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nuagederose · 30 days

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Dark Roots of Earth | Chapter Eleven: Where the Twain Shall Meet

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Christine found herself in what appeared to be the backseat of a car somewhere, albeit underneath what appeared to be a tree somewhere. Despite the darkness outside, she could make out the shape of the silhouettes of the branches above the sunroof. Stars dotted the sky like the holes in a pitch-dark ceiling.

She caught the unmistakable smell of firewood burning outside, and her mind immediately jumped to the worst possible conclusion.

With a rub of her eyes, she sat upright in the backseat and peered out the window right across from her. She was met with nothing more than darkness; she shifted around for a better look out there to the campsite that awaited her. The dark figure before the roaring campfire sat upon the flat surface of a log with something long and thin. She recognized the head of long shaggy hair down past the shoulders, but it was hard for her to tell if it was jet-black or a mere dark chocolate color. The figure lightly strummed at the thing on its lap, and it took her a moment to realize that it was a guitar.

“Chris?” Her voice echoed over the top of the car door as well as the dark ground out there. The figure shifted around on the surface of the log as if to see her. She spotted the bulbous tip of the nose as well as the full lips and prominent brow, the latter of accentuated by wire-framed glasses.

“Alex?”

The light of the flames washed over the side of his face, which in turn accentuated the full shape as well as the soft texture of his skin. Highlights danced about his gray streak to make it resemble to a plume of smoke and some little flames as well. The rim of his glasses shimmered under the light of fire; through the veil of the darkness, she recognized those eyes in all of their bright glory like the ocean upon a sunny day.

“I was wondering when you’d wake up,” he confessed to her, and he shifted to the side a bit and patted his hand on the flat surface of the log right next to him to coax her closer. His voice was low and smooth, like that of molasses; Christine opened the door and climbed out of the backseat. She ambled on over to him with the darkness at her back and all around her: nothing more than a clear path before her as she reached the edge of the clearing, and she could feel the heat from the fire right there, even at Alex’s side.

“Have a seat,” he beckoned her, and he shifted his weight to the side: Christine eyed the guitar, with its heavy dark mahogany body and pristine strings that shimmered in the flames, perched upon his lap, and she took her seat there next to him. She shivered as she looked in past the flames and into the darkness: she recognized the smooth glassy waters of the vast alpine lake.

She didn’t recognize the area but she knew where they had wound up in, however.

“It’s not often I get to play the blues for a girl right under the stars,” he said as he lightly strummed the metallic strings of the guitar with the edge of the pick as well as the pad of his index finger. He shifted his weight and extended his leg out before him as if to take in some warmth from the flames before him.

Christine shivered as she huddled closer to him and the warmth and safety of his body. She never believed that she could feel a sense of home with a human being, but she did right then and there with Alex. Even outside under the stars and by the edge of the lake, he was warm and soft, the way a home should feel.

“When did we even get up here?” she asked him in a broken voice.

“About two hours ago,” he replied as he tucked the pick inside the palm of his hand. “You were still sound asleep when I pulled in under the tree there. I didn’t want to wake you so I set up the tent solo.”

“Aw. You should’ve woken me, though. I would’ve helped you pitch it and everything.”

“You were pretty groggy, though,” he pointed out. “We left the house at such an early hour, so I let you sleep. I really didn’t wanna disturb you.”

A gentle breeze wafted up from the lake waters, which in turn sent a shiver down her spine, even in spite of the hot fire that burned before them. She thought about Chris and how he would have loved it up there with the two of them. Indeed, this reminded her of a time during one summer vacation in which she thought about inviting him out to the Poconos with her parents.

“I wish we had some marshmallows,” she confessed to him.

“We’ll go into town in the morning and fetch some,” he suggested, and then he turned his head for a better look at her. “Maybe we can get some chocolate bars and graham crackers, too?”

“Ooh, yeah! And some cocoa, maybe?”

“If you’d like,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “I decided I’m gonna start watching my weight, but… anything for my Strawberry Girl, though.” He gently kissed her on the forehead, and she curled her toes inside of her shoes at the feeling of his soft lips. She shivered again, that time from the feeling of another wisp of breeze over her.

“I am so cold,” she breathed to him.

“Really? Even with this hot fire burning before us?”

“I’m getting a bit of a breeze from the lake,” she explained. “Like every so often, a little gust will come up and sweep over me, and it’ll make me shiver down to my bones.”

“Here—” He set his guitar down next to him, and he stood up a bit, and she noticed the folded heavy blanket that was underneath him.

“Keeping it warm,” he explained, and he picked it up and unfurled it over her. Christine clutched onto the edges of the blanket so she was completely wrapped from head to toe. Indeed, he kept the blanket warm and it was very quickly growing warmer with the heat from the fire.

“Better?”

“Yeah, quite a bit,” she answered, and he inched even closer to her.

“I should be warm, too…” He cleared his throat and plunked his guitar back upon his lap. Christine gazed down at the strings and the way they seemed to glow from the light of the flames. For a second, she truly believed that she had returned home, away from the rest of the world and to the tender feeling that resided within his body. She slithered her arm out from under the blanket and under the body of the guitar to around his waist; he smiled at the feeling of her arm there.

“I just love when you hold me like that,” he confessed in that low breathy voice that she loved so much. It seemed a bit difficult for him to strum his guitar with her arm around his soft belly, but he also seemed more than happy to have her hold him so close.

“You really wanna watch your weight from here on out?” she asked him.

“May as well. I wanna be here with you forever.”

She gently kissed him on the side of the neck at the sound of that.

“Even though you look really sexy all chubby, I love you no matter how big you are,” she told him.

“I guess it’s a little better to be a bit chubby, anyway,” he pointed out with a wink. “Be a little chubby and indulge every now and again.”

“Help yourself to a s’more and a few little kisses…” She kissed him again on the neck, and that time, he momentarily stopped strumming.

“I should probably tell you that Nelly should be up here by the morning, too,” he added as he nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Nelly’s gonna be up here, really?”

“Yeah, she called—right when I was pitching the tent, too—she said she’ll take us out to breakfast tomorrow morning.”

“You oughta just eat everything in sight during breakfast,” she suggested. “You know, just be bit of a pig for breakfast so you don’t eat as much during the day.”

“Just fill up my belly to as full as I can make it with the works and then cuddle up next to you so you can feel me,” he joked.

“I just… love the thought of you with a full tummy,” she confessed.

“Best feeling in the world,” he said; through the dim light and the protective shade of his glasses, she noticed another fire as well, one that burned within those deep eyes. She licked her lips as she could feel what he was feeling right then as well.

Without even looking at his guitar, Alex moved his right hand onto the neck for a little picking action.

“Nice li’l solo there,” she remarked.

“I can do it in my sleep,” he boasted.

“Can you now?”

“I could curl up and go to sleep in the tent with this thing on my body and I can be strumming something up right from my dreamland,” he said.

“I think I could curl up and go to sleep in the tent laying on your body and I can be strumming something up right from the heart of my dreamland,” she retorted, to which he chuckled.

“Wanna go in the tent and have a little fun before we go to sleep?” he offered her with a sly smirk on his face and a twinkle in his eye, a twinkle despite the shadows over his face.

Christine cupped her hands around the full shape of his face and kissed him on those soft lips: it was interesting given she had the warmth of the fire on the right side of her face and the cool, wet feeling of the breeze from the lake and the forest on the left side, which in turn was paired with the warmth of his body and the cold feeling at her back. A dance of fire and water under the stars, a feeling that she could never seem to find back in the city, or even in California when she was with Eric.

She was reluctant to release him, and when she did, Alex held still and shuddered a bit.

“God, you’re such a good kisser,” he whispered.

“Let’s go,” she whispered back to him, right as the fire let out a loud crack!, which shook them both. Christine gasped, while Alex hesitated for a moment, and then he burst out laughing. She silenced his laughter with yet another gentle kiss on the lips. He let his glasses slide down his nose a bit so she could see into his eyes, now hooded and darkened with a feeling that she wanted to know about once they were in the safety of the tent.

He scooped up his guitar while she kept the blanket wrapped around her body so she could remain warm on the walk over to the tent. He had pitched it up right behind a tree trunk and a ways away from the fire and the lake’s edge: they would be protected once the wind picked up some more over the course of the night.

He tucked his guitar in the far corner of the tent so it would be away from the door, and she lay down on the soft rollout mattress, still with the blanket wrapped around her, even with the sleeping bag there. By the light of the fire still out there, she watched him take off his shoes followed by his shirt. His skin was smooth and milky, kissed by that olive Levantine tone; the sprigs of hair on his chest were rich and dark, and she reached up to run her fingers through them.

“Hang on…” Alex slid his legs under the thick sleeping bag and he inched closer to her; it was a struggle for Christine to be under her own given the blanket but she somehow did it. Even in separate sleeping bags, she managed to be close to him, to touch him and feel him without any prying eyes or interruptions until the next morning when Nelly would show up.

“I’m in love with you.”

She swore that she had imagined herself saying that, and she had no idea if the words came from his cherry lips or from her own. But she heard the words anyway, and they echoed through her mind as if she wandered through the catacombs under the city in search of the one she loved.

“I’m in love with you.”

The second iteration jarred Christine awake, and that time she found herself back in her bed and her apartment: the morning sun filtered through the shades, and she only had one thing on her mind.

She hadn’t had a dream like that in a long time, either.

“Take me home,” she whispered to herself, and the sound of Eric and Chuck giggling amongst themselves in the next room was everything she needed to know about the day ahead of her.

She had to see Alex that day, and she hoped that he would keep his promise.

#dark roots of earth #dark roots of earth fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #as the seasons grey #as the seasons grey fanfic #chapter 11 #alex skolnick #testament #testament band #testament fanfic #oc art #traditional art #fanfic with art #artists on tumblr #badgalnirvhannahart #Spotify

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feverinfeveroutfic · 6 days

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”deer in the headlights”

The whole entire thing with the werewolves left me far more shook than anything that the vampires had done before Abby and me. And I knew that it mainly had to do with the fact that my little encounter with Alex in the graveyard was as short as it was. Short and sweet and yet incredibly worth it. I felt like a changed woman.

But I knew those wolves were still out there somewhere, ready to take him out and take him under.

We were bribed and thus, I knew that it could no longer work for them. That was my hope, anyway. But they could plan it out, which meant I had to think ahead.

I knew for a fact that I could lose my vampire boyfriend come the morning light, and so, I had to act.

I knew that there had to be something special that I could do for him the next time I saw him, something that I could wear even though most of my wardrobe was nothing to write home about.

I had some money in my pocket for at the very least a new shirt, but I had the idea to go a step further with it.

There was a lingerie shop not too far from the house, and I could take the bus by myself right when it opened. It was such a crazy idea to begin with because I had never gone shopping for lingerie before and as a result, I had no idea as to what to look for. But I had climbed out of bed at around six, and I woke up to an empty house as Abby had spent the night with Mark.

Absolutely no one around to pester me with questions as I whipped up a pot of coffee and a plate of toast for myself. All the while, I wondered as to what I could browse around for once I set foot inside of that little shop. Something lacy and light, and maybe in either black or white to catch his attention from clear across the room. But I drew a blank after that as I stirred the cream into my coffee and took a bite of the toast with apricot jam.

The morning was cold and damp, complete with the thick veil of San Francisco fog collected around the hillsides and the spires of the Golden Gate Bridge off in the distance. I knew that it was cold enough to warrant wanting to snuggle up next to him in my brand new lingerie, and I chuckled to myself when I thought about doing just that after this little trip here.

It was a small place, tucked right next door to an adult bookstore and what appeared to be an old bank, shuttered down and left dark with the morning hours. The red and blue neon sign in the front window greeted me as I opened the glass door and stepped inside.

It felt like I had been hit with a tidal wave as I had been met with the sight of everything on display. Though it wasn’t very warm in there, my face flushed from the feeling and the sight before me.

Maybe I was overreacting.

I posted up to the side of the room and bowed my head a bit so I wouldn’t see anything in there. I breathed through my lips so as to steady myself. None of it could hurt me like how the werewolves could possibly do unto me.

I gathered myself and walked on to the racks right by the wall, to the rows of lacy bodysuits, teddies, corsets, and bras and panties: they were all black and white, just what I was looking for. My hand trembled as I picked out a lacy white corset.

I grimaced at the sight of it. No way I could pull that off at any time whatsoever, and even more so as I held it before me and pictured myself in it.

I needed a new bra, but not like that and not at that price, either. And I thought about something sheer and lacy, so I immediately ruled out one of the teddies.

It wasn’t until I found a bodysuit of black lace and of my size with a slit down the front and a small opening between the legs when I considered it. I took it to the dressing room to try it on, and it fit like a glove. I thought about calling him up to come on over just to surprise him with it. I still looked on at my body as if I had just done something totally drastic.

It was worth the shot. I bought it with my money and kept the bright pink paper bag tucked under my arm, away from the prying eyes of the world. I had just bought some lingerie for myself as well as for the vampire whom I loved.

When I returned home, I was still alone in the house, which gave me the perfect chance to call up Alex and ask him to come on over. I set down that pink bag as well as my purse right next to my bunk bed as I fetched the cordless phone. All the while, I thought about how I was going to surprise him with it.

There had only been one other time I had called him at the house of Skolnick as he usually visited right as I was thinking of him, but I dialed his number, albeit gingerly. It rang once, twice, and then four time before it reached the machine. A loud beep, and then—

“Hey, Alex, it’s Lily. I was wondering if you’d like to come on over some time today and hang out for a bit. Give me a ring as soon as you get this, please and thank you.”

I pressed the red button and put the phone back in the holster. A part of me didn’t care if anyone came home and the phone rang and picked up to hear his voice, but I also wondered about that tidbit. Like, dear god, Lily’s having sex with some strange boy under our roof!

I shook my head at myself as I made my way back upstairs and searched for my big long raincoat. Though the rainy season had started, I kept it near the back of the closet.

I took it out of hiding and hung it up on the edge of the top bunk bed as I changed out of my clothes into that bodysuit, that time without any underwear on underneath. The lace hugged my body better, especially at my hips and thighs, and the slit down in the front of my body reached the top of my belly button. It caressed over my nipples, and to the point of almost tickling me no less. I took the coat off the hanger and wrapped it around my body right as I caught the sound of a tap on my window.

I turned and looked to see him on the other side of the windowpane. I recognized his black curls and steely eyes on the other side, and more so when he waved at me. I fastened the top two hooks before I lunged over there and opened the window for him.

“That was fast!” I declared.

“I don’t fuck around, dearest Lilian,” Alex replied, and he kissed me on the side of the face. “Especially when the wolves are coming for you as we speak, so…” I stepped back to let him in, and all the while, I tugged on the coat to keep it closed. He closed and locked the window once again and ran his fingers through his hair; his gray streak seemed a lot brighter than usual, as if it was made of pearl. I kept the coat wrapped snugly around my body as he strode on over to the doorway to ensure it was locked, and then he turned around to face me: those eyes were big and bright, a perfect blue like that of the sky following the fog bank.

“The window’s closed now, and you know there’s no need to cover up for me, either,” he pointed out in a soft voice.

“I just… got a chill,” I confessed to him. He then shook his head.

“No,” he replied.

“No?”

“I know you, Lilian, this isn’t like you.”

I swallowed and held still. For a split second, I forgot I was wearing the bodysuit, and more so as he slowly neared me. I stepped on over to my bed and took a seat on the edge of the mattress.

“What gives?” he asked me again with a chuckle. “Why are you all bundled up like this?”

He then lunged for me, to which I lay down on my back on the bed.

“Lilian—Lilian, you can’t hide from me—”

“You’re right, I can’t hide from you.” I opened my jacket and revealed my bodysuit to him. He held back and raised his eyebrows at me.

“Whoa.” I lay there before him with the lace covering my nipples and the neckline extended all the way down to my waist. I brought my hands to my chest, right above my breasts, so he could see everything that I had to offer.

“What do you think?” I asked him, to which he swallowed, and I could see him breathing harder.

“I think I had no idea what I was missing the first time.” He ran his fingers through his black hair and showed me a little smirk. His eyes darkened with passion. His cherry lips parted ever so slightly as if he beckoned a kiss from me.

“There he is,” I whispered. “There’s no crotch on this, either.”

“Excellent, excellent…” He lowered his otherwise warm, soft voice to that thick, throaty tone, and I knew what he was thinking.

He ran the tips of two of his long, spindly fingers down the bare sliver of skin on my chest, at least to the top of my stomach, and then slowly, he bowed his head and lightly kissed me right between my breasts. His coarse hair tickled my skin, and it was enough to bring a thought to my mind.

“I want you to blow on my nipples,” I whispered to him.

“With the lace on or off?” he asked me in that husky voice.

“On, then off.”

He lifted his head and lightly blew on my left nipple first. His breath was cold and delicate, as icy as the breeze outside, and it sent a shiver up my spine. He smirked again, that time with a rich shadow over his face, and he moved over to my right nipple. Another shiver up my spine and, very carefully, he nudged the lace off my breasts, left, followed by the right. I lay there fully exposed to him.

“This is how we do,” he whispered to me with a slow lick of his lips. He blew on my left nipple again, and that time, I could seriously feel the cold that emanated from his body. I shifted my legs underneath him. I could feel myself growing moist from the feeling. He was tormenting me, and he loved every second of it.

“Come on! Where are you!”

“That them?” I choked out.

“The wolfies will have to wait,” he promised me as he bowed his head and ran his tongue around the rim of my nipple. He held me still underneath his one hand even as I started to buck my hips. I tilted my head back and breathed harder. Out of the corner of my eye, all I could see was the crown of his head right under my chin. Those lacy, curly ringlets. That plume of silver right under my chin.

He was having his starter but I was about ready to give him the main course as I ran my fingers through his hair, mainly through his gray streak. It was like a little cloud just before it rained, a beckoning of sorts that the water was about to rush over us, over me. I could see the scarring on his head, the deep mortal wound that killed him and left him to become the undead beauty that he had become right before my eyes.

Alex lifted his head again, that time to show me his closed eyes and the sweet little smile on his face. I put my hands on either side of his face for a hearty kiss on those smooth lips. He put his hands on either side of my body: I could feel him caressing over the lace on my back. Though he had taken off the lace on my breasts, he was still mindful of my lingerie. I did spend money on it after all.

“You beautiful boy,” I whispered to him. “Beautiful and dangerous.”

“You know it,” he whispered back to me.

“Come on! Where are you!” The wolves outside were agitated, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to be with him for as long as I could.

“Let me stay here tonight,” he whispered to me.

“Of course, baby,” I breathed to him. He ran his hands down the shape of my body towards my hips and the space between. I did my best to hold still as he slipped one finger in between my lips, but I couldn’t do it. I locked eyes with him as he touched the head of my clit with the very tip of his finger. All it took with me was a couple of swipes from him and his cold flesh.

Indeed, I breathed harder. He was going to make me come again, even with the wolves outside, even with the wolves on our tail once again.

I closed my eyes and let out a soft moan. They didn’t need to hear me.

“I should wear something like this,” he told me.

“You would look so hot in lingerie,” I whispered to him as I gave him another light kiss on the lips, and that he shivered from the feeling.

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josiebelladonna · 29 days

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The Confectioner’s Tale 🍓🌹🧁🩸💋

“you’re all peaches and cream, pink nightmares, lust a wild ocean, don’t rescue me, I'm drowning in wet dreams it seems.” -“sicily”, queens of the stone age

“i’ve seen your shadow knocking at my door, all plastic face and shaking hands. how much space can ever hold you? are you still aware?” -“bed of roses”, screaming trees

“she’s well-acquainted with the touch of the velvet hand, like a lizard on a windowpane. the man in the crowd with the multicolored mirrors on his hobnail boots.” -“happiness is a warm gun”, the beatles

“for oft, when on my couch i lie/in vacant or in pensive mood,/they flash upon that inward eye/which is the bliss of solitude;/and then my heart with pleasure fills,/and dances with the daffodils.” -“i wandered lonely as a cloud”, william wordsworth

“good night, baby, don’t stay up too late.” -instagram user badmotorartist to alex skolnick during an instagram live session, june 2021

“you have every right to tell me to fuck off, but i don’t really care.” -yours truly in a letter to ben shepherd, march 2014

#one of those ‘need to write’ sort of things at this point #the confectioner’s tale #the confectioner’s tale fanfic #alex skolnick #peter steele #ben shepherd #(plus special guests)#testament #testament fanfic #type o negative #type o negative fanfic #soundgarden #soundgarden fanfic #grunge fanfiction #metal fanfiction #metallica fanfiction #(pinging that tag because… it’s a long story)#text

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harventheblorbo · 1 year

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Testament relationship headcanons? :3

Also I adore your writing, keep it up!!

General Testament head cannons!

Containing; Testament

___ is gender neutral

Warning; None

I feel like they would be closed off at first and only telling some details about where they grew up and such. It would take some months for them to tell you about how they basically revived justice at one point and how they basically led people to their death.

Definitely would help you with everything that they can. They would find pleasure in helping you with every day tasks if it seemed like you were struggling.

It would be so comforting to vent to them. I feel like they would just lay there with you as you rant about your day as they randomly just chime in stuff giving some advice or comfort.

Most definitely would love to have you with them while they do their hobbies. Painting with them is such of a must. It would be so calming and they would have relaxing music in the background as they talk with you.

Testament is definitely someone who loves to talk to you about some of your favorite things to do and just talk about anything you want to chat about. I honestly feel like they just smile at you when you start to rant about something you love as they encourage you to go on.

#guilty gear x reader #guilty gear imagine #guilty gear fanfic #guilty gear testament #guilty gear x you #guilty gear strive #guilty gear headcanons #guilty gear #ggst x Reader #ggst x you

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cowsaresushi-coral · 3 months

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reding the bible is making me realize that i dont know whats fanfic and whats bibble

#coral yaps #delete later #religion #the the the lucifer thing? the war?#thats fanfic???#not folley of man and gods own children??#also i think this is what i get for apparently reading part of dantes inferno in middle school and not reemmeber #also why is it going off about these ages in genesis 5 old testament

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crazy-maracuya · 26 days

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"A ring?" Solomon said as he looked at it with a curious regard. He was glad for it, as he always was with everything The Lord had giveth. It is an explendid ring as well, pure gold more fine than the richest metals of his house, it could rival the jewels of his mother and all the consorts alike. Still, he was confused as to what this beautiful ring could be useful for in building the temple of The Lord.

Michael, standing next to him in less splendor than the sight he usually wore in heaven and earth, responded to his curious face. "With this, you can entrap the demons as you wish. Ornias will no longer be a problem for you... or for..." The archangel shook its head, his small smile quickly hidden by the saffron hair. "Never mind. With this ring, you shall lock up all the demons of the earth. Male and female alike." Solomon's eyes blinked at the last part, left unexplained by the archangel. "And," Michael fiddled with the ring, the bronze fingers then gently extending out to him, like a metal slowly heating up and down. Solomon tried to pick it up, fearful of his hands that might touch the archangel and burn through his skin. "With this, they will help you built Jerusalem."

Solomon looked at the pentalpha star embedded on the centerpiece, then back at the chief prince. "Really?"

"I'm sure of it." The archangel looked back to the land ahead, the people of The Lord creating the basis of where the temple would be. "All of us need something to get our mind off as well. A small day off from their troubles will be what the rest of the court needs. But I doubt that even if all the demons were gone, Gabriel will find a way to work himself to exhaustion." His voice sounded more beautiful than any singer Solomon had heard of in his life. If his father could listen to that voice, he was sure he would put pray to The Lord to eternity for Michael to sing one of his psalms. The archangel, though, was too busy looking to notice the wide eye stare from Solomon, who quickly put his emotions away and thanked The Lord for the gift.

"And you as well."

"I should say that about you, son of King David. If it wasn't for your calls, I would have probably not seen the start of the temple's construction. And I pray I can see when it is finished as well."

In the blink of an eye he left, no trace of himself or of his radiance. Solomon could still feel the cool breeze of the sprinkling water, especially in the airy summer, where his presence was like the shade of a tree. Solomon looked back at the ring, finally letting the joy override him as firecrackers extended through his body. A gift of The Lord! A gift to him! He probably showed a smile or two during his meeting with the archangel but– Ah! He just couldn't help it anymore! With the prayers of his heart heard and met, his feet dashed away to meet his servant.

#angels #bible fandom #abrahamic mythology #archangel michael #demons #solomon #testament of solomon #fanfic #tos retelling #wip #one very much will take a long while to finish wip

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theindiscreetbookworm · 3 months

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"Man, fuck that guy" to "can I fuck that guy?", also know as the Izzy Hands fan experience.

#i was so so mad at him the first time i finished s1 #and then i was less mad the second time #and even less the third #until i wasn't mad at all #and by the time s2 rolled around he was my sweet terrible wet puppy dog #i think i even made a post early on that was like izzy sucks which is a testament to con's acting #we truly are so blind #anyway long live izzy hands in all my fanfic #thank you and good night #izzy hands #ofmd

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serialgirlposter · 11 months

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Things that make me insane: this line justice says about testament.

The idea of testament really thinking this would make their father happy in some twisted way....

Justice saying that the reason she (or he? In the og guilty gear i think he him is used which i also noticed on rewatch) didn't have complete control over testament was because of their love for their father....

#like bro #testament was a nice person pre gear conversion and just wanted to make their father happy #so the possibility that they're still doing this for kliff kills me #there was a fanfic that was focused on this but i think it didn't get completed #make m want to write something myself but i cant really put words to paper so #such an interesting dynamic kliff and testament have #a tradgedy that should be more focused on and explored #like genuinly the most somber thing in guilty gear in my opinion #kliff undersn #guilty gear #testament #testament undersn #guilty gear testament #kliff guilty gear #also he/him testament jumscare sorry for that #the story of a nice kid who wanted to prove themselves to their father so went to war even though the thought of blood and violence made #them sick #only to be experimented on while the father thought they where dead only to come out twisted and violent causing the father to have to kill #them twice #also please don't point out that kliff is standing like the everyone is so mean 2 me meme i can't handle it if you do

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emichevy · 10 months

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Still so astronomically blown away by how some people can write shit. The shit I read from some fanfics blows away anything I’ve ever read from my philosophy and English classes.

Like I thought My writing was cool BUT-

Like how do people just do that?? For FANFICTION.

And I can’t even imagine how much reading or research/ whatever they do about each world or such.

And then they just punch out the most gut twisting heavenly ascending “holy FUCK” inducing piece of writing ever.

*PUNCHES WALL*

NO CAUSE WHERE DO YALL LEARN TO WRITE LIKE THAT- SCHOOL HAS KILLED MY CREATIVE WRITING ABILITY GIVE IT TO ME

#what the FUCK #how the FUCK #DO YALL WRITE LIKE THAT #YES THIS IS BECAUSE I SAW ONE CHAPTER #OF A SPIDER-MAN FANFIC WHILE SCROLLING ON HERE #LIKE HOW THE HELL DO YALL JUST #“’hehe imma write something small’#*pumps out writing that not even the Old Testament can compare to*#screaming cryinf throwing up #writing #fanfic #wish I could write like that #like it’s a genuine thing I want to be able to do #also wondering where they get their knowledge on #specific things like technology or whatever #just from comics??#or WHERE

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fyre444 · 6 months

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Still stuck in Johnnys arcade and how blehg it was so I made a fan made “what if” for it

Hope ya enjoy ^ ^

ok so johnnys story starts off with him meeting testament, his usual line for them. ("Now here's a face I haven't seen in a minute" ) Testament has a line with him something along the lines of "And you've grown a bit."

(doing a perfect run for this sooo)

Johnny beats Testament and Tes makes a remark about how strong they still are, even through age they're still the same old johnny. Testament then begins to ask about the pirates, Dizzy, and May.

"Thats actually the reason I was searchin' for you."

"Pardon?"

"Jus'.... May's been off lately and I feel lost as what to do with us."

"Hm, I see... after all everything you've done for me it seems fit I return the favor."

"Go on, Johnny."

Johnny then begins to talk to Testament about how May has liked him for the longet time it seems and though he thought it would go away after a bit, he sees it hasn't and its just gotten worse. He feels bad about it but can't speak upon why he hasn't confronted her yet as its a long story.

Testament understands and even takes Johnny's offer of "Grub" (His line "Wanna grab some grub after this?")

Johnny makes a cheekish remark about how flattering it is and Testament immediately puts him down.

Stage 7

(im unsure if there should be a gimmick where if you perfect the rest of the other battles then you can skip thi one, and unlocks more dialogue, but if not just imagine Testament and Johnny had grub after their fight)

Testament brings up him and May again and Johnny comes through

He is scared of the repercussion of telling her off and that their bond will forever be tainted. He also feels as if its too late. Lastly, hes scared of breaking his person that is "Johnny".

Johnnys person of being a super cool, sly, awesome guy is simply a persona because he feels as if thats a part of his dad with him. He saw his dad as a figure to look up to and just like he is right now, and wants to keep that on to remember him. Hes afraid of losing him completely.

Testament understandably, has compassion for Johnny. They understand his worries and such. Testament mentions their relationship with Kliff, their father figure. They bring up how they always felt love for Kliff, even through their darkest times and even as Kliff wanted to kill Justice and Testament. Testament wishes to have that moment with their dad again, to tell them that they always do love them, but understands that sometimes thing have to die and its okay to let go of them Testament says that Johnny should take the chance to talk to May, as he has it now, and shouldn't waste a moments notice.

Johnny thanks them, even asking to come visit them sometime, Testament only replying that, “They’ll put some thought into it.”

Stage 8. Johnny and May meet for the first time again and May makes a comment about Johnny being off and cheating on her and hes just extremely awkward and clearly not up for it, so they fight as shes pretty upset.

After they fight though, May mentions that they do love Johnny, hence why shes going hard on him. Johnny isnt mad or anything but once May starts to go on about them two and how hardship breeds love, Johnny cuts her off. He tells her that he does love her but, not in that way. She asks to elaborate and still tries to go on but Johnny says hes serious

May begins to ask “why?” Why does he say this?? Johnny elaborates saying hes seen her as his daughter always and loves her in that way but, not romantically. He wants the best for her and just wants her to truly be happy with someone who loves her back.

May even gets more upset, asking him why now, why does he NOW say it. After everything and all the time she spent on him and their love?! Beginning to tear up, she ask herself if she’s even been a good daughter for him. Johnny could even get a word out shes even more upset, and proceeds to Stage 9

Stage 9-

May in her intro is a mix of both sadness, frustration, and anger as to why he didnt say anything or went along with it.

Johnny tries to calm her but it proceeds to the fight

Post fight, May is tired and sitting on the floor, beginning to sob a bit. Johnny crouches down and listens to her from an arms distance, even putting and arm on her shoulder. She feels so wrong for liking him for so long, yet is angry at him for not telling her earlier or doing anything about it. She feels like a mistake and wrong for all of her feelings. She tells herself that she shouldn’t have been saved by him, that all of this could’ve been prevented if-

As Johnny sees this he goes up to her, a hug, giving her a tight squeeze around her as she sobs. Taking off his hat and glasses, he tells her hes truly sorry, to the depths of his heart. He felt so nervous and scared to do so, he never wanted to upset her and thus, stayed quiet about it. Johnny was afraid to lift off the cool guy persona for just one second, in fear of destroying the image he built for the pirates as a strong dad, but now; he knows it wasnt right of him though. He tells her that not telling her earlier was truly his fault, he accepts that. He acknowledges that shes mad, and understands, but he wants to let her know that he will still always love her as his daughter. Shes done nothing but be a spark of light in his life, and shes not wrong or disgusting.

He loves her and always will no matter how angry or sad she is, but wants to let her know that for her sake, she has to move on. He hates seeing her stuck on someone who can't love her romantically. Though, he’s going to be there for the entire way through this tough process.

Johnny finishes by saying he loves her.

May, wiping her nose, says she does too.... dad.

#guilty gear #may guilty gear #ggst #guilty gear strive #johnny guilty gear #testament guilty gear #fanfic #alternate ending #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr

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guiltygearbridget · 6 months

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For @nostalgic-soda's ficoween prompt 24: Decor! (i hope this fits the prompt adshjf)

my first ever guilty gear fic! sorry if the characterization is a bit off asdjghf, hope you enjoy!!! :D

#guilty gear #guilty gear fanfic #guilty gear fanfiction #gg fanfic #gg fanfiction #testament #johnny #may #johnny guilty gear #may guilty gear #testament guilty gear #testament gg #may gg #johnny gg #ficoween #johnny x testament #johnnytest

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feverinfeveroutfic · 12 days

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blood & chocolate

chapter twenty-nine: i feel the dark

The next thing I knew, I woke up to the feeling of something soft in my hands. Something soft in my hands, and something warm and tender pressed up against my body, complete with the smell of something soapy and fresh right up against the tip of my nose. I pulsed my fingers against his flesh, and I smiled at the feeling inside of my palms, and I thought of kissing him on the side of the neck just to fully relish in the feeling before me. He was so soft and tender, like I had made a batch of good biscuits, all straight out of the oven.

All I felt like doing was spooning his little body. To hold him and feel him all night long.

But then again, I started to think about his pleasure, the way that he was feeling laying there before me and in my arms. I needed to know how he would feel if I gave him what he hungered for with me.

Alex shifted his weight a bit, and I subsequently loosened my grip on him. He rolled over onto his back, and I moved my hand down to the waist of his underwear. Loose locks of his black hair spread over the side of his face and neck: with his eyes still closed, he really looked like a young boy again.

At some point during our time there in the safety of my bedroom, he had taken off his pants and showed me his snug little shorts in all of their pearlescent white glory. His legs were long and lanky, and his sinewy thighs had not a single hair to be found on them. Perfect for kisses once we got things going again.

So long and thin, so delicate, and so toned as well. I couldn’t stop thinking about his thighs even as I closed my eyes again and kept my arms around his waist. I kept my body pressed against his as well: no way I was going to let this gorgeous boy go away from me. I gently rubbed the side of my face against the inside of his hair to take in the soft, soapy musk at the roots of his coarse jet-black hair.

I wanted nothing more than to drink him down. Give him some more weight just to hold onto his body a while longer and then I could drink him in like I was parched and dry, so thirsty from traversing across the desert. I was thirsty. I was thirsty and hungry. I nuzzled his hair some more, and I slithered my fingers over his waist. I ran my fingertip around the rim of his belly button. Oh, to make him all the food he could ever possibly wish for and watch him gain more weight. For him to gain weight and grow even softer with the feeling.

Still keeping his eyes closed, Alex rolled his head over the top of the pillow, and for a second, I swore that he would wake up and see me looking over him. I began thinking ahead in all of this, and more so when I wondered if Dave was still out there in the front porch.

What would happen if Alex and I found each other some ten years before in particular.

I lightly ran my fingers down the crest of his hipbone and onto the top of his thigh: where his belly was soft and plush as a pillow, his thighs were toned and sinewy. He cracked a smile and snickered from the feeling: I tickled the top of his skin, and he kicked his legs a bit. I licked my lips as I held both hands over the tops of his thighs.

“Mmm… cut it out, you guys,” he giggled, and I tickled him with both hands over his little belly, and at that point, he jolted himself awake and threw himself against my body. His eyes were big and his cherry lips had parted enough to where I could readily kiss him if I wanted to.

“I couldn’t resist tickling you,” I confessed.

“I can see that,” he whispered to me, and he swallowed hard. That beautiful Adam’s apple on his throat.

Alex slithered off of me and back onto the side of the bed right next to me. He then sat up and ran his long, spidery fingers through his black hair. He shook his head and gazed on back at me with a pensive look upon his face.

“So… do we wanna get the weed?” I asked him as I propped my head up in my palm.

“Yeah. But I kind of want to stay here, though. I don’t really feel like going out and nabbing some bud for us at the moment.”

He then lay back down next to me with his hands folded over his chest and his stomach, the latter of which rose up a bit from underneath his shirt.

“You are getting so soft,” I told him.

“And I’m about to get even softer.” He put his hands underneath his head, and the bottom hem of his shirt lifted up to show me some of his skin and the fine line of hair that ran down from his belly button to the top of the hem of his shorts. I licked my lips and moved my head in closer to his face as if to entice him with some kisses. But I never did. Instead, I teased him with the suggestion that I was about to do that for him.

He hooded his eyes at me, and in turn, he showed me a sweet little smile. He moved one hand down from his head and rested it on the upper part of his stomach. Our eyes locked, but out of the corner of my eye, I watched him run his hand down to the waist of his shorts and ultimately, that bare exposed skin. Our eyes were locked, and yet, I knew what he was doing right then in teasing me.

He showed me his tongue, and his eyes darkened at the feeling. If only I could see in what he was seeing with me right then: I would probably do the same thing that he was doing.

“I don’t want to leave this bed, if I’m honest,” he confessed; his voice drifted down into that low and husky tone once again, and that time it sounded as though he was in fact seducing me. “I really don’t want to leave this room, either. Let’s stay here forever.”

“But if we stay here, we can’t get more food,” I pointed out. “We can’t get more food and you would lose your belly.”

“True, true,” he replied as he slowly caressed the very tips of his fingers over the roundest part of his belly: his waist was thick and full, and my fingers tingled at the thought of his soft skin there. I pursed my lips as I strove not to look down there. I needn’t look at that beautiful skin and let him win the tease. I was more drawn to those bright blue eyes of his, anyway, the way they burned themselves right into my mind like the cherries of cigarettes, much like how I wanted to swipe those cherry lips of his with the touch of my own.

But out of the corner of my eye, I noticed his stroking his own skin at such a slow, deliberate pace and with nothing more than the tips of his fingers. I thought about putting my head down there just to kiss him on that soft skin. Kiss him there and undo his pants to bring on a good old-fashioned little blowie. I knew he had a great appetite residing within him: it was just coaxing it out into the open.

“I have a question,” he started again, that time with a clearing of his throat.

“Go ahead,” I coaxed him.

“Why can’t I rub your belly?” he asked me with a playful little smirk.

“Mine?” I sputtered out, slightly taken aback. He finally let go of my gaze and let those eyes of his sweep down to the rest of my body. He showed me the tip of his tongue once again, that time at the edges of his teeth.

“Yeah, you’ve got this… soft pillow here, almost like that of a big round teddy bear of sorts.” His gaze never left my body. “I kind of want to give you some touches and some lovin’, too.” Those luminous, deep eyes swept up to my face as if he was enticing me. A shiver ran up my spine, and my fingertips tingled at the thought of touching him some more.

“I kind of… want to kiss you on the belly,” he continued. “You know, give you the same sweet caresses that you give unto me.”

“You are just so irresistible,” I remarked. He hooded his eyes as he examined the crest of my collar bones and the sides of my neck. I wished I knew what he was thinking. I especially wished I knew what he was thinking when he moved his fingers down to the waist of his shorts. No way he could do that in front of me.

“The shorts are coming off,” he breathed out to me.

“The shorts are staying on until I say so,” I commanded to him, also in a low tone of voice. He inched closer to me, and not once did he take his hand off his body, either. I finally put my arm around his body and held him even closer to me: as soft as ever.

“God, I love to cuddle,” I whispered into his ear.

“I love to cuddle and I love to feel,” he retorted back to me.

“You like to play, too,” I said.

“We’re gonna have to face Elle and Dave at some point, though,” he pointed out with a sigh.

“I know, and that kills me to think about, too,” I confessed as I ran my finger along the line of hair under his belly button. He shifted his hips at the feeling, and he held still when I kept my fingertip right at the waist of his underwear. “Kills me to think that this beautiful skin could be subject to all of that, when you deserve to be genuinely kissed and loved on.”

“Do you think Dave is still out there?”

“That means I would have to let you go and get up,” I pointed out, and I lightly moved my finger down his happy trail again, and that time around brought a light little gasp from his lips. “Does that tickle?”

“I ain’t telling you,” he chided.

“If I go and look to see if Dave is out there, would you tell me?”

“Depends,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “You feel like making us something to nosh on?”

“I’m actually not hungry,” I told him. “But I’ll make you a little something something, though.”

He licked his lips again, that time with as much slowness and deliberation as his fingers on his belly.

“I’ll be right here waiting,” he promised me in a near whisper.

I climbed over him and padded out of the bedroom to the front of my apartment, which had been enshrouded with darkness with the coming of nightfall. I was wary to not switch on the light lest Dave be out there and see me through the blinds on the front window there. Lou’s place next door was completely silent on the other side of the kitchen wall; but I took a peek through the blinds in the kitchen to my narrow square porch right outside the door. No one out there.

Dave either never showed up, or he did but he left after a bit.

I breathed a sigh of relief, and I reached back and switched on the kitchen light to make Alex a pastrami sandwich on a hoagie roll. I served it on a plate and everything.

When I left the kitchen, and I turned off the light, I held still so my eyes would adjust to the darkness again. When I returned to the room, he had sat upright in bed and turned on the light on the desk: he kept the hem of his shirt up to show off his belly to me.

“Yup, he’s definitely out there,” I said to him, and I sank back down on the bed next to him.

“He’s going to be out there all night,” he chuckled as he took the sandwich from me and took a bite. “Oh, my god. It’s so good.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from, big boy,” I assured him.

#fanfic #fanfiction #testament #testament fanfic #testament band #alex skolnick #eric peterson #slash fic #slash fanfiction #belly kink #kink tag #kink content #writing #also on ao3 #text #mild smut #blood & chocolate #blood and chocolate #blood & chocolate fanfic

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josiebelladonna · 1 year

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As the Seasons Grey | Chapter One: Let Your Eyes Wander

"look back, i sift through all the cliques, roaming the halls all year, making me sick. while everyone's out tryin to make the cut, what, and when you think you know me right, i switch it up." -"back to school (mini maggit)", deftones

She was the kind of person that only entered a classroom once in every while, and yet she seemed like someone who should have been there forever. A spirit in the night, the way that she moved about, everything and more. She wasn’t one to have a crush on anyone else around her, either; merely someone who had come to class to do her work and ask a few questions here and there, to which she held on to every word that emerged from his lips, and she tended to her notes all the while. There was something so hypnotic about her, especially for him.

She had come to the college on a whim, much like how he had as well. It was as if the stars had bound them together, and yet, there was nothing to tie them by the hip.

The whole entire thing resembled a dream of sorts, as if something beyond them wanted them to be together forever.

There was something in the air that day at school as well, especially once she strode into the classroom and took her spot there at the front of the room. She caught him there at the teacher’s desk on the far-left side of the room. He sat there with his back to the classroom: she knew right away that it wasn’t Mr. Hansen.

She set her bookbag down on the floor by her feet and ran her fingers through her coarse dark hair. She squeezed herself into the plastic chair fused to the smooth little desk, the kind that was barely flat for a pencil to lay flat upon: it was a bit difficult as is even without her long bulky green jacket, but she managed. She peered behind her at the rest of the class as it filed in for the next hour; she then returned to the front of the classroom as he raised his head from the book he was reading, but he never turned around all the way.

Everyone else filled up the desks behind her and to the left of her. A few girls next to her chattered about something, but she paid very little attention. She was merely thinking about what to do for her ceramics class later that day at the noon hour, and yet there was something about the way in which they spoke about it tickled her fancy to a degree. She turned her attention to them, these three girls who sat in a single row all together behind her, all three of them with rich jet-black hair: the one closest to her had a short bob with a little flip on the bottom; the one in the middle had done the top layer of her hair up in a little ponytail; the one on the right had a tight bun with a tortoise shell barrette at the center of it.

If she didn’t know better, she swore that they were triplets as they all had those round pale faces and the same black hair. A redheaded girl had taken her seat behind them complete with a rather flustered look upon her face, to which she ran her fingers through her hair and let out a low whistle.

“You gotta get a move on, Marlene,” the one on the left quipped right then.

“It’s crazy out there, though, Val,” she told her as the boy in front of her took his seat right then.

She had never really paid any attention to him before, but he looked like someone who could tell her his darkest secrets and she would promise to him to never share them with anyone: he had fine smooth inky black hair himself, and yet his skin had this gentle olive tone to it, as if he had come from a household of mixed heritage. He had these stubby little fingers and yet his arms looked so toned and shapely, like he worked out in his downtime away from school.

The room fell silent, and she directed her gaze to the front of the room once again, simply because he had stood to his feet and walked on over to the podium in the middle of the room with the roll call book. The first thing that she noticed about him was the rectangular glasses rested upon his prominent aquiline nose, and the way that the black frames brought out the deep gaze of his eyes. From his stance there alone, he commanded attention.

His voice was warm and tender, however, as if he was in fact meant to be a teacher at some point in his life. He had the grays experience, and yet, he struck her as sprightly, especially when he said their names. At one point, she dropped her gaze down to the white linoleum underneath their feet, and she could feel a wave of warmth spread over her.

“Christine?”

She turned her attention back to the front of the classroom, to that spot right in the middle of the blackboard where he stood there with the book plunked out before him as he took roll call. He glanced over at her. The substitute teacher for the day, with his shoulder-length black hair and that long plume of gray upon his head, long and thin like that of a feather, as well as the fine lines of age upon his face, wrapped up in a black and blue pinstriped shirt on top of a plain black one and faded black jeans: she chuckled at the sight of his black streamlined Chuck Taylors on his feet.

“Present,” she declared, and he showed her a little smile and a twinkle in those deep-set eyes in response. He nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the back of his thumb and proceeded on down the list. The only older man in a room full of college students.

“Eric?” he called out, and the boy next to her raised his hand for him, and he nodded at him. He then turned towards Christine.

“It’s funny, we’ve sat next to each other for the last week, and we never learned each other’s name before,” he quipped to her in a low voice.

“I know, right?” she said with a chuckle.

Soon enough, he reached the very bottom of the list and then he cleaned off his glasses with the bottom hem of his shirt, and then he brought them back to his face.

“Are you the sub?” the girl on the right side of the trio asked him.

“Yes, I am the substitute for the day,” he informed them with a straight face, and then he rubbed his hands together. “I’m not going to lie to you guys: I don’t really know much about music theory, but I do know what today’s lesson holds for all of us. You know, Mr. Hansen told me what you all should be doing for the day.”

“So, we’re not going to watch a movie?” Christine chimed in.

“Oh, no,” he assured her with a shake of his head. “It’s going to be some time before we can watch a little movie.” Through the square lenses of his glasses, she could see his blue eyes as they locked onto her. He hooded his eyelids at the sight of her and even puckered his lips a bit. It was as if right then and there, she could feel a connection with him.

Every so often over the course of the hour, he would look over at her with a playful little smirk on his face and that twinkle in his eye, as if he was up to mischief. It was hard to imagine a professor who carried his weight so well: the way that he walked around the front of the room with his hands clasped together before his chest and the way that the little soft-looking roll of fat around his waist poked out underneath his arms, the very beginnings of a middle-aged potbelly, made Christine think of elegance. Even with the little bit of extra weight on his body, he carried himself so well, with such grace and class, as if he belonged on a runway rather than the front of the classroom.

Whenever he tossed his hair back, he showed off his neck, in all its tender slim beauty. Even with the slight lines around his prominent Adam’s apple, he showed no signs of sagging there. He was graying, growing older, and yet he showed no signs of aging. If anything, he seemed to go along with that big pocket of grays at the front of his hair.

When he scribbled something on the blackboard, he flashed a fleeting, but knowing glance over at her, as if he was trying to read her mind, or come inside of her mind, rather. Whenever he wrote something at a quick pace, he stuck his tongue out at her, as if he was trying to tell her something.

He claimed to not know much about music theory, and yet, he seemed rather astute in the way in which he spoke to the class. He would throw out a question or two and everyone in the class would try to guess what he was thinking. He would let the class teach themselves.

At one point, he turned his back to them, and Christine felt a tap on her shoulder.

“He likes you,” the girl right behind her whispered to her, and she shrugged her shoulders at that.

“No, girl, he’s got it hot for you,” she added.

“Colette’s right, he keeps looking at you like he wants you to undress for him,” the girl in the middle of the trio chimed in.

Right then, he turned back around, and Christine saw that he picked up a nylon-string guitar from the little black metallic rack on the floor, and he took his seat on the surface of the teacher’s desk with it plunked across his lap. A piece of his hair fell over his glasses and the bridge of his prominent nose, all to where Christine could only see his right eye and the right side of his face. Those long, lanky fingers spread across the neck of the guitar like the legs of a scorpion, and he pursed his lips and puckered them out as if he beckoned a kiss from her.

It was right then she realized that his lips were rather full and sensual, as if they were made for kisses.

A chill ran up her spine at the sight of him as he played a piece of Latin music for them at a quick pace. Some of that lush, decadent spice, as if he was playing it all for her instead. She glanced over at the rest of the class and most of them did in fact look rather bored at the sight of him there: he was playing it all for her instead.

At one point, he shook his head about and his hair spread over his shoulders, a fluffy little mane that looked rather soft and plush in texture. She knew that he had had long scrumptious black hair at one point in his younger days, and yet, there was something about that gray plume that struck her as interesting, what caused it and how long as to how he had it.

He jammed it for about ten minutes before he brought it down to a slower, more sensuous outro, and then he finished it out with a final strum of the pluck. A round of applause and he set it back down on the rack on the floor. He then peered up to the clock on the back wall of the classroom and raised his dark eyebrows: when he did, his entire face lit up. An older man, and yet he was still as young as ever.

“Are there any final questions?” he called out to them.

“What are your influences?” Eric asked him.

“I’ll tell you later,” he frankly replied, and a couple of people giggled at that. Colette, right behind Christine, raised her hand.

“What’s the story behind your gray streak?” she asked him. “Like why is that one part of your head gray but the rest isn’t?”

“I don’t really know,” he confessed with a shake of his head. “I’ve heard some people say it’s a birthmark, or it’s a scar—one time, I went up to Indian Rock, north of Berkeley, where I'm from originally, when I was a kid and everyone in my class hit their head trying to go up this thing. I was about fourteen, I was brushing my hair one day and I found a gray hair down in the sink basin. I showed it to my mom, and she goes, ‘oh, it must be one of your father’s’ but my dad was like—completely bald at that point. So—you know, for the exact origin? I can’t really say.”

Christine then shot up her hand. He lowered his eyelids at her and nodded in her direction.

“Not a question, but I like your shoes,” she quipped to him, and he took a glance down to his feet, at those black streamlined Chucks, to which he pushed his body back to look past his little belly.

“I do, too, that’s why I'm wearing ‘em,” he retorted back to her with a quick flash of his eyebrows to her.

“Is that why you’re so good at guitar?” she followed up; with Mr. Hansen, she was usually quiet, but something about him brought out something in her.

“No, I'm good at guitar because I got good at it, my dear,” he said as he turned his body towards her.

“You got good ‘cause the skills are in your pants,” she quipped, and Colette burst out laughing. Eric peered back at her with his tongue out to her as if she had said something right to him instead.

“Oh, ho, we’ve got a little saucy one over here, everyone,” he declared, and he strode on over to her, much to the murmurs of everyone behind her.

“It’s a simple observation, actually,” she insisted with a little wave of her hand about before her. “I feel like what you have in your clothes might have something to do with it as well as—everything else. I don’t really know what I'm saying.”

“I think you do,” Eric said in a hushed voice, and Colette and the other three girls behind them giggled at that. Some hushed whispers from the back of the room caught Christine’s attention right then.

He stood before her with his hands tucked into his pockets, and his shoulder-length hair sprawled over his narrow shoulders. Christine's eyes scanned him from his lanky feet all the way up his slender, spindly legs, to his slightly full hips, to his full, round waist and his deep chest, to the rolled pinstriped sleeves on his elbows, to the sly little smirk on his round, handsome face and the square glasses that made him look like a proper professor.

“You know what—just for that, I ought to see you after class,” he remarked, and she swore that he had flashed her a little wink.

“Can you even do that?” Eric asked him as a sly little smirk crossed his face as well.

“You know, now that you mention it, I don’t think I can,” he replied with a knitting of his eyebrows. Christine lowered her gaze, and she was face to face with his crotch.

The kids behind Marlene and the trio whispered things to each other right then, and that was when the bell rang.

“Don’t tell Mr. Hansen you watched a movie,” he called after the class as they all packed in for the next period. Christine picked up her bag and stood right before him so he could see her full hourglass shape of a body. The crown of her head reached the middle of his chest.

Eric stood there right next to her for a second with his long black hair down to the middle of his back. He swallowed and bowed his head before he headed for the classroom door.

Christine then turned to him and the little smirk on his face, as if he was about to tell her a dirty joke.

“I do want to see you again, though,” he confessed to her once the three women behind her had left the room.

“Oh, do you now?” she asked him with a raise of her eyebrow.

“I do, yeah,” he replied: it was funny to watch him talk, given the left side of his mouth curled off to the side a bit, as if he had his mouth full of something on the right side. “What do you have next?”

“Well, I have study hall next and then I go to ceramics,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. “And then world history—I haven’t decided what I want my major to be yet.”

“Ceramics! That sounds like fun.”

“It is, too,” she told him, and all the while, she could feel the heat from his body, even if she only stood about six inches from him. He pressed his hands together before his chest as if he was about to say a prayer for her. “Between ceramics and history, I have an hour for lunch at one. And then after history, I go back home.”

“Lunch at one, you said?” he echoed her.

“Yeah.” She paused. “Why, you wanna join me?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“If you’d like me to,” he replied. “That boy next to you was looking at you like he wanted a moment with you, though.”

“Oh, him? I barely know the guy.”

“Well, you barely know me, too,” he quipped back.

“True. But you’re the one asking me, though.”

He squinted his eyes at her, and he couldn’t resist the smile on his face.

“I like you, Christine,” he said in a low voice. “I like you. You seem like you know what you want in life—even though you don’t know the whole story yet.”

“I guess that’s true,” she replied with a little tilt to her head.

“You better get a move on,” he quipped right then, and she turned to see a few students for the next period file into the classroom. He gently patted her on the shoulder before he turned away: his touch sent a shiver down her spine all the while.

“I didn’t catch your name, by the way,” she added to him.

“Alex,” he said. “Alex Skolnick.”

“I’m Christine Peck,” she replied.

“I have a friend, his name is Nathan Peck,” he followed up, and then he flashed her another wink.

“You never know, we might be related,” she said with another shrug and a smile to him.

“Run along, dear Christine,” he said to her. “I’ll be back before you know it.” And for a secret, she swore that he added to that in the form of a faint whisper on the back of the wind, “you are my sin. My dirty little secret.”

********************************

slight change of plans, i’ll be posting the fic with the accompanying illustrations on ao3 and my art blog, badgalnirvhannah, on march seventh. consider this a little preview of sorts: and yes, it’ll get hot up in here soon enough before you know it 😉😘

#as the seasons grey #as the seasons grey fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #chapter 1 #alex skolnick #testament #testament band #oc tag #new fic #ao3 fanfic #fic snippet #testament fanfic #text #alex my beloved

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harventheblorbo · 2 years

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Could I request Bridget and Testament (separate) cuddling headcanons with a transfem reader?

Bridget and testament cuddling with a transfem Reader! ➥

Containing;.. Bridget, Testament, and Transfem reader

___ is a Transfem

Warning;.. None

Bridget➥

She might be a little bad at it at first but she does warm up to the idea of cuddling with a Significant other. She definitely enjoys being little spoon at late nights, especially if you two can't sleep

I feel like she gets really warm fast so she might just throw the blankets off or toss them to you after waking up basically sweating bullets. Due to this, she only sleeps in oversized shirts (specifically yours) and shorts that are so short that you don't see them when she stands up.

She is super into day cuddling and would drag you into bed if she really wanted to cuddle. She sometimes do little naps with you during the day, especially if you or her has been working alot.

For her, waking up from cuddling is the worst thing ever. She does not want to leave your touch and basically clings onto you.

Testament➥

For them, it's INSANELY relaxing. They don't really mind what position they are in. As long as you are comfortable, they are happy. Whenever They ask you to cuddle, it's abit embarrassing since I feel like they may have never truly had a s/o that enjoyed cuddling.

But nonetheless, they are glad to do it and it's the best experience ever. One of their favorite thing to do is read one of your favorite books to you as you rest on them. And when they notice that you are pasted out, they quietly shut the book and just play with your hair.

I feel like they don't really enjoy taking naps so if you do, they might just stay awake until you wake up and admire how peaceful you look while sleeping or something along those lines.

Their pajamas are pretty simple, it's most likely sweatpants and a cozy tanktop. But due to this, in the summer they hate sleeping with sweatpants so during the summer, they switch to shorts and a tanktop.

#guilty gear fanfic #guilty gear strive #guilty gear x reader #reader insert #guilty gear imagines #guilty gear bridget #guilty gear testament

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hailmaryfullofmaggots · 11 months

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"Scraped knees, Back of heads"

...Arriving to the confessional, he only need slam the door behind him, crouch in the dark of the booth, find strange solitude. It knocking around him, throaty, as ships trapped in ice do. Him knowing the phrases writ by angels upon his hands and from His tongue spilt blood:

We pray to tired gods

that we'll be saved

because the son of

the one nailed above

left a long time ago.

Son above, son below

bruises on knees

it's why we're here,

begging.

To serve not he who preaches,

but humble sexton and the dirt

beneath his nail beds,

scraping at insides like fruit, like

scooping seeds,

God is fingers

pushed between baby teeth.

Made for it, He says,

pressed into necks,

fingers wrapped collars.

Not breathing back.

God is when bled,

red, wine-dark, stains on pavement

gray-white bathroom tile.

Sacrifice, Abraham's,

Sacrifice, His,

Little Savior, born of the Lamb,

smiling face stretched above

haloed, hallowed

Light.

Angels feared by men,

children loved by angels.

Quiet like soil, Quiet

like fucking church pews,

fucking

crushed velvet

and stained glass.

Tiny bodies hollowed out,

empty,

little coffins at the gold altar

on maple, on hickory

it was never going to be real.

Please

God.

Tell me it

wasn't real. Tell me

Bodies rot,

You're rotting

you can't stop that

you can't stop leaving.

The stranger hijacking your body

that's not your fault,

you're dying.

✟✟✟

"To serve not he who preaches,

but humble sexton and the dirt

beneath his nail beds,

scraping at insides like fruit, like

scooping seeds,

God is fingers

pushed between baby teeth."

Thank you for sharing, dear <3

i love the imagery i get of the Sexton digging at dirt with his hands —assuming we’re talking about the groundskeeper of a church and graveyard — and the twisted reverence that comes with it. a humility in tending to the earth and the dead, both in a sense the opposite of what a holy man preaches. in the world, not on the world; eternal life, safety from death, resurrection…

then the fruits. i can picture bodies, laying in these shallow graves, rib cages butterflied open. the groundskeeper with his dirt-covered hands wrist deep in the gore. there’s a sort of violation that comes with it. My mind goes to maggots and eggs as the seeds, breeding and planting and growing.

“bruises on knees

it’s why we’re here,

begging.

to serve not he who preaches…”

bringing in this, the idea of possibly begging the Sexton like you would a priest or God. serving him, even as a corpse, for whatever purpose. or the Sexton as the one serving or worshipping into the ground, in opposition to praising with arms raised toward Heaven.

and bruises on knees, ahh i love the variety of ways to use this. bruises implying the frequency or force by which one is kneeling. there is the sexual connotation to it, pleasuring someone, a sort of worship and submission — like God asks of his followers. wash his feet with tears and Know him.

my personal interpretation of course, but thank you so much for submitting your work in Confession <3

My flesh and my heart fail; But God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. - Psalm 73:26

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