#to the point where feeling for her is like feeling eternity in a soap bubble

[eye-scream-girls]

I saw your post about a "her", and I just wanted to come here and say, that you are not alone in this. I think feeling so deeply is such a gift, and whoever you are talking about is very lucky you're alive, I am sending you all the love.

This is such a genuinely sweet ask, thank you 💜

[ruindunburnit]

Just saw Wicked Part 1 (again)! Here's another thought:

(WARNING: Spoilers for the film)

Did anyone else hear the film version of 'Defying Gravity' and hear a nod to Strauss's 'Also Sprach Zarathustra', right at the very end?

I know, I know, "Kevin, you dumb bitch, it's just Stephen Schwartz taking liberties with the percussion."

I mean, yes, totally.

But also (said Kevin) wouldn't it be so perfect if it is a reference?

See, Also Sprach Zarathustra ("Thus Spoke Zarathustra") is a tone-poem composed by Strauss, inspired by the philosophical novel by Friederich Nietzsche.

For those who don't know, this novel is one of Nietzsche's theses on Nihilism. (See the very short video below for a quick refresher on what that is).

In the novel, Zarathustra is a hermit (often compared to the Zoroaster of old) who descends from his cave to tell people that the God they have been worshipping is dead; there is no "inherent meaning" to life and no God to appease, no purpose but to create meaning for yourself and leave behind better people than yourself (or, "übermensch"). Over the course of the novel, he re-ascends and re-descends from his cave in between periods of solitude, to build upon his teachings and deal with his enemies, including the people who distort his teachings, and the spirit of gravity (who is defeated by Zarathustra's teaching on eternal recurrence - see the video below:)

In the final part, a soothsayer predicts he will be tempted into feeling compassion for this "higher man" -- actually men, who each exemplify but a part of the higher man -- heralded by a lion and a flock of doves. Upon the prophecy coming true, Zarathustra returns once more to his cave, deciding thus that his work is his only concern, and ever will be.

That is, if this is an intended reference, then we are seeing Elphaba's life echoed back: her periods of solitude, coming from a home in a constant state of disconnect from the people who are supposed to love her but only treat her as a burden, and so forcibly divorced from the part of her that deeply cares for other people and wants them to care for her too (because what's the point of loving them if you assume their love was never yours to begin with?), that all falls right on in. Sure.

But let's dig deeper. In this moment, she is an exceptional woman with power beyond imagining and finally at home with who she is, only finally being acknowledged for her worth because a great and powerful Wizard (worshipped by the masses) can use it for his own terrible purposes. Were she the woman she was just minutes before, this could have been a dream come true, her heart's desire, Santa Claus released from his soap bubble and bringing all her Christmases at once.

The only problem is, she's seen behind the curtain now: the Wizard is just a man, a fraud, and he has no real power to speak of. And because he has dictated the meaning of everything to the people, what else will they do but take the meaning he gives them? If he says a green girl is a traitor and terrorist, who are they to argue?

But Elphaba must. God is dead, she is but one woman burdened with her life and her responsibility and no way out of it; there is no meaning but what she makes for herself. She is not the only one who has make this leap; Fiyero has too, but where he chooses to do nothing, offer nothing, dance as much as he can without making a ripple as a passive nihilist, Elphaba is not satisfied with that. She chooses to make something real of it, take a stand for the meaning she creates, for she is the active nihilist, making a better world for Animals, defying gravity itself.

"Boy, that sounds like a reach." Yes, I hear you. You might be saying, "You just remember those beats from 2001: A Space Odyssey, because it was played during the beginning scene with the hominids."

Yes, but that is also my point. In that scene, the hominids' interactions with the monolith allowed them to discover tools, to discover their own brilliance and make that incredible leap forward, to at last reach that boundary line where meet the fallen angel and the rising ape: humanity.

Here is the scene itself:

They evolved, just as Chistery did when Elphaba gave him and his fellow Monkeys wings and the power of flight with it, just as Elphaba did when she attained the Grimmerie and the power of flight for herself. If not becoming the übermensch herself, she took her first steps there.

Which is to say, if this is just a coincidence, and Schwartz didn't mean to invoke the parable of Zarathustra the nihilist in Elphaba's reclamation of her power and herself, then... damn. Good thing I stretched first, because I think I stuck the landing on a damn good coincidence!

[the-fiction-witch]

NERD!!

REAL LIFE: SCANDAL COUPLE: TBS X READER RATING: FUNNY

"Hellooooo Bluooo... uhhh what rymthes with blue thomas?" Y/n asks sat on her sofa fixing her make up

"Uhhhh... screw? achoo? Emume?" He answers off camera

"Ohhh emume. I like those... they had a war"

"They did." He says as she put her make up away and he handed her a cup of tea before sitting beside her with his own cup "Also shoe?"

"Thank you for supplying me with rhymes"

"You're welcome, Are we going to film the video now?"

"You film the video"

"make me Biiitttchhh"

"Fuck you Thomas"

"That an insult or your to do list?" he smirked

"You are.. just in a fucking mood today aren't you? what is this mood you get in? Sassy Thomas? Bitchy? I don't know. this state where you just fucking roast me all day"

"Go on then y/n your the one wasting your camera battery"

"... I will pour this scolding tea on your head"

"Go ahead my motorbike helmet is open faced and I have hit the ground so many times I have very little feeling in my head anymore"

"I didn't mean the head atop your neck Thomas" she warned he then glanced down at his belt "Yeah that one"

"I'll be good" He answered having his tea

"Yeah you will bitch boy"

"What are we doing today?"

"Yes! we are doing more Internet Questions. By which I mean I found a random tag thing and now we are gonna answer dumb questions"

"We should have had wine for this"

"why didn't you say that suggestion ten minuets ago. that's a great idea" she complained "Fuck it! I'm already sat"

"I'm really not helpful today?"

"You are not." she sighed "How do you want people to deal with your body when you die?" she asks "That's a loaded first question"

"It is."

"This isn't really a question for you becuase... your immortal"

"I'm not immortal y/n"

"You haven't aged since you where fucking nineteen!"

"I aged"

"You grew facial hair that's different. that's not aging that's just refusing to shave"

"True. Took me six months. and I loved it"

"Yeah then I waxed it off because you looked like a 70's porn star"

"Bow chika wow wow" he laughs

"I will shove a fucking cactus up your ass now answer the question"

"Burn me. and shoot me off into space... I will be very happy"

"Yeah that does sound fun, you could become part of a planet, or explore forever"

"Yeah it sounds fun, maybe I'll find a black hole and get reborn?"

"I don't get that"

"Space Oddessy y/n"

"That's nerd shit"

"The best Sci fi film of all time"

"Nerd! shit!" she laughs "I wanna be turned into a tree. that's a thing they can burry you basically in a seed and then your decay fertilizes the tree as it grows, so I can make oxygen for the planet, and maybe be a home to some squirrels,  like an eco system around me and I'll be happy"

"awww that's sweet"

"But if that doesn't work out and the planet is too fucked by the time I die. Fuck it I'll come float around space and annoy you for all eternity"

"Will you just like start every day with the star trek opening?"

"Yes. Yes I will For all time" she laughs "next! What is your favourite mug?"

"Not this one. The uhh the funny one"

"The my dick's not small you have a large Virginia mug?"

"Yes. I like that"

"this one is mine" she smiled holding up a big sculpted mug of a sloth mama hugging a baby sloth "Because sloths"

"sloths."

"You're like a sloth?"

"why because I'm too lazy for my own good?"

"No because your hair is full of gross stuff"

".... bitch fuck you."

"Fuck you too" she laughs "next! What is your favourite pair of socks?"

"May I go get them?"

"Yes..." she sighs It then cut back and they both had socks in there hands "These are mine they are fuzzy and they have penguins on and the penguin has a scarf on, and they have little bits on the bottom so there socks but they still grip"

"They are good, you have kicked me while wearing those and it was very plush and soft"

"Yours?"

"I have socks with the star wars text crawl on them" He smiled

"You colossal Nerd!"

"I love them!"

"NERD!!" she laughs "do they actually have all of it"

"Yes they do"

"are you sure? they could have missed a line"

"I would know if they missed a line y/n"

"Do you legit know it like off by heart"

"yes I do"

"... You fucking nerd." she sighed "Did you get them at tall darth and handsome?"

"What no? where's that? I wanna go there"

"Are you serious right now? You don't get that?"

"No"

"You fucker you where in it!"

"I was?"

"Phineas and Ferb star wars special. the thing you went on about for fucking months! because got to be a sith"

"Ohh yeah..."

"To anyone watching I will be crucifying Thomas in my garden after this video so feel free to come over and whip his bitch ass"

"Don't tell people to whip me"

"Why not?

"Because.... internet" He says "Don't tell the world to whip me"

"Why not? I thought you were into that?"

"Y/n!"

"what?"

"Nooooo... I am not"

"Aren't you?"

"No."

"I kinda wanna do a video were we go though your house and just put everything star wars themed in a box just to show you the root of the problem"

"It's not a problem"

"Shirts, socks, your bath duck, the egg timer, The blanket under your bed, the lightsaber on your bedroom wall, The bubble bath, the Toaster, the ice cubes, The Massive poster on your landing, the star wars candles! literal candles that smell like fucking space ships!" she lists "and that's just off the top of my head.... Thomas?"

"... I have star wards hand soap now in my bathroom"

"You are in your thirties!"

"Say what you will, Millennium falcon smells amazing"

"It does. But that doesn't change my anger around you owning it as a candle"

"jealous"

"Okay ... If you could have any superpower what would you have?"

"Uhhhh teleportation"

"why?"

"I'll never have to pay for the tube again"

"Good point"

"Or a plane?"

"Or deal with rush hour"

"Or pay for my car"

"Or your bike?"

"No, no I will keep my bike"

"But you can teleport?"

"Yeah but bike is for fun"

"Alright, Uhhh I think that I would want invisibility, Or the power to make someone cum if I poke them. Because you could get out of so much with that. You could rob a bank with that. you could never loose a fight"

"You are so evil."

"fun though" she smiled "Poke" she laughs poking his cheek

"No no no outta here with your magic cum hands"

"That's what she said" she laughs

"No."

"I think you said that earlier actually Thomas"

"God damn it y/n, No. No I'm done" He says getting up and going off screen

"what? Come on"

"Don't tell People on the internet what I'm into!"

"Ohh come on Thomas, this is the next video! where we go though the box under your bed"

"Oohh hell no!"

[shinymooncolor]

hey! you don’t have to answer this, but i know close to nothing about hockey and my family and i have never really watched it and i’m starting to get very interested, but i have no idea where to start 😅 what do you think i should focus on first, as a newbie? what should i absolutely know as a fan? what teams are pretty good in your opinion? again, thanks for your help if ever you see this p.s: i really love your posts and they bring a smile to me face, so thank you for your hard work! <3

Hi!

Ohhh well. First of all. Welcome to the nerve wracking, nail biting, jaw clenching, gut wrenching, heartbreaking and utterly incredible world of (ice) hockey. Angry muscle machines on skates chasing a tiny rubber puck in the nhl and their goddess equivalents in wnhl - what’s not to love?

You’ve decided on a hell of a year to join. Due to Covid, the normal system was paused and a recent bubble playoffs series played and later won by Tampa Bay Lightning a few weeks ago. The new season would’ve begun last week but is currently expected to start around December.

I’d say the best starting point would be to watch some games - YouTube has a lot of highlights, game compilations etc. and browse hockey tumblr. Hockey tumblr is a great combination of hockey gossip, game reviews, fans sharing their love, passion and (hateful) opinions about players, clubs and the sport in general.

My personal team faves are a handful - you see, the league is “split” into two conferences - east and west and within here a few other divisions dictating who the teams will play on a more recent basis. The clubs in the nhl being split over North America and Canada means a lot of ground to cover and therefore it’s split like this - time zones, distance and whatever. So maybe decide on a conference first? East or west.

I’m an eastern conference gal meself, but the west sure has its merits too.

So. Teams. You’re about to start a rumble here 😂

I am a personal fan of the Pittsburgh Penguins 🐧 they play good hockey, in spite of their idiot general manager (I’ve got posts detailing why he’s an ass hat extraordinarie). They’re captained by Canada’s hockey savior, Sidney Crosby: hockey robot, yellow crocs enthusiast , triple gold member (youngest captain to get all three?) and the goodest boy in the league. He’s been heralded as the next great one yada yada since he was about 5? And shot pucks into a dryer back in Canada - with that came a lot of shit for the poor guy who, in his own words, just wants to play hockey. And he’s good. He’s got his team of French Canadian d-men (letang, dumo), a whole lot of goalie drama which seems to be a pattern and his Russian (husband) assistant captain Evgeni Malkin who’s got the cutest kid, a really cool wifey (seriously her insta is 10000 better than geno’s own) and a wicked sense of humor which he conviently hides behind his “English big bad today” excuse to avoid media on a daily basis (he’s played this card since his wild escape and temporary defection from Russia back in 2006) seriously google it. It’s wild. They’ve won three cups since 2009, they’re contenders in the playoffs most years and their pr department provides some hilarious videos of captain Canada and his Russian (husband) A. It’s a true love story. Sue me. We’ve got an intense rivalry with philly and the caps. Seriously. That orange flyers jersey is intense - even if philly’s mascot is the next president.

Funnily enough, my strange obsession with Russian hockey players have led to the most disturbing but developing club crush on the Washington capitals who are the penguins’ nemesis.

I mean, this club led by the one and only gr8 8 mr Alexander Ovechkin is a rollercoaster of emotion and hot daddies in skates armed with sticks and a murder Swede.

So. Washington caps used to be a joke in the league until they went and drafted mr ovechkin first overall, brought him to the capital and let him do his thing. He’s got a rep for being a hell of a lot of fun on the ice (if you’re on his team) and one of those players that people love to hate (even if they can’t take away how freakishly good he is at hockey) - look up his impossible goal(s)! He’s an exuberant, fun loving Russian with a heart of gold and a missing tooth. In 2007, the caps went shopping for a center just for ovi who needed a playmaker and a slap shot feeeder - they went and drafted the Swedish angel (maybe assassin) (Lars) Nicklas Backstrom - and the purest hockey marriage was forged. The actual words (we needed a center for ovi and ovi wanted backstrom) have been said. Yes, these two Are now famously the mama and papa of the caps and they have a roster of unruly (and handsome) hockey babies with the fighting menace Tom Wilson, bird impersonator and Russian cat Evgeni Kuznetzov and a whole army of other adorable (albeit hockey playing menaces) babies. Most recently they had the leagues daddiest daddy goalie Mr Holtbeast as the fun and handsome canadien cowboy uncle but he’s ventured to Vancouver to adopt a new group of hockey babies. To compensate, the caps went shopping in New York and brought the one and only king Henrik from the crease in msg to be the goalie mentor for baby Russian caps goalie and to keep the daddy energy flowing.

(Seriously why are Swedish players part time models? Their national team strategy is to be so handsome the other teams are distracted. It’s a thing. Look it up)

I also love a handful of other players on other teams (I really don’t dislike any team in particular - but you’ll meet some dedicated and strong minded fans here)

Erik Horse Johnson, Cale Makar and Nikita Zadorov (Colorado Avs - zad have recently been traded to the blackhawks (not sure how I feel about that). Phwucking fun team. Who needs teeth anyways.

Marc Andre Fleury (Vegas now but hell always be a penguin to me)

The Russian gang in Tampa - and giant Swede victor Hedman (seriously he’s massive)

The canes (Carolina) and their collective of Finnish and Russian babies (aho, svech) with chaotic Marty and former penguin Baby Staal as captain

And a whole lot of others too. It’s hard to choose.

The Dallas stars and the most precious bean of them all (Russian) dobby - Anton khudobin their backup goalie turned playoffs hero and fashion icon. The man said we’re not going home and threw the entire team on his back and dragged them to the final. And their homoerotically charged captain and his alt captain and their Hollywood epic soap worthy relationship. Stallions, people, Stallions...

Btw we like to project our brash queerness onto this league. You’ll learn why quickly. There’s only so much talks about hot hands, slick moves, eternal love for teammates and quite frankly obscene (sexy) amounts of kneeling, roughing (let’s face its it’s just aggressive cuddling) and teammates honorably defending teammates.

Anyways. I love hockey. He. Sorry.

Fun fact I’ve dragged @canesinthecrease kicking and screaming into the hellhole that is the caps and I’m working on convincing @dontpuckwithme about the incredibly sexy thing that is Russians and Canadians being secretly married in Pittsburgh.

Great, sexy, amazing, cool, smart and wonderful hockey ladies to follow for even more amazing content on more clubs (the hurricanes - also a team I’m starting to love). They’re my queer sherpas and emotional support network.

Hope you can use this dear (new) hockey friend and mutual 💖🐧

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

Being Human - Chapter 10

<= Chapter 09

Summary : Snatcher discovers the joys of a good shower for the first time in centuries. Warning for this chapter : body dysmorphic disorder. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826561/chapters/63549673

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Another chapter, yay ! I'm still having trouble fighting my writer block but I'm glad I managed to finish this chapter. I hope you'll like it !

The “Oh The Humanity” AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings​ !

Happy reading !

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Chapter 10 - “Wh- I’m sorry, what??”

The little girls had brought the ghost to what apparently was the bathroom. Apparently, because it certainly didn’t look like one to Snatcher. Sure, the last time he had seen a bathroom was centuries ago, sure he knew there were some obvious cultural barriers between the kid and him… And yet, his mind had a hard time to comprehend what he was currently seeing.

The shade was now alone in the “bathroom”. Said room seemed to have some kind of marine theme, with several portholes in the walls here and there, some drawer and cupboard handles being seashells and starfishes, some lamp having conch forms… The floor had blue and white squared tiles and the walls had the same colours, displaying some waves and ships patterns. Some plushies could be seen above the cabinets. Next to him, he could see the same kind of pedestal than in the hub, this time displaying some kind of flying machines, abducting cows. What was that? He rose an eyebrow as he wondered, more than confused. Snatcher felt like each room he found out about in that spaceship of theirs always was somewhat disconcerting for him. Okay, well, extremely disconcerting, if he had to be honest.

His eyes scanned the room and fell on an unfamiliar object, surrounded by dirty clothes. It looked like a huge box, filled with water and a lot of bubbles coming out of it. It smelled good, but he couldn’t help but squint as he approached it, the smell hurting his sensitive nose and eyes. The former ghost immediately took a few steps backwards. Whatever that thing was, it was clear that he wouldn’t get near from it again before a while.

The shade explored the room further and found some towels he could use. As for where he would bath… Well, there was no bathtub to begin with, which only left the big cylindrical cabin he had used to enter the room in the first place. He peeped inside and his suspicions were confirmed as soon as he saw the shower head as well as several soap bottles. This made no sense. This made absolutely no sense to him. A frown appeared on his face as he examined the inside of said cabin further. There were a few buttons in there, one of which who seemed to lock the second door leading to what had seemed to be the machine room. Well, according to the kids, it was, so who was he to contest them? He pressed it hesitantly and felt somewhat relieved when he saw that it indeed seemed to close the door, a mechanical sound echoing inside the door. The button lightened up in a red light, showing that the command had worked.

Well, maybe he could do this.

He stepped out of the shower and looked at himself, his frown intensifying. If he wanted to take a shower… He would need to take his clothes off, wouldn’t he? He shut his eyes at the thought. He didn’t want to see himself naked, this would be the worst humiliation he would get in his situation… But then again, staying dirty was out of the question for him as well… He had to make a choice, and he knew which one would be his final one.

With an exhausted sigh, he leaned on a nearby wall and started to undress, slowly. He kept his eyes closed, wishing to avoid looking at his body as much as possible. His movements were clumsy and unsurprisingly awkward, but who could blame him? He hadn’t touched any piece of clothing in hundreds of years, after all! After what seemed like an eternity, Snatcher lowered the only thing that was left on his body: his underwear, which he blindly dropped on the ground. He couldn’t help but grimace at the very idea of being naked, unprotected by anything. He could feel the air caressing his skin in places he was even less used to. Snatcher gritted his teeth and shook his head. The faster he showered, the faster he could put on some clothes again.

Speaking about clothes… He didn’t have any new ones, did he? He supposed that made sense, it would even be worrying for kids to have adults clothes when they were the only ones aboard… He just hoped he could soon get rid of those awful clothes.

They brought back too many bad memories to him.

The former ghost lifted his head and opened his eyes again, making sure not to glance at his lower body. Carefully, he entered the shower and closed the door behind him. A small light switched on as soon as both doors were closed around him and Snatcher gulped. Everything happening from there would be completely new to him. With much hesitation, he looked at the different buttons, whishing he had asked for help before the kids left him on his own. He tried to pull himself together: it was just a shower, how hard could it get?

He took a deep breath… And pressed the first button. As soon as his fingers left said button… A noise came from the ceiling and before the former ghost even had the chance to lift his head in its direction… A spurt of cold water hit his body, making him jump at the sudden and foreign sensation.

-“Oh, damn it, damn it!” he yelled, sticking his back to one of the doors in order to avoid the water. His muscles hurt from the sudden movements, but the adrenaline made him a bit unaware of the pain. He took a few seconds to breath in and out, slowly processing what had just happened.

Okay, so this button was for the showerhead hidden in the ceiling. Fine, cool, now he was making progress. He sighed and extended his hand to the commands, intrigued by a button with a plus sign on top of it. He pressed it several times and… Was pleasantly surprised to see that the temperature of the water was changing for something warmer. For the first time in hours, a genuine smile took its place on his lips: finally, he had finally some control over his situation!

With more determination, Snatcher continued to press it until the water was hot enough for him. It took him a bit to get used to the sensation of water running along his body, but it was nice. He let out a sigh as he couldn’t help but close his eyes. He felt like he hadn’t felt that in ages, Gods. His mind was silent for once, letting him enjoy the shower for as long as he could. After a few minutes, he tried to pull himself together: he was there to wash, not stay under the water spray for hours.

His eyes scanned the bottles of soap on the shower shelves, squinting until he realized he just couldn’t read what they were saying. Of course, alien stuff, thus alien language. He pinched his nose, taking a deep breath. Well, time to use his instincts again. What difference did it make at this point? The shade picked up one of the bottles and opened it. He approached it from his nose, inhaling the smell coming out from it… Only to almost drop it.

Gods, the scent was horrid.

He felt himself gagging, something he wished to never feel again, and quickly closed the bottle again, putting it back on the shelf as soon as possible. Whatever was in that bottle… He was not going to smell that ever again.

With more hesitation, he picked the next few bottles, reattempting the experience once more. He was prepared to go through the same awful thing than before, but was pleasantly surprised when he smelled something nice for a change. Although, he was absolutely unable to describe any of the scents, most of them being so… Foreign to him. It reminded him of some fruity smells, but nothing more than that. Surely something coming from the little girls’ home planet.

With some moderation, the former ghost took some of it, using the product to wash. Gods, the action felt so foreign… Even though the hot water felt nice on his skin, the feeling of his own hands having to rub his entire body was not something he enjoyed. It was even more difficult considering the fact that he had promised himself not to look at anything lower than his waist for, well, obvious reasons. Being dead for years and not having a human appearance for so long made him more than ashamed of his body now. However, with a lot of resolve and stubbornness… The man managed to do a somewhat decent job at rubbing the dirt off himself. It took him a while, but as long as it eventually ended up working, there was no problem, right?

Once he felt clean enough, the resurrected spirit fiddled with the shower commands and managed to turn off the shower head after a few tries. This was much more difficult than the usual taps he knew in bathtubs! And, well, he was almost certain that things had changed a lot since then, even on his own home planet. At this thought, he couldn’t help but be nervous: how many things would he have to learn or even relearn? He didn’t belong to this time, to this day and age. If he had trouble with a simple shower, even if he succeeded in using it, what would it be for more complicated stuff?

This was not something he wished to think about.

He reopened the door of the shower, extending his hand to one of the first towels he could grab. Before he even got the chance to dry himself, he heard some knocks on the other bathroom door, making him jump from the surprise. He let out a yelp and almost slipped to the floor, his feet not keeping him stable under the wet tiles of the shower. His heart was pounding in his chest and his breathing quickened immediately, his eyes instantly focusing on the door as a little voice came through it:

-“Hey, Snatcher, you okay in there?” echoed in the bathroom. It was the hatted brat, her voice worried. She soon added to explain her presence behind the door: “It’s been a good hour now, everything’s alright?”

She made another pause and then asked:

-“I heard you screaming, still alive?”

The man remained silent for a few moments, still trying to breathe in and out calmly. Gods, why was he so jumpy… He heard new knocks on the door after his lack of response, those much faster and urgent than the previous ones:

-“Hey, uh, hello? You better reply or I swear I will knock the door down,” she warned, before saying to herself, much quieter: “please don’t make me do that, for peck’s sake, I don’t want to see anyone naked today. Not ever, in fact.”

That made him react and he took a deep breath, pinching his nose as he replied, irritated:

-“Yeah, yeah, I’m- I’m still here,” he could feel another headache coming. Gods, and here he thought he would have a break… Well, he definitely thought too soon. He sighed and kept going, groaning: “Why do you need so many buttons for a shower?”

He heard the little girl giggling on the other side and, weirdly enough, he found himself to smile. As soon as he realized it, he quickly made it disappear. There was nothing to be happy about in his situation, so why would he smile? This was just so stupid!

-“How many buttons did yours have?” retorted the brat, cutting his thoughts short, as if it were a competition.

-“Well, two, duh! One for cold water and the other for hot water! Why would you make it so complicated?! It’s just a shower!”

The hatted child laughed louder and he couldn’t help but let out a few giggles as well, against his better judgement. It lasted for a few moments before the kid started to talk again, trying to remain a bit more serious:

-“Okay, so anyway, you’re still alive… Cookie arrived a while ago with Bow. She brought back a few old clothes she had kept in one of her closets. So, yeah, I put the bag in front of the door, so you can take it and choose what fits you the best, I guess,” she explained, before adding: “But wait until I’m out of the room first!”

The young man closed his eyes, frustrated with her attitude: “Of course I will, who do you take me for?”

Silence was his only answer for a while… Until the brat spoke again:

-“Wait,” she said: “Were you naked all this time back when you were dead? Can ghosts be naked?”

The question took the previous ghost completely aback and he stared at the door, bewildered.

-“Wh- I’m sorry, what??” he stuttered, absolutely offended by her questions. As for the kid, she just laughed loudly and mischievously, fleeing the room, apparently more than satisfied of her own joke. Stupid brat, he swore he would make her pay as soon as he got back his spectral form.

… A form that was definitely not naked!

He took another deep breath, forcing his mind to focus on the present. He eyes his old clothes, negligently lying around on the floor. He couldn’t deny the wave of relief he felt at the idea of finally throwing those old things away… They were associated with a time he didn’t want to remember.

Yeah. Some new clothes would be good.

A loud noise echoed in the room, making Snatcher jump again, only for him to realize it was coming from his own stomach. He cringed at the sound and at the weird sensations he was feeling inside of him… But it was a clear enough signal.

It was time to leave the bathroom and finally eat something. However, somehow… The man did not look forward to it.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Welp, at least the shower was not an entirely bad experience--

Thank you so much for all your support ! It means so much to me, you have no idea ! All your reactions make my days ten times better !

(you may have or may have not noticed, but I started to change the words I use to refer to Snatcher in this chapter... Well, it may or may not be linked to him starting to have a better opinion on his current situation, even if not by much :)c  )

=> Chapter 11

[madlymiho]

Hi!!! It’s me again! I’m so excited for this. And I’m here this time to fulfilled my from the last time!!! So would it’s be ok for you to make a scenario of NSFW fem!s/o with corason💕💕💕 like she was trying to take a bath with our little cute Law but he strongly refused(of-cause). So she took a bath later alone but then Corasan came in.....💕💕💕

Hello there... It seems someone is naughty?? 👀😉 Oooh darling, that was a pleasure to come back to my writing schedule with that tender and hot lemon thing! ~

Hope this will suit youuuuu ~ 🧡

Warning : NSFW

Words: 2180

Corazon Scenario : A moment with you (read after the cut)

“Name, are you in there?” He wishes he could say loudly. 

She has been missing for a little while. She didn’t show up to dinner, despite the general order to gather whenever they have a free time to share a moment all together. Corazon looked her empty chair with concerned eyes ; it’s not in her habit to miss that kind of moment. After some investigation, he also discovered that Law refused to bath today. The young boy gasped that it would be gross to have a shower with a grown-up, and since Corazon knows pretty much what kind of mother-like affection she has for him, he was sure that Law was mentioning you in his long speech about what an adult should or shouldn’t do with a kid. So when everyone left for their regular occupations, he quickly rushed to the bathroom and knocked on the door. 

When Corazon is finally there, waiting for an answer coming from inside, he makes sure that no one around is there to hear him ; after all, all the Donquixote’s family, except Law and her, doesn’t know about his secret. When he’s certain that the corridor his empty, he clicks his fingers, creating an invisible bubble to cover his voice, hoping that despite the wall, she would hear him.

“Name?” He tries again, unsure. 

He puts his ear against the door and eventually hears some quiet splashing coming from inside, but no one is inviting him in. Slowly, as he clears his throat, he opens the door. He immediately smiles, noticing her sleeping face in her bubble bath, eyes shut, and breathing heavy. He enters and closes the door behind him, making sure that he’s not too noisy ; he doesn’t want to wake her up from her well deserved nap. Yet, he can’t help but let his stare wandering on her body, her soft and appetizing curves hidden under the milky water as a silent invitation for him to come closer. It’s enough to give him a naughty idea ; after all, the two of them need your moments, from time to time, and it’s the perfect occasion. 

Quickly, Corazon gets rid of his entire pieces of clothing, putting them on a chair, perfectly aware that two bodies in a bathtub could make some good damages in the room. Naked, he crosses the distance between him and the tub. He almost slips on the floor once or twice, biting his bottom lip not to let lose a powerful gasp. Fortunately, it seems that she’s too heavily asleep to notice his everlasting clumsiness. Eventually, Corazon digs into the tepid water, placing himself behind her, his large hand fondling her belly. He feels that her skin reacts to his presence, covered in goosebumps, perhaps also because it’s a bit chilly inside the tub now. Carefully, his extends his large hand to reach the tap, purring hot water to warm the bath. 

“Mmmh…” She moves slowly, cracking on eye open to look up and notice that she’s not alone anymore. “Cora?” 

“Hello there…,” he answers with his eternal reassuring smile, dropping a tender kiss on her nose. “Seems like someone was too tired to join us for dinner.” 

His voice, husky, but soft like honey, makes her shiver from the top of her head to her tiptoes. She nods, her fingers brushing his forearm.

“Law didn’t want to bath with me earlier, so I waited to have some calm to wash myself, and… Well.” She shrugs, and presses her head against his large torso. “Did you miss me?” 

He chuckles, his free hand brushing her jawline, his thumb coming up to wander on her upper lip for a moment. 

“I miss you all the time when you’re not around, Name.” 

Somehow, his voice sounds deeper, urgent. She blinks for a second, her irises meeting his brown eyes, ; it’s enough to sets her mind on fire. Slowly, she moves, putting herself on her knees as she faces him, revealing her naked breasts, the soap lazily slipping on her wet skin, her bottom remaining the only part of her covered by the water. Corazon hums, his stare following her features, until both of their eyes meet again, this time, the same lusty spark gleaming in the back of them. He clicks his fingers again, her stare already telling him that she understands what he just meant with this particular gesture. 

“Cora…” She whispers with a desperate voice, feeling his hand sliding down on her neck, until he grabs her nape and pulls her into a tender kiss. 

One hand resting on her hip, the other one maintaining her neck, Corazon kisses her hungrily, opening his mouth to feel her tongue and dance with it. He feels all his blood suddenly boiling inside his veins, her presence alarming every of his sense. He needs her. Cruelly. He wants to feel everything from her, but he also knows that he needs to remain careful, and not too hurry. She’s not that tall, she can’t stretch herself to the infinite despite what she’s sometimes assuring… She needs to be prepared for him, and for that, Corazon has always been the most patient man in the world. So with his everlasting easy pace, his hand resting on her hip moves and comes between her legs, tenderly massaging her core. 

“Cora… God…” She desperately breathes as she parts her lips, her fingers catching his wrist to escort his movements. 

He smiles and hides his face in the crook of her neck, his thumb pressed against her clit, two fingers brushing her entrance. He knows exactly where to find her weak spot in her neck, that sensitive part on her skin that makes her shiver strongly. She makes a step forward, her legs slightly quivering, her fingers playing with his golden and messy locks. He abandons her neck for a second, looking up to see the ravages on her features, and the beautiful complexion created by her pleasure. She smiles, her mouth slightly opens, as she slides her fingers against his cheek to erase his makeup. He lets her reveal his real identity, forgetting everything about Corazon, his role and his mission, his digits still tenderly preparing her core, massaging her clit, until she entirely gets rid of his makeup. 

“You look so pure…” She whispers, gazing at his features. “An angel…” 

“Am I really that pure, to make you feel this way?” He growls with a little smirk, his fingers suddenly entering inside her core, his mouth sucking on her nipple. 

She trembles hard, so hard that she almost falls in the bathtub, her fingernails scratching his shoulders, Corazon’s pace increasing on her clit. He knows exactly how to make her feel good, so loved. He starts to scissor his slender digits inside of her, his free hand cupping her breast, his tongue expertly teasing her pointing nipple. He seems to be everywhere, and before she can control herself, she bursts into a deep and intense orgasm, her core twitching around his fingers, as he stills coming in and out of her pussy. 

“I like when you’re noisy like this…” He blushes furiously, realising her nipple in a wet pop. “I’m so lucky…”

He gently puts pressure on her hips, forcing her to turn around, his mouth travelling a little while on her back, his hands playing with her breasts. 

“What are your intentions?” She asks almost innocently, before she feels the pressure of his hands back on her hips. 

“Sit on my lap.” He orders tenderly, the both of them placing themselves in the tub. 

Once she’s secured on his lap, he rolls an arm around her shoulders, her back resting against his torso, his other hand parting her legs. More quickly than before, he slides three fingers in, his teeth nibbling her earlobe, before she turns her head to kiss him desperately. He opens her for a moment, too afraid to speed up their intercourse and hurts her with his massive cock. But Corazon feels that she wants more. She’s almost grinding on his hard cock, the head of it sometimes bumping against her entrance. Corazon parts their lips and looks at her. 

“You want it?” He questions with a husky voice, before he licks the tip of her nose. “I can stop if you don’t want to go any further, I know it’s late and you were already asleep…” 

“Of course I want it, idiot…” She blushes hard, her fingers brushing his hand down there. 

Corazon only growls, quickly grabbing his cock to guide it against her entrance, pushing on his hips to adjust their position, and eventually penetrate her. Despite the water, she’s perfectly wet, and it takes less than a second for him to enter her fully. He hums, nibbling her neck, her narrowness always so overwhelming for him. He starts to thrust, first adopting an easy pace, one hand grabbing her thigh to keep them apart, the other one playing with her nipples. She breathes heavily, eyes closed, always looking for his neck or his jaw to kiss it, encouraging to increase his pace with soft and comfortable moans. He has never hurt her before, but she feels terribly full with his cock, and she knows it’s better to keep it slow until she’s entirely ready.

“More…” She finally groans, the water waving dangerously inside the tub. 

Corazon doesn’t answer, he only slides his other hand under her other thigh, his thrust becoming slightly faster, and also harder. He almost slightly lifts her up, her position not allowing her to do anything but feel him. Each time, he buries himself entirely, his balls slapping lazily against her rear. Overwhelmed by the many feeling inside of his mind, Corazon starts to take her more wildly, her back entirely pressed against his torso, and she can do nothing but suffer from his hard yet careful thrusts. 

“Yes…!” She cries, eyebrows furrowed, the water now sliding out of the tub, as Corazon sucks on her neck, increasing his pace. 

“You’re getting dry…” He growls, the conditions of their intercourse drying out her natural fluids. 

He suddenly moves and pushes her belly against the tub, exposing both of her core and rear, her hands grabbing the edge of it, his own palms resting on her hips as he kneels behind her. He rocks his hips harder, ignoring all the mess they’re creating because of their movements, her moans echoing hard inside the protected room ; with Corazon’s power, no one can hear her anyway. He takes her harder, and harder, his balls slapping against her skin, filling the room with lusty noises. She clenches her fingers on the tub, unable to think straight anymore. Corazon is large and long, and the way he’s taking her makes her lose her mind. 

“Rosinante!” She whimpers when she feels his slender fingers coming again between her legs, teasing her swollen clit shamelessly. “I can’t…” 

“Trust me…” He groans adorably, his eyes gazing at her wonderful wet body. 

He pinches it with tender and harmless gestures, perfectly aware of her sensitiveness down there. As he keeps sliding in and out of her core, he also massages her nub, her skin covered in goosebumps. She suddenly bites her bottom lip, and Corazon can perfectly feels her core getting narrower, literally sucking him inside.

“Your walls are squeezing me so hard!” He cries, kissing her neck, abandoning her over-stimulated clit to cup her breasts. 

“You’re so big… It’s so good…” She can only stutter, her eyes still closed, as she’s riding out her second orgasm, her hips naturally escorting his movements. 

It’s enough for Corazon to lose the battle against his own excitement. In a long growl, he bursts inside of her, long spurts of his seed plastering her insides, his breathing and his heartbeat erratic. He gives her a few thrusts for a moment, before he stops his gestures, catching his breath. Carefully, he pulls out, leading her back into the warm tub, hugging her body tightly. She hums, hiding her nose in the crook of his neck, her fingers tenderly brushing his skin. 

“I love you…” She whispers, placing a soft kiss on his wet flesh. “So much.” 

He smiles, feeling his heart swelling with the best feeling in the world. He presses his lips on her forehead, squeezing her body slightly more against his torso. 

“I love you even more.” 

She exhales, and then looks around. Indeed, the bathroom is an absolute chaos, soap, bubbles and water spreading on the floor. She giggles and shakes her head, massaging her eyelids for a moment. 

“It’s such a mess, here…” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Corazon shrugs and smooshes her wet hair with tender kisses. “We’ll clean up later. Now, you just have to hug me.” 

[residentanchor]

Hey, Logan.  Sorry about taking so long to get back to you about this.  I had some business in another universe to take care of.  But I’m here now and ready to explain the nature of the cosmos to you, and to any of the others who might be interested in hearing about it.  So, welcome to

The Traveler’s Guide to the Multiversal Bleed-Through Effect

So, let’s start with the basics.

Your universe is not the only one that exists.  In fact, there is literally an infinite number of universes, spread out in a vast complex array.  Some are so similar to your own that it could take a lifetime to find a single difference.  Others are so different that they defy comprehension and boggle the mind.

But except for certain specialized circumstances, these universe do not interact with each other.  They go about their existence, minding their own business, living out their own narratives.  They’re born, they live, and they die, like all things on this side of eternity do.

However, they don’t always stay separate.  Sometimes universes are similar enough to each other that they actually stick very close together, allowing individuals to cross between them.  If you were to imagine a single universe as a soap bubble floating in the air, these close-knit multiverses would be like a cluster of bubbles, with thinner barriers between them, allowing for direct transdimensional travel between them.

But even without this direct contact, universes can still leave impressions on others.  Universes give off radiative energy, just like stars.  And this energy travels through the void between worlds before being picked up by another universe.  And once inside that universe, it will usually find a sentient mind and be absorbed by it.

That energy contains a part of that universe’s essence, and with it a record of that world’s narrative.  And the person who intercepts it has a chance to write it down and share it with others.  Some worlds get lucky and find their narratives being delivered to individuals with a gift for writing, and those authors are able to interpret what happens in those worlds and share it with those in their own world in the form of fiction stories.

I’m not sure if you’re familiar with it, but there was a series on TV in my home world, and the world these voices come from, called Once Upon a Time, that told the untold stories of famous Disney-adapted fairy tales.  One major aspect in later seasons was an individual known as The Author, a person chosen for their strong belief in the magic of the narrative who was tasked with recording the fates of the various realms of story in that world.

That’s what Celery is to you guys, and how all these voices asking you questions are able to know what’s going on with your lives.  It’s not that Celery is dictating what is going to happen in your world, but rather she has been given the honor of chronicling it for posterity.

But she’s not the only one.  There are many others like her who have been chosen for such a task.  And I myself have handpicked an individual to whom I relay the tales of my own adventures.

To summarize the point I’m trying to make, you and your world are not just a work of fiction.  You are part of a living narrative that has been selected by the powers of fate to be presented to others in other worlds by a skilled chronicler.  It should be considered an honor to be chosen in this way, and so too should your author feel honored to be chosen to present your story to others.

I hope this made sense to you.  If you do have any more questions, I would be more than happy to oblige your curiosity, to an extent.

In any case, I wish you all a good day.

Logan:-taking notes-Fascinating. It makes sense from a base standpoint. I’ve never heard of this television show but I can see where you are coming from. The laws of the multiverse--the bleed through--those who have taken up the task of recording it all... Marvelous!

I simply wonder if they’re recording things from our past or our future. There seems to be a lot I’m missing but with this, I can start my own research. Since this is less ‘the multiverse’ and more simply my universe, it is research I shall continue on my own, but I’ll ask if I have any questions! Thank you.

This has stemmed from a conversation and string of asks over on the @alessoninpracticality blog but David sent it here for me to answer. You can hop over there to see more! <3

[maddiicake]

Ramblings of a Madwoman

Because I honestly have no other idea what to title this as. To put it simple, that's what this entire journal is going to be. From start to finish--no stopping to think about whatever f-ed up stuff will be put into written text and to be immortalized for eternity (deleted after or not) here on the World Wide Web--nothing but unedited, freewriting, off topic sidebar-ing throughout the entirety of this Journal. So, we'll see where and how it ends.

In about a month, I'll have been on DeviantART for an entire decade (and about 8 years since Tumblr). And, I just want to make it clear: I've done a shit tone of fucked up things in all the years that I've been here. Of course, this was things that I mainly did to people. (Yes, people, because, let's face it, whether or not we have the comfort of anonymity behind the keyboard in the middle of our "safe space" of the internet, we're still people on the other side of the screens). But, yes, I've done and said fucked up shit to people during me time here. I'm not ashamed to admit it. Nor will I deny any of the messed up stuff that I've done, especially to said people, in the past decade. I'll spare you all the wall of novel-length text that consists of my usual self-deprecating self-flagellation, since you all know the drill by now. Plus, I would hate putting you all to sleep just at the beginning of this Journal.

I'm messed up in the head. Plain and simple.

In my younger years (earlier in the decade, right about when I first appeared on dA), I had something wrong with me--not sure what, but it was definitely something that I, unfortunately, would never fully realize until recently this year. I grew up sheltered in an overly Conservative and Bible-Thumping household. The neighborhood I grew up in was what my parents lovingly called "God's Waiting Room", because of all the old-timers living in the homes. Any kids around were ones that I wasn't allowed to socialize with because my parents didn't want them "influencing" me. So, needless to say, I didn't have much of a social life growing up. I only went to a real school for two and a half years of my life, and, during that time, I stuck out more than a sore thumb (Hell, I didn't even know what a "Cafeteria" was, because the only "Cafeteria" I knew of was the dinner table. So, needless to say, my first time experiencing "lunch" was very awkward). All in all, being sheltered and not having much of a social life when you're still in your single-digits you grow up having this narcissistic know-it-all, controlling, 'I'm better than you', 'I'm the only person in this world and everyone else doesn't exist' personality and you think that you can control everyone else to your every whim. Being put into a real school with other real life people and kids my age was, obviously, a massive culture shock. When you suddenly realize that other people are their own individual person and have their own free will, you start to become aware that you were educated and raised in a world that could be similar to solitary confinement.

"Oh, hey, (Saki's real name). What're you doing?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just trying to think of how I can get all my classmates together for our superhero team so we can go off and fight bad guys in my head, all the while thinking I can bend them to my will as if they're not actually other human beings."

"...Didn't Chris-Chan already do that?"

"Pfft. This is 2005! Chris-Chan won't be a thing for another few years."

Now, my parents weren't perfect. I was their first child, and the first-borns are always the "guinea pigs"  for new parents.  Of course, I never understood that my parents were humans until my 20s. They made mistakes with me, like thinking that not giving their young impressionable daughter a social life through the first crucial years of her childhood was a good idea.

I know it sounds like I'm complaining--that's always the initial reaction people get whenever they read posts like this from me. "Oh, Saki's just starting drama", "Kura just wants attention", "She's cray-cray and needs help, like srsly...". Believe me, I get it, I completely understand why one would think that I sound like I'm complaining. Because you, the reader, are just reading these little pixelated words that look black on your computer monitor/mobile screen. But, in reality, when up close, those pixels are just a collection of RBGs. You interpret what you see through your reading and comprehension of the words before you. Because you're not the author. You merely interpret what you're writing and filling the blanks with guesswork of what the writer is trying to convey through these little pixels making up words.

It's weird, y'know... They say that "hearing voices" is the first step into insanity. But, are you insane if you're fully aware of it? They say that psychos and sociopaths don't admit nor are aware of their disorder because of the narcissism that accompanies it. So... would you still be a psychopath or sociopath if you admit it and/or are aware of it? These are just a handful of the kind of questions that fill he chaotic Hell in my mind when nothing else is going on.

Lately, though, that hasn't been very often. For those of you, who follow me on Tumblr (by the way, if you still follow me there, you must have a lot of tolerance for me), you may have noticed the rather alarming on-and-off episodes I've been having over the past few weeks. Trust me when I tell you that former friends will assure that "This is normal for Saki/Kura. Just stay away from her. She's just a lost cause. You'll only end up hurt associating with her, much less talking to her."

"Saki... the things you have been saying aren't really 'normal'--"

"Oh trust me... this is the Keemster-level of a 'cycle' that she goes through. Why do you think we made her theme song that Keemstar Parody of All Star? LMAO. This is 100% Normal for her."

But, what is normal? 'Normal' is nothing more than a perception of what we're used to: routines, topics, lifestyles--whatever we are used to. When something occurs that is out of our routine, we immediately perceive it as 'abnormal' (or just not normal). Much life me experience, albeit rather brief, time I spent in an actual school. You feel that unnerving unease as the stranger in a foreign land.

Now, what I do and say isn't Healthy, that would be the proper use of the phrase you're trying to portray. But, my diagnosis came far too late. There's no undoing what is done. There's no chance at saving loathsome sinners, the chance they had was the life they had before and the punishment is this. There's no rainbows inside of demons.

People, who view others outside of their little bubble, call those 'abnormal' people "toxic", simply because that person has disturbing psychological issues. It's like: "Ewww! A mud puddle! Gross I can't believe I stepped in that! Now my $200 shoes are ruined forever because of that damn puddle!" Those people are treated as lower than dirt just because their perceived in such a negative light. It's a label those high and mighty ones quickly slap onto those, who can't help the disorders they have. Sometimes those people aren't even aware they have a disorder, yet those prissy princesses still sit with upturned noses and chastise with their prim: "You need help, srsly." with their venomous undertone of "I'm better than you." Is it really fair to be some uppity hoity-toity sociality; sneering through your little rainbow-soap window down below at those loathsome dirty little plebian peasants? Perhaps that may be "normal" for you.

Sometimes--no, actually, often; very often--I just want to pop that bubble. Let that sprinkle of soap sting their eyes as it dribbles into their corneas. Their screams and cries in pain while they lean over the sink to wash them out would be such a delight.

I would go into more detail about other things regarding this, but I'm not dumb enough to freewrite my thoughts out to the point there's incriminating evidence against me.

"...Saki, this Journal is getting a little dark..."

"It's called 'Ramblings of a Madwoman' for a reason. Besides, the little 13-year-old edgelord wannabes on this website get away with far worse. Trust me, I've seen them. Some of them are in their 20s and haven't grown out of that phase. Them going on and getting away with using their boyfriends, who has ties to the dark Web, to get the personal information (mailing address and all) of the people they don't like just so that they can have them killed. You'd be surprised how thin-skinned these little lefties are. 'Someone Disagrees with me?? -cue Mission Impossible montage of tracking that person down and killing them-'."

"But you're talking about killing people!"

"I have said no such thing! At least not put it in writing. What part of 'I'm not dumb enough to post incriminating evidence of myself' did you not understand, my dear?"

Yes... it would be nice to have a peace of mind for once day. It would be amazing to not have to wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat from another night terror (had one just last night actually). When people want you dead--and have gone out of their way to find your address so that they can kill you--, all you want to do is keep you and your family safe. People can't kill you if they no longer exist, right? It would be just so nice to be able to go on for the rest of my life without having to worry about being sought after and killed just because I disagreed with someone and told them they were being stupid and immature. Or just randomly responding to condescending Twitter users, who think I'm talking about a certain someone when I'm not. But, just knowing that people still continue to go after me for no apparent reason just causes those night terrors to persist.

I just want to keep my family safe. Selfishly, I want to be able to sleep without having to worry about people in other States and Countries somehow knowing where I live and can come and kill me at any moment.

"Why didn't you call the cops--?"

"Because I didn't know it was them at the time it happened. Their former friend didn't tell me about all the plots and things they said in their Discord server until two years later. So, they were able to get away with this because of the Statute of Limitations."

Regardless, that still won't put my mind at ease knowing that they're still out there and can pull the same thing or worse once again. I wasn't the only one they they did this too, either. Of course, that the YouTube Drama Channels for you. They do fucked up shit behind the scenes while putting on some "I'm a good person" face.

You can't trust people, who act nice publicly. They aren't the innocent souls they want everyone to believe that they are. They want something. They want something from you. And when they've squeezed everything out of you that they want... they'll toss you away with no hesitation because they're done using you. Using you to feed their little lambs, whose fleece are white as snow, while they sleep their way to the top.

They want me dead. They've always wanted me dead. They know where I live, and they'll take me out along with the rest of my family. They'll rejoice and be glad of course~ ^u^ "Ding Dong the witch is dead~!" They will sing as they dance together happily in the streets. "Huzzah! Hooray! The monster has been slain. No longer shall she continue to torment us because we have FINALLY killed her~!" They said so themselves: "I'm happy that people told you these things." That was back in 2015 (and I still have the screenshot and the link to the original post)... half a decade ago. Even back then, they wanted me dead. Their party planning for that day is still in preparation. But, they'll immediately set up once that time come when I no longer exist. "...Saki, you're not okay."

This is what happens to people when they've finally Snapped.

But, I want to get better. Don't get me wrong. I don't like that I've become this person. No, I don't believe in change--I don't believe people can change whatsoever. I just want to feel better and not have to worry about these things anymore. But, I know well that things will never be the same. All I can do is continue moving forward and hope and pray that I don't mess up once again and start the cycle all over.

[merryfortune]

Educative Purposes

Fandom: Star Twinkle PreCure

Ship: Hikaru/Lala

Word Count: 2.1k

Synopsis:  Hikaru demonstrates to Lala various types of Earthling kisses, for purely educative purposes, of course.

  “What’s that, lun?” Lala asked, eyes widening, as she pointed to the television.

  Her body lifted slightly beneath the blanket that she and Hikaru had been sharing. They were having a movie marathon because Hikaru thought it would be fun and Lala thought it had the potential to be educational. Through fiction, she figured that she would come to learn more of Earth – and Japan’s – customs.

  Hikaru hummed as she lifted herself off the floor as well. She scooted in closer, feeling a little chill in the air, one she had escaped from rather successfully by sharing her bed and blankets with Lala as they watched the movies on her miniature television her parents had allowed her to borrow for the night.

  “You mean the kiss, right?” Hikaru asked for clarification as she paused the movie, she re-wound it a few seconds and now the male and female protagonists were eternally locked on the lips until Hikaru permitted them to stop.

  “Yes, lun. The kiss, lun.” Lala said. “It seems awfully unhygienic, lun. After all, that’s where the food goes, lun. Why mash faces together like that, lun?”

  Hikaru laughed. “Because its romantic!” she squealed. “Well… not when you phrase it like that. It does sound a little icky when you put it that way but I’m sure the actors brushed their teeth beforehand.”

  Lala still screwed up her face in disgust. Hikaru laughed some more, she thought the way Lala’s nose wrinkled was rather cute. She pouted in turn though, disliking that Hikaru was finding some sort of amusement in the situation when she could not.

  “So, is kissing a common Earth custom, lun?” Lala asked.

  “Hm, I guess so. I hear that some cultures don’t have kissing at all, but many do.” Hikaru replied. “Like, kissing in public is bit of a no-no but in foreign movies, especially American ones, it’s not as taboo. Like, there are different kinds of kisses, too.”

  “Hm…” Lala hummed. “Like what sort, lun? Are they all as unhygienic as this mouth-to-mouth contact business, lun?”

  “Uh, well… Kisses on the forehead, on the cheek, on your hands… They all mean different things too. Mouth-to-mouth kissing is restricted to couples, mostly – especially with tongue!” Hikaru chirruped before dissolving into laughter which her alien companion didn’t understand the humour of.

  “Disgusting, lun.” Lala’s skin crawled.

  Hikaru laughed. “Ne, ne, can I kiss you Lala?”

  “What, lun?” Lala exclaimed, eyebrows twinged, and her mouth hung agape.

  “Like I said. All sorts of kisses. Like for instance, a kiss on the cheek is platonic! For friends. And we’re friends right, let me welcome you to Earth with some good old fashion Earthling kisses.” Hikaru said.

  Lala prickled. “It could help me understand Earth culture better, lun…” she mumbled. She huffed. “Very well then, lun.”

  She angled her face towards Hikaru. Hikaru grinned widely and she chastely pecked Lala’s cheeks. She was surprised by how soft Lala’s skin was but, Hikaru could feel some sort of dander on her lips; it felt chalky. Meanwhile, Lala was miffed by how wet Hikaru’s lips were and there was a rather fruity smell on her, Lala now realised about Hikaru. Hikaru leaned back and gave Lala space to process it. She placed her fingers on her cheeks.

  “I suppose that wasn’t too bad, lun…” she mumbled.

  “Aw, I’m glad, Lala.” Hikaru smiled. “And forehead kisses are usually done between family members, as a sort of “I love you” and I love you a lot as well, Lala. Do you love me?”

  Lala blushed. She didn’t understand how Hikaru could use such phrases so freely and with such an open heart. But she relented.

  “Very well then, lun.” she replied. “I – I lo-love you too, lun.”

  “D’aww, thank you very much.” Hikaru said.

  Lala leaned in again, angling her face downwards this time. Hikaru pecked her forehead, right between the brows. This time, she felt slightly bolder. The kiss was chaste, but it lasted a few seconds longer. She could feel Lala radiate with the warmth of embarrassment as she later withdrew herself from Lala’s personal space.

  “Did you like that one?” Hikaru asked.

  “I did, actually, lun. I feel very loved in a very Earthling way, now, lun.” Lala replied.

  “That’s so good.” Hikaru exclaimed. “And, um, what other kisses are there…? Oh! Some people kiss on the ears!”

  “Ears, lun?!” Lala gasped and she panickily covered her ears.

  Hikaru laughed. “Yep, a kiss on the ears is another “I love you” type kiss, but I guess all kisses convey “I love you” one way or another… But I think ear kisses are platonic. I think it depends on the person. I think so long as the other person likes it, it should be fine.”

  “I have very sensitive ears, Hikaru, lun. Don’t be so selfish, lun.” Lala complained. But she relaxed. “Fine, very well then, lun.”

  “Thank you, Lala.” Hikaru beamed.

  This time, Hikaru came closer to Lala. She brushed her lips up against Lala’s pointed ears. She was surprised by how firm the cartilage was, maybe it was because of the unusual shape. Lala shivered at the touch, however light and then withdrew immediately. Hikaru smiled and gave Lala space again. Lala hugged herself and she was going a rather bright red.

  “Are you okay?” Hikaru asked.

  “I’m just embarrassed, lun.” Lala confessed, her voice was hasty.

  Hikaru blinked. “Embarrassed?” she echoed.

  “Yes, lun. Embarrassed, lun. We don’t do this sort of thing on my home planet, lun. B-But I wish we did, so I wouldn’t feel this way, lun. My heart is racing very, very hard but it’s nice, lun. You kiss very well, Hikaru, lun. I – I want to be kissed by you more, lun.”

  “I want to kiss you more as well.” Hikaru replied.

  “Wh-What other sorts of kisses are there on Earth, lun?” Lala replied, glancing away from her companion.

  “Hm, well, there are also respectful kisses. A kiss on the hand is considered more respectful than as a platonic, familial, or romantic gesture. It’s the sort of thing done between princess and princes.” Hikaru said.

  Upon hearing that, Lala held out her hand. Hikaru held onto it gently, their fingers gliding against one another’s. Hikaru’s fingers were so long and slender compared to Lala’s. Her fingers were rather short and stubby, the webbing on them more pronounced as well. Hikaru partially wondered if it was because Lala’s antennae had more bodily significance than her hands.

  Hikaru brushed her mouth over Lala’s knuckles. Her hands stiffened slightly before relaxing. Hikaru smiled into the kiss, a slow and sensual act. Lala was almost sad when Hikaru lifted up her head again, so she could flash another smile unto Lala’s face. Lala mutedly returned the sentiment; there was a sparkle in her eyes though which betrayed her more guarded expression.

  “You’re my princess, Lala.” Hikaru told Lala in a gentle, almost hushed voice. “My space princess from beyond the milky way.”

  Lala smiled and she had to clamp down on a bubble of laughter in her mouth. “You’re my space princess, as well, Hikaru, from the beautiful blue planet, lun.” she replied.

  “There’s really only one common type of kiss left, Lala.” Hikaru informed her.

  “A kiss on the mouth, lun… Yes?” Lala confirmed, her brows knitted together in what was either seriousness or disgust.

  “A-yup.” Hikaru nodded. “But, if you don’t want to, you don’t ha-”

  Lala clamped one hand onto Hikaru’s shoulders and then completed the distance. Hikaru made a smothered noise, her eyes widening as Lala ardently kissed her, but she let her lips close more partially. She closed her eyes to Lala and kissed back. She had never kissed someone on the lips before, but it was extremely and extraordinarily exciting. Her nerves felt frantic. Sparked alight by the sensations, or maybe just because Lala had decided to hold onto Hikaru as well using her antennae and they were inadvertently sending shocks into her, but she didn’t mind.

  Lala’s kiss was forceful, but awkward. Hikaru liked it though. It was kind of silly, yet very her. So, she kissed back into the mess. She kept her lips tightened together as she pressed against Lala’s. In this close proximity, Hikaru could smell Lala quite distinctly. She smelt completely unearthly, like nothing Hikaru could describe using words that she knew on Earth.

  But, fortunately, Hikaru could smell – and even taste – on Lala which were identifiable to her arsenal of descriptions. She could smell her blanket on Lala, the wafting fragrance of the laundry soap as it had been washed this morning in preparation of her and Lala’s movie night. Hikaru could also vaguely taste the popcorn and doughnuts they had been eating throughout the movie. She thought that all these smells and tastes would be funny to experience all mashed up in a kiss, but she was pleasantly wrong. What a wonderful thing to discover.

  In the back of her mind, as Hikaru kissed Lala, she wondered if the alien girl was having similar thoughts.

  And, unsurprisingly, Lala was having similar about the alien – the earthling – girl before her. She thought Hikaru was strange. Very strange. This was very much conveyed in how they kissed: mouth to mouth, as bizarre and unhygienic as it was. Hikaru was very soft and she wore strawberry lip balm. Hikaru’s essence which Lala found by connecting with her like this, was composed of many easily identifiable substances to Lala: carbon, oxygen, carbon-dioxide, and so many more elements and how they all stacked upon each other to make a human. Specifically, the human known as Hoshina Hikaru whom Lala was swiftly falling in love with. But it was completely and totally different when their mouths were pressed up against each other like this.

  And most curiously of all, Lala actually quite liked it. But she supposed that was what the chemical known as love did. It erased all the icky bits and made her yearn for more, even when she pulled back and finally ended the kiss. Lala panted slightly when their lips parted from one another. Hikaru was breathless and her magenta eyes keenly shined. Lala felt her guts all squirm against each other; she flexed her fingers and blushed. Her antennae tentatively floating upwards not unlike shoulders turning to hackles.

  “That was, um, that was unprecedented, lun…” Lala murmured.

  “More like… twin-cool!” Hikaru replied, gleeful and grinning and in her catch phrase, all the beats she had missed exploded since she could rarely go two seconds without uttering it.

  Lala smiled awkwardly. “I’m flattered to hear that, lun.”

  “We should kiss more often than, Lala.” Hikaru smugly said through a huge and toothy grin.

  “I don’t disagree, lun.” Lala replied, demure and uppity and in denial of her truer feelings.

  “Then how about one more kiss? Just one.” Hikaru suggest.

  Lala was scandalised by the question. She sputtered with her eyes widening. She couldn’t believe there were yet more places to kiss and be kissed. They had done hands, ears, mouths, cheeks, foreheads: it was all too much!

  “W-Where, lun?” Lala stuttered.

  Hikaru giggled as she raised a hand to Lala. Her fingers entwined on the thin thread which connected Lala’s sensory orbs to her head. Lala’s heart skipped a beat whilst Hikaru guided them to her mouth. Lala licked her lips then swallowed as this kiss elicited more in her than any of the previous kisses.

  The mouth-to-mouth one had inspired courage and bravado. The kisses previous had inspired curiosity amongst other things. But this kiss was simply electric. There was a twinkle of mischief in Hikaru’s eyes as she pressed her lips delicately against the orbs, which had a gelatine-like feel to them, which decorated the ends of her antennae.

  Lala’s face reddened and her heart beat pounded harder than it had ever pounded before. “O-Oh, lun…” she mumbled, stuttering through her growing infatuation. “Th-There, lun.”

  “Yep, right there.” Hikaru replied. Her gaze quickly darted away from Lala who was the perfect picture of cuteness. “Did you like it…?”

  “Loved it, lun. We should experiment more, lun. F-For educative purposes, of course, lun.”

  Hikaru laughed. “Yeah, for educational purposes, for sure.”

  There was a sort of sarcasm was pronounced in her voice, but Lala liked it. Lala liked it a lot. And Hikaru liked that a lot, as well. Her lips tingled in an electrified grin which Lala shyly met with her antennae shyly reaching back out to Hikaru’s hand.

  “Should we keep watching the movie?” Hikaru awkwardly asked.

  “That sounds nice, lun. Especially now that I have a more thorough understanding of these Earth customs, I can better appreciate the nuance, lun.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Hikaru replied, sounding chuffed.

  So, she and Lala settled again after all that kissing. They shared the blankets between one another and Hikaru grabbed another bag of chocolates for them to tear into. She smiled as she brushed up against Lala, who was comfortable again beside Hikaru beneath the soft, weighted fabric of the blanket. Hikaru pressed play and the movie night continued without hitch.

[ryansfabray]

Soap Bubbles | Fabray Sisters

Who: Ryan Fabray & Malia Fabray ( @maliafabray​ )

When: Sunday 6.30.19

Where: Ryan’s Suite

What: Ryan punishes Malia as ordered by Sue Sylvester. 

It was hard for Malia to not run away and hide in her tree or in her maze on campus-- both becoming her safe spots, away from everyone and everything. But that was decidedly the worst option for the two Fabrays, considering that would force Ryan to hunt Malia down and dole out a harsher punishment.  So she bit the bullet and very, very slowly made her way to Ryan's suite. She couldnt bring herself to walk any faster,  as she'd determined if she couldn't run, then she'd be fashionably late. When she arrived, she knocked once, then twice. Her body language said it all as she scuffed her boots against the ground, hands clasped in front of her. "So what do ya say to just skippin' this shindig and sayin' we went through with it?", was the first thing out of her mouth when Ryan opened the door.

For someone who was normally so impatient, she didn't mind that Malia took her time getting there. She was also regretting not doing the punishment sooner. She had a fantastic day with the water fight and her time with Beau, but perhaps that was what was needed before doling out a punishment to her sister. She's already packed up most of her clothes and was in her practice room packing up her sheet music when she heard the single knock at the door. She sighed and dropped what she was doing before going to let Malia in. "I wish like hell we could do that, but I'm pretty sure the head bitch has ways of knowing and I'm not really trying to chance that." The sun was already starting to set, but all of her windows were still open and the lights still off as she led Malia into the kitchen. "Let's just get it over with, hm?" She already had the tape and the bar of soap laid out by the sink and she pulled a stool over to the counter for Malia to sit in.

Malia pursed her lips, looking down at the floor as she walked through the threshold of Ryan's suite. Admittedly, she was acting very childish. But this punishment was eerily similar to some of the lighter things their father did and it took her back to that time, when all she wanted was to have the opportunity to be herself and also be loved. "Yeah." She said solemnly. "Yeah..let's just get this over with." She mumbled, shrugging off her signature leather jacket and draping it on the counter. She removed her boots and slid them neatly beneath the stool. With a deep breath, she sat on the stool and looked to Ryan expectantly. "An hour of this, right?"

The more Ryan thought about it, the more she wondered why the hell she chose a punishment that they used to receive as children.  As much as she tried to pull away, there were always some remnants  from the man who shaped her childhood, especially when it came to the art pf punishments. The punishments always fit the crime in the Fabray household, or at least that's what Daddy dearest always said. "Yeah an hour." Ryan waited patiently as Malia readied herself, handing her a paper towel before she even reached for the soap. "Wipe all the spit from your mouth first to keep the soap from being activated too soon. Then put the soap in your mouth." Once she handed Malia the soap, she cut off a piece of tape and waited for Malia to start the clock.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah" She grumbled, taking the paper towel from her hands and did as she was told-- but not without a grimace. This process was too familiar and it made her sick to her stomach already, just thinking about the taste of soap. Of all things, why did the other have to pick this? It was a small punishment sure, but it was always the small things that got to Malia. Pain she could always deal with but this bordered on psychological with the connection it had with Russell. Malia swallowed thickly and balled up the papertowel, pushing those thoughts out of her head. There was no way Ryan was doing this with the intent of all those thoughts. "Aight.' She murmured, picking up the soap and slipping it in her mouth. The taste was awful, just like she remembered.

This was so unsettling. Ryan hated everything about this but if she learned anything about situations like this, she needed to be strong and sure for Malia. Or at least steady. She kept her eyes on Malia's face and her own facial expression neutral, which was hard when the look of discomfort was so evident on her sister's face. As soon as the bar was in her mouth, Ryan placed the piece of tape over her mouth and stepped back a bit, crossing her arms. Maybe Malia wouldn't gag and this would be the worst of it. Maybe.

Malia was thankful for the steeled, practiced look on Ryan's face. It made it easier for her to attempt to be strong about this, even if she was a bit sulky. She couldn't hold Ryan's gaze, though. and looked down, letting the bar just sit in her mouth for a moment as she fought off the sick feeling in her stomach. The moment didn't last long and she gagged, her hands coming up to her mouth instinctively, even though there was tape there.

It was inevitable, Ryan just wasn't expecting it so soon. Still, her expression was unwavering as she picked up the cane she'd borrowed from Nate from where it leaned against the counter. It was obvious she was hoping they wouldn't need it considering it was on the opposite side of her kitchen. "Each gag is a hit from the cane. Put your feet out, make them straight and stiff," she instructed before hitting her once on the bottom of the right foot. "If you want to bend over to see of that helps with the gagging, be my guest." Ryan backed up to lean against the counter once again, leaving Malia to decide how she was going to proceed.

A noise of discomfort came from the back of Malia's throat after she stuck her feet out, pointing them upwards and then they were hit on the bottom. It didnt hurt all that much but it was a strange feeling, for sure. With a groan that sounded more like a growl and a crinkle between her brows, she hunched over and her short hair fell to curtain her face. She took the opportunity to take a deep breath through her nose. But as a little bit of time went on, the soap was starting to activate, coating her tongue with that distinct nasty taste. And then she made the mistaken of swallowing out of instinct and it shuffled the soap in her mouth. She gagged again, and again, and again, her eyes welling up in tears automatically.  When she got a hold of her gagging, she brought her hands up to roughly rub at her eyes before narrowing her eyes at the other girl expectedly.

When her eyes weren't on Malia, they were on the clock on the wall, counting down the slowest hour she's ever experienced in her life. It seemed as though the hunching over was helping, at least for a little bit, but then it all went from 0 to 60 in a few seconds and Ryan needed to physically stop herself from jumping forward to help her sister. She sighed helplessly and tore another paper towel off from the roll and handed it to Malia for her tears. Ryan didn't actually count the gags, so she just opted to hit each foot once. It felt like an eternity, but only twenty five minutes had passed. She rubbed the girl's back, but kept her face neutral. "Half way there, Malia."

Malia begrudgingly used the paper towel to wipe her tears, another noise of discomfort coming from her throat when her feet were hit again. She flexed her toes, hoping to make the sting go away fast somehow. And when she felt the other's hand on her back, she couldnt help but shift away slightly, as best she could in a stool. She was pissed and that much was evident.  Within the next thirty minutes, she gagged a few more times whenever she reflexively swallowed and her face contorted more in a cross between disgust and anger. And when she was inevitably with the cane, she took her licks with a huff out of her nose, making sure not to look at Ryan, not even to glare at her.

Ryan took the hint and while it stung knowing that Malia was actually pissed at her, she didn't let it show. She was good at that. At hiding her feelings. She hid the hurt at her sister pulling away and the anger at being pulled into this situation in the first place, just so they could get through this. The empathy she had for her sister was gone for the moment and she just focused on getting through the punishment as best they could. Ryan watched Malia from the counter opposite her and used the cane the few more times Malia gagged on the soap. The second half of the hour went by a little faster than the first but the timer still didn't go off soon enough. She placed a small bucket in front of Malia to take as she pulled the tape off. "Time's up." Ryan tried to say as little as possible. "Rinse your mouth until all the soap is gone and there's mouthwash to get rid of the taste." She stepped back a bit. "The choice for you to stay or go is still yours, let me know what it is once you're done here." Then with that, she moved back to continue packing up her room, anything to keep her mind busy for the moment.

In the end, Malia does choose to leave, though not on awful terms with Ryan. She’s quiet and withdrawn– and makes her way to the hedgemaze to get her mind right again. Or at least put herself under the illusion that her mind is right.

[boogiewrites]

Who We Were & Who We Are Now 2

Chapter 2

Characters: Forrest Bondurant x Tawny Barrett (OFC)

Word Count: 3700+

Summary: Tonya Barrett, or Miss Tawny as Forrest likes to call her, moves back home at the news of her stepfather becoming ill. She left Franklin County almost a decade ago, it feels like everything within her has changed and nothing has changed back home. Will the actions following her stepfathers passing lead the Bondurants to once again take her in? And this time, no longer being on the verge of adulthood but fully grown…what will she and Forrest decide to do about the lethal combination of history and chemistry they have together?

Warnings/Tags: Language. Mentions of abuse and illness.

A/N: Memories are in italics!

Positive feedback is MUCH appreciated! Reblogs, likes, asks and comments feed me to write more! Let me know if you’d like tagged in my work.

My Masterlist.

You leave him with a smile and a wave before slamming the door to your truck shut. He nods and gives you a small wave in return, arm barely raising as his eyes shift to see if anyone was around to see. He watches the dust kicked up by your tires as he moves to sit back down in his usual chair on the front porch. With the silence that follows after the dust has settled, he finds himself distracted and getting lost in memories of you.

---- He sat in the church pew, angled a bit towards the door watching people come in for the Sunday service. The twang of instruments playing gospels in the background. He keeps his eyes to the peeling and pocked doorway, covered in one too many coats of paint over the years.

He see's Cliff walk in first in his Sunday best, Junior right in tow, walking behind his daddy in a clean little suit and shiny shoes. Cliff picks him up and sets him in the pew with a pat on the head, adjusting his jacket as he sat.

He see's your mama, her floral dress swinging as she holds your upper arm, licking her thumb and rubbing at your smudged face. Her dress doesn't match to the nice suits of her second husbands, your stepfathers, and your half-brothers. She has her arm around your back, pushing you into the room, your face was solemn as he usually found it when you weren't daydreaming, which is how he preferred to see you.

He sees your only pair of shoes, besides the boots you wore to work on the farm. They were beaten and too small under the too high hem of your dress, having grown out of it as well. The tattered hem, the dull colors of the flowers that used to be bright like the high summer grass color of your eyes. Your hair a mousey red-brown, pulled into two tight braids that you fussed with as you walked, pulling them over your shoulders. Your eyes are on the floor, no smile to be seen on your sweet face like the other girls in their fluffy bonnets and shiny shoes.

At a glance, anyone else would look over you in the crowd of people, choosing to look at the other bubbly and highly decorated girls that giggled and got shushed by their mothers. But the only girl he ever found himself looking at was you. -------

You take a deep breath before knocking on the door of your childhood home. You hear a nasty cough, thinking that must be Cliff. A pounding of feet up to the door before it opens with a creak. The smell of smoke hits you as the form of a young man appears, he'd be about 15 now, wouldn't he?

"Tawny?" he asks, his eyes wide and you nod with a forced smile. "Oh you came!" he practically shouts, moving to hug you. You're taken back by the gesture, but you're thankful he seems like a sweet boy. "Come on, come in, come in," he excited says, tugging you by the wrist into the house. You shut the door behind you. "Daddy's in there," he says in a quieter voice. "You got the letter I'm guessin'?" he asks.

"Yeah, that's why I'm here." you say softly with a nod, setting your suitcase down on the dirty, uneven wooden floors.

"Thank God you're here, I don't know what I's gonna do if I had to deal with this all myself. I don't know nothin' 'bout buryin' nobody." he says, face falling.

"Well I do." you give him a nod, hand rubbing his shoulder. "I'm here to help you Junior. You're my brother hun, I ain't gonna leave ya hangin'." you say, compelled to pull the boy in for a hug. He happily obliges, wrapping his arms back around you. "We'll do this together alright?" you say, pushing him back by his shoulders.

He gives a sad nod and you pat his cheek.

"You look good, Tawny Bell." Cliff voice, rough as the whitewater streams, abused by drink and smokin' and screamin' his whole life is even nastier than you remember it being. He's leaning on the door frame, cane in his other hand. He looked like a corpse already.

"You take my bag to my old room, hun?" you ask Junior sweetly, he smiles and looks happy to be of use. He heads down the hall.

"Can't say the same for you." you say with a stone face, meeting his eyes but not stepping closer.

"I told him not to write you."

"Good to know he ain't listenin' to you." you retort, face giving him nothing.

"I see your bad attitude ain't changed."

"Only gotten worse when it comes to you."

"Now if you're gonna talk like that in my house I ain't gonna let ya stay here." he gruffs out.

You take hard but not rushed steps up to him, leaving maybe a foot between the two of you, you point your finger aggressively in his face. "This ain't never been your fuckin' house you god damned vulture." you bite out.

His eyes widen, you'd never stood up to him before. Just a "bad attitude" he'd called your cold and distant behavior. Your rebelliousness and tendency to run and hide constantly. It was all just your way to deal with the abuse and hell he put you and your mama through. You'd never had a bad attitude, just a bad home life.

"My daddy built this house. You ain't never done nothin' to earn or deserve gettin' to live in somethin' built with love. Somethin' you've never known a thing about you bastard." you spit at the ground at his feet. His face is still shocked. "I'm here to help Junior put you in the ground. I'm just here waiting for you to die old man, you don't get to have a say over anything I do anymore. You lost that privilege the moment you laid hands on mama you yellow-bellied coward." you back away, hearing Juniors footsteps come back down the hall.

"I've had a very long drive down. I'm going to go get settled in my room now." you turn to smile at Junior. "If you need me just knock, hun." he gives you a youthful smile and an enthusiastic nod. --- Your room is practically untouched and it stirs a lot of things up that you thought you'd forgotten. You try to sleep that night, laying there hearing Cliff coughing and sputtering all night. Every moan and groan you hear fills you with a sick sense of satisfaction. You hoped he'd be meetin' his maker soon enough and he could finally face what he's been brewing his whole life. You saw nothing but fire for the rest of eternity for him. When everyone's asleep and it's past dark, you leave your room. You find barely any food in the kitchen, no soap in the bathroom, the basic things you think you need in a home for it to function as such. You sigh and shove a piece of bread into your mouth, moving back to your room.

You sit on the edge of the bed, looking out your open window, dusty curtains you'd tried to beat out a bit moving in the breeze. You can actually hear the life outside the house as you sit with your eyes shut. You couldn't hear crickets or cicadas or the croak of the fat frogs that live by the creek in the city, only in your memories. You sigh and feel lighter for a moment as you hear a dog bark in the distance.

You stand and move to the window, you hit the toe of your boot into the floorboard, and a big grin moves across your face. You kneel, fingers picking the old board loose and sure enough, right where you'd left it was a jar of shine you'd hidden. You put the board back, unscrewing the jar and taking a whiff and you sneeze, the old smell brings backs memories. You take a sip and cough, leading to another laugh.

The familiarity of it all draws you outside where you sit in a rickety old swing that you weren't sure would hold you anymore, but it does. You rest your head against the fraying rope and look out into the mountains as you sip the nerve easing alcohol.  Little stacks of smoke rising are the only thing that can make you pick out which burning spots are stars and which are stills in the mountains. You smile, thinking about the memories you'd had with the very moonshine you drank. Some of the only good ones actually. And all of them involving Forrest. ---- You've got your finger in his belt loop, following him through a part of the woods you weren't familiar with.

"Slow down Forrest, I ain't as fast as you."

"If you hadn't drank so much you'd be faster."

"Shut up." you grumble. You don't see it but he smiles.

"Ain't much further no how." he says, holding your wrist while he helps you over a fallen tree and down an embankment.

"Well you could've waited until the day to bring me out here ya know. Or when I ain't had so much shine." you whine.

"Well I can't rightly show you this in the day because it don't happen during the day and it's gotta be tonight cause without the full moon ya ain't gonna see it."

"Will I like it?" you ask, your sweet tone, sounding so innocent and earnest make him smile again, only seen by the darkness that surrounds you.

"If I didn't think so I wouldn't be dealing with you and bringin' ya out here would I?" he says obviously.

You pout because he's right. As you make your way up an embankment in an entirely ungraceful way you see the moonlighting his face as he laughs at you before he extends his hand down to you to pull you up. As he pulls you next to him, he places his fingers to his lips to show you to be quiet. He looks over the ridge, overlooking a valley.

You hear wings. Lots of wings as your eyes dart around and focus. You hear a familiar flapping and clicking of bats. The moon was just up and full and bright, illuminating the valley. He takes your hand and sits you down on a log next to him.

"I hear bats, Forrest." you whisper, leaning in close to him.

"I know ya do Tawny. Just give 'em a minute, they gotta wake up." he grins.

And as if on cue a smoke-like cloud of bats erupts from a cave in the mountains. You jump at the sight, your eyes wide, you clutch onto his arm as it startles you, having never seen anything like it in your life.

"I saw you reading that book on 'em the other day, and I thought about this place." he says, watching your face as it sits in awe. "Thought you might get a kick out of it." he shrugs.

"It's amazing, Forrest." you whisper, your eyes moving with the shifting cloud of bats leaving to feast for the night. "I read that they don't even have to see to hunt."

"Seein' as they do it at night I'm guessin' that's helpful."

"It's called nocturnal." you say, finally breaking your gaze and lookin' at him.

"Nocturnal." he nods. "They means they sleep during the day right?" his nose wrinkles in questions.

You give him a surprised and delighted smile. "You're the smartest boy I know, Forrest." you praise, smile still on your face as you look back to the bats.

"And they eat bugs and hang upside down to sleep. Some of 'em can get real big. Big as a fox they say..." he muses, still watching you. "None of 'em like that 'round here though."

"What'd I read the book for when I got my own encyclopedia right here." you giggle, patting his arm.

"I don't know as much as no encyclopedia, don't be silly." he shakes his head. "And you read because you like to I reckon."

He's now looking out at bats, you move your eyes to him, his strong brow and full lips being lit by the moon in a way that made you dizzier than the moonshine did.

"I do like it." you whisper. He's so smart, you think to yourself. Noticing things no one else does. You're touched that he takes the time to notice things about you. No one else did. ---- You fall asleep on top of the blankets of your bed. Your open window leads you to wake early, hearing the sound of the rooster letting you know the sun was about to arrive. You yawn and stretch, changing into something more suitable for a day out. You don't do your makeup, but set and brush your hair so it looks nice and neat. You put on a dress you'd bought in the city a while back. It reminded you of home and you'd never worn it out as your roommate had told you it was the homeliest looking dress she'd ever seen. But she was a dancer and anything that wasn't silk and marabou she thought was less than. The dress fits your womanly shape well. Breasts pushed together, just showing through the overlapping fabric, as it connected with small pearl-like buttons down to the waist. You rolled the long sleeves up to your elbows, grinning while you did so, as it reminded you of working on the farm as the cotton yielded to your hands. The hem hits at your ankles, a swinging skirt of green and white with a white lace trim along the bottom that framed your boots, much nicer and feminine than the ones you'd worn to literal pieces from farm work from wearing them every day, except Sundays, the last time you were home. You pick some greens from the overgrown and neglected garden, still having a few useful things, you pick some dandelions and make up a makeshift breakfast for Junior before you head out to town.

He's not had a reason to hide a smile, not havin' much cause to smile at all as of late. But down the road you came, giving him a reason to again. He clears his throat and finishes his coffee as you pull into a space in front of where he sat on the porch.

You hop out of the truck, revealing the lovely form you'd taken today. He averts his eyes and pushes his chin into his chest. You were prettier than he remembered you being. And he knows for certain he thought you beautiful even back then.

You scale the stairs, he sees your dainty little boots, now clean and shiny, a change he was certainly happy to see. As you lean against the wooden beam that tops the banister, he speaks before he takes in the sight of you too long.

"Miss Tawny" he gruffs out with a nod of his head as you approach him.

"Mister Forrest." you say with a small smile, he narrows his eyes at you, you think it was meant playfully. "I need to pick up a lot of things in town today. Cliff ain't got nothin' in that house and I won't have no brother of mine livin' like that." you sigh and shake your head. "Since it seems you're the man who knows everything 'round here now, I thought you might be able to tell me where's best to go in town? Seein' as I ain't made it down that way yet." you shrug and stand with your hands on your hips, looking at him for an answer, he ponders how you got a dress to match the color of your eyes, and if you knew how well it went with your darker and more red hair than he remembered it being, straying away from the source of your nickname as you got older.

"Well.." he begins,  a gruff noise as he sits forward. "Just so happens I got errands to run in town today." he says as he stands, picking up his coffee mug. "You uhh..." he pauses, looking at his cup before returning his eyes to yours, an unsure expression on his face. "You can come with me if you'd like." another pause, you give him another smile. "I can show ya better 'n I can tell ya 'bout where everything is now." he elaborates.

"That sounds lovely Forrest." you say with a shake of your head, watching him lower his face and grunt, turning to walk towards the door.

"I gotta...put this up, hold on." he mumbles, gone just a moment before returning with keys in his hands. -- With the windows down the drive to town was enjoyable. The company didn't hurt either. "I reckon you and I got some catchin' up to do, don't we?" you grin as you turn to face him in the seat, his cigar, puffing away, the smoke floating out the window. He grunts and nods.

"May I ask about your parents? They were so good to me back then." you say sweetly.

"Spanish flu came through shortly after you left. It got 'em."

"Oh." you say sadly, looking back out the window. "I'm sorry to hear that. Your mama was just about the loveliest lady I've ever known."

"A nod and a grunt in repsponse. "It 'bout got me too." he adds, voice far deeper than you recall, but it has the same effect on you just the same.

"Well thank God it didn't." you say, letting out a heavy sigh. His eyes only move to see you, you're turned back towards him in the seat, his statement making you pick at your nails in your lap. "I admit, I had worried about such a thing on the drive back here. Gave me a lot of time to think." you nod. "But there you were when I pulled in." a smile spreads across your face. "Not the same Forrest I left but.." you shrug and grin, he sees your face look back up at him.

"Not the same Tawny that left neither." he says, glancing over at you for a moment before returning his eyes to the road."

You huff out a laugh. "Oh yeah. Life'll do that to ya." you say with a small chuckle. "What about your brothers?"

"Uh...Howard was in the war." he nods. "Came back but...you probably know men that came back. Lot of 'em...ain't wired right no more."

"Yeah, lots of boys that came into the bar were much the same."

"Bar?" he gruffs out, inflection in his tone.

"Yeah I's workin' in a bar for years. That's where I was when I left." you explain.

"Hmmph." he responds with a thoughtful tone and nod.

"That means you raised Jack all by yourself for a long time, didn't you?" you say with that sad lilt to your words. "Probably after Howard got back too..." you elaborate. He's thankful you're so smart and intuitive. He barely had to say a thing when he spoke with you. He was glad to see that hadn't changed.

He only nods, watching the road.

"You're a good man, Forrest." you say with a sincerity that hurts in his chest.

He scoffs, cigar shifting between his lips.

"You don't think so?"

"Know so."

"You ain't never been bad to me." you say.

"Well ya left, didn't ya?"

The words sting and you look back down to your lap. He hadn't meant to hurt your feelings. He wasn't used to talking to women. He'd have to learn to curb his curtness with you.

"What'd you do up there in the city anyway?" he asks. He sees your face rise to look at him.

"A lot of workin'." you mumble, looking back out the window. "While I's going to school I was a nanny, and I worked in a kitchen for awhile too." your voice is soft as you speak.

"School?"

"Yeah I wanted to better myself, ya know. Learnin's important to grow." you say earnestly. He nods in agreement. A dirty little rascal you left, and although well read by Franklin County standards, you'd returned a formally educated woman, pretty and pressed with starch and perfume.

"I thought maybe I'd get a husband if I got educated ya know." you shrug.

"Thought if I worked hard, both in body and mind that someone'd come along who did the same." you sigh. "Never did though." you frown, his shifting eyes catch it and it brings the pain back to his chest.

"Ain't nobody in the city smart." he says with a shake of his head. You let out a laugh that surprises him.

"After livin' there I'm inclined to agree." you let your laugh fade into a happier sigh. " With so many men I thought my chances might be better but...no one wanted a woman like me."

His face screws up, he turns it to look at you. "Well, that don't make a lick of sense."

You give him another laugh that crinkles the corner of your eyes. And while they're closed he lets himself smile for a moment.

You reach over and put your hand to his arm, "Bless your heart." you move the hand away to wipe under your eyes. "I wish they'd been more like you hun." you sigh and shake your head. "Couldn't find one with manners to save my life." you frown but it's less sad and just slightly annoyed. "Now I don't know why no one would make fun of someone for learnin'. They told me no one wanted a wife that thought and acted on her own, said I kept my head in books too much." you purse your lips. "But I mean, you know that ain't the first time I've heard that." you let out a little chuckle.

"Ain't no one from the city ever had no manners neither." he shakes his head. "Shameful of 'em for sayin' such things. Even more so when we was kids. Boys 'round here should know better." he practically spits out.

You can't help but smile at him. At least he was still a big sweetheart.

Ch. 3

@hardygal69 @jaegeeeeer @parlezvoustomhardy @pootle @negansdirtygirl22 @vale0413 

[thewritewolf]

Ladynoir July Day 6: Secrets

Ladybug and Chat Noir have been a heroic duo for a year now. How do they celebrate the anniversary of their partnership? Brain storming what they would give as gifts was a big part of the fun of this chapter. Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Marinette was putting the finishing touches on the pair of dolls she was sewing. Chat had let slip that he had a pair of exclusive Ladybug and Chat Noir 'action figures,' which prompted an entire patrol where Marinette teased him over the dolls. Of course, she didn't mind whatsoever, but it was nice to get Chat back sometimes with all the flirting he did.

Chat Noir... Her deft needlework paused for a moment as she stared into space. It was going to be a year to the day this Friday when they had been partners for a full year. It felt so much longer. Whether that was because she had gotten to be so close with her feline companion, or because his jokes just made it seem like an eternity had passed, she hadn't quite decided.

With the final bits of velcro sewn into the fists of the dolls, she placed them into the bag she had made especially for them. Her parents would be in bed soon, which meant she would be able to make some late night pastries without any questions, and grab the snacks she had asked her papa to make. She may have lived in a bakery her entire life, but that was no match for the skills he had honed over those years. She left the majority of it to him, but there was something special she wanted to make for Chat, something that her parents couldn't see...

Once it was ready, she added it to the basket of sweets and left for their meeting place as Ladybug.

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What Adrien was doing probably couldn't be considered 'wise.' Wisdom would have been purchasing a few well-chosen gifts and placing them in a nice basket.

But, as Adrien was coming to realize, he was a fool. Once he started shopping for his lady, well... He had worried at first that the basket he had gotten for it was too big, but now, he was having the opposite problem. He had also worried that he wouldn't know what to get her, but the moment he had begun searching, he realized that he had a better handle on what she liked than he had thought.

Although, the secrecy that they had to have between them made shopping difficult. Eventually, he figured that he knew she was overworked and he figured that she would appreciate things for relaxation. And so the gift basket began getting filled. It started innocently, with lotions and body butter. Then the loofa. Then the lotions multiplied into varied scents. Then he found the crowning piece – a series of bubble bath soap chips in the shape of roses.

The final thing added was silk ribbons to tie the basket together – and for her to tie her hair with. He may not know her style (or measurements) out of uniform, but he at least knew she could use ribbons.

With his heartbeat quickening in excitement, he double checked that he had everything before leaping out of his bedroom window as Chat Noir.

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Marinette had, unusually, been the first to show. She was watching the horizon from her vantage point on the Eiffel Tower, swinging her legs idly and humming a Jagged Stone song. She felt Chat land behind her and she could tell he was taking care to make enough noise to alert her to his presence.

She spoke over her shoulder as she began to turn around, “Not going to be the sneaky kitty today?” She had intended to continue the sentence, but caught sight of Chat Noir on the opposite end of the platform. Or, more accurately, she saw the large basket being carried by Chat. It was wrapped in black paper, which was held together with a pair of bright green silk ribbons. She stood up slowly as he grinned.

“Bugaboo! Are you ready to be dazzled?” His winning smile took on a desperate edge as she stormed towards him. “My lady?” She was almost on top of him, and his eyes began to widen in fear. “Ladybug?”

He winced when she smacked him on the arm. She put her hands on her hips and glared at her dumb, over-the-top, partner. “How much did you spend?!”

He blinked owlishly at her. “Huh?” Clearly, he hadn't counted on her getting upset.

“I don't want you to bankrupt yourself buying me gifts!”

To her irritation, he laughed and passed the basket over to her. She begrudgingly took it. “My lady, you really shouldn't worry about that. Besides, it seems you got me something too.”

She spared a glance at the container of sweets she had assembled. Well, he wasn't wrong, but... “I made those myself! I only spent money on the materials.”

Chat stopped midway towards grabbing it. His back was towards her so she couldn't see his face. “You... made something for me?” His voice was uncertain, and wavered.

Slowly, she nodded, unsure of what he was feeling. Realizing he couldn't see that, she said, “Yes, I did. Well, most of it I had help with, but the important stuff I made myself.”

He turned to face her. His eyes were watering and his voice quivered as he stumbled back toward her. “You really are the best partner ever!”

She had to hurry to (gently) set down his gift before he came barreling in to hug her. While this outpouring of emotion was unusual for her 'cool' cat, she felt the sincerity behind it and hugged back. Rubbing circles in his back she murmured, “Oh kitty, kitty.” After standing like that for a few moments longer, Chat seemed to pull himself together and walk back towards where she had been sitting. Marinette retrieved her gift and went to join him.

Chat brought the basket onto his lap just as Marinette sat beside him. Even from where she was sitting she could smell the rush of sweets. She was in a prime position to watch his eyes become like saucers as they danced over the variety pack she had made for him. Macaroons, croissants, a black cake with green frosting that said “Cataclysm.” Wonder turned to curiosity as he found a bag.

A bag labeled, “Partners.”

With a confused glance toward Marinette, who simply gave a small smile, he pulled out the bag, basket set aside for the moment. He undid the string and reached his hand in, pulling out two dolls – one in his likeness and one in her own. A smile slowly formed on his features as he turned them over in his hands.

“They remind me of the dolls the Puppeteer used to control us with. But there is a lot more to these ones than the others.”

Marinette froze for a moment. Wait! Crap! Would he remember where they came from?! She gave a nervous giggle. “Yeah, those ones actually gave me the inspiration to make these. I couldn't remember precisely how they looked, but I thought I'd give it a try.” She smiled mischievously. “Well, the other part of the inspiration was the dolls you were telling me you played with.”

Chat blushed, inspection forgotten as he turned to Ladybug. He whined, “I told you! They are action figures! Entirely different.”

She giggled. “I know, kitty. I'm just teasing.” She took one – the Chat doll – from his not-resisting hand and pointed out the hands. “I added velcro on the fists.” She dug into the bag and pulled out a wooden staff painted in the image of Chat's baton. “So you can stick your pole onto the hands or...” She grabbed the Ladybug doll, which he was more reluctant to part with. “...you can make them fist bump.” She latched their hands together. “Pound it!”

He giggled. Then he seemed to notice the tags at their feet. “What are these?”

“Those are the descriptions I gave each of us.”

He perked up. “Really?” He snatched the Ladybug doll out of her hand. “‘Ladybug - Powers of Creation and Good Fortune. Part of the Bug and Cat team. Chat Noir’s bestest friend.”

She turned the Chat doll over in her hand and read his description aloud. “Most supportive, kind hearted, and loyal partner anyone could ask for.”

It was at that moment she looked back to Chat, who was staring at her, rather than reading over her shoulder as she expected. He was smiling warmly and his eyes watched her tenderly. He pulled her into a half-hug and rested his head on top of hers, whispering, “Best. Partner. Ever.”

The affection got to her for a moment and she blushed. Then she coughed and turned to the gift that Chat had given her. “Anyway! Let's see what you got me.” She gave him a side eye. “I swear, if you aren't eating this week because of this...” She undid the ribbon and let the paper fall to the side. Her eyes went wide with surprise. Much like with Chat's gift, opening this basket had released a mixture of pleasant smells which immediately filled the air.

She could feel herself smiling as she picked out all her favorite scents (lilac, lavender, goji berry, and so on), with strawberry dominant among them. Sorting through the gifts, she saw that a common theme was calm and relaxation – all the ingredients for a perfect spa day were laid out in front of her. Certainly there was enough lotions and bath supplies to last her for months.

Turning to Chat, she said, teasingly, “Are you trying to say that I smell, kitty?”

His dopey smile vanished and she very nearly felt bad before he started verbally falling over himself. She rescued him by gently placing a hand on his cheek. “I'm kidding, Chat! I love it, and I know I'll be getting a lot of use out of it.” His chest swelled with pride.

“Would you care to help me through these snacks, my lady?”

“Only if you are willing to help me through this box of chocolates, chaton.”

They talked and ate and laughed for the remainder of the night, until it could more appropriately be called the morning, when they reluctantly went home to catch a few hours of blissful sleep.

[space-lions-and-imagines]

A Very Merry Voltron Valentine’s ft. Pidge

Alternate title: Lance is a little instigating shit and pidge is a huge sappy nerd

A/N this was done with literally no editing or beta so mistakes be damned! Take my trash and do what you will with it lol

~1900 words

“There is no capitalism in space Lance,” Pidge said with a roll of her eyes as she tried to find the perfect ratio of alien ingredients to make the brown sludge in her cup taste like coffee. “And even if we were on Earth I would still try to fight the good fight against corporate schemes that disguise themselves as holidays. Its evil to try and trademark love,” she said pushing herself onto the counter and taking a long sip. Still terrible but if it was giving her at least some sort of buzz so worth it for the time being.

Nothing, however, was worth seeing that horrible ‘I know something you don’t know’ look that Lance wore so proudly. Pidge frowned, tapping her fingers against the ceramic mug trying her hardest to not ask. Asking would mean giving in and admitting she was curious in whatever gossip he had. Even if she was dying to know why he even brought up the subject of Valentine’s Day she didn’t want to feed into his teenage soap opera ways. Lucky for her though he wasn’t very good at keeping things to himself.

“That is very noble. I’m sure you must have been very popular amongst all your tech nerd buddies who also never had dates. But things are different now pidge! You do have a date and maybe they don’t share the same fight the system inclinations you do,” Lance said with what he must have thought was a very casual wave of his hand as he leaned on the counter opposite Pidge “But if you don’t care that s/o got you something well then that’s none of my business,” he continued looking down to pick at his nails.

Pidge’s first thought was that with the right forward momentum she could easily knock Lance to the floor and force him to tell everything he knew about the gift. Of course that’s probably what he wanted judging by his eyebrows lost somewhere in his hairline and toothy smile. So instead she cleared her throat and said “I have to go. Right now. Immediately. And you still can’t pressure me into this …. No matter what may happen in the future know that you had nothing to do with it!” as she ran out of the kitchen.

Pidge’s time off was supposed to be spent working on some personal projects, mostly working on some of her language courses before the castle started beeping at her and projecting holographic reminders in her room. Now she was desperately trying to figure out exactly what romance was even supposed to be. She had visions of hearts and fat babies with bows dancing around her head as she tried to remember what Valentines was like back home. She groaned, pulling at her hair and slumping onto her bed. “Sure Pidge you’re suuuuuuch a genius. Alien tech, no problem. Giant lion weapon system, no problem. Get your date mate a nice present and suddenly I’m as intelligent as a snail. Ugh no … that’s an insult to snails!” she mumbled grabbing a pillow to scream into.

She did nothing but simmer like that for a long time, the wheels turning and turning in her head to the point she was sure there was smoke coming out of her ears. Then suddenly she sat up right, the fire moving from her brain to her eyes. “I’ve been looking at this all wrong. I can’t figure this out the way Lance would. I have to solve it my way. Besides my way is going to end up being much more efficient and not only help myself but all other romantically troubled people to come!” she announced to her audience of scattered tools and crushed energy drink cans before setting to her new task: finding the scientific solution to the perfect Valentine’s Day.

It was at best a show of her dedication to s/o but at its worst, and somewhere a little closer to the truth, it looked like a conspiracy theorist wall. Pictures and words taped to the wall with multicolored string creating a makeshift obstacle course. Several people had tried to come check on her only to look at the mess, decide it wasn't their problem and walk right back out. Even s/o had been warned about Pidge’s strange project and hadn’t been around except to leave snacks and the occasional ‘remember to drink lots of water!’ note. At long, long last though she was certain that she had the key. A fool proof plan she had gotten all of the details perfected at three o’clock in the morning.

Well almost perfect, she had neglected one detail in her pursuit of scientifically backed romance; she had absolutely no idea where to get any of it. They were currently trying to lay low which meant there was no guarantee of the next time they would be going off ship. The only option she had was to work with what was around the castle … it was going to be a long day.

~*~

Pidge had looked rough before, forgetting to sleep for a couple days could do that but it was nothing compared to how she looked and felt now. It seemed like it was just disaster after another, she tried to not think of it as a metaphor for her life. First it was the flowers, a classic and what she assumed would be the easiest considering Allura had a greenhouse tucked away in the upper stories of the castle. Pidge had found the most appealing colors and shapes, trying to match those she knew from Earth, to create the ultimate bouquet. It was going great until she broke into a rainbow of rashes in some equally as colorful places on her body. That dream was quickly squashed.

Pidge thought that at least she could have a nice dinner and some chocolates to give to s/o, Hunk was a sap for that mushy kind of stuff. Heck he had been making everything heart shaped for month in preparation for the big day! Yet Pidge had all but been laughed out when she brought her requested menu. “Dude I would love to help you and I can do what I can buuuuut this is not Earth. I don’t have anything that’s even close to, what was it you wanted steak? Really, steak? And truffles? Oh man I wish I had access to some chocolate! It’s a nice thought but the best I can do is like a trio of space goo,” Hunk said before Pidge kicked that damned goo machine and left.

The rest of her tasks when just about the same. The closest thing to a stuffed animal she found was the training robots. The shiniest thing she could find to try and make jewelry was scraps of galra tech which just seemed ominous. She had managed to blow up something resembling a balloon but discovered whatever gas she used was very unstable finally leaving her empty handed and half an eyebrow short.

She trudged back to her room late into the night, worse for the ware and completely down in spirits. “This is what I get for turning my back on my morals, karma apparently works over time in space,” she snorted as she belly flopped onto the bed wondering if she suffocated in the sheets if she would be allowed out of the Valentine’s celebrations that she was sure Lance had planned for later the next day. She was perfectly willing to wallow in her own sadness until she was dragged out to see what amazing thing s/o had gotten her when suddenly there was a knock on the door.

Her heart fluttered, knowing who it had to be but almost hoping that it wasn’t. The soft footsteps could only belong to one person and despite the fact nothing was going right Pidge was happy to hear them. After all the trouble and disappointment they were the only person she could think of that she would want to be around. Even if she had nothing to give in return. “Hey there stranger, I didn’t realize we had someone new living in the castle. I have heard a ghost has been roaming as of late though,” they teased as they sat on the edge of the bed with legs crisscrossed. “I did try ghost hunting but haven’t had much luck …. Ya know I missed you Pidge,” they added with quiet sincerity.

It wasn’t posed as a question or even with the air of sad guilt for which Pidge was eternally grateful. It was something she appreciated with their relationship; there was never any need to explain her weird habits until she was ready to talk. “Im a weirdo who doesn’t deserve your patience but I will selfishly accept it,” Pidge said slumping and twisting around until her head was resting in their lap, her arms hugging their waist. “But good news is ghostbusters have stopped by and eliminated all ghosts. I’m back to being my usual annoying goblin of a person,” she said grinning up at them.

“Mmm you are definitely more of a troll but whatever you decide to be, as long as you’re mine again, I’m happy~” they cooed down at her, rubbing her arm and bending down to kiss the top of her head. Pidge gave a content sigh and wanted to bury herself in this moment, get lost in the warmth and serenity of being reunited with them. “Aaaaaaan because you’re mine I kinda got you something. Lance has been on my case about Valentine’s Day, which I personally think is a sort of emotional cop out but I couldn’t resist a chance at arts and crafts,” they grinned, gently scooching Pidge over to reach for something in their pocket.

Pidge expected to be a nervous wreck, feeling so low that she would want to puke but she instead found herself actually anxious to see what it was. The earlier disdain of not being able to make a perfect gift a shadow in the back of her mind, almost laughable in that moment. She held out her hand to accept what she now saw was a card, pushing herself up to get a better view of what it said. On the front there was a cartoonish picture of a galaxy, stars and planets dotting the shimmery blue paper, and bubble letters that read ‘Are you stuck in space Valentine?’ then opened up to a very crude sketch of what was undeniably a butt surrounded by all capital letters in harsh red print ‘BECAUSE THAT ASS IS OUT OF THIS WORLD.’

There was silence for a minute, while s/o sat biting their lip, opening their mouth stuttering about how they weren’t a great artist and that she didn’t have to like it she just thought the joke was funny but they could totally forget the whole thing. Only shutting up when Pidge crashed her lips against their own, laughing into the kiss so hard they seemed to be vibrating against each other, tears wetting their cheeks before they pulled away gasping for air while the last fit of giggles left their systems.

“This is perfect. You’re perfect,” Pidge said, arms wrapped around s/o’s neck with her forehead resting against theirs. They giggled again and kissed the tip of her nose “Only cause I have someone to be perfect for,” they replied with another smile which Pidge happily returned. Again she didn’t deserve someone this amazing but she wouldn’t want anything else.

[thatmexisaurusrex]

The Shotgun Angel: Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2: THE DEVIL’S DEN

  She was a good deal taller than six foot. From what Pearl could gander, almost seven feet. She, like Ortega, felt too perfectly put together to be real. A cloud of black hair, no loose threads on here maxi dress over a white turtleneck, vibrant stockings with thick socks and doc martens. She shouldn’t look so on point. Not with a hodgepodge outfit like that. Yet so she did, standing aloof behind Noel, following her like a lost puppy hoping for scraps.

“We need coupled blood for the look up, give me your blood,” Noel demanded at the priest and the fallen angel, flailing a knife at them casually and gesturing with a particularly copper bowl.

Like that was a normal thing to do.

“What,” was the only thing Pearl could muster before the priest interrupted with a groan.

“Again? Seriously? I feel like we should just ring out a pint every other month so that you don’t have to ask us every time you want to locate people,” grumbled Iker.

“Coupled? What does coupled mean?” Pearl asked, something in her brain short-circuiting.

Ortega curled his arms around the priest like a bad joke, like snakes on prey, eyes lingering on the man who leaned into his touch.

“We called each other our own gods,” boomed Ortega with a tantalizing grin, the priest choking on his own spit.

“That’s not what we did,” panicked Iker.

“Did I not kneel upon the alter of your shrine, invoking eternal and absolute love and devotion to your being?” growled Ortega, which, wow, were all angels this intense, “Bowing to you as my new religion, revoking my rite to holy power and immortality to be at your beck and call, as are you to me?”

Iker looked away as if shy.

“Can we not talk about this here,” he murmured, “It doesn’t help with how we look amongst the children.”

“We are gods to each other, my dear, to follow to the end of our days, and there is no shame to show love. We are stronger when we show and accept our emotions near the children,” drawled the fallen angel.

Noel waved the copper bowl and the knife, rolling her eyes.

“We going to talk about eternal love and happiness or whatever or are we getting this show on the road – they got married for a case, by the way. They just never got divorced afterwards. It’s helpful but also so annoying,” remarked Noel.

Iker grabbed the knife, doing a few impressive tricks before pricking himself and the fallen angel, allowing a few of droplets into the copper bowl. He wiped off the knife, tossing it back at Noel in an honestly unsafe way, but the cursed woman caught the knife and ushered for Pearl to take it as well.

“Excuse me?” Pearl queried.

“He’s your brother. To track him I need some blood from you too,” explained Noel.

Reluctantly, Pearl grabbed the knife. It felt lighter than Pearl assumed, and looking closer, there seemed to be runes etched into the edge. Pearl pricked her finger, allowing a few drips to flow down, mixing in with the blood already there.

Noel bounded about the place as if she commanded rooms, gathering strange herbs in weird hidden spots.

“Stop hiding your things around the place like a strange hoarder or a sneaky thief,” half-heartedly yelled Iker, “Just choose a cubby or something.”

Noel headed back, crushing whatever mess she was making with her bare hands.

“I don’t know, like, a good handful of those words. I mean, what even is a cubby?” grumbled Noel, tossing a lit match into the mash as white smoke bloomed from the bowl, going straight into her eyes and Pearl still wondered if what she said about not being a demon was true.

Noel wobbled, Dru reminding Pearl she was in the room by keeping the young woman steady on her feet. It made Pearl jump. But no one cared about Pearl’s reaction, though. Noel rested her head on Dru’s shoulder, frowning.

“Well. He’s in Hades House,” said Noel.

Pearl wouldn’t have said the room was exactly a pleasant atmosphere before, but the room’s tension felt as thick as a trifle now. Iker stomped towards his office.

“I’m going with you,” said Iker.

“What? No. I can do this. I don’t need a keeper,” said Noel.

“Iker, she can work a case,” said Ortega, stopping Iker, holding his arm, “You don’t do cases anymore.”

“But its Hades House,” growled Iker.

Noel shook off whatever fears her frown hid before, shoulders stiff as she glared at the Iker, grabbing Pearl and Dru as she backed them both towards the door.

“Yeah, so? Been there before. It’ll be no problem. Better than stepping into an unknown devil’s den,” said Noel.

“Don’t worry too much, I’ll be there for her,” said Dru, chiming in for the first time since she woke up from whatever bizarre coma she was in.

Noel pulled them out of that chapel into the streets, the children from before gaggling and giggling as they watched the three leave. There were a lot of those, weren’t there? Strange little children scurrying about the place. Noel swung around, keeping her hold on Dru as she walked to the left, deeper into New Town, down narrower streets.

“What’s this about Hades House?” asked Pearl, “And devil’s dens?”

There was a rage simmering in Pearl. She loathed this. Not knowing things. She made it a point to never be at the mercy of another person, yet here she was, being dragged deeper into what could possibly be a dangerous trap.

“They’re places where darkness lurks,” Noel explained, “Where daemons make their human homes, where deals are made to particularly powerful people. It’s a horrorfest. Best to keep close, for nothing good comes of them.”

Dru nudged Noel.

“I wouldn’t say nothing good comes of them. I met you in Hades House, after all,” hummed Dru.

And for a moment, Noel smiled wistfully up at her shotgun angel. As if she were human. As if emotions can be held in those topaz eyes. That poor girl was either pitifully naïve or obtusely ignorant. Angels could have no such emotions, even if that fallen angel Ortega seemed to be an exception to the rule. Pearl almost felt sorry for Noel.

“Yeah. I guess I did,” Noel said before clearing her throat, turning to Pearl as she added, “But I’m the exception to the rule, okay? Trust me, no good comes of them.”

The first thing that felt wrong was how pristine the building was amongst all the clatter. A tall, smooth, black obelisk of a building with fire spelling out the words “HADES HOUSE” atop, fire lighting the way to the front door. Pearl glanced over to Dru and Noel, hoping for some sort of guidance.

“So, we walk?” asked Dru.

“What? No. Never. Never walk through the front door – I keep telling you that,” said Noel.

Dru rolled her eyes. As if she could be annoyed.

“You keep saying that. It always feels rude,” Dru responded.

“Well, we’re not going for a visit and a cup of tea, are we? No. This is a wreck them up sneak attack, in and out,” said Noel, pulling them around the building carefully.

Dru was noticeably awkward in her sneaking about, despite how graceful her movements seemed to be up until then. Maybe it was the whole sneaking around thing? Pearl was sure angels rarely had to do such things. They never had to with the powers they have. Noel faltered, pausing for a moment and patting herself down, tossing Pearl a breathing mechanism.

“Wear the mask. It’ll filter miasma out,” Noel said.

Dru froze, gazing down at the mask.

“Miasma? I thought that only happened in films,” stuttered Pearl.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s how it is up there in Old Town. Very cushy, good for you. Unless you want long term magicks poisoning, wear that mask,” said Noel pointedly.

Pearl grumbled, positioning the ugly mask and adjusting the straps. It felt…filtered. The gross stale kind that one could smell in the particularly old buildings that hadn’t kept up to date on their air systems.

“Why aren’t you two wearing masks?” asked Pearl.

“Oh. Right. Well, angels have no need of it and, um…due to my particular cursing, miasma doesn’t impact me like most humans,” explained Noel, suddenly stiff, “Too much talk. We’re going in. Follow close. Stay near Dru, she’ll protect you.”

Dru gave an empty smile to Pearl that Pearl guessed was supposed to comfort her, but only made her feel worse about this whole situation. To be watched over by an angel? What a monstrous thought. But there didn’t seem to be any other option but to continue on through with them, close to the strange shotgun angel and the cursed woman.

It was gaudier than Pearl expected. Like some sort of hell-themed funhouse, with bright colors and strobing lights. Whatever mooks drew the short straw for back door duty looked like they dressed circus goes punk, intense exaggerated makeup and sharp yet tule-heavy varied uniforms, like someone went to an abandoned carnival and was told to make clothes out of the broken mirrors and leftover costumes.

One stood up, a man with a fuzzy hat and a tiger-onesy, pulling down his mirrored sunglasses as he blew technicolor smoke from his glass straw. Pearl wondered if this idiot was in charge of the rest of the band around.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t lil’ Noel Baird. Haven’t seen you around in a while. Heard you’re making a name for yourself. Whispers on the street,” he said.

Noel didn’t respond. There was a guttural noise, raw and instinctual, as she moved swift, punching the man straight in the throat. He choked for a second, stumbling, gargling, and falling on his back. His friends stood up, twirling their glass straws as they grew longer into glass-like beacons, like horns, horned instruments, something to blow through.

“No, don’t start,” the man tried to warn his cronies before they all began blowing that rainbow smoke like continuous soap bubbles, a woman with half a tutu, half an intricately woven golden clown costume bringing her hands up as she started ruminating words, pulling out a spell.

Spells were usually so innocuous. Blessings by street artists to make money off of crowds. Short films. Hallucinations of a summer day in a desert of red sand. Floating for just a moment. Pearl didn’t know what was happening here. She’d never seen such a spell before. It hurt to look at it.

Noel sucked in the rainbow smoke like a vacuum, the woman starting her spell convulsing and going into shock. For a moment she kept it in, held it as the people around stared in horror.

“Oh halos and harps, she’s a Sin Eater,” a woman with a one-armed, one-legged full body suit announced, horrified, her glass horn wilting back into a thin glass straw.

Miasma. That was what it was, wasn’t it? The rainbow. Daemon magicks. Miasma. They tried to flee. Pearl was sure of it. The only one smart enough to scramble a mask on was the first man who tried to warn the others, the one who knew Noel. Maybe he was able to because he knew this would be coming. The others had no chance, did they? And just like that, Noel blew the miasma straight at them, skin flaying in her wake, all of them crumbling in pain on the ground.

“You’re sick, you know that?” the man on the ground managed to cough, still impacted despite his mask, “To your own people.”

“You’re not my people,” Noel said, stepping over him and continuing onward, Dru pulling Peal away from the carnage in this room.

They stormed quietly through maze-like hallways that didn’t seem to have any normal logic to them, though, somehow Noel knew the way with ease. Maybe it was a disconnect. She was of daemon, even if she denounced it. How could a human swallow miasma like that and shoot it back out? What even was a “Sin Eater”?

They finally reached a door at the end of a diagonal hallway, ducking away from it and stopping. Noel gave Dru a glance, a talk amongst eyes, before Dru grabbed hold of Pearl. Pearl yelped. She heard of an angel’s touch before, sure. She heard about the odd tingly sensation that could come from it, but she didn’t expect it to feel like constant static shock. Pearl squirmed under the surprise of small pain. But neither Noel nor Dru seemed to care. Noel opened the door, hopping down.

When Dru pulled Pearl in too, that was when Pearl realized the gravity felt off, falling to the ceiling of a gold-plated throne room decorated with gem plant sculptures. He was there. Aria. With his stupid expensive quaff and elaborate three-piece suit. And in front of him, a woman with the most spectacular green eyes, like a grassy knoll. Green. Pearl wondered if green was something in all daemon’s eyes. Or simply a coincidence.

The woman was all muscles. A wall draped in an outfit that seemed made of a big top tent itself. She sat on a chair of funhouse mirrors, arms opening as she noticed the intrusion, smile filled with graded down sharp teeth. Noel stepped forward, glaring.

There was something familiar between the woman and Noel. A flicker between the eyes. Of pain, of hope, of humoring the other – both taking a beat before the lava cooled and malice set in between the two. Pearl wondered if this were a different world, then they would talk like it was normal, work out whatever those looks meant. But there obviously was no wiggle room in this world.

“The Baird child. We’ve missed you. Did you come for the price on your own head? How devious of you, I might have underestimated your gumption,” she said.

Pearl knew she should be paying attention or something, but all she could think about was Aria being stupid, kneeling on the ground, gazing upon this strange green-eyed woman with rapt awe.

“You really think that, Mara? That’s what you’re reading from the situation?” spat Noel.

Mara sighed, kicking Aria to the side casually. He toppled over, rolling several times. Pearl moved to do something, anything, but Dru kept her in place.

“I was hoping you’d grown smarter since then. I thought angels were supposed to be galaxy brains or something dumb like that,” Mara bemoaned, “Azazel won’t like this. He wasn’t happy before, but this? In his own abode? You insult him? Oh, you thought it was dangerous before. Let’s see what he does now.”

Noel shrugged, too casual, like she wasn’t scared of this woman. How could she not be scared? How could she be so cool near some daemon? She even looked like she was enjoying this.

“Oh, I’ve gotten smarter. Something I’ve learned from smaller devil dens is that people without your prowess, without your level of Miasma intake? They keep pockets to break over time. They save up and use wisely, unlike the house of gluttony you run,” explained Noel, “They have to, you see, with their limited resources, their lesser scaled magicks.”

Mara was definitely bored now.

“Your point?” groaned Mara.

“It’s like you always told me,” Noel said, circling the daemon, adjusting her stance, signing something so quickly Pearl wasn’t sure if that was ASL or just nervous ticks.

Noel snapped, electricity flowing from a miasma circle surrounding the daemon. Noel grinned for a moment, victorious, seeing Mara roar in pain. She was definitely loving this. There was something in her. There had to be something in her. It horrified Pearl, she knew Noel was not right.

Whatever success Noel earned was short, the ring of lightning quickly dissipating around Mara. Mara growled, turning to a surprised Noel as the lightning soaks into Noel much like the miasma did for Noel back in that first room.

“You spoiled, ungrateful child,” boomed Mara, her hand slapping Noel over.

Like a ragdoll. She flew, broken in the air, hitting the wall hard. Too hard. Deathly hard. She wasn’t moving on the ground. Was she even breathing? Did Pearl make a mistake choosing Noel’s services?

[cooperjones2020]

Nobodies Nobody Knows, chp. 7

Summary: She is the lamp in Hero’s tower, the scissors in Delilah’s hand, the blood in Guinevere’s bed. She is a million and one metaphors and all of them are his undoing. (Some of the scenes from Second City but from Jughead’s perspective. More a character exercise than a story.)

A/N: Apparently I never posted Second City chapter 10 on tumblr only on Ao3?? So I’ll post that one sometime tonight.

ao3–>http://archiveofourown.org/works/11434950/chapters/26416497

All previous chapters of Second City and Nobodies Nobody Knows under the tag #second-city and on the Who Sings Heartache to Sleep series page on Ao3

When Jellybean yells at him and hangs up their call, he dials his father instead. He expects some sympathy. FP has basically been okay with Jughead co-parenting Jellybean, at least to the extent she’d let him. His dad is a very hands-off kind of authority figure, which is probably for the best. But here, though—Jughead thought his insistence his kids amount to something more than he did would extend to JB going to college.

Instead, he gets an earful about elitism and the shrinking middle class and the earning potential of a technical education. Not that FP uses so many words, but Jughead knows the point he’s trying to make.

He finds out FP has been taking some classes at the same community college JB plans to attend. He wouldn’t admit it, but he’s a little bit proud of them both.

He’s holding his head in one hand, properly chastised, when someone knocks and opens the door.

Betty. He feels the frown melt off his face as he waves her inside. She comes in and leans against the door to push it closed.

“I know, Dad. I know. No, she’s just—”

“She’s eighteen now, Jug. You gotta let her make her own mistakes.” FP’s voice is gruff is in ear.

“Look, can you just talk to her? Maybe she’ll listen to you.”

“We have talked about it.  I don’t have any reason not to agree with her logic.”

“I know that, but you can at least explain my reasons.”

“If you want me to parrot everything I just heard you shout at her from the other room, I’m not getting involved. I might be willing to mention that you have a few points worth considering. Considering, mind you.”

“Fine. Can we come back to this conversation later?”

“If you want. Maybe give your sister a day or two to let off some steam. You do it too. I’m too old to referee your arguments.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Hey—I love you, son.”

“Love you too.” He ends the call and holds his phone in his lap.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” There’s a little red bubble above the messages app. He taps it with his thumb. “Oh, you texted.”

“Yeah, nothing important. How’s FP?”

“Fine.”

Betty makes her “I know you’re sidestepping” face at him. “He is. JB on the other hand…” He lets the sentence trail off. He doesn’t want to involve her in his family drama.

“Wanna talk about it?” But then she comes to sit next to him on the bed, and, suddenly, he does want to talk about it.

“She got into Syracuse but she’s insisting she’s going to stay home and go to community college. Wants to study sound engineering or something.”

“I mean if that’s what she wants to do. You don’t want her spending four years unhappy and coming out of it in debt.”

Jughead barely holds in his scoff. With their father’s income and their background, there’s no way JB would have to pay full-price, and he was fully prepared to make up the difference. He is a pro at navigating the US Department of Education’s financial aid racket.

“But that’s not it. She thinks we don’t know it’s cause she doesn’t want to leave FP. And she’s the one who always insists he’s okay. Tells me I worry too much.”

“How does FP feel about it?”

“He says she’s an adult and can make her own decisions. She’s sure as hell not an adult if she’s gonna screw all her decisions up.” He clenches a fist in the bedspread to his right.

“But you know you can’t decide for her.” Then Betty places a hand on the arm that’s still tensed and for a split second Jughead’s mind goes blank. He tries to remember if this is the first time she’s willingly touched him this decade, beyond a couple of obligatory handshakes and the vice grip she latched onto his abdomen when he drove her home the first night.

“So why the blow up now? Didn’t she have to decide on a school a few months ago?”

“Well, yeah. But I may have thought she was gonna come to her senses and sent in a deposit for her.”

“Oh, Jug.” The look Betty gives him makes him squirm a little. Internally. Hopefully internally. Look. He’s not proud of what he did. But he still thinks it was the right choice. And he wants JB to have options. He can eat a few hundred dollars if he needs to. He’s just still hoping it won’t come to that.

They talk for a few more minutes, Betty’s presence beside him banishing the shadows without his even thinking about it. Then he smiles at her and says, “Hey, let’s go rejoin the party. They’re probably wondering where you are.”

“Yeah, okay.” When they stand to leave, his hand drifts to the space between her shoulder blades as of its own accord. As if it belonged there.

In his inner monologue, he’s been berating himself for hugging her that night. He’d grown used to the constant undercurrent of pathetic longing that accompanied his every day life. He’s been through the five stages of grief, and still this is what he is left with. So he carries it with him. But Betty’s sudden reappearances in his life, and the increasing frequency of those appearances, is making it harder and harder to maintain his equilibrium. He can live with longing. He can live with regret. It is much, much harder to live with want. A want that grumbles in his stomach and shoots through his fingertips every time she gets near him.

He feels even more pathetic for wanting someone who has so clearly moved on.

When they head downstairs, he piles an outrageous amount of food onto a paper plate too flimsy to hold it all up—better grab a second one to reinforce it—and he tries to distract himself. But now, with the memory of her hand on his arm, it’s as if he’s been given permission. The web of gossamer separating them has fallen away. He can’t stop touching her. Just gentle brushes against her lower back, hopefully gentle enough that she’ll think they’re an accident.

And he can’t stop himself from following her when she heads inside to help Mary with yet another in an endless array of party tasks. Never mind she’s not the host. Betty, every iteration of her from four years old on up, loves to help. He used to wonder if it was a conscious thing, an attempt to live up to her parents’ expectations, to compensate for never quite succeeding. But it’s not. It’s just her.

So he walks up behind her where she’s humming and slicing watermelon in the kitchen. But apparently he’s become much stealthier than he used to be, because he scares her and she jolts and slashes her thumb with a fucking huge knife. Crisis mode kicks on and he drags her to the sink and sticks her hand under the faucet.

“Jesus, Betty, I’m sorry. I just wanted to check on you —”

“It’s okay Jug, it’s just a cut. It’ll be fine.”

As if it weren’t already apparent, he still has a thing for her hands, how they hold all the disparate pieces of her. As he suds up his own and begins to wash her cut as softly as he can, his mind records the details. Her wrist, so small in his grip. Tapered fingers and trim nails in contrast his own brown, square digits. Her tiny bird bones where they quiver beneath her skin. The rough little ridges in the heart of her palm. He uses one of his hands to hold hers in place, his thumb hooking over the narrow forearm bone. His other cups her fingers, curling them in his palm, and he passes his own thumb over hers. Just before he finishes, he slips his fingers between hers, entwining them as he rubs their hands together and washes them clean, together, for good measure.

He waits until all the soap suds have disappeared, then says, “Here, come on. I’ll wrap it up.”

Back in the bathroom where he discovered the gift basket, and the lotion, that had tumbled his thoughts into their current mess, he strives to impose order through activity. He sets out: Gauze pad. Medical tape. Neosporin. Hand.

Hand which is still a little wet. He glances around and his eyes land on the hand towel next to the sink. Not a good choice. As much as Mary’s house always looks like something out of a magazine—to the point that he’s sometimes afraid his gawky limbs are going to break something—he does not know how many other people have used this bathroom today, and he does not trust their germs on Betty’s skin.

So he bends his head down and blows on her cut. The sound she makes freezes every atom in his body and sends his blood pressure rocketing skyward.

Order. Discipline. Medical care. He gets through applying the bandage with some form of competency.

She seems to be breathing a little erratically. Maybe she was lying about it being okay.

Then, he notices, he’s moved into the moon of her thighs. He’s still holding her hand, the skin of her wrist velvet-soft beneath his fingers. He never makes a conscious decision to kiss her. But her gaze slides between his eyes and his lips and he’s a goner.

When she kisses him back, he nearly has a myocardial infarction right there on the bathroom floor. When she sweeps her tongue into his mouth, he realizes he did and now he’s dead and this is heaven.

But if it’s heaven, he will not be rushed. He has eternity to relearn the contours of Betty’s mouth, the taste of her skin.

When he moves to her neck, she lets out a small noise that acts as an AED on his nervous system. He’s not dead. He can’t be doing this. It’s wrong. And he tries to tell her so.

“We’re not doing anything. We’re making out in a bathroom.”

Jughead laughs before he can stop himself. It’s funny for a lot of reasons he doesn’t have the blood flow to pinpoint right now, but Betty’s absurd clinging to the barebones facts of the situation only just barely makes the list.

Then Betty wraps her arm around his neck and commandeers his mouth, and he’s in no position to put up further protest for a while. The words escape him. She escapes him. Her details overwhelm him and he lets them drag him under.

Eventually, his frontolimbic network convinces him to try again.

“Betty, stop. There are things I need to—”

“Later.”

He makes a concerted effort to stop her. To tell her. He does. But, really, nothing he has to say about himself is worse than anything she already knows. If she wants to do this, even with everything between them, maybe he can be a little bit selfish.

With that unsatisfying thought, his brain goes offline. She’s worn him down with her noises and her tongue and the feel of her finally, finally, beneath his hands.

By the time she threatens to bite him, he’s about ready to crawl out of his skin and into hers. He tilts her head back and sucks his way down her neck. He times it so he circles his hips against her as he nibbles on her collarbones.

Then a knock sounds on the bathroom door. Fuck his life.

When they make it back to the party, they don’t talk about what just happened. But the evening passes pleasantly, peacefully enough. He still touches her and she doesn’t startle. But he doesn’t want to make any assumptions, doesn’t want to scare her away. So, like they said. Friends. It’s more than he ever hoped for. It isn’t enough.

[maevelin]

I loved your Kc meta on how Caroline is the last vampire left standing and although i pretty much agree to everything you made a comparison of Caroline's situation the the Salvatore's, the OG's and Katherine's but it's really not the same. Caroline will lose her home and everyone she ever loved. Everyone. And this will happen gradually. But for the others the had the knowledge that their family was still alive. and as for katherine she had already lost her family before she was a vamp.

To which meta are you referring to because I have occasionally written many from one liners to gifs to dissertations lol

I am assuming you are referring to this one: (x)

And this part in particular?

Caroline Forbes ending up the only vampire in a show that is meant to be based on the vampire genre is an honor and a homage to everything this show once stood for. Every vampire of the show faced the same destiny you describe here. Damon, Stefan, Katherine, the Originals. And yet when their stories began and they were introduced to the audience everyone took in their story expecting to feel their age and get to know their ageless journey throughout the centuries. No one complained about their predicament. Everyone wanted to get more into it.

If so then I think you lost my point at the start a little. The point I was trying to make at the first part of my meta was how TVD was a vampire show that was not meant to revolve around human lives and be constricted to human morality and conventions and the idea of how a human life evolves through time. We as fans were meant to see through the darkness and the eternity and enjoy characters that were eternal creatures of the night that happened to suck blood and live throughout time. Yes every story can give messages and have parallelism between art and reality but in the end every fictional story is different. Every story uses different dynamics. TVD was based on vampire mythology with everything that came along with it. With the monster that lurks beneath the skin and eats people for lunch. With the promise of forever also. It was a show that was never meant to be about dreams of white fences and grandchildren and defanged vampires in its essence. It was meant to be a story based on the vampire lore with vampires that shared the same destiny of immortality and vampirism and so when Caroline became one she shared in the same sense the same nature and hardships every other vampire introduced in the show did. The good and the bad. The beautiful and the ugly including the prospect of forever with everything that came along with it. Not everyone would experience it the same way but it was a common theme of the species. And when the show began NO ONE complained about the vampires being...vampires. No one nagged about their predicament. Every tragic aspect of their nature along with every great one was highlighted and became a great story to be told. The weird mentality that vampires need to be humanized and should follow the ordinary lives of humans despite their nature became a thing in the minds of the fans when TVD stopped being a vampire sci-fi show and became a Dawson creek soap opera.

This was why Caroline as a character became a fan favorite to begin with. Because her best storyline that boosted her popularity was her transition to being a vampire in S2. Because she loved being a vampire. Because she excelled at being a vampire. Because she shined when she became a vampire character. Imagine that really... Fans that chose to watch a VAMPIRE show got to love the VAMPIRE characters and were intrigued by them. The most popular fan favorite characters with the biggest traction in the TVD universe had been vampires and were loved only as such. People got to rage about them in particular with violent obsession because they were serving the vampire genre and this was why people had originally tuned in with TVD. Damon Salvatore, Katherine Piece, Stefan Salvatore, Caroline Forbes, Klaus Mikaelson, Elijah Mikaelson, Rebekah Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson. All awesome vampires that were great at being vampires in one way or another either as dark characters or tragic ones or something in the between.

So in a show like TVD that centers around the diaries of a VAMPIRE (from title, to theme, to genre, to presentation, to the basis and core of the show) having one character ending up the last vampire standing is a homage to the glory days of the show. To the very core of the show. To what the show should have been and what it once was. And that was Caroline. The one vampire that loved being a vampire. The one vampire that did not want the cure. The one vampire that persevered and relished at being ageless and strong and was better off with fangs and bloodshot eyes. And if the show’s quality had not deteriorated to the point where people were seeing a human-esque soap in the end no one would see the conclusion of Caroline’s story as something other than great.

Now as for the rest. For Katherine’s case for example, as you mention it in your ask, what does it matter if you lose your family before or after you turn? The end result is the same. The feelings are the same. The prospect of immortality under those circumstances is the same. In the TVD universe thousands of vampires exist. Not all of them have families. And for those that do it is not always unicorns and roses and they can get into very dark codependency paths. Sometimes family can break you and be abusive and promise you only misery and living with that burden for centuries and forever can be very tragic also. Having a family should not be glamorized by default. Sometimes you make your own family with friends and chosen ones. Sometimes you walk alone. Sometimes you do everything in different times.

Because in the end of it all every story is unique. Every person is unique. And family is not always blood. And feelings do not have a beginning and an end. You do not know what tragedy or what miracle each day will bring.

And let me turn this into a bigger rant because I get so mad when people create certain expectations and boxes for life. When people in this case pity Caroline because they have in their minds that life is a bleak place when certain things do not happen or when others do.

Yes life can be tough but no one can predict what will happen tomorrow. I have not watched TVD ever since season 4 but from the blogs I follow I am under the impression that Caroline fell in love with Stefan when he was still a vampire. Him becoming human and dying was not part of the plan. Neither Stefan or Caroline could have predicted their tomorrow. And that atrocious pregnancy of hers was also something unpredictable too in the narrative.

And this is life. Some may choose to see TVD as the end of Caroline’s story. Some like me choose to see it as her origins story. Just the beginning.

Even if Caroline was human how old would see be? 20? 24? So what would she do if she would lose everyone in her life at that age? Wouldn’t see move on? Wouldn’t see live? One day at a time. One tear. One smile. And you know that happens in real life too.

The same goes with Caroline’s life now. For every loss she will have a gain. Vampirism comes along as a blessing and a curse and this is why stories that include this myth are so popular. Vampirism gives eternal life and youth in Caroline’s case and beauty and powers and demands blood and even loneliness and greatness and wretchedness and dark and light. Time flows and cultures and societies rise and fall. An epic journey made for legends.

That is Caroline’s path. Some people chose to survive it, some others quit; and Caroline Forbes was not presented as a quitter. She was a survivor and no one can take that away from her. And pitying her like that is as if all her journey in TVD went unnoticed. Caroline Forbes can outlast and outlive torture and horror and terror and will do it with a smile. She is not weak. And she will get to live lifetimes with every lesson and hope and aspiration she has. You can try to put certain characters into archetypes but some are beyond them. Some can rise. Some don’t just survive. Some thrive while doing so.

And life does not end with heartbreak and it most certainly does not become a burden because of it or futile. I do not understand where this absurd notion is coming from. Life does not begin and end with a relationship that went wrong or with the death of a loved one or with pain and calamities. Or even with you ending up alone. You mourn. You grieve. You get up. You move on. You rebuild. You get to choose what makes you and what breaks you.

Caroline Forbes was presented as a strong optimistic character. She survived abuse and horrors and deaths. Where other fell she stood tall. She did not conform to what others expected from her. When someone told her that she could not do something she proved them wrong and she did it without losing her bubbly energetic personality. Her strength and her survival instincts have really deep roots. Either she has a family waiting for her or even when her own family planned to kill her (Liz in S2) or tortured her (Bill in S3) ...and even then she survived the pain and she was willing to live and retain her heart and she did it while she kept loving being a vampire (with or without family). This was never something Caroline negotiated. She kept fighting. And that is a great story to be told. And the fact that she remained the last vampire standing while everyone cried and broke was not a mistake or an accident.

And who can tell what her tomorrow will bring? Even when you get at your lowest there is always hope. Life is beautiful and a mystery. How more people Caroline will love? What kind of family she will be able to make in the future is she wishes it so? Just one? How many people she will meet? How many will touch her heart? What will she lose? What will she gain? Who will she become? What inventions will she see in their making? How many sunsets and stars will inspire her? How will she shape her life? What ties will she make with people and places? How many will break and which ones will remain unbreakable? What epic journey will come ahead?

We do not know. She does not know. And that is the beauty of it. Life is a journey. With its ups and downs and turns and twists. An unpredictable journey. Either it is for a few decades or more in such stories. And I honestly do not understand why people lament the unknown future in Caroline’s case when in reality it is just one more great story waiting to be told.