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sortasirius · 2 years

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Harringrove week day 2: The Annual Henderson’s Haunted House

Words: 1826

“I am not working a haunted house.”

“Oh come on,” Dustin pleaded, “I promise it’ll be fun!”

“Henderson,” Steve sighed heavily, “I am not, I repeat, not helping you with a haunted house when I could be out doing other things. Like- Like going to a party or something.”

“You don’t go to parties anymore,” Dustin pointed out unhelpfully, “You just sit at home or go to work.”

He folded his arms, pretending like that wasn’t true.

“I have a social life outside of you, Henderson, you just don’t see it.”

Dustin rolled his eyes, then immediately switched tack to that stupid puppy dog thing that didn’t work.

“Please Steve? Jonathan is going to be there. And Robin. So really you have to be there.”

“I’m not a good actor,” he hedged, “That’s Robin, not-”

“You don’t even have to do anything like that, just help me set it up.”

“Look-”

“I’ll give you free beer!”

Now that brings Steve to a screeching halt.

“And where are you going to get beer?”

“I have a contact.”

Steve laughed.

“A contact? What does that mean?”

“It means I can get you beer, do you want in or not?”

“I can get my own beer.”

“Free beer Steve! As much as you can drink!”

And Steve folded. Well, he told himself it was for the free beer, but really it was down to the fact that Henderson’s puppy dog face really did work on him.

So he was forced into a chair in the middle of the afternoon on Halloween, having been told to take the entire day off to “prepare” for the haunted house that night.

“Come on,” he complained as Dustin, Max, and Will started circling him like a flock of vultures, “Where’s Robin? Isn’t she in on this too?”

“Yeah, but she’s with Lucas, Mike, and El getting more stuff for the house.”

“So I’m the guinea pig?” he flinched away as Max stabbed him with an eyebrow pencil, “Ow!”

“Don’t be a baby,” Max told him, stabbing him with the pencil with far too much force, “It’s all part of the vision.”

“And what’s the vision,” he turned, coughing slightly as Will pulled out what looked like a vat of baby powder, “I’m not playing Scarface, am I?”

“My mom wouldn’t let me see that movie,” Dustin complained, attempting to put something in Steve’s hair.

Now that was a bridge too far.

“You aren’t touching my hair,” he said forcefully, “You said I wasn’t even acting. Why do I have to be dressed up?”

“We can’t have a Dawn of the Dead haunted house without zombies, Steve,” Will said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah,” Max was scrawling outlines of something all over his face, “It’d be the stupidest haunted house ever if you were just walking around like normal.”

“I can be intimidating,” he said feebly as Dustin started smearing makeup on his face, making him feel like one of the dolls that he used to see Holly Wheeler play with.

He was only met with laughter, which was a little insulting.

By the time kids started to arrive to the haunted house, which Mrs. Henderson had finally allowed Dustin to commandeer the entire cellar for, Steve was fully “transformed” as Dustin said.

By “transformed” it really meant that he was slathered in makeup that he was pretty sure they had stolen from the high school’s theatre, and looked less like a zombie and more like a victim of a full body bruise.

But the kids and Robin were laughing, and though he was painfully sober, Dustin swore that he would make good on his promise for free beer, and Steve was really too busy to worry about it.

First he was helping Will count off kids into the house, then he was helping them exit, then he was helping Mrs. Henderson get more candy from the store, since he was the only one who could drive, finally ending up, at Dustin’s insistence, walking through the haunted house with the youngest groups, just so they didn’t “get into trouble.”

“I’m going for a smoke,” he finally told Dustin after several hours of nonstop running around.

“You don’t smoke,” Dustin responded at once, shooing yet another group towards Will, “Come back here.”

“Not until I get my beer!” he called, already halfway across the dark yard. He leaned up against the shadow of the house, listening to the laughter and shrieks coming from down the hill, the low murmur of Mrs. Henderson and several other parents inside the house, and the crunch of someone approaching in the dark from the direction of the street.

Steve squinted against the orangey glow of the street light as the person approached him, wishing he had a cigarette just so he wouldn’t look so stupid, posted up under the eaves of the house in the dark, away from everyone else.

“Harrington?”

Oh perfect. Billy Hargrove in a leather jacket and a far too tight t shirt, hair slicked back and a grin on his face. Just what Steve wanted.

“Hargrove? What are you doing here?”

“Here to pick up Max, you seen her?”

But Steve was staring shamelessly at the way the fabric of Billy’s light blue t shirt stretched taught across the muscles of his stomach.

“King Steve, you with me?”

“Huh?” he tore his eyes away from Billy’s torso, flicking up to meet his eyes.

“Have you seen my shithead sister?” he repeated, eyes raking over Steve’s face.

“Oh, she’s in there scaring kids,” he pointed down the hill, “She’s made at least four people cry.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, blowing smoke into the chilly fall air, “You want a beer?”

Steve watched his mouth wrap around the cigarette, feeling like his brain was moving through molasses.

“You have beer?”

“Gotta come prepared.”

Something clunked into place in Steve’s mind, and he pushed away from the house, moving towards Billy, his eyes narrowed.

“Are you Dustin’s beer contact?”

Billy stared at him, evidently confused.

“Am I what?”

“He said,” he gestured uselessly towards the cellar, where the sounds of laughter still emanated, “He said he had a contact that could get him beer.”

There was a pause, where Steve shifted his weight anxiously from foot to foot, watching the cigarette burn between his fingers.

“You think I’d be the beer supplier for underage kids?”

Steve opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Now he came to think of it, it did come across as pretty shitty.

“Not it- Yeah. Yeah.”

“I wouldn’t waste my money on beer for people that won’t even enjoy it,” he said almost imperiously, leaning forward to get into Steve’s personal space.

“Yeah well,” he looked at the ground, not wanting to meet his eyes, “That’s probably a good call.”

“So do you want one or not?”

Steve’s eyes snapped to him.

“One what?”

“Come on, Harrington,” he smiled so wide and sharp it felt like he could cut glass, “You’d appreciate a beer, yeah? You look like you’ve been put through the ringer.”

Steve didn’t really know why his heart was racing like he had just run a race, but Billy’s lips were pinker than usual and he smelled like hairspray and cheap cologne.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What’s the theme of this thing?” Billy countered, “You look like you got the shit kicked out of you.”

“It’s zombie themed.”

“Those zombies get some good hits in?”

He snorted, pushing a hand through his hair, trying to pull himself together.

“What are you even supposed to be?”

“You ever see Grease?”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Robin made me watch it. It’s a girl’s movie.”

“That’s a fucking lie,” he said easily, pulling a beer out of the inside of his jacket and tossing it to Steve, “It’s good.”

“You dressed up as Danny Zuko? Is that what you’re saying to me?”

“Nah, his friend.”

“Kenickie?”

“You aren’t a fan, but you know all their names?”

He flushed, which fortunately Billy couldn’t see because of all the makeup splattered on his face.

“I have a good memory.”

“Somehow I don’t believe that’s why you remember it, baby.”

Steve felt his stomach drop to his shoes. The pet name made him squirm, made the tips of his fingers tingle with the desire to reach out and touch.

This was a sensation that wasn’t necessarily new…but it certainly had gotten worse, and it seemed to key up in intensity every time they got anywhere near each other.

“You have no proof of anything, Hargrove,” he tried to straighten up, do that thing he used to do, shoulder checking another guy in the hallway at school, because boys who do that don’t like other boys.

Which of course, all went out the window when Billy’s lips caught the light.

“Are you wearing lipgloss?” Steve asked, his voice cracking slightly under the pressure of his words.

He smiled wider.

“Just a little for the occasion, pretty boy,” he said quietly, “Why? You like it?”

Steve did like it, which was incredibly confusing, and he didn’t have the words (or the thoughts for that matter) to understand it.

“It’s…fine.”

Billy laughed, a pretty sound that cut right through Steve.

“How about that beer?”

“Yeah,” he rubbed a hand down his face, then pulled his palm back black and red and blue, makeup streaked all over his face, “Fuck, I really fucked up my look, didn’t I?”

“You did, still pretty though.”

Steve swallowed with a click. He had no idea how to respond when he talked like that. It was so…genuine, like he really felt that way.

“I- So’re you.”

Billy’s eyebrows raised just slightly, just a hint of surprise marring his face.

“You think so, do you?”

Steve didn’t know why he felt so bold, why he was talking like this, but the words were just falling out of his mouth before he could even attempt to stop them.

“I mean…I have- Eyes.”

“So you do, Harrington. Let’s get you that-”

“Steve!” Dustin’s voice cut through the tension like a hatchet, “Come on, we need you back!”

Billy’s mouth lifted in a half-smile.

“When are you done babysitting? Or working? Or whatever it is you’re doing?”

“Some might call it servitude,” he deadpanned, earning a chuckle from Billy, “Hoping not past eleven.”

“You drive here?”

“Yeah,” he said too quickly, trying to backtrack immediately, “I have to uh, take Robin home.”

“And after that?” he was in Steve’s space again, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe, “What’re you doing then?”

“Washing this makeup off,” he decided to be a little bit bold, “Maybe having a beer with someone.”

His grin was wide again.

“Hm. Seems like you might need a drinking partner then.”

“Seems like it. We can go to mine.”

“I’ll be waiting for you, pretty boy.”

#harringroveweek #harringrove #my writing #tomorrow is spooky i promise i just couldnt stop writing fluff lmfao

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hopeamarsu · 2 years

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Whumptober Day 2: Nowhere to Run

Whumptober masterlist

Pero Tovar, William Garin

Rating: Mature

Word count: 699

Warnings: Major Character Death, death, battle, blood, revenge

Summary: Pero always knew he'd die on the battlefield, but that day is not today.

Cornered | Caged | Confrontation

He was always sure he’d die with his boots on and holding his sword in his hand, but Pero Tovar didn’t think it would be like this, ambushed in the middle of the forest with just William Garin by his side.

William Garin who had fallen.

Had he just been knocked out or killed, Pero didn’t know. He’d only seen his friend's eyes flash towards him in fear or something else Pero didn’t want to name before they fell shut slowly and the man crumbled to the ground with a loud thud.

There was no time to grieve though, the armed group advancing on Pero now from all sides made sure of that. They had gleaming eyes, rotten teeth, and the smell of death that permeated their skin prickling Pero’s nose as they moved closer and closer. He was cornered from all sides, his back nearly pressed against the ancient rock formation.

“Yer all alone now, merc. Wish ye join yer friend or shall ye bargain fer ye life?” The leader spat out, the words both insulting and taunting. Pero’s eyes narrowed, his hand slowly pulling out the second sword he’d kept strapped to his back until now. He might be cornered, but that didn’t mean he had nowhere to run.

With a hungry look in his eyes, Pero jutted his chin out in defiance. “We shall see who joins the afterlife, amigos. Don’t know about you, but I am liking my odds,” He knew his words would goad them and it was exactly what he wanted. The first of the group stepped out, his own hunger for blood taking over and Pero knew he had his target. He charged, both swords at the ready.

It was a blur after that, a cacophony of feet shuffling in the ground mixed with pained grunts and metal clashing against metal. First blood was drawn and the sound of torn flesh joined in the panting that filled the air. A flock of birds flew off a nearby tree when someone thumped against its bark only to not rise up again.

Pero sliced through one of his opponents, his own hands slick with both his own sweat and blood and the blood of his enemies. He didn’t think, he acted on pure adrenaline and base instincts, the will to live far too great to be diminished just yet. He turned, swirling on his feet to meet the sword aimed at his back by the leader of the group - the only one left standing opposite him.

“You are good. But that black powder belongs to me!” The leader grunted, a glint in his eyes teling the story of how he’d already gone mad over the idea of the powder and the power it yielded. Had Pero been feeling any less murderous by William’s demise, he might’ve laughed.

“You think I have any powder with me?!”

“Yes! And it will be mine!” the man yelled, charging forward again. Pero twisted, the sword aimed at his chest missing by mere inches. The two men stood at the clearing, bodies of others thrown around like dolls in a children’s room, panting and bleeding profusely. Pero huffed, his breath coming in short and ragged, his hand never shaking under the weight of the swords he still held up and pointed towards the aggressor.

“What’s mine shall never be yours,” He told the man, his gaze turning freezing and his tone low. A darkness seemed to rise from his shoulders, wrapping the sun in its cloak and making the ground shiver under the sudden coldness.

Pero seemed to grow in width and height, the dangerous aura around him sweeping to nip at the feet of the other. He could see the other man realize just the depth of trouble he was in, his sunken eyes widening in fear and his hand going slack with his sword. Pero grinned, his teeth stark white against the dark veil suddenly on top of them both. He took a single step forward, his voice booming through the woods and the rocks.

“You’ve taken my friend from me. The payment for a life is a life and I intend to collect on that debt.”

#Mwhumptober #whumptober 2022 #pero tovar #pero tovar fanfiction #william garin #tw: major character death #battle #cw: blood #whump #hopeamarsu #nro.2 #cornered #confrontation #whumptober2022 #fic

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shadowofmoths · 11 months

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🧵🪡🖍🔨(I would like more Muppet crafting facts plz if u don't mind)

absolutely !! 🧵: ok so this is a fact about yoda and thats because hes mostly technically a muppet and i dare anyone to fight me on it . anyways at the time there was not a lot of experience of making lifelike muppets that were intended to be believable as living creatures (the dark crystal would significantly advance things in that realm) so yoda was pretty experimental. they did a great job making him lifelike, but he ended up being this massively heavy doll made out of nonpliable rubber, with these giant fuckin cables connected to him to control the mechanisms for his eyes and ears etc. so just a ridiculously difficult puppet to operate, but a great practice experiment for the lifelike puppets they;d need to build for dark crystal! 🪡: i was thinking recently about a new muppet that was designed for the disney+ electric mayhem show, and how she just does not work at all even a little. in my non-expert opinion this is because she does not follow two very key muppet design principals, one of which is the "magic triangle"-- the idea that the triangle btwn the eyes and nose/mouth determines the whole personality of the character. the other is that early muppets are SO defined by their simplicity . like, most of the members of electric mayhem dont have eyes. muppet craftsman don sahlin rly focused on taking jim's design sketches and simplifying them into their key elements. kermit is just some eyes, dude, 🖍: this has gotten rly out of control . um . certain muppets are flocked, so like, covered in fuzz, essentially, but the way they do it is. take the muppet. add adhesive. dust em with the flocking material like theyre a powdered donut. and then fuckin electrocute them so the flocking material will like, stand on end essentially. miss piggy is like this, as are stadler and waldorf! 🔨: kermit was originally made out of a random coat jim took from his mother. eventually though they found a really nice sturdy green fleece to make him out of, but when they ran out of that particular fleece it was difficult to find more so they had to redesign kermit because the fabric weight would be different (it either required a double layer of a thinner fleece, or they'd have to redesign the body to be a bigger body so a thinner fabric could accomplish the same thing! another materials problem they had is that the large turkey feathers that were used for big bird are no longer available so they had to redesign him as well

in case you have time to kill and want to watch some interviews with muppet builders, these (1, 2) are some i found while checking my sources on some of this stuff !

#asks #ok i gotta stop with muppet facts i love you all so much for letting me od this #void-flesh

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lastfrontierh · 2 years

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Snowsports Directory Heliskiing

And for adults-only atmosphere, soak up the Prohibition-era vibes and stay tunes at Clevelands Lounge, positioned within the historic Boulder Dam Hotel’s basement. A beginner-friendly, about-a-mile-long walk carries you up to breathtaking views of Lake Tahoe, the place, positive sufficient, a bunch of cute little birds simply might flutter down to say hello. As the most Heliskiing mountainous state in the Lower 48 , Nevada naturally guarantees top-notch skiing, driving, and more—and not simply around our slice of world-famous Lake Tahoe. Both ships were purpose-built as a base camp to chill out and indulge after immersive Zodiac outings led by skilled expedition guides. Kartalkaya is a ski resort positioned within the Köroğlu Mountains, in Bolu Province, Türkiye.

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Skiers and snowboarders who save up a wad of money (think $1,000-plus for a six-run day) and have respectable skills can star of their very own massive mountain film. And belief us, family and friends will flock to see the POV footage, because even when your turns aren’t on par with Davenport’s, the bird’s-eye views and helicopter drop offs might Heliskiing be captivating. Our regional heli-ski excursions supply connections to Telluride by way of Aspen, Vail, and Steamboat. For those that choose to earn their turns, our most knowledgeable backcountry guides can present you the hidden gems of the San Juan Mountains by way of guided backcountry ski excursions.

If you have not experienced Big Sky Resort, then you have not experienced The Biggest Skiing in America. Arapahoe Basin Ski Area opened in 1946 with one tow rope and a $1.25 carry ticket. It now provides more than 1,400 acres, nine lifts, a kids center and a brand new European bistro at 12,500 toes with panoramic mountain views. A-Basin is called The Legend for having one of the longest ski and experience seasons in the Heliskiing world. The Basin is also a pure skier’s and snowboarder’s mountain and welcomes anyone and everyone whether they’re learning for the first time, in search of a critical problem or simply tailgating with associates on The Beach. Regardless of what you’re carrying in your ft, heli-skiing and heli-boarding are comparable to other deep-powder backcountry experiences.

In addition, state-of-the-art grooming capabilities make the groomers at Steamboat a few of the world’s greatest. The terrain is properly dispersed, allowing skiers of all skills to explore the mountain, progress, and even ski together. Collineige is pleased to offer a 15% reduction to Mountain Collective Passholders for many weeks, and 10% for peak weeks . For full chalet bookings of every week or more, they give you a day with a rigorously chosen mountain information to introduce you to the skiing in the area. Niseko United is one of Japan’s premier ski resorts, with over 2,000 acres of skiable terrain cut up over 4 resorts - Grand Hirafu, Niseko Village, Hanazono and Annupuri.

Home to several seasonal Christmas markets and an out of doors ice rink downtown, a twinkling Winter Light Spectacular is just a 30-minute drive away. These tales below are our favourite reads with which to settle into your favourite cozy chair with a cup of espresso . Then go plan a ski journey of your personal to celebrate the brand new year. Currently, rehabbing a 1924 Tudor, giving new life to old furnishings and hunting for door knobs have become a main factor in my life and keeps me busy. I also enjoy taking half in within the filth , which at all times leads to something delicious and edible. Kristy enjoys operating when and if her toddler permits her to, as nicely as reading and writing.

Niseko United is located on Japan’s northern island of Hokkaido, a 2 hr flight from Tokyo to Sapporo-Chitose, the region's main airport. Steeped in ski lore and legend, and made famous by Hollywood’s elite, Sun Valley Resort right now is a premier year-round vacation spot resort drawing guests from around the world. Nestled 6,000 ft high among the many mountains and ranchlands of south-central Idaho, Sun Valley is surrounded by nearly a million acres of alpine magnificence.

#heliskiing

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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levi-supreme · 2 years

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Rei's Birthday Event: Hanami date with Levi

Characters: Levi x fem!reader

Genre: Modern!au

Warnings: SFW, fluff. References to Japanese culture and food.

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: Thank you to @hauntedhousecat for this lovely request!! A hanami date with Levi is literally what I want in life. There will be terms and references to Japanese culture and food, and I'll leave them in the footnotes, so please read till the end!

Read the original request here.

"Levi, did you pack the trash bags?" You shouted from the kitchen while wrapping some onigiri you made.

"Yes, brat, I did. Also, the paper towels and wet wipes are here already."

"What about the mat?"

"It’s here. Stop worrying."

Packing the onigiri inside some tupperware boxes, you urged Levi to come in to the kitchen.

"Come on, let's start making the snacks." You excitedly put on Levi's apron for him, getting started on making the snacks. Levi started beating up eggs into a large bowl, preparing to make tamagoyaki. Levi also threw half a packet of karaage into the air fryer, letting it do its work.

You prepared to make the hanami dango by mixing glutinous flour, silken tofu, and white sugar into a large bowl, mixing the mixture with your hands. Once everything was homogenous, you separated the dough into three different bowls. Levi helped you add matcha powder into one bowl and started mixing it while you added some pink food colouring into another bowl, mixing the dough, leaving the last bowl with white dough.

As Levi was done making the tamagoyaki, he helped you divide all the dough into equal pieces, rolling them into little balls. Adding the glutinous balls into boiling hot water, Levi packed the tamagoyaki and karaage into tupperware boxes, putting them inside a large picnic basket. You looked for some bamboo skewers and prepared a bowl of ice water.

Once you saw the glutinous balls float, you quickly sieved them out and added them into the ice water, stopping them from cooking. Levi then took one green ball, one white ball, and one pink ball, and skewered them on a bamboo skewer, leaving them on a plate. Levi continued helping you skewer the dango while you helped him wash up the dirty utensils, cleaning up the kitchen. Looking at the clock on the wall, it was almost 9 am. There might be people flocking to the park soon.

Thankfully, Levi was done skewering the dango and you helped him pack them inside a tupperware, taking out some small plates and forks. Once everything was packed in the picnic basket, you went back into the room and looked for a nice outfit. The weather was starting to slowly warm up, but the wind still felt a little chilly. You settled for a white turtleneck top and layered it with a long floral spaghetti strap dress that was fitting for the occasion. Levi also decided to put on a knitted sweater and black pants. You went to doll up while Levi went to style his hair. Grabbing your matching coats, Levi took the picnic basket, his phone, and car keys, and waited for you while you put on your shoes. Levi offered his hand to you once you were done, and the both of you left the house.

"Wait!" You suddenly shrieked, and Levi cocked his eyebrow.

"I forgot to bring the camera!"

You quickly rushed back in and unplugged your camera from the night stand.

The both of you stopped by a convenience store, grabbing some yummy ready-made bento box, sakura mochi and some bottles of Ramune. You also convinced Levi to let you buy some sweets and chocolate as well, although Levi left the convenience store with a slight frown.

When the both of you arrived at the park, you were pleased to see that it wasn’t crowded yet. There a few couples and families whom definitely had the same thinking as you for they reached the park even earlier than you and Levi, and were trying to find a nice spot to sit. While walking around, you managed to find a nice, empty spot. It was underneath a large plum tree, and you excitedly grabbed Levi's hand.

"Ah, yes! We got a good spot!" You beamed in delight as you placed the bags on the floor and took out the large mat. Removing your shoes, you helped Levi take out all the food and drinks that the both of you had prepared. The hanami dango looked really decent and Levi gave you a nod of approval, as though telling you it replicated those you saw in a food magazine. You took out the onigiri, bento box and sakura mochi, lining the tupperware boxes neatly in front of you.

Levi also took out a bottle of sake that he bought for the occasion, which you didn't even realise was inside the picnic basket. Taking out two teacups emblazed with sakura petals, Levi tipped some of the sake into them, offering you one.

"Wait, sake? You’re driving later, aren’t you?" Your eyes widened as you stared at Levi.

"We’ll be here for quite some time, no?" Levi took a sip of the sake, gasping with satisfaction after he felt the burn down his throat. "Don’t worry. Let’s enjoy ourselves today." Levi held up the teacup again, tipping it towards you. You gave Levi a smile and took a small sip of sake, wincing at its bitter taste and the uncomfortable burn on your throat. Sake has never been your thing. You coughed out of reflex and quickly took a piece of karaage and chewed on it.

"Gross," you made a face and took the sweets you bought from the convenience store earlier. "Thankfully I have these." Levi chuckled, taking another sip of sake. The both of you sat under the sakura tree, watching the branches gently sway with the wind.

The crowd started increasing and the bustling made everything seem livelier. Parents were seen bringing their children around and there were large groups of office workers enjoying their food and drinks as well.

"Good thing we came early." Levi commented, taking a bite of the hanami dango and smiling at you. You nodded, taking a sip of a bottle of peach-flavoured Ramune. Letting out a satisfied noise after tasting the sweet gassy drink, you turned to Levi who was watching the flowers, his ebony locks gently swaying along with the wind.

Levi had a calm and undisturbed expression as he closed his eyes, tilting his face towards the sun to feel the gentle morning rays. The corners of his lips turned up ever so slightly, and Levi propped himself up on his elbows as he basked himself under the warmth of the sun. Levi looked ethereal, as though he was a work of art. You quickly took out your camera, not wanting to miss this chance.

"What do you think you're doing, huh?" Levi spoke up after a few seconds without opening his eyes. A slight smirk appeared on his face. A-ha, I caught you, was what it simply meant. "Think I wouldn't know you were sneakily taking a photo of me?"

"W-why can't I take a photo o-of my own lover?" You stuttered, unsure of why you were even feeling nervous. How dare you expose me, was the first thing that went through your mind. Levi laughed, pushing himself upright. Staring at your face in silence, another smile made his way to his face.

"The photo will look nicer if you're inside with me."

Levi opened his arms and signalled for you to come close, pulling you next to him. You quickly held the camera up, turning it to face you two while you pressed the shutter button, capturing both your smiling faces, the sakura and plum trees looking beautiful in the background.

A gust of wind suddenly blew and just then, some flowers from the tree floated around you both, falling down gracefully. You tried to cover the food, making sure the petals don't land on them. Levi managed to catch one flower midair. Tugging some strands of your hair behind your ear, Levi gently placed the flower in your hair and gave you a smile. You looked at him bashfully.

"Do I look okay?" You refrained from moving your head too much, afraid the delicate flower would fall off from your ear.

"You always look great to me." Levi placed his arm around you and pulled you close to him again, making sure he did not accidentally crush the flower.

"Come, let's eat." Levi rubbed your arm and took one perfectly wrapped onigiri, bringing it close to your lips and urging you to take a bite. The seaweed was crispy, the rice was fragrant. The salmon mayo filling inside the rice was savoury and refreshing. You beamed in delight, picking up the tupperware with the tamagoyaki that Levi made.

The both of you spent the remainder of the day at the park, snacking on the food you both prepared, watching the traditional performances. Levi's usually pale face was tinted with a light shade of red, the effects of the sake finally showing. It was around late afternoon when you both decided to call it a day as the picnic basket was empty and your bellies were filled.

The both of you slowly packed up and arranged your clothes, the flower Levi caught still looking pretty in your hair.

"Ready to go?" Levi reached out his hand towards you, still looking a little pink in the face. Levi drank almost half of the sake bottle, and even though Levi's tolerance for alcohol was exceptionally high, you were still worried. You held Levi's hand and pulled yourself up, straightening your dress and walked alongside Levi to the car. You offered to drive back since Levi was still looking a little pink.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Levi unlocked the car and ushered you inside before putting the picnic basket in the boot. You buckled your seat belt and looked at the rearview mirror, smiling when you saw your reflection. You turned to Levi and nodded, your hand reaching to touch the flower.

"I did, Levi. I enjoyed myself. I hope you did too." You beamed when Levi gave you a soft kiss to the back of your hand before you turned on the ignition, driving off with his hand still tightly holding yours. Levi didn't say anything, yet you already knew the answer in your heart.

Hanami dango: A tri-coloured dango that is sold all year round, but exceptionally popular during hanami. The name of this dango stems from 'hanami' which means flower viewing. It is the 🍡 emoji in your phone.

Sakura mochi: A type of wagashi (Japanese confectionery) made from pink glutinous rice, red bean filling, and wrapped with a piece of pickled sakura leaf.

Ramune: Carbonated flavoured drink that's really popular in Japan.

Sake: Japanese rice wine, with alcohol content about 13-17%. Can be drunk warm or cold.

I hope you liked it!!!! Still disappointed that I didn't get to go for hanami this year *sobs* but still!! Any date with Levi anywhere is a perfect date!!!

Tagging: @levi-lover @ack3rlady @hashaneeee @roralore @imkumichan @kristinecharmm @notgoodforlife @jean-prettyboy-kirschtein @evas-leslas @sweet-assh0le @hannie2kay @ack3rlevi @levislovingwife @galactict3a @hauntedhousecat @sckerman @thesimpsstuff @ackermandick @greenfurret @jayteacups @nelapanela94 @postwarlevi @levisbrat25

Rei's Birthday Event master list | Rei's Springtime Event grand master list

Event tag list | Rei's tag list

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bmbochangetales · 3 years

Note

Hi! I would love to see what you would do for a smaller 5’3 woman like me! ☺️ I’ve always been known as cutesie, but I’ve always wanted to be a beautiful bimbo!

I am doing to do two versions for this request. One I grant your wish, and the other will be a careful what you wish for on that will be out…eventually. Also I have two other anon requests I am working on, so if they were yours just be patient a bit longer.

If this is your request and you had something different in mind, please reach out and we can talk through something more your speed.

My inbox, anon and messages are open

💖❤️💖❤️💖❤️💖❤️💖❤️💖❤️💖❤️💖❤️

Cute.

If you heard that word again you were going to scream. All your friends were called, beautiful or pretty. Sexy. Gorgeous. Like models. Everything for you was…cute.

You didn’t pick your genetics, you were just tiny. Guys were nice to you but no one chased you like they did your friends. And the ones that did, they treated you like a doll. A cute little doll. When your friends

You stirred you drink with some anger as some guys flirted with your friends. It wasn’t even like they were ignoring you, you just always got the small and cute comments. You were an adult woman for crying out loud.

“I wish people would call me sexy and not cute” the noise from the DJ was loud enough you thought no one could here. The bartender did though as he poured you another with a touch of magic powder.

“One short curvy queen! It will solve your problems ” You didn’t even fully catch them name as you began sipping.

All of a sudden,your body had a sensation like it was jelly.

5’3….5’2….5’1…..5’0 how was this solving your problem. You were even tinier now. This had to be some sick joke. But it wasn’t. Your former height was about to become your curves.

Your ass grew first. Huge. As your hips widen to support it all you could think was how sexy it would look jiggling back and forth for all the guys here. A sexy girl like you would do that.

Your demure black dress changed into something more revealing. A huge opening revealed you tits. The bounced and jiggled up almost half the alphabet. The dress showing them off barely holding in place.

Thick make up clouded your face and your lips swell up. Your lips wouldn’t ever close fully. Your brain lost all the unimportant knowledge unless it related to being a bimbo, a lot or sexy. A vapid empty look on your face.

Cute would never be the word again for a bimbo like you.

Your friends all looked more bimboish too. None quite as good as you. Your curves were the biggest by a long shot.But you definitely made the cutest pack of bimbos.

“There is my sexy shorty.” All the guys crowded around you as you strut over. All of them trying to get you a drink or get you home with them.

“Gosh I like wish I was as sexy and short as you!” Your friends moaned as they flocked to the sides of the rightful curvy short queen. The bartender may have just the drink for that.

#my writing #my story #by request #anon ask #inbox #bimboization

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tokimihyachi · 3 years

Text

Christmas Boy

Happiest Birthday to Clover Kingdom’s very own, William Vangeance! to celebrate his birthday, here’s a drawing— a rushed one, and another special one shot to commemorate such lovely day.

Pairing: William Vangeance x OC

Warnings: None.

24th December. Other than this day being Christmas, it was not much of a special date to one eccentric man in Clover Kingdom. William Vangeance, bare-faced, stood up from the silk sheets of his bed and rubbed his eyes to welcome the day before him, light from his balcony (he has one here, so shush.) casting light upon his face.

Stretching as he stood up, he neatly folded the used quilts and placed the pillows to where they were situated before he slept on them last night, before walking towards the windowsill and opening it, as a flock of various kinds of birds swarmed him like the Snow White that he is.

The sounds of the birds chirping was music to his ears, but to someone else, it was rather a nuiscance.

‘You’ve been doing that for years, William. Grow up will you?’ Patri sneered. The elf did not dislike birds, actually, he’s used to seeing and hearing them chirp every morning since before, he liked to hide in the shade of the tree where many birds live, but to be accustomed with William’s company is another thing.

‘Is that how you should greet me today, Patri?’ the boy with eyes as gold as the sun scoffed.

'I’m sorry. Happy birthday, my friend.’ Vangeance smiled at his friend’s acknowledgement. Carefully placing the newborn bird back in its nest using his World Tree Magic to extend the branched of the tree, he bids his other friends a good day before heading towards the bathroom to freshen up before breakfast.

— — — — — —

Despite reminding them countless of times, members of the Golden Dawn continued to pursue their plans to surprise their captain and greet him a happy birthday. William smiled at them as Letoile lit the birthday cake’s candles up and Alecdora took it from her hands, bringing it closer to his captain.

Hearing them sing the melodous song one chants during birthday celebrations was more than enough to the masked man as his day of birth has never been celebrated before. Considered to be a cursed child, her parents, particularly his Mother, considered December 24th as an ill-fated day he was given to them.

Unlike kids his age, he never received a cake that was decorated with sweet frosting. Never been greeted— locked even most of the time, and never had a friend who would voluntarily give him a present.

He was given a gift once by the kids he used to play with, but when he opened it, it was filled with powder that catapulted to his face.

“You should keep that powder on your face. That way it’ll hide that hideous scare of yours!”

"Why were you even born into this world, you monster!”

“He’s probably the reason why his own father died. Cursed being.”

For years those memories alone haunted him, which is why Julius and Yami had a hard time trying to find a perfect gift to him. In the end though, they treated him to dinner and sometimes agreed to do whatever activity he wanted to for the day.

Yami didn’t like his choices. They were total opposites that got along after all, but William rarely opens up much about his own self so he begrudgingly obliged, as long as there was free food at the end of the day.

‘Truly, I am blessed.’ The purple-eyed man thought as he blew the candles on his cake and the Golden Dawn clapped in cheer. Seconds later, they formed a line while bringing out their individual gifts for him. He warned them several times before that it would only be a hassle if they bought him gifts as there was still a party during the afternoon, but the stubborn girl one of them is, she pushed through with every festivity yearly.

Speaking of, where is she? William’s eyes wander the room, trying to search for the a pair of eyes redder than any rose he’s seen before, but alas he could not find her. ‘Has she, perhaps… forgotten my birthday?’ A pang of an unknown feeling went through his chest like a spear directly piercing his heart as the thought was processed by his mind.

Alecdora notices the unease of his beloved captain’s presence, so he opted to speak up, “Captain Vangeance. If I may, Lady Artemis is still sleeping…” he trailed off, failing to stitch more words together as William stood up from his chair to excuse himself, claiming that he must fetch and reprimand the sleeping woman.

The Golden Dawn shared knowing looks at one another, chuckling lightly afterwards as they were observant enough to know what was about to happen. William cautiously knocked at the door for a good couple of minutes before deciding to walk inside, scared that she might actually be in danger as he could not sense her mana at all.

“Artemis?” he called out. His voice laced in fear anxiousness more than he could ever imagine.

He expected two things or scenarios to play out when he turned the know of her door. One, she was either peacefully in deep slumber, the kind of sleep where her mana almost feels like it disappears completely or Two, she would be there on the floor, struggling for her life. But upon entering the room he stopped, seeing both of the imaginative situations he made were not in front of him.

Instead, there stood Artemis who clearly smelled like she took a bath, with both of her arms open and awaiting him to come forth as if she anticipated that he would walk through the door. The masked man gave her a confused look making the woman sigh and bring her hands down.

“What are you doing, Artemis?” William asked that further vexed the green-haired mage.

“Well,” she began, walking towards her captain slowly, giving the masked man a chance to see how alluring she looked under the touch of the sun early in the morning— her eyes burning brighter than any fire, her skin more supple and radiant than any sky, and her lips… tempting and soft, its presence even more so overwhelming than the usual.

“My gift isn’t exactly finished yet so I’m giving the next best thing.” as their eyes finally locked, Artemis’ gaze landing on his ear that were decorated in a light shade of pink making William cough to divert her attention, “And that is?” he inquired.

The woman rolls her eyes opening both of her arms again, “A hug! Now, come here you big baby!” chuckling at her little patience, probably because she waited longer than he thought, William gladly mirrors her gesture and wraps his arms around her figure.

In the darkness of his life, her cuddles feel like a little touch of heaven, warm, together, cozy. William could only wish that he could extend or perhaps stop time just so he could stay close to her longer, safe in her embrace. Artemis’ arms wrapped right around him brought a peace he’d never known before, calming of the storms in his heart.

The hug was a simple enough gesture - affection, perhaps the fragile beginnings of love. The arms that held him were soft, yet strong. The feel of her body so close to his soothed him more than he had expected. But within seconds she pulled away, his mind swam not with the heady excitement of a new relationship but with thoughts of why his heart was thumping loudly against his chest.

Her presence, more ominous than the usual. Was it because of the war nearing them? He could only guess. ‘You mean you can only deny?’ Dismissing the thoughts of his friend, Artemis took her captain’s wrist and pulled him outside her room, locking it afterwards and giving him a smile.

“There’s still a party ongoing below right? Not to mention one tonight with the captains so let’s go, Willy!” she yelled as they ran through the corridors. The masked man’s eyes dart on her hands holding his wrist and he had to bite his inner lip to prevent himself from making any noise. ‘What is it with this feeling?’

How he wanted to just grab her hand and intertwine her dainty fingers like that of a porcelain doll with his own, but he was not selfish and shamless. Artemis is a fine woman with class and exuding much elegance. She’s kind, selfless, thoughtful, exceedingly beautiful, and above all else, she’s smart. ‘and dense. Don’t forget clumsy as well.’

He could not risk such ripe and fruitful future ahead of her if he consticted her in any relationship with him other than being good friends that relied and trusted one another even if their lives depended on the situation, but he’s considered it— many times, and wondered what if he had the courage to speak his mind.

Alas he told himself not to. Both of them were healthy, given that, they still had plenty of years in front of them. So the possible lifetime they might share can wait, if it means he can treasure her longer and build up the willpower to face whatever consequence confessing might bring.

‘Wait, does this mean… I like her? Romantically?’ he shook his head. After years of denying was he about to accept and let these feelings consume him? Perhaps this was enough for now as he had other priorities to face. Yet in a few days these very thoughts would betray him, but how wrong he was to have not grabbed such golden oppurtune while it was still within his reach.

Complacency was never a good thing. And William Vangenace would soon know of this.

#black clover #william vangeance #one shot #bc #golden dawn #oc

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copias-thrall · 4 years

Text

Now What?

Our heroes thought they smoothed out the bumps to What They Were, but as it turns out, being in a relationship means *gulp* intimacy …

(Part 1; Part 2; Interlude 0)

You lean into the mirror—creating your favored doll eye—as the tinny noise of your Bitches Night Out playlist sounds from your phone. You and Mary are going out for some beers at O’Reilly’s since both of you have the night free and nothing to do the next day. Mary sits on the toilet seat going through your makeup bag. Every so often, he takes an item out, opens it, and does a smudge on the back of his hand.

You tsk at yourself when your hand wobbles and you fuck up a line. Mary looks up at you—then his eyes travel down to your derrière. You’re wearing your denim mini over thigh-length lace leggings, and it’s struggling to cover your ample ass, bent over as you are.

*public sex; dirty talk; brief homophobic language; consensual degradation; mentions of past emotional manipulation*

“Eyes up top, mister,” you say as you lick your finger to erase the wiggly bit under your eye. You already had to institute a “no-touching” rule, otherwise the two of you would never make it out of here. Mary loves the feel of you unrestricted though cotton—his band tees, hoodies, loungewear—and on any given night his roving hands are apt to start something. But you dressed up in what he calls your “fancy shit” seems to incite his lust on a very different level—so you wouldn’t put it past his roving eyes to spark something as well.

“You’re so hot when you want to be,” he says

You turn on the faucet to wet your hand, then flick it in Mary’s face. He sputters and ducks before he remembers he doesn’t care. He’s not in his stage cake, but he still wears a light dusting of white face powder and his skull accents. Instead of the blood dripping down his whole face, he has it tipping his forelock.

He grumps at you, but you just cackle. “I swear you’re half cat.”

“Whatever. Are you almost done? We’re gonna miss $5 Buds.”

“Yeah,” you say as you turn your head to-and-fro to assess the symmetry. “Just gotta put my lips on.” You hold out your hand for your makeup bag, but Mary hands you the burgundy tube.

“This one.”

“Mmm, isn’t this a little 90′s?”

His eyes sweep over you again and his hand indicates the NIN’s Downward Spiral shirt you’re wearing that you altered to tie in front.

“Aren’t you a little 90′s?”

“Point.” You take the tube and apply a dab on the center of each lip. Then you smear the color to each side with your finger. Through the mirror, your eyes linger on Mary’s plump lips filled in with a dull red instead of his usual black.

“Fuck, I’d kill for your lips.”

He mashes them together. “Is that why you’re always trying to bite them off?”

It’s true: you tend to fixate wholly on his lips sometimes when you’re making out. You give an exaggerated, dreamy sigh.

“They’re just so nice. Full, plump, well defined …”

“Weirdo.”

You shuffle over toward him and straddle his lap. Thumbing his bottom lip, you say, “I don’t usually hear you complaining.”

Mary leans back into the tank, his arms draping over it casually. “You’re breaking your own rule.”

Leaning in close you say, “I said you weren’t allowed to touch me.”

You slide a hand under his t-shirt—the skin of his torso warm and smooth—and tilt your head as if to kiss him. His eyes flutter shut, and that’s when you tilt your head back up.

“Hey, can we play?”

Mary’s eyes snap back open, and he lets out a sigh of exasperation.

“You’re a fucking tease, you know that?”

You grab his jaw.

“Can. We. Play.”

His eyes cast down.

“I don’t know, Suey. I really don’t feel like spending the whole night wondering if my dick’s gonna explode.”

You pat his cheek. “That’s ok, Mare Bear. Thank you for telling me.”

He turns to nip at your palm. “Some other night, k?”

You lean back in and actually kiss him—a short and sweet thing.

“I was thinking about something else, anyway.” You thumb his lip again. “Wanna see your lips all full and puffy. Wanna paint them with my lip gloss—have you wear it all night.”

“Is that … it?”

“Well—you can’t wipe it off, and if it gets smudged, I reapply.”

“And what do I get?” he asks as he gives a small roll of his hips. “Thought I was gonna get lucky later anyway.”

You straighten up. “What you’ll get is knowing that you’re my very good boy and that you have pleased me very much.” You smooth at a blackened eyebrow of his. “Don’t you like it when you’ve followed the rules and done a good job?”

Mary’s eyes are round and his pupils dilated. “Yeah. Yeah, ok.”

“Mmm,” you hum as you lightly sweep your hand over his stiff hair. “So good already. What a good job you’ve done keeping your hands to yourself.”

His eyes shine, and he says, “It’s easy being good for you.”

Mary and his inexplicable softness.

“Yeah, well. Let’s get that lipstick on you.”

After gently wiping off his matte with a square of toilet paper, you rummage through your makeup bag for the ridiculous gloss you got as a sample with the purchase of something or other. It’s wet and shiny with a glittery sheen to it—and some kind of chemical that supposedly plumps your lips. The first and only time you’d worn it, your friend told you that it made your mouth look like a wet vagina. It makes Mary’s lips look like a delicacy you want to consume as an entrée at a ridiculously expensive French restaurant. With a white wine pairing or some shit.

He rubs them together experimentally. “Sticky.”

“Yeah, it’s not the kiss-proof kind, so don’t wipe at it.”

You admire you work for another beat, then have an idea.

“Wait—hold on …”

You reach for your phone, then start poking through the apps. He’s assessing his lips in one of your small compacts when you finally have your camera app ready.

“Uh …” he says.

“You have your porn, I have mine.”

“Whatever. I’m pretty sure my cum lips look better.”

You don’t really notice anyone on the street that looks twice at Mary—but then again, he’s in full demonsona, and most passersby try not to look directly at him. (Apparently he gets fewer freakouts when you’re on his arm, but that’s just because they don’t know I’m the one keeping you in line, Suey.)

It’s embarrassing the amount of ownership you feel over Mary when the two of you go anywhere—like he’s a feather in your cap and not your autonomous boyfriend. But there’s just something about having this dramatic boy—in his makeup and leather jacket—on your arm and deferring to you that makes you feel powerful. It doesn’t help that he enjoys playing the part of your attack dog, happy to wait patiently until you tap him in—but a lurking, menacing presence all the same.

Of course, O’Reilly’s is really Mary’s bar—a place he and his bandmates have been frequenting for years (even if it’s a place you’ve been known to hit up on a bar crawl or for late-night eats)—so the staff and regulars obviously don’t buy the dark & mysterious routine from a dude who once sang “Paradise City” shitfaced while trying to Coyote Ugly on the bar. It doesn’t stop them from acting like you have some sort of … control over him—which, ok: you do—now that’s it clear you’re pretty solidly in the picture.

The barstaurant is what Mary calls a “Pop” dive bar. It’s dim enough and cheap enough to attract the college kids and the punks, but it’s clean and serves decent food all night so that the yuppies flock there too. The regulars don’t think too much of the dynamic (and Mary’s known to get into drinking games with the finance guys), but that doesn’t mean there aren’t … clashes. The bouncers visibly eye roll with their entire bodies whenever they see Mary in line.

“Goore. It amazes me you haven’t been banned yet,” says ‘Bruiser’ (what Mary affectionately calls him—his real name is Rodney or something) as he haphazardly marks at X on the back of Mary’s hand.

“I’m pretty sure that’s because my friends and I single handedly keep this place afloat when there’s not a game.”

When you thrust out your hand, Bruiser hums at you, like you’re guilty by association (not that he’s wrong), and swipes at your hand too.

“You should be keeping him in line.”

You give him a wolfish smile. “Where’s the fun in that for me?”

Bruiser rubs his eyes.

“Just … try to stay out of trouble?”

Mary slings his arm heavily across your shoulders as you enter the bar, set upon his own claim. It’s not so much about keeping guys from approaching you (“I mean, they can try. It funny watching you turn them down.”) than it is a warning that anyone who starts shit with you will finish it with him (“Or maybe I just want to show off the pretty piece on my arm—ow, fuck”).

As the two of you make your way to the bar, a few people call out, and Mary tilts his head at them. “Thursday is the new Friday” is apparently in full swing here. It’s crowded enough that you two have to squeeze into an opening at the bar, but not so much that you can’t carve out a space for yourselves.

You order the two of you a round of shots and a lite beer as a chaser. Mary knocks the whiskey back like it’s sugar water while you push through the burn. You immediately take a swig of the beer; some of it dribbles down your chin, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand. Mary tracks your movement.

“Oh—you want some?” you say licking your lips.

“Yeah.”

You crook your finger at him, and he leans down.

“Open.”

His glossy lips part, eyes fixed on yours. You bring up the beer bottle and carefully tip it into his mouth. He closes his lips around the mouth of it as you pour, but easily lets go when you incrementally pull it away. Some of the gloss comes away with it, so you tell Mary to hold up. You dig into your bra to produce the tube of gloss, then reapply to his lips.

“Disgusting,” comes a voice that startles the both of you out of your bubble. You turn to see a neckbeard in a hoodie scowling at the two of you. “You really going to let your bitch put that shit on you?”

Mary’s face darkens, and he straightens to much taller than his height.

“The fuck you just say?”

Mary lets a lot go—he’s a skinny goth boy who wears horrorface—but he hates it when men talk shit to you. Things that don’t even penetrate you seem to make his blood boil (“How can you not know this is just a thing?” “I did, I just … didn’t know how often it was a thing.”).

“You really gonna let some bitch dress you like a faggot?”

Mary tenses at the same time as you spit, “I’m sorry about your small penis.”

Neckbeard sputters at you, and Mary steps in front of you.

“Call my girl a bitch again and I’ll tear the veins out of your neck.”

“Fucking snowflake faggot, like you could.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

“You’re ok with looking like a fairy?”

“The fae are fearsome creatures, so yeah.”

“Don’t be a fucking smartass, freak. You know what I meant”

“If you mean the colloquial meaning of ‘gay man’, then yeah—I am.”

“That’s fucking disgusting.”

“I’ve found sex with men quite pleasant.”

“What the fuck, dude,” says Neckbeard, recoiling.

Out of nowhere, Bruiser materializes.

“Problem?”

At the same time as Neckbeard says Not at all, Mary is gearing up.

“Yeah. He’s harassing Suey and spouting homophobic language.”

Bruiser is—as it happens—a gay man, and his face darkens.

“I’m sorry, sir. We don’t tolerate that kind of hate speech here.”

“Don’t tell me they got you toeing the party line?”

“Management reserves the right to remove any patrons they feel contribute to an unsafe environment.”

Neckbeard sputters. “Y-you will let this, this freak stay here, and kick out a red-blooded man?”

“He’s a pain in the ass, but hardly a public menace.”

“I’m touched, Bruiser.”

“Shut the fuck up, Mary.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’d like to speak to the manager. I want him to know what kind of Yelp review I’m going to leave.”

“Of course, sir. This way …”

Bruiser leads Neckbeard away. Mary gives him a thumbs up, but Bruiser just glowers at him.

You consider Mary.

“You like to fuck men?”

Mary looks at you, brows furrowed. “Well, yeah. I’m in a punk band.”

You squint at him. “What does that have to do …”

His features school. “You … you do know that we’ve all fucked each other?”

Oh.

You didn’t.

“That—that makes a lot more sense.”

No wonder his bandmates resent you. You took Mary from them.

“Is … that a problem?” says Mary, his face impassive.

“No,” you say quickly. “I just—didn’t know. I’ve never seen you make googly eyes at a dude.”

He crowds into your space, placing his hands on your waist.

“I don’t make eyes at anyone’s who’s not you.”

You burst out into laughing that turns into stifled giggles.

Mary scowls at you. “Don’t be a bitch. I’m being sincere.”

“No, it’s just … Mare—you’re the biggest flirt whoever made his family ridiculous. No, don’t shake your head at me—you are. I’m not the jealous type, but that doesn’t mean I don’t watch you play up your Evil Lothario persona when it suits you.”

He grumbles non-verbally at you, then deflects.

“Don’t you fuck women?”

“Oh,” you say, surprised. “Um. No? Not really.”

He tilts his head at you. “Not really?”

You shrug. “I mean, college … but no. I’m not sexually attracted to women.”

“Well, damn,” he says as he runs his hand through your hair. “I guess there goes all my hopes of a threesome.”

You smirk at him. “Does it?”

He stills when he gets your meaning.

“What?” you ask.

“I … I can’t tell if I hate that idea or not.”

“A devil’s threesome?”

Mary shudders. “I’m equal parts repulsed and turned on by that.”

You lean away from him. “Ok, wait. You have orgies with your band, but you’re stymied by a threesome with another dude?”

“I’m gonna sound like an asshole, but it’s different with a random groupie.”

“How so?”

His eyebrows twist.

“That was just fun. I never cared for them. Not like …”

He runs a finger lightly down your face, and you shy away from it.

“Gross.”

Mary narrows his eyes at you, then grabs you by the hips to pull you into him.

“But: I’ll admit that the idea of watching some dick that’s not mine fuck you is … appealing.”

You feel the growing bulge in his jeans. He leans down to murmur into your ear.

“Fucking into your pussy, like he has the right.”

He hikes your one leg over his hip and presses his erection into your crotch. You make a pleased noise.

“Watching your face contort with the pleasure he gives you. Watching you moan as he makes you cum.”

He ruts into you, and you wonder if he can feel your growing wetness. He presses his nose into your neck.

“Fuck. That makes you hot, too. I can smell you.”

“Fuck, Mary.”

“God, what a little cock slut you’d be. Could I punish you after?”

You’re throbbing now between your legs, and you let out a soft moan.

“Yeah, you’d like that. Being punished for fucking a cock that wasn’t mine.”

You grind into him, and he slips a thigh further in between your legs, resting his foot on the rail under the bar. Immediately you grasp at him as you rock yourself back and forth on his thigh in little movements.

“How would you like to be punished? Should I take you over my knee?”

A thrill runs through you, and your back arches as you let out an Uhhn.

“Yeah,” Mary rumbles. “Take you over my knee and make sure to cherry that ass of yours.”

He reaches his hand around to press at you from behind, and the feeling goes straight to your clit. Your head lolls as your eye roll back. You’re sure some of the people in the crowd must be aware of what’s happening, but right now all thought is between your legs.

They’re welcome.

“Would you fuck me?” you breathe.

Mary growls. “Of course I’d fuck you. Gotta make you remember why you like my cock best. But only after I spanked you red. I’d want you to feel the sting every time I fucked into you.”

You rock hard into Mary’s thigh, and he pulsates the fingers pressing into you, ratcheting up your arousal.

“Oh god, Mary.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Cry out my name. You know who owns your pleasure.”

You’re riding his thigh hard, your movements no longer discreet. You know Mary’s hard, but he’s just looking down at you with hooded, intense eyes as his clever fingers manipulate you. You rub your clit forward into his thigh, then rock back onto his fingers—your hips circling sinuously. You’re terribly close to climaxing if you could just …. You grip hard at his arms as you speed up.

“Fuck, I want it. I want to cum.”

Mary’s other hand grips you harder, and he leans in so close you can feel his lips on the shell of your ear.

“I’d fuck your cunt hard to wipe away the feel of that other dick. Fill you up with my cum so you’d smell like me. I’d hold you down so I could cum into you again and again. Make you my cum dumpster. Would you like that? To have my jizz dripping down your thighs? So that everyone knew who you belonged to.”

“I’m such a slut! I don’t deserve it!” you gasp, your movements now jerky as you chase your orgasm.

“No you don’t,” he growls. “You’re so lucky to have my dick in you. If I could, I‘d always have you on my dick. That’s all you’re good for. Milking my cock. A fucking warm body. And you can’t even do that right. I should let that other dick have you, you worthless—”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cry out as the throb between your thighs crests, hovers, then pulsates through your cunt from front to back. You press down hard into Mary’s leg as your pussy spasms, mouth open and drooling.

“Yeah, that’s it. There you go. Ride it out.” He pets at your hair.

Once you’re done, you slump forward into his shoulder, panting, and Mary wraps an arm around your waist. He extracts his hand from under you and brings it to his face. He closes his eyes as he brings his fingers to his nose and inhales. Then he slides them down over his lips and tongue.

A throat clears.

Mary jerks around as you sluggishly raise your head. Bruiser is standing behind you two, eyebrows raised.

“You two are fucking nasty, you know that?

You just press further into Mary—mashing your face into his chest—not up to confrontation so soon after your orgasm.

“You think this is Amsterdam or some shit? Uh-huh. You need to get your asses out of here.”

You feel Mary shrug at him.

“What’s a guy to do when his girl’s this hot?”

“All right, love birds. C’mon.”

Mary grumpily readjusts himself as you ooze down to gather your things. Bruiser escorts you both out the back door and shakes his head, laughing, as he closes the door in your faces.

You press Mary into the alley wall and rub your tits on him.

“I thank you for the use of your shapely thigh, good sir,” you all but slur as you look up at him with a happy smile.

He licks his lips. “I can think of a better way to thank me.” He grabs your hand and guides it to the bulge in his jeans. You give it a squeeze and Mary growls in response.

“I swear to god if you’re going to tease me—”

“I’m not,” you say as you pet his dick, “but not right here. C’mere …”

You grab his hand, yanking him as he stumbles behind you. You lead him down another side alley and into an overflow backlot. A quick assessment has you saying Over there as you lead him to a walled corner with an SUV parked adjacently. He lets you maneuver him in between the car and the brick wall, his eyes predatory. You push him up against the wall with both hands, and he bounces a little; you press the line of your body into him and let your hands wander slowly down the plane of his torso.

You’re looking up at him, gaze full of intent, as your fingertips slip under the waistband of his jeans. His stomach contract as he inhales sharply. You’re just grazing the tip of his cock when Mary’s hand shoots up to your head.

“I want your mouth,” he rumbles as he applies a gentle pressure to your crown

You grin up at him as you sink down to a squat. “You have been a good boy.”

He lets out a Fuck and tips his head back into the wall. You reach up for his belt, but his fingers reach it first. “Put the lip gloss on, I want to see how it looks stretched around my cock.”

Mary fumbles with getting out his cock as you dig the gloss out of your bra. You hastily swipe the wand across your lips before shoving it back into your cleavage. Mary’s holding his dick at the base—it’s flushed and the tip is shiny with precum—but with his other hand he chucks you under the chin.

“You’re beautiful you know that.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re only saying that because I’m about to suck your cock.”

His grip tightens on your chin.

“And I’m going to ruin that pretty little face of yours.”

Then he pushes his dick into your mouth whether you’re ready or not—his hand slipping to the back of your head to keep you in place. Your own hand reaches out to steady yourself on his leg as he holds you like that. He lets out a sigh of relief, then his hand is gone.

“I want to watch you,” he says.

So you bob forward down the length of his shaft, then back up, trying to get him as wet as possible with your spit. You curl your free hand around the base to use in tandem with your mouth. When you reach his cockhead, you close your eyes as you suckle at it, twisting your lips around it as you tongue at his sweet spot.

“Yeah. Yeah, just like that. Fuck.”

You remove it from your mouth so you can tap the tip on your tongue. Mary lets out a breathy grunt, and you run your tongue around the ridge before lapping around his cockhead a few times.

“Uhn, yeah.”

You suck it down to the hilt in one swallow, and Mary gasps, his hand slamming into the wall. You deep throat him for a bob or two, then pull off with a sucking sound so you can take a breath, making sure to keep jacking him with your hand.

Mary lets out a half whine.

After repeating that combo a few times, you settle in to work at sucking him off for really reals. It’s a good thing it’s a tight fight in the corner, since you’re able to use the car to help redistribute your weight—you probably can’t squat for long.

Mary’s earlier guttural noises have turned into something high and breathy. If you could spare a hand, you could probably cum again just from the noises he’s making.

There’s a tense moment when you hear footsteps in the gravel and you freeze, Mary letting out a soft moan of frustration and his cock throbbing against your tongue. But then the steps get closer, and you feel him tense. He puts a hand on the side of your head—whether to shield you from view or keep you from popping off, who’s to say?

The sound finally does round the corner of the car, and your hand tightens on Mary’s thigh. He feels like a coiled spring. There's a clink of a belt that cuts off suddenly.

“Whoops … sorry,” slurs a male voice.

Then a pause.

“Girl, you ok?”

Mouth still full of Mary’s dick, you give a thumb’s up in the voice’s direction with the hand not occupied.

“Ah. Have fun.”

Then the footsteps stumble and recede, and you do pull off his dick. Mary spits out a Fuck and slams a fist into the wall.

“Stupid fucking drunk. I was enjoying that,” he says looking down at you.

You’re feeling the burn in your leg muscles, which are starting to tremble.

“Wait—just let me …” you say as you try to shift around to a better position. You’re about to fold your knees under you when Mary says, “Wait. The gravel.”

He shrugs out of his leather jacket and hands it down to you. You lay it down in front of you before kneeling on it.

“Why, Goore—you’re such a gentleman.”

His hand is behind your head again, tangling into your hair. “Shut up and suck my cock.”

You acquiesce, sinking back down and getting right to it. He’s by no means soft, but he’s not as hard as he was before the unfortunate interlude, so you deep throat him a couple times to coax the blood back in.

“Hhhghh, how are you so good at that.”

You hollow your cheeks for a long suck.

“Fuck.”

You start bobbing on him again when he says, “Look up at me.” You flick your eyes to him. “Yeah, just like that. Keep your eyes on me.” His own eyes are glazed and his mouth is parted. “Yeah, keep going. Faster.”

Speeding up, you try to keep the hand at his base in time with your mouth.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

You bob faster on his cock, and you see Mary’s body tense, then release.

Tense.

Release.

He swallows audibly, the telltale stiffening obvious against your tongue, then he breathes out: “Keepyouhandgoing.” The grip in your hair tightens, and then he yanks you off his dick.

Your pace slightly stutters, but then you start jacking him as fast as you can as you squeeze your eyes shut. Almost immediately you’re hit in the face with the splash of his cum, and Mary makes this soft-moan thing in the back of his throat. He must really have been worked up, because he splatters across your face again and again. And again.

You ease up with your hand only when you hear him whine, but he just pushes your head forward as he presses back into your mouth, making a pleased rumble as he rubs against your tongue. He rocks into your mouth a little bit, and then the hold in your hair disappears and he withdrawals from your mouth. You feel him lean away from you and into the wall.

“Oh wow. Fuck,” he says laughing, then lets out a pleased hum.

You’re still kneeling on the ground, eyes closed and arms out for balance.

“Mare?”

“What? Oh—yeah, fuck. Hold on.”

There’s a rustling of clothes and a zipper, and then you sense him getting on his knees in front of you. He chuckles.

“Wow—I really got you everywhere.”

“Mary.”

“All right, all right,” he says still chuckling. “Um … ok.”

You feel what can only be his t-shirt wiping at your face. And your ear. And under your chin. And at your hair.

“Just a few more …” he says as you feel him wipe at your eyes with his thumb. “Ok … you’re a little smudgy, but—ok.”

When you open your eyes, he’s right in your face.

“You’re right—that lipstick is amazing,” he says, and then he kisses you hard and rough with an open mouth, his tongue going straight for your tonsils.

Despite being crunched between a car and a brick wall with the sharp gravel digging into your legs, you and Mary makeout sloppily with too much tongue and a lot of spit. His hands have found your face again and yours are braced on his chest.

The sudden noise of a car starting up and echoing off the wall has you both breaking apart.

“We should go,” you say.

“You think.”

It’s a little awkward to navigate in the cramped space, but you help each other up, your legs wobbling a bit. You hand Mary back his jacket, and he brushes off the detritus before donning it again. You notice that he keeps pulling the bottom of his shirt away from his stomach, and you laugh.

“Oh no! That can’t be comfortable.”

“It’s fine. It’s only cold and wet. And sticky.”

You hold out your arms to him, and he perks up. When he’s in your arms, you make sure to rub and smush his shirt into his stomach.

“Oh my god you’re such a bitch.”

“I’m helping!”

“How is that helping?”

“It’s just like acclimating to the ocean—you just got to dunk under in one go,” you chirp at him.

“Next time I’m just gonna leave you looking like a bad bukkake.”

At some point Mary started rocking the two of you, and you squirm until he finally lets go. He sighs.

“All right. Let’s get you home.”

He puts his hands in his pockets and starts striding out of the parking lot. You skip after him and thread your arm through his.

“Really? The night’s still young!”

He gives you an incredulous look.

“Suey, you look like you just got face fucked in a parking lot.” He gives you an appraising look. “Actually, that’s kinda hot. On second thought, let’s go to Sixes & Sevens—”

“Where?”

“Mickey’s place. I have no problem with everyone knowing whose dick you just sucked. I’ll make them smell my fingers too.”

“Pig.”

“Hmm, maybe I should reup.”

He pushes you against a wall and puts his hand between your legs. His face contorts into a look of surprise.

“Fuck, you’re wet. Like … really wet.”

“Well, what did you think—”

“Fuck, are you still …”

Suddenly he’s pushing up your skirt and diving his hand into your panties. You gasp Oh my god when his finger slip-slides over your clit.

“How are you still so wet?”

You give him a sultry look.

“You know sucking your cock does it for me.”

He’s still fingering you, leaning into your space, when he says, “Maybe we should get a cab. I could be fucking you in 10 minutes. No drunks looking for a place to piss.”

With his clever fingers manipulating you, you have to admit the prospect is appealing. But …

“No,” you purr at him. “You’re going to get me off right now because it pleases me. Then we’re going to go get a little sloppy, and if you can keep your hands to yourself, you can fuck me that way you like when we get back to my place.”

Mary presses into you like it’s a reflex.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Then it’s you and your hand, mister.”

His fingers go to work at you. They’re sloppy, artless—unlike his usual careful manipulation—but you’re already halfway there from the blow job and that, combined with him sucking bruises into your neck, has you mewling and pushing at him in no time. The pad of a finger suddenly presses hard onto your clit, and you make a wounded noise. It doesn’t leave, and you feel the direct pressure keenly. You start twitching and letting out small noises.

“Oh oh oh … Mary—oh god … Mary …”

He turns his head to kiss at the hinge of his jaw, but his finger just. Stays.

The pressure is all at once Way to Much and Not Enough, and you’re thrashing you head back and forth.

“Mary, Mary, Mary, Mary …”

You’re asking for mercy, but he’s granting you no clemency.

It’s a slow build to your orgasm, but you feel every second of it intensely. Your head tips back, and your nails scrabble at the wall as you moan Oh oh oh oh in time to the pulsating of your clit. You’re making these embarrassing high-pitched wounded noises as the throb between your legs worsens.

When you finally cum, it’s almost painful, and you grapple at Mary’s arms, sinking your nails into him. Your screams bounce off the walls around the two of you, and Mary covers your mouth with his to muffle you. You’re dimly aware that you just squirted everywhere, soaking your leggings, the fluid dripping down your legs.

You jerk when Mary runs a gentle circle around your over sensitive nub, and he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you into him.

“I made a mess,” you say as Mary withdraws his hand. You meant for it to be funny, but once it comes out, it sounds small and your voice wavers.

Mary wipes his hand off on his jeans and brings his other arm around you.

“I guess we’re matched now—both covered in sex juice.”

The wetness on your legs is beginning to cool, and the droplets are beginning to settle into your socks. Suddenly the thought of going anywhere else other than home is unappealing. Cleaning some semen off your face in a bar bathroom is much different than dealing with soaked bottoms all night. You push away from him.

“You did that on purpose!” you say as you tug on your damp leggings.

“I—what?”

“If you really didn’t want to go back out, you just could have said!”

Mary’s looking at you helplessly.

“You asked me to get you off …”

“I can’t go anywhere like this, Mary!”

He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Are you really fucking mad at me because I made you cum too hard?”

“You knew what would happen!”

“Jesus fucking christ. There’s never any winning with you sometimes.”

You turn and start walking away.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“Yeah? You gonna walk the whole way?”

“Yep.” Maybe taking off your leggings will help. Except then your ass will be hanging out.

“Suey … that’s an hour’s walk. Let’s get a cab, ok?”

You spin on your heel.

“I’m all wet, Mary! I can’t sit in a cab. I’m disgusting.”

You turn back around and continue walking. After a bit, Mary catches up with you.

“Let’s get a cab, you can sit on my jacket.”

You look at him. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Well I’m … it’s …” you sputter.

“It was really hot. Fuck, I think I almost came in my pants.”

“But—”

“So I literally don’t give a fuck if you sit on my jacket.”

You don’t say anything, but you don’t fight him either.

“Look, we’ll get a cab; you can change; and we can go to the bar down the street from you. Ok?”

You stop and look at him.

“Ok.”

He looks at you, then rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

“You’re a fucking pain in my ass, you know that?” He bundles you into an embrace. “I don’t know why I keep you around.”

You let him enfold you in his arms, but don’t hug him back.

“Probably the blow jobs,” you say into his chest.

He cradles the back of your head and you feel him smell your hair.

“Definitely one of the top 3 reasons.”

The two of you get a cab and—true to his word—Mary lays out his leather jacket for you to sit on. When you get back to your apartment, you make a beeline for your shower. You strip down to everything but your panties and leggings—those you’ll shower in.

The shower is amazing, and you relish in washing the night off your body. When you’re done, you hang the wet garments over the shower rod and wrap yourself in your robe.

You find Mary conked out on top of your covers in just his boxer briefs. One of his hands is on his chest and the other is sprawled across your bed; his mouth is open and there’s a little drool in one of the corners. You climb onto the bed and lie on top of him

“Huh, wha?” says Mary as he startles awake.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

A hand rests on your back.

“Wasn’t sleeping.”

“Mmhm.”

“Just resting my eyes.”

“Mmm.”

He rubs your back a little before saying, “Should we get moving?”

“Can we just stay like this?”

A pause.

“Sure.”

You lay like that for awhile, feeling Mary’s chest rise and fall under you.

“M’sorry,” you mumble.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry I was such a bitch.”

“Yeah. I didn’t like that.”

You consider for a moment before saying, “My parents used to pull that shit on me.”

He breathes in. He breathes out.

“Which?”

“They’d—they’d give me permission to do something or whatever, and then they’d manipulate it so they got what they wanted anyway. Um, like one time I wanted to go to this concert? And they said I could if xyz, you know? I got the ticket and everything. All my friends were going. We had all these plans. And then like. The night before, my parents held up my English class roster. I had this paper due the next week and they asked me to show them my research notes. Obviously I didn’t have any research notes because I’d planned to spend that Sunday at the library. So they revoked their permission. Said I promised this concert wouldn’t interfere with my schoolwork, and obviously I hadn’t kept that promise. All my friends went to the concert that Friday and my parents drove me to the library. Said it was a lesson in responsibility.

“That’s just the one that really made me realize how fucked up they were. I know it sounds stupid—boo-hoo I missed a concert, but it's really the thousand little paper cuts like that. It’s about how stressful it was never knowing what I was actually allowed to do, and what was fake. Having to always go the extra mile and second guess myself. To do everything right and get tripped up on a technicality.

“One time I saved up to buy this dress to one of the proms I’d been asked to? And they knew that. They praised me for being fiscally responsible. I kept my grades up. I stayed on top of all my assignments and made sure all my chores were done. They helped me with a deposit to the group limo. And then a week before—you know, I didn’t even remember what bullshit reason they found. But they found something. And it’s like they knew I was going to go anyway, so they returned my dress and drove us out to grandma’s for the weekend.

“It kinda beat me into submission, you know? I just. Stopped doing things. Like, what was the point, right? The dance? The new movie? Game night? They always found a reason. And my friends? Just stopped inviting me out to things. They said my parents would just find a reason to block me anyway and that they were tired of working around it.

“So, I dunno. Tonight? It felt a little like that. Like you’d wanted to call it a night, and when I didn’t want to, you found a way to get what you wanted while pretending to give me what I wanted.”

Mary lightly scratches down your back through your robe.

“That sounds really fucked up.”

“Yeah.”

“Are they …?”

“They disowned me.”

Mary lifts his head.

“What? Why?”

“I—not tonight, ok?”

“K.”

The two of you lay like that, unspeaking, for a while. After a while you become aware of Mary’s hardness under you.

“Did you want to fuck?”

His hand stills.

“What?”

You squirm a little.

“I can feel you.”

“Suey. You’re laying on top of me. What did you expect? But no: I don’t want to fuck.”

“Are you sure?”

“This is kind of nice, actually. As it is.”

“Gross, but ok.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Whatever.”

Mary maneuvers his head until his mouth meets yours. He starts with your lips, then moves onto slipping you some tongue. You meet his kiss, gently tangling your tongue with his. He runs his hand through your hair, then rolls you onto your sides. His thigh slips between yours, but he doesn’t grind against you or anything. Still—his dick hasn’t seemed to get the memo. You slip your hand down to cup him, but May flinches and catches up your hand.

“Hey. I said it’s fine.”

“But you’re—”

“I said, no.”

You bury your head in his neck.

“Ok. But … do you really not want to, or is it something else?”

“Why do you think I’m some sexbot?

You bring your face to Mary’s and squish his between your hands.

“I don’t think that, Mary. It just seemed like—I dunno—you were falling on your sword or something.”

“Fuck, Suey. I don’t expect you to understand. You always seem ready to go. Like we could be having the worst fight, but if I took my dick out, you’d still drop to your knees and suck it.”

You flush at being read.

“But I don’t—I know my dick thinks it’s gonna get lucky because you’re so close, but I’m just not in the mood. If you want an orgasm, I’m happy to give you one—I’m always happy to make you cum—but I’d rather not myself, ok?”

You kiss his nose. “Ok, Mare Bear. But if you change your mind …”

“Noted.”

The two of you make out lazily. Mary’s hands slip into your robe and roam all over your body—a light caress here and a grabby handful there—but you keep yours at his face and in his hair. Soon, he has his face in your neck and his one hand is kneading at your breasts. Because he’s pressed close to you, you can feel the throb of his cock. His finger sweeps over a hardened nipple, and you moan at the sensation. Mary ruts into you, then whines.

You pet his head. “It’s ok, Mare. You can fuck me.”

“But I don’t want to want to fuck you. I should be fucking able to just lie here with you without fucking wanting it.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Ok, but if I want it and you want it …?”

He tilts his head back. “Christ, you’re frustrating. Look—you were kinda right earlier. You wanted to go out, and instead it became all about where we could fuck. Is that all? Are we just strung together by times we’ve fucked and times we could be fucking?”

You consider his words.

“I don’t have many relationships, Mary. They kind of seem like a waste of time? And if I get horny, there’s always a bar full of guys to fuck. But, I dunno. You’re different. You don’t want things from me. I feel like I can just … exist with you.”

“I want a lot of things from you.”

You huff.

“You don’t want idealized things from me. I don’t know where you’ve gotten this idea that the only thing we’ve got in common is our genitals.”

“Don’t say genitals.”

“Our nethers.” Mary groans. “But I feel like in a pie chart of my life, there’s a big slice devoted to Mary Rants. About capitalism, about the patriarchy, about gender construct, about slow walkers—”

“Who are these people who have nowhere to go?!”

“—and another devoted to the plotline of the WWE wrestlers.”

“I won’t apologize for that. It’s dramatic as fuck AND there’s head bashing. Everyone who disses it is missing out on some serious soapy shit.”

“Such on brand Mary.”

He grumbles.

“Fine, ok. But—you’re like this vault, and I only have a lock pick.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah.” He presses an index finger to your forehead. “I know there’s gold in there. But I can’t get at it.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m ruminating,” you say.

“You and your 10¢ words.”

“I won’t apologize for my vocabulary.”

Mary pecks your lips. “Wasn’t asking you to.”

You sigh and snuggle—yes, ok snuggle—into him.

“I guess I take too much pride in being independent. And, I mean … I think we work because we’re both independent people looking for—I dunno—a partner to come home to, not someone who follows you around. But—I’ll try, Mary. To, I dunno—hand the gold bars out through a slot or whatever … it’s your stupid metaphor.”

“It’s a start.”

You blow a raspberry at him, and he retaliates by gently biting your tongue. When you squeal in consternation, he just sucks it into his mouth. You try to push away from him, but he just rolls on top of you and begins to blow raspberries into your neck

“How do you like it?” Thhpbt “How do you like it now?” Thhpbt “You think that shit is funny?” Thhpbt

You’re laughing and trying to push him off you, but he has you thoroughly pinned.

“Wait—no! Stop!” you beg in between giggles.

He buries his face between your tits and gives you the biggest one yet.

“I will fucking murder your face, Mary Goore!”

He looks up at you, eyes glinting boyishly. “You’d have to get free first.”

You start kicking with your legs, and he tries to keep you pinned—but you bring your knee up, and he flinches away preemptively.

“Don’t play dirty!” he exclaims as you take your advantage to roll back on top of him.

You lick his face and try not to cringe from the awful taste of the makeup on it. Mary makes a disgusted noise.

“Did you mean murder my face like a kitten? Seriously, fucking stop.”

Still ignoring the bitter taste of his makeup, you continue to lap at him. He grabs you by the hair and drags your mouth down to his. Him sucking your tongue into his mouth (“Ugh, is that what I taste like?!”) is initially a matter of defense, but it soon turns into a heated kiss. Mary’s gripping your hair and pressing up into you as his tongue pilfers your mouth. He wrenches your head back so he can kiss down your neck.

“What about now?” you gasp. “Can I take your cock now?”

“Ugh,” he huffs into your neck. “I hate it when you win.”

He rolls the two of you back onto your sides, and his hand travels down to your cunt. You’re by no means soaking, but the play fighting and subsequent kissing have made you wet enough. Mary thinks so too, and—after some fumbling with his underwear and your robe—his cock finds your hole and pushes in. He makes a sound of relief, as you gasp, and begins to slowly thrust in and out of you.

The position is a little awkward, even with your leg hoisted over him, and you say, “I can turn around if …?”

But he just draws you closer. “No, this is fine.”

His thrusts are slow and steady, him slowing you down every time you try to pick up the pace.

You whine. “Mare—”

“Shh—it can be good like this.”

He finds your mouth again, his one hand tangled in your hair and the other gripping your ass. You let him slowly fuck into you, your hand snaking down to play with your clit. It takes longer than when the two of you pound frenetically at each other, but soon enough Mary is stuttering and trembling with the need to cum.

“Are you close?” he mouths at you. “I want to cum with you.”

You squirm. “Mary …”

“Please …”

You suck his tongue into your mouth and start tapping quicker on your clit. You dredge up your favorite x-rated fantasy. All you need is …

“Faster—oh please, Mary …” you plead, breaking away from his mouth.

He presses you into him harder as he begins to thrust faster. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you will your orgasm to happen.

“Suey—this pace … I can’t …” whines Mary. He slows down a little, pumping into you with longer, deeper thrusts. You press into your clit, hard, and clench around him, loving the feeling of being filled, of having something pressing back against you.

“Oh my god,” hisses Mary, and then he slams suddenly into you. “Ughn,” he grunts out as he empties into you.

It’s actually enough to push you over, and your eyes roll back as you start to pulsate and spasm with the waves of your orgasm.

“Ah ah ah ah,” you punch out.

And then the two of you are clenching and grinding and grabbing at each other, mouths meeting and then smearing across faces and necks.

When it’s over, your leg is draped and hanging over his hip, his face is mashed into your shoulder, and your arms are wrapped around his head. You are both panting, hearts rabbiting.

“Fuck,” says Mary into your shoulder.

“Double fuck,” you say, and Mary huffs out a laugh. He raises his head to capture your mouth in a lazy kiss.

You’re both sticky with sweat, and it’s a messy business separating. Mary reaches out to you, but you’re already bouncing off the bed.

“No, why?” he whines as he makes grabby hands at you, but you’re already shrugging your robe back on.

“Do we have to go through this every time? I’m going to pee—I’ll be right back.”

You’re on the toilet when Mary wanders in—nude and soft cock bouncing.

“Mary,” you squeal as you cover yourself with your hands.

He squints at you. “What?”

“WHAT IF I WAS TAKING A SHIT?!”

“Are you taking a shit?”

“No, but—”

He turns the sink faucet on. “Then what’s the issue?”

“Fuck, leave some mystery!”

He grabs his Mary-designated washcloth and looks over at you as he runs it under the water.

“I don’t really want ‘the mystery’. I want the real thing.”

Mary begins to wipe in between his legs, and you turn your head away with a disgruntled noise.

“I don’t get what the big fucking deal is. I probably know what your, uh, vagina—”

“You can just say ‘cunt’, jesus christ, this isn’t health class.”

“—your cunt looks like better than you do. I’m up there enough. And earlier tonight you were covered in my jizz.”

“It’s-it’s—I don’t know! Kind of gross?”

“You peeing is grosser than semen?”

You press the palms of your hands into your eyes.

“Yes?”

The faucet shuts off. “Fine. I'll tell you what. You promised to be more open. So you can either finish peeing—don’t deny it I know I interrupted you midstream—

“Christ, Mary—”

“—or you can tell me one personal, intimate thing, and I’ll leave.”

You turn to glare at him. He’s standing with arms akimbo, modesty be damned. You keep his gaze as you unclench and finish peeing. He grins at you—a wide, fearsome thing.

“Ok, ok—get out. That’s all you get tonight, drive through.”

He leans over to kiss your head, and you make a mean lemon face at him.

When you get back into your room, Mary is in a fresh—well different—pair of boxer briefs and is straightening out your sheets. You hang up your robe and shimmy into the old tee of his that you’ve claimed as yours. When he turns and sees you, his eyes linger, but he doesn’t say anything.

You both climb into bed, and you allow him to big spoon you—with the understanding that the second he falls asleep you retain the right to extract yourself from him. He snuffles into your neck and sighs.

After awhile you say, “Sorry that that’s not the way I promised to let you fuck me.”

He huffs into you. “How do you know how I wanted to fuck you?”

"It was implied.”

“You said ‘that way I like’. I like the way we fucked just fine.”

“But I—”

“Hush. Let’s just go the fuck to sleep, ok?”

"Yeah, ok.”

⬅️Previous | Next ➡️

#mary goore #ofc #feral cats fic #ficlet #gritty girls #gutter punk #my writing

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polkapcp · 3 years

Text

@mxthbladed asked:

There was a brief moment that she pondered what she planned to do before she reached out and brushed her fingers into his hair. "Say, Ange, if I asked you to give me a makeover, would you?" (Let the shenanigans ensue)

➦ as the world might have it, ANGEL DUST had actually been setting curlers into his wig for the next time he’d be dragging out on the street, maybe for a swing by a renowned club? the polished comb of steeled fingers through his powdered puff makes for a sudden snap in his serenity, realizing vaggie had SINCE stuck around for the aftermath of their quarrel over the usage of gel && heat curlers. ( one bad remark about burning a chica’s feather-fucked hair && she loses it -- next thing you know, she’s planted like a bum on your bedsheets. )

❛ - wut’s wit’ the sudden mood swing, doll ? thought you’d be ticked about th’ whole ‘cock’s flock ‘a feathers’ remark. - ❜ of course, that settles the moment she asks about him doing her up fancy, to which his current bath-robed attire stands to its eight feet of attention. lower arms scoop under her chin as the top prioritize how much split ends might be weighing down her skull. ❛ - a lil trim migh’ help, maybe less condition’a -- definitely some product alongside a simple wash. . . yeh ; y’uh hair’s gonna be easy pickin’s. . . as fo’ style ? i don’ wanna fuck wit’cha neat lil goth aesthetic ya got goin’ -- why don’t i jus’ grab you some black nail polish && call it there, huh ? - ❜

it’ll take some time to genuinely put in the elbow grease, but by the time he’s done snipping off extra weight on her neck, maybe she’ll feel a little lighter on her toes, maybe help lift her mood && her headaches.

#: : — ★ 「 HM ! KINKY ;; IC. 」#: : — ★ 「 CREEPY FAN LETTERS ;; ASKS. 」#: : — ★ 「 MY ATLANTIS ;; VERSE 01. 」#mxthbladed

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tenaflyviper · 5 years

Text

I suppose it's too risky to try to carefully tap a hole in a specific area in a porcelain doll's face, huh?

I'm still working on "Alexis", and I had wanted to create a hole in her left cheek, and make shiny, gooey-looking, human-sized gums and teeth showing from inside the hole. Unfortunately, I worry about accidentally breaking off too much.

I plan to use black and green flocking powder to add some fuzzy "mold" in spots, and I plan to use black India ink to paint the scalp under her hair, and make it look like her hair is starting to become infected with black mold as well.

Overall, I'm using a combination of acrylic paint, pastel pencils, ground up pastels brushed on with makeup brushes, watercolor pencils, India ink, and plenty of Mr. Super Clear. I'll be adding flocking powder, and I'll probably distress her clothing using pastels, paint, and possibly a touch of bleach.

Poor doll. She started life as this:

Now I don't even know what she'll end up like.

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fablemonger-ao3 · 5 years

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Me-Oh, My-Oh, What a Girl!

There_Was_A_Star_Danced

Summary:

A little over two weeks after bringing home their first child, Emma Bernadette, Marinette wakes up to hear her husband serenading his “other girl” and thinks back.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Marinette thought it must have been the floorboards creaking that woke her, but she couldn’t be sure in the first three seconds after coming to consciousness. She stayed still, knowing how light Adrien slept, and that if she moved she would wake him. Emma was quiet for the moment, but Marinette had a new mother’s radar that knew when her child was awake and was just waiting for Emma to realize that she was hungry before Marinette herself moved.

Wait. Floorboard?

She shifted silently onto her back and looked towards the crib where, to her relief, Adrien stood smiling down at his “other girl”, his golden head shining in the moonlight from the window. A second or two later and the cooing baby was in his arms, being shifted onto his shoulder as she liked.

‘ Barely over two weeks old and she already prefers being tall. ’ Marinette thought wryly in her sleepy state. Whenever she wasn’t being fed, Marinette’s fussy infant enjoyed being held, the higher the better, and so when Grandpa Tom wasn’t around preferred her Dad’s arms over her mother's.

Adrien started humming as he walked around, nothing set at first, just something to send vibrations through his chest and so keep Emma calm. He brought her over to the window and stood looking out over Paris, a little golden spot above the blankets where his daughter’s head rested on his chest. Gradually his humming gathered strength and rhythm until she recognized it as an old Dean Martin song they’d translated into French for a project in high school. They’d both preferred the original version in the end though, and it was a staple for a little while when they dated. What was it called again? She listened.

What started out as humming changed to singing when the little one had gotten fussy again, Adrien shifting over with a quiet “Oh, you want to hear the words to it too, huh? Well okay, if you promise to go to sleep.”

“ The naughty lady, of shady lane, has hit the town like a bomb; ” Adrien began,

Marinette thought back to when she found out she was pregnant, and how she had told Adrien, her parents, Alya and Nino, Tikki, Plagg. Adrien had been thrilled beyond measure to learn he was gonna be a Dad, his “positive waves” as Nino called them easing any fear Marinette had that she was gonna be a good Mom.

Tom and Sabine had been equally supportive, and ecstatic they were finally gonna have a grandchild. Alya and Nino practically put Marinette under house arrest when they had found out, not letting her do anything until she had finally blown up (hormones, everyone agreed) and said if they didn’t stop smothering her she would transform and climb to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Everyone stopped smothering her.

Tikki and Plagg had been happy too, though worried for Marinette and Adrien’s safety as was everyone else. But in the end, they pacified themselves and set about making themselves useful. From Tikki, that meant a lot of practical advice and rationalizing with Marinette, and from Plagg that meant, well, he tried not to bring Camembert too close to Marinette while she had morning sickness.

“ The back fence gossips ain’t been this good, since Mabel ran off with Tom; ” Adrien went on, his voice soothing in the otherwise quiet of the room.

Marinette remembered the gossip that went around when Ladybug didn’t show up as usual to fights. She was there, of course, but hidden, cautious, generally hiding and dodging and telling Cat Noir what to do. Eventually, She stopped coming out at all when she started to show, and she had her loyal partners (Thank you, Master Fu) handle it and only call on her when she was needed. The Press had had a field day until Ladybug’s partners had shown up to a press conference with some hints being thrown out about a secret mission that required Ladybug’s attention for a matter of some months and she wasn’t likely to be back in circulation for a while yet. Marinette sighed in her mind. She wasn’t ready to go back into the fights that came their way. Did Superheroes take Maternity leave?

“ The town was peaceful and quiet, until she came on the scene. The lady has started a riot, disturbin’ the suburban routine… ”

She certainly had. Marinette thought to the early days of having her Miraculous and how everything grew since then, and yet stayed the same. And then suddenly being a superhero wasn’t the most important factor in her life anymore with a little plus sign on a plastic stick and the doctor’s words: “Congratulations Mrs. Agreste! You’re a mother!” Then it was a flurry of excitement and planning, talking with her mother and getting advice, being teased by Alya and Nino, setting up the nursery… actually, that one had evaded them for a while, which is why for the first month or so until the finishing touches could be done and the air purified of the residue of carpentry and painting, the baby was sleeping in their own bedroom.

“ Oh, the naughty lady of shady lane, has the town in a whirl!” Adrien went into the chorus, petting his daughter’s head against his chest, “ The naughty lady of shady lane: me-oh, my-oh, what a girl!”

Marinette smiled. Adrien had fallen head-over-heels with their little angel the moment she had been placed in their arms, and looking at him now, he hadn’t fallen one jot out of love. Of course, it had been easier for two people who were used to only sleeping half the night each anyway to adjust to having to wake up every hour to feed a little cooing bundle, so maybe that helped to dull the usually sharp disenchantment pains that most new parents felt. Marinette was grateful for that. In fact, she’d found it a little bit of a cushy assignment, and now she knew why.

As Adrien hummed the interlude between verses, he moved away from the window and to the new mini-fridge still awkwardly installed by the crib, pulling out a pre-made bottle and sticking it under his arm. ‘Sneaky little cat...’ , Marinette thought, with a smile as he began singing again.

“ You should see how she carries on, with her admirer’s galore. She must be giving them quite a thrill, the way they flock to her door.”

Marinette giggled softly, thinking of the near-constant flow of their many friends in the hospital and when they had gotten home. Even Chloe and Sabrina had stopped by once or twice to hold Emma, and Sabrina had gotten a little kick out of feeding her. Aunt Alya and Uncle Nino had almost moved in, and Tom and Sabine weren’t much better. But Adrien and Marinette liked the company, and it was well known that the Agreste's kept an open house, to “Aunt Nathalie’s” complete unamusement. Poor Nathalie; when Gabriel went missing, Nathalie wasn’t sure that Adrien would ever want to see her or his bodyguard again. But to her surprise, Adrien had relied on her as much as his father had, and Marinette had welcomed the extra protection that his bodyguard provided.

“ She throws those come hither glances, at every Tom, Dick, and Joe! And when offered some liquid refreshment: the lady never-never says no!”

Emma Bernadette might have been born with her father’s coloring and strong head of hair, (the doctor’s first words upon seeing her had been: “Look at that hair!”) but she had inherited her mother’s eye shape, and consequently “Marinette’s look of doom™”. It was physically impossible to resist loving those eyes, and Marinette dreaded with a passionate fervor the days when she would learn how to turn on the “baby-doll eyes”. And she certainly never turned down “liquid refreshment.” Sabine said she’d never seen a baby that greedy, but Nathalie swore she got it from her father.

“ Oh the naughty lady of shady lane, has the town in a whirl! The Naughty Lady, of Shady Lane: Me-oh, my-oh, what a girl!” Adrien sang the refrain again, and deeming the milk warm enough, began feeding Emma. Marinette swore that man could heat the whole room on his own if he tried. She’d often curled up with him on the colder of their runs around Paris, saving herself from frostbite through his warmth, and after many many trials (though less errors) Nathalie had finally agreed that he didn’t need to keep too close an eye on his diet and Marinette could finally stop having to sneak her own husband his favorite foods. Marinette smiled again, drinking in the sight of her Adrien and her Emma in the light of the window, Emma sucking greedily on the now warm bottle, and Adrien grinning and continuing his song.

“ The things they’re trying to pin on her, won’t hold much water, I’m sure. Beneath the powder and fancy lace, there beats a heart sweet and pure.”

Marinette had to hold back her habitual groan as she heard the puns coming from her husband’s mouth. She had known he was Cat Noir the first time they had heard the song together, but couldn’t understand why he had cottoned onto it so fast, especially that last verse. It wasn’t until a few days later, when they were talking about the project alone in her room that Adrien had let himself go, singing the puns at the top of his voice and suddenly it made sense why he had chosen this one. She had groaned heartily at it then, and she almost groaned now; but as in the first instance, a reluctant smile had pulled itself onto her face as she listened to her dorky husband.

“ She just needs someone to change her, and she’ll be nice as can be! If you’re in the neighborhood, stranger, you’re welcome to drop in and see-”

Marinette rolled her eyes silently and grinned.

“ The Naughty Lady, of Shady Lane! So delightful to hold! The Naughty Lady, of Shady Lane! So delectable! Quite respectable!” Adrien was forcing himself not to sing it in its usual way, but to sing it as a lullaby which in this last verse was hard. But he pushed through and finished and Marinette smiled.

“ And she’s only nine days old!”

Emma was cooing contentedly now, her bottle gone a couple of seconds ago, and Adrien stayed in the window with her for a while, re-singing snatches of the song as Emma burped and calmed down from the bottle, cooing all the while. Eventually, she fell asleep, and Adrien laid her down in her bed, whispering softly to her.

“Que des vols d'anges te chantent à ton repos, ma petite dame,” he whispered, kissing his daughter on the head before heading back to bed himself, crawling in beside Marinette. (“May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest, my little lady.”)

His hand came around her waist and he curled around her (she chuckled to herself) like a cat. She was almost sure she’d gotten away with seeing the whole thing unnoticed until he spoke softly in her ear.

“You should be asleep too, my ‘bug’ lady.”

Marinette opened her eyes and spoke drowsily, a smirk on her lips. “Who are you calling ‘bug’? I’m not ‘bug’ anymore. And whose fault was it in the first place?”

Adrien snickered.“ ‘Bug’ is relative to ‘little’, mon dame. And two puns in twenty seconds? From you? That’s gotta be some kind of record.”

Marinette snorted. “Hardly. Using the same pun twice when you are half asleep doesn’t count. And anyway, I’ve done better than that.”

Silent laughter from her husband shook the bed, and his rapid breathing tickled her neck. She broke into stifled giggles.

Adrien got up on his elbow and slowly kissed her shoulder, her jawbone, her cheek, her lips, and her forehead. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear: “Je t'aime mon dame.” … Then he promptly collapsed over top of her, and cuddled into her to never let her go while saying sternly, but not harshly: “Now go to sleep.” They both fell asleep to her breathy giggles into his shoulder. (“I love you, M’lady.”)

#fanfiction #fanfic #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #marinette agreste #adrien x marinette #adrien agreste #miraculous fanfic #babyfic #the naughty lady of shady lane #In honor of it's almost 500 reads #I am finally crossposting to Tumblr #sorry guys #these last couple months have been busy #hope you enjoy

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15hont1c · 5 years

Text

Week 5: The End

Our reflective essay should:

Discuss set text and how your screenplay was inspired by it.

Draw specific links between screenplay + source text.

Show familiarity with relevant aspects of book (period, themes, genre, location, etc)

Discuss writing process and the creative decisions you made.

Reflect on your journey from first idea to finished script.

Use quotes/evidence from screenwriting texts to explain and support your decisions.

Refer to any other books, films, images, etc that influenced your writing process.

Discuss how film would be like?

Discuss animation style, aesthetics, material, color palette, lighting, soundtrack.

Think about intended audience for film.

The tone and style of the reflective essay should follow the appropriate academic tone with citations and bibliography. The reflective essay can also use first person as it is meant to be discussing and analysing our own experiences.

The Last Night - Strictures of Victorian Society

Utterson is annoyed at the servants who are “huddled together like a flock of sheep.”

Upkeep of the Victorian calm and self-contained attitude.

The housemaid breaks into “hysterical whimpering.” -> Mass Hysteria

“A rather wild tale.”

Utterson stands for the audience as he expresses the same doubt/questions the readers ask.

“This drug is wanted bitter bad, sir.”

Depiction of drug addictions.

Victorians can buy over-the-counter heroin; frequented to opium dens and even babies who were born drug-addicts.

Stevenson himself is also a drug addict who was reliant on hallucinogens.

Poole seeing the masked man who was much smaller than his ‘master.’

Referral as a symbol of something hidden/concealed (like door).

Description is evocative and deepens the mystery.

Upon breaking the door, there was no big reveal; no dramatic scene.

Instead, they found a mirror with their own reflection reflected instead, showing the “evil” duality of themselves.

The scene also utilises the uncanny -> we expect the extraordinary, but is actually overwhelmingly ordinary in the scene, even though things are not ‘quite right.’

There is a duality/juxtaposition in the description of the scene: The twitching corpse and a defaced book as opposed to the boiling kettle.

Prompts the idea of “To what extent did Utterson cause the death of Hyde/Jekyll.”

The final two chapters were written in first person narrative:

Dr Lanyon revealing the core of the mystery.

Jekyll telling the chronological story that happened over the course of the novella through his perspective.

First Letter (Lanyon):

Lanyon receives a strange message, begging to carry out a series of specific and peculiar requests.

Jekyll/Hyde begs Lanyon for help.

He goes to fetch a drawer containing powders and a test tube from his lab and goes to wait for the mystery man.

Hyde’s too desperate for the drugs, and gives him the option to leave to watch him ingest it.

Dr Lanyon is bound to secrecy - bound by the Hippocratic oath.

He is unable to reveal what he knows.

Even in a vulnerable state, Hyde presents himself as more superior than Lanyon.

The format of an ‘objective’ third person narrative + ‘subjective’ first person accounts was a trope of Victorian fiction, but was also similar to the medical literature of that period. Anne Stiles (2006) observes that the book’s structure reflects the medical case studies of that period, but also subverts them. Jekyll’s character is both the physician and patient in the story.

Jekyll’s observation states that “man is not truly one, but truly two.” This reflects a Victorian theory that ‘each brain hemisphere might house a separate personality or a separate soul.’ It can be imagined that when a Victorian reads this, they may become afraid of their inner “Hyde” taking over.

An example of this could be the case study of an injured French soldier called Sergeant F which was discussed in the medical Cornhill magazine. According to Stiles in her book Popular Fiction and Brain Science in the Late Nineteenth Century on page 43, Sergeant F developed “two distinct personalities upon a gunshot injury in the left brain hemisphere.” His first state is known as intelligent and kindly, while his second state displayed “animalistic and automatic qualities along with impaired sensory impressions.” He is also resilient to pain in this second state.

Even though Sergeant F was male and his condition was caused by an external factor (gunshot), the ‘multiplex personality’ was almost overwhelmingly a female condition. Felida X was an example of a female patient that was also discussed in the Cornhill magazine. Felida’s condition was natural occurring, exhibited hysteria and has another ‘peculiar secondary state of mind.’ She felt pain when transitioning between the two states. While she felt better in this second state, it had “unfortunate moral consequences,” such as when she got herself pregnant with a man whom she had no romantic interest in the first mind state. Her subconscious base instincts made her chase after the man and impregnated herself due to it.

Applying to Jekyll and Hyde, we can see that Hyde was wrestling against the approaches of hysteria. Hysteria is a centuries old illness that no one really understood at the time. It was usually diagnosed when no other cause could be found for its exaggerated symptoms. Examples include:

Salem Witch Trials

Occurred in 1692, over 200 people were accused of practicing witchcraft.

20 people were hung upon accusations from mass hysteria.

Neighbours and friends turn against one another.

Started because a group of girls exhibited convulsions and weird spastic behaviour -> epilepsy.

Most of them were girls and women.

Anneliese Michel

A German woman who was supposedly ‘possessed’ by a demon after a complicated series of illnesses early in her life.

Suffered a seizure and diagnosed with psychosis of temporal lobe epilepsy.

Took a lot of medication, but her condition worsened (as well as her mental health.)

Began to hear voices and became intolerant to sacred Christian sacred places and objects.

Stiles (2006) theorised that the small, puny, right-brained Hyde has something of the Victorian femininity about him; emotionally unstable, physically chaotic and somehow ‘lesser’ than his male counterparts. In the novella, Poole describes Hyde as “weeping like a woman.”

The nocturnal setting, theme of monstrosity and embedded narratives (i.e fragments, manuscripts and letters.

Key Features of the Gothic

Wild landscapes vs imprisonment

Hyde was constantly ‘imprisoned’ by the duality in Jekyll’s personality.

Other characters were also imprisoned by the Victorian society’s rules.

The re-emergence of the past within the present (often represented by ghosts - the thing you thought was dead.)

Exploring the limits of what it is to be human.

Internal desires or forces outside our control.

Perverse, weird and dangerous kinds of sexuality - incest, abduction, violence.

The vulnerable of women in 19th century - the ‘triumph’ of young women over seemingly impossible force.

The Uncanny

Figures that are not quite ‘human’ (dolls, was works, automata)

May feature ‘evil’ doubles.

“Somebody who seems unfamiliar and strange in fact has an identity you already know.”

No one in the novella could really describe what Hyde looked like; an uncanny physical description.

We can harness the power of the uncanny to enhance the story in our writing.

Less is More

Planting the seeds and letting the readers’ imagination flow.

Stay Close

Use all senses when writing, stay close to the protagonist and allow the audience to feel their fear.

Make it personal

Use your own fears/phobias to make the scene more realistic.

Give the reader time to feel the fear

Place hints that something disturbing is going to happen.

Create a mood of tension/horror before it actually happens.

Provide something uncanny that is both familiar and unfamiliar.

Allow the sense of underlying unease to intensify over time.

E.g A radio turns on by itself, a child toy changes position.

The Birth of Urban Gothic Horror

Jekyll and Hyde is usually considered as the first ‘urban gothic’ novel. Gothic revivalists of the 19th century believe the threat is no longer an external force, but rather an evil that is curled inside the very heart of the respectable middle class person. This scared the readers at the time even more, as to some extent, the evil was inescapable. The progressive society with the advancement of the Industrial Revolution caused the dark progress of social and psychological effects. Moral decay was an obsession of the Victorians. By identifying and analysing that fear, they seek to control and contain it.

How to Write Dialogue

Unnatural is natural

Not real speech, but a representation of it.

Aim to capture the flavour of speech (without the boring stale bits)

“Natural speech is full of hesitation, repetitions, omissions... when we’re listening to it in real life, our brains filter this out and extract the essential parts (Pierre, 2011).

The S.A.D method

Dialogue is a function of character. Know the character well so their dialogue flows easily.

Status - Who was the upper hand?

Agenda: What is the purpose of the conversation?What do they hope to gain from it.

Desire: What do they want? (What is their ultimate goal/super objective.)

Inhabit their physical space

Listen to how differently different people talk.

Our physical bodies affect our voice. Spend time imagining yourself as the character.

E.g. Timid & trembling? Broad & bold?

Silence is gold

What people don’t say is just as important as what they do.

What are they avoiding to talk about?

Actions speak louder than words.

Explanation kills drama

Characters should talk to each other, not the audience.

“Good dialogue is a manifestation of behaviour, not an explanation” (Yorke, 2013, p150).

Dialogue is not just a Q & A

Good dialogue is surprising and unpredictable.

Promises excitement, but keeps us waiting for it.

Drip-feeds information but withholds answers.

Be ruthless

Dialogue should either move the story forward or reveal something about the character.

If it does not, take that out!

Always read the dialogue aloud.

Make sure the dialogue can actually be spoken/performed realistically.

Reference:

Stiles (2006) - https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=KyFrjbezjSgC&pg=PA43&lpg=PA43&dq=sergeant+F+brain+study&source=bl&ots=XgsrEFdmxR&sig=ACfU3U0cTzmOzIkZPnboQKh4FeOQA41Zzg&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiC5dm7t4LgAhVho3EKHTYRAJcQ6AEwA3oECAUQAQ#v=onepage&q=sergeant%20F%20brain%20study&f=false

#story adaptation #year 2

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dillvne · 6 years

Text

TASK 001. DIVE INTO YOUR CHARACTER.

oi chuchus, tentei fazer um negócio diferente então acabei juntando algumas coisinhas que, na minha concepção, são bem interessantes. e que coletei durante as aventuras pela tag indie. espero que não tenha problema estar em inglês ! a tag para a postagem da task é task01.apocalypse e sintam-se livres para fazer edits, moodboard ou qualquer opções de aesthetic, ou nenhuma. o que acharem melhor. é isso, espero que gostem <3

YOUR STEREOTYPICAL MASCULINE SIDE

NEGRITE o que se aplicar ao seu personagem.

you love hoodies. you love shorts. dogs are better than cats. it’s hilarious when people get hurt. shopping is torture. sad movies suck. you own a car racing game. you played with hot wheels cars as a kid. at some point in time you wanted to be a fire fighter. you owned a ds, ps2, n64, or sega. you used to be obsessed with power rangers. you have watched sports on tv. gory movies are cool. you go to your dad for advice. you own like a trillion baseball caps. you used to collect hockey or baseball cards. baggy sweats are cool to wear. it’s kinda weird to have sleepovers with a bunch of people. green, black, red, blue, or silver are one of your favourite colours. you love to go crazy and not care what people think. sports are fun. you talk with food in your mouth. you sleep with your socks on at night. you have fished at least once.

YOUR STEREOTYPICAL FEMININE SIDE

you love to shop. you wear eyeliner. you wear the color pink. you go to your mom to talk. you consider cheerleading a sport. you hate wearing the color black. you like going to the mall. you like getting manicures and/or pedicures. you like wearing jewelry. you cried watching the notebook. dresses are a big part of your wardrobe. shopping is one of your favorite hobbies. you don’t like the movie star wars. you are/were in gymnastics. it takes you around one hour to shower, get dressed, and make-up. you smile a lot more than you should. you have more than 10 pairs of shoes. you care about what you look like. you like wearing dresses when you can. you like wearing high heel shoes. you used to play with dolls as little kid. you like putting make-up on others. you like being the star of everything.

APPEARANCE

i am shorter than 5’5”. i have scars. i tan easily. i wish my hair was a different color. i have friends who have never seen my natural hair color. i have a tattoo. i am self-conscious about my appearance. i’ve had/have braces. i’ve been told i’m attractive by a complete stranger. i have more than two piercings. i have/had piercings in places besides my ears.

EXPERIENCES

i’ve gotten lost in my city. i’ve seen a shooting star. i’ve wished on a shooting star. i’ve seen a meteor shower. i’ve gone out in public in my pajamas. i’ve pushed all the buttons on an elevator.i’ve kicked a guy where it hurts. i’ve been to a casino. i’ve been skydiving. i’ve gone skinny-dipping. i’ve drank a whole gallon of milk in one hour. i’ve crashed a car. i’ve been skiing. i’ve been in a musical. i’ve caught a snowflake or snow on my tongue. i’ve seen the northern lights. i’ve sat on a rooftop at night. i’ve played a prank on someone. i’ve ridden in a taxi. i’ve seen the rocky horror picture show. i’ve eaten sushi. i’ve been snowboarding.

HONESTY/CRIME

i’ve done something i promised someone else i wouldn’t. i’ve done something i promised myself i wouldn’t. i’ve snuck out. i’ve lied to my parents about where i am. i’ve cheated while playing a game. i’ve ran a red light. i’ve witnessed a crime. i’ve been in a fist fight. i’ve been arrested.

DEATH AND SUICIDE

i’m afraid of dying. i hate funerals. i’ve seen someone/something dying. someone close to me has attempted/committed suicide. i’ve written a eulogy for myself.

RANDOM

i can sing well. stolen a tray from a fast food restaurant. i open up to others easily. i watch the news. i don’t kill bugs. i sing in the shower. i am a morning person. i paid for a cell phone ring tone. i am a sports fanatic. i twirl my hair. i care about grammar. i have “?”’s in my screen name. i’ve copied more than 30 cds in a day. i bake well. my favorite color is either white, yellow, pink, red, blue, black, purple, or orange. i would wear pajamas to school. i like martha stewart. i know how to shoot a gun. i laugh at my own jokes. i eat fast food weekly. i’ve not turned anything in and still got an a in a certain class. i can’t sleep if there is a spider/cockroach in the room. i am ticklish. i love white chocolate. i bite my nails. i’m good at remembering faces.i’m good at remembering names. i’m good at remembering dates. i honestly have no idea what i want to do for the rest of my life.

RUSSIAN CLASSICS AESTHETICS.

NEGRITE o que atrair / se aplicar ao seu personagem.

BROTHERS KARAMAZOV : orthodox monasteries , deep woods , starry nights , the sound of paper being torn , dimly lit rooms , withered roses , an unfinished letter , piles of books , the sound of shattering glass , ticking of clocks in a silent house , heavy wooden furniture , the air before a storm , the smell of earth , a crowd of people dressed in black , distant murmurs , emptied streets , the fear of walking alone in dusk.

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT : coldness of the skin against a blade , slender pale fingers & slightly shaking hands , a red stain blooming on white fabric , lonely steps in a corridor , the slow dripping of water , looking out of the window into the thickening darkness , a single dying candle on the table , listening to one’s breath & counting heartbeats , too many stairs , the desire to be invisible , a subtle memory of kind word.

THE IDIOT : classical statues , wealth covered with dust , a dark house tainted with inherited madness , an unsettling feeling , long walks in a park , useless chatter , a silken ribbon forgotten on a bench , a melancholic face , an unexpected spring rain , the joy of reading one’s favorite book , the clarity of mind after fully perceiving the world around , looking at cloudless sky.

ANNA KARENINA : fields of crops , flowers brought from an early morning walk , the wind caressing a girl’s hair , a bowl of fruit , the smell of ripe pears , the clatter of a spoon against porcelain when stirring tea , children’s laughter coming from the garden , soft sunlight & white curtains , the sensation of velvet against skin , pearls from a ripped necklace spilling on marble floor , a sudden silence in a room full of people.

WAR AND PEACE : a glass of wine , the brightness of a crystal chandelier , white lace , a raging snow storm , the sound of a door being gently closed , the moment of holding one’s breath before walking in a ball room , indulging in looking at a beautiful earring against light , closing one’s eyes for a moment while dancing , the sweet smell of strawberries , a pair of gloves left on an armchair , light scent of powder.

THE MASTER AND MARGARITA : the chaos of a lively city , ambient jazz in expensive restaurants , jumping on a moving tram , the sight of moscow from the roof of a house , yellow flowers in a vase , leaning out of the window , shelves stacked with books , a small tin box with old photographs , strange shapes in the night sky , laughing in the middle of the night on a balcony , colorful posters for a surreptitious magician’s show floating in the wind.

EUGENE ONEGIN : a lonely mansion , reading a book in the parlor , faint piano melody lingering in falling silence , long evenings , passing seasons , discussing french novels of the moment , unspoken thoughts , leaning against the door frame , quickly averted glance , eating a peach absent-minded , bright mornings , footprints in snow , a loud gun-shot terrifying a flock of birds nearby.

FATHERS AND SONS : birch groves , morning mist , moss-covered stones near a moor , scientific books , white roses , cheap champagne , shabby pocket-watch , light-hearted irony , a maladroit cello sonata , freshly mowed grass , leaving thoughts come & go , a slow yawn , picturesque plates & bowls filled with traditional dishes , drinking tea on the porch.

DOCTOR ZHIVAGO : a strange feeling of loss , writing poems in a diary , traveling by train , the hesitation before touching someone’s hand , the gaze of one lost in thought , the warmth of cinnamon , a scarf brightly embellished with flowers , a glass of water , a threadbare jacket , the tempting void , the evanescent serenity of yesterday.

CHERRY ORCHARD : a lone chair in an empty room , falling blossoms , old samovar , the unsettling need for change , a mirror reflecting full moon , the disappointment of a glossy object turning worthless after second glance , a piano out of tune.

#task01.apocalypse

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headmycanon · 6 years

Text

MC Who is Really Bad at Makeup

Jumin

You and Jumin had been married for a couple of months. He made sure to hire the best fashion designers and makeup artists to make you look unbelievable for your wedding. When you first started living at Jumin’s studio, he assumed that you couldn’t bring your makeup from Rika’s apartment, so you didn’t bother. Shortly after the RFA party, he realised that you never wore makeup, even when he offered to purchase you high quality products. He was confused- all girls wear makeup, don’t they? He began taking a closer look at his female colleagues, leading to some angry outbursts from Jaehee- apparently women didn’t like to be stared at. The fact that you didn’t wear makeup didn’t bother him, he just found it odd. Whenever you had outings, he would always just hire someone to do your hair and makeup and the media never really paid mind to your face. It wasn’t until you were meeting Jumin’s father at a fancy restaurant and your makeup artist had to cancel last minute that you had done your makeup by yourself. You never went through the acne stage of puberty, so you never bothered wearing it. The last time you did it yourself was as a little kid when playing with makeup at a sleepover party.

Now, you were stuck, standing in front of the mirror, surrounded by beauty supplies. “What’s that?” You thought to yourself, picking up what looked like an eyeshadow pallet. “Highlighter? And this isn’t a brand name… I guess I’m not using this.” You skipped a lot of steps a woman of your age would typically go through to do her makeup as you simply didn’t understand the purpose. You gave up on the eyeliner because it was crooked no matter how many times you’ve done it and you almost poked your eye out on several occasions; you gave up on concealer because what the fuck is a concealer?

When you were finally done, you sighed. “Good enough.” You fixed your hair that the hairstylist had completed about an hour ago and smacked your lips together after one last coat of lipstick.

You walked out of the bathroom, into your bedroom to show your husband. Upon seeing your face, he turned pale as a ghost. “Um… it’s nice, kitten… what a unique choice of colours for your eyes. Are you sure this is practical?” You assumed that purple eyeshadow would be a good asset to your purple dress. Unfortunately, the purple from the eyeshadow kit Jumin gave you was very subtle when placed on the face so you needed to apply multiple layers. “I believe you have applied too much foundation, as well… you look like Elizabeth III.” Elizabeth meowed from between his dress shoes.

“Um…” you didn’t know what to say. You weren’t angry at him. Your husband was always incredibly blunt, which either made arguments extremely easy to be sorted out or even easier to begin.

“I will need to reschedule…” Jumin looked down at his phone and sent a text, probably to Jaehee to cancel.

Jumin felt bad that you didn’t know how to apply makeup as he felt all girls should be able to. When he had handed you the makeup, he assumed you knew what you were doing and left it at that. He decided he would sign you up for basic makeup classes just in case one of his stylists cancelled again.

Seven

Being married to Saeyoung meant a lot of commitments. While this required emotional support, for not only your husband but also his brother, there were tons of fun commitments. One of Saeyoung’s favourite things to do was cosplay…or should I say crossplay? Whether it was for the hell of it, or to mess with the RFA on the messenger, or for...um…intimate times, he was intent on dressing up. This never bothered you. You’d often go along with it and help him dress up, occasionally dressing up yourself. It was fine until the day Saeyoung broke his arm. You don’t know what he did and questioned if you even wanted to know. According to Saeran, he was paying too much attention to his phone and ended up jamming his arm hard with his car door… you figured there was more to the story. Since he was left without his dominant arm, Saeyoung relied on you and Saeran to complete a lot of his everyday tasks. You were fine doing all of these chores- you did most of the chores anyways, but trouble came when he asked you to do his makeup. Whenever you cosplayed, Saeyoung always offered to do the makeup. You didn’t bother telling him that you don’t know how to put it on properly, but never considered he would break his arm.

“Baaaaaabeeeeee” he whined, more to annoy you than anything else.

“Whaaaaat? You whined back.

“I’m gonna dress up as a magical girl! Can you do my makeup?”

“I guess...” you hesitated.

So there you were, standing in front of his never ending pile of makeup supplies- surprisingly even larger than his load of Honey Buddha Chips. You sifted through his supplies until you could find some items you recognized and went to work. Unlike his normal hyper self, Saeyoung was very calm when applying makeup, to be as precise as possible. You hoped he didn’t notice your shaking hand when you applied his eyeliner because he definitely would when you were finished. He noticed there was an issue when you spread way too much setting powder on his face, causing him to cough and sneeze. He quickly felt around beside him to find his glasses and picked up the mirror in a hurry. The smirk on his face was not satisfaction but of amusement. You couldn’t get him to stop laughing and you couldn’t reach his phone in time for him to post a bunch of selfies on the RFA chat, showing off your “makeup wonders”.

Yoosung

You and Yoosung had been dating for a couple of years. He had finished his degree and was opening his veterinarian office very soon. The boy never noticed that you didn’t wear makeup. He didn’t notice a lot of things, but that’s because it’s difficult to get him to think. Due to the grand opening of his veterinarian office, you decided that you would dress up and put more effort into your appearance. You knew Yoosung would find you beautiful no matter how you looked, you just wanted to try a bit harder and maybe give him more of a reason to show you off to his friends. After all, he was the first of his friends to get a girlfriend.

You got up around the same time as Yoosung did that day, something Yoosung found a bit odd as it was your day off. Nonetheless, he made you a quick breakfast before heading out to the office. When you heard the door shut, you got all excited and had to find a way to control yourself before you started your makeup. It took a couple of hours, but you were ready to see your boyfriend.

Upon walking into the clinic, you received a few stares from the visitors to the party. You shrugged it off, assuming they were confused how Yoosung could land such a pretty girl. It was not until you reached him, that you realised something was off.

“Hey, MC!” Yoosung exclaimed, trying to hold a smile and bite back his laughter.

“Yoosung! I’m so proud of you!” You ran up and hugged your boyfriend.

“Thanks! A-and you look… um… different? Did you do something with your face?” he asked hesitantly.

“Um, yeah. Is there something wrong?”

“Oh, aha, no. You look lovely, but I think you have something on your cheek…you should check it out in the bathroom…” You realised all of the stares you had been receiving- it was the makeup! How did you mess up? Wasn’t it in a girl’s genes to make the perfect eyeliner wing? Your face turned bright red as you looked down in embarrassment. “Oh, um. Can everyone excuse me?”

Yoosung took you to the side and lifted up your face to look eye to eye. “Uh, you wore makeup!” he tried so hard to sound enthusiastic.

“Yeah… I guess it didn’t turn out how I wanted it to…” you giggled.

He giggled, too. “You know you don’t have to do that for me. You look beautiful just as your natural self!”

You nodded but looked down again. “I wanted to impress you and make you happy…”

“How can I not be happy? My girlfriend tried to put on makeup just for me! I bet all of my friends are jealous!”

“Should I take it off?” you asked, meekly.

“Let’s go to the bathroom.”

The rest of the afternoon went by smoothly. Nobody brought up the makeup fiasco and Yoosung was extremely happy with how many potential clients turned up. You were given several compliments from Yoosung’s friends, including some hitting on you to Yoosung’s demise. You decided you would never attempt to wear makeup before making sure you didn’t look like a clown.

Zen

Dating Hyun had its ups and its downs. He was a semi-famous theatre actor and constantly had girls flocking to him, whether you were present or not. You knew Hyun was faithful and loved you dearly, but you couldn’t help but feel intimidated by some of his gorgeous fangirls. They were lovely, while you were plain. You often visited Hyun directly after your long day at work, so you never exactly looked your best. He seemed happy to see you regardless, but you felt that you should put in a little more effort in the case that he was having second thoughts about you. On a day when you were allowed to leave work earlier, you decided to stop by your shared apartment and “doll yourself up”. You were never one to put too much effort into your appearance. You would wear light makeup to make yourself look presentable in an office environment, but never felt the need to do anything extravagant. This time was going to be different. You pulled out the eyeshadow kit your sister had given you for Christmas years ago, unopened but ready to be used.

You breathed in, ready to open the doors to Hyun’s studio. You were a bit nervous about showing up earlier than expected, but figured the surprise would make him happy. However, this was not exactly the case…

Hyun screamed higher than you knew was possible, almost high enough to be a dog whistle, when you walked into the theatre. “O-oh! MC! That’s you! I thought you were- um…. Is it October already?”

That was the moment you realised you fucked up. “U-uh…I gotta go!” You quickly ran out to the streets, ready to walk home, ready to try and convince Hyun it was an allusion…but you were stopped.

“Jagiya! What’s the rush? Didn’t you want to see me?”

“Oh, um… I realised that something sudden came up-” You went to leave, but were stopped by Hyun’s tight arms.

“Jagiya, you don’t need to hide. I was just surprised. I feel so bad for reacting like that! Please forgive me! Turn around, please! I want to see you!”

You gave your panicking boyfriend a break and turned to face him, with a sigh. “Yeah, I look stupid, I know… I just figured I needed to look pretty to be-”

“You’re too perfect for me!” he interrupted you. “Don’t you ever think that you’re not pretty or smart or charismatic or anything! I don’t deserve such an angelic soul! You were the one who loved me from what was inside and not for my face! Jagiya-why are you crying?” He grabbed hold of your head and pressed it to his chest. Hyun ran his fingers through your hair until you calmed down.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I wanted to be like the girls you are surrounded by, Lovely Zen…but I’m not like them at all.”

“You not being like them at all is why I’m with you and not them! Do you think they’re able to make me smile as much as you do?”

In the end, Hyun decided that he would teach you how to do makeup properly in the case that you wanted to try it again. This fiasco was a thing in the past that you both learned to laugh about. You knew that Zen loved you no matter what and you loved him.

#mystic messenger #mmhc #mm #mystic messenger head canon #mystic messenger hc

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