#and then like a decade later this new way of visiting loved ones in hell opens up

[randomly--accessed--memories]

Maybe after being in heaven a while, some of the ex sinners(like angel dust, pentious, and others) begin to get bored of heaven and make a deal to be allowed back down from time to time. Like "How can this be heaven if I can't see people I care about? *puppy eyes*" They are allowed to go back to the hotel or even outside ( heavily supervised[maybe by the exorcist as a new job?]). But sometimes they bring stuff from upstairs, like Angel bring a new suit for Keke, or stuff like that. Pentious brings sometimes books for Vox to read and Charlie of how to help people to get better or how to treat people with severe head trauma. Angel sometimes tries to get some cheap booze back to heaven just for the taste of nostalgia, but he is almost never able.

Open travel between Heaven and Hell to see loved ones is a cute idea and will probably end up being canon in some form by the end of the show.

Only issue is now I’m thinking about Vox’s actual daughter (who has a 50-50 chance of being in either Heaven or Hell) coming down for a visit, not realizing everything that's happened.

[sunlightmurdock]

Hey, Neighbour! | DBF!Jake Seresin x Reader (18+)

Synopsis: Jake’s been having a problem recently, and when the power goes out next door, everything quickly comes to a head.

Warnings: dad’s best friend trope. Age gap. Reader is in her mid-20s, Jake’s around 40. Obviously unbalanced power dynamic. No use of Y/N. Reader’s dad has a name. Mention of reader having a piercing. Smut. Pure filth and pining. Smut. Oral (f receiving). Unprotected pinv. Creampie. Jake has no respect for his best friend’s furniture. Choking briefly. Please comment / Reblog, it’s greatly appreciated. Wc: 8.5k. Minors dni, you will be blocked.

…

Jake clicks the television off and pushes himself up from the couch, joined by his shadow of a German shepherd called Ace. They walk together to the sound of the meek little knock at his front door, Jake’s gym socks padding along his dark wood floors along the way.

It’s late. Too late for whoever is at his front door to be bearing good news. He twists the door handle and pulls it open, rolling back his aching shoulders. This late at night, he has a good idea of who’s going to be standing on his porch.

As expected, standing there and shivering in your dad’s coat and a pair of slippers, is exactly the last person that Jake was hoping to see.

You see, Jake has had a bit of a problem since he moved in to this neighbourhood.

Quite a substantial one, in the grand scheme of things, and one that seems to just be getting worse by the minute.

Suburbia was meant to be Jake’s reprieve from his bachelor lifestyle. His escapades have been worrying his mother to death for going on two decades now, and it came time that even Jake agreed that it was time to wisen up about his love life. With all of the deployments, and all of the time away from home, it had been beyond easy to never fall into anything serious. By the time he was twenty-nine, Jake’s longest ever relationship was two and a half months, which was alarming given the number of women he had encountered by then.

Two things happened that sent Jake here, to this cute little cul-de-sac in suburban San Diego, one — Jake’s job became more secure, and guaranteed that he would spend at least ninety percent of his remaining career here on the west coast. Second, he proposed to a woman. A beautiful woman, that he was so sure he was going to spend the rest of his life with.

She liked his house, it looked like the one her parents had raised her in. So, he bought the house and he bought a dog, and swore that he was going to try to settle down. Six months later, it was just him and the dog. Payton apologised profusely, and she’d apologise even more if he ever ran into her again, he just wasn’t right for her.

Things weren’t so bad though. Jake and Ace liked the peace and quiet, and the guy next door was actually pretty cool. Jack, the airline pilot with a mean golf swing and a great nose for the best sports bars in town. He’s a little older than Jake, with a hell of a lot more to show for it, including three grown up kids.

It’s been a couple of years now, and Jake’s practically part of the family. He knows everything there is to know. He’s there on birthdays, holidays, emergencies — he loves this family. But he has a problem.

His problem was manageable at first. So, Jack’s youngest daughter might have caught Jake’s attention at first. You were visiting home from college and you had stepped out of the car in a tight little pair of shorts and a tank top, and Jake just happened to be standing in Jack’s garage, helping him with a little project, when he first saw you.

And you were funny. Right away cracking some joke about Jake’s less than adept approach to projects around the house. Jake had laughed out loud without even meaning to, and then you’d turned your head and hit him with that mega-watt smile. Bringing new meaning to the term beaming.

God, that pretty fucking smile.

Your humour dances lightly on the nerves of others, like Jake’s, but sweeter. You’re well behaved and back then you had had a dreamy boyfriend who was in pre-med. Perfect in every way.

Even more reason for Jake to keep his hands to himself.

You were Jack’s kid. Jake wouldn’t ever cross that line. It’s just that sometimes… he had to remind himself of this boundary.

He hadn’t ever been close friends with someone where that was even a concern, and truthfully, he had been unprepared for meeting you. In all of the stories Jack told him, you were this cute little kid. Standing before him, you didn’t quite match the image he had of you in his head. This was truly uncharted territory.

Truth be told, there were times when Jake wasn’t so sure you wanted him to hang back. Even when you were still bringing that boyfriend of yours around, Jake caught the way you looked at him.

The way you tug those glossed lips between your teeth and grin around the straw of your drink.

If he was a better friend, or a stronger man, he might have been able to nip his little problem in the bud right away. He had tried, and you were living away from home then, so it was easier. But last month, you had moved back in with your parents and Jake’s life has been nothing but stress ever since.

On occasion, Jake thinks of how he would have to plead his case if someone discovered how he felt. You just don’t know what it’s like when she’s looking at me, man. I swear, I tried to stay away from her, I did.

It’s not his fault that Jack asked him to watch you while your folks were away on that cruise.

Jake’s gaze finally flickers back up to your wounded, hurt baby bunny, expression.

“What’s the matter, cutie? — You alright?” He reaches for you with one hand, gently grabbing at the crook of your elbow and guiding you towards him. That sad little look on your face tugs at his heart strings every time.

“Yeah, I just — I plugged in my phone charger and all the lights went out. I think I tripped a fuse,” All exasperated and frustrated at once, you push your hair back off of your face and frown at him. “Could you come take a look at it for me?”

Jake’s throat grows thick. Under your dad’s heavy work coat, Jake can see the thin white tank top you’re wearing and the blue checkered, boxer style pyjama shorts. But Jack asked him to take care of you.

“Yeah. Of course I can,” Jake nods his head and reaches down to tug at Ace’s black woven collar. “Come in a sec. I just need some shoes.”

There haven’t been too many occasions where you have been inside Jake’s place. Your dad comes here a lot and you’ve been sent over to collect him before dinner on occasion, or to deliver Jake some leftovers.

It’s warm inside, and it smells like woodsmoke and leather. He’s been burning the candle that you got him for his last birthday. You inhale softly, shrugging the coat closer to your body.

In the times that you have been over here, you’re always surprised by how tidy he keeps the place. It’s not what you would have expected of a single guy living all alone.

Jake pulls some sneakers from a tidy shoe organizer disguised to look like an end table and crouches down to put them on his feet. Leaning over, something catches his eye between the heavy fleece of your dad’s unzipped work jacket.

“Did you get your bellybutton pierced?”

The question startles you, drawing attention to the fact that you had been craning your neck and trying to get a look into Jake’s living room. You turn your head, blinking as Jake straightens up and takes a step towards you.

He reaches out and before you know it, his warm fingers are stretching out across your chilled, just exposed navel. His thumb brushes over your soft skin, brows drawing together as he examines the dainty jewelry pushed through your skin.

Swiftly, you take a step back and his hand drops away from your body. “I’ve had it for years.”

There’s a silence between the two of you. Jake’s going to be kicking himself for that for weeks to come. He shouldn’t have reached out and touched you like that. He shouldn’t be commenting on things your father wouldn’t approve of. You’re too grown up for that.

“Huh,” He clicks his tongue, reaching just past your side to grab his house keys from the dish by the door. “C’mon, kid. Let’s go take a look at those lights.”

The shuffle of your slippers cuts through the awkward silence as you cross Jake’s front yard and into yours. It’s late November, and a cold night in particular too. Standing in just a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, the evening chill makes Jake’s arm hair stand on end. As you walk ahead, your back to him, Jake wonders if it has the same effect on you.

Thinking about his best friend’s daughter’s tits. He wishes the shame alone was enough to knock the thought out of his head. He wishes you hadn’t moved home. He wishes you weren’t leading him into your dark, empty house right now.

The entire house is pitch black, but Jake tests the hallway lightswitch in passing anyway. He notes the dubious look you shoot him back over your shoulder. Then, he passes by you as you stop to take off that big coat. It’s not something he wants to hang by and watch.

It’s cold as his shoulder brushes yours, and not just because it’s November. You swallow thickly, staring after him until he disappears into the dark. Your feelings towards Jake are complicated.

Well, they’re not. Your crush on him isn’t the innocent middle school crush that you used to have on an older figure, like a teacher. No, this is far from doodling his name in your journal. This man, and his thick, ridged abs and golden chest hair, is working his way into your dreams.

After the break-up, you had sworn off men for a while — and that was the right decision for you. But, it left certain parts of you yearning. And Jake’s right next door. From your bedroom window, you’ve got the perfect view into his backyard. The same backyard where he’ll work out in the blazing heat, sweat glistening along his tanned skin, along the ridges and valleys of his muscles.

No, this crush is far from innocent. It crossed the border into indecent weeks ago, the first time that you touched yourself thinking about him. It wasn’t your fault; he was tempting you.

You had returned home from work to find Jake hanging out in the living room with your father, not unusual, and you had joined the two of them. Your dad had started with a playful comment about Jake. Jake had returned the favour with a witty remark about your dad. You were just joining in on the fun, poking playfully at Jake’s age.

All too suddenly, he had turned sharply to you and pinched the soft skin between your ribs and hip, leaning dangerously close with a smirk on his face that made your head spin. In fact, you still remember the way your mouth had hung open as Jake had breathed out a chuckle and shot you that playfully warning look.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” He’d challenged, that eager look in those wild green eyes, his cheeks dimpling just slightly, fingers pressing into your side.

Since then, you can’t help but think of him closer, and closer.

“Jake, wait!” You call, dropping the coat onto a hook and kicking off your slippers, starting to rush after him. Jake cranes his neck to look back at you over his shoulder. “You should probably show me what you’re doing. Y’know, in case it happens again.”

“Sure. Come here,” Jake jerks his head for you to join him, extending his hand for you in the dark of the utility room. You swat around until your fingers graze his, falling silent at the brash way he grabs hold of your hand and drags you closer. Your ass briefly brushes his thigh as he guides you in front of him. Jake steps back, clearing his throat. The little red dot on the fuse box illuminates his fingertips as he reaches past you. “This is the switch you want, don’t mess with anything else or your dad’ll kill you.”

The corners of your lips twitch. There are plenty of things your dad would be furious with, if he knew you had done them.

Jake’s fingers curl around the switch. His cologne fills your nose. His massive bicep is inches from your cheek, and everything feels like electric as his other hand comes to rest on the bare space between your shirt and your shorts. You’re trapped between him and the wall in front. If you would push your hips back just an inch or two…

“So, you flip the switch off to reset it,” Jake’s voice is all gravel from yelling at the young pilots he instructs, and shouting over the top of loud music in bars. It drifts past your ears and makes you want to shiver as his fingers curl around the plush of your hip. “And then you flip it back on for the power.”

Suddenly, the lights come back on in the hall outside of the utility room. Jake’s got you cornered against the fuse box really, and with the washer and dryer to your side, the only escape would be to rush out into the hall. You’re not quite ready to make that move. You can hear the amusement in his voice. He can feel the way you’re burning with awkward embarrassment in front of him.

“Oh.” You say quietly. Jake chuckles from behind you, his hand trailing about an inch higher, taking some of the fabric from your tank top with it, pinching playfully at your newly exposed waist.

“Happy to help, kid.” He’s already drawing back, his hand pulling away from your electrified skin, the sound of his shoe hitting the floor and alerting you to the fact that he’ll be leaving before you even know it.

“Could I ask you for one more favour?” You turn to face him, biting sheepishly on your bottom lip.

“Sure. What is it?” He’d retile your entire bathroom for you if you asked him to. That’s what makes him wish he was a better friend.

There’s an art to the way you bat your lashes at him, knowing better than to get too close or put your hands on him. Just that deep, pleading look in your eyes is more than enough. “Will you finish watching my scary movie with me? — Kinda… freaked me out a little bit when the lights went out, is all.”

“… Yeah. Yeah, I guess I can hang out for a little.” You’re a good kid, and it’s just a movie. He can’t leave you over here all by yourself, scared out of your mind, now, can he?

Jake wonders if this is what your father had in mind when he had asked his most trusted friend to just be there for his daughter while they were away.

That same, trusted best friend, sitting on the couch with his chin propped up against his palm, and that daughter’s head resting against his shoulder. You could have sat over on the other end of the couch, or even in your dad’s armchair, but that defeats the purpose of asking Jake to stay.

“Fill me in. What am I missing here?” Jake asks, mostly to fill the silence. His arm stretches along the back of your couch, his knees parted obnoxiously and his neck awkwardly straight to minimise risk of him laying his head against yours.

Your hand comes to rest against his middle, eyes focused calmly on the screen. “So there are two timelines. The present, and flashbacks to like… maybe ten years ago. Ten years ago, the family bought this mirror, and…”

Jake’s fingers inch their way into your hair, trailing softly over your scalp. Your fingers brush over his middle as he massages your scalp. He listens to you explain the plot of the movie like he isn’t thinking about the way your nipples are pressing through the white fabric of your tank top.

“Freaky mirror…” Jake muses over the concept of the plot, squinting his eyes at the screen, his fingers slowing to a halt in your hair as he turns his head to look at you. “You gonna be able to sleep okay tonight if we watch this?”

You meet him back with a sheepish grin and an innocent shrug of your shoulders. “Well, I already started, so I need to see that it ends okay, or I’ll be freaked out.”

“Alright. Just making sure you’re not gonna try crawling into my bed tonight after you have a nightmare.” Jake teases, pushing his knees further apart and sinking down into the comfort of the grey fabric couch he helped the movers bring in here last August.

He didn’t push you away when you sat right next to him and curled against his side. He reached out himself and stroked his fingers along your stomach.

Confidence surges through you like a wave, swelling big enough for you to giggle and press closer to him. “Come on, would that be such a bad thing?”

“What did you say?”

The swell has passed and the wave crashes just like all the others do, breaking over an otherwise calm sea. You swallow softly, growing exceptionally still.

“I was just kidding—“

Jake’s fingers leave your hair and curl instead around the nape of your neck. He turns his head, attempting to get a look at your face. “No, no. Say it again. What did you say?”

You shake your head, pressing it closer against his toned stomach. “I was just joking. You wouldn’t mind it that much if I had a bad dream and had to come sleep in your bed.”

He’s quiet for a moment and the movie draws tense. The main character is creeping around in the dark, the music is building, and Jake’s far too quiet for your liking.

“Don’t joke about that.” Jake says quietly.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” You answer him, hugging your cheek into the dark fabric of his t-shirt. That way, there’s no chance of him seeing the shame on your face. Going after your dad’s best friend— you should be ashamed of yourself.

Jake rubs a palm over the stubble on his jaw, trying to focus on the screen in front of him. This movie can’t possibly take much longer.

He knows he has upset you. You’re uncharacteristically quiet, and he can feel you trying to sit still. He shifts his hips a little, reaching out and resting his palm against your waist.

Your brows draw together as the main character bites into the apple she was eating and glass shards drop to the floor in front of her. Jake feels your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. Sweat beads on the nape of his neck.

His thumb swipes back and forth over the inch of bare skin on your hip.

Jake glances down at you. Laying against his middle like this. It feels all too natural. He isn’t even paying attention to the movie. Truthfully, the only thing on Jake’s mind is how soft your skin feels against the pad of his thumb.

Imagining how soft your body would feel in his palms, every inch of your skin in his capable hands.

You gasp as the camera pans to the main character’s bleeding mouth, and the shattered lightbulb in your hands, twisting your head and burying your face in Jake’s shirt.

Jake flinches, his attention drawn back to the screen as his fingers curl into your skin. His face twists in distaste, groaning at the gore on the screen.

“Shit, you weren’t kidding about this being freaky.” Jake mutters with a soft shake of his head, shifting uncomfortably as his fingers massage at the pillowy skin of your waist. He swallows thickly, eyes dropping down to the way you’re nestled just above his waistband. He tries a weak chuckle, mind racing for something to lighten the mood. “What am I meant to do if I’m up all night after this, huh?”

You laugh softly against his stomach, pressing closer to the warmth of his rigid torso. Jake stares at the screen as he feels your open palm brush over his abdomen, fingertips grazing the waistband of his sweats by mere millimeters. He strokes your skin, setting his knees further apart by an inch.

Even with the score of the movie in front of you, everything feels so quiet. Even with the floor lamp to your right and the table lamp to your left, it all feels so dark. It all feels so slow. Truthfully, you imagine this is as close as you’ll get to understanding what it feels like to tightrope across Niagara Falls.

One misstep, a strong gust, the loss of balance in any capacity and its all over. The best friendship that your father has ever had, thrown away because you made a pass at a man far too old for you to begin with.

Then, Jake’s fingers break their almost surgically precise pattern. The tips stretch just slightly under the fabric of your tank top, reaching for the silken skin of your stomach. It’s brief, before they retreat to the safety of circling the skin that you’ve chosen to expose. You drop your gaze, watching all five of his digits follow their intricate pattern, and stretch under the cotton white of your top once again.

Maybe Jake notices that you’re watching him, or maybe he finally notices it himself, but he stops all at once. Fingers pulling back to rest platonically against your hip, green eyes trained seriously on the television, his lips stretched into a flat line.

“It’s okay,” You whisper without turning your gaze away from the screen. Jake doesn’t look at you. He feels your fingers brush across the top of his, curling through the digits, linking them together. “It’s okay, Jake. You can. I won’t say anything.”

Your parents aren’t going to be home for another eleven days. What’s Jake supposed to do until then, ignore your existence? — Avoid you entirely?

He wants this, and you’re on to him, giving him permission.

“Honey,” It’s caught somewhere between a sigh and a groan, an exhale of restraint and desperation all at once. He wishes he could at least pretend he’s half interested in this movie. “Don’t talk like that.”

Your brows draw together, eyes going wide as a child in the movie creeps through the house, headed for the master bedroom. Bloody sheets on the bed. A smashed plate on the floor. Jake’s hand gripping your hip. The child inches forwards, the music swells, a chill rushes down your back. In frame, the little girl rounds the edge of the bed and someone leaps out, bloodied and frenzied. Jake hasn’t been paying enough attention to gather who.

Neither one of you will care in a few moments.

The surprise makes you jolt, leaping up from your spot against Jake’s stomach, sitting upright all of a sudden, grabbing onto his forearm for support.

“It’s alright, cutie,” Jake breathes out in soft amusement, rubbing a heavy circle on your back. That’s the first thing he called you. When he’d seen you struggling to lift the icebox in the garage. Let me get that for you, cutie. And now, he has the nerve to pretend like it’s just you that has led the two of you here. “Maybe we should turn it off now, huh?”

Your heartbeat is already thudding in your ears and there’s no way you’ll be able to sleep after any of this. Fuck it. You turn, brace your palm against his shoulder, and take the dive.

Jake has thought about what those pretty lips feel like. Every time they stretch upwards into those pretty smiles, each time you sink your teeth into the bottom one. He should be prepared, in theory. Is there any way to prepare for something like this?

“Sweetheart…” Jake mutters against your lips, eyes screwed shut, hands reaching out for your hips. Pained, he gives a slow shake of his head. “Come on, we can’t do this.”

“But do you want to?” Your lips graze his. He feels the way you arch your back, knocking your chest into his, angling yourself in a way that just begs him to grab hold of your waist and drag you into his lap. You close your mouth, pecking softly at his still lips once more. “If you didn’t know my dad… you would. Right?”

Yes. Of course he would. He would be insane not to. He’s driving himself insane trying not to.

“But I do, and… and he trusts me.” Jake turns his head just slightly, but his hands reach for you. His big hands find your hips and grab onto them tight, hard. He just holds you right there. There’s got to be some kind of way he can regain some of the power here.

“I trust you.” You tell him, kissing his jaw tentatively. Delicate fingertips skim along the throbbing vein on the left side of Jake’s throat, reaching for the nape of his neck. Soft, slow kisses lead a trail to his earlobe, passing plains of stubble and angled bone. “I know you won’t hurt me, and I know you want me. It’s okay, Jake, I want you too.

“Fuck.” Jake swears, dropping his head forwards to rest against the curve of your shoulder. His fingers dig into your hips harder and harder. By the time Jake drags you forwards, his grip is so tight that you would have no choice but to follow. You fall into his lap, lips parted and eyes wide as Jake’s deep pine coloured eyes study your face.

You wait for him to speak again, but he doesn’t. Not for a long time. His fingers stretch up from your hips, reaching under the fabric of your tank top, extending across your bare abdomen. He stretches the brushed cotton further, taking it up with a gentle touch.

“Your father would kill me.” Jake muses as his fingertips graze the underside of your breasts, his eyes solely on your face. You smile back at him, only partly because your father is an airline pilot who couldn’t bench half of what Jake does on a good day.

“I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

Jake grits his teeth. It has started to rain outside now. That storm that channel four had promised is starting to roll in. The movie will be over soon. The rain will be the only sound on this entire street. This house is completely empty, beside the two of you. He exhales through his nose and pushes his hips up. He’s half-hard under you, and giving you another disapproving shake of his head.

“Little fuckin’ minx…” Jake curses you, his words fanning out across the span of your exposed neck, hot and cold all at once. “You get off on teasing me like this, or something?”

A smile works its way across those pretty lips. Jake could see more of that smile than he sees sunsets and he would still be pretty damn content. Your nails rake softly through the almost buzzed fade at the back of his head as you give a shake of your head.

“Well, it’s not teasing if we take care of it,” Your shoulders rise and fall in a soft shrug as Jake’s fingers trail further upwards, taking your tank top with them and exposing your breasts to the cool autumn air. The rattle of the air conditioning unit that your dad tells you not to mess with reminds you of the real culprit as your nipples harden and perk with the exposure. You lean back, bracing each of your hands on Jake’s knees, arching your chest out, letting Jake see the newly exposed skin. “If you’ll let me.”

His eyes are pretty when he smiles. When he’s staring at your tits, they’re hooded and hungry, a shade of green that threatens to draw you in and hold you captive. What a happy captive you would be. His hands grab at both of them at once, squeezing roughly at the supple flesh.

All at once, his mouth is on yours too. He’s sucking at your bottom lip, growling into your mouth. He smells of smoked wood and he tastes of scotch. It paints half of a picture. A lonely man sitting in his home alone on a Saturday night, burning a candle given to him by a girl half his age and drinking liquor older than he is himself.

You’re straddling his hips now, your bare thighs squeezing into the fabric of his grey sweatpants, pulling yourself closer with each hungry kiss. Jake’s touch is experienced, expert; he pinches softly at your nipple, anticipates the way your mouth will draw open in a soft gasp, and licks into your mouth the second that it does. He sucks softly at the tip of your tongue, revelling in the feeling of your soft breasts in his hands.

“Arms up.”

You’re such a good girl. The way that you comply with a wordless grin and bite at your lip once the tank top hits the floor has Jake in even more trouble than he was before. He kisses softly at the space between your tits, pushing them together in his hands, opening his mouth and pressing his tongue into your skin.

Men like boobs. Big boobs, small boobs — your shared gossip sessions with friends in college always led to the same conclusion, men don’t care. They bite, suck, grab regardless of size. It shouldn’t be anything new. But then Jake reaches your left nipple. His right hand palms at the underside as his tongue swipes in a circular motion, just before his lips clasp around the sensitive bud.

You know he’s watching you through those esurient green eyes, but you find yourself playing right into his capable hands anyway. Any leverage you may have had in seeming like his charms don’t work on you are washed away with the dulcet tone of your first moan. It spills from your lips, your nails pressing into the nape of his neck as Jake sucks expertly at the sensitive skin.

He pulls away with another ravenous exhale, something between a sigh and a groan. His hands feel heavy on your body as they paw at your chest with a capability you’ve never encountered before. His cologne is expensive and mature, a smokey blend that has you intoxicated and enthralled. His mouth is wet and eager, but oh, so slow as it explores the areas of you he has dreamt about.

The rain outside is growing heavier, like it’s learning to mimic the deepness of each of your breaths. The movie must have finished by now. Neither one of you is going to check.

His stubble prickles, rough and masculine, abrasive compared to the adept caress of his tongue. His right hand grabs forcibly at the nape of your neck, drawing the sweetest little squeak from your already open lips. You knew he would be better than the guys you’ve been with before, but not like this. He hasn’t even touched you yet.

Jake’s lips seem to pinpoint each and every nerve ending in your chest, sucking and licking at your skin through feverish kisses. The tenderness seeping away each time a breathy moan falls from your mouth, fanning out against his clothed shoulder. He pulls away from the top of your breast with his teeth, already knowing, in his years of experience, that that’s going to bruise.

Jake lifts his head, letting his eyes drift shut as you lean forwards and press your mouth to his neck. He can feel your nerves in your trembling fingertips, in the way your chest shivers when it brushes his, in the way your lips suck at his pulse point. But you’re doing so well. Dragging your lips along the length of his neck, biting softly at the skin just above his collarbone, feeling him shiver at the sensation.

“Off.” You demand, grabbing at the bottom of his t-shirt, feeling him grin against your jaw. He complies wordlessly, grabbing at the back of his shirt and yanking it over his head.

You’ve seen Jake shirtless plenty of times, wandering around his property or opening the front door without shame. You’ve always wondered what those muscles, that dusting of golden chest hair, would feel like up close. Forgetting that you’re being watched, your hands explore his toned torso. The line down the middle of his stomach, the sharp divide of his collarbones, the swell of his pecs.

“What’re you thinking?” Jake asks, brushing your hair back from your face tenderly, concern coating his features.

A bashful smile spreads across your cheeks as you watch your fingers ghost along the thick muscle of his shoulder. “That you’re really hot.”

Jake breathes out a chuckle, reaching up and grabbing at the back of your neck to cradle you against him as he pushes up from the couch and turns quickly, planting you on your back and covering your body with his.

“That smile is gonna get me in big trouble, sweetheart,” Jake wastes no time in pressing his mouth to your stomach, holding you by your waist as he sucks filthy kisses into your skin to mark his path downward. “You know that?”

“I know.” You answer back, just to tease him this time. Jake stops at your waistband as you giggle, looking up at you through hooded eyes with a devilish grin on his face. He drags his teeth across your hip, hooking his fingers into the sides of your shorts and tugging them down your legs.

“God, honey, you weren’t wearing panties this entire time?” Jake exhales, eye-level with the most intimate part of you and completely unashamed. Your mind fumbles for an answer, lips getting into position to finally respond when he leans forwards and licks a stripe through your soaked core. Then, he moans. His hands grab fistfuls of your soft waist and he goes in again, lapping hungrily at your excitement, groaning against your sensitive skin.

“O-Oh… Jake.” Your voice trembles, knees trying to press shut around Jake’s broad shoulders. He grabs firmly at your thigh, closing his lips loosely around your clit, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud and making you jolt against him.

“Yeah, honey?”

“That feels really fucking good.” You tell him, closing your eyes finally.

“Attagirl. Just hold on, girlie, I’m gonna get you there.” He promises without once diverting from his apparent mission. If he’s as devoted to the Navy as he is to making you cum at this exact moment in time, the military is lucky to have him. You’re soaked, excitement pooling between your legs. Jake already knows he’s going to spend tomorrow cleaning this couch, and he wishes he cared enough to make better decisions.

“Look at this,” Jake breathes out as his gaze falls back down to rest between your legs. He couldn’t care less about the fucking couch. You swallow hard, practically aching for his touch. You’ve waited so long already. His index finger dips between your folds, his brows raise as he gathers your excitement on the tip of it. “Making such a fuckin’ mess for your old man’s best friend. Dirty fucking girl.”

He can’t see the way his words make you grin, but he can feel the way you reach for his hair and tug softly at those blonde roots, begging for more. He’s more than happy to give it to you. Jake groans against you, working his tongue in soft circles around the throbbing bundle of nerves. His eyes are still on you. Your eyes are closed — if you look him in the eyes then you’re going to get all embarrassed, and you’ll be damned before you let someone ruin how good this feels. Especially not yourself.

Jake’s hand trails up your naked torso, pawing at your rising and falling tits as you pant into the chilled air, sweat beading on your skin.

He’s gentle between your legs. More gentle than he could be. Pressing his stubbled mouth firmly against your core and working his tongue against you, each languid movement making you keen into him. The tip of his nose bumps your clit periodically. It feels like your head is spinning.

Dragging his mouth back up to your sensitive, throbbing clit, his free hand slides between your legs, he dips the tip of his index finger into you, then slides it in up to the knuckle and curls. Just testing the waters. It’s enough to earn him a moan, enough to have you grab a fistful of his short blonde hair, ensuring that he doesn’t get ahead of himself and lose pace with his mouth.

He slips his ring finger into you alongside his middle whilst his tongue works confidently along your core and back up to your clit. He lets go of your thigh and rests his forearm across your stomach, keeping you nice and still for him. Maybe he should feel ashamed of himself for how much he’s enjoying this.

All of those times he enjoyed the sound of your laugh, and sat with the afterthought of how much he’d enjoy the sound of your moans. It’s hard to be ashamed when it turns out he was right.

He scissors his fingers inside of you, making you gasp louder this time, pulling against him. You tug at his roots, he moans against your clit. You both shiver, and not because of that now thundering storm. Jake’s tongue flattens as he drags it along your core. He pulls his fingers from you and puts them immediately to work, taking over the pace on your clit, burying his face between your legs, curling his tongue into you.

Jake growls against you, his cock growing now uncomfortably hard in the confines of his sweats and his fingers and mouth switch places once again. After all the time he has waited, he doesn’t deny himself the pleasure of looking up at you, writhing at the feeling of him between your legs. All that does is make his sweats feel even tighter again. His fingers fuck into you mercilessly, curling and twisting, making you keen into his touch and arch your back and gasp all at once.

You cum with his name on your tongue and your fingers in his hair. The comedown feels like weightlessness. Jake doesn’t bother to ask if that’s the first time a man has made you feel like that, the adoration in your eyes as he comes in to kiss your mouth tells him everything he needs to know.

His mouth tastes like you, his chin is wet with your slick and his cock is straining against the grey cotton of his sweats, pressing in to your stomach. Jake’s fingers brush your hair back softly from your forehead, a sudden calmness in the green of his eyes as he studies the peaceful euphoric smile on your face.

“We don’t have to go any further—“

“Stop trying to be a gentleman.” You huff, lifting your head and kissing him hard, hooking your legs around his waist. Drawing him closer, you’re both painfully aware that the only thing stopping him from touching you is his sweats. “I want you.”

Jake pauses for a moment. Rain slams against the windows, and the television goes dark as it passes into standby mode. His hands squeeze softly at your waist, eyes darting downward at your naked body under his. He would be a damn idiot to say no to everything he has been fantasising about.

“You keep condoms here?” He breathes out.

Your eyes light up before him, gleaming with mischief. You give a confident nod of your head as a cunning little smirk spreads across your lips.

“There are some in my parents’ bathroom,” You can tell right away that he doesn’t like that idea, but that’s okay, option two was by far your favourite anyway. “Or, you could just cum in me. I won’t tell.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jake drops his head forwards to rest against your naked chest, panting out a dry laugh. His fingers bruise into your middle as he starts to consider the choices that have led him here. Once he feels composed enough to look you in the eye again, he lifts his head and squints seriously. “You did not just say that.”

“I want you to. I’m on birth control anyway.” Long gone is the nervous girl standing on his porch and asking him to fix her lights. There’s a devious, lustful look in your eye and Jake’s pretty damn sure there’s magic in that look. All he knows is that it could make him do just about anything you asked of him. “Please?”

Jake swipes his thumb along the curve of your jaw, studying the depths of your irises for just a moment. He leans forwards and kisses your bottom lip, sucking at the plush skin, pulling away with his teeth. You swallow as he sits back, pushes his sweats down his legs and frees his swollen cock. From under him, you’ve got the perfect view.

Every ridge and valley in those impossible abs, each follicle of hair that lines his tanned chest, trailing down below his navel and sitting neatly around his pubic bone, trimmed just as neatly as his navy-standard hair cut. His cock is a good size, considerable even when he’s got one of his large hands wrapped around its base. Wide too, throbbing red at the tip, bending just slightly to the left.

Just looking has your mouth running dry.

Fisting his cock, Jake sits back on his heels and lets his gaze fall down to your glistening core once again. He looks down at your pretty face, then lowers himself between your legs, pressing his chest into yours, kissing you dizzyingly hard.

“You want it?” Jake asks one last time.

“I want it.” You answer him, smiling softly back at him, squeezing your thighs around his hips.

You’re looking up at him with such trust in your eyes that Jake can barely stand it. His heart thuds in his chest as he guides the tip of his cock between your folds, hesitating just briefly. There’s already no coming back from this. There’s no way to make up for the things he has already done. You’re so special, and he wants this so bad.

Your mouth sucks softly at his throat, quiet, pleased sounds spilling from your lips as he grinds the tip of his cock against your sensitive clit. Jake kisses your shoulder softly, then lowers his head to rest there as he drags his cock down to your warm entrance. You gasp softly as he presses into you, pushing forwards until he’s buried and stretching you open completely.

“Oh,” You whimper against his earlobe, pressing your nails into the swell of his shoulder blade. “You feel really fucking big.”

“So fuckin tight.” Jake grunts, his throat thick with desire as he stills inside of you, thumbs bruising into your hips. “Sweet fucking girl. Feel like you’re made just for me.”

This makes you smile into the curve of his jaw, humming in soft agreement as he starts to slowly rock his hips. Lightning flashes outside of the window, and it doesn’t matter one bit. The rest of the world is a million miles away. In here, it’s just the two of you.

“Oh fuck,” Jake shivers, eclipsing your throat with his hand, pulling you in for a heavy kiss, licking into your mouth as he drags his hips back until it’s just the tip. You gasp sharply against him as he snaps his hips forwards until he’s buried into you completely once. “Fuck. You like that?”

“Yeah. I want it like that.” You whimper into his skin, hugging your legs tight around his hips. You moan eagerly against his lips, the sound catching in your throat as he squeezes at the sides of your neck and drives his hips forwards sharply, drawing an excited squeak from your parted lips.

Jake grunts, rocking himself into you hard and fast. He’s waited so long for this, and so have you. The way you’re clawing at his back makes him want to give it all to you. Leaving feverish kisses along your collarbones, he fills you over and over. You curl both legs tighter around his waist, leaning your head back as far as you can against the couch cushion to give his lips better access to your throat.

The living room is filled with the sounds of your sex. Your desperate moans, panting and hard. Jake’s pleasured grunts, muffled softly by the curve of your shoulder. His skin slapping yours. It smells like him, smoky and mature. Sweat beads along his back and his forehead as he keeps up that merciless pace, fucking you so hard that you couldn’t tell him your own name anymore.

Jake pulls back just enough to grab the backs of your thighs and pin them to your chest, hooking your knees over his shoulders, filling you even deeper than before, making you cry out.

“Jake!” You beg, babbling incoherently into the curve of his shoulder as he goes right back to the pace he set before. Fucking you hard and fast, scrambling your brain to the point that the only thing on your mind is the ravenous way he’s staring down at you.

Your walls are squeezing around him perfectly and the sounds you’re making are just driving him insane. It’s been a long time since Jake felt as crazy about someone as he feels about you. He pants into the crook of your neck as his fingers tug at your hair, making you moan out even louder.

“I’m gonna cum — fuck, honey,” Jake grunts out like he’s been punched, his eyes screwing shut as he reaches between your bodies and rubs uniformed circles around your clit. “Are you close? — Can you cum one more time for me?”

“Yeah,” You breathe out, already trembling as you squeeze your thighs tighter around him. “Just—“ You don’t have the words, so you just reach out and grab his hand. Jake swallows hard as you wrap his open hand around the column of your throat and look up at him with that big, trusting look in your eyes again.

He grits his teeth as he squeezes at the sides of your throat, watching your sweet face contort in pleasure. Your hand dips between your legs and replaces where Jake’s had been, rubbing feverish patterns on your clit. Your stomach tightens in knots, your breathing grows heavy and Jake’s cock drives into you at just about the perfect angle each time. You open his mouth to warn him, but it’s already too late. You couldn’t find the words if you tried.

All you can do is grab onto those thick shoulders and cry out his name against the salty skin of his neck. Jake slows just slightly, offering you some reprieve through your sensitivity. Trying to be a gentleman once again. The brain fog starts to clear, you lift your head and press your lips to your earlobe.

“Cum in me,” You pant out, grabbing his shoulder to steady yourself. Jake groans against your chest, nodding his head feverishly. “Just like that, Jake, please.”

He’s relentless, fucking your through the sensitivity of your post-orgasm haze hard enough that grabbing onto those broad shoulders is the only thing that keeps you down to earth with him. Jake groans desperately. He wraps an arm under your back and pulls you as tight against him as physics will allow. You gasp softly, taking your lip between your teeth as he fills you, his cock throbbing against your walls. He seeks out your lips and kisses you hard, somehow more desperate now.

“Fuck, honey…” Jake breathes out, pressing a lazy kiss to the curve of your jaw. He makes no effort to move at first. “You alright?”

“Better than alright.” You answer contentedly, a soft smile toying at your lips as lightning flashes outside once again. Jake chuckles tiredly, lifting his head and kissing your lips.

He sighs, moving slow as he slips out of you and looks down at his cum dripping from between your legs.

“Oh, shit!” You realize, sitting up quickly and trying to reach around Jake for something to clean it with. He hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you tight against him. Truthfully, from the moment that you had laid your head on Jake’s abs, you hadn’t thought once about the consequences of fucking him right here in this spot.

“Forget it, I’ll — I’ll fix this,” He tells you calmly, already regretting that he’s going to have to live with what he has done on this couch. “Come on, cutie. Let’s go take a shower.”

It’s clear that this is foreign territory for you. Not the sex, but what comes after. He didn’t get up and leave. He didn’t run away with regret for what he did. He ran soap across your body and found your pyjamas for you.

You swallow softly, walking to sit on the edge of your bed. Jake runs a hand along his stubbled jaw as he lingers in the doorway to you room. You can’t help but notice that he got dressed again. Including his shoes. He looks you over, sitting there in fresh pyjamas, staring at him with that worried little look on your face.

He hasn’t ever seen your room here. It’s probably the one room in the house he has never been in. He’s been wondering what it’s like.

But that isn’t why he’s standing there. He sighs softly and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I should go — I mean, Ace is over there by himself.” Jake says quietly. You nod at him. You should probably say something too, but truthfully, not all of your words seem to have come back into your mind yet. “Are you coming with me?”

“Huh?”

“Well, I don’t wanna leave you over here by yourself after that weird ass movie.” Jake answers you with a shrug of his shoulders. “I figured you could just spend the night. If you want.”

Your mouth twitches at the corners as you push yourself up from the edge of your bed, nodding eagerly at him. You’ve got eleven days until your parents get back in town, and Jake permitting, you’re planning on making the most of that.

…

[pluckyredhead]

Please ship Orion and Lightray with me, thank you

If you've been reading my Fourth World posting, you might have noticed me mentioning Orion and Lightray's relationship. This is because they're in love and I'm obsessed with them. Please join me in grumpy/sunshine-but-they're-alien-demigods hell, with visual references below.

So Orion, as we know, is the son of Darkseid who was raised on New Genesis but has always felt different and monstrous compared to his peers. Lightray is his best friend, who thinks Orion is just the best thing since sliced bread and says so constantly.

This is literally how we're introduced to them, in New Gods #1:

Lightray: Don't be sad. Hug time! Orion: Hugs are not for one such as me. But you're still my best friend. Lightray: Please let me enter your chambers. Orion: NO THEY ARE TOO DARK. Lightray: D:

This panel, from #6, sums up their whole dynamic really well:

Lightray doesn't crave battle the way Orion does but he is determined to stay by his side, while Orion doesn't want Lightray to fight beside him because he thinks Lightray is too good and pure to be tainted by violence.

Zero personal space.

So one of the things about Orion is that his real face is sort of brutish and not traditionally handsome (the eyebrows are WILD), but he uses his Mother Box (like a living pocket computer that loves you) to make himself look more like the people of New Genesis. In #8, he gets into a knock-down, drag-out fight with his half-brother Kalibak that nearly kills them both, and Mother Box can't maintain the illusion (and also his face is, like, pulverized). And then this happens:

I WEEP. LIGHTRAY LOVES YOU JUST THE WAY YOU ARE, ORION.

New Gods was canceled soon after this, but when Kirby returned a decade later, he went all in on the homoerotic devotion. So Orion goes to Apokolips to kill his dad and rescue his mom, and who do you think follows him?

That second panel makes me laugh so hard. "Here, honey, you forgot your Scooty Puff Jr!"

My favorite thing about this is that Lightray is playing dumb. He shot at Orion earlier and then said something vague about missing on purpose...but he didn't:

HE REALLY TRIED TO WOUND ORION ENOUGH TO STOP HIS SUICIDE MISSION. And the way he just shuts his eyes and takes Orion's anger because he doesn't care what happens as long as he saves his friend's life...! (Orion doesn't hurt him, they just touch each other a lot.)

Anyway they argue for multiple pages, with Orion insisting that Lightray go home and Lightray insisting that he stay, until finally:

This is so intensely romantic and also so unintentionally hilarious that I can't stand it. The homoerotic gazing into one another's eyes and then the stupid mutual thumbs up! Whatever is going on with that closeup of Orion in the second panel! I die!

...And you know who else dies? Orion! Or at least he comes very close (it's unclear), but is rescued by a freedom fighter named Himon and nursed back to health by Himon and his daughter Bekka. We get a little romance between Orion and Bekka, but we also get Lightray coming to visit:

That is some FULL CONTACT wrestling, boys. Orion pinning Lightray to the ground while telling him it's good to see him is so much, but the fourth panel is even mucher. My goodness.

And then things get serious, because they both believe they are going to die in the upcoming battle (they don't), so they bid each other farewell and Lightray leaves, and then:

Orion yells after Lightray how smart and funny he is and then collapses in despair because his friend is gone. "HOW LIKE A WANDERING STAR HE SEEMS." Oh my god, Orion.

That's it for Kirby, so I'll move on to other writers and artists, but I want to clear that I'm only sharing the most intense scenes between them. There are so many panels, from Kirby and others, of Lightray faithfully following Orion around, joyously welcoming him back to New Genesis, gently teasing him, and talking about how brave and noble he is. And of Orion only smiling for Lightray, going feral when he gets hurt, and telling him he's too good and pretty for battle. And of the two of them touching each other. A lot.

Literally just two random examples. THEY DO THIS SHIT ALL THE TIME.

The next really big moment comes in New Gods (1995), where the Source (basically God/Heaven) becomes corrupted and Lightray goes evil and Orion has to beat him up to stop him and I will never ever ever recover from these pages:

"You want the beast? Do you like it?" on its own is...hoo boy, SOMETHING. But it is eclipsed by the tremulous "Maybe...maybe if I can just hold him" and Orion gathering Lightray up in his arms while telling him he loves him. LIKE. THIS IS SO MUCH. (P.S. Lightray's fine don't worry. And yes, he does want the beast.)

Then we get to Orion (PLEASE read this comic) and the biggest smile Orion has ever smolt:

Look at how happy he is!!! You need to understand that his mother died in his arms ten minutes ago and he's still like "Lightray! Omg hi!!!" (To be fair, his mother was terrible.) Plus bonus unnecessary touching, Lightray's love language being gifts, and Orion giggling and twirling his hair while going "Omg you're so smart."

(Also, when Lightray mentions his "brief but troubling visit" to Apokolips in the second panel, what's not saying is that he put on a silly disguise and went to see a fortuneteller to try to figure out if Orion's mom was lying about Darkseid not being his real dad (she was; again, she was terrible), and when the fortuneteller is like "You DARE come to Apokolips?!" he goes "I would dare anything for my friend!" I know you would, honey. I know you would.)

The next bit requires some explanation. So, as briefly as possible: Orion kills Darkseid (or so he thinks), takes over Apokolips, and tries very hard to change it for the better. He also accidentally gains possession of the Anti-Life Equation, the formula Darkseid is always searching for that eradicates free will, and gradually is driven to use it to FORCE everyone on Apokolips to be good. And Earth. And New Genesis.

Eventually, Orion is seemingly killed, but actually he's been teleported somewhere unfathomably far away, where he realizes what he's done and sinks into suicidal despair. In the midst of this, he manages to both destroy the Anti-Life Equation AND save all of reality (and nearly die in the process), but he still thinks that because he used the Equation, he's irredeemable and doesn't deserve to exist.

So when he's teleported back to Earth and captured by a human who blinds him and rigs him up to a torture device so that he can drain Orion's life force and use it to be eternally youthful, Orion just...lets it happen. Because he thinks he deserves it. For SEVEN MONTHS.

But eventually he's like "Wait...I deserve this, but probably whatever is being done with my energy is not good and I should stop it." He tries to escape but only manages to let out a single scream.

Luckily, Lightray has been searching for him nonstop for those seven months, despite the face that Orion is supposed to be dead. And then we get this:

To be clear: this is sweet, gentle Lightray absolutely obliterating the men who kept Orion in the torture device.

Nakey.

Lightray gives Orion the crushed remnants of his wrist cuffs, and Orion does a magical girl transformation about it:

For everyone playing along at home, that's the second time Orion has canonically told Lightray that he loves him.

Anyway, Orion goes off to get revenge on the guy who did this to him (it's very satisfying, please read Orion), and then he's depressed some more until he has some brotherly bonding time with Scott and finally feels well enough to go back to New Genesis. His last line of dialogue in the series is "For it is late, and the sunrise and friend Lightray await us in the gleaming city of the gods." OKAY!

Tragically, almost every New Gods appearance after this is complete dogshit, although there is a great moment in Hal Jordan and the Green Lantern Corps (a Rebirth series) where they need information from Orion but he's comatose so they bring in a telepath and the only word he can get out of Orion's mind is "Lightray." I'LL BET.

IN CONCLUSION: Orion and Lightray love each other so so much and I believe it is honoring Jack Kirby's legacy to think about them smooching. It's what the King would have wanted!

[lovecanyon]

CHEF!Y/N!!!!!!👩‍🍳

INSTAGRAM BLURB

chef!y/n x harry styles

MASTERLIST | PATREON

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capocuoca94 = y/n’s private instagram / translated from italian: chef

y/n’s owned restaurant’s instagram

italian / appassionati di pasta = english / pasta lovers

**

liked by harryfan2, harryfan6 and 309,763 others

harryflorals HARRY AND CHEF Y/N L/N OUT IN LA TODAY!

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harryfan9 his white mercedes 😫

harryfan7 WHO?!?!??!

harryfan5 isn’t y/n in charge of the tour catering?

harryfan3 i believe so

harryfan10 omg harry might be dating a chef

harryfan8 i’m going to need someone to do a background check on her 😭

harryfan4 SHUT UP

harryfan11 y/n’s instagram is private…

harryfan15 and everyone follows her including anne…

harryfan17 i fear he’s not single anymore

harryfan12 she probably cooks pasta for him 🙂

harryfan19 SO YOU'RE TELLING ME HARRY MIGHT HAVE A CHEF GIRLFRIEND

harryfan14 harry goes to y/n’s restaurants all the time too

harryfan16 news of the century

harryfan18 why do i love them already…

harryfan20 now i’m crying

harryfan13 HE’S NOT SINGLE ANYMORE?

liked by capocuoca94, harrystyles and 752,814 others

pillowpersonpp I love my personal chef 🍽

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harryfan21 OH MY GOD

harryfan23 why is y/n so gorgeous 🙃

capocuoca94 you are my favorite person ever

pillowpersonpp I am so honored ❤️

harryfan27 if sarah is besties with y/n then that means…her and harry are definitely together

paulithepsm the only chef i know

harryfan24 y/n is everyone’s favorite 😭

harry_lambert one of the best cooks in the world

harryfan29 the way harry liked this right when sarah posted it

harryfan22 he’s down bad for y/n

mollyjane_x she’s the best company 💖

harryfan25 i really want the news of y/n being harry’s girlfriend to be true 🙏

_basselin the mother to all foods

harryfan23 i better not see anyone hating on y/n

brittany_broski I LOVE HER

harryfan26 this will keep me up at night

anthonypham y/n makes the greatest food ever!!!

liked by harrystyles, stevienicks and 281,362 others

appassionatipasta Founded in 1948, the L/N’s shared their gracious and delicious Italian food to the Amalfi Coast. Not even three years later they decided to grow their business and open restaurants all over Italy. Now seven decades later, great-granddaughter Y/N L/N runs her family owned business. Labeled the best female chef by Vogue, Y/N continues to take the world by storm as she opens up restaurants around the world. Learn more about the L/N family on our website.

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harryfan30 i totally love that y/n is a chef

harryfan34 Y/N HONESTLY IS A GIRLBOSS!!!

harrystyles Truly one of the best restaurants ever.

harryfan37 harry really loves y/n if he commented this…

harryfan32 he’s supportive :,)

alessandro_michele delizioso!!!! ❤️

harryfan31 harry’s comment has me on the floor

mitchrowland my favorite spot to eat at

harryfan39 i am now a y/n fan

annetwist love visiting this place 🤍

harryfan33 “labeled the best female chef by vogue” THAT’S RIGHT

kidharpoon please open a restaurant in la!!!

appassionatipasta Hmm should we?

harryfan35 PLEASE DO

glenne_azoff y/n is one of the most talented chefs

harryfan35 i wonder if she makes harry food…

harryfan38 don’t put that idea into my head 😭

pillowpersonpp i love the l/n’s 🥰

liked by harryfan42, harryfan45 and 408,962 others

lotupdates Y/N L/N with a fan backstage who she brought to cook with her!

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harryfan40 SHE IS SO COOL WHAT THE HELL

harryfan43 i want to be the fan

harryfan47 y/n is the coolest girl harry has ever dated in his life

harryfan49 this!!!!

harryfan41 literally the girl version of harry

harryfan46 the matching aprons are so cute 😫

harryfan44 i wonder if y/n finna be in the pit

harryfan48 i love her so much for this

harryfan50 hate y/n all you want but her doing this just shows us how nice she is

harryfan52 this is the sweetest thing ever

harryfan55 okay but y/n is so gorgeous

harryfan51 y/n brought her backstage because she was an aspiring chef 😭

harryfan53 her cooking with a harrie is so sweet

harryfan56 such a cute moment

harryfan58 this made me love her

harryfan54 Y/N SUPREMACY

liked by harryfan57, harryfan60 and 402,916 others

stylesdaily UNSEEN OF HARRY AT Y/N’S RESTAURANT LAST YEAR IN ITALY!

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harryfan62 him and y/n have been a thing for that long?!

harryfan65 MUSTACHERRY 🧎‍♀️

harryfan67 he’s friends with her staff…SOBBING

harryfan61 harry really is a big fan of y/n huh

harryfan63 she has him in a chokehold 😫

harryfan66 so this basically means harry knew y/n last year…

harryfan68 going feral for him

harryfan64 i love harry with a mustache

harryfan69 “last year” WHAT 😭

harryfan71 he’s so cute

harryfan74 we got you on camera @harrystyles

harryfan76 i live for unseens of harry 🙏

harryfan70 HE WAS AT Y/N’S RESTAURANT LAST YEAR?

harryfan79 harry in italy is always the best

harryfan72 MUSTACHE HARRY MUSTACHE HARRY MUSTACHE HARRY

liked by capocuoca94, harrystyles and 902,751 others

harry_lambert Chef Y/N L/N for Better Homes & Gardens. Styled by Alessandro Michele and I.

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harryfan73 SHE’S SO HOT

harryfan75 4 + 4 = 8

harrystyles One of the most attractive women in the world.

capocuoca94 why thank you h!

harryfan77 THE CASUAL FLIRTING HAS ME CRYING 😭

emmalouisecorrin the most gorgeous girl

harryfan80 y/n literally slayed

alessandro_michele was so excited for this release!

harryfan82 harry is the luckiest man in the world

pillowpersonpp I LOVE THIS SO MUCH ❤️

harryfan85 y/n and harry flirting in a comment section is the definition of true love

harris_reed she was born to be on a magazine cover

harryfan87 i don’t know if i want to be y/n or be with her

glenne_azoff y/n looks so good!!!

harryfan81 literally on my knees for her

mollyjane_x i’ve been waiting for this 🥰

liked by harrystyles, kidharpoon and 307 others

capocuoca94 mama we did it!

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_basselin GORGEOUS GORGEOUS GIRL

emmalouisecorrin you did it y/n ❤️

harrystyles I love you my baby, I am so proud of you.

capocuoca94 i really love you more sue

harry_lambert best photoshoot ever 🥰

pillowpersonpp i need a poster size of this

jefezoff they had to put one of the bests chefs on their magazine cover!

alessandro_michele glad to be apart of this 😇

annetwist congratulations beauty, you truly deserved it!

capocuoca94 thank you ms. anne 💖

mitchrowland beignets?! don’t get me excited y/n

paulithepsm best cover ever

glenne_azoff i’m so obsessed with this

alexachung amazing! amazing! amazing!

gemmastyles you are seriously so beautiful, congrats on your cover darling

florencepugh GOD IS A WOMAN

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[theblueflower05]

Part Two. Eclipse

Summary: After a heated argument with Lo’ak, Y/N and Kiri embark on a life threatening adventure. Neteyam races against time to save them.

Word count: 6k+

Warning: Violence. A little blood & gore but just a lil bit. Descriptions of parental pressure that may be triggering.

When my heart just burst like a glass balloon,

I let it fly too high and it shattered to soon.

I was the wrong damn girl in the wrong damn room.

I broke my glass balloon. I let go of my glass balloon

- Hermit the frog, Marina.

The forests of Pandora are never still.

They're always bustling with life, in constant movement. Dancing. Breathing. A fan lizard makes its way across the overgrown flora, slow and steady. Unassuming-

“You snooze you lose”

A loud screech followed by a chorus of giggles echos through the trees.

The poor fan lizard never had a chance, is knocked clear off its path as four pre-teens , a tornado of movement and sound, fly by. Swinging from branch to branch without a care in the world, the poor creature erupts into a spinning rainbow right before colliding with the moss covered floor.

No matter, nothing matters as the four of you make your escape from the village as you so often do.

Kiri hot on your tail, Lo’ak at the helm. Spider swinging from vine to vine, holding his own despite his much smaller frame. The vivid cobalt stripes that you’d painted on him days prior still stained his skin.

The trees lessen and then thin out as Hell’s Gate comes into view.

The fortress is big, and ugly. All concrete and overgrown plants. The last remnant of the sky peoples bases, it had definitely seen better days. Since it had been abandoned over a decade ago and left to the few trusted humans it had kind of gone to shit. Scientists are great at discovering, exploring. Maintenance? Not so much.

“Wanna play some ball?” Lo’ak asks as he makes a beeline for the basketball courts. You love humans strange games, they’re useless- but their fun. Just your cup of tea.

“No, I’m gonna go check on mom” Kiri’s already leagues forward, headed towards the entrance. Barely paying any attention to her brother.

“Awe come on- it’s not like she’s not gonna still be there later. Plus we know that Norm’s keeping her plenty company” Lo’ak and Spider giggle at his jab and Kiri throws a glare over her shoulder.

Your teeth dig into your tongue as you fight to keep the smile off of your face shrugging before heading in after her.

“Not you too Y/N. Man, you guys suck. Who’s gonna play with me?”

“I'm right here, cuz” Spider exclaimed, huffing up in exasperation.

Their height difference is laughable.

The Avatar designed basketball to big to fit in Spiders hands, the last time the four of you had played he’d taken it straight to the face, his nose so broken that it never really healed right. The entire court looked like a crime scene and Max had scolded all of you.

You had to remember Spider’s human body, and it’s limits, even if he didnt want you too.

The smaller human steals the culprit of a ball from Lo’ak’s grasp and begins to dribble circles around him and Lo’ak as always, defies any kind of predestined rules.

The labs are a familiar alien. All beeping neon buttons and sterile white surfaces. Monitors filled with images you don't quite understand, no matter how many times they’re explained to you. Since the first time Kiri had brought you here, you’d been perplexed. An obsessed fascination. You liked learning new things, you liked chatting with the friendly humans.

And you liked visiting Grace.

Kiri’s mom is in one of the back corners. Submerged, a bio-tank holding her. Cradling her something like a womb. She looks peaceful, you assure your friend. Whatever dreams she’s stuck in must be good ones.

“Hi mom” Kiri whispers, her five fingered hand pressing gently against the glass. You watch her, let her run through the process of her carefully cultivated routine. She likes to talk to Grace, fill her in on everything that’s happened since the last visit.

You think she’d have a better chance of making connection a connection at the tree of souls but you keep that fact to yourself.

“Hi Grace” You place the bracelet that you’d made for her on the tank. “Kiri ate shit at the watering hole the other day. You would’ve thought it was hilarious”

And you never knew Grace, never would, but who wouldn't think Kiri faceplanting during wash day wasn't funny? If you were stuck in slumber, you’d want people to tell you jokes.

The scientists are cool, and you make your rounds. Handing out the little bracelets you’d made them. You’d just about gotten human measurements down, but they still did hang a little awkwardly off of their gangly wrists.

No matter. Doctor Kelsey is a Zoologist who had been good friends with Kiri’s mom, and had taken the initiative to teach you how to read.

Sky people letters were simple in composition, but confusing in structure. That doesn't stop you from keeping your nose buried in the books she offers. You like the vividly colored picture books better than the black and white chapter ones but to each their own.

“Hi Y/N” Doctor Kelsey greets, laughing as you reach into the cloth knapsack that you’d toted along, giving her back ‘The Lorax’, in exchange for another old semi tattered book from her library.

“How’d you like this one?” She chats as she digs through her collection

“It was very sad. They had no trees, no animals” You explain, a deep frown maring your features as you recount and retell the story you’d read. “This is how your planet is, no?”

You remember Jake telling a story about Earth. A dying star.

“Pretty much, the book was definitely supposed to be an analogy for Global Warming and mass consumption issues. Good job for picking up on that Y/N, you really have been excelling. I’m gonna give you something a little harder. If you have any issues with it, Kiri will help until you can come visit again”

She hands you a thicker book and you sound out the golden rod letters of the title.

“Pet-her pahn?”

“Peter Pan” She corrects good naturedly “I think you’ll like this one, it's about a boy that never wants to grow up”

“Are you sure you don’t want to give this to Lo’ak instead?” You deadpan and Doctor Kelsey lets out a peel of laughter.

She reads the first couple chapters out loud to you and Kiri before having to return to her work. You both listen, ears twitching with interest. You pack the fragile book safely into your knapsack before you leave.

----------

It’s nearing eclipse and you know you really should be getting home- instead you sit crossed legged on a step, your face twisted into a deep scowl.

You spend more time at Hell’s Gate than you should, your parents remind you of the fact often, but you love it here. You can make the trek home in your sleep.

Which is why you’re less worried about the waning sunlight. More concerned with the words that had just come out of Lo’ak’s mouth.

“You guys could never do it, and not even because you're girls. Ma’s a girl, lots of hunters are. You’re just wusses” He taunts, chest all puffed out.

He’d been like this, ego inflated to the nines since he’d come back from the mountains a few days ago, actually in flight this time. A wriggling yelping Ikran below him and air of self importance that he just couldn't seem to shake.

Scratch the fact that you and Kiri had just handed him his own ass at H.O.R.S.E.

“Didn't it take you like three times and a concussion to tame your ikran?” You sneer and Spider lets out a huff of a chuckle, coughing when Lo’ak side eyes him.

“It was only two-” He starts and Kiri shakes her head, cutting him off quick.

“It can't be hard if you were able to do it. I mean, think about the Tayrangi, in their clan even the children ride. It wouldn’t be that hard to go up to the mountains and claim one”

Somehow it ended up like this most days. Kiri and Lo’ak on opposing views. Bickering until your ears hurt. You and Spider innocent on lookers, casualties of war as you alternated whos allegiance to pledge. Well Spider did, even if Lo’ak was right on the money and Kiri was dead wrong you’d stand beside her.

“Yeah so? We aren't coast people. I bet you couldn't even make it up the mountain. You’d shit your pants before you even tried. What would you do Kiri? Try to hug your ikran into submission” His words are laced with condescending laughter.

You shouldn't take it so personally, Lo’ak can be a dick. He doesn't even mean to be most of the time.

But it hits a sensitive raw nerve in your chest, the same one that had been hammered endlessly for years. To be a hunter, you have to ride. To be a hunter, you have to train. To be a hunter, you have to want to be one, right? You can't run away from it at every turn…

“We’re gonna have to do it eventually” You grit out.

“Yeah, sure” he drawls out the ‘e’ “I think you should probably just stick to your beadworking. You know, things you’re actually good at”

In the blink of an eye Lo’ak is drenched in what remained of your banana fruit juice, you’d emptied the canteen right in his stupid face. He blinks in surprise, his mouth falling open, tail going ramrod straight

“You’re such a douchebag” You hiss. You don't completely know what that word means, but you’d heard the sky people throw it around a handful of times and knew that it was nothing good.

“You head straight for the forest without another word. Face hot and eyes stinging.

“Why would you say that?” Kiri glares at her younger brother who looks completely shocked, ears flat and mouth open.

“What? Tell her that she’s good at something? That’s the last time I try to be nice, shit. Grandmother just re-braided my hair” Lo’ak moans as he he rakes his hands down his face, over his chest and through his hair. He’s already sticky.

“Dont be so dense. That wasn't cool and you know it” She sighs, before following you.

“Girls are psychotic” Lo’ak laments, and Spider just shakes his head.

“Yeah, totally”

---------

The forest has already started to glow, the path home bioluminescent which just makes your furious steps even faster. You didn't want to get in trouble with your parents too. They already weren’t going too be thrilled about you ditching babysitting duty to go hang out at the ‘cursed place’

“Wait up!”

You huff and clear the jump between branches in a clean swoop of a jump.

“Come on! Dont be mad at me I didn't do anything!” Kiri exclaimes jumping after you and nearly running into your back as you stop dead, waiting.

“I'm not mad, okay. I'm just-” You shake your head with a sigh. Not wanting to speak the words in your head. “Come on, we need to get home”

“Its okay to be mad at Lo’ak. My dad is, like, all the time” Kiri tries to soothe as the two of you continue your route.

“I can't be mad at someone who was only telling the truth”

“That wasn't the truth. That was him trying to pacify himself over the fact that he didn't get it first try like Neteyam”

Your stomach flutters when Kiri mentions her eldest brother, as it always does. You ignore it like you always do.

Pushing on further, faster, until the twinkling warm lights of the village come into view. They’ve already started preparing for the night and you need to start preparing for the earful you’re about to get.

Your heartbeat goes tense and anxiety creeps up your spine, your tail flicking in rapid jerky motions.

Kiri doesn't pry, she never needs to. She lets you huff and puff and stomp all the way back home, knowing that you’ll spill.

You lean against the bark of the trunk, your arms crossing over your chest as you look at your friend. She stands in front of you, expectant but not forceful. Already knowing whats bothering you, you’d vented about this particular issue so many times in the past.

“At least he got it, eventually. Didn't get himself killed like so many have before him- Kiri I don't know how I'm ever supposed to do that. My parents-” you choke on the word parents, have to swallow up the word vomit “My mom wants me to start really focusing on training and I just-”

“Don't want to?” Kiri offers.

“Completely suck at it. Everyone keeps telling me that it’s gonna get easier, it's in my blood, but I’m not a warrior. I don’t feel it, you know. I just want to read my new book, and make a necklace with those stones we found at the river. And gossip with the girls'' You sigh because why can't it be so easy?

“I think you’d be a great village gossip, we should ask my father if he can make that your official title”

You laugh in spite of yourself and your soured mood “It’s not funny. I'm never going to be what they want me to be. There's no way I’m ever going to be able to tame an ikran. He’s right”

“You don't really think that”

“No I really do. Im pretty sure I’d break my neck trying. I fall of direhorses all the time”

“You can also hit a moving target with your eyes closed. You don't have to be good at all things, all the time Y/N. It’s impossible” She reaches out to pat your shoulder.

“Try telling my mom that '' You sigh, and bring your hands to face, covering your eyes as you talk “I just don't want to disappoint everybody when I’m not able to do it. When I’m not able to complete my Inknamaya and become this great warrior they keep talking about. They’ll all come up to watch me get eaten by my own ikran”

“Would it be easier if they weren't watching?” Kiri offers solutions.

Probably so, but she knows how your family is. You remind her of the fact.

“What if we tried without them…if you didn't feel like you needed to perform, maybe you wouldn't be so in your head the whole time?” Kiri always has the worst plans. Seriously. But this one tops the cake.

You pull your hands from your face to glare at her incredulously. “You’re not serious”

“Why not? Tayrangi kids do it while they’re still in diapers, they don't have any training for it- they know what to do in their hearts. The great mother guides them through it”

“Kiri. Absolutely not”

“Think about it, cause I have. Even before tonight with my stupid brother. Tsaheylu is sacred, we know how to make it from the moment we’re birthed. It doesnt need to be browbeaten into us, we don't have to do it everyone else's way. My mother made the bond with a palulukan! And my father with Taruk? Who taught them how to do that?”

You shake your head because she’s far too good at convincing herself that her asinine ideas aren't exactly that.

You’ve seen the way the forest interacts with her, you know how special she is…but this would certainly get you both killed. Thirteen is young to make the bond with an Ikran anyway. Even the highly skilled, trained and ready warriors have trouble with it.

You're shaking your head, arms back tightly crossed over your chest, about to go full older sister mode when there's a rustling in the nearest tree.

Two sets of ears twitch, focused on what's coming-

“Lo’ak? Kiri?- There you are!”

Neteyam swings in from above, lands gracefully on his feet in front of you.

His amber orbs scan quickly over you both, apprising and slightly annoyed and your stomach does its tell tale flutter. Having him so close, tall and looming never does good things to your weak, wanting heart.

“You do realize that you were supposed to be home hours ago- it's almost eclipse. Mom and dad are pissed, he would have come out himself if Norm hadn’t radioed in that you all we’re using Hell’s Gate as a playground again”

Neteyam sounds every bit his role. Future clan leader, semi disgruntled older brother.

“It's not even eclipse yet, there's still light” Kiri is reaching, it's all but dark out. “Right Y/N?”

“Right? We definitely had a quarter hour left at least, if anything we’re right on time” You nod, catching her line of bullshit and rolling with it.

Neteyam pinches the bridge of his nose. “Your parents are upset too Y/N. I wouldn't use that line with them if I was you”

The anxious flick of your tail comes back full force “Like really upset? Or just- a little bit?”

His deadpan face tells it all. “Where is Lo’ak?

Another shuffle in the trees, leaves and smaller branches swaying. Lo’ak appears, obviously behind. He doesn't land nearly as gracefully as Neteyam.

“I’m right here bro, chill out” Lo’ak’s eyes meet yours briefly and you huff, still upset clearly.

Your nose is high in the air as you turn away. If you had to get scolded, you’d do it with some kind of dignity- and he could fuck right off.

“What is all over you?” Neteyam questions his brother from behind you, plucking at his one of his younger brothers sticky braids.

----------

Its an accumulation of things, your mother tells you. She doesn't scream, but the tongue lashing is no less intense. No, if anything it's worse. You can't look her in the face.

Its an accumulation of things, she tells you. It’s your disregard of your duties, who would have watched your little sisters had an Aunt not volunteered to do what you should’ve. You are to watch over them while she’s partoling and you know that.

It’s your training, or lack thereof. You can't get better if you don't put in the effort. If you don't focus.

“It’s this streak of immaturity , Y/N. You are not a childling anymore. By the time I was your age I was helping feed our community, I had found myself within the people. I want that for you- and you disappoint me at every chance”

Your ears are plastered to the side of your head the entire time, your tail wrapped around your calf. You take it wordlessly, blinking furiously at the tears because you can. Not. Cry.

“Are we done?” You croak and your mother looks like she might cry herself. Instead she nods and you sprint as quickly as you can away. Only when she can't see your face do you let the tears roll fast and hot.

It's later in the night, laying with your family on your cot. Staring at the star filled sky that you recount your mothers words.

Disappoint me.

You disappoint me.

Somewhere, somehow, Kiri’s get mixed in.

What if we tried without them?

-----------

To tame an Ikran, you have to go where the Ikrans are.

This was known by all. You’d heard stories of how tedious the journey was, but as you make it yourself, you realize that all before you had minimized its nature.

You and Kiri had taken direhorses out in the early morning under the guise of foraging for berries that you had spotted a week before when visiting the lab. They hadn't been ready to pick then, somehow your Grandfather buys it. Sends you out with a kiss on the forehead.

You're glad your mother is out hunting, she wouldn't have been such an easy sell.

It was early, when you’d left. The sun just rising. Now it is high in the sky, shining brightly as the two of you ride as far down the path as you can go on horseback. The path is narrow and carved into the face of a steep cliff. Rocks crumble away, you soothe the gentle beast beneath you.

Kiri seems to be doing the same for you. Turning back to look at you every few minutes.

“How do you know where we’re going?” You’d questioned her when she’d offered to lead the way.

“I just know. Eywa will show us”

To anyone else that might have not been enough. You follow her eagerly.

The direhorses can only take you so far- before its time to climb.

And climb you do.

The two of you scale the floating mountains none too fast. Its treacherous unstable ground, the wind shifting the terrain with every breeze and you never quite feel like you have your sure footing.

You’d grown up in hometree. They say it isn't as large as the one that your parents grew up in, that the sky people destroyed, but it still towers high. You’d ridden on the back of your mothers ikran, you'd climbed to the top of lovers Peak to watch the great colors in the sky.

You were no stranger to heights, but as Kiri jumps, and latches on to a weak looking vine in mid air you hesitate. You stop for a moment, and look below you.

All you can see are clouds, misty and white. So high up that you can't even see the ground.

“Come on, Y/N!” she calls for you and you gulp. Breath through your nose and take the leap.

The journey is laborious, and feels like it lasts forever. By the time the two of you make it to the entrance of the mouth of the cave you are both covered in sweat, panting profusely. Your arm muscles scream at the intense treatment. You reach a hand out, sweeping through one of the waterfalls that seem to fall into nothing.

Rub the cool liquid on the back of your neck.

It was hell to get to, but the mountain of the Ikran is beautiful.

They fly in the hundreds here, screeching and circling each other in the sky, sweeping from mountain to mountain. Their breeding grounds lush with waterfalls and fungi.

Looking down, down through the gaps of clouds you can see the forest below. It looks so small and and far away. Your stomach lurches, you feel like you’re flying already.

“We made it. I can't believe we made it. Thank you great mother” Kiri whispers, her hands clutching her chest.

“Don't thank her quite yet, we still haven't gotten through the hard part” You remind her- because its there. Looming just out of sight.

There is only a moment to catch your bearings, before you settle in on what you came for.

“We can still go back” Kiri offers. She has to. You don't have to do this.

You shake your head. “No, we can't. We came all this way and I’m never climbing this mountain again”

It’s through one of the waterfalls, the sound of rushing water filling your ever twitching ears as you pay close attention to your footing on the narrow, slippery ledge. It’s white noise, the first peace you’d had since the start of your climb.

“How will we know if an Ikran chooses us?” one of your peers had asked during training and Jake had smiled. All to canine.

“It’ll try to kill you”

You fist the bolo rope you’d brough until the leather digs deep into your palm as they come into view. All of them, dozens. Ikrans of all colors and sizes are seated at what looks like a basking site. They slowly become aware of the outside intrusion, and then its eyes. So many of them. All focused on you and Kiri.

“How are we gonna do this?” You whisper to her, heart pounding in your throat. Adrenaline rushing protectively through your veins.

“I’m not sure yet” She replies very unhelpfully.. Of course It goes the way all things go with Kiri.

Strange.

She doesn't seem as scared as you are, she steps lightly around the winged creatures, whispering all the while. You’re glued to your spot, still not far from where you’d entered. You’d seen your friend do a number of weird things, unexplainable things. But this…was something else. She approaches an Ikran. And it doesn't try to kill her.

No, the mostly chartreuse creature cocks its head at her. Skittish and unsure. You’re too far away to hear what she's saying but Kiri keeps whispering. Talk to it, as one does a child. A smile on her face, her arm outstretched and welcoming.

“Kiri don’t!”

You’re trying to figure out how exactly you’re going to explain a missing arm to her family when she takes a hold of her que, and simple as anything, connect it to her ikrans.

The gasp you let out leaves your throat sore.

You’re confused. Cant believe your eyes. You’re still in disbelief when she takes flight, the green and silver of the wings sparking in the high alkaline sunshine. Kiri soars through the air- making a wide turn, and coming back to where you’re still rooted.

“How did you do that?!” Your voice breaks and your eyes are wide as saucers.

“I asked her if she wanted to be my friend!” Kiri hollers back. Completely serious. “You can do it Y/N! You’ve gotta, this is amazing! She yells “You’ve got this!”

And you want it, so badly.

You want to be in the air with her, you don't want to go back to the village riding her coat tails and reeking of defeat. You have to do this, you square your shoulders,

“I’ve got this!” You reply, even though you keep thinking about Lo’ak’s unconscious body on the back of Neytiri’s ikran the first time he’d tried this. He’d been knocked unconscious, head bloody and his mom had had to carry him home.

It is glaringly apparent as you take the steps that your friend had just made, that this is not going to go the same way for you.

Where the banshee’s seemed to be at peace with her being here on their territory they reacted completely differently as you approach. Wailing loudly, scattering. Hostile and ready to strike.

They didn't want to be your friend.

Everytime you get close, they take off, jumping ship. Taking to the skies.

Until one doesn't.

Perched on a rock, the creature looks at you with a sharp turquoise eye. Only one, the other is scared, disfigured from past battle. She’s huge and dark purple. So dark she looks shiny with it, the orange, green and magenta splotches on her skin give the appearance of an oil slick.

She’s nothing like the pretty, feminine ikrans you’d so admired growing up. She’s fierce and terrifying and for a moment you think that there's no way she’s choosing you.

“Oh shit” you hear Kiri, distantly.

The ikran opens her massive jaws and lets out a roar that shakes you to your core.

“It’ll try to kill you” Jake had answered the question. Training young hunters to the best of his ability “And you’ve gotta call their bluff”

You muster a fierce hiss, even though you feel anything but, and then its on.

Lightening quick, chaos ensues. A tangle of limbs and wings. You can't wrap your mind around what's happening, there’s no room for any other thoughts then make tsaheylu. You have to follow your body, trust it. But it's so hard when something three times your size is struggling against you, trying to take any chance it has to kill you.

“Make the bond!”

You get the bolo wrapped around its gnashing jaws and chalk it up to pure luck. In the next moment one of it’s wings expands violently, throwing you back. Luckily not straight over the edge, but against the rough rocky wall opposite.

Your head connects with a sickening thud.

Your world goes dark, the pain on the right side of your face excruciating and your ears ringing from the impact. Or is that Kiri screaming? You force yourself to collect your bearings, forcing up onto your knees. You can taste metallic in your mouth and your head feels too heavy for your neck to hold.

A flash of purple brings your eyes back to focus.

NO.

The ikran is going to take flight, her wings outstretched. She’s going to leave and you’re never going to have another chance. You’re going to have to ride back home bloody and defeated. A loser who never should’ve tried. You’re going to disappoint your family, again. You won't be able to bring this glory to them-

You didnt come this far to go back empty handed. You weren't going to get in trouble for nothing.

The ikran takes off disappearing over the edge.

And you jump off the cliff behind her.

-----------

Jake is making his rounds, there’s so many of them now a days. He checks in with Mo’at, runs perimeter. Takes account of his people, and wonders if the imposter syndrome will ever fade. Tuk is still just young enough that she sticks to his side like glue.

“Daddy, look at this!” “Daddy, what’s that!”

A part of him wishes all of his children were still 5 years old. Still thought he hung the stars just for them. Instead he barely knew where they were anymore. Teenagers are still teeangers no matter what planet they’re on.

He does mental intake- Neteyam would no doubt be leading training. Kiri off somewhere with Y/N, and Lo’ak was hunting with Neytiri so for once Jake didn't need to worry about him.

Everything was fine. Everything was great…so why did he have this gnawing feeling in his gut that it wasn't?

It’s okay, this is why he’d given his family coms, so that he could check in whenever he wanted to.

He touches base with Neytiri first, her and Lo’ak are fine and he better not mess up her shot again.

Then Neteyam, he’ll be on stand-bye if needed.

“Kiri, I need your six. Over” He’s met with dead silence. He tries again, and again only for the same result. And that’s not normal. Kiri, at this age, will usually reply with some sarcastic smart ass quip. Captain dad, she calls him.

She’s never gone radio silent. And Jake’s gut has never lead him astray. Something’s wrong.

Tuk is pulling on his hand, taking his ear off but he’s sinking into a place he knows all too well- he can't panic. His brains not hardwired for that, too many battlefields, too much experience.

“Neteyam? When was the last time you saw Kiri, over?”

The first place he looks for his daughter is with Y/N, the two are practically conjoined at this point. You aren't to be found at your hut, but your grandfather tells him that the two of you had gone gathering. Bubble berries, its their season but the timing doesn't match- if his daughter had left this morning, she’d be back by now.

Jake’s in full military mode, furiously barking out orders.

A search party needed to be dispersed. Now. He’s gathering his men when Vitany, your mother touches ground. She’s confused, and then she’s fearful. He can see his own emotions mirrored in her eyes. She’s a great warrior, one of his best. She’d fought beside him for the last decade. No fear, heart of a lion. That all tends to go out of the window the moment your child is involved.

“Ma’ Jake!”

As Neytiri and Lo’ak land, having raced home from hunting at the news- his wife looks much the same. Terrified, confused. Shooting off question after question, where can they be? Where do they start?.

He’s about to take flight- to follow the search party.

“Dad!” Its Neteyam, and along with him he’s toting Spider. A gentle but firm grip on the younger, smaller boy's shoulder.

“What’s going on? What is it?”

“You need to tell them what you told me” his eldest son urges the human boy “Right now”

Jake’s always felt for Spider. A kid misplaced forever on a planet not his own. With people who could never and would never see him as anything but an alien.

All eyes are on him.

“It was uh, it was like a week ago. When they came to visit Hell’s Gate. We all got into it about ikran riding and how Kiri and Y/N weren't cut out for it. Kiri said that she could do it a different way like the Tayrangi Clan did, and Y/N just got really pissed at Lo’ak and left-”

“Is this true?” Neytiri looks to Lo’ak who hangs his head. But nods in agreement.

“What are you saying?” Jake presses, because he needs a solid answer.

“I think that they might have gone into the mountains. To try and tame ikrans” Spider finishes and Neteyam lets go of his shoulder, his hand slightly shaking.

“No” Vitany gasps horrified. Her daughter isn't trained enough. What the human boy just spoke of is certain death, she's on the back of her own ikran within seconds, taking off as fast as she can.

Racing towards the breeding grounds. Neytiri is hot on her trail.

“Neteyam, I need you with me, let's go!” Jake calls for Bob, high pitched bird sounds, and the beast lands at his feet, ever loyal. Looking at him, Jake remembers just what it took to tame him-

“Not you” He bellows, already mid flight. Catches his youngest son gripping his reins. Lo’ak protests, his eyes watery as the weight of his actions weigh down heavily on him.

“Dad, please”

“You’ve done enough”

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

Neteyam spends most his life in flight, since he had passed his rite of taming Atanzaw(lightning) years ago, he never wanted to touch ground.

He felt most himself in the sky. Free, lost to the vastness of the wind. He’d take any hunting, scouting or perimeter control shifts he could get his hands on, as long as he could fly.

It's an unusual feeling, being on ikrab back and having his stomach tied into knots. Being so worried that he can barely breathe.

He has to keep his mind clear to keep Atanzaw flying straight, piercing through the clouds like a bullet. He can't imagine his sister mauled to death or her best friend thrown to her death. It is too much.

He let his guard down, he knew he needed to help keep a closer eye on his siblings when his mother was hunting and he let his fucking guard down.

Kiri and Y/N we’re always running off, but never far. He could always track one’s movement by the other’s. Keeping an eye on Y/N had become a part of his routine, and he’d slacked.

Y/N hadn’t shown up for training and he should’ve known something was wrong- but she’d been off all week. Upset at something that was none of his business to uncover. Overworking herself, walking away from friends that she’d usually spend her time chattering with.

Shit.

He’s better than this. He’s going to be Olo’ekteyan someday, how is he supposed to keep the people safe if he can't even keep his sister safe? He’s wallowing in could’ve, would’ve should’ve’s when he hears a scream.

Neteyam banks against the wind, using all his strength to pull himself and Atanzaw in the other direction. Towards the screams, towards where his sister and her friend we’re undoubtedly in imminent danger.

He doesn't get shocked much, and when he does, he’s always able to hide it. Able to handle it enough that no one even noticed.

His mouth hangs open and his ears point straight at the sight that greets him.

No longer is the sky filled with screams, but with girlish giggles. Yelps and ikran caterwauls.

Kiri and Y/N do barrel rolls around each other, in hysterics as they play in the clouds. Both of them sat atop their respective ikran- not dead. Not dying. But frolicking, like schoolgirls. Like they didn't just give the village a collective fucking stroke.

Neteyam is angry, furious even. But more so, he’s impressed. That combined with the shock is a potent mix in his system and he can help but let out an incredulous laugh. Somehow the two of you were not only alive, but flying, bareback. Had climbed the Hallelujah mountains alone, and tamed ikran.

You were both in so much fucking trouble.

A|N: Okay I know the story is lacking Neteyam right now, buttttt I just needed to get through with the set up. All of the rest of the chapters will be very Neteyam x Reader heavy.

Also- I read an article that said this is how Kiri bonded with her Ikran in the comics? And thought it was rad. I had to roll with it.

Please comment and tell me what you think! And what you wanna see in future parts! More interaction will always mean quicker updates.

[alienwritestoo]

Philza Minecraft is a wizard who accidentally became immortal after meditating too hard.

Missa Sinfonia is an engineering student who got turned into an vampire after going to his first (and only) frat party.

Decades later, they bump into each other at the bar Forever Anonymous.

------

"So you... don't want to be immortal?" Philza eyes his drinking partner.

"Hell no," Missa scoffs. "I have to get my engineering degree again." He puts his head in his hands. "I chose the wrong career for being a vampire, man."

"Oh thank god." The blond wizard relaxes. "I thought I was the only one who hates immortality, mate." He puts on his hat. "Say, I've been researching a way to reverse it. Want to join me?"

The dark haired vampire clasps his hand desperately. "Please!"

------

Years pass in their pursuit to reclaim their mortality. Missa makes himself helpful to the cause- "It's okay to take a break Philza, have some enchiladas so I can live vicariously through you!"- and fashions them in the mortal regalia of the decade as time slips through their fingers like quicksand. He keeps them to a schedule of new names, new jobs, and new towns so nothing inconvenient props up once they've figured out the cure.

They take a small detour for Philza to conquer Antarctica for a couple of decades, but it was well worth it for the penguins. And it helps that there's never much sunlight during the times of year they're there, and the vampire can't really feel cold. It becomes Missa's favorite vacation destination.

Returning to their home in not-Antarctica is less exciting for a vampire who can't be in the sunlight.

"Are we there yet?" Missa complains as he sits at their normal kitchen table, eying Philza's sandwich mournfully as it sits untouched and unappreciated.

"Not yet." Philza smashes golden applies into a blender hooked up to an absurd amount of redstone circuits behind the wall. His eyes glow purple as he waves his wand, mummering an incantation as the machine screeches impassively. "Maybe this will work?"

Missa drops his head and sighs. Being an immortal vampire can be very, very boring. Maybe he should visit the penguins and see his Great, Great, Great Grandchicks.

------

Philza sighs as he rolls into bed. He waits for ten minutes before slipping into Missa's room and pretending to be really, really cold.

"No problemo, Philza," Missa says as he opens his cold arms wide. "I'll warm you up." He teases with a quirk to his lips.

The wizard sinks gratefully into the cool skinned embrace of his vampiric companion. A couple of decades ago, his face would be turned carefully away in embarrassment while spending time internally combating a sexuality crisis, but the immortal has long realized that labels are bullshit and he can ask for a hug if he wants one, dammit.

"What's on your mind?" The cold-skinned vampire asks him, seeing right through his bullshit.

"Forever told me he's in love with me." Philza confesses softly as he lies prone in Missa's embrace. "But he's not actually, because I remind him of his old partner from when he was mortal. Same hair, eyes, taste in clothing-" His chest grows tense. "I saw the pictures. Which I know it's really sad that Forever's life partner was mortal and gone, but I hate that it means I'm being seen as an imitation of someone else instead of the person I am. And it's not like I reciprocate his feelings-" He glances up at Missa. "But I wish we were at least friends, you know?"

Missa huffs. "He's a pendejo, Philza. We should going to his terrible bar."

"We did meet there." Philza reminds him, both amused and pleased by his partner's defensiveness on his behalf.

"We'll go to other bars!" Missa counters irritably.

"There aren't any other immortal bars, Missa." Philza points out logically.

"Well, he has to pay somehow." Missa's grip tightens in anger with vampiric strength, before he remembers himself and loosens his hold. "I'm not letting him get away with treating you like a convenient replacement for a ghost. It's rude, man!"

"We'll think of something." Philza placates with a suppressed smile. "Let's sleep on it. Okay?"

Missa hurumps and settles down to meditate. "Only if we think of something better. Otherwise, you know I'll burn that place down, Philza."

They both drift into unconsciousness and wake later with revenge in mind.

------

The strange pair walks into the latest government's registration office right before close in winter. They complete an absurd of paperwork and giggle as they walk out.

A few weeks later, they receive marriage certifications in the mail and proudly display them above a picture of a sulking Forever.

When their friends ask why, Missa starts to theatrically sob and accuse them of not believing in true love. Philza, without an ounce of shame, always just laughs.

They both refuse to elaborate.

------

"Ta da!" Missa jazz hands as he slides into view. "I found us a son!"

Philza blinks as he stands in the foyer of their home, looking down at the dragon hatchling stabbing him in the leg with a wooden sword. "A what now?"

The child is wearing a duck floatie. They don't own a pool. He has never been more confused in his life.

Philza accepts he has a son minutes later after listening to a peacefully dull, ordinary tale that makes him relax about the decision his husband made. Something about an adoption center ran by polar bears, a "Federation" kidnapping them at some point, inconsequential stuff. They could absolutely raise this child with no worries whatsoever.

He corrects the child's form. "Now this is the way to stab someone, mate." The child chuffs happily and proceeds to stab him a bit better than last time. The immortal wizard looks up at his husband. "What's his name again?"

"Chayanne!" The vampire' grin drops at the murder in Philza's eyes.

"I thought I said that name is banned in this house!" Philza yelled, chasing him around the house with his son's wooden sword. "No cheating!"

"I'm sorry!" Missa wailed before getting thwacked. "Its a good name!"

The name inevitably sticks after the dragon hatchling refuses to answer to anything else. The immortal family of two swiftly, and spiritedly, becomes three.

------

"How did we meet again?" Missa asks his husband as they curl up around the fireplace.

"Oh that?" Philza hums considerably. "I think we were at Forever's bar and bonded over something we both really, really hated. Can't remember what it was, though."

Missa gasps. "Wait, I know!"

"What was it?"

"Engineering." The vampire says gravely.

"No wonder mate." Philza groans. "Not worth relearning how things actually work every decade."

"I know, right?" Missa says, sitting up as he becomes more passionate. "I'm so glad I switched careers to creating destruction wherever I go and reaping mortal souls by drinking all their blood like a mortal Capri sun."

"That really is so much better, king." Philza agrees. "I think Chayanne would be perfect at that when he's older."

"He's 200 years old, cariño." Missa reminded him. "Our little huevo chose to fight God with Uncle Etolies, remember?"

"Oh yeah, I remember now." Philza lies. "I heard on the news, after the Capri Sun ad, which, I don't know how that company lasted so long-

Missa suspiciously smirks. All the employees are his minions.

"-That the sun's going to collide with the earth in the next five years."

"Can it be sooner than that? I can barely remember Forever, and he's got a name that we have to say all the time." Missa groans. "Immortality, forever, whatever man!"

"Yeah our memory's fucked." Philza chuckles.

The married immortals stare into the fireplace and hope they haven't forgotten anything important. They go to bed to meditate the night away.

"Shit shit shit!"Missa slaps Philza out of his trance, who rolls over in protest. "Get up, old man!" A bucket of water dumps over his head. And then lava, which tickles. "We forgot Chayanne's birthday!"

------

End of fic

[eleanor-bradstreet]

The Field: Back to Autumn (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader Modern AU Rated: G - grief, character death Word count: 1.8k

Part 3: In a Week Masterpost

Author's Note: The last in a four-part series based on songs about fields/nature that I associate with Benedict. This finale is based on the song Back to Autumn by Tall Heights. Thank you to everyone who has followed along with this lifelong love story 💙

Decades later

The snow would not deter him. He had planned on going to see you and so he would. And he needed to bring flowers. Nothing too delicate. Something beautiful that wouldn’t wither immediately in the cold winds. There was always Clyvedon lavender in the storeroom - it would be perfect. He selected a fragrant bunch, pulled on his boots and wrapped himself in layers before stepping out into the snowglobe. The entire world was white and muffled into silence despite the wind that swirled the soft flakes around him. The only sounds were his own breath and the crunching of his footsteps. It was rare to get such a blanketing snowfall, but then again everything seemed strange and out of sorts these days. He moved slowly, a solitary figure dressed in black, picking his way across the blank grounds of Aubrey Hall. His knees creaked. A walk of this distance was hell on his arthritis and he probably needed a cane, which was something you had heckled him about. But he didn’t want to acknowledge his decrepitude, not yet, and he would keep making the journey to visit you, snow, rain or shine.

The tips of his fingers and nose had started to numb by the time he reached the field but he couldn’t be fussed to care. Being there set his mind on other things entirely. A lifetime of memories. The paintings, the wedding, the annual dandelion harvest for the estate’s wine production - a quirky cottage industry you had started which was happily carried on by the subsequent generation of Bridgertons. So much colorful life had played out on the field as if it were a stage. Now muted, the curtains drawn for the winter, it seemed unremarkable, indistinguishable from the others surrounding it. Except for one hallowed corner tucked by the treeline where there was a rise in the snow.

Taking a deep breath, he moved to stand before it. The joyful kaleidoscope of his memories in the field had been fractured when it also became the site of your grave. Then it had grown to be a bittersweet place of memorial. He coped by visiting you every two weeks without fail. He reasoned it was good exercise but he also found something curative in speaking to you, giving you updates on the family, his latest musings and frustrations. But that sense of peace had been threatened by recent events, the kaleidoscope at risk of shattering entirely. Because now he had to adapt to the sight of the new plot beside yours, the freshly turned earth mounded under a light cover of snow.

Anthony heaved a sigh that escaped in mist. He had known it would happen eventually but had never allowed himself to envision it. Selfishly he had hoped to pass first so that he wouldn’t have to bear witness. But Benedict had been so utterly bereft after losing you, moving through life like a walking wound, that it was clear he wouldn’t linger without you for very long. The illness that had marked your final months had drained him of energy. The only fuel he seemed to still possess was the power to love. Anthony knew that if the force of his love could have lengthened your years you would have lived forever, well beyond any of them. Benedict had managed for just over a year, physically depleting while his heart only seemed to grow larger and encompass all of the family that surrounded him. But none of them could mend the hole you had left and at last he had joined you, never waking from a nap in his studio, a half-finished portrait of your younger self before him. 

That was two weeks ago and now he had taken his designated spot beside you. When you had known you were facing the end, you and Benedict had requested Anthony’s permission to make the field your final resting place. Though his jaw clenched and his eyes grew haunted, he had immediately agreed. It had given you a degree of comfort in those final, painful days, knowing that you were headed for your favorite place. The irony managed to bring a smile to your face, that you would indeed lay in the field forever as you had imagined doing in such a macabre fashion years ago. You and Benedict had called a number of places home over your years together and had filled each of them with love, but no place was as dear to your hearts as the field and you knew that its private magic would be preserved by the Bridgerton family for generations to come. 

Anthony stared at the grave. He was no stranger to grief but it was a new experience to lose a sibling. He supposed he should be grateful that he had held onto them all for as long as he had. But Benedict had left a particular void in his wearying soul. He had not only lost a brother, he had lost his closest friend, his confidante, his advisor. The man with such a magnitude of compassion that it forced his own better nature to show itself. Now without his gentle guidance, Anthony clung to the scant consolation that his brother would always be on the grounds with him. He was grateful that they would be touching the same tracts of earth and he hoped that would help him to channel Benedict somehow, to feel his force in a way that would help him steady the helm of the family for the remainder of his days.

He had never been prone to sentimentality, had never seen any use in being wistful about the past. But as he stood alone in the chilling winds he wished for one thing. He wished he could go back in time to certain happy moments in the hopes that they would soothe the gnawing grief of his present. Any moment spent with you and Benedict would have comforted him, but there were some that stood out as the most vividly joyful. He recalled one autumn when the entire family had gathered at the house. With all of his siblings married, it was becoming something harder and harder to accomplish. But everyone was there with their spouses and children, as well as his mother and her new beau. Looking around at them all, he was overcome by a novel sense of peace, almost as if he had achieved a milestone and could now release some of his anxiety. But the moment was short-lived as he watched you back out of a conversation across the room and slip through the french doors to the terrace. Benedict, Kate and Phillip stared after you awkwardly before Benedict mumbled something and took off in another direction through the house. 

Anthony had been worried. It was unlike the two of you to look anything but blissful together and it stung a little that you had run off alone rather than come to him for help. Ever the unshakable leader, he had downplayed whatever was happening and guided everyone to happy distractions. But a fear had lingered. A fear that something was seriously wrong between you and Benedict. A fear that his sense of peace had been misplaced. It grew more insistent as the hours passed but was dispelled entirely when you and Benedict finally returned, glowing, with arms around each other. Your laughter and reassurance had calmed everyone and the family was made whole again. The entire Bridgerton clan gathered around a bright fire, drinks in hand with the children asleep upstairs. Every Bridgerton was entwined with their partner but none so tightly as you and Benedict. There was something reinvigorated in the way you looked at each other, a magnetism so evident that to doubt it felt akin to doubting gravity. It was then that Anthony’s heart settled, sighing contentedly as he wrapped an arm around Kate. His family was safe. His family was happy. And they had their whole lives ahead of them. He wanted to go back to that autumn.

Or if not that autumn, to another treasured day. The day of your and Benedict’s wedding, the first and only one he had officiated. He had been daunted by the request at first but saw it as an opportunity he could not waste to publicly ridicule Benedict. The details of the event were perhaps not to his taste, dressed down literally and figuratively as guests gathered in the field and you and Benedict traipsed in barefoot, the only ornamentation being the natural sea of dandelions and floral arrangements of lilac and lavender. He did his best to whittle you both to the quick, questioning why you had chosen such a starry-eyed sod for a husband, theorizing that you weren’t as clever as he had thought, and so forth until everyone was sore with laughter. But then as he stood between you both, his closest brother and one of his dearest friends, he understood what a great honor it was to join you together. He felt as if he were stitching you into the tapestry of his family. He allowed himself to be sincere in his wishes for your future and didn’t realize he was crying until you handed him your tissue which caused more good-natured laughter. It was a moment and a day he would never forget, gaining you as a sister and knowing for certain that his brother’s sensitive heart would be cared for without fail.

You had been married in May on a day so warm and colorful it seemed impossible that it had occurred in the same white wasteland where he now found himself. If he couldn’t travel to the past maybe he just needed to carry on until next May. Then he could visit you on your anniversary. He pledged that he would make an occasion of it and would bring brighter bouquets of flowers. But for now all he had was the lavender and he knew he needed to start making his way back to the house. The cold was sinking in and it was a long trek. 

He murmured a few sentences, news he thought you should know and sentiments to Benedict that he wished he had said before. He hovered over the marker, a single stone laid deep in the grass, inconspicuous but enduring. No names, no dates, just a stanza Benedict had written after you passed. Anthony kicked the snow away then bent to brush the words clear with a hand. He placed the lavender alongside and paused to read them as he had so many times before.

Of all the flowers in the field You alone were sweetest Of all the joys my life would know Your love would be the deepest

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @colettebronte

[dameronscopilot]

So, uhm, for Santi's Shitty Ass Knees club and uh, maybe also thigh riding kink and... uh... knees are harder and knobbier to grind on (even if Santi has these thick luscious thighs to grind on too...) so maybe his person gives him a new appreciation for the damned joints that give him so much trouble because they also give his person so much pleasure. That's all. Happy Sunday. 👋🏼😇😳

Thigh Knee Riding with Santiago

Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!reader

NSFW 18+ content below.

Santiago’s flat on his back in bed, lips hanging open slightly and his pupils blown wide with lust as you ruck up the skirt of your dress and straddle one of his legs. While he’ll inevitably split you open on his fat cock later, you’ve spent most of the day fucking distracted by the indecent way the jeans he’d decided to wear were hugging his thick, muscled thighs. So you have other matters to attend to first.

You went so far as to drag him home from dinner at Frankie’s earlier than you’d usually leave, because by the time you hopped into the passenger side of his truck, the inside of your thighs was already far too sticky with the arousal that had seeped its way through your sopping wet underwear as you clenched your legs together throughout the visit. 

While perhaps you could’ve both stripped down before you began shamelessly riding his thigh, Santiago wants you like this—the straps of your dress haphazardly drooped over your shoulders, tits spilling out; the breathy little moans that leave your mouth as you drag your slick folds over his denim-clad thigh, your lacy underwear digging so tightly into your cunt as he tugs the waistband up to rest as high on your hips as it’ll go. He wants his mouth to go dry as he feels your arousal soaking through his jeans and onto his leg, wants to see the messy evidence of your release smeared all over afterward. 

But this time, something different happens—

Though he’ll deny it up and down till he’s blue in the face, not quite ready to accept the fact that his body is suffering the consequences of the hell he put it through for decades, Santiago Garcia has shitty ass knees.

He’ll still stubbornly hoist you up and try to make love to you against a wall when given the chance, knees be fucking damned as he grits his teeth and pants his way through it, but he’ll eventually be muttering expletives under his breath when the strain becomes too much and you’re forced to switch positions.

You know it bothers him.

Which is why, when you can feel the muscle of his leg strain underneath of you for a moment, you can easily surmise he’s starting to feel stiff from the position you’re in (though he won't say it)—running around in the backyard with Frankie’s daughters all afternoon certainly isn’t helping his case any. 

You go to move with the intention of hovering above him to give him a moment to bend and stretch his leg out, but when your movements fall slightly out of sync in the process, his knee ends up pressed against the apex of your thighs.

Your breath hitches at the feeling of it, the pressure of the solid bone of his kneecap up against your throbbing clit. While there’s plenty to be said about clenching down on Santi’s firm thighs, desperately chasing the friction that will eventually lead you to a keening, whimpering, climax…this is new. And unexpected.

Santi knows you, he knows you so fucking well. You think you’re being subtle as you experimentally rock your hips into his knee once more, but he clocks it immediately.

“Hermosa, what are you doing?” 

There’s a hint of amusement in his voice as he watches you bite down on your lower lip, and you gasp as he presses his knee even more firmly into your mound. It feels so good, a fresh gush of arousal begins to leak down the inside of your leg.

“Do you like this?” he asks, tone pitched low as he runs his tongue over his lower lip.

You nod. 

“Then don’t stop.”

Santi hastily tucks a pillow under his leg and watches you, transfixed, as you begin to grind down on his knee. He reaches down, pressing the heel of his palm against his throbbing erection while you get yourself off, moaning with each roll of your hips. 

And while seeing you slip your dress off and palm at your naked breasts while you tease your nipples has him groaning, it’s the ultimately the mere sight of his shitty, useless knees bringing you over the edge to a gushing orgasm that has him gasping for breath as he comes untouched in his pants, soaking his boxers with his sticky release.

—

» SANTIAGO GARCIA MASTERLIST » OSCAR ISAAC MASTERLIST

[wylstarion]

okay okay so this is the basic outline for the first bit of my Dammon rewrite/descent into avernus au

try to follow me here and god please am i open to suggestions

- Dammon is the second oldest and the oldest son of a tiefling master artificer mother and a human wizard father from Elturel. He has 4 siblings; An older sister who's a hellrider, a pair of boy and girl twins who are a bard duo, and an oops baby sister his parents had a decade later than the rest of them.

- When Elturel sinks, Dammon's mother is a person of interest to Zariel. She's known for her work with infernal metals on the material plane and his father is known as a master of automaton magic. They're both immediately conscripted into her service, Dammon's younger siblings are killed (???) by demons, and his older sister is captured. He is conscripted into the forges, deemed useful by Zariel's assets because he's been trained to work with infernal metals by his mother. His parent's are being forced to serve Zariel and design her war machines.

- Elturel is still in Avernus, the main events of Descent into Avernus happen shortly after the game. Elturel falls about 90 days before the nautiloid crashes.

- The tiefling refugees we meet throughout the game are exiled from cities neighboring Elturel in Eltergard.

- Dammon shows up with the last band of refugees to the grove about a week before Tav/Astarion/Shadowheart/Gale show up. He shows up the day Halsin leaves to explore the goblin camp with Anders, gets him set up at his forge, introduces him to the other tieflings, then dips.

- Zevlor, Tilses and Dammon are the only tieflings from Elturel proper. Zevlor and Tilses were lucky enough to be away from the city proper when it fell. Zevlor is very guilt ridden about this. Dammon (not wanting to explain himself) tells most of the other refugees that he was just out of the city when it fell.

- Karlach is the first person who Dammon tells that he escaped the hells. He isn't generous with details, but he tells her he's familiar with infernal machinery, tells her he spent time working the infernal forges. He really wants to help her. She still smells like Avernus and Dammon saw her fighting while he was there. She's familiar to him in a very bittersweet way. Honestly he feels lucky that he managed to escape without a tadpole, considering the fate of the other adventures surrounding him.

- The main game takes place over about 6 months.

- After the netherbrain attack, Dammon's forge is destroyed and he's living in Rivington with the other tiefling refugees. He feels purposeless, has major survivors guilt, he's really lonely, and he's lowkey pining after Karlach, guilt ridden by the fact that he couldn't fix her engine. He blames himself for her having to return to the hells. He misses her. He feels like she's the only person he's been honest with since he escaped Avernus. Boys got some real bad limerance.

- When he got to Baldur's Gate he found it reeeeaaaal peculiar that Thavius Kreeg managed to escape Elturel before it fell (He never liked that guy)

- Tav and Gale (in love, leaving for waterdeep next week) come to visit the tieflings before they depart. Tav makes a passing comment about Wyll and Karlach in Avernus. Gale makes a comment about Ulder being quite upset at his son for returning to the place he just escaped from. Dammon, who wasn't really paying attention before, shoots up and is like "???? huh??" and they say that yeah, Ravengard was actually in Elturel when it fell. He had just escaped and was on his way back to Baldur's Gate with news of the cities fate when he was captured by the Absolute. Real shit luck that guy has, clearly.

- Dammon, dumbstruck, thinking he was the only one who had escaped at that point, completely unaware that Ravengard had also been in Avernus, is like "oh okay um so there's maybe a few things I haven't been completely honest about" and has to tell them everything about his escape.

- The day the nautiloid crashed through hell, Zariel immediately set all her forces on high alert. All non essential guards were called to hold the line. In the chaos, Dammon's father appeared before him. He had summoned a portal, telling Dammon that this was his only chance. They didn't have long, and Dammon needed to leave now. Dammon had way too many questions. He was in shock, never expecting to see his parents again. His father told him he loved him, kissed him on the forehead, and shoved Dammon through the portal to the material plane. Dammon found himself suddenly in the foothills of the risen road, just outside of the crater where Elturel used to be. It all happened in maybe 30 seconds. One moment he was a slave in hell, the next he was standing beside a massive crater where his hometown used to be.

- Tav and Gale arrange a meeting for him with Ulder because what are the odds they both escaped Avernus on the same day???

- Ulder is shocked to hear about Dammon's escape. He tells him that a tiefling woman with cherry red skin and graying horns appeared before him. She told him that Zariel intended to sink the city of Elturel into the riven Styx. She said that if Ulder did not return to Baldur's Gate, his city would suffer the same fate. She said that Thavius Kreeg was responsible for the cities demise, that someone needed to stop him.

- So that's how Dammon learns that it was definitely also his parents that rescued the duke. They used the nautiloid crashing through Avernus as a diversion, and for some godforsaken reason rescued him and the goddamn grand duke of Baldur's Gate from Zariel's imprisonment at the same time. Dammon does not know why his life would be valued the same as the grand duke?? even by his parents, who he always revered as pragmatists.

- Dammon (developing a hero complex) determines that his rescue must mean something. His parents must have intended for him to find some way to rescue them, to rescue the city, because why else would they save him? He wants (desperately) to understand why they put their lives at such risk to get him out. He understands why they saved Ravengard, but he cannot understand why they would want him to escape if not to save themselves. (He's been through a lot okay)

- So Dammon, foolishly, guilt stricken for leaving his parents to die in Avernus, mourning his siblings, guilt stricken over not being able to save Karlach, desperately lonely and depressed from the last 6 months of strife, every good thing in his life constantly going sour, confused as to why his life was valued the same as the grand duke, decides that is must be for some greater cause. He has to do something because he can't be the only one who escaped, the only one who survived, for no reason. He decides that what his parents must want him to do is save them, save the city, avenge them, do something to stop Zariel's reign of terror.

- Anyways that's how my sweet sweet artificer ends up willingly venturing back into the hells, fantasizing about finally helping Karlach, rescuing his parents, avenging his siblings, making his life worth something. (He's a fool for it, but he has to learn that it isn't his place to save everyone.)

[glittiris]

"No Day Shall Erase You from the Memory of Time" - Virgil

This weekend I decided to partake in some mother-daughter bonding by visiting the 9/11 Memorial Museum. I’ve always been interested in this tragedy because it feels very personal to me even though I wasn’t there to witness it. The majority of my family and people who were adopted into my family through religion (God parents/God family) lived in New York at the time and were there to experience it up close to the point that some are a part of the group that developed respiratory problems. My aunt was pregnant during the attacks and gave birth prematurely because of all the running and stress she had to endure. My mother was on the train when the subway service was suspended and when she left the station, she saw the smoke and moments later the North tower collapsed. People were running in her direction, and she followed, and never looked back to see the smoke swallowing the city. She had to walk for 10 hours to meet up with my father, then his sister and then head home. She was wearing her favorite boots on 9/11 and after experiencing the hell that was that day, she threw them away because she didn’t want to wear them ever again. I feel claustrophobic being surrounded by all the skyscrapers in the city. I don’t like that most of them are glass, I don’t like that they’re oddly shaped and there’s no escaping them because they’re everywhere. It makes me nervous and learning about 9/11 when I was younger just gave me more reason to be afraid, and I think that’s interesting. The world was in that moment then and the world is still feeling that moment in a variety of ways today. My mother agreed to take me 23 years into her past and said, “maybe it’s time.” 

The museum got more intense as we went further down into the foundation of what was once World Trade over two decades ago. It was a very heavy experience both physically and emotionally, but thankfully they don’t hit you all at once with the really disturbing stuff. It’s a gradual transition from the facts to the stuff you might’ve not even wanted to know or see, but you’re seeing it and it’s tough. At the very bottom of the museum is a giant wall called a “slurry wall” that once served the purpose of keeping the Hudson River out of the basement levels of the twin towers. It smelt bad and made my throat very dry being next to it. My mother says that it smelt like that and smoke for years. It’s shocking that the smell is still down there, but it makes sense because we were literally in Ground Zero. 

There were many rooms where you could watch programs projected on the walls. The only one that was somewhat enjoyable was a program explaining what was so grand about the World Trade Center. People were very giddy to say they worked in or even near World Trade. My mom was one of those people who were always so proud to say she worked near World Trade and her law firm worked with offices that were located inside the towers. The program was exciting and made me feel like I was learning about a building I could go visit right now. It was a good break from the rest of the museum. I learned that skyscrapers sway! I hate that. I hate everything about that. That’s scary to me and I never want to be in a building that sways. I don’t care that swaying equals a stronger building. I’m icked out by that. I never knew that the elevator was fast, and I thought it would take forever to get to the top. People were very excited about the elevators too and a man in the program described his feelings towards it as a “rush.” People took so much pride in these towers 

Another thing I thought was neat, were these audio things that kind of felt like house phones. They either had voice mails from people on the planes or in the towers, or you could listen to people involved in the cleanup/rescue. You hold a long speaker up to your ear and you listen to the voice mail as if you’re the person it’s for. I can’t imagine being the loved one who received those messages. Most of these personal moments you’re let in on are in areas where photos are strictly prohibited out of respect for the grieving, so I have nothing to show. 

The entire museum is built around the rubble, so framing the different exhibits is what is left of the structural support for the towers. These are called box columns and I think this is the only one in the museum. The rest are just outlines of where the box columns once were. In the box column rubble, I spotted a footprint.

There were beautiful photos on the walls of a long walkway taken from in the rubble of the collapsed towers. I say beautiful because the composition and colors really wowed me. The quality makes it seem like these photos were taken today. I really wonder how they managed to do that or if I’m just downplaying what the cameras of the 2000s were capable of. I can’t explain why I find these pictures beautiful. My mother agrees though, so I'm not just a freak with a fetish for tragedy. There’s just something about them. 

The whole time we were there, my mom was trying not to cry, but that all changed when we got to the section of the museum with the truly disturbing parts of the tragedy. Videos of people trying to escape the tsunami of debris, people covered in blood, ash and burns, people jumping from the towers because it was either burn to death or have 10 seconds of fresh air before your demise and so much more. The first disturbing room we visited showed photos taken of people jumping out of the windows and my mother just broke down. She had never seen any photos of people falling before. She knew the photos existed, but never wanted to see them. She had her hand over her mouth and then she covered her whole face, and I felt bad that she had to see those pictures. Luckily there were tissues right outside the room and she was able to clean herself up. Honestly, seeing people jumping to their deaths was the worst thing to see in the museum and nothing else there compares to how heart wrenching that is. These people had no way to escape because the stairs they would’ve taken in the event of an emergency were blown out by the plane. The flames were unbearable, the smoke was toxic, and many firefighters knew that this would be their last shift going into those buildings. It’s scary to think about because this could be anyone and it could even be you someday. These people obviously didn’t go to work thinking it would be their last day on earth and everyone was so confused. Some jumped holding hands and embracing co-workers, some jumped facing the blue sky and some spiraled and flailed out of control as they dropped. It’s so shocking and a lot to take in. That was enough for us, and we decided to conclude our visit to the museum.

We visited the memorial pools. I heard that the waterfall drowns out the sound of the city and it actually does! It was calming and what we needed after all that. 

We went to shake shack afterwards and I had the best burger of my life. The bourbon bacon jam. It was sweet, tangy and I want another one right now. I recommend it. Go have it right now. 

[eddie-gluskin-and-i]

Cora deeply exhaled once she was alone again.

She removed her shoes first before heading up to the bathroom in stockinged feet.

Tonight she eschewed the shower and took to the claw footed bathtub that had been in the house for more than four decades.

It had looked big enough to bathe an elephant when she was a child. Now it looked big enough to baptize a baby elephant, even as an adult.

She was still deathly silent as she filled the tub, before adding *two* bath bombs - a rare indulgence.

She disrobed and slipped inside slowly. Then she submerged her head- and screamed all her emotions into the water and foam.

Everything had happened so fast, so soon, beyond any control she assumed she possessed.

Hadn't she learnt a thing from her last whirlwind infatuation?

This new feeling could go anywhere…it could be a wonderful thing for the ages, or go down in flames.

Did she just leap from the frying pan into the inferno? Or did she fall from Heaven and into Hell's warm arms?

She remained underwater until Air required her to come up.

She silently watched the water spiral down the drain, wishing her confusion would disappear just as easily.

As she slipped on a black slip and collapsed into bed, she whispered a prayer for wisdom, grace …and Eddie. ^^^^ Two weeks later found her driving to town on her day off. She didn't make an appointment, as she wanted her visit to be a surprise. After all, she just wished to pay a visit to Satine- and thank Eddie for dinner- and how he ended the evening. She touched her lips in remembrance, as if the heat from his lips still burned like a loving brand, and blushed as she realized she had accidentally smeared her lipstick, a scarlet brand across her fingertips. She laughed and reapplied her lipstick, before stepping out of her parked car and heading towards the establishment in question. A bell sweetly announced her entrance, but she noticed Eddie was speaking to two women, clearly a mother and daughter duo, and so decided to look around the interior. Satine had an elegant, vintage feel, and from what she could see, Eddie seemed to specialize in mature and sophisticated gowns and suits. Most usually ended up looking retro at best, dated at worst, but the man clearly had skill and talent aplenty. *I should have a dress or two tailored by him- as way of thanks...*

Cora snuck a glance at the two women at the cash register. Eddie said something she couldn’t quite make out, but whatever it was made the two burst out in a fit of giggles. There was that effortless charm at work.

As she waited for them to finish, she busied herself with the dresses on display in front of her. Wedding dresses. They looked like something fit for a queen, with intricate lace and beaded bodices and perfectly cut swaths of silk that fell in clean silhouettes on the mannequins.

The bell trilled again, and the women soon left with one last glance back at the charismatic tailor behind the counter.

“Cora,” a surprised voice called out - a voice as smooth as the finest silk.

She turned around, and was met with the most disarming of smiles. This man would be the death of her.

“Hey,” she said with a wave, then gestured to the window display. “They’re beautiful, the dresses.”

Eddie looked on proudly at his work. “Thank you. Though their beauty is hardly noticeable with you standing next to them.”

Cora scoffed. “Does that actually work with the ladies?” She turned around to stroll down the other side of the store. And to hide the slight flush in her cheeks.

“I’m afraid you see right through me, Cora. Can’t say I’m surprised.” He leaned forward to rest on his elbows, eyes following her every move as she explored the story each tailor-made dress told.

“So what brought you to this part of town? Certainly not just me?”

She could hear the cheeky smirk in his voice.

“Just in town,” she lied. “But I did want to stop by to thank you.”

“Oh? What for?”

Cora emerged from the rows of dresses and came up to the counter. Walking towards him had been like walking against some invisible force warning her not to do it. Now, finally face to face again, all caution had been thrown to the wind and she felt an irresistible pull to him. Why did he have to look at her like that?

“The other night was… I had a great time with you, and it meant a lot to me. All of it. You really are a gentleman, you know that?”

Eddie studied her curiously but didn’t push any further. He only smiled. “It was my pleasure. I enjoyed it too. In fact, I enjoyed it so much I just might have to ask you out on a second date.” He raised a brow in question.

[triscribe]

Well then!

So, last July, I came down to visit my dad’s new house in Florida for the first time.

(It’s not a retiree thing, it’s a ‘my father has been a Disney fanatic his entire life and corrupted my stepmother into loving it too, so much to the point they picked out a home less than an hour’s drive from the Magic Kingdom’ thing. But that’s not really relevant at the moment.)

We spent a long weekend pretty much just hanging out, like we used to when Dad lived fifteen minutes away from me, with a couple trips to the local movie theater and LOTS of enthusing over new comic books. But! I ended the trip on a bit of an unhappy note, realizing only when I got home to Texas that I’d accidentally left my colored pencils in Florida.

The 24-piece set wasn’t especially important in and of itself, but I’d spent decent money on a nice zippered case that matched the one my watercolor pencils are in, and I wanted it back.

Dad had no luck finding it. On my next trip, a couple months later in September, I also had no luck. *rassafrassamumblegrumble*

However, being emotionally damaged to the point I don’t cry unless something really terrible happens CAN have an upside, and in this instance it meant I sighed and moved on, trying other sets of pencils and not bothering to buy any new cases until I could find something I really liked to use.

But now! I am on my latest trip, sneaking in a few days before Thanksgiving before I gotta go back home and work Black Friday weekend (be nice to your delivery drivers, guys, this is their shittiest time of year). On both previous visits, my stepmother was out of town for different things, intentionally timed so that I could have Dad all to myself, she’s thoughtful like that. Last night, though, all three of us were hanging out in the den, doing various things on our different laptops and idly chatting, when I asked if Dad ever happened to come across my colored pencils.

Stepmother picks her head up.

No, Dad says after a moment, Sorry, still nothing. Stepmother blinks at him.

For her benefit, I start to explain about misplacing my pencils two visits prior. I get no further than a single sentence before she’s setting her laptop aside, standing up, and announcing Well That’s Easily Fixed!

My occasionally (read: frequently) insane step-parent disappears briefly into her office. She returns with not one, not two, but three, MASSIVE sets of colored pencils, one in a thick zippered case and two in tin containers with layered trays. VERY high quality, one hundred and eighty pieces EACH.

This is a woman who grew up on a limited household budget, and lived the first couple decades of her adult life in a similar, frugal-by-necessity manner. But! Ever since marrying my dad, getting to live on his income while going back to school, and steadily climbing her way up in the medical profession to a point where she now makes As Much and Half Again of what my computer engineer father does- she likes to buy Shiny Things. As in, she will happily throw herself into a new hobby for the excuse of purchasing all kinds of cool materials for it (skeins of yarn, paint supplies, baking equipment, etc), dabble for a few months, and then move onto something new. ADHD Mood, anyone?

Anywho.

The coloring book phase is apparently long since over, and she happily gifted me with two of these massive colored pencil sets. Dad reminded her I only came with a small suitcase and mini duffel bag. She airily waved a hand and said if I needed more carrying capacity, they’d get me another suitcase before I go home.

I may have had my reservations in the early days, but I can easily state now that I wholeheartedly love this woman.

(And that I anticipate the distant day when the grief of losing her and Dad will hopefully be offset by inheriting an insane amount of old art supplies and comic books, ‘cause like hell are my stepbrothers getting any of it.)

[marciabrady]

The relationship Joan Crawford and her mother, Anna, shared was, by all accounts, a strained one. As a child, Joan was always made aware of the fact that Anna disliked her and preferred her older brother, Hal. Hal seemed to be mentally disturbed and would often times take it out on Joan in ways that would affect her until her death. One of Joan’s biggest fears- which was of the dark- was formed during early childhood, when Hal locked her in a dark closet and no one let her out until the end of the day. Joan later said of Hal: 

“He was chronically mean...as kids he wasn't just the type of kid that would pull wings off butterflies, he'd pull the arms and legs off my dolls. When my mother needed help in the house, did she ever ask him to do anything? Hell, no! I waited on him hand and foot, and he was one of the big reasons why I wanted to get the hell out of the whole situation. Hal was bad news, all the way around. But because he was a boy he was always favored, and it was Lucille who had to do all the dirty work...as soon as I had a few options renewed at Metro, Hal appeared. One afternoon I came home and found him sitting on my sofa, smoking a cigarette, half-bombed, telling me that since I'd become a movie star he was going to live with me. Like an idiot, I let him stay. Hal was a louse, an out-and-out bastard. He could charm the skin off a snake, but nothing, not his jobs, not the men and women in his life, lasted long. Liquor, then drugs, and always his distorted ego, took over. I supported that son-of-a-bitch until the day he died. That man--or did he ever become a man--was a monster. God, I hated him.”

While Joan’s mother was aware of Hal’s behavior, she did little to stop him and, many times, encouraged him. It wasn’t until Joan was around the age of 11 that Anna interjected- and that was to kick Joan out of the house. Joan had been physically violated by her stepfather, but instead of breaking up with him, Anna blamed it on her underaged daughter ‘leading him on’ and sent Joan off to a boarding school where she had to work as a maid for her stay. Despite their past, when Joan began working in Hollywood, Anna moved in with her and Joan continued to support both her and her brother, Hal, for the rest of their lives. 

“I don't think she really loved me, but when you consider the life she led, what the hell. She married too young and too often. She was a little Swedish girl who wasn't too bright. All the way along, the wrong men appealed to her, and she worked her ass off, more often supporting them than they supported her. She was old and tired by the time she was 49, and when she came out here [Hollywood] at least a few of the fires had been put out, and she could be Hal's servant and my friend. She was a good woman, even though she ignored me when I was a kid, and she found life a lot easier during her last years... We weren't really close--we never had been."

This was confirmed by Christina Crawford in articles and interviews throughout the ‘60′s, as well as admitting that Joan had supported Christina and helped her find work as an actress for the better part of three decades. However, once Christina’s book “Mommie Dearest” came out, she distorted history and said Joan never supported her and would often times take work from her. She claimed Joan didn’t support her brother, Hal, or mother, Anna, either because she was ashamed of them. For more information on Christina’s false accusations, including how she perjured herself in court, visit this page.

[thaisibir]

Digimon Survive headcanons - Saki as an adult

An extension and elaboration of my first post on the Survive gang 15 years later

Age: 27 Profession: pediatric anesthesiologist

(I have training and experience in pediatric anesthesia myself, so these headcanons were particularly fun to work on)

-In medical school, Saki got a leg up from her peers from going to the hospital so much as a patient. She always gets high marks for standardized patient interactions. She knows firsthand how to talk to someone who's scared, confused, and in pain.

-Saki had to start out anesthesia residency with adults and absolutely hated it. Carrying cute little babies into the OR is way more fun, in her opinion, and she sure as hell can't do that with adults.

-All the surgeons, even the ones older by a few decades and those taller by a head or two, know not to mess with Saki. The biggest mistake a new unacquainted surgeon could make is think that he or she can bully Saki in the OR. She's not afraid to put her foot down and put patient safety first before whatever the surgeon's doing.

-On one trip when Aoi brought her family from England to visit her parents in Japan, her youngest child broke his arm badly from a fall and needed surgery. Aoi requested Saki to be the one putting him to sleep. Saki felt very honored and a bit flattered to be entrusted with his care, while Aoi would trust no one more than a close friend to do the job well.

-She has a soft spot for all kids, but an even softer spot for chronically ill kids who need frequent surgery. She would try to comfort them by sharing her own story of being sick as a kid.

-She doesn't have kids herself, but knows all the popular children's songs by heart because she has to hear them so damn much from TVs playing in the pre-op area.

-As a clinical instructor, Saki is known among medical students to be blunt, straightforward, and a bit scary. To students she warms up to, she uses more friendly sarcasm. She loves messing with the students and pushing them out of their comfort zone, testing to see how they perform under stress.

-With Minoru and Aoi, Saki forms a support group so they can share the struggles they face with jobs involving lives at stake, and help each other through those struggles. The three of them know what it's like to face a reality where everyone can't always be saved. Their little support group is a way of coping with that reality.

-In her spare time, Saki makes fabric designs and turns them into scrub caps, which sell like hotcakes.

-Glued to her phone as much as when she was a teen, Saki would be on it during lulls in surgery, checking to see what her friends have been up to.

-Her guilty pleasure is being always informed of the latest hospital gossip and having chances to spill the tea.

-Out of the Survive gang, she sees Ryo the most often. He works at her hospital as an on-site sign language interpreter, and would help Saki interact with deaf patients. Their level of familiarity and bantering leads some of the staff to assume (wrongly) that the two are flirting and dating.

-Floramon is quite proud to be the first Kemonogami employed at a hospital. Though she can't accompany Saki in the OR, her job is to entertain and comfort pediatric patients before surgery. In the pre-op area together, they make a good team as Floramon distracts the kid while Saki asks for medical history from the guardian.

-Saki likes to flavor the mask with Floramon's scent. She had discovered that patients are soothed by the nice smell and fall asleep the quickest from its sedative properties. She got the "Floramon flavor" patented, and soon even ORs outside Japan were using it.

-When they're not working, Saki and Floramon enjoy taking scenic strolls through public gardens, hanging out at coffee shops, or binging K-dramas at home.

[angeltreasure]

How do I pray the rosary? 💜

How to Pray the Rosary:

1. While holding the crucifix in your hand, make the Sign of the Cross, followed by reciting The Apostles’ Creed.

2. On the first bead next to the crucifix, recite the Our Father (that’s the prayer Jesus taught us to pray.)

3. On the three small beads, recite the Hail Mary for an increase of faith, hope, and charity.

4. Next on the big bead, recite the Glory Be.

5. Stay on the big bead. You must now decide which set of Mysteries you will pray on. There are four different Mysteries for the Rosary which I will color differently:

Joyful Mysteries (usually said on Monday and Saturday):

The Annunciation

The Visitation

The Nativity

The Presentation

The Finding of Jesus in the Temple

Luminous Mysteries (this is usually prayed on Thursday):

Jesus’ Baptism in the Jordan

The Wedding of Cana

The Proclamation of the Kingdom

The Transfiguration of Jesus

The Institution of the Eucharist

Sorrowful Mysteries (this is usually prayed on Tuesday and Wednesday):

The Agony of the Garden

The Scourging at the Pillar

The Crowning of Thorns

The Carrying of the Cross

The Crucifixion

Glorious Mysteries (this is usually prayed on Sunday and Wednesday):

The Resurrection

The Ascension of Jesus

The Decent of the Holy Spirit

The Assumption of Mary

The Crowning of Mary

6. After you pick which Mystery you want, using the big bead you are paused on recite the first mystery. Reflect on it briefly.

7. Staying on the big bead, recite the Our Father.

8. Move upwards to choose a side you want to start on. Each set is called a decade. Keeping in the mind the first mystery. On each small bead of a decade, pray recite the Hail Mary meanwhile, meditate on the first mystery. (For example, if I wanted to pray the Glorious Mysteries rosary, I could meditate on The Resurrection for the first decade, while reciting the Hail Mary for each bead.)

9. When you are finished the tenth Hail Mary, notice there is a bead that separates the start of the second mystery. Recite the Glory Be (I like to make the sign of the cross with the crucifix when I do this) and then recite the Fatima Prayer.

10. Now you start the second mystery. Recall the second mystery, meditate on it briefly, recite the Our Father. Move onto the new set of decades and repeat the steps above until you are finished making your way around.

11. Go to the big bead. Recite Hail Holy Queen and concluding prayer. I’ve seen people do different ones but I like the Rosary Prayer {Verse) Let us pray, (Response) O God, whose only begotten Son, by His life, death, and resurrection, has purchased for us the rewards of eternal salvation. Grant, we beseech Thee, that while meditating on these mysteries of the most holy Rosary of the Blessed Virgin Mary, that we may both imitate what they contain and obtain what they promise, through Christ our Lord. Amen.}.

12. To finish, use the crucifix to make the sign of the cross.

13. I personally like to kiss the crucifix afterwards as to say thank You to Jesus, but that’s not really required lol.

How to Pray the Rosary with Bishop Barron

Why Pray the Rosary?

The Power of Praying the Rosary

Those are just some of many videos that describe it. I love to follow along with Mother Angelica and her nuns. The videos made on EWTN show pictures as they pray on each mystery and really helps my visual mind stay focused. Here’s a link to one of the four:

The Glorious Mysteries led by Mother Angelica

When you say your Rosary, don’t rush through it like you’re reading a newspaper. There is no race. It’s no contest. This is your time to develop your spirituality and holiness. Some people have trouble finishing the rosary due to its repetition, especially when tired. One of them is me if I say it before bed. It is better to meditate one or two decades than to pray nicely on one and rush the rest. Try to make each mystery like a movie in your head. Also, don’t wear the Rosary around your neck like souvenir. It must be treated with respect, as the devil sees it as a sword.

Here’s some quotes about the Rosary:

“The rosary is a means given by the Virgin for contemplating Jesus and, meditating on his life, for loving and following him always more faithfully.” - Pope Benedict XVI

“The Rosary is my favorite prayer.” - St. Pope John Paul II

“You shall obtain all you ask of me by the recitation of the Rosary." - Mary to Blessed Alan de la Roche

“The Rosary is the best therapy for these distraught, unhappy, fearful, and frustrated souls, precisely because it involves the simultaneous use of three powers: the physical, the vocal, and the spiritual…” - Venerable Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen

““Even if you are on the brink of damnation, even if you have one foot in hell, even if you have sold your soul to the devil as sorcerers do who practice black magic, and even if you are a heretic as obstinate as a devil, sooner or later you will be converted and will amend your life and will save your soul, if—and mark well what I say—if you say the Holy Rosary devoutly every day until death for the purpose of knowing the truth and obtaining contrition and pardon for your sins.” - St. Louis de Montfort

“When you say your Rosary, the angels rejoice, the Blessed Trinity delights in it, my Son finds joy in it too, and I myself am happier than you can possibly guess. After the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, there is nothing in the Church that I love as much as the Rosary.” - Our Lady to Blessed Alan de la Roche

There are a lot of amazing stories of the Rosary. I think my absolute favorite story of the Rosary is how it effected a man called Blessed Bartolo Longo!

Edit: I also highly recommend do not pray the Rosary while you are driving. I don’t want to hear about you dying. Keep your eyes alert at all times. (Don’t use your phone in your hands either. Texting can wait. If you have the ability to use it hands free for a phone call, then of course that is ok if you really need it.) Anyway, follow your laws and stay safe! God bless!

[susiesamurai]

mina harker ↳ phantoms

Mina Harker wasn’t the normal sort of vampire.

Turned by Dracula in 1872, the demon didn’t quite…stick. Filled with the sort of righteous fury only women seem to possess, she had spurned the affections and guidance of her Sire instead insisting on finding her own way in this new world. Besides, he had killed both her most dearest friend and her husband and that lovely old man Van Helsing. What did he expect? That she would swoon into his arms and wile away forever committing monstrosities by his side?

Not bloody likely.

Obsessed with finding a cure, Mina became an expert on the occult. Travelling the world to visit with experts and hacks alike it soon became clear that the only cure was a stake to the heart or one last sunrise. And so she adapted. Coming into possession of a mystical artefact that at the very least allowed her to walk in the daylight Mina settled down in London nearing a decade after her death. Long enough to no longer be recognised and wealthy enough to circulate in much higher circles than she had before it was a comfortable if mundane life.

And then she met William.

Instantly drawn by soulful blue eyes so like her own and a passion for poetry that almost tricked her into thinking her heart was once more beating when he recited verse. Naturally, though, it was not to be. Not even because she was dead, but because he had eyes for Cecily Addams and Cecily Addams only. Although, if Mina had realised that his feelings for Cecily would get him killed she possibly would have made her own intentions known.

The Scourge had arrived in London, Aurelian vampires who knew nothing but destruction and monstrosities. And they had taken her William away from her, turned him into a hedonistic killer just like themselves. Their leader, an Irishman by the name of Angelus had approached her, propositioning an alliance. Suggesting that they were the ‘sort’ of vampires she should associate with.

Responding that she would sooner associate with a sunrise, Mina quickly decided her stay in London was over.

It was many years later that Mina once again met with Angelus, only it wasn’t the same braggart that had leered at her while pontificating his many virtues. Instead he was a hollow shell of a man plagued with guilt and cursed with a soul. Seeking out her help, torn between wanting his soul once again removed or spending the rest of his life seeking absolution for his sins.

Refusing to do the first, Mina instead vowed to offer companionship and guidance in adjusting to a less monstrous way of life.

The years turned to decades and when a century began to approach Angel disappeared. Used to these guilt-fuelled benders he was prone to, Mina didn’t worry too much. Knowing she would eventually find him unwashed and surviving on rats and stray animals, ready to start the process of self-forgiveness all over again.

Except this time, she didn’t.

When she heard word of a new Slayer in Sunnydale who was being aided by a vampire of all things, Mina was certainly curious. When she discovered that the vampire was none other than Angel she had no choice but to see for herself.

Little did she know she wasn’t the only vampire making her way to Sunnydale, and that it was going to be a hell of a reunion once Spike and Drusilla arrived in town.