#firagaproductions

[makapedia]

wip game - secret?

no secret in any of the things i’m working on! D:

[a-most-peculiar-mademoiselle]

firagaproductions replied to your post“RULES: Tag 20 followers you want to get to know better. (lololol not...”

why are we the same person like. same star sign. same height. similar orientations. similar fandom and tumblr things.

Whaaaaaat?! Really? That’s kind of uncanny! I guess birds of a feather really do flock together. And thanks for the follow! ^^

[queenamidarla]

how did you manage to achieve the best url on tumblr wtf

because i am the q u e e n

[polaroidcats]

tag fun

I was tagged by the lovely @domahoa to do this and tbh i was gonna be too lazy to do this but then i saw the question abt piercings and just the fact that i can now answer it with “helix” made me change my mind. i may be a bit too obsessed with my new piercing, deal with it world. (also go study! why are you on tumblr when you should be studying tsk tsk)

Bath or shower? i only have a shower but if i had a bathtub i’d definitely say bath! Straight or curly hair? nothing about me is straight Favorite movie? probably pride. idk man, i’ve only seen the movie like once but it seemed kinda good Favorite holiday? billie holiday Best year in HS? 3rd year because professor lupin taught DADA # of serious relationships(over 1 yr)? only with my cat Sleep with or w/o a fan? i would never sleep with a fan because it wouldn’t feel right to have someone sleep with me just because of my immense fame Android or iPhone? nokia from 2004 Texting or call? text talk  Facebook or twitter? tumblr Favorite type of food? chocolate Favorite pizza? chocolate Favorite cake? chocolate Talking or fighting? rap battles
 Night or day? twilight  Summer or winter? spring & fall Wine or whiskey? wine and whiskey Makeup or no makeup? depends on when i wake up and if i have time tbh 
Favorite TV show(s)?  currently obsessed with new girl. always obsessed with oitnb. just watched the first two episodes of the 100 and i cant tell if i wanna watch more or if it’s too much scary for me  Hair up or down? hair short! Jeans or leggings? #jeggings (no but like jeans in public, leggings at home for me) Painted or none painted nails? usually not painted but if they are i do it WITH EXTRA GLITTER so i can regret painting them when i wanna take it off Favorite color? rainbow and sparkles and unicorns T-shirt or dress shirt? no shirt is the best kind of shirt Flip flops or sneakers? winter boots, it’s freezing outside today Big purse or small? chaotic rucksack (i liked your answer so i kept it) How many tattoos? zero How many piercings? 6!!!! idk if the lobe ones count bc they’re boring but i’m way too excited abt my new ones! i got a helix recently and a 3rd lobe one and i have two ‘normal’ earring-piercings on both of my lower earlobes. (so much exctiement abt the helix piercing i cant deal!!) Diamonds or pearls? diamonds are a girl’s best friend Favorite animal? ella Rap or country music? i don’t really like the sound of music Sports or couch? sportscouch. couchsport. 

i tag the trahscanpeople aka @prongsyouignoramus, @firagaproductions and @moltensecrets to answer this too, as honestly or weirdly as you want. i also tag everyone else who wants to do this, the questions are actually fun and i even answered like half of them honestly. i’m just a bit hyperactive maybe ...

[makapedia]

the incubus babysitter

heeeeeey @firagaproductions / @soulevansvevo! i’m your secret santa ;) i went back and worth for a while on what i should write you, but then i remembered you said you wanted more in between stuff during my resbang and then fluff happened. ♥ THANKS FOR GIVING ME A REASON TO HOP BACK INTO INCUBUS SOUL MODE! i hope it’s still awkwardly charming. this takes place before they’re a thing <: 

#alcohol tw !!

-

“Wow,” Maka breathes, palm pressed flat against his, “your hands are so big.”

She’s just a smidgen too close, toes bumping against his as she wobbles on her feet. For a moment, as she laces her fingers between his and clasps their hands tight, smiling at him in gobsmacked wonder, he regrets letting Maka talk him into attending this damn party with him. College frat parties are not his scene, not even a little bit, but they’re even less hers and like hell he was going to let her attend alone, regardless of the fact that her brother is off somewhere doing a keg stand.

Apparently sacrificing his night to babysit her red plastic cup is well on the menu of things he would do for her. But still, he can’t get over how weird the whole thing is, seeing Maka in a crop top and shorts, hair loose, surrounded by drunk twenty-somethings as they holler and act generally uncivilized.

He squints at her. “Uh, thanks?”

“You have long fingers,” she says, marveling, shifting her weight onto her toes and pinning him in place. “They’re so pretty.”

“Weirdo. Fingers can’t be pretty. They’re just bones and skin.”

She blinks at him thoughtfully, lips pursing. “That’s all I am, too. Soul, am I not pretty?”

This party was a really really bad idea. It’s time for Maka to go home and tuck herself into bed, he thinks, instead of looking at him so intensely. Her gaze is burning and he nearly withers beneath her stare, so intent on learning the truth -- is she pretty, like that’s even a question -- but she’s drunk, and while it can’t dull her intensity, it can definitely fog up her senses. When he presses his free hand against her forehead and she leans into his palm, face rosy, he knows she’s had just a few too many.

:”I think it’s time to leave,” he says instead.

She puffs out her cheeks like a cute little chipmunk and wriggles. “Nooo, I want to dance! The night is still young!”

“Maka, you can’t dance.”

“Not with that attitude I can’t!”

“Let me reiterate: Maka, you shouldn’t dance. It’s past your bedtime.”

Maka pouts, spinning in his grasp just long enough to grab a hold of red plastic. The drink sloshes around as she struggles to press the lip of the cup against her lips. She slurps, not a lick daintily, and mumbles, “You’re such a mom,” into her drink.

From down the hall, someone screams, “CHUG!” followed shortly by, “TAKE IT OFF!” and Maka lifts her head long enough to stare determinedly at him. If the glint in her eye is any evidence, she’s ready to step up to the challenge, Maka “Stubborn As A Mule” Albarn style.

Oh hell no. If it’s about to get Girls Gone Wild up in here, he’s not going to let Maka be a part of it; not while she’s got alcohol in her system, not while there are so many greasy frat boys lurking around and eyeballing the way her ass looks in those high waisted shorts. Which is fantastic, by the way, but that doesn’t give them free reign to ogle her anymore than it gives him the right. Forcing a cleansing breath, Soul summons whatever strength he might have lurking in his hot demon bod and drags her toward the exit.

“Waaait--! Drink!” Maka gasps helplessly, cup teetering in her hand, cheap booze spilling over her pale thigh. “Soul!”

“Sorry,” he sighs, snagging her jacket off the coat rack. “Arms?”

Maka holds her arms up and, much alike a parent dressing a petulant toddler, Soul pulls the sleeves over her wrists, up her arms and onto her shoulders. Her arms drop to her sides as he zips her up.

“Why didn’t you drink too?”

He snorts, tugging his sleeve down and wiping her leg clean. “Not my scene,” he answers, which isn’t a lie -- but it also isn’t the whole truth, and the admittance that he can’t get drunk by human means of alcohol would probably kill her vibe. Besides, he’s never been one for drinking at parties anyway; control is something he quite values, and if she’s going to be buzzed, he feels much more comfortable being sober enough to walk her to the bathroom and scare dickbags away with a well aimed snarl.

She looks at him through her bangs, big green eyes watery. “You didn’t have fun.”

“I had the time of my life watching you try to dance on that table, thank you very much,” he admits, cracking a grin. Her drunk flush hues deeper, pinks and reds glowing beneath her faint freckles. “Getting you down, though, was another story.”

“I’mma good dancer,” she defends.

He holds up a combat boot. “Sure. Foot?”

Maka hobbles on one foot while he wrestles the other into her boot, strapping it in place and tapping her knee; she switches, hopping and wriggling to gather her balance while he attempts to squish her foot into the boot without unbuckling it, just to save time. “I wanted you to have fun too,” she says blearily, sounding oddly defeated as Soul sets her foot down and peers up at her. “You never do anything fun!”

“I beat Pokemon Red twice already,” he says defensively.

“No! You always stay home and take care of me.” She fidgets, tugging the hem of her shirt out. From his angle, he gets a open view of her stomach, firm abs and the color (plain, sensible white) of her bra. “It’s not fair to you! What do you like to do for fun, Soul? Next time we can do something you want to do.”

He stares anywhere but her belly button and stands up, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I have a good time licking the brownie batter off the bottom of the bowl, Maka.”

She sighs miserably. “I’m a bad friend.”

Wrong; she’s the farthest thing, but he can’t even begin to go into all the reasons why she’s the greatest thing since sliced bread in his books, so he shakes his head instead, holds out a hand to her and lets her lace their fingers again. Her skin is warm, flushed a healthy, hearty pink, and her hands are small but strong as she squeezes his palm to hers.

If only she knew all the ways she’s fantastic. He clears his throat, trying hard not to dwell on the way his stomach flutters as she rubs her thumb over his. Her companionship alone is more than enough to write home about -- but letting him stay in her house, putting up with him and calling him a friend makes her a star pupil. She’s done so much for him, between letting him hold her hand and offering him smiles that keep him warm and giddy; making sure she has a safe time is the least he can do to repay her.

He swings their hands playfully. She squints at him. “Nah, just a lightweight.”

“I am not!”

“You’re like ninety pounds. I think the smell of booze did you in.”

Nose curled, she shoves her cup of brobeer into his chest. “Think again! I matched Black Star, thank you very much!”

“A mistake,” he says, deadpan.

“At least I didn’t barf,” she sing-songs, giggling, finally, and wobbling over to lean her head on his shoulder.

Her body heat is more intoxicating than the beer drenching his shirt. He tries hard not to think on it and opens the front door instead, ushering her out into the brisk night air and scurrying down the front steps to help steady her before she stumbles down the front steps like a toddler. She holds out her other hand and he grasps her arms, heaving and lifting her over the threshold, just to place her safely on her feet at the bottom of the stairs.

Maka giggles more while he attempts to play it off like he hadn’t just broken a sweat lifting her because fuck, uncool.

“You’re so tall but you’re so weak,” she cooes. “Do you even lift?”

“I lift the weight of the headaches you give me, nerd,” he chuffs. Maka presses her face into the sleeve of his jacket and he exhales slowly, watching his breath puff out a foggy white. It’s so much easier to breathe now that they’re outside, away from the dubstep and cigarettes and smell of sex. Being just a little too aware of all the messing around going on around him is another unfortunate perk of being an incubus, and college parties are a jackpot.

On the bright side, he feeds off of sexual energy and the likes. If there’s a fresh spring in his step, he chooses to ignore it in favor of making sure Maka doesn't slosh through a muddy puddle. Might as well use all this excess energy to keep the lady clean and muck-free.

Walking her home is an adventure. Drunk Maka is a lot like a puppy, excitedly shouting at every little thing and attempting very valiantly to gallop down the road and say hi to a couple of scurrying chipmunks. Which, while laughable any other time, is worrisome because it’s dark and 11 PM is prime drunk driving hour.

It’s when he’s fishing her keys out of her jacket pocket and unlocking the front door that she asks again. “Am I not pretty?”

He can’t get the door open fast enough. “Uh?”

“Soul,” she muffles against his sleeve, pressing her cheek to his arm. “You never answered my question.”

“I, uh -- didn’t think I needed to?” he admits, stumbling with her through the front door.

Her boots track mud through the threshold and onto her otherwise clean carpet, staining pale blue with dirt and grime, Looks like he’ll be busy scrubbing the floors after tucking her into bed instead of unwinding with beginning another journey through Kanto, damn.

Insecurity isn’t a look he’s accustomed to her wearing. Maka thus far has been bold and tenacious, pushing his feet off of the coffee table and pushing back his hair as she checks his temperature. Up until now, he’s been so distracted by her (admittedly drool worthy) abs and the strength in her gaze that he hasn’t ever really noticed a moment where Maka might be unsure. Their friendship has always been so easy because she’s so gung ho, leading the way through crowded grocery stores with a hop in her step and pigtails bouncing accordingly.

But tonight she looks very young and very nervous, peeking up at him through her dusty bangs. He forces out a breath and wills himself to not fuck this up.

“... You’re not unpretty,” he admits awkwardly.

Her lip wobbles and Soul’s breath catches in his throat.

Please don’t cry, please don’t cry. There are a lot of things in this world that he’s terrible at dealing with and crying girls are very high up on that list, right under doing the sex and maintaining eye contact while holding a conversation.

“I mean!” he amends quickly, squirming in her grasp. “... Why do you ask?”

The way she blinks and stares down at her feet is both adorable and concerning, because it’s such a stark contrast to the brother-wrestling, incubus-saving Maka he’s come to know and adore. But he’s not deterred, and the funny feeling in his stomach that flourishes whenever she’s around doesn’t lessen any the longer he watches her worry. If anything, it only makes it worse -- it humanizes her, makes her more than just this idol-worthy figure in his life that yanks him out of bed and warms his heart. She’s a girl with feelings, multi-faceted, and when he leans down to level his gaze with her she bites her lip.

Her breath reeks of college-grade beer. It doesn’t lessen her appeal. Fuckitall.

“You’ve got pretty eyes,” he tells her quietly, hushed, maybe even a little shyly. “And a big heart. That’s the most attractive thing about you.”

Those eyes fill up with bashful glee and he has to stop himself from gathering her face in his hands and squeezing her cute cheeks. He loves her baby face, pudgy, pale cheeks and big, big eyes.

“You mean it?” she breathes in wonder.

He flicks her forehead fondly. “Only if you get your butt to bed before the clock strikes twelve, Cinderella.”

Maka breathes out through her nose moodily. “Can I have a hug?” she asks, sounding way too much like her brother while he tries to pick up girls. Fuckboy isn’t her best look.

“No,” he says, very seriously. There’s a long pause, and then, “You’ll get pregnant.”

He’s still chuckling about the way she gasped and cupped her hands over her mouth half an hour later, while on his hands and knees, scrubbing the mud out of her carpet.

[confundo]

I'm in school for international business/political science/philosophy. Always reading. Ridiculously ambitious. Scuba diver. Favorite colors are shades of blue and green. Kind of a social introvert.

Spell Cast

Protego Maxima- A powerful shield charm against dark magic. Was so powerful that it could also disintegrate people that came too close

Get yours here!

[auspiciousleader]

I cant fking figure out where ask buttons are now that messaging is a thing but anyway your word is breakfast

so my favorite breakfast is eggs and rice and i have no idea why, it’s pretty much fried rice but i still love it, esp with milk

[trashcanclub]

shoutout to firagaproductions for being my only follower <3 so thankful that my voice here is heard and that people share the trash culture love