area…”  

~~

After an unknown amount of time, Hiyori finally glances up from the ground at her surroundings. Considering how brightly lit most of the area was, the young girl had barely given any of the attractions much attention.  It wasn’t worth it to take in a sight, only for a young couple around her age to walk by and dim the view.  At least if she looked at the ground, she wouldn’t notice the hands being held, the embraces being shared, or worse….

She shivers again, if only the memories of her first kiss wasn’t such a hurtful one.  Fujisaki had stolen what he had no right to take, but like an idiot, she had been too shocked and nervous to pull away.  Maybe if he’d been just another classmate it wouldn’t be as painful.  Ugh!  ‘Father’ knew the knowledge of stealing my first kiss would enrage his son and that just isn’t right!  I hate him!  Hiyori’s fists clench at her sides, she needed to do something to take her mind of…. everything.

Once a quick text was sent to Yukine so he didn’t worry, Hiyori heads down the path towards the illuminated forest hoping that all the bright colors would shine a bit of light into her otherwise dreary mood.  The dazzling LED’s covered trees in a rainbow of hues, even the ground was swathed in light so mesmerizing she had to shield her eyes or be blinded.  Reds, Orange, Yellows, Purples, Greens, and Pinks…  But strangely no blues.  

Through twists and turns, up slight inclines or valleyed displays, Hiyori continued along the forest path, following the signs towards the exit.  Rounding another bend, she reaches the famous tunnel of light, but the spectacle was not what made her pause.  Blue.  Light Blue.  Just like Yato’s eyes.  Heaven help her now she knew why the color had been devoid along the way!  There was no way to avoid passing through it unless she wanted to walk all the way back to the entrance.

Hiyori merely sighs and trudges forward, keeping her eyes low to the ground.  Pulling up the edges of her collar, Hiyori hides her peripheral view.  She should have guessed that the color would reveal itself sooner or later.  And why not to throw a wrench in her mood that had actually been a little better for the last 20 minutes or so…  the rest of her life was throwing her curve balls one after the other.

As the tunnel curves slightly, something catches her attention, a scent she’d not expected nor picked up in weeks and it was growing stronger with every step she took forward. Hiyori shakes her head, it must be her imagination.  Maybe there was a flower or plant nearby, or someone who just so happened to smell similar to him.  He’d had no reason to be in the park, didn’t know she’d be there… Right?  But as the exit appears, a shadowed outline of a man leaning against a pillar comes into view.  Her breathing stills, feet still moving forward despite reservations telling her to run in the opposite direction.  Fear that her mind was playing tricks on her run rampant.  No, it could be, it shouldn’t be….  Her hands raise up to cover the gasp she didn’t know she was making.  It was.

“Hi Hiyori,” Yato smiles weakly.  

It was obvious from the look on the young girls face that his appearance was triggering a multitude of emotions.  From surprise to anger, her blood begins to boil red hot!  This bastard disappears for weeks with no contact and suddenly appears with just a Hi Hiyori?  

“Is that all you have to say to me!” she screams uncaring of any onlookers.  “You leave me all alone then show up unexpectedly with just hi Hiyori!?   What about I’m sorry Hiyori, or better yet please forgive me Hiyori!”

He’d expected a bit of anger, but this girl was furious!  Yato flinches back a step, though he knew the pain in her heart wasn’t from anger.  Her fury was hiding the real emotion that had brought him there tonight.

“Please Hiyori,” he reaches out tentatively, “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”  She draws back causing a new ripple of stings to attack his body. Yato’s drops to his knees, keeling over in pain.  He was right, it was from Hiyori’s shattering heart.

But seeing the man she still cared so much about fall to the ground in anguish flips a switch in her brain. She was angry yes, sad and hurt most definitely, but she had no idea that those feelings were somehow being conveyed to him.  Was it because their fates had been entwined?  Tears flood her vision as Hiyori drops before him and throws her arms around his body.  “Oh Kamisama, am I doing that to you?  Yato I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you…”

“S-Stop apologizing Hiyori. It’s not your fault.  I don’t even understand why this is happening but it’s just… it’s not your fault.”  He cradles her face in his hands as the waves of painful stings slowly subside. “Everything that’s happening to you is all my fault.  If only I’d cut your ties immediately, none of this…”

“Don’t say it!” she shakes her head.  “Don’t you dare say it Yato!  If you had granted that first wish I never would have fallen in love with you, I never would have met Yukine, or Kofuku, or been a part of this amazing realm.  I don’t want to lose you!  Don’t you get it!”

“But you wouldn’t be sad right now, you’d be living a normal teenage life with your friends.”

“I don’t want a normal life!”  Hiyori slumps in his arms, sobbing heavily.  “I understand why you left us Yato…” her voice trailing and softened, “I know you are just trying to protect us and that you think it would be okay if you were reborn, but that’s not what we want…” She looks up and fixes his eyes upon hers, “we want you as you are now!”

“But Hiyori…”

“Could you just shut up for a moment Yato and let me process all of this.”

Yato opens his mouth to retort but quickly slams it shut.  She was right, he’d caused her enough grief, so the least he could do was let her vent and figure out how to deal with it all.  But as he glanced around and realized the spectacle they were making, he bundles her into his arms to find somewhere a little more private. Hiyori makes no move to resist, simply resting a hand on his shoulder and turning her face into his shawl.  

Once out of view of any onlookers, he makes a few leaps until he spots a secluded area along the waterfront just outside of the resort.  Hiyori takes out her phone, remembering that Yukine must be wondering where she might be.  “Don’t worry,” Yato puts her down and gently places a hand over it, “Kazuma went to find them.”  

A soft, “Oh,” is all she responds with and turns away to stare out over the water.  The far shores were ominous, but the lake itself was glistening from all the lights of the park.  It’s gently lapping waves shimmering, creating beautiful reflections like the stars above them.  Hiyori was still so confused about it all, her feelings, humans, spirits, gods, and all the rules that seemingly bound each world.  She was but one young girl just trying to navigate it all and she knew what her heart desperately wanted, but was that enough to somehow override everything that was working to keep them apart?  

He just stood back and let her settle into her skin.  This whole situation was something Yato had never in a thousand years has ever had to deal with, so he too was trying to process it all.  In fact, it was basically unheard of for a God to fall in love with a human, at least not romantically.  Sure, Gods cared for humans, Bishamon truly loved her Regalia’s, but they didn’t fall in love with them like he had for Hiyori.  There wasn’t any God he could even consult with over this predicament which left him to handle it all on his own.  Obviously, he wasn’t doing such a great job.

As he watched her eyes shutter through a light sigh, and the coat is pulled tighter against the chilly air, Yato moves in closer to wrap his arms around her waist.  She startles at first but the added warmth along with his scent calms her enough to settle against him.  This was the first time he’d held her like this and although awkward, it felt nice.  He closes his eyes too.  If only they were simply two humans bumbling their way through life and not star-crossed beings from separate worlds.  For a fleeting second, he almost wished he could just be human.  

Yato releases a vested sigh into her hair.  “I don’t know what to do Hiyori,” he finally relents and lets all the fears locked away in his mind pour out.  “I need to stop my father, I need to fight against Heaven’s stupidity, but all I really want to do is make you happy…  And I don’t know how to do it all without someone getting hurt.”  Another sigh escapes, “I’m so tired of people I care about getting hurt…”

Hiyori sucks in a breath and hesitates before placing her hands over his arms.  With an exhale, she squeezes, “I don’t know what to do either.” She tilts her head back slightly, resting it against his chest, “I wish I could say just let it all go, let Heaven deal with your father and we go back to the way things were before it all started…. But I know that’s not possible anymore. I wish I could say that pain is just a part of life and we just have to learn to deal with it…. But that wouldn’t be fair either when there is something that can be done.”  Hiyori let’s out a drawn-out exhale, “it’s selfish of me to force you to endure this just because I don’t want to let go…. But I can’t bring myself to severe our bond….  I don’t want to lose you…”

“I don’t want to lose you either Hiyori.”

Her eyes squeeze tight as a flood of emotions threaten to spill out.  She takes a shaky breath, “Yato…. What am I to you?  I-I mean, how do you feel towards me?  I need to just know the truth because everyone is telling me that Gods are incapable of…”

“Love,” he finishes her sentence, “I love you Hiyori.”  Yato buries his face into her hair.  “If there’s only one thing that I am sure of it’s that.  I don’t know what will happen….  Everything is so chaotic right now, but I don’t want to lose you either.”

“Then why is everyone saying God’s can’t love?”

“I don’t really care what everyone is saying,” he turns her around, “all I can know is what I’m feeling.” Yato tips her face up as a few drops of tears leak down her cheeks.  “Hiyori open your eyes,” she shakes her head.  He kisses the tears on either side of her face, “why won’t you open your eyes?”

“In case this is all just a dream, I don’t wanna wake up from it.”  Yato chuckles and pinches her cheek, “Hey!” her eyes fly open, “what was that for!”

“It’s not a dream.” Pulling her face up to meet his own, Yato presses his lips against hers in a soft kiss.  Hiyori freezes momentarily, the sudden warmth and knowledge that he was kissing her almost too much on her psyche.  But as his hands weave around her body, smoothing against the small of her back in comfort, her own encircles his neck, fingers lacing through his hair.  Small sighs and mewls of contentment, break the otherwise silence of the moment and remove any lingering doubts that what they were feeling were genuine.  

He wipes away any traces of moisture from around her eyes, placing chaste little kisses on her lips before pulling back to gaze upon the flushed young woman standing before him. Yato smiles sweetly, “you are so beautiful to me Hiyori.”

“Oh stop!” her cheeks growing ever more crimson and heated, “I’m sure you’ve met plenty of pretty girls over the years.”

“Yeah, but you’re the first one I fell in love with in a thousand years, that makes you pretty friggen special don’t ya think?”

“I…” Hiyori gives up, there was no way to respond to that!  

Yato just laughs, knowing he won that round.  He takes her hand, squeezing lightly, “come on let’s get you home.  I don’t need you catching a cold.”

“Where do we go from here?” she wonders aloud, “you’re just gonna disappear again aren’t you and leave Yukine and I in the dark again.”

He sighs, “I’m not doing it because I want to.  It’s to protect you both from father and from Heaven.  Kazuma is determined to fight no matter what I tell him, but you two…. It’s safer that you stay away.”

“Yukine is your blessed Regalia, surely…”

“Yukine means more to me than just some Regalia and that’s exactly why I don’t want him anywhere near my father if I can help it.  Father’s just too dangerous.”

“You’re talking about the God’s Secret thing?”

“Yea… how’d you know that?”

“I figured it out.”  Hiyori pulls Yato to a stop, “you need to realize we’re not stupid.  Why don’t you just try talking to us for once because not knowing anything only drives us to think the worst and end us up in predicaments like tonight.”

“But…” Yato exhales and hangs his head, “you’re probably right.”

Hiyori leans in, pulling his face down to rest his forehead to hers, “come on, let’s go get Yukine and go back to Kofuku’s.  We’ll sit down and figure this out as a family.”

Yato closes his eyes, Heaven’s was he really deserved of this girl?  “I’m so sorry I ruined your Christmas Eve.”

She smiles and pats his cheek, “You managed to make it up to me in the end.  Now let’s go home…”

KFC & Wagashi info https://favy-jp.com/topics/1421

Sagamiko Illumillion info https://www.japan.travel/en/spot/1606/