#Titanic cemetery

[vox-anglosphere]

Titanic graves in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Many bodies were never found.

[sophiedoesherbest]

Ok hungarian au hungarian au

[nicknumber]

Grave of Titanic survivor Ida Sophia Hippach at Rosehill Cemetery

[thanos-the-dad-titan]

Spent the day with my girls finding a spooky Church and Cemetery that has a story about it. It's nickname is Munchkinland. And read on for the story behind it.

And yes in one of the pics is a fae ring we think. A very quiet cemetery this time.

[milotaart]

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

— I'm right here. I'm with you, Mikasa. And so that you don't feel cold... As he says this to her, he pulls off his red scarf to somehow fix the situation. — Mikasa...

— Hmm? — will raise his head up.

A gentle smile flashed across his face. In one movement, the scarf is placed on a thin snow-white neck. And she wasn't lying when she said she felt like a dead man—her skin was so icy that even Eren got goosebumps.

— It's warm, isn

't it?.. Warmth...

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

[courseyoulovemeyoudontknowme]

Remember the Titans (2000, Boaz Yakin)

18/11/2022

Remember the Titans is a 2000 film directed by Boaz Yakin, starring Denzel Washington, which narrates the true events of the american T.C. Williams High School in Alexandria, Virginia.

In 1981, a group of former American football coaches and players attend a funeral. Nearly ten years earlier, in the summer of 1971, at the newly integrated T.C. Williams High School in Alexandria, Virginia, Herman Boone, a black coach who was supposed to lead the black high school football team, is assigned to the coaching staff under current white coach Bill Yoast, who previously led the white high school and was named to the Virginia High School Hall of Fame.

On August 15, the players reunite and travel to Gettysburg College, where their training takes place. However, through vigorous training and rigorous athletic training on Boone's part, which includes a morning run to Gettysburg National Cemetery a motivational speech: the team achieves racial harmony and emerges a unified team.

Ten years later, Bertier dies in a car accident caused by a drunk driver after winning the gold medal in the shot put at the Paralympic Games. It is the revelead that it is his funeral attended by the former coaches and players, where Julius, while holding Bertier's mother's hand, leads the team in a sad rendition of "Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye". Coach Boone coached the Titans for five more seasons, and later retired, and Coach Yoast assisted Boone for four more years, retiring from coaching in 1990.

The film was released in US cinemas on September 29, 2000 and in Italian cinemas on April 13, 2001.

The direction of the Italian dubbing is by Giorgio Piazza, with dialogues by Mauro Trentini, on behalf of SEFIT-CDC.

The film was shot a Druid Hills High School, near Atlanta, Georgia.

The summer internship scenes were filmed at Berry College, Mount Berry, Georgia.

The film's premiere was held at the Rose Bowl Stadium in Pasadena, California.

[jossarisfoto]

Halifax | Rustplaats Titanic en Halifax-explosie slachtoffers

Donderdag, 23 maart 2023 | Ons bezoek aan de Fairview Lawn Cemetery in Halifax was een ontroerende en indrukwekkende ervaring. De begraafplaats staat bekend als de laatste rustplaats van vele slachtoffers van de ramp met de Titanic en de Halifax-explosie. De graven van de Titanic-slachtoffers zijn opvallend door de gelijke uitstraling. Alle grafstenen zijn van dezelfde grootte en hebben een…

[graphicpolicy]

Graphic Policy’s Top Comic Picks this Week!

Graphic Policy’s Top Comic Picks this Week! 11 comics to check out this week! #comics #comicbooks

Wednesdays (and Tuesdays) are new comic book day! Each week hundreds of comics are released, and that can be pretty daunting to go over and choose what to buy. That’s where we come in Each week our contributors choose what they can’t wait to read this week or just sounds interesting. In other words, this is what we’re looking forward to and think you should be taking a look at! Find out what…

[thegirlwiththelantern]

5 Books I Saved in May

There were only a few books that really stood out to me this month. But it was still hard to round it down to five. Don’t let the first book mislead you. These run the gamut of my reading Batcat, Vol. 1: The Ghostly Guest by Meggie Ramm | 28 / 03 / 23 – Abrams Books Batcat loves being all alone in their home on Spooky Island. Up in their tree house, they pass the time playing video games and…

[chixkencxrry]

crazy, crazy for loving you

Summary: Loss can make people go insane. (Yandere! Miguel O’hara x Yandere! Fem! Reader)

MINORS DNI

Warning: They’re both insane and a bit immoral. They are both very, very unstable people. This is a dark story of mutual obsession. (Mutual Non-Con Voyuerism, Mutual Masturbation, P in V, Swearwords, Mutual Stalking, Mutual Non-Con Spying, Oral (F receiving), Dark themes, Cockwarming) YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS ON YOU AND YOU ALONE!

When you see him, it's hard to keep your hands at your side and not run to him. It’s hard not to look at the man that wears your dead husband’s face and not weep like a baby. But you know it isn’t him. No, this man with the war in his eyes and fangs of a beast is not your Miguel.

But, God – God, did you wish it was. 

So, yes, you were quick to agree to be apart of his little operation. Quick clipping the gizmo onto your wrist. The Spiderman logo spread along your torso like some awful red target. He knew your name, but it was obvious that you didn’t exist in his world. If you had, you were sure they would have been together. No. The you of his world was dead, like the him of your world. It was darkly poetic. 

Lyla had taken a liking to you – his AI. She unintentionally helped you keep track of him; you didn’t stalk just keep track. 

Then it happened. The fine click that had truly sent your observing of Miguel corrupt into something else, something darker. 

Something had caused the collapse of your world. It was a war, much like the great Titan on EARTH-199999. Your world crumbled before you; you already didn’t have much left after the death of your Miguel but now you had nothing left. 

When the collapse of it came, you were not on the battlefield with the other Avengers. You had been in the cemetery, fingers clawing into Miguel’s grave – determined to bury yourself in there with him. The cold mud coated your hands and body, knee digging in. You were about two feet deep, mad with intent. 

“Y/N?”

The word stilled you. It was Miguel, you turned your head in a horrible hopefulness. Disappointment settled on your shoulders, in some half-mad frenzy, you’d thought it was your Miguel. But it wasn’t it was Miguel.

“Leave me alone.” you growled. “My world is dying.”

“You don’t have to.”

I died when you did.

“I’m right here, Y/N.”

“No.” you muttered, fingers in the dirt. “You’re below. I’m getting you out.”

A warm body dropped down, covering your back and pushing you forward. You wiggled and fought but felt a pinch at the side of your neck. Your mania subsided, a false peace overwhelming you. Before you knew it, you collapsed in the mud. 

It had taken weeks of manic behaviour. They had to sedate you to get you to calm down – barricade and and chain you to stop you from attacking. You’d gone mad. 

When Miguel came to visit you, you’d taken a turn for the better. 

“I heard you broke Spiderman 8077’s jaw.” Miguel doesn’t seem amused. He stands over you – through the fizzing cage that electrocutes you everytime you touch it. You can’t bring yourself to snarl or fight. You look at him – flesh, bone, hope. 

“He tried to make me forget.”

Miguel flinched. “He suggested something to help you sleep.”

“If I sleep, I forget him.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Miguel’s tone was soft and low. You closed your eyes and imagined being home in your apartment, the record player on and rain falling. Miguel dancing with you, dipping you low and laughing on your skin. 

The daydream dissolves when you hear the click of your cell open. His voice of stone ordered; “Lay down.”

Instinct, really – the way you move to the cot and wiggle until your back hits the wall. The bed shakes as Miguel’s massive frame sets itself on the bed. He held you, pulling you close. He smelt like your Miguel. Felt like him too. But were all rugged edges compared to the softness of the man you were married to. Your fingers threaded in his hair, snagging a few by accident to bring them to your nose. You tucked some strands into your suit. For later.

For the first time in years, sleep came to you with ease. With that ease came the confirmation of what a gift reuniting with this different Miguel was. You had a second chance. Now, it was time to make use of it. Properly.

***

Miguel had started watching you when your world collapsed and you’d transition to his universe. Now, it wasn’t that he hadn’t been stalking – following – shit – observing you before. He’d just wanted you to get used to the Universe first. Ensuring you had a good identity, a day job and income. 

You’d been grateful. So, very grateful.

He imagined that gratitude as something baser, raw and trembling. But he knew not to test the hand of fate. Yet he hungered for you. The devotion you’d shown to your husband, a version of him, was indescribably delicious. He wanted that for himself. Wanted you, all tears, all love. Each aspect of you a memorising thing; greed flooded him at the thought of claiming you.

It seemed like fate to offer you the guest room of his apartment. He hadn’t used it in years, and it was a waste not to let you in. You’d jumped at the opportunity – a perfect gift. You didn’t know what you were doing to him. Yes. Having you in his house, showering, eating, naked, open – mierda!

 He took a deep breath to cool himself down. You were still at the dorm quarters of HQ, significantly more sane than you were a week ago when the two of you first slept together. Your scent still lingered in his mind. Lilies and cucumbers, fresh and vibrant. Thick and rich, god – he wanted more of that. More of the security of holding you. More of having you have him. The feel of your body curled into his, the softness of your silk skin breaking the delicate thread of his self-control. 

Miguel looked at the room he’d allotted to you. Climbing to a corner to screw in a non-reflective camera. Getting you here was the first step and he was a patient man. Miguel had to make sure the apartment looked lived in. Making sure that some floorboards creaked, chipped at some paint on the walls, and ensured there was a leaky faucet in the guest bath.

His watch dinged. Fifteen minutes away. 

Lyla flickered into existence. “Wow. This violates so many laws.”

“Didn’t ask.” he grumbled, wrenching open a panel of the wall to place a listening device.

“You get that for free.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Anamolly on Earth-7834, they need backup.”

“There are thousands of other Spiders to call.” He placed a nail between his teeth, hammering the panel back on.

“Yeah, well, Y’N asked for you.”

That made him pause. Swearing, he hurriedly put the panel back and suited up, tapping his gizmo and falling into a different dimension. 

***

You only felt a little bad for deceiving Lyla. 

Sure, Miguel would probably be pissed when he found out that you had lied and made his AI lie to him with some clever coding but it would be worth it in the end when the two of you were finally together. You just couldn’t get out of HQ unnoticed without some sort of distraction. So, you figured what could be better than calling in a favour with a friend you’d made while traversing Universes? Felicia was more than willing to play the part, ever wanton for chaos. 

She helped you cause a minor anomaly which sent off enough of the Spiders off and allowed you to sneak into Miguel’s apartment. You looked for the master – the only room with a photo in it, one of him and his passed daughter. It broke your heart to know the pain he’d experienced. But you knew you were here now and more than willing to provide comfort and a new child. You’d even let him name the first one. 

You weren’t here for that. You were here to plant a few presents. Sticking to his bedroom ceiling, you planted a camera in the corner, near his closet. In his bathroom, by his shower and mirror – you planted another one. 

Time was limited. You knew the false alarm would only give you a short time. Before you left, you went through his closet, nose dug into his clothing and inhaling his scent. Sandalwood and oud. God, the earthiness sent a shiver down your spine. Unable to control yourself, you snatched a T-shirt and left through the window. You have five minutes left until your proposed arrival. Five minutes until Miguel consensually lets you into his home. 

Foolish boy.

If only he knew what you had in store for him. 

***

Miguel hurriedly returned home. Frustration laced his sojourn, as he tried to figure out just how Lyla had mistaken you calling out the anomaly of you being there and requesting his help. It was probably some bug. A minor thing he would fix after he greeted you. 

One minute left.

He was cutting it close, climbing through his window and showering as fast as possible. He hadn’t even had time to dry himself off when the doorbell rang, pulling clothes on with wet skin. 

“She’s here!” chimed Lyla, a little too cheerfully.

Miguel rolled his eyes. “No soy sordo, Lyla.”

When he opened the door, you were standing there with just two bags and a smile on your full lips. Eyes fluttering up at him with thick lashes and a soft look; “Hey.”

“Come in,” he welcomed without preamble. Miguel purposefully kept the space for you to pass narrowly. You were shorter than him and plush as you passed, buttocks jamming him slightly as you turned your back to pass in. Your toes shoved behind your feet to slip out of your shoes without him asking, he forgot for a moment that you knew him, even if it was another version. There were parts of himself you probably knew better than anyone did.

That made him excited. 

“Your apartment is lovely.” You said earnestly. “Where do I put my bags?”

He moved to you, taking the bags and walking ahead to lead you to the guest room. It wasn’t bad. A queen-sized bed and all other necessities for a room. Miguel gestured to the opened door, “That’s the bathroom.Might give you some trouble but you’re welcome to use me – I mean mine anytime.”

You didn’t seem to catch him fumbling – ayúdame dios – walking around the room to get a better view. In the dim light, you looked fantastic, the neon of the outside shining on your skin and the expanse of your perfect skin exposed in those tiny shorts you wore. 

Jealously bloomed in his chest. Had you fucking worn those on your walk here? How many people saw you? How many men had seen you in this way? Feral rage gripped him. Miguel set your bags down in the doorway, stepping back before he did something violent. 

“You eat yet?” the question came out as a snappish growl which seemed to startle you. He cringed. He didn’t want you to fear him – he just wanted you to know your place as his. 

Your brows furrowed. “You good, Miguel?”

“I’m dandy, princesa.”

A delicious blush bloomed on your skin. The honey was not enough to stop it from beaming forward. He wanted to drag his tongue down – to see how far this blush went. “I-I haven’t eaten yet.”

He smiled a slow, easy grin. “I’ve got some food in the kitchen. Eat with me?”

“Sure.”

Dinner went by slowly. Not in an awkward manner but it was agonising all the same. Agonsing to watch you sit across from him, agonising not to touch you, agonising not bit into your flesh and claw into your pussy with his hard cock. 

His patience wore thin but he maintained. 

The two of you had drinks afterwards, sitting on the couch until it grew too late. You yawned, hands stretching to the ceiling and pointed breasts jotting out through the cotton of your tank top. Your hoodie was abandoned somewhere. He eyed the pleasant curves of your body, the grooves that came from you being Spider-Woman and the softness that came from your natural figure.

“I’m gonna take that shower.” You announced. “Thank you for letting me stay with you, Miguel…I really appreciate it.”

Could you appreciate it with your mouth around his cock? “Of course. Anything for you. Y/N.”

You smiled prettily scampering off into your room. Miguel wasted no time in heading to his own, pulling up a camera feed from your bathroom. He sighed, watching you undress. You were humming along to something, hips shaking and hands running down your body. 

He raised his hips, shoving his sweatpants down. His half-hard length plopping out. Fingers encircled the base, rubbing up and down as he watched you move. 

You stepped into the shower and he switched the cameras. You sodded your body up, perfect nipples hard and hand slipping between your thighs. You rubbed yourself frantically. Rolling your nipple under your palms as you humped your fingers. 

Miguel turned the volume up, his own cock coated in his special essence as he watched you. His hand became frenzied, tighter as it took him closer to an orgasm. His peak came as your voice sounded the last thing he expected to hear. 

His own name. 

“Meirda…Y/N…you want me too, baby?” He coated himself, groaning as you slumped on the video. You shook off your climax and finished showering, stepping out with a glow. He restarted the video, turning the volume louder – thankful for his soundproof room. 

The knowledge that this wasn’t one-sided set something off in him. He threw his head, stroking himself from top to bottom. Desire coiled in his belly, like a snake ready to pounce.

Who was he to deny your wants, princesa?

***

Your fingers rapped on Miguel’s door somewhere close to midnight. You’d timed it perfectly. Your fearless leader hardly slept anyway so you were sure you wouldn’t be intruding. After all, you were sick? Weren’t you? The pills weren’t working, you needed to sleep. You hadn’t slept properly since that night. Lies concocted to make it all work. You just had to maintain your facade of innocence. 

You smiled, thinking of Miguel’s little performance for you on your camera. You’d seen him stroke himself over and over at some random video feed. You saw his thick seed spurt out. Saw the girth of his length twitch to life. Fuck. You wanted that. 

“Y/N?” Miguel’s voice was hoarse with sleep. You softened your face and frowned. “Did I wake you up? I’m so sorry…I just couldn’t sleep and you’d helped me that night…”

Ever generous, he opened his door wider to let you in. He’d changed form his earlier sweatpants. No doubt it was covered in his own spunk. A shame, really. “Of course, come inside. I’ll get another blanket for you.”

“Oh no.” You showed him the lilac blanket you’d brought with you from HQ. “I have my own.”

“Hmm.” He led you to the bed and slipped behind you to spoon you as easily as he had that night. You hummed, wiggling against him. You made sure to throw your blanket on both of you. You heard Miguel groan behind you, his body shifting and arms holding you close.

The synthetic material was interwoven with your pheromones, wired to set Miguel off. That night he had slept with you, you had plucked hair enough to get his DNA to pattern it so that it made him rut like a beast in heat. It was a chance you were taking. It would only work if Miguel wanted you too – if only a little You grinned, smiling as your payment boiled up. Miguel would be yours, it was what was best. 

Even if he didn’t know it yet.

Hours passed. You laid awake listening to him torture himself. Your patience grew thin. Why didn’t the idiot just hold you down and fuck you yet? “Miguel?” You whispered. “Everything alright?”

He murmured in Spanish, nothing clear enough for you to even hear. His hand, large and spanning, set itself on your hip. 

You ground your ass into his crouch. “Miguel?”

“Cállate princesa,” he growled in a tone that made your toes curl. An excited smile spread across your face. “I need to take a walk.”

That made your smile drop. “Now? It’s so late.”

He didn’t say anything, his weight lifting from the bed as he went to hurriedly dress. His back turned to you as he tried to be modest. Your eyes dropped to his round ass. Was he really going to go out and fuck some bitch after you did all the work? Not on your watch. 

“Miguel,” you dropped your tone, low and purring. “Come back to bed.”

He turned his head, eyes red as they flickered over you. “I don’t think that’s wise.”

Was he afraid of losing control? How adorable. You sat up, letting the blanket fall from you, the muscle shirt that was three sizes too big fell off your arm exposing an entire breast to him. You were being desperate but you’d be damned if he wasn’t going to rearrange your guts tonight.

He paused, staring at you. You almost grinned. That seemed to do it. 

He dropped the t-shirt he held and crawled over to you, pressing his forward to your as he inhaled your scent. “Tell me this is real.”

Oh.

You desperate thing. How I will devour you, How I will keep you. “It's real. I need you, Mig. I want you.”

His lips slammed onto yours. Tongue piercing the seam of your lips to kiss you fully. His hands pawed at your body, grabbing and groping at everything. Your sleep shirt was ripped in half as he claimed total access to your body. Your hands touched him everywhere, settling on the hump of his buttocks, pulling it close to your hips. You rubbed your bare crouch against his sweat, humping him with blind need. 

Miguel pushed you back, your head hitting a pillow as you watched him take his cock out. The fat, beautiful thing you’d been dreaming about riding since you met him. There wasn’t anytime for preamble – you wouldn’t suck the beautiful thing just yet. 

He stroked himself for a moment, red eyes boring into you as he lowered his face between your legs. Miguel ate you sloppily. Lips smacking and tongue licking, he sucked your swollen clit, pressing his index in and out of your weeping pussy. 

You gripped his head, arching your back as your thrust your hips up, truth spilled from you: “Eat me so good, Miguel. Fuck, you don’t know how long I wanted this.”

He was too busy enjoying his meal to respond. The lewd noises making you tremble as much as the act. Miguel’s fangs brushed against your folds, before he fucked your pussy with his tongue, pressing his dampened fingers to rub your clit as he licked your insides. 

Clenching around his head, your mouth spewed all manner of dark desires, the height of your arousal squirting all along his face. Words failed you as he continued to worship your pussy with his mouth and fingers. 

He raised his head for a moment. His left hand cupped your tit for him to suck while his other fingered you to your second orgasm. Thumb rubbing your clit in precise circles as he bit and sucked your areola. Faster than the first, you mewled your orgasm out on his fingers. Miguel let your nipple fall, watching you as he sucked his fingers dry. He sat on his hunches, leaning back as you writhed, quivering pussy begging for more. Begging for his cock. 

“You look pretty like this princesa, pretty falling apart in my bed for me. You want me to fuck you now? Want me to spread this pussy wide? Want me to make you fucking bawl? Beg for it, baby.” His face read of cruelty while his lips purred to you. You watched helpless as Miguel looked down on you. One of his hands stretched forward to your wanting hole and slapped it. You whimpered. He grinned and slapped it again. 

“I want you to know something before I fuck you,” he whispered, leaning forward, mushroom tip brushing along the seam of your slit. “You’re mine, princesa. You’re my puta. My perra, zorra. Mi amor. Mi todo. And I’m greedy, so when I fuck you – know that it's all over. I become your world and you become mine.”

You bit your lip. The words fell like poetry in your haze: you were truly made for each other. Did he even know how perfect he was for you?

“Ye…s.” You croaked out. “Yes, Miguel.”

His hips snapped, bottoming out into you so hard you screamed against his laughter.

***

Was this heaven?

Miguel had long since thought he was banned from such a place. Long since thought salvation was removed from him. But right now, while he held your waist and fucked his cock into you – he knew he had found it. You looked divine. Your mouth agape and hands rubbing all over him. Your breasts, bounced and full as he made his mark in you. He wanted every groove of his cock known by your pussy. His cock was to be imprinted, moulded into you. You were to know no other but his by the time he was done fucking the common sense out of you.

“My pretty cock dumb, princesa.”

You hummed, heels digging to his ass as his hips snapped. You squeezed him tight but he knew he was leaving marks on your body as he fucked you into his mattress. “Gonna keep you on my cock every day. You'd like that wouldn’t you, perra?”

“Love t-that.” Nails scrapped his back. “G-Gonna cum.”

He could feel that in the tightening of your pretty cunt. The slimy stickiness of your desire echoed in the room, he pinched your nipple making you cry out. “I know, princesa. Do that for me. Cum on my cock.”

Miguel felt your climax, wet and whimpering. You cried beneath him, overstimulated as he fucked you. He fondled your breast once more, hand going between the two of you. He rubbed your sensitive clitoris, smirking as you moaned from the ache. “Good girl. So pretty crying like that. Think you can go again?”

You shock your head, tears forming in your eyes. He felt his balls grow tight but kept at your clit. You shuddered at another shockwave. Finally, he thought leaning forward to cover you until your breasts smashed against his chest. His own release came, loosening the taut feeling that had centred his whole body. Miguel’s hips jerked, making sure his seed took its rightful place in you. 

When he tried to roll off, you kept him on. He looked at you questioning.“Don’t want any to drip out just yet.”

“No chance of that,” he muttered, kissing your neck. His hips jerked, as he found himself in a slow rhythm. “I’m not nearly done with this pussy yet.”

***

“I don’t think I’ve ever visited this universe.” you pointed out at one of the monitors. It was an Earth without a Spider-persona filled with cannibals. 

 Miguel looked to your side and grimaced. “Fuck no.”

You rolled your eyes. “What’s the sense of me being here if not to go to unknown places?”

Miguel huffed, hand sneaking under the skirt of your dress. “Princesa, you came here because you saw me talking to a female Spider-persona and then insisted on warming my cock for the rest of the afternoon.”

“So?” You waved your hand. He was lucky you didn’t her to that universe. Perky little bitch was looking a little too googly-eyed at him. “Maybe I was bored. You ever thought of that?”

“You can always go back out on the field.” He suggested.

You snorted, rolling your hips to make him hiss. His cock twitched, surrounded by your leaking cunt. “The last time I went on a mission I thought you were going to kill my poor partner.”

“He was being a little too friendly.” 

“Honey,” Miguel’s hand slipped inside the front of your dress, popping out your full breasts as he slowly rocked up into you. “Peter from Earth-997845 is very much engaged to Johnny Storm.” You wouldn’t mind going out again but you were so comfortable living simply with Miguel and helping him manage HQ. Who was he even talking to? He hadn’t gone on a mission for the months you two had started seeing each other either.

“You’re a hyp–” he stood up, making you bend over the desk, your breasts hitting the cool metal, he pressed the side of your face down as he slowly plunged in and out of you. “–ocrite.”

“Me?” He grunted, hands going up and down your sides as he took his time dragging his cock. “You’re the one who assaulted me in my office just so you could fill it up with your scent. You don’t think I know your tricks, zorra?”

You grinned, working your hips to meet him. “You better make me squirt a few times – just to make sure the scent takes then.”

Miguel chuckled above you, his talons ripping open your dress as he made good on your challenge. 

MASTERLIST

I'll probably make this a reoccurring thing. Hope you guys liked part 1. Reblogs and comments are nice.

[fluentmoviequoter]

hiiiii ♡ would be able to write something where reader is Jason Todd's girlfriend, friends to lovers situation so they've known each other a long time but she doesn't know about any of the vigilante stuff, And one day she's late making her way back to thier apartment but Jason is also making his way home but he's still in all the Redhood gear and reader bumps into him and is absolutely terrified out of her mind like just in complete terror of him. And she runs home and locks the doors and the windows and is a little shaken up. Jason finally arrives home obviously not as redhood lol And anyway he has to comfort her and just how would he react knowing that he scared the shit out of her and that she's this much afraid of redhood

Hi!! Of course! This is my first Jason Todd request and I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart!! I love him so much and this is an incredible idea. I added my own spin to the ending, but I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!🤍

Warnings: angst, fluff, Dick Grayson is nosy

Word Count: 2.3k+ words

A/N: This isn't a specific adaptation/characterization of Jason Todd, but I do mention that he's built like a brick wall, so it's probably not Titans!Jason. The gif fit, though, so. If anyone has more Jason Todd requests, please send them!

Masterlist | DC/Jason Todd Masterlist | Request Info

The Man Under the Hood

“Are you going to tell her?” Dick asks, raising his gloved hand for Jason to hit.

“I don’t know,” Jason grunts between punches.

“She stayed through everything else.”

“We were friends then, it was different.”

Dick drops his hands, and Jason sighs, lowering his guard. Jason raises his eyebrows, preparing for one of Dick’s infamous lectures.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do,” Dick begins before laughing at Jason’s surprised look. “I’m really not, but you’ve known her for a very long time. Just, don’t wait too long, because then it just looks like you don’t trust her.”

“It was different for you. Nightwing wasn’t feared. Telling her that I’m Red Hood tells her that I’ve done things that- that most people never consider.”

“She loves you. As you make the decision, just remember that.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Growing up in Gotham and playing in the streets (even when you shouldn’t have) introduced you to Jason Todd very early. He quickly became your friend, and when you lost him, you were finally ready to admit you loved him. But it was too late. The feelings that you were trying to navigate multiplied tenfold, and every time you pass his grave, they come back to the surface.

The cemetery is on your way home, and sometimes you can’t help but walk in. You can navigate to his headstone with your eyes closed, and everything else drifts away as you stare at his name.

“There’s a joke about the morbidity of this somewhere, I just know it."

Two large hands land on your waist, turning you around and pulling you into a kiss that takes your breath away. Breaking the kiss, you wonder what life would be like if Jason had never disappeared.

“Sorry,” you murmur. Kissing Jason is new and still catches you off guard, like you’re dreaming.

“Don’t apologize,” Jason whispers, brushing his fingers across your cheekbone. “Of all the places to hang out,” he adds with a bright smile.

“Why didn’t Bruce get it taken down?”

Jason shrugs. “The reminder? The idea that something else could happen. I really don’t know,” Jason half lies. He isn’t ready to tell you that he really did die and is happy to let you think it was just a ransom kidnapping gone wrong.

“What?” you ask, pressing your palms against his chest. “You disappeared into that pretty head again.”

“I’m just glad we’re finally more than friends,” Jason says, pressing his lips to yours.

“Me too,” you reply against his lips.

You’ve been friends much longer than lovers, so spending time together is not new, but being able to touch, kiss, and tell him what you feel is. While you think about how much you like the newness, Jason struggles to decide when or if to expose who he is.

He trusts you; he does, but he doesn’t want to scare you away or put a target on your back. Nightmares about you finding out and leaving while he’s gone plagued him for months after returning to Gotham and seeing you again. 

“Do you have to go back to the manor yet?”

Jason shakes his head, looping an arm around your shoulders. “You’re stuck with me for a few more hours.”

“Oh no.”

Jason pulls you against his side, smiling as he kisses the top of your head.

Not yet, he decides. Not never, just not yet.

✯✯✯✯✯

Jason feels Dick’s eyes on the side of his mask, a distorted sigh leaking out.

“What do you want?” he asks.

“You didn’t tell her,” Dick – Nightwing – accuses.

“We’re kinda in the middle of something here, Wing.”

“They can wait. Right, criminals?” Dick asks over his shoulder.

“Sure,” one of them answers, a batarang through his jacket keeping him stuck to an alley wall. “Take your time.”

Dick raises his hands to ask, “Why?”

“I thought you weren’t going to tell me what to do,” Jason sighs.

“Changed my mind. Look, I obviously understand the purpose of secret identities, but you love her, and she deserves to know.”

“You haven’t told your girl?” the thief asks. “Why not?”

“Shut up,” Jason growls through the hood.

“What are you really scared of?” Dick whispers before turning away.

Jason and Dick leave the criminal in the alley when police sirens approach, finding a rooftop to wait on. Gotham is never quiet for long, and breaks on patrol are few and far between.

“I’m going to tell her,” Dick announces. “Not about you. About me. Maybe that will convince you.”

“Don’t.”

“Jaybird.”

“Don’t ‘Jaybird’ me, Dick,” Jason argues, standing and pacing. “You don’t understand what I’m dealing with here. You tell Babs you’re Nightwing and she says, ‘Oh, wow, thanks for keeping us safe.’ I tell the woman that I love that I’m Red Hood and her first thought is the duffel bag fiasco, or the suicide spike at Arkham, nothing about me being a savior.”

“Everyone in Gotham knows that you’re not like that anymore. Besides, knowing that you did something bad isn’t a make-or-break situation.”

“Begging for forgiveness won’t do much if she leaves while I’m on patrol.”

Dick tilts his head toward Jason. “You’ve thought about this.”

Jason flexes his arms as he links his hands behind his neck. “Every time I consider doing it, I have a nightmare about her leaving.”

“You’re letting a nightmare control you, Jay.”

“Just- give me a little time, Dick. I can protect her from everything without telling her. Me included.”

“What if she doesn’t want to be protected from you? What if she wants you as you are?”

✯✯✯✯✯

Jason can’t remember the last time he was this tired after patrol. Damian had too much sugar or something and drug Jason all over Gotham. He needs to see you, and as Red Hood makes his way through the streets of Gotham, Jason keeps his mind on you, prepared to ditch the helmet and hold you until he can’t anymore.

Meanwhile, you’re walking home from work. Jason likes to be on the phone with you while you walk alone, but it’s late, and he’s probably at a family dinner. Looking down at your phone, you have a short message from him, but before you read it, you walk into what feels like a brick wall.

Gloved hands grip your biceps to keep you upright, and when you look up, you see the infamous Red Hood looming over you. Your mind wavers between fight and flight as you try not to scream, leaning away with wide eyes. You swallow harshly, and the eye slits of the mask fix themselves on your face.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You flinch back at the sound of his voice, and his hands immediately fall away from you. Falling back, you catch yourself on your hands and scoot backward, terrified of what he’ll do to you. Red Hood has been working with the bats and birds, but the memory of what he was like before still looms over Gotham like the rain clouds that never dissipate.

He steps back, moving his hand toward his belt, and you gasp, freezing where you are.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, standing slowly. “Please don’t hurt me.”

It’s Red Hood’s turn to freeze, and unknown to you, Jason is falling apart under the mask. The pure terror in your eyes is the exact thing he’s been trying to keep you from.

“It’s okay, it’s my fault,” he rushes to say, leaving his hands where you can see them. “I’m not going to touch you.”

You nod slowly, moving backward as you clearly don’t believe him. Once you reach the corner, you turn and run. If he wanted to follow you, he could do so with no problem, but you don’t spare a glance over your shoulder as you run as fast as you can toward your home.

Jason’s shoulders drop as he watches you run, beating himself up for everything: for not telling you, for scaring you, and for putting you in this position. He can’t tell you now; he missed his chance, and there’s no way you’ll want him. His nightmare is coming to life around him, and he can’t wake up.

Your phone is lying on the ground, and Jason stoops to pick it up, slipping it into his pocket. Maybe you’ll still want to see Jason tonight. If someone like him can be so lucky.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your keys slip from your fingers several times as you struggle to unlock your door. Panting and blinking quickly to keep your tears from falling, you finally open the door, and once you're inside, slam it behind you and lock all three deadbolts.

Leaning against the door, you slide down it and hug yourself, wishing you had picked up your phone. You want to call Jason; you need him, but hopefully, he’ll come over when he can.

Something flies past your window, and you leap to your feet, walking through every room to ensure all the windows are locked. 

✯✯✯✯✯

Jason takes his time following you. He can move quickly, especially for a guy his size, but after seeing how you looked at Red Hood, at him, he’s more than happy to go a little slower. Taking the long way, he drops his stuff off at his place, keeping your phone in his pocket.

As he walks, he wonders what to say or do to convince you to stay. Sure, you were terrified of Red Hood, not Jason Todd, but the two are not mutually exclusive and never will be. Part of him wants to take Dick’s advice and tell you, but the idea of it not working (or ending like he thinks he will) makes the decision impossible.

He takes a deep breath before knocking on your door, and when there’s no answer or footsteps inside, he hits the door again, saying your name.

“It’s me,” he adds.

Your footsteps sound before three deadbolts click. Opening the door, you move into the hallway to hug Jason tightly. He returns the hug, pulling you up against him as he carries you inside and closes the door behind him. Flipping all the deadbolts, he knows he can keep you safer than they ever could, but that requires trust. Trust from you and from him.

As you cling to him, his heart is torn between leaving you before he scares you again or comforting you all night. When you adjust your grip on him, pressing your cheek against his pec just above your heart, Jason decides to stay. 

If she’s this afraid of Red Hood, what will she do when she finds out who he is? Jason wonders.

Pushing the thoughts away, Jason holds you close, rubbing his hand up and down your back while the other rests against your hip. The weight of his arms against you is comforting, and you focus on his heartbeat and the sound of his voice.

“You’re alright,” he whispers, his voice rough. “Take a few deep breaths.”

You do as he says, attempting to match your breaths to his. It takes several minutes, but your heart rate slows as your breath evens out.

“Thank you,” you say, moving your chin against his chest to look up at him.

He smiles, though his lips stay together, and it’s not as big as usual, running a hand over your hair.

“Can I- can I talk to you about what happened?” you ask, leaning into his touch.

He nods, and something akin to dread flashes through his eyes. You write it off as nervousness that you were hurt or threatened, which wouldn’t be unbelievable in Gotham.

“I was walking home, I got off late but didn’t want to call you and bother you.”

Jason wonders how different things would be if you had called, but rather than interrupting, he nods to acknowledge he’s listening.

“Then I turned into an alley, and I bumped into Red Hood. And, I mean, I know he’s not the same as when he first arrived in Gotham.”

Hope blooms in Jason’s chest at your words.

“He works with Batman, and Nightwing, and the rest of them, and they’re good. I’ve heard from my coworkers who live in the Hill that he’s making a difference, for good, but,” you trail off, looking away from Jason as you shatter his hope that you see a different side of Red Hood. 

“But what?” he asks quietly.

You shrug, and Jason takes the opportunity to move. He pulls you with him as he sits up, tugging you into his lap as you look up at him. His arms wrap around your waist as his fingers brush up and down against your side.

“I think the reason he scared me so much is that there’s no way to tell what he’s thinking. The rest of them, you can see part of their face, but he hides everything. And he’s just so big, I looked up and felt so small that I knew if he wanted to hurt me, he could.”

He would never hurt you, Jason thinks.

“I guess I didn’t like being in that position where I knew he could do anything but had no way of knowing if he would.”

Jason leans back toward the back of the couch. The fear that you’re expressing is based on reasons that apply to him, the man under the mask.

“You got scared because he’s so big? And unreadable?” Jason clarifies, applying the adjectives to himself.

Your eyes are fixed on him, dropping to his shoulders and waist quickly, looking at his build (and noticing the shape of a phone in his pocket, aware that he set his to the side to hold you) before you hum. “Kinda like you,” you muse quietly.

Jason’s brows furrow, and you move your arms, causing Jason to drop one arm to his side.

You watch his movement, then look into his eyes. You lean toward him and smile, cocking your head as you ask, “But you can protect me. Right, red?”

[sabertoothwalrus]

predictions for rest of Owl House season 3

I can't see an ending to this show not somehow creating a permanent bridge between the Human and Demon Realms, but how are they gonna get there? I think the answer is in...

✨The Stars✨

One of the first things that brought this to my attention was in Reaching Out, when Luz & Amity send a flower into the sky, and it's directly paralleled by Camila's flower vase:

Amity: Do you think they'll reach the Human Realm? Luz: Probably doesn't work that way, but... it's a nice thought, right?

Now, in Thanks to Them, we have TWO scenes where Luz literally reaches for the stars (the sun a clear reference to the Collector), MULTIPLE shots of light spells floating upwards (into the sky), Gus and Hunter discussing space travel, and the very last shot of the special itself panning up from the cemetery portal to the night sky.

But, how DO they reach the stars? I highly doubt this show would go towards a literal space travel route. I think, obviously, the Collector is a part of it, but I think it's also a matter of someone getting high enough to reach.

Perhaps maybe.... as tall as a titan?

Clearly, there's a lot of shared history between titans and the Collector. And titans themselves have their own fair share of celestial imagery:

(notice the titan skeleton LITERALLY BEING AS HIGH AS THE PLANETS AND ASTEROIDS)

Perhaps this is why the titans and the Collector have been at odds. Maybe, the titans could use the stars to travel, and for whatever reason, the Collector didn't like that.

And if titans can travel through the stars, it might also solve the mystery of King's mother's whereabouts.

We know the Boiling Isles titan is King's father. And the Boiling Isles is OLD. The Hecktaceous Period is a really vaguely ancient era that doesn't directly parallel one specific era on Earth, so it's hard to put a time frame on it. Either way, all life on the Boiling Isles evolved FROM the Boiling Isles, and did not exist prior.

But..... Bill saw a titan somehow? Bill isn't from the Boiling Isles, and he's old, but it seems unlikely that he's older than literally all life on the Boiling Isles. And King HEARD a titan, who roared, "son". King is about 8 years old, but we don't know how long he was in his egg before he hatched.

It SEEMS implied that "the last titan" the trappers were after was supposed to be King, but that might not necessarily be the case...

Bill: But if you think Belos is evil, you've never seen a live Titan. The children out there haven't either. [The trio looks outside the window, but Hooty notices something to his right and stretches towards that direction. Cut to the King lookalike demons cheering at him as he stands in front of a waterfall.] Bill: Don't know a thing about their ravenous appetites, or their terrible cries! Even their babies act like little monarchs. The last living Titan, I saw it once before it disappeared. Its hateful roar blew out my eardrums. How did it go? "Weh!"

Bill: [Rolls up his sleeve.] You like our disguises? [Takes off his glove to reveal a hand.] You gotta look like a Titan to trap one. [Puts on his glove back.] But if I ever find that missing Titan, I'd hunt it down, tear it limb from limb, and mount its head in pride as we release the Huntsman! Then... we can finally go from being Titan Trappers to Titan Slayers! Say, who's your buddy's tailor? His costume looks so real!

it sounds to me like there's a titan Bill saw that isn't the Boiling Isles or King.

And if you look back at the mural of the trapper fighting a titan, the titan is depicted with a longer face than what the Boiling Isles actually has. Maybe.... *that's* King's mother?

So, where did she go? The stars? But if they connect to the Human Realm, where would she be?

Funnily enough, in Connecticut (you know, the state Luz is from), there's geological structure called The Sleeping Giant.

Just a thought.

[jjkeremika]

it is hot (with you; love you)

description: eren and mikasa make love in a hot spring… that is all…

pairing: eren x mikasa, eremika (aot, snk)

universe: og/original

**smutty**

Eren found peace in the hot springs, often spending his free time hiking well within Wall Maria to the hot spring, sauna and spa resort in the mountains.

A small cabin complex for weary travelers, wedged into the side of the mountain, small pools of hot water scattered, isolated. The long trees and tall rock structures surrounded the spring like a cocoon, wooden planks imitating walls creating roof-ed structures.

Eren would sit naked on the smooth wooden surface, let the steam tickle his skin with a warm embrace. The hot dewy air made it easier to breathe, easier to bear the reality and responsibilities of this world. The bright shine of the near-setting sun on the water highlighted what little beauty was left to enjoy, made it more difficult to close his eyes on it.

He heard a splash and ignored it, keeping his eyes closed and breathing meditatively, spacing out his breath into three intervals of five seconds: five second inhale, five second hold, five second exhale. He was always alone here, the splashes always being a small animal or a twig falling in.

Being lost in the crystal-clear air of the mountains had its perks, one being that rarely did he encounter anyone. No one to ask who he was, why he was there, where he was going to, who he was running from. He never had an answer for those questions, or at least never a good one.

Never having to introduce himself, never having to actively be himself... The feeling erupting in his chest, like he had been uplifted from the ancient curse, like the weight of eternal and immortal expectations had dissolved like acid kissing skin... A taste of freedom.

It could only be made better with the company of select friends, the presence of certain family, the close shared proximity with the love of his life.

He thought of her... of leaving her behind. It was inevitable, and he was searching through his dreams for some solution to stop it, to live on by her side. His attempts felt futile, and as he sat in the most beautiful place alone, wondering if maybe he’d end up wasting the rest of his time cluelessly searching for a way to extend it, instead of spending it with her and everyone else too.

He used his forearm to wipe the water droplet from near his chin. Another perk of the sauna is, if it was hot enough, the sweat was indistinguishable from the tears.

*********

Eren had been feeling particularly dirty today and he'd had an awful premonition that were getting more horribly more vivid and despite Erwin and Hange's disapproval Levi still used Eren as titan-target practice. So it was a long day, and he really wanted nothing more than to hurry to the hot springs.

But Mikasa had insisted on visiting the replacement graves for their parents today, citing that it might be the last time in a while before they can visit again, and only Eren knew just how correct that statement was.

They were silent on the walk there, their bodies actively fighting the magnetic pull between their fingers as they walked.

At the grave site, they had become aware of the temperature drop, and Mikasa started shivering slightly, her muscles too fatigued from training to resist the cold.

He draped his sweater over her arm, his hands lingering on her shoulders as he thoughtfully placed the fabric in a way to keep her warm. The touch from his hands was warm enough, the area instantly heating up her skin and radiating throughout her body.

It was the walk around the cemetery, no particular destination, when Mikasa finally broke the silence: "How are you doing, Eren?"

He stopped walking momentarily, the question catching him off guard. He thought about what he was doing all the time; never how he was doing. Did he even want to burden her with that?

Was there any point in lying? This was Mikasa, she knew so much about him she could likely tell if he were lying from the sound of his voice.

And yet she trusted him so deeply she’d also reject that.

She stopped a couple paces in front of him and turned to face him. He debated how much to divulge. The details were long and nuanced and boring and he was still sorting them out.

“I'm... adjusting," Eren answered neutrally after pondering. Mikasa eyed him carefully, squinting as the final ray of golden light struck her face, lighting up her eyes.

He smiled lightly as he stared her, heat erupting from the center of his chest and spiraling out like an untamed fire. He suppressed the forming tears in the corner of his eyes, blinking them away. He always did think she was beautiful. He never told her that.

Maybe he should tell her that. "I'm happy right now." He smiled softly. With you.

She turned around to face ahead. She was skeptical, but she also doubted that skepticism, leaving her at a crossroads. He felt the stinging signal spread to his tear-glands, forcibly swallowing to take his mind off the sensation. "That's good. Maybe we should visit here more." She started walking again.

Maybe it was because deep down he wanted her to know that despite everything, he was still human, and he still needed joy and relief to survive; maybe it was because he wanted the most serene place in the world to be her surviving memory of him; maybe it was because the weight of the world was crushing him and the strongest soul in existence stopped in front of him and he so desperately didn't want to be alone.

Eren took a rushed couple steps and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to a stop and causing her to twist her body to face him. "I want to take you somewhere. Come with me."

He didn’t wait for a response, just started leading without looking back to see if she truly stayed. She followed Eren to the mountains obediently, asking questions at first but stopping after becoming frustrated with Eren's cryptic answers. This place was sacred, exposing this place meant exposing his remaining solitude, his last freedom. Or maybe she'd be the spoon making it easier to taste.

When they'd finally arrived, Eren quickly rushed Mikasa through the main entrance and out the back. Mikasa was confused as there was little time to process her thoughts and surroundings, but she was amazed at how comfortable Eren was here, that alone was strikingly obvious.

He brought her to his most frequented spring, his favorite because of how isolated yet comforting it was. The enclosure was small and warm, moss covering the rocks and wisteria--fake, maybe--hanging between. He stopped in front of the open door and held his arm out, gesturing for her to enter. She did, glancing around in wonder, still taking it all in.

"A hot spring?" Mikasa asked, turning around to face the doorway. "This is where you come every day." It was more of a processing statement than a question and it didn't necessarily require an answer, but Eren nodded anyway. His future and dreams were cloudy and ambiguous; he didn't want tonight to be.

He started taking his shirt off, already warming up from the steam accumulating in the loosely closed-off room. "I love it here," he answered quietly, eyes gazing around the room, noting the small differences from yesterday. He moved on to remove his shorts.

Mikasa's face erupted into various shades of pinks and reds, her eyes widening slightly and fixating on Eren's eyes, biting her lip to relieve the tension from holding her gaze above his sculpted collarbones.

He shifted slightly to pull the short off his foot and Mikasa's eyes glanced at the glistening sweat forming on his sharp collarbones, pointing like an arrow towards the tough ridges that make up his abs.

She licked her lips, catching glimpses of his firm ass as he stepped into the spring, wading to the middle where it reached his naval. She gulped harshly as the water kissed up his thighs, instantly hugging his skin.

"I can't describe it," Eren sighed, running his hands over his face and letting the hot water forge different trails to his chest, his brown hair turning black as it absorbed the water. Mikasa's eyes followed the sweat traveling down his chest, watching it culminate into the reflection of the same site and watching the process in reverse. "You have to try it, Mikasa."

She pursed her lips, hesitant, before complying by slowly undoing the buttons on her shirt. She could feel Eren's eyes on her, intensely watching the finite movements of her fingers caressing the button, and she felt the heat rising to her cheeks. The thought of asking him to do it for her crossed her mind.

She shrugged off the top and her hands moved to the buttons on her pants, surprised at the increased breathability for her skin. Mikasa briefly caught Eren lick and bite his lip as he kept his eyes trained on her hands.

Eren waded closer, the water line settling now just above his hips. The water lapped at the paler skin, inching threateningly closer to where his cock was starting to harden. His breath hitched at the sight of her bending over to pull the pants over her knees, her cleavage rounding and the weight of her boobs distorting the structure, starting to fall out of the bra.

He kept his eyes fixed on her chest, fully aware of her gaze on him, as she started to stand up and stepped out the pants, leaving them on the floor.

She placed her hands delicately on the thin straps of her lace panties, and she was secretly psyched at her bold choice this morning. Eren stepped forward, the water loudly splashing out of the way, a splash lapping at her feet.

"Wait," he said quickly, "wait." He looked up at her from in the pool, the water to his knees. He held one hand up to her. "May I?" There was a hopeful rejuvenation sparkling in his eyes, an unspoken promise on his tongue.

His hands were inching towards her hips, giving in to an unseen magnetic pull, like he already knew she'd say yes. She'd paused in disbelief, her body becoming unbelievably warm. "Mika?"

As soon as the breathless "Yes," landed in one ear, Eren's hands snapped to her hips, holding the thin delicate fabric so tightly in his rough hands. His palms and forearms rested against the length of her thick thighs, the fading light still highlighting the muscle.

Eren took a slight step forward, disturbing the peace of the water and pressed his face to her crotch, still clutching onto the panty straps, like he'd drown if he let go. Eren inhaled deeply, a shiver ran down his spine and pulsed right to his cock because she smelled so, weirdly delicious.

He swallowed the saliva building on his tongue and rested his chin just above the top panty line. He stared up at her to find her staring at him, both hands reaching to his hair for stability. He could feel her heart beat to the pelvic muscles; she could feel the panty fabric dampen.

His throat was dry and he was at a loss for words as he stared at her and slowly started tugging down the straps. He stopped when the fabric had bunched just above the lips, letting them teasingly peek out at himself, and he licked his lips. Eren bit the fabric quickly, pulling back, looking up to make eye contact with it in his teeth before abruptly letting it recoil back and roughly yanking the rest of the panties down.

His hands immediately wrapped to her butt cheeks, grabbing one in each hand, like they were his new life support in the still pleasant waters. Mikasa moaned as he fondled the skin, grabbing and folding the soft flesh in his strong, rigid grip.

Meanwhile his mouth pressed kisses like it was paying a nonexistent fare as his mouth ventured lower, lips meeting lips. Her soft gasps served as conductors, waving him on. He sucked firmly, licking out exploritorily, smirking as his tongue registered the taste of her.

Eren lowered one hand from her ass cheek to between her thighs and swirled his thumb in the fluid. She was more wet than the steamed air.

He smirked at the gasp Mikasa released as his thumb cautiously pressed between the labia, his tongue following his finger and his mind making mental notes of where he'd touched that she was the loudest.

His thumb slid easily on her wet skin, alternating pressure with light thin tongue flicks or hard flat licks. Butterflies and extreme heat erupted in her stomach, spreading across her body like wildfire instantaneously.

"Oh, Eren!" she moaned loudly, clutching onto his scalp and pushing her weight onto him slightly, her knees wobbling from the pleasure.

Eren firmly grabbed one thigh in his hand and guided it to rest on his shoulder, his other hand supporting her standing leg. He supported her weight and she pressed into him and tightened her thigh to his face as he continued to lick hungrily at her clit, happier with this angle, with the weight of her thigh against his cheek.

After a few moments he smacked her cheek and pulled his head away, staring up at her with shiny eyes and a moist mouth. “On the ground,” he ordered.

Mikasa instantly obeyed, scampering onto the cold stone ground and sitting down. She hummed as the strangely cool rock soothed the hot stinging of the smack.

He leaned over her a heart’s beat later. Within seconds he was hovering over her legs, manhandling and kissing up her thighs, biting at the skin and licking to make up for it.

Eren moaned when he tucked his nose to her pussy and delicately touched his tongue to her clit again, his hands gripping her thighs that squeezed together, blocked by his head, pressing against his cheeks instead.

The pleasure went on for minutes, the sound an ungodly symphony, before the skin became too raw and too sensitive and Mikasa had to push his face away.

She was aching to catch her breath, her chest heaving, her heart racing, her pulse electrifying. He was smirking at her, also breathing deeply, like he were willing to sacrifice air to drink more of her. His eyes sparkling like he were staring at an angel; she was shining with a halo of sweat and condensation.

Mikasa opened her mouth to say something, barely got the semblance of an “I” out when Eren had lunged to her, the magnetic pull becoming too overwhelming to ignore anymore. Their mouths collided, his hand reaching out to hold her in place, and it felt like the steam from the sauna had penetrated their barriers.

She had moved to hover over his lap, lower thighs kissing but upper thighs barely touching, yearning out and aching to close the space. Eren’s hands were too busy exploring her breasts and upper back to pull her closer, and he was too overstimulated to focus on the drops landing on his hard cock, the mixed droplets of his saliva and her discharge.

Eren’s brain was short-circuiting: there was too much of her to focus on, and there were so many sensations of her skin of his to process. She was overwhelming.

Eren loudly moaned when her hand shyly reached for his cock, confidently gripping it yet stroking it coyly. The contradictory strokes sent electrifying waves of pleasure to his brain, pumping more blood back to his cock so he could feel it more.

The noises blissfully slipped out of his mouth as she tugged on him, kissing and nipping softly at the skin on his neck while bouncing lightly on her knees, letting her clit just grace his tense thigh, the ghostly friction teasingly divine.

When the heat boiling inside became too much and the heat from the moist air made the sweat stick to his skin, Eren roughly gripped her bum with both hands and pulled her onto her lap.

She fell into him, yelping at the sudden motion then quickly moaning at the friction between her wet clit and his thigh, the moist sheen between causing her to slide towards his crotch, his hard cock upright wedged between their abdomens.

He waited until she made eye contact before kissing her, brushing a strand of hair from her eyeline then holding her neck. He used his other hand to guide her hips as she rocked back and forth, both of them moaning softly into the other’s warm mouth.

Mikasa used her hand to lather his cock in the wetness that had gathered between her legs, the mixture of sauna steam and sweat and saliva and fluid. Eren’s eyes screwed shut and his face twisted in pleasure at the movements, pulling away from the kiss and softly moaning her name, his grip on her skin tightening.

The steam was infiltrating his mind, he could feel the water lift the weight of everything despite the very real muscular weight shifting in his lap. He felt the buoyant feeling in his chest, lifting the shackles.

“Mikasa,” he started softly, tears welling into his eyes, “whatever happens…” He tucked his nose into her neck, unable to look at her. A hot tear slid down his cheek. The words choked in his throat, making it hard to breathe.

Her hand firmly gripped his cheeks and forced him to look at her. She was smiling so softly, a look that made the warmth of the sauna air around them feel cold. Her thumb unknowingly wiping away the tear.

“I know, Eren,” she replied soothingly, rubbing her thumb once or twice against his cheekbone. “Me too.” He returned her smile before she kissed him gently, slowly, so slowly Eren wondered if time had been paused. “Always,” she murmured against his lips.

“Always,” he whispered quickly in agreement, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed.

She lowered onto his cock, the explosive burst of electricity inside drastically drowning out their quiet tones, amplified the feeling ten thousand-fold.

Eren’s lips hovered over her chest, panting, periodically pressing kisses or nips to the goose bumped skin. He pawed between her bum and hips as he rocked his hips in rhythm with her bounce, drinking in her loud moans.

The motion was slow, not greedy like before. The kisses were softer and more tender, the touches were longer and warmer. The pleasure felt amplified somehow, like the crowded steam air made it impossible for it to evaporate, keeping it condensed inside them, making every touch and every movement and every kiss feel so much more powerful.

He gently rolled them over, carefully placing his hand behind her head to prevent it from hitting the hard rock.

Her nails clawed into his back, breaking through the steam-heated skin but stopping at the strong muscle, leaving raised red reminders for tomorrow.

He thrusted in and out, slowly, taking his time, like he had all of it in the world. Mikasa’s fingers clawed at his pecs with one hand and the other grabbed a fistful of Eren’s overgrown hair, dragging him closer.

When the sensation in her pelvis spread to the rest of her body and her toes started to curl, she wrapped her arms underneath Eren’s shoulders and held him close, eliminating as much of the distance between their skin. The sweat acted like magnetic glue, pulling and sticking their bodies together with intricate forces.

She moaned loudly and unapologetically, taking each thrust as he whispered compliments and novelties in her ear, telling her she looked so gorgeous like this, being fucked by him.

She was too breathless to tell him he looked and felt godly, hand crafted by a higher power. She worried he’d laugh at her anyway.

Eren was rapidly approaching his climax, and from the way her thighs clenched around his waist—so tight practically preventing him from moving—he could tell Mikasa was too.

He pushed deeper, fighting against the strength of her thighs around him to pull out ever so slightly and using even more force to push deeper inside. Only two hard pumps and he came inside her, Mikasa still grinding herself against his overstimulated cock, causing him to choke out her name and jerk his hips back, which her hips instinctively chased.

Her thighs loosened around him and he slipped out. He layed onto the cool stone and pulled her into his arms, resting her head onto his chest, her skin hot and red and sweaty.

He stared at the wooden ceiling, wondering if his vision was so blurry because of her or the steam. He closed his eyes. He didn’t even care if it was blurry. He was in his favorite place with his favorite person, living in his blissful freedom.

She lifted her head a little to look at Eren, their eyes and lips aligning. “Mikasa… I…” She stared at him with a happy, cozy smile, like the ones they’d wear when they snuggled with his mother by the fireplace when they were kids—at home.

The words choked in his throat. Tears welled in both their eyes, but her expression didn’t waver. He kissed her instead, mouthing the words into her mouth, etching them inside with his tongue.

He relaxed into her touch, fell into her intoxicating kiss all over again, when she carved the reciprocal sequence of letters into his mouth.

Love you.

[talesfromthecrypts]

Hello!! Do you have any recs for sexy horror movies?

This is slightly vague I can work with it:

The Shiver of the Vampires (1970)

Your Vice is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key (1972)

The Blood Spattered Bride (1972)

Ganja and Hess (1973)

Shivers (1975)

Videodrome (1983)

The Hunger (1983)

Gothic (1986)

Hellraiser (1987)

Def by Temptation (1990)

Candyman (1992)

Return of the Living Dead 3 (1993) (this one might be me being insane)

Cemetery Man (1994)

The Addiction (1995)

Blood and Donuts (1995)

eXistenZ (1999)

Thirst (2009)

Raw (2016)

Knife+Heart (2018)

Titane (2021)

Suitable Flesh (2023)

[simpforsix]

With all the stuff about the Titanic submarine I keep thinking about the tourism of sites of mass tragedy and human remains. It’s a really important conversation that I haven’t seen many people discuss outside of historical and final care provider circles.

The Titanic is a grave. The only reason that submarines are even permitted to go through it is because it’s in international waters. Other shipwrecks, like in Lake Superior, are frequently declared grave sites and have restrictions or bans on exploration of their structure. At the very least, there should be incredibly strict restrictions on Titanic exploration. It should not be a tourist destination. There may be still be human remains in certain parts of the ship, and the mud around the ship is filled with corpses. Considering the tragedy only happened 100 years ago, this tourism is very disrespectful. Also, exploration of the Titanic could potentially damage the structure, which would hinder academic research as well as further disrespect the dead and those who remember them. The structure will not be around for much longer.

Tourism of sites of mass tragedy can also be very dangerous. Obviously we know why the Titanic is dangerous, but it goes beyond that. Oftentimes people are not aware of the danger, or are reassured by authority that it is safe. For instance, many people visit active volcanoes, and some have been injured or killed by eruptions. For some, the danger is a feature. There are people who visit Chernobyl, an even more recent site of mass tragedy than the Titanic, despite being aware of the danger of radiation. It’s thrill-seeking, but instead of a rollercoaster people are putting themselves in danger to walk through human remains.

Our natural fascination with mortality leads many to disrespect the dead. The viewing of human remains in museums is a big debate, and I personally don’t think that we should display human remains without previous consent from the person. Imagine how you would feel if yourself or a loved one was displayed in a museum, or had your resting place constantly disturbed by tourists. 

It’s also important to note that this type of tourism disproportionately impacts people of colour. Eurocentric society systematically dehumanizes the bodies of POC, and this becomes crystal clear in how we treat their remains. Egyptian mummies remain on display in museums despite the disapproval of many Egyptian people. Many black bodies, particularly of women, have been displayed in museums, such as Saartjie Baartman who was finally buried in 2002. Indigenous human remains are also frequently displayed, and ancient burial sites are viewed as cursed land and get destroyed by construction. The remains of people across Asia have been sold and displayed, with recent displays posing the human remains of Chinese prisoners. Most human bones being sold originated from graverobbing the graves of Asian and Indigenous people. None of these people consented to this treatment, and these communities are still being harmed by the commodification of their dead.

Engaging with sites of mass death needs to be done respectfully. The dead deserve our care. 

It’s natural to be curious about tragedy and death, and engaging with our own mortality can be healthy. There are ways to engage with these topics respectfully. Many online resources are available to learn about death, with my personal recommendation being the youtube channel Ask a Mortician. Visiting cemeteries is another great way to engage with death, so long as you abide by the rules and have good intentions. There are some great documentaries about instances of mass death, with many available for free on youtube. You can visit designated memorials of the sites. The Titanic itself has a section in a graveyard in Halifax. I also recommend donating to and supporting the efforts of communities to have their human remains and cultural artifacts repatriated.

Sites of mass death need to be treated with the same respect as cemeteries. They are important and full of education, but we need to remember that these are real people. The dead are not fantastical oddities; they are us.

[omgthatdress]

Rebecca Rubin is the daughter of Russian-Jewish immigrants living in New York City in 1914. So instead of being infuriated by the lack of extant children’s fashion from the 1900s, I can be infuriated by the lack of extant children’s fashion in the 1910s!

Fashion eras actually rarely fit tidily into decades. In the 1910s, you have the Titanic period from roughly 1908-1914, which is very elegant and still very Victorian, and then the WW1 proto-flapper era from 1914-1922, which is much more modern. Looking at the fashion of 1914, you can see the change happening. It’s actually a pretty radical era in fashion, and really interesting to see.

Rebecca’s fashion tends to lean more towards the modern, probably to help give her some separation from Samantha’s collection. Honestly Rebecca is probably my favorite of the modern collections (although that may change with Claudie).

Her original meet dress fits the fashion of 1914 pretty well.

Her brooch is Russian lacquer folk art depicting a rabbit. In the story, it’s a reference to Rebecca’s favorite Russian folk tale, the story of Clever Karina.

(Etsy)

The shawl is a traditional Russian pavlovo posad shawl, a treasured family heirloom.

I haven’t been able to find antique examples of Russian folk crafts, and I also haven’t been able to find anything in English about the history of Russian lacquer and shawls. So I can’t say much, but they are very pretty!

It might seem kind of surprising to us Goyim seeing so much Russian folk art on a character whose parents fled pogroms in Russia. Recently, I visited a local Jewish cemetery where some Russian-Jewish immigrants from Rebecca’s era are buried (there’s actually a really long and interesting history of Jews living in Florida and the rest of the south!), and I was very very suprised to see a few Russian imperial eagles, a symbol of the Tsar. I asked a Jewish aunt-by-marriage, and she said that even if you fled under persecution, you still missed your home. So I like seeing all that complicated identity of being Russian and Jewish and American being brought up in Rebecca. Good going, AG!