#i don't know why i keep trying to shade night scenes i hate night scenes my colours and shadows never work out in night scenes...

[benevolenterrancy]

Jin Guangyao Is In Desperate Need Of Human Contact And Is Constantly Trying To Find Ways To Make Himself Feel Safe: Therefore He Would Definitely Be A Little Spoon, In This Essay I Will

[call-me-a-simp]

Heal My Wounds

Not This Time (part 20)

Rhea Ripley x Reader

Tw: physical and sexual abuse, toxic relationship, selfharm, eating disorder

Summary: You are in a toxic relationship with an abusive man but manage to run away. A tall, black haired woman picks you up from the streets just in time so your ex doesn't get you. But who is she and why does she seem so familiar to you? As you get to know each other you start to notice weird feelings you never had before whenever she's around.

You come back with a tray of pizza fresh from the ofen. Well, not exactly fresh pizza, it's a bought one that you kept in the freezer.

You walk in on Rhea sitting in bed, tucked under the sheets. Her shoulders aren't covered by the blanket so you can see that she isn't wearing her shirt anymore.

"What film did you pick?" you ask and she looks up from her phone. "None actually as we won't watch it anyway" she shrugs.

You give her a crooked smile and hand her the pizza tray. As she lifts her arms to take it from you the sheets fall down a little, uncovering her bare chest.

You sit down next to her "Fine, then I'll choose one" you say and bend over her to take the TV remote. "Mh, I have an idea" Rhea says with a mouth full of pizza and swallows.

"What about" she smirks "we watch fifty shades of gray and try something new" she looks at you with excitement. "I've even got all the toys and stuff that we need" she grins.

She's got "all the toys", so she means handcuffs and stuff?

"I- I don't know Rhea.. I'm not really comfortable with being tied to the bed and stuff.." you mumble and press your lips together so they create a thin line. You hated to disappoint her.

"What if you don't get tied up?" she asks. You shrug "guess we'll find out then" you smirk. "But I know one thing for sure" you lean over to her and whisper in her ear "you're so gonna get fucked to night"

It's all you say for the following hour, you're just sitting there next to her, watching the film and eating pizza. You secretly cheer to yourself as she squirms when a sex scene comes up on the screen.

"y/n" she whispers but keeps her eyes on the TV. "hm?" you hum with a grin. "You know exactly what you're doing, don't you?" she mutters. " 'course I do" you smirk and she let's out a frustrated sigh.

Another few minutes pass by until she begins to plead to touch you. "Oh Rhea" you sigh, she looks at you with puppy eyes and you just have to give in.

"Fine, where do you keep them?" she excitedly claps her hands and jumps up from the bed to get them. Only thing is, she forgot she doesn't wear anything anymore.

You whistle as she runs around the bed and over to her closet where she opens a drawer. You can see her blush and turn away slightly. You smirk "Oh come on, suddenly it makes you uncomfortable? Be for real now I've seen it before"

"Ah hey!" you're surprised by her suddenly pinning you down on the bed. Usually it would scare you, reminding you of your ex, but you've grown so confident with Rhea and you trust her enough to know she wouldn't hurt you on purpose. Not like he did.

"I bet you won't talk like this anymore after I'm done with you" she growls with a grin. "You sure about that?" you raise a brow. You use her slight confusion to your advantage and manage to get on top.

"Stay there pretty, or you're not getting anything tonight" you smirk as the realisation hits her and she pouts. She prefers to be the dominant one, you knew that, but you couldn't help but tease her. Plus, you also wanted to try being on top as your ex never let you.

You get up and walk over to the opened drawer. You take a second to see what she's got and decide for handcuffs and a strap on.

"y/n, baby, come on" she begs. "Nope, you're not getting away with this. If you decide to run around naked then you have to face the consequences. Now hands up" you demand her and she gives in.

You cuff her hands but don't tie them to the bed. "Now be a good girl and don't touch me." "but-" "ah ah, no touching!". She huffs "you're so mean.." and pouts.

You laugh and begin to take off your clothes to put on the strap. "Safeword's Riptide by the way" she mutters, and you nod. She's still a little pissed but you can tell by the undertone in her voice that she secretly likes it.

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

Part 20. Decided to split it in two parts instead of making a long one just to tease you a little more 😘

Taglist:@babybatlover @legit9thlunaticwarrior @thatonepansexual2000

[rims-things]

Lost in Your Arms 

Fanfiction 

Genre : Romance / Fluff / Comfort 

Pairing : Myul Mang ( Kim Saram) / Tak Dong Kyung 

Show : Doom at your Service 

Warning : Do not read if you are not comfortable with a little passion between the couple + wound kissing 

Setup : It takes place right after episode 12 last elevator scene 

Tak Dong Kyung watched him as he stood out of the elevator, with a wrecked look on his face. She was anxious to even think about the fact that this person might be someone she knew. But he, on the other hand, looked confused and afraid at the same time.

She took a step forward to step out of the elevator, but he vanished in thin air. With sheer disappointment, she walked towards her room, blaming everything on her illness.

The next day was a bit hectic for her. She had to go through a lot of tests and some of her initial treatments were getting started. Hardly did she have any time to think of the events of last night. But as the sun went down and midnight approached, she subconsciously waited for him to appear.

She wore her usual hospital dress and an oversized jacket, with her hair loosely tied up in a bun. After unknowingly waiting for him on the terrace, she tried her luck in the parking area.

All she could do was Sigh, looking at all the cars that appeared to be staring at her and asking what exactly was she expecting.

She looked at her bracelet and wondered why it was so precious to her.

I better get back to my room -- she thought.

But just when she was about to head back, she saw the headlights of a car lit up and her eyes instantly fell on a kitten sitting near the tire.

Tak Dong Kyung rushed towards the car and stood right infront, making the person hit the brakes instantly.

She quickly bent down and took the kitten away from the tire.

"Are you okay ? "- she said, caressing the young cat.

"Do you want to die too ??? "  yelled the man who came out of the car.

Dong Kyung let the cat slide away as she stood up to face the man. He looked extremely furious.

"I'm sorry Sir, there was a ..." she tried to give an explanation when she noticed a Knife and blood on his hand.

"Is that blood ? What did you do? " She asked, suspecting that he was some sort of a criminal. 

Her guess was right, and she could hear a buzz in the hospital. But before she could act on it, the man grabbed her by the hair and tried to put her into the car.

"I'll kill you too " he declared as he opened the door to put her inside, but Dong Kyung couldn't give up so easily. She resisted and tried her best to scream but he covered her mouth with his hand.

"Just get inside the car if you want to live " the man shouted, he wanted to run away before the security got to the parking area and he couldn't leave a witness.

He was almost about to put her inside the car when he sensed a weird tension in the air. Everything was strangely silent all of a sudden.

It was then, that Dong Kyung noticed a tall figure standing at a short distance. As he approached them, she could see who it was. He wore a long wine colored coat with a sweater allowing a generous display of his neck.

He walked towards them with his hands in the pockets of his loose trousers. His face looked pale and eyes red with anger. She noticed the lights starting to flicker, the same way it had happened the night before.

"Who are you " the killer asked.

"Myul Mang " He said , tilting his head slightly to dart his eyes at the killer's hand which had grabbed Dong Kyung's hair.

The killer instantly left her and she fell to the ground.

"Aah.." she said, as she hit the surface.

Myul Mang stared at the killer with fury in his eyes.

The criminal picked up his knife again and tried to reach Dong Kyung, but she was quick enough to get up right on time and run towards Myul Mang.

She crashed on him against his chest and grabbed on to him as tightly as possible.

Myul Mang didn't move. He kept staring at the killer.

"He has killed someone " Dong Kyung whispered to him in terror.

He looked down at her and it was then that he noticed a small scratch on her neck because of the force with which the killer might have grabbed her.

He frowned and looked back at the man who was frozen near his car.

"I would have simply handed you over to the Police, if you had not done that to her " Myul Mang informed before blinking his eyes which was enough to bring doom on the killer.

His neck suddenly tilted and with the sound of a bone crack, he fell to the ground.

Tak Dong Kyung shut her eyes and hugged Myul Mang tightly, scared to imagine what was happening at her back. He gently put one of his hand on her head.

"Are you okay ? " He asked in a whisper, to which she nodded.

When she lifted her head up to look at him, she felt something change around her. When she looked towards her right, she found herself in an entirely different place.

It was a large mysterious hall, with lamps lit with fire. She could see a large circular window behind him which had a dark shade of blue.

Her eyes widened and she looked at him in confusion.

"Where are we ?" She asked.

"It's my home " he said with a straight face.

She walked away from him and looked around. The place felt familiar but she couldn't remember anything.

"Have I been here before?" She asked.

"I hope not. " he said nervously.

She gave him a scared look and went ahead to sit next to the large window. She could see the night sky and twinkling stars.

"It's beautiful.." she exclaimed.

Myul Mang walked up to her which made her stand up instantly. She guessed he was there to say something, but he stood merely inches away from her.

She coughed slightly and looked away, feeling his intense gaze on her.

"Where did he hurt you? " He asked, taking his hand near her neck where he had seen the injury.

But she instantly grabbed his hand and looked back at him.

"What did you mean back then? "

Myul Mang raised his brow.

".. when you said, you would have simply handed the killer to the police if he had not done this to me "  she questioned.

He instantly took his hand off from her grip and moved back. He sighed and looked away. Obviously, he had no answer.

" Did you kill him ? " She asked, swallowing a lump in her throat.

Myul Mang stared back at her.

"Would you hate me if I did ? " He asked.

"No." She replied, without giving it a second thought. She herself was clueless how she was so confident that she wouldn't hate him.

"Why?" He asked.

"Because I'm sure you might have done it for a reason. You're that kind of being." She answered in a go, as if it was already there in her subconscious.

He felt he had heard that before, but when? He couldn't recall.

It made him anxious and he walked back to her, raising his hand towards her neck again.

"Let me see please.. " he pleaded, but she backed off.

"Keep your hands away until you answer me " she said.

"What ? " He asked.

Tak Dong Kyung sighed.

"I think.. I know you..  but I dont remember, have we met before ?" She said, searching for answers.

Her questions made him confused, as he already had his doubts. He gulped in and looked away,  unable to understand what to say.

"I don't know " he said.

Tak Dong Kyung took a deep breath before continuing.

"I don't remember anything, but I feel, I was happy with you..I feel....

.. I.. loved you" she spoke.

What she said, made him restless and he walked to her staring deep into her eyes which were welling up.

He pursed his lips and tried not to react to what she just said. He wanted to escape the situation as soon as possible, but he was concerned for her as well. And somehow, he knew what she was saying might even be true.

He sighed and gulped in before speaking up.

"Let. Me. See." He said sternly, clearly trying to avoid what she was saying.

She shook her head for a No.

"Keep your hands off. Answer me first."

It was enough to make him loose patience and he instantly pulled her towards him, encircling his hands around her waist.

She was taken aback as she immediately grabbed his coat to prevent herself from falling.

"What are you doing? " She asked, trying to catch her breath.

His gaze pierced her soul. It was just a little scratch she had on her neck, but he wanted it gone as soon as possible. Even he didn't know why he felt that way, given that he already knew she was going to die soon.

"You want me to keep my hands off. Fine."

She looked at him, confused about what he exactly meant.

To her surprise, he suddenly tilted his head, leaned down to her neck, and planted a soft kiss on the scratch.

Her stomach twisted as she felt his lips on her skin. She inhaled sharply and clenched the collar of his coat tighter.

He lifted his head up and looked at the scratch disappear. But he soon realized that he had escalated the tension between them. She had shut her eyes and was gasping for air.

"It's gone now" he said, looking at her intently.

She opened her eyes slowly and gathered courage to look up at him.

She felt a strange comfort when their eyes met.

"It was just a scratch" she whispered.

"Then just thank me " he said, his voice cracking.

She swallowed and gasped, but her mind wasn't working well at all. Without much control on herself , she let her feelings take over and she stood on her toes to reach his lips and cover the gap between them.

He did not know she would do something like that all of a sudden, but given the situation, he surely was expecting it to happen.

He shut his eyes as he felt her lips move against his. It took him few seconds to let his guard down and let his heart decide what was to be done.

She inhaled rigorously when she felt him responding to the kiss. His grip around her waist tightened and he pulled her closer into his himself.

She wrapped her hands around his neck and deepened the kiss. She felt giddy with the rising heat within her. For some reason, his lips felt familiar, she knew she had kissed him before, but she couldn't remember.

He played with her lips as if they belonged to him, and suddenly felt a slight touch of her tongue in his mouth.

She wanted more. Subconsciously.

He gasped and let her enter his mouth, pushing her back against the wall next to the window, without leaving her lips for even a second.

She winced as she felt her back hit the wall and his strong chest pressed against her tiny physique.

He pulled her up a little by her waist so she could stand on his feet, making it easier for her to kiss him back.

He explored her mouth, sending shivers down her spine. She moaned and struggled to breath. He passionately delved into her mouth, making her dig her fingers in his hair and pull it gently.

He groaned and kissed her fervently, feeling her tiny fingers tugging on to his hair.

She felt his hands kneading the soft skin on her waist.

Her hands instinctively grabbed the colar of his coat and with a little effort, she pushed it back. He made a slight movement of his arms to let the coat slip off his body and fall on the ground.

He gave her little time to catch her breath before cupping her face and kissing her back.

She slid her hand to his waist and clenched his sweater. She felt her toes curl with each movement of his tongue in her mouth.

He slipped his hand in her soft hair and opened the loose bun she had, letting her hair flow open.

He carressed her neck as he kissed her more.

After a while, he stopped and looked at her, his face was crimson red with the rush of blood and lips slightly swollen.

Both of them struggled to breathe as he spoke.

"Tak Dong Kyung.. " he panted.

She gasped and felt nervous with the way he took her name. His eyes were filled with passion.

"I don't remember why.. I don't remember how and I don't remember since when.. but.. I love you..."

She smiled a little and a tear rolled down her cheek.

"I feel I Love you too.. Kim Saram" she whispered, before kissing him back.

A/N : Thank you so much reading! This is my first work on the doom couple! :) Sorry if there were any mistakes :( Please leave your reaction here :) I will write more if you all liked it <3 

[daydreamingintheimpalax]

The Frat house

Prompt: “isn’t is fascinating? you don't even have to open your mouth to make my head hurt.” 

Dean X reader ( Dean is 20, Reader and Sam are 16).

Warnings: Um, none? I don't think.

Dean Winchester was a royal pain in your ass. His smart mouth and sassy one liners made you want to punch his pretty face in. Most of the time, you could avoid him, ignore him and just hang out with Sam who was much more chill and cool. You were thankful you only ever had to see the oldest Winchester once in a while when his father didn't need him on a hunt. 

Sadly, tonight wasn't one of those nights. Your father and John had gone off on a hunt with some other hunters, it was going to be a day or two and sadly, Dean hadn't tagged along with them, John and your father insisted he stay behind and keep you and Sam out of trouble. Little did they realize most of the time, Dean ended up being bigger trouble than either of you two. 

You heard the light knock on your bedroom door, you'd opted to stay in your room for most of the night, hoping they'd think you were on your period and leave you alone. You felt bad not hanging out with Sam, but you really didn't want to be annoyed by Dean. That boy could give you a brutal migraine in less than 10 minutes. 

You got up from your bed, abandoning your latest journal entry before opening the door. There stood Dean, a half smirk on his pretty face dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans. 

“Ugh, what do you want, Winchester?” you rolled your eyes, making your way back over to your bed.

“You should be nicer, y/n. Boys would like you better if you didn't have such a bad attitude.” He speaks, making you gag.

“Ah, yes, my mission in life, to please all the boys.” You mock him, rolling your eyes yet again before prying as to what the hell he wanted from you. 

“So? To what reason do I owe your presence?” you sass him and he smirks again. 

“Sammy and I are going to go have some fun, taking the kid to his first college party, you in?” He winks, your eyes wide as you squint at him. 

“Sam and I are 16, there's no way we can get in to a college party.” You shrug, shaking your head at his idiotic idea. He clicks his tongue and laughs.

“Who’s going to know? Sam will probably go unnoticed, and you can put on something skimpy, do your makeup and you pass for 18 tops, ain't no one going to question you.” He eyes you up and down and you punch his arm. 

“Owww, what the hell!” He shouts, rubbing his arm. “That’s for being a pervert, and no, I'm not going to whore myself out just to go to some college party with you, besides, our dads told us to stay put, I ain't about to break the rules, your dad will kill you if he finds out.” You raise an eyebrow, making your way over to your bed. 

“He won't if he doesn't know about it, we'll be back way before they will, and I never said whore yourself out, though, I'm sure a night of fooling around with some guy would adjust that stick up your ass. We're going, come, stay, I don't care but you got 15 minutes to decide or we're leaving.” He states, winking at you before shutting the door behind him. 

You hated Dean Winchester. Well, maybe hate was a strong word, you really heavily disliked him. He was a constant pain in your ass, a headache that seemed to never go away. However, you wondered if maybe he was right. You had only ever had sex with your ex, and that had ended last year, you could use a night out, and a hot college guy could possibly just be what you needed and just like Dean said, no one would know you weren't 18. 

You sighed, not believing the idiot outside had actually convinced you this was a good idea. Taking his advice, you got dressed in your “sexiest” dress, a simple black one that always enhanced your curves and paired it with your favorite red pumps, you put some effort into your makeup, a dark Smokey eye and a bold red lip, your winged liner perfected after years of practice. Dean was right, at this rate, no one would question your age. 

You met the boys by the front door, Dean throwing on his dad's old leather jacket that was twice his size as he headed over towards you, maybe one day he'd grow into the coat. 

Sam's cheeks turned a shade of red as he complimented your look. You smiled politely as you thanked him. Sam was always the more gentlemanly of the two. When Dean finally noticed you, he smirked, letting out a wolf whistle as he passed you towards the impala.

“You clean up nice y/n, if you weren't practically my little sister I'd take you home myself.” He chuckles, smacking your ass as he passes you. You let out a squeal and it makes him chuckle before you let out an annoyed groan. 

“You’re such a pig, as if I'd ever go to bed with you, who know's what you've contracted.” Once again rolling your eyes at him in distaste. “You roll your eyes a lot y/n, one day you're going to get stuck like that, also, I'm not stupid, I use condoms and always get tested.” Dean smirks, biting his lower lip before throwing himself into the drivers seat, unknowingly to him just how much he affects you. Maybe that's why you tried to hate him so bad, you refused to admit the older Winchester got to you, making you flushed most of the time you spent around him. 

“And you talk too much Winchester, I mean seriously, do you ever stop talking.” You sass, throwing him a fake smile. He winks in return, “Only when I'm using my mouth for other things.” He stares back at you from the rear view, making a motion with his hand and tongue to signify what he means. 

“Can you two stop, this whole conversation is becoming gross. Let's just go.” Sam pipes up, blushing more than he should. “Don't worry, Sammy. One day you'll learn, my little virgin brother.” Dean chuckles, ruffling Sam's hair. 

“I’m not a virgin, I just don't announce it to everyone so explicitly.” Sam grits, trying to avoid you hearing. “Yeah yeah, sure thing sammy.” Dean smirks and soon enough he's driving off. 

You'd been at this party for three hours and had yet to find a decent human to talk to. Sam had wandered off over an hour ago with a cute petite brunette who seemed very fond of him, you had a feeling she'd be dragged here too, and Dean, well, Dean was around flirting with every girl who would give him the time of day. His cheesy pick up lines failing most of the time, sometimes you wondered how in the hell Dean got as much action as he did, his lines were usually horrible. 

You took a sip of your beer, people watching as a bunch of jocks screamed and yelled, doing keg stands, a group of girls stood off to the sides, some of them eyeing the jocks and giggling to each other. 

“You look a little lonely.” A voice booms out over the music and you turn, coming face to face with a cute blonde haired guy, he's wearing a muscle shirt that's probably one size to big, a pair of Jean's that aren't baggy but not fitted either. He's got a beer in his hand and he's smiling softly at you.

“Just checking out the scene. This isn't a bad party.” You shrug, sipping from your red Solo cup. He chuckles. “Yeah, Rick always throws the best parties, everyone literally shows up. So how come your not with your friends? You go here right?” He asks making conversation, and your brain works overtime to come up with something. 

The conversation between you and what you now knew was the guy named Eric and that he was 18, had flowed nicely and before you knew it, you'd spent the last 20 minutes taking shots with him and now here you were, pressed up against the kitchen island as he kissed you, his lips soft and warm, he smelled like fireball but you didn't care, you just wanted to be kissed, having almost forgotten what it was like to make out with a cute guy. He pulls away, smiling at you, breathing heavily as he speaks. 

“I’ll be right back, gonna check if any rooms are clear.” He states before shooting you a wink, you pull some hair behind your ear and bite your bottom lip, smiling at him nervously, suddenly not sure you wanted to be here.

You turn around, ready to grab your solo cup and refresh yourself when you come face to face with Dean. He's on the other side of the island, leaning over on it with his elbows, drink in his hand and he's smirking at you, he raises and eyebrow and before he speaks, you groan. He shoots you a shrug.

“What? I didn't say anything.” He speaks up, smiling stupidly at you. 

“ Isn’t is fascinating? you don't even have to open your mouth to make my head hurt.” You spit out, already annoyed with him. He laughs. 

“You having fun?” he asks and he seems genuinely concerned. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am. Thanks, you were right I needed this.” You give him a soft smile before you start to bite your lip, eyebrows furrowing. 

Dean watches you carefully, noticing the mood change. “You okay?” he asks and you pipe back up, letting go of your lip as you shake yourself back to reality, “Yeah, yeah i’m good it's just uh....he asked me to go upstairs, he's older and I uh- um, you know what, nevermind.” You shake you head, taking a giant sip out of your cup. 

“Y/n, if you're not comfortable, say no. Point blank, and if tries anything else, call me. I'll deal with it. You don't have to have sex if you don't want to, okay?” He assures you, and you take a deep breath. 

“Yeah, I know, thanks Dean.” He shoots you a small nod, and it's the first time you've seen him have your back, full support with no judgement or jokes or inappropriate remarks. 

“I know, uh, I know I can be a dick sometimes and I annoy the hell out of you, but I need you to know when it comes down to it, I got your back, y/n. Always.” He smiles, you give him a small smile back, moving around the island to get closer to him, you lean up using your tip toes to get closer to his height, placing a small peck on his cheek. 

“Thanks Dean, You're not always so bad.” You smirk, before leaving him to his night, making your way over to the dancefloor. 

Dean watches you for a bit, smiling as he watches you laugh when that frat boy joins you, it was nice to see you having a good time and letting loose. He would never admit it, it wasn't like him to be so attracted to someone he'd known all his life or feel for someone so much, but you had always been different. 

He kept his distance for the most part, he wasn't stupid, you were 16, and it wouldn't be in his best interest or smart to make a move, plus John would kill him, you were still underage, but maybe eventually, when you turned 18, maybe he'd consider doing something about the dreams that woke him up every night sweaty and heated. 

One day, you'd see he wasn't as annoying as you thought. For tonight, he'd have to settle for watching you from afar, knowing damn well he’d be going home alone yet again. 

[0creative-name0]

Hiyoko Saionji, The Ultimate Traditional Dancer. Although she was the best at what she did, and looked absolutely amazing whilst she did it, she couldn't do it herself you know. As we humans are, we often need help with a lot of things, and Hiyoko was no different.

Hiyoko always had trouble putting her kimono on, and would often leave it on for as long as possible to avoid having to take it off and struggle to put it back on again, until Mahiru came around.

Mahiru Koizumi was a kind soul, some might even say an angel. When she heard about how Hiyoko had trouble with her kimono, Mahiru was quick to offer her services.

So from then on, Mahiru would help Hiyoko whenever she needed it, and thus caused them to become quite good friends, one of the only ones Hiyoko had. She, as you might know, had a tendency to be rude and snobby to others, so it was a little hard for her to make friends.

With that being said, let's set the scene.

It was the night before Hiyoko had a performance. Mahiru decided that Hiyoko should have a bath beforehand so that she didn't waft around an odor when she danced. Although Hiyoko was a little hesitant at first, Mahiru managed to persuade the little dancer to clean herself up.

Since Mahiru knew she couldn't always help Hiyoko with her kimono, they had a little agreement that everytime Hiyoko would have a bath, Mahiru would help her practice putting on her kimono. Hiyoko had been making progress with this, and was almost able to do the whole thing by herself, but very slowly, and not very efficiently, and also with a little help from Mahiru.

As Hiyoko came out from her bath in her undergarments, ready for her little lesson, Mahiru handed the kimono to the small girl and she got to work.

"Mahiru, can you hold this here?" Hiyoko asked as she signaled to a spot on her side.

"You mean this?" Mahiru responded, accidentally poking the spot where Hiyoko had shown her.

This caused Hiyoko to slightly squeal and quickly recoil, and almost mess up her progress on her kimono.

"H-hey!! Don't do that Mahiru!" Hiyoko shouted, trying to sound angry, but her voice was a little shaky and nervous since she let out such a ticklish reaction.

Mahiru had a slight grin on her face since she had already put two and two together, figuring out why Hiyoko had reacted the way she did.

"W-why are you smiling like that-?" Hiyoko asked, her voice now sounding a little more nervous.

Mahiru then quickly wiped the grin from her face. "It's nothing. Come back here and let's finish, you're almost don't anyway" She said, as if nothing had happened.

Hiyoko slowly went back over, and Mahiru held the part of the kimono that Hiyoko had asked her to earlier.

The dancer then finished doing her kimono and looked in the mirror. She saw it was a little sloppy and not as perfect as she had hoped.

"Hnnn, it's all sloppy and gross! It's all your fault Mahiru!" The small girl quickly shifted the blame, as she had a tendency of doing.

"It looks good to me, besides, it doesn't matter right now, you're still learning, so it's still gonna be sloppy from time to time" Mahiru reassured her.

"But I have that performance tomorrow! My kimono can't be sloppy!" Whined Hiyoko.

"Don't worry, I'm coming, so I'll be able to do it for you and you'll look stunning! I'll take pictures as well to show you afterwards" Mahiru said with her bright beautiful smile.

Hiyoko slightly grunted and pouted.

"Oh stop that. Now take it off and put your night clothes on, you've got to sleep now if u don't want to be tired tomorrow" Mahiru said as she placed her hands on her hips.

With another small whine, Hiyoko began undressing. She then began to slip on her night clothes, which consisted of a silky orange tank top and a matching set of shorts, perfect for the tropical air of Jabberwock Island.

Once Hiyoko finished changing and hopped onto her bed, Mahiru quickly pounced on her and pinned her to her bed.

"M-Mahiru!!! What do you think you're doing?!" Hiyoko shouted quickly, the sudden attack scaring her a little.

"Well, to be completely honest, when I accidentally tickled you earlier, I knew I just had to take advantage of it~" Mahiru said as she had a wide grin on her face. Her hand had made it's way down to Hiyoko's soft tummy while she spoke, and traced slow circles on it as she teased the little dancer.

"Nnng- Q-quit it Mahiru!! I'm n-gggh- not ticklish!!" Hiyoko fought back her urge to explode into flustered giggles, but her tummy was one of her most sensitive spots, along with her ribs and sides. Since these spots were always covered up, they weren't used to being touched, making them more sensitive.

"Somehow I just can't believe you~ you are grunting and stuttering quite a bit. Trying to hold back laughter I assume~?" Mahiru teased, knowing she could most likely embarrass Hiyoko, which she very much liked to do since she found it adorable.

Hiyoko's face turned a slight shade of pink, Mahiru's plan was working, and Hiyoko was getting embarrassed and flustered. She decided it was best not to say anything, since she knew if she opened her mouth a whole lot of giggles would spill out.

"Hmm, not gonna answer me? I'll get you to open that little mouth of yours~" Then, without warning, Mahiru quickly dug her fingers into Hiyoko's sensitive sides.

Hiyoko immediately shrieked and flinched greatly, but didn't go anywhere since Mahiru had her pinned. "KYAAAHAHAHA!!! M-MAHAHAHIRU STAHAHAP IHIHIT!!!" Hiyoko screamed. She couldn't help but scream and kick all over. Oh how she hated being tickled.

Tickling was the one thing where she couldn't talk or cry her way out of, she was completely helpless when it happened, especially on sensitive spots like the ones she had.

"Awwww~ you're soooo ticklish Hiyoko~! Why haven't I known about this before~?" Mahiru couldn't help but speak in a teasy voice when she questioned the helpless ultimate.

"I SAHAHAID STAHAHAHAP!!! LET ME GOHOHOHO!!!!" Hiyoko screamed at Mahiru as she desperately tugged and tried to escape this ticklish despair.

Mahiru giggled. She loved seeing Hiyoko laughing and smiling, and now she had the perfect way to see it whenever she wanted.

Mahiru then began to squeeze and poke at Hiyoko's sides, both of them. "Tickle tickle tickleeee~" She teased, trying to fluster Hiyoko and make her feel even more embarrassed.

"SHUHUHUHUHUT UHUHUP!!" Screamed Hiyoko as she began to lightly blush.

"Awww are you blushingggg~? You must love this~!!" Mahiru then began to knead Hiyoko's soft tummy as she hummed casually.

"AAAAAAAHAHAHA MAHAHAHIRUHUHU!!! DOHOHOHONT DOHOHO THAHAHAT!!" Hiyoko only blushed more from Mahiru's teases, and screamed as she tickled her soft, pale little tummy.

"My my, such a delicate little belly~ and yet, it looks sooo tasty~!" After saying that, Mahiru quickly placed a big raspberry right on Hiyoko's belly, causing her to scream bloody Mary as it happened

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!" Was what could be heard from Hiyoko's cottage.

Mahiru then quickly stopped as she heard Hiyoko scream so loudly. "Quiet down Hiyoko, the others are gonna think you're being killed!" She said as she covered Hiyoko's mouth.

Hiyoko panted heavily, tears of laughter streaming down her cheeks as she tried to catch her breath.

When no one came to check on Hiyoko, Mahiru then uncovered the little dancers mouth. She had caught her breath by now and was about to start cussing Mahiru out, but was quickly cut off by feeling Mahiru's nail tracing her belly button.

"Hehe, I thought for sure someone would come check on you after a scream like that~ but since they didn't, I can keep going for a bit longer now~" Mahiru said, that same grin appearing on her face.

Since Hiyoko was caught off guard from this, she wasn't able to hold back her giggles this time. "Stohohop ihihit Mahiru! I dohohont want anymohore! Plehehease!!!"

When Mahiru heard her say please she quickly stopped and couldn't believe what she just heard. "Did you just say please~?" She said as she stopped tracing.

Hiyoko nodded and looked away, catching her breath slightly once again once Mahiru stopped.

"You must not want this then huh?" And with that, Mahiru got off of her and layed down next to her.

Although Hiyoko absolutely hated being tickled, she found that it felt quite different when Mahiru did it, so when Mahiru layed next to her, she shyly grabbed her hand and placed it on her side, her cheeks growing red and hot as she did so.

Mahiru however, quickly smiled and pulled Hiyoko close to her, gently tracing small circles on the girls sides.

Hiyoko bit her lip and tried to keep her giggles in as Mahiru did this, and she gripped her wrist, but didn't try and stop her.

"It's a bit late now isn't it? You wouldn't mind if I stayed the night would you?" Mahiru asked the dancer.

"I don't mind, as long as you don't tickle torture me again" Hiyoko said as she then nuzzled into Mahiru and closed her eyes.

Mahiru chuckled and held Hiyoko close to her rubbing her head. "Thank you~" She whispered.

"Mhm. Thank- um- thank you.. Too-..." Hiyoko said softly and shyly.

"Your welcome~" Mahiru said back.

And with that, they both fell asleep in each other's arms, and would have many ticklish nights to come~

Thanks for reading if u read the whole thing, I know it was loNg. I just wanted to say that I'll be taking requests.

However, this is what I will and will not do when taking a request

I will not do bxb

I will do gxg

I will possibly do bxg

I will do Danganronpa and Genshin Impact fics

I won't do anything 18+ related

And that's all, thanks 😌

[night-unfurls-its-splendour]

I'm watching the entire series of Game of Thrones for the first time. I've made my way to season 3, making sure to watch as many commentaries as I can. Last night I listened  to the Set Design / Costume Design commentary for S3 Ep 4: "And Now His Watch is Ended".

I know most historical costume Enthusiasts / Critics either don't touch, or make exceptions for Fantasy productions and on the whole I agree with that. But something about the Game of Thrones costumes (and how the show's popularity has impacted costume design on productions actually set in the medieval / Renaissance time period) has just really been bothering me.

(Perhaps you see what I mean here with Contessina De Bardi in Medici: Master's of Florence and her sneaky mini structured neckline)

It may be a couple of things, but lots of the ... insights from Michele Clapton shed some light on this for me. I have a few questions.

First: North of the Wall, we spend some time in this episode with The Night's Watch at Craster's Keep. Of Craster's wives, Clapton said [Disclaimer this is not an *exact* quote because I couldn't find a transcript anywhere and my sister sent back the Netflix DVD and I do not have an idetic memory - but the important parts of the comment are, in my own estimation, accurate] : "With Craster's wives I got this idea of them just having bits of rabbit, whatever they can get, woven with grass..." this raises in my mind, SO many questions.

Firstly - we ARE north of the Wall, yes? Where,  as we have seen, the ground is just about ALWAYS covered in snow, or 90% mud. So where is the grass coming from? And also what they are wearing is so clearly not grass?

This also provides a segue into my second question.

Do sheep exist in Westeros?

Why is it that this show has such an aversion to wool? Every man wearing protective clothing is wearing Leather (or rather I should perhaps say "vegan leather"). Every Hearty Weave (TM) appears to be an attempt at Linen; and every Fine Lady is wearing Silk satin, or if you're Olenna, silk brocade (in obviously hot weather, because naturally elderly ladies benefit from heat stroke).

I've not seen one woollen cloak. Not. One wool... anything really. I ask myself "Why?"

100% natural wool is wondeful. It's naturally flame retardant; it keeps you warm; it breathes well; it's soft in a light weave; it's strong in a heavy one; its water repellent. So what is with this endemic erasure of wool? Even productions like 2018's Mary Queen of Scots have had costume designers like Alexandra Byrne who, when searching for a durable fabric for cold and rainy Scotland, came out with a wardrobe comprised entirely of DENIM. Which,  as we all know is the WARMEST AND MOST COMFORTABLE of fabrics when damp. Now we all know Byrne's real reason for using denim is because it's cheap. The problem is Byrne tried to justify it by saying all of that guff about wanting a fabric that wears well in rain (Which,  I cannot stress this enough- denim does not) and, of course because denim would be "ReLaTaBLe". But I digress.

All that aside, perhaps the things that bother me most are components and composition. Which is where we get into the wooly (heh) area of me being a person with interest in HISTORICAL costume, critiquing a FANTASY series.

So let's just get this out of the way: I'm not saying that anything that the costume Department did with this series was "Wrong" [with one exception, but we'll get to that when we get to it]. I'm just going to say that I don't like the way it was approached, and my reasons on WHY. 

I think I have a modicum of justification for my opinions here because, fantasy is fantasy, yes but the concepts of "Fantasy" and "Medieval" have become so strongly connected that the line between them has become so blurred in the modern mind as to be almost non-existent anymore. We're in a strange cycle here. "Fantasy" was directly inspired by Medieval and over the years took more and more creative wiggle room because, the great thing about fantasy is, you can make it whatever you want it to be aesthetically. But as Fantasy and Medieval have become so intertwined, more and more creative license has been taken with the latter, so that the original inspiration has become beholden to imitate the art it inspired.

But I'll save my pontification on the modern eye and Medieval fashion for another post, and try to keep on track only as far as this affects my feelings on Game of Thrones.

My justification is that GoT is not just inspired by Medieval England/Europe in the broad sense that most Fantasy of the Sword and Sorcery variety is; it was SPECIFICALLY inspired by ONE ERA of English History, The Wars of the Roses [15th century] (with character inspiration from other eras, as recent as the 16th century).

The thing about being interested in Historical Fashion is, once you know it, you can't UN-KNOW it. For example, my understanding of the medieval approach to clothing composition is "Cut as little as you need to because sewing is tedious". You don't want to have to sew more than you have to because what's the point of that? Practically no clothing in the medieval period was tailored because why bother doing that when you can just sinch it with a belt, or lace it up the sides? Is any of that applied here? Nah. Because when we look at Sansa's dresses, look at those obviously machine stitched, perfectly pristine seams. ~whistles~.

I'll never throw shade at a costume department for using sewing machines, but I will shade them for not bothering at all to make clothing for a universe that has no sewing machines look like it was made in a universe that has no sewing machines.

  I can agree with not holding Fantasy series to historical standards - to a point. To wit: as long as it's believable IN-UNIVERSE.

AS FAR AS WE KNOW, the GoT universe doesn't yet have Mechanized looms. Now I know that they make some pretty unreal lace in Myr, but I just can't think of any in-universe justification for the texture of Danny's blue number in season 3.

Another thing that bothers me is the proliferation of corsets and how those corsets are approached.

Here are some historical corset facts.

• the term 'corset' wasn't widely used to refer to structured undergarments outside of France until the late 18th century (1700's). Before tart they were called "stays" (16th-17th century) or "a pair of bodies" (15th-16th century)

• structured undergarments first appeared in the 15th century, as the bodice of under-dresses(kirtles) were lined with reed or Buckram to provide back and breast support and provide a smooth surface for the gown worn over it. It also provided a foundation for multiple layers of petticoats, so the waistbands wouldn't dig into your sides.

• Structured undergarments that existed independent of a kirtle or petticoat aren't in evidence until the 16th century (Elizabethan/Renaissance) and aren't widely used by all classes until the late 17th century.

• Most 16th-17th century boned foundation garments had straps, since they didn't reach down much farther than the natural waist,  unless they were designed with a high back.

• Corsets, stays and other structured undergarments were never worn without a shift/chemise/slip underneath because...

• Corsets chafe.

• Corsets are difficult to clean, but shifts are easy to launder. Shifts protect your skin from chafing and protect your very expensive corset from the oils produced by your skin

(Reproduction example of 15th century style kirtle, from Prior Attire. Source video here)

(Sansa's... corset here has this bizarre low back and 18th century style tabs on the bottom? It also seems to lace only down to her navel. Not quite sure what's going on here, it really doesn't seem to be supporting her at all.)

The reason I hate, hate, hate the way Sansa is costumed under her...  very suit-like gowns is  because she never ever is shown (so far) wearing anything under her corset; her gowns are all long-lined, flowing and loose fitting; and show only wears (usually) one petticoat under them. So in short, I dislike that Sansa wears a corset because Sansa has NO REASON to be wearing one.

◇◇◇◇Another Thing◇◇◇◇

I want to spotlight on a little thing from the commentary that really hits on one of my larger problems with the aesthetic interpretation of this show in general.

During one of the scenes with Stannis and Melisandre, Clapton mentions that they made Melisandre's hair a darker shade of red in season 3 than it was previously. She says the phrase "sort of makes her more earthy".

Yes. Let's make the FIRE priestess more EARTHY. LET'S JUST DO THAT. AS OF THIS SHOW ISN'T "EARTHY" enough.

There's this fantastic quote I read somewhere by GRRM about how he loves fantasy because it's colorful, where real life is gray and brown and olive and dull. Melisandre is arguably the most colourful character in the show/series. In the books, EVERYTHING about her is Red. And not just red. She's scarlet and crimson. When she's introduced there's this fantastic description of her wearing flowing robes of scarlet silk with slashes in it revealing a darker, blood red fabric underneath.

That was passed up for a monotone, very simply cut red gown and I can't stop asking myself why a designer would scrap something like that without even trying to pay homage to it.

This show just sort of takes everything colourful in Martin's world and MAKES it gray and dark for the sake of Gritty Realism (TM). I suppose that's part of trying to appeal to a wider audience, but I just find it increadibly visually uninteresting.

◇◇◇◇ONE MORE LITTLE THING◇◇◇◇

Is this the sofa from the Study in Clue?

???

[cinnbar-bun]

Hello! may i request a scenerio where the reader/ gbf main character (djeeta) trying to comforts sandalphon when he's having a nightmare? or just simply trying to distracts him from the pain that he's holding in his heart. I understand if you don't take requests atm! Thank you in advance, i really love your writing and ideas : >

A/n: AWWW my glob ya’ll are too nice!! I’m taking requests at the moment, so don’t worry dear! I only have like two others after this one sooo??? Anyways, I hope you like this, but I decided to add a li’l somethin to this

Elysian! Reader and Sandalphon with a Nightmare

Warning: MAY CONTAIN SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR WMTSB2 IN LIKE THE FIRST COUPLE SENTENCES!!

Every night it’s the same damn thing. 

Why can’t I move? Why does it keep making me re-live that awful moment. 

He can’t stop it, no matter how many times he tries. That horrid nightmare of Lucifer’s demise, left with nothing but his head. The dreams kept getting progressively worse now, some with more added illusions, his screams, the laugh of that disgusting demon, the blood. It’s even more surreal than before.

It’s hard to sleep, so he just won’t anymore. The bags under his eyes have gotten worse and he’s much more irritable than usual. He snaps at everyone and just looks like a mess. It hurts your heart to see him in such a state, so you try to reach out to him. 

He rejects you of course. He doesn’t need help, he doesn’t want anyone. You know he’s lying. He just lost a good friend, possibly the only friend he’s ever had. 

After his third cup of coffee in the last hour, Sandalphon was feeling a bit jittery. His heart was beating so rapidly, and it felt like he’s having a heart attack. Why was he feeling so anxious? He clenched his fingers tightly and tried to slow down his breathing, making him panic even more. It felt like dying. Please make it stop, he begged silently. 

He slowly walked to his room and slammed the door shut, leaning against the frame of the door in a panic. 

What’s going on? Why is this happening? 

He doesn’t know why any of this is. When was the last time he even slept? It must’ve been far too long since he last closed his eyes. All he sees are his worst memories. 

You saw him run away from the deck in a hurry. You bit your lip and soon followed him, intent on trying to help him. He shut the door to his room and you waited for a moment. Should you do it? Or should you give him space? 

No, this isn’t healthy. He keeps running instead of letting in those who care about him. You lightly tap the door. 

“Sandalphon? Sandalphon…please open the door.” You meekly suggest. 

“Go away, (Y/n).” He sounds annoyed. 

“Sandalphon plea-”

“Leave me alone.” He cuts you off, almost sounding defeated. You sigh and walk away, thinking giving him some time will clear his mind. 

He cursed himself. One of the few people that actually cared about him, and he turned them away. He really was no good, he couldn’t seem to do anything right. 

The moon begins to rise in the sky, a pale white surrounded by sparkling stars. He couldn’t enjoy the pretty scene for what it was, only getting reminded of the nightmares once again. He picks himself up and shivers as he goes to make a fresh pot of coffee. Another all-nighter. 

“Sandalphon.” A quiet voice breaks the silence and he quickly turns around. 

“Ah, (Y/n). What are you doing up so late?” He asks plainly, as if everything had been going normally. That sad look on your face, he hates it. He hates making you so upset, especially with his own selfish problems. 

“I could say the same for you. When did you last get sleep?” You asked, the worry in your voice evident. He doesn’t respond before he sighs. 

“I can’t remember…” he trails off. He feels something on his cheek, and he gasps in surprise. You look so upset and scared for his well-being, the hand upon his cheek quivering and your eyes looking glossy. 

“Why do make yourself suffer so much? Don’t you know we care for you? We love you, and we hate to see you this way.” Your voice was cracking, and he felt so guilty for making you feel this awful. He placed a hand on top of yours and bit his lip. 

“You’re one of the only ones, (Y/n). Why do you care so much about me? I’ve only hurt you since I met you, yet still, you shed tears over me…” 

“Because you-” You cut yourself off before you revealed something so personal. “Because you’re important to me. I care about you, so please, let me take care of you.” You whimpered. 

“Your fingers are delicate.” He murmurs. Just like that time. It made him remember the pain he caused you during your first meeting. Feeling your kindness and warmth felt…wrong. He didn’t deserve it. 

“Here. Follow me.” You softly demand, and grip his hands as you drag him to your room. He is very confused, why are you taking him here? He wants to protest, but he just can’t find the words. 

“I know you’ve had trouble sleeping, so here, lay down.” You swung open the door and pointed at your bed. 

“What are you-” You place a finger on his lips and shake your head. 

“Just listen to me.” He sighed but obliged, walking onto your bed and throwing himself on top. It smelled like you, and it made him feel safer as he sunk into the mattress. He heard you shuffle around your room and drag something large. He looked up and saw you carrying a big harp. 

That’s right…you played the harp.

“I’m not a child you know. I don’t wanna bother you anymore so you can just leave me-”

You plucked a string and a wonderful sound came from it. He was curious to see where it would go so he rested his head back on your pillows. You smiled at him relaxing, so you focused your attention back on the harp. 

Your fingers ran across the strings of the harp, strumming a tune that was euphoric to him. He didn’t know how to describe the sound, just peaceful, loving, comforting. He thought of it as you in song form. He let his body relax and all felt calm. 

No more nightmares, no more guilt, just you, him, and the music. Your beautiful voice began humming and singing, a sound prettier than a songbird’s. He wished to be wrapped up in this pleasure for eternity, then a thought formed in his mind. 

“Stop.” He held a shaky hand and you gasped. 

“Did you not like it?” You felt embarrassed that he stopped you, cursing yourself for ever thinking this stupid idea would work. 

“No…I…I want you.” He whispered, so low you almost didn’t hear him. “Please… I need you.” He begged. Your face flushed red as you walked over and he instantly engulfed you in a hug. “I don’t deserve this. I want you. I just want you to stay with me.” 

“Sandalphon, you know I’ll always stay with you.” 

“No, you don’t understand. I want to be by your side. I want to wake up to you instead of those grisly nightmare. I want to hear your voice instead of the loud screaming. I…I want you to love me…” He placed a hand on your cheek, his red eyes boring into you. He looked so afraid, so scared that you’d reject him and leave him alone. 

“You love me? I…Sandalphon, I love you too. Nothing can keep me away from you.” You smiled softly at him, your eyes filling up with tears of joy as your cheeks were a shade of baby pink. He smiled back, stroking your hair delicately, as if you’d break in one wrong move. 

“Can you sing to me again?” He asked, and you instantly nodded. You sat upright and his arms wrapped around your waist to keep you close. You sang a sweet lullaby as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

His eyes fluttered shut as a loud, content sigh left his lips. He snored softly, a small smile on his face as you stopped. You lied down next to him and kissed his forehead gently. 

“Sweet dreams, Sandalphon.” you murmured, snuggling into his warmth. 

That night, there was no horrific scene waiting for him. There was no darkness anywhere, instead, bright scenery in many colors and sounds surrounded him. There you were, harp in hand, strumming merrily amongst the pretty flowers that covered the ground. He chuckled before walking over to you, for once enjoying the sensation of dreaming.

[askthiscpblog]

I kinda ship Toby and Imani... can I request them meeting? You don't have to if you want of course!

One, two, three, pause. One, two, three, pause. The sound of her heels clicking against the concrete sounded through the air as she walked to a house at the end of the street. It was rather large, a reflection of the wealth of the person who owned it. She was once again, dressed to make any man or woman faint at the sight of her. A tight dark blue dress clung to her figure, stopping above her knees and a smirk was on her face. For once, it wasn’t hidden under her mask. Despite this being a suburban neighborhood, the woman had many weapons, armed to the teeth- literally. With a razor blade hidden under her tongue, anyone who decided to step to her would regret it. Did she need all the weapons strapped to her body? No. The throwing knife hidden in her cleavage would be enough for her to finish the job. Along with her physical strength. She approached the pristine white door, intending to knock on it. She was hoping to be greeted with the man she was intending to fuck and then kill brutally and without mercy. Instead, she was greeted with a weird feeling tingling in her stomach and her fist stopped two centimeters from the wood. She knew this feeling well, she had to have it on growing up where she did. She reached to her hip, where her purse had settled itself and retrieved her mask. Strapping it to her face, preparing for any situation, she readied herself. Then, she twisted the brass door handle, and to her surprise, it opened as she took one hesitant step into the doorway.

The fucker she is going to see has gotten on Slender’s last nerve over the last month or two. He kept trying to move in on his territory, and repeated warnings were being sent to him about doing such a thing. He didn’t listen when two of his thugs showed up dead. He didn’t listen when his right-hand man’s hand was hanging above his door frame. He didn’t listen when one of this drug houses went up ablaze when the cops showed up. Now, he was going to listen. If he wanted to or not was a different story.  Toby already staked out the house hours before this kill. He had a wife, kids, and both of them had no idea what he did as a side job. They will find out after all the dirty laundry would be aired. It was a dark night, moonlight through the shaded trees as Toby pulled sneaked his way into the large house. The wife and kid were out doing something while he stayed home tending to his failing business. Coming up behind him was easy, and the hatchet to the back of the skull was the most amusing sound Toby heard all night. A simple thwack than a thump of his head hitting the table. Not satisfied with the kill, he mutilated the corpse. One arm going flying one way, a foot another, his head the centerpiece of the display on his desk. The room smelled of the men emptied bowls with a metallic twist to it. 

“Teaches you r-right to fucking mess with u-us.” Toby mumbled, skinning one of guys legs.

Imani didn’t bother to hide the clicking of her heels as she entered the house if there was an intruder, they weren’t the one to fear. Her ears picked up on a noise coming from her targets office, and she turned in that direction, her long legs carrying her there. One, two, three, pause. No more, no less. She saw that the door was ajar and she approached it, grimacing at the smell that came out. With her line of work, it was normal but it coming up before she had expected it to? That was unpleasant.  As she grew closer to the door she took a deep breath and then paused, nudging it open and her eye widened in surprise, delight, and shock at the scene before her.

Toby could hear the heels clicking in the house as someone came in. He stood up with a jerk and moved behind the door, hatchets in his hands. His breathing was shallow until they came to the door, then he held his breath. He didn’t want to fight, he wanted to come in, get the job done, and get out. So avoiding this conflict would be the best.

The woman entered the room, noting the blood and gore splattered about and stepped in all the way. Her heels were instantly bloodied and she grunted in disdain. She walked over to the table, stepping over limbs and puddles of blood and picked up the severed head by its short hair. She clicked her tongue at it, faking a pout behind her mask. 

“Now, now, who cut your head off before I could Robert? I thought we had a date.” She twirled a lock of the decapitated man’s hair around her finger, letting out a dark chuckle and not bothering to turn around. 

“Now, I suppose you’re the one responsible for killing my dear Robert, here? I must say, nice work. Although I was looking forward to riding him and then watching the light fade from his eyes as I slit his throat, I suppose this is almost as satisfying.” She set the head down and hit it with the back of her hand and watched it roll off the desk and hit the floor with a dull thump. She still didn’t turn around as she spoke once more. 

“Who are you?”

Toby lets out the breath that he was holding and gives a long sigh of annoyance. This was not going as planned, and he hated it. It angered him. With a roll of his eyes, he took a few steps out from behind the door, his weapons still down at his sides. His body was tense as he circled round to have his back to the open door to the rest of the house.    

“I might be,” he responded short. He wasn’t much of a talker. "Just a p-person who had a little bit of business with the guy. And what of you? What business did-d you have with him to have the need to black widow him?“

She shrugged, finally turning around to face him. 

"It woulda paid well. Lots of people seemed to have wanted him dead so I might as well have a little fun before I kill him.” She assessed the situation in front of her. She was in a room with the dismembered body of her would-be victim and she wasn’t the one who had dismembered him. The man who dismembered him was standing opposite to her, and there was a severed human hand touching her favorite heel. Not only that but her high was running out and she’s disappointed with the way this day was going. She crossed her arms over her chest, her eye narrowing.  

“Am I going to be allowed to leave without a fight or what? I’m not trying to rip this dress.”

“I don’t see why n-not, but things can never be that e-easy now can they?” he says, moving to stand between the window and the door. It was to make sure he could lunge at her if she made a break for it.   

“The fact you saw me in here and everything plants evidence a-against me. Which is never good.” He put the hatchet down onto one belt loop but kept the other in his hand. The woman in front of him was still much smaller than himself, but he kept his eyes locked on her. He had the backup and a lot of extra things if need be, but he rather not pick the fight unless he has to.

She let out a quiet snort to herself at his last statement. She wanted to get out of here. Being this close to a male that was trapping her was making her antsy. She felt that little grip on her sanity loosens a bit, and as if by magic her high slammed into her again. Her pupil dilated irregularly with the changes in her body and her heart thundered as adrenaline flowed through her. She wasn’t planning on fighting him no matter how fun it seemed. But if he didn’t let her out she would chop him up as she did with her professor, and with his own fucking hatchets. She drummed her nails against the desk behind her rhythmically and she forced a bored look in her eye. Her accent slipped out thicker this time as she spoke, a product of her paranoia. 

“If I tell anyone about this little encounter, it’ll bring more attention to this,” she gestured around them with her hands to illustrate what she was talking about. And the fire in her eyes blazed brighter and brighter with each word she spoke, and her accent grew as strong as her mothers. 

“And that means fewer business offers I get. I think its best for both of us to just keep our mouths shut about this whole thing. You don’t tell anyone you saw me here, and I say I decided not to take dear Robert out after all and we both get out of this shithole and go our separate ways.”

Toby grinned under the mask and crossed his arms, the hatchet resting under it as it is crossed. He leaned back against the wall where he was standing between the door and the window. He listened to her talk, getting thicker and thicker as she spoke. It was actually kind of interesting to listen to something like that happen. She covered her accent well. Then she spoke about business offers. Was she an assassin of sorts?  

Slender might like to know about her, might find her useful. Toby thought, a shrug showing he agreed with himself.  

“Fair enough, b-but I do think that you said business offers. I think I know a person who might be interested in offering you m-more business.”

She raised an eyebrow under her mask before she narrowed her eye at him, trying to figure out what game he was playing. She wasn’t sure, but she did know that it was logically going to be the most interesting thing that happened to her today at least. Plus, more business couldn’t be a bad thing, right? Well, once again, using logic she knew that infinite things could go wrong, but she was too bored and high for that. She decided to cut right to the chase, she had a no-bullshit policy, especially when it came to how and when she was going to make money and feed the insatiable hunger for blood and sex inside of her. Usually, it involved multitasking and mashing all three together. She really didn’t give a fuck who this mystery person was or who they want to be killed. There’s one thing that she needed to know before she would consider working with this person. 

“How well does this person pay?”

Toby shrugged in response to her question, not sure how to answer it. Slender didn’t pay him, because of the fact that he lived for free with the guy. And two other assholes but that was beside the point. He watched her body, trying to read her movements. 

“I mean, he lets me live w-with him for free and other things. Probably pretty fucking well t-to someone who won’t be doing that. Other than t-that you have to take that up with him.” Toby responded, still leaning against the wall.She considered his words, twirling one of her coils around her finger as she thought. She sure as hell wasn’t going to live with this person, she already had a home and if she left it she knew how much backlash she would get from her friends. She noted how the man opposite of her seemed to be assessing her, but she didn’t take any offense to it because she was watching him too. She hadn’t lived this long without learning how to predict what someone was going to do based on their body language. He didn’t seem like he was going to do anything, and so she let herself lean against the desk, there wasn’t too much blood on that particular spot. She eyed him once more and then decided that he was fine to remove her mask around and did so, putting it back in the purse that was slung around her shoulder. She knew that it was psychological, but she felt like she could see better despite her other eye being gone for quite a while and she spoke to him this time without a barrier muffling her voice. 

“How do I find this man?”

Toby watched her lean into the desk, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The situation was tense, but everything else ever so careful started to defuse as time passed. Which is a good thing? He didn’t like being tense. It made all the disorders flair up which made it hard to keep calm and talk without stuttering too much. It took most of his willpower to do anything like that right now. 

“He is in the woods. If you go through an arch-chway that looks like a door, you can find where he l-lives. If you d-describe me then he will listen. S-shall I let him know that you want to meet up?” he asked. Toby felt as if he was bad at talking to others. He didn’t like it, not one bit. But he saw another potential ally in this woman. At least, one that Slender might like. And getting brownie points with his boss is always a good thing.

Imani looked up at him, the hair that was blocking the scarred side of her face from his view falling out of the way and she started giggling, covering her mouth. She hunched over, starting to giggle more. 

“An archway in the woods!? Fuckin’ wack! Gods, that sounds like a spot where drug deals go down. But yeah, tell him I want to meet. I’m always up for more business partners.” She knew that he could see her whole face now and it made her a little uneasy, but she shook it off and gestured towards the door. “If I go to leave, you promise you won’t slice my head off with those hatchets of yours? I got places to be and people to fuck.”

Toby watched her laugh, anger swelling inside of him. Oh if she only knew the trouble she could be getting into. The things that lurk in the shadows. The supernatural is out there, watching and waiting.   

“Yes, it does but it is t-true. I’ll let him k-know.” He moves aside, away from the door but still facing her.  He continued, “If you don’t talk about this until you come visit-t, then we have no issues.” Toby even put his other hatchet on his belt loop to prove his point. He didn’t want to meet up with her again, but this was a deal. And deals always ended in Slender’s favor.

[artificialqueens]

They Don't Love You Like I Love You 3/? (katlaska) - kamylove

AN - New chapters are always uploaded to AO3 sooner than they are here, if you want to read ahead. On AO3 it’s up to chapter 10.

“There is absolutely no factual or metaphorical fucking going on.” Not yet, anyway. Or, Katya and Alaska take the slow train.

They text a lot over the next few weeks, facetime a couple times, even manage to meet for a quick lunch when their schedules coincide for one day in LA. Then Alaska’s off to Brazil, and Katya’s off to Miami. Then there’s Mexico City, and San Diego; and Tallahassee, and Nashville, and Atlanta.

Katya sends Alaska selfies in front of dumpsters, and long strings of emojis that probably make perfect sense to Katya.

Alaska sends pictures of every hotel room she stays in, PDFs of hideous crochet patterns she finds online, menus whenever she comes across a new vegetarian restaurant.

Katya texts things in Russian that Alaska has to look up on Google Translate, things like, “Ma'am, your car is fully automatic,” and “This box is full of squirrels, please exchange it immediately,” and “The darker the night, the brighter the stars,” which Alaska thinks is much less ridiculous and also vaguely familiar.

Alaska texts back, “I can see the sun, but even if I can’t see the sun, I know that it exists. And to know that the sun is there–that is living,” which, Katya thinks, is very much taken out of context, but perfect anyway.

Katya sends a wall of Cyrillic text that turns out to be an operator’s manual for a tractor from the 1940’s. Alaska retaliates with the longest, dullest article she can find on the chemical composition of various shades of house paint, google translated into Greek. She follows it up with every single vegetable, fruit, and livestock emoji on her phone.

There are traffic updates from whatever city they’re in and from cities they’ve never been to: Minsk, Cairo, Montevideo; Kyoto when they’re sharing sushi on facetime and Zurich when they’re sharing chocolate. There are video game sessions from across oceans. There are updates on their friends’ lives. <i>(“Not to be called gossip,” Alaska says.)</i> There are frantic text discussions about new songs to use on stage, facetimes about clothes and wigs and makeup, conversations after almost every show.

There’s brainstorming about new material, despair over politics and joy over good days and commiseration over bad ones. There are frank conversations about being sober in an industry that almost requires the opposite.

There are wakeup calls and reminder texts and inspiration when genius is on the tip of a tongue. Katya gets used to going to sleep with a smile on her face after phone conversations. Alaska gets used to finding dozens of increasingly silly texts sent while she was asleep.

There are words, and the words are endless.

<><><>

This, Alaska thinks, must just be what happens when you’re friends with Katya. It’ll be a long time before she starts to suspect otherwise.

<i>(“Hell, no,” Trixie will say. “If she texted me every other second I’d lose my entire damn mind.”)</i>

Through it all, Alaska’s careful to keep it off social media; she never mentions Katya on Instagram or Twitter, only likes a judicious number of her tweets, and she’s not sure why. But she figures out soon enough that Katya’s doing the same.

It’s delicate, Alaska thinks, whatever it is that they have. It’s too delicate to be exposed to the light.

<><><>

Katya sends entire scenes of Moliere in French; Alaska tells her to fuck off and texts the entire last act of Timon of Athens.

Alaska quotes The Boys in the Band; Katya quotes The Normal Heart.

Katya quotes Tennessee Williams; Alaska quotes Eugene O'Neill.

Alaska quotes Twelfth Night; Katya says that’s just too easy and quotes Tamburlaine the Great.

<><><>

“Trixie says you’re a positive influence on me,” Katya says one night on facetime.

Alaska is actually at home, for a whole 36 hours. She was re-packing until Katya called, and now she’s sprawled on her couch. She raises an eyebrow, because she suspects there’s a punchline coming. “Trixie said that?”

“Yes, because you’re keeping me out of her hair. Which she thanks you for, by the way.”

“My pleasure. I think,” Alaska says.

“Also,” Katya says, “she doesn’t know how crazy you are.”

“All part of my evil plan,” Alaska says. “Mwahahaha.”

“See?” Katya says. “Crazy.” She’s in Edmonton, finishing dinner and winding down after a show. She tilts her head thoughtfully. “You do have that miraculous gift for looking effortless and unbothered and unsweaty. Nobody has any idea what goes on in that pretty, horse shaped head.”

“That’s because I don’t tell them,” Alaska says. “Also part of my evil plan.

"Yes, because you, unlike me, have common sense,” Katya says. “But here’s the thing.”

“Yes, Katya, please tell me about the thing,” Alaska says, grinning.

Katya tosses a wadded-up napkin at her phone screen. “The thing is,” she says, “it’s a little known scientific fact that you and I have the exact same number of brain squirrels.”

This is not news to Alaska, and she doubts Katya’s just figured it out, either. “Please continue with your theory, Dr. Zamolodchikova,” Alaska says.

“See, they’re just different breeds of brain squirrel,” Katya says. “Mine are those New York squirrels that will steal a sandwich and your Honda, and yours are the cute, polite, red ones they have in England. Scientific fact!”

“Absolute scientific truth,” Alaska says.

“Also, you keep yours penned in the basement and trained to use kitty litter, while mine run loose and shit everywhere and attack passing motorists. Free range brain squirrels.”

“Free range, Honda driving brain squirrels,” Alaska says very seriously. “It all makes sense now.”

“Doesn’t it?”

<><><>

The second night they share a hotel room is an accident.

They haven’t seen each other in a while; Katya’s flight is late and she gets into town just in time for the show. Afterwards they start talking, and laughing, and Katya doesn’t even notice she’s following Alaska up to her room until they’ve already been there for twenty minutes.

It’s four in the morning and Alaska shrugs and says, “My flight’s at eight, you might as well stay. You want half of this sandwich?”

Katya says yes, and they still have so much to say that she doesn’t even think about leaving.

<><><>

After that, it’s weeks before they’re in the same place at the same time, and that place is Key West, the weekend of the Great Conch Republic Drag Race.

They’re not judging this time, just performing down the street with a few other girls. The organizers invite them all to attend in drag, but Katya says, “It’s their day,” and Alaska says, “Not ours.” So they go as boys, wearing baseball caps and the most cis straight t-shirts they can buy for each other.

<i>(Katya’s t-shirt says “God’s gift to women;” Alaska’s says “No gay man would wear a shirt this ugly.” “Those are the straightest things you could find?” Roxxxy says.)</i>

They stay on the edge of the crowd, cheering gamely, speaking sotto voce when they need to speak. In Key West, gay famous is bigger than regular famous, but they’re only recognized once.

After their show is over, they slip out to the beach with their makeup still on and write Alaska catchphrases in the sand, by the light of Katya’s phone.

<><><>

<b>Text from Katya:</b> starfish

<b>Text from Alaska:</b> long division

<b>Alaska:</b> amoeba

<b>Katya:</b> shovel

<b>Alaska:</b> rogue

<b>Katya:</b> chickens

<b>Katya:</b> eclipse

<b>Alaska:</b> chickens

<b>Katya:</b> No. There are rules.

<><><>

Katya sends mp3s of lip sync songs she knows Alaska hates; Alaska sends mp3s of the two lip syncs she won against Katya.

“Fuck you and your lip sync licking ways,” Katya texts. “I’m not talking to you for at least 10 minutes.”

So Alaska sends “Roar” and “Step It Up,” too, and Katya ups it to twenty minutes.

She only makes it to fifteen.

<><><>

“Tell me another ghost story,” Alaska says over over, late at night, on facetime. She likes the way Katya’s eyes light up when she asks.

<><><>

“You up?” Katya’s text says. “Can I call?”

Alaska’s had her phone set to accept all calls from Katya at all hours for weeks, and she’s pretty sure Katya knows that. “Of course you can,” she texts back. “You don’t have to ask.”

The phone rings almost immediately.

“Hey,” Alaska says. “You okay?”

She can hear Katya sucking on a cigarette. “Squirrels, treadmill, brain,” Katya says.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Alaska says, her heart racing with scary what ifs. “Do you want to use?”

“A little. But I’m not going to. It’s the effect, not the cause.”

“Okay, that’s good. Do you,” and she’s not sure where to go, so she asks. “I don’t know what works for you. Should I try to distract you, or do you want to tell me about the squirrels?”

“Just talk,” Katya says on an exhale. “You. Just talk.”

So Alaska does, for hours. She thinks about what she wants to hear, on days when the anxiety takes over. She tells Katya about her day, about the books she’s been reading, about the weather, about every single thing in her luggage on this trip. She tells her the dumbest jokes she knows. She recites scenes from Golden Girls and the words to songs she knows Katya hates.

At some point, Katya starts interjecting dumb jokes of her own. And then the jokes get better, which is when Alaska starts to think it might be okay.

Before she knows it, the sun is coming up between the curtains she never pulled the night before, and Katya is yawning.

“Do you think you can sleep now?” Alaska asks quietly. Her heart feels very full.

“I think so,” Katya says.

“Then sleep. I’m here. Call me if you need me.”

Alaska thinks she hears “I always need you,” muttered under Katya’s breath, but she’s probably imagining it.

“I wish I was there,” Alaska says. She hears a long sigh in response.

“Me too,” Katya says.

“Do you want me to stay on the phone until you drift off?” Alaska asks.

Katya makes a low noise in the back of her throat. “That would be lovely.”

“Sleep,” Alaska says, and it’s not long before she hears Katya’s breaths start to slow and even out. Still, she waits another ten minutes before whispering, “Katya?”

When she gets no answer, she sighs in relief. But she turns off the microphone on her phone and leaves the call connected, for a long, long time.