#it reminds him of apols

[aquillaac3]

Found this one video from tiktok where they ask someone of they have autism after being complimented by their pretty eyes. (I swear I don't use tik tok, I was with my little cousin and he showed me the video from his phone, don't judge me pls!!!😭)

Okay okay soooo, here's a selfinsert where Falco is a sheep!

She's a farmer but her crops tend to shrivel and die mainly because Howdy sells her sand instead of fertilizer (of course she found out and got mad).

Her attire was most like inspired by an old anime called Candy Candy along with Raggedy Ann.

Why sheep? Cuz I really like that one theory where Welcome Home was all a cult, so sheep are often used as a symbol for obedience, naivety, purity and sacrifice.

Please be nice to her...

[juletheghoul]

unclean

a/n: Honestly, you can blame my period for this one. I took a huge liberty because usually women on their periods in this time weren't treated the way they should have been, also took an educated guess at forms of relief. This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for losing her mind with me, thanks my love! 🩷Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus not being a little bitch about periods, creampie, blood & mess lets be real, boob worship, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.4k

reblogs are appreciated

Prev chapter Masterlist series masterlist

-

The wince came without your permission, your face twisting in discomfort as you poured his wine, pausing for a moment to steady yourself; thankfully without spilling a drop.

“Are you hurt, girl?” You unclench your eyes and find him staring at you with a frown, no doubt confused by your expression. 

“Apologies Dominus, it is nothing.” You bow your head but hiss nonetheless and he puts down the bread. 

“Answer me truthfully girl, what pains you?” His eyes are intent and for a moment you cannot tell if it is annoyance or worry that twists his features. Heat rushes to your face, men usually don’t take the news well when they are reminded of the troubles of the opposite sex. You fidget, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth while you gather your wits. 

“It is just, my blood will flow soon Dominus. Sometimes the pain precedes it.” You bow your head and stare at the floor by his feet, gearing up for the usual responses you’d get from the men you’ve served, anger, or disgust. He says nothing, but when you look up he nods once. “I will retreat to my chambers soon. I will send someone else to tend to you if it pleases you, Dominus.” 

“I require nothing further, you may tend to your needs.” He dismisses you gracefully, much more so than any other you’ve served and it’s as though a heavy weight has been lifted from your shoulders. 

The blood does not dull the pain. 

Hours after confessing to your Dominus, you can do nothing more than curl up in your bed, and suffer in silence. One of the older women had boiled some water for you to dip a flat stone, place it on your belly for relief and it had worked wonders for a time but both the water and the stone had gone cold ages ago. All that was left to do was grit your teeth and bear it. 

You cannot help but crave him even more, with the blood flowing, your lower back and breasts aching, and your insides twisting, the pleasure of his cock seemed like the miracle that could cure you. Men didn’t do that though, women all knew it was nothing more than what the female body did, but men–society deemed it unclean. And so you had to endure, without the relief of his body or his gift. Still, you couldn’t help but be grateful for him, he did not protest to the women in his service sequestering themselves until it passed. He did not ask questions, he did not balk at the talk of pain. 

The first day passed, and the second found you in more agony. The second was the worst for you, when the blood was the heaviest, and the discomfort grew nearly unbearable. 

The women brought you hot soups and wine warmed with spices, boiled water for the stone and clean rags for the mess. You thanked them, with tears in your eyes and they nodded and left you to your misery. You slept when you could, but when the night came, sleep had become a stranger, and all you could do was pray to all of the Gods to either take the pain, or take your life. 

Your door opened late into the night and you thought one of the women had brought more hot water but it was him, your Dominus, standing at the threshold to your modest chamber bathed in soft candlelight and shadow.

“Dominus-” You struggled, moving to stand too quickly and falling back to sit on your bed. “Apologies Dominus, what-” He held up his hands to forestall your speech. 

“Peace, girl, I am not here to ask anything of you.” He came in and closed the door, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “I heard one of the women speaking about you, she said you were suffering a great deal.” 

“I am well, Dominus.” You could barely keep the grimace off your face.

“Do not lie to me, girl, I can see the agony.” He approached slowly, he’d already prepared for bed and wore a simple tunic. “I have heard it said that pleasure often eases the pain, but I will not force the issue if you do not desire it.” You stared up at him, confusion creeping into your pain-addled mind. He stood, staring at you, for all intents and purposes a gift from the Gods in himself. “Would you like me to help you?” 

“I– but you are not… the blood does not bother you, Dominus? I am unclean–” He raised his arms once more, a frown arranged on his features. 

“Blood has never bothered me, girl.” You droop with relief, tears springing to your eyes and an altogether different ache building between your legs. “You need it don’t you, you need me to take the pain away, hm?” He speaks softly again and all you can do is nod, pitifully. He stands before you, taking in the unruly state of you and for a moment you think you can almost see a soft affection on his face. His thumb swipes against the plump of your lower lip softly, “How do you desire it? Soft? With kisses and gentle touches?” he holds your chin between his pinched fingers, tilting your face up to gaze into his dark eyes, “Or do you desire it more forceful? How do you need me to fuck you?” 

Tears well, and you’re not sure if it’s the softness in his voice or the relief so clearly visible on the horizon, but you swallow around the lump of gratitude in your throat. “I want it all, Dominus,” you hold onto his forearm, afraid that if you don’t make contact with him, he might evaporate like dew in the morning. “I want kisses, and gentle touches but I want force as well, I need your gift to ease the pain.” 

“And you shall have it, my brave girl.” He reaches down, carefully pulling your tunic up and off and your nipples harden almost painfully. He slips his hand down, palming your breast softly, “Do they hurt too much for my attention?” soft as a breeze, his thumb strums at the sensitive tip of your breast and you bite your lip. 

“They ache, but I do not wish for you to stop.” You bring his other hand to your other breast, sighing at the tenderness in his touch. 

“I will be mindful.” He pulls away for a moment to undress and the sight of his cock standing at full mast is enough to make you whimper. “Patience, girl. You will have it soon enough, as deep as I can get.” You nod, but all at once you realize where you are. 

“You wish to have me here? My bed is not as lush as yours-” He sees slight embarrassment on your face and he waves it away. 

“This is my house, girl, I will have you where I please.”

You move back with a wince and he follows, discarding the soiled rag tucked between your legs without so much as a flinch and whatever feelings of devotion, of loyalty or possibly obsession you have for him grow to greater and greater strength. He settles between your spread thighs and just the warm heft of him is soothing, the heat of his skin on your belly, the heavy press of his cock on your sex like a balm. 

Wordlessly he presses his lips to yours, soft, and then not so soft and his tongue explores your mouth, he tastes of wine and dark ripe fruit and you cannot help but wrap your arms around his neck, thread your fingers through his thick waves and whimper. His lips travel, mapping out their course across your skin, down the column of your neck, the base of your throat until he takes your breast in gentle hand and licks at the peak and the moan escapes your lips without your leave. He moves to the other and showers it with the same affection, both breasts shiny with his spit and your cunt melts for him like frost in the face of the sun. You can feel the way he coats himself in your want, his cock slipping between the lips of your sex. He continues to worship your breasts, licking soft like a kitten, and then sucking the tip into his mouth until you cannot take it anymore. 

“Please Dominus,” Your voice breaks when he lets go of your nipple with a pop, enjoying the way you writhe underneath him. “I need it, I need your cock.” He kisses at your breast again before slipping his hand down, and finally slipping into the wet clutch of your cunt. “Gods above, yes, yes yes, please Dominus-” You’re breathless, the feel of him is good enough to make your eyes roll back into your skull. 

“Yes, I know girl, I’m right here.” He punctuates his words with a sharp thrust and the moan you let out is obscene. “This little cunt is going to behave for me, isn’t it?” His lips barely touch yours, speaking the words into your mouth; his words, his rhythm making you drip onto the fabric below. The sounds between your legs are vulgar, wet and far more appealing than any music in the world, but it is not enough. You let out a whine, pitiful and painful and he frowns. “Is it not enough?” There is no anger, only the quest for truth in his tone and you shake your head, heartbroken and shaking with need. He pulls away, and you let out a cry of anguish and clutch to him, if he left you like this you don’t think you’d survive. “Peace, girl. We will change our positioning so I can give it to you how you need it.” 

When he pulls away, your eyes widen in shock and horror. Your blood has smeared all over him, his cock, his groin, spreading up almost to his belly, it collects at the mouth of your cunt and when you look down it is all over your inner thighs, the scene looking more like a battle than a bedding. He shakes his head, raising a hand to stop the apology before it is given. 

“This does not frighten me, girl. This is not the first time I have been covered in the blood of another, and it will not be the last. Turn around, I would have you on your hands and knees.” You nod, and with a wince you rush to comply, presenting your backside to him and within a moment he has pulled your hips back to meet his, his cock entering you with no resistance and from this angle he knocks the wind out of you. “There it is, this is the answer, yes?” He thrusts again forcefully and a sound you’ve never heard comes out of your mouth, a dark, wanton noise and it only proves him right. 

“Yes Dominus, please, like this–” you don’t finish your sentence because he pulls back and punches forward again with enough force to rock your bed. Your head drops, your back arching and he sets a brutal pace. Tears slip out from the corners of your eyes, trapped between where your face presses against the back of your forearms and you think for a moment that nothing has ever felt better. 

He grunts, and for a handful of minutes the only sounds are your combined heavy breathing, the wet squelch between your legs, and the rhythmic rocking of your bed. His fingers dig into the meat of your hips hard enough to bruise but it matters not, the pleasure is too great, the relief of his cock is a sign that the Gods are real and that they have sent him to you. 

You reach underneath, gasping at the feel of your cunt spread wide to take him and at just how wet you are. The engorged little pearl of your pleasure begs for attention, and you cannot deny it. With a handful of swirls you seize up, screaming through your climax and he groans as the fist of your cunt squeezes him tight, making him slow slightly but he doesn’t stop. Your knees give out for a moment but he doesn’t let you falter. 

“I am not finished with you yet, this little cunt will take what I give her.” His grip tightens and he lifts you back up into position. Fucking you through your flutters, “You will give me another, girl, you will squeeze my cock again, only then will I give you my gift.” He’s breathless, maneuvering his hand around to reach between your legs while he drapes himself against your back. His fingers manipulate you rougher than you did, forcing another climax out of you while his hips drive his cock deep enough to kiss your womb. 

The second climax is more intense and lasts longer and the force of it milks him dry. You feel him empty himself with a punched-out groan, collapsing onto you once his cock twitches for the last time. 

Everything is silent, and for a moment, you think you might have gone onto the afterlife but then he shifts and you take a deep, steadying breath. The relaxation is so great you are afraid to move, afraid that any engagement of your muscles might result in the pain returning and so you stay still as he pulls out. You will clean once he is gone but he shocks you again when you feel a cool cloth on the skin of your backside. 

“Dominus, I can–” You turn your head to him slowly but he shakes his head. The tenderness in his hands not reaching his face. 

“Silence, girl.” He says nothing else, but dips the cloth into the basin of water again and rings it out, cleansing the mess between your legs silently. “I expect you to let me know the next time you are in pain.” Once he is satisfied with his task, he dips the cloth again, and uses it on himself and there is something about seeing him do this that is unnatural, you cannot help but stare. He is quick; utilitarian. 

He drops the used cloth back into the basin, grabs his tunic and slips out of your room without so much as a glance but it matters not, you are asleep before he shuts the door.

-

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[torakowalski]

Apols for the delay but Swimmer Steve is back and pretty much exactly where we last left him.

(part one | part six)

"Fuck," says Steve. "Fuck." He hasn't said much of anything else since he came out of the changing rooms, still damp and kind of stunned-looking.

"Fuck," Eddie agrees.

Steve looks at him, a smile starting to spread across his face, going on and on like it might be endless.

God, he's handsome.

God, Eddie is stupid in love with him.

"Olympics, baby!" Eddie crows. They've already hugged; Steve got a hug from everyone, as soon as he emerged. Eddie wants to hug him again, but that would probably be too much.

"Fuck," says Steve and sits down on the floor between their two beds.

Eddie shrugs to himself and sits down with him.

They've only come back to the hotel so Steve can get showered and changed before the celebration dinner that the kids have planned. Or, actually, Steve has come back to the hotel for that; thinking about it, Eddie's not sure why he came with, except that it just felt natural.

Either way, looks like they're going to take longer than expected.

"All good?" Eddie asks, just in case.

"Jesus Christ," says Steve, which is a change from fuck and laughs. He lifts his hands up to cover his face and when he lowers them again, his eyes are wet. "The Olympics, Eddie."

Eddie nods, can't do anything but smile stupidly back at him. He doesn't think he's ever seen Steve this open and relaxed and delighted. "The Olympics, Steve."

Steve rubs at his eyes with his fingertips, mostly just making his eyelashes damper and darker from his happy tears. "You know when you've wanted something your whole damn life, but you never really thought you'd get it? It feels fucking wild to get it."

Eddie thinks about his guitar, his band, how badly he wants to stand on a stage looking out at thousands of people who all want to hear what he has to sing. Then he reminds himself that this is Steve's moment.

"I bet," he says. "Congrats. You've worked damn hard and you absolutely deserve it."

Steve leans over and bumps their shoulders together. "You're coming with me, right?"

Eddie blinks. "Where?"

"... the Olympics," says Steve, like it should be obvious.

Eddie blinks some more. "Steve. Sweetheart. Steve. The Olympics are in Korea."

"Mm," Steve agrees, "but the war's over, it's totally safe there now."

Eddie loves and hates that Steve thinks that might be the only thing putting Eddie off.

Eddie stretches his legs out so they disappear under Steve's bed and hopes there's nothing really gross under there that'll stick to his jeans. "Look, the literal only reason I've been able to afford rocking up and down the country with you is government hush money and the fact you keep buying all my meals. There's no way I can stretch to plane tickets, and I'd need my own hotel room, right? 'cause you'll be living in the athletes village?"

He could have kept going, obviously he could have kept going, but he stops there because Steve is waving a hand at him.

"What? Don't say you'll pay. There's no way you have that much extra cash, either."

"Nah," Steve says, "but my dad does. And I will be fully, fully back on the credit card, after he finds out about this."

Eddie makes a face. "But we hate your dad?"

"We really do," Steve agrees, smile not even dimming. "But we love spending his money on shit he'll hate." He drops a hand to Eddie's knee, giving it a squeeze and a shake. "You'll come, right?"

"... You should take Robin," Eddie tries, one last attempt to be a good person. "Or the kids. God, the kids would shit."

Steve leaves his hand on Eddie's knee, like that's just a place where it goes now. "I'd take them all, if I could... Plus like, all their parents to keep an eye on them, but they'll all be back in school by the time the Olympics start. None of them can take like, three weeks out."

"I bet Erica could wrangle it," Eddie points out.

Steve makes a guilty face. "Love Erica, but I don't think we have the kind of relationship where we hop over to Asia, just the two of us. You know?"

Eddie wants to ask, And we do? But they do. He knows they do.

"I don't know," he says. It's a big fucking deal. He's never left the country before and he'd love to, but he really does hate Steve's dad and all he chooses to be. The idea of being beholden to him for that big a favour sits wrong in his gut, even if Mr Harrington never actually knows about it.

"Eddie," Steve says, like he's prepared to wheedle for what he wants. Then he stops, takes a breath, shakes his head. "I know it's a big ask and obviously you don't have to, if you really don't want to. I kind of just, I can't, I can't imagine doing this without you."

Eddie claps a hand to his chest. "Right in the flattery gland, Harrington."

Steve slides his hand up Eddie's leg and squeezes his thigh. Is this going to be a thing? Is Eddie going to have to get Robin to have a word with him about this soon?

"You're the whole reason I've got this far," Steve tells him, all close and sincere. "If you don't want to come, that'll suck, but it's okay. I just wanna make sure that you know I appreciate everything you've done."

Eddie knows every mole on Steve's face, but Steve's close enough now to reveal a few previously unknown freckles.

Eddie chuckles weakly. "Personal space?" he suggests.

"Overrated," Steve says and then.

And then.

And then he presses his lips carefully against Eddie's.

"What?" Eddie croaks. He can feel his breath dance off Steve's mouth.

"Thank you," Steve says and kisses him again, a little firmer, a little damper this time.

"I..." Eddie is a goddamn fucking hero because he makes himself lean back. "Don't. You can't. Don't kiss me to say thank you. That's not... Don't. Please."

He's expecting Steve to sit back, blush and apologise and explain he had to best of intentions. Instead, Steve lifts the hand not on Eddie's thigh and touches his cheek. "Can I kiss you 'cause I can't imagine not kissing you?"

The centre of Eddie's chest throbs. Even he doesn't know what that means. "You don't want to kiss me," he manages.

"Kinda really do," Steve says. "So? Can I?"

(continued here)

[bits-and-babs]

𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 — 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋

summary: With the Great Hall empty, you take an opportunity to gaze upon the Iron Throne without its ruler. You can't help but wonder what kind of monarch Oberyn would make. The King is dead, long live The King.

pairing: Oberyn Martell x f!reader

word count: 3k

content: 18+ MDNI. SPOILERS FOR GOT, (In order) Reference to death and vague mentions of gore, celebration of said death (Nasty character go bye bye), fingering, PIV sex. This is a @beskarbabs remaster — original post date 2021.

➛ oberyn masterlist | main masterlist | taglist

Summer sunshine bathes the throne room in a golden glow yet does nothing to dispel the cold, unnerving energy that reverberates inside the stone walls. Red refractions from the stained glass sun at the window at the head of the room leak across the floor. You can’t help but consider the stone flags are often streaked with that colour. That those who have paced the stone flags, their footsteps ringing out in the Great Hall, have given the order to paint the Seven Kingdoms that same crimson shade. 

Standing before the steps, you consider the Iron Throne seated upon them, its bleak colours contrasting the warm hues in which the sunlight drowns the room. The Throne surprisingly does not live up to your expectations. You had heard so many stories, forged of a thousand surrendered swords at the conquest of Aegon The Conqueror. Now it stands before you; you can hazard a guess that there are less than two hundred. 

Its symbolism is not lost on you. It had seated some of the evilest men, who had brought terror and despair across the Seven Kingdoms and its people. When you had arrived at King’s Landing and entered the Red Keep before the wedding, you had expected to see arguably the worst of them all, King Joffrey, stare back at you.

Now it was empty.

The crimson that daubs the floor in splotches reminds you of the events just hours before. Reminds you of the lifeblood that leaked from the young king’s nose and slipped down his pale, blotched cheeks, dripping into the golden collar of his robes at his neck. Reminds you of the bloodshot colour of the whites of his blue eyes and the way they seemed to almost threaten to bulge out of his sockets. A gruesome death for a gruesome king. 

You hoped that his mother’s screams, ex-queen regent Cercei Lannister, mirrored those of the countless he had killed in these halls so brutally. Hoped it would bring those dead some peace. That it please the Old Gods and the New so that the kingdom could find peace and crown a more considerate, less destructive sovereign. 

The Great Hall was quiet. With no king to keep the Iron Throne warm, there was no requirement for anyone to be here. With this knowledge, you slowly make your way up the steps, the sound of your soles scuffing the stone floor ringing out in the vacant room. This close, you could regard the details. The ridges of the sword handles catch your eye, and the hilts of the weapons all ensigned with symbols that represented their owners long gone. While it didn’t meet your expectations, it was undoubtedly a throne for a king. 

You cast your eyes over the armrests, reaching out to touch them. They seemed so uncomforta-

“It’s underwhelming, is it not?” 

You snatch your hand back from the Throne with a gasp, like it had scalded you, eyes wide as your head whips around to look at the source of the sound. 

Oberyn smirks, standing in the centre of the large floor before you. His warm energy radiates despite the distance between you, and the golden robes he wears provide some much-needed colour to your bleak, almost desolate surroundings. You had asked him to wear those patterns for the ceremony, confessing they reminded you of the sun-kissed beaches of home. Oberyn agreed, delighted to represent Dorne this way. 

“You startled me, my prince!” You exclaim, pressing your palm to your chest in an effort to steady yourself. Your Viper had always been stealthy. 

“Apologies, My Sun, but you were so lost in thought that I fear I would have startled you regardless,” he muses, slowly crossing the floor. He looks so at ease in these four walls, sauntering as though he owns them. In honesty, this is how Oberyn always acts, but he is expected to uphold respect in the Red Keep and appear humble. He certainly didn’t seem to care much for that expectation now. 

Despite this, he regards you with a whisper of concern. 

“Are you well? What you saw back there… It wasn’t pleasant,” he treads carefully, uncertain how you had handled the events of the wedding, given he had sent you away from the gruesome scene. But, much to your surprise, the only thing that you happened to find grim were Cercei’s pitiful cries of “take him!” You swore they still rang in your ears like the screams of squealing pigs. 

“Just fine, my prince,” you promise him, dropping your hand to your side. You were fine, honestly. While you weren’t often exposed to atrocities in Dorne, you had certainly seen your fair share of them. Choking to death paled in comparison. 

Finally, he steps upwards, making his way slowly up the levels to stand before you. You’re taller than him on the top step, so he cranes his neck to look into your eyes. There is a glimmer in the blackness of his pupils - vindication. 

“And so the boy dies,” he says, voice quiet as he reaches for your waist. He slowly brushes his palm up the curve of your waist. 

“He was a Baratheon, Oberyn,” you remind him, watching how his eyes trace the neckline of your dress. A knowing smirk flickers across Oberyn’s usually measured expression. He knows something you don’t. 

“So they say,” he appears to pick his words carefully, despite your isolation. The walls of the Red Keep have ears, and unsavoury words often come back to haunt the utterer. “I fear his pedigree has come into question.”

A frown pulls at your eyebrows, searching Oberyn’s guileful countenance for an answer to your unspoken query of ‘why?’

“You saw how that wretched boy acted. Are you to tell me he isn’t a Lannister?” He questions you, holding your gaze. His usually warm brown eyes have that very same intense look he aimed at Cercei and Tywin at the dinner. Abhorrence. How were you to deny what he saw, what you saw? Joffrey was a monster, the kind of cruelty he dealt only shared with one family- lion’s jaws would easily maul a stag. Regardless of whose blood had pumped his heart, he deserved every moment he suffered. 

“Well,” you sigh softly, agreeing with your lover, “I suppose if the shoe were to fit….” 

“It does,” he speaks, dismissing any question of the legitimacy of his opinion, “This is a triumph.” You nod firmly, the two of you acquiescing unanimously to this fact. It was of no consequence who Joffrey truly was. The most imperative truth was that his death had devastated the Lannister family, precisely what Oberyn had set out to do. While he couldn’t claim responsibility, it certainly didn’t diminish his appreciation in seeing the panic amongst the blonde-headed savages - the infighting. 

Oberyn’s hand creeps from your waist and down the small of your back, taking hold of your ass and gently squeezing it. His eyes are hooded as you look down at him, iris’ hidden as he gazes down the neckline of your dress. 

“This could be your chance to become king,” you muse, smiling playfully as his eyes snap up to your face, disgust evident if only briefly. 

“Live here in King’s Landing? As sovereign? I would rather be abstinent,” he muses with his own knowing smirk, “not even your bewitching looks could implore me to rule the Seven Kingdoms.” 

You huff, acting disappointed as you cross your arms across your chest in apparent dismay. Oberyn simply arches an eyebrow, the edges of his lips lifting up in intrigue at your little display of audaciousness.

“What is it, My Sun?” He asks you, clearly amused. You purse your lips slightly, playing coy as you reach for the collar of his golden robes and brush your fingertips over the silk, moving them down slowly until you hook them into the leather belt that sits loosely on his waist. You tug harshly, catching him off-guard and forcing him to move up onto the top step beside you. 

“Oberyn, play the game with me. We’re celebrating, remember?” You whisper, looking deep into his eyes. They always reminded you of the bark of the blood orange trees that grew in the orchards in Dorne, the wood a deep brown colour that lightened with flecks of gold in the light. His tan reminds you of the sunshine, his sigil, the very name he affectionately calls you. Everything about him reminds you of home. 

He regards you for a moment, knowing exactly what you want. You want him to imagine what it would be like if he was king- just for a moment. 

“Anything for you,” he murmurs, allowing you this happiness. You grin, launching into questions as you smooth your hands down his chest again, ignoring how his voice dips an octave.  

“What would you wear, My King?” You ask, smiling wide as he places his large hands on your hips. His palms practically eclipse you, which always makes you feel safe, even in King’s Landing. 

“I would wear golden silk,” he muses, turning you ever so slowly until he stands between you and the Iron Throne, his back to it. You watch him for a moment, the deviant look in his eyes, “I would wear velvet, and I would ensure you were to dress just as remarkably.” 

You allow yourself to imagine that for the two of you, always matching to ensure everyone knew you both belonged to each other. 

“And what would you eat?” You ask him, finding yourself lost for words just seconds later when Oberyn takes the initiative to sit himself upon the Iron Throne. He sits back, legs spread wide, looking up at you. Your blood runs cold, and you glance around quickly for a King’s Guard. There’s still no one around. 

“What would I eat?” He repeats your question, smirking as he retakes hold of your hips, “I would order that all the best foods of Dorne be delivered periodically, blood orange, pomegranates.” His palms work their way behind you as he talks, resting on your ass and pulling you forward. 

“Oberyn-” 

“We’d gorge upon the finest venison, the boar from the woods and wash it down with our wine,” he continues, pulling you forward until you were forced to straddle his lap, bracing yourself with your hand against the ‘head’ of the Throne, “We would want for nothing, the finest food always available to me upon my request….” 

Oberyn’s hands pull your hips down gently, rolling your hips against his. He’s stiff in his tight brown pants, his body disclosing his need for you. 

“And I would eat you,” he ponders cheekily, a smirk crossing his lips as he sees your surprise at his readiness to take you here, in the Grand Hall, upon the Iron Throne. You have barely a moment to snap out of your shocked stupor before he’s working at shucking your skirts upwards, fingertips grazing the inside of your thighs. 

Heat sparks up your spine at the realisation- he actually wants to do this. He wants to fuck you now, here. You spring into action almost immediately, working hastily on the belt that encompasses his waist. 

“As for activities, we would have magnificent feasts, drinking the night away. We’d fuck-” he punctuates with a spank to the bare skin of your inner thigh, causing you to gasp, “into the early mornings, with as many whores as you desire….” He trails off with a smirk as you slip the belt open and pull open his eggshell-coloured long coat, adorned with golden patterning to expose his bare chest under his low-cut tunic. 

As you work on the ties of his pants, fingers trembling with anticipation, he slips a finger into your exposed core, causing your back to arch into his touch. Your jaw slackens, the sensation electrified when accompanied by the possibility that anyone could just walk in. The two of you could be put to death for this, as it certainly constituted a charge of treason. 

“So wet for me, My Sun. Does the prospect of fucking me here excite you?” He teases unrelentingly, gazing at the needy expression on your face. You can feel him search for that spot inside you, the one he knows will have you positively dripping with anticipation. 

“I-I’m the one asking questions,” you say, wanting to sound assured and confident, but you find yourself rushing the words so as to not get cut off by a moan. It made you sound ingenuine. Your lover just smirks knowingly, slowly working in a second finger. You’re already so aroused that it doesn’t take much effort. 

“You are?” He murmurs, watching the way you keen for his touch, feeling your hips rock forward in search of contact with that sweet spot inside of you. If Oberyn put his mind to it, he could make you cum in seconds, but he liked to draw it out. Wants to torture you with pleasure. “Ask away.”

You let out a soft moan as his knuckle brushed your clit, fingers buried deep inside your cunt. Drunk on the building pleasure between your thighs, you allow yourself to consider for a moment what kind of king Oberyn would be. With a broken train of thought, as he focused on building your arousal, you find a half-answer of ‘compassionate and just’. 

“How would you wish for your crown to look?” You finally find the strength to ask of him. You work him out of his pants slowly, easing his cock out and brushing the swollen head with your thumb. Even through your lustful haze, you could imagine all kinds of styles he would wear, but always gold. 

Oberyn, though still moving his fingers, seemed to pause to contemplate this. His eyes searched your face, almost as though looking for inspiration. The silence of the Great Hall is cut only by your laboured breathing, the soft sounds of the fabric of your clothes rustling, and the wet sound of Oberyn pleasuring you.

The quiet is almost too much, and you find yourself growing anxious. Only as you turn your head over your shoulder to check for people does the Prince of Dorne take your chin in his free hand, forcing you to look back at him. He always did ask for your undivided attention.

“I ask they do not place a crown on my head,” he finally drawls in that pretty accent you had come to adore, removing his fingers from you and taking hold of the curve of your ass to lift your hips upwards and align you with him, “Just you on my cock.”

Before the words can settle into your bones, he’s sinking himself into you, using his hold on you to bring you down slowly. You both exhale shakily, the sound teetering on a moan and a whine as he stretches you out around him. He grits his teeth together, the muscles holding his jaw pulled tight as your warmth and tightness overwhelm him. 

You begin to circle your hips, grinding them against him as he leans back into the Throne, gliding his hands from your knees and up your thighs, smirking at the obscenely wet sounds that come from where he fills you. 

“Lift your skirts,” he murmurs, gazing up at you with hooded eyes. They are practically black, the pupils having swallowed the brown of his iris’ with need, “I want to watch myself fuck you, My Sun.” You whine softly, not in complaint but in contentment, as you bunch your skirts around your waist higher, exposing the sight to your lover. 

Oberyn doesn’t allow you to put in all the work, grinding his hips upwards to meet yours each time you sink onto his cock. Your head lolls back, enjoying the trail of tingling skin he leaves as his hands brush over the skin of your waist under your dress. You always claimed that Oberyn had sunshine in his fingertips, his touch leaving a trail of warmth as it brushed your skin. You can feel it now, the gentle heat that swirls under your skin as he drags his hand over your abdomen. 

And Oberyn just gazes up at you, dragging his eyes over every inch of you. He loves how your eyes roll back into your skull as he rolls his hips and hits something deep inside you that makes your toes curl. He feels the way the muscles in your thighs twitch at the sensation, and that’s how he knows he’s found it. 

“Right there?” He murmurs, voice so low and smoky that it creeps down your spine and settles deep inside your cunt. You can’t manage words, your voice stolen by the throbbing in your clit, so you just nod in agreement. 

Typically, he would begin to thrust harder, chase his high. But half of the reason this feels so good is the anticipation of being caught. He wants to drag it out as long as possible, so he uses the grip on your hips to slowly rock them back and forth on his cock, ensuring that each time he pushes into that spot inside you. 

You’re clamping down on him, wailing quietly as he teases you. Oberyn was brutal, never settling for anything other than blinding pleasure. But this is almost acute, so strong that you could cry- you do, tears welling in your eyes as he circles your hips slowly, his tongue brushing his lower lip as he watches his dick slide in and out of you. 

The sopping sounds of Oberyn’s cock continually slipping in and out of you ricochets off the ancient stone walls of the Red Keep. Your whines of bliss appear to spur him on, lighting something ablaze in him that had sparked with King Joffrey’s last breath. He’s almost delirious when he speaks but utterly sincere.

“I want you to conceive a child - here on the Iron Throne. I want you full of my seed, knowing he was born for the Throne itself.”

join the taglist here:

@xwing-baby , @mybugboy , @pansa-1-san , @pedrosprincess , @cosm1c-babe , @stardu5stbunny, @lil-stark , @heart-atttack @crybaby-blue-blog, @wingedgothapricot, @ssimelttilgniht @2pacacabra @pauldanosgf @leithatnight @hairyballs-101 @kirsteng42 @dindjarinsmut @s0ftgabby @milly-louise @aynsleywalker @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @uncassettodiricordi

[persephone11110]

rain is a good thing

Jake‘Hangman’Seresin x Reader

Chapter 5: Ubi Amor Ibi Dolor

Chapter Summary: Cardiac Arrest- when the heart stops beating suddenly, only Jake would go into cardiac minutes after Doctor Young leaves the room.

Warnings: medical induced coma, jake codes, sudden cardiac arrest,angst barely fluff, medical inaccuracys!!, mama seresin, mentions of child abuse, jake and y/n pov italicized is jakes, mentions of a dead family member — jake died grandma when he was a child

Characters: Gina Seresin, Doctor Kate Young(neurosurgeon), Doctor Mark Hayden(cardiothoracic surgeon), the daggers are mentioned but don’t have dialogue

A/n: i have no chill. thank you to everyone likes, reblogs and comments. I used a poem from Emily Dickinson— Hope Is The Thing With Feathers, the title is latin, latin for Where There’s Love Theres Pain

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Series Masterlist

WC: 1.1K

—

Everything was fine until it wasn’t.

You’d been reading Emily Dickson, your coworker Amy had been excitedly ranting about her months ago. Telling you and a few others nurses of how much she enjoyed her poems and how Dickinson has a way with words.

So you decided to give her a try.

You had no idea if it was true or not but you’ve heard as a trauma nurse that its good to talk to someone in coma as if their awake. It won’t make them wake up but it provides comfort to both you and the person. It also said during a coma the person can hear whatever happening outside. So you decided to read a few lines to Jake, wondering if he was bored of silence, of the constant tears you and Gina shed a couple times a day. The constant sounds all the machine made.

Hope is thing with feathers -

That perches the soul -

You sighed softly, god did you need hope- hope that Jake finally recovered enough to point were Doctor Young starts to ease his sedation. You had hope for you and Jake to rekindle whatever love you two had before you attacked him with accusations.

Whn do you realize you didn’t love me anymore?

You remember asking him— you expected him to say something worse, but he didn’t. He loved you even after you left him high and dry on a rainy day, with a hangover. You tore down his walls, he torn down your walls, you promised one another that the relationship would be better than your parents.

And sings the the tune without the words -

And never stops at all -

You hated when your mother compared you to your father. “You go tit for tat just like him Y/n, your anger just like him— not caring about the person on the receiving end of it”.

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

Jake hated when he got angry at you fearing that you wouldn’t see him, you see the men that you and him both feared. The men you two spent hiding from when they drank too much, the men who came home angry and ready to hurt everyone and everything in his path.

You and him hated being angry towards one another.

Gina wasn’t here at the moment she was inside Doctor Young office, discussing recovery and what Jake future looks like beyond it.

Could he return to flying?

You closed the book mumbling something about stretching your legs, getting food and finding Gina. As you left for the cafeteria you had some sudden urge to lean over a kiss Jake on his forehead. Saying something along the lines of “I missed you, I missed what we had”.

Look Jake thankful for the rest his body finally got, but at one point it even sleeping gets tiring. He’s supposed to cruising in his car to the base, he supposed up their flying for practice and fun, not laying in a hospital locked in his own mind.

He can’t use the bathroom by himself —hell he’s not even breathing on his own. Poor Y/n, the sounds of her sob when she first came to see him, he didn’t like that one bit. Jake didn’t like how she kept blaming herself for his accident or the breakup. How she deserved every little bad thing that came her way— he has remind himself to have a talk with his girl. Mama made it worse, with her constant apologies for the childhood she didn’t give him, for the constant pain his old man gave them both. Telling him about how much Rocky misses her buddy, how she’s starting to get in a mood.

The daggers came by to see him at some point, throwing threats around saying they’ll kill him first before he has the chance himself. They miss Jake’s constant sacarsm and insults and Bradshaw finally admitted that Jake had the better music taste.

Back to him and Y/n’s talk- usually Jake Seresin doesn’t do plans he just goes with the flow, rips the bandaid right off with ease but this time he can’t. He has to somehow tell Y/n he heard her say how much she missed him.

“I missed you Jake, I missed what we had”.

And god did he miss his girl, missed her body impression she left on the her side of the bed they shared. Her laughter- when she laughed you could see her tongue poking through her right cheek.

He wished he could just wake up, as if only it was that easy.

Jake wished he could keep thinking about his plan and future but a agitating pain in his chest kept interrupting his thinking. If only Jake could open his damn mouth and ask someone to give him something.

Jake wanted to reach his hand out and ask mama or Y/n for help. His body feels like he coming off adrenaline rush.

He didn’t hear neither mama or Y/n anymore.

What he did hear is a beeping sound getting louder and louder, what he didn’t hear was the sound of Y/n gasps and footsteps leaving his room abruptly, he didn’t hear how panicked she sounded when she yelled his name.

He didn’t see the amount of nurses that ran into his room, as they swarmed around him, them yelling a bunch of numbers, someone yelling page Dr. Hayden, Dr. Young.

The pressure in his chest got worse.

He didn’t feel Doctor Young flash a pen light in his eyes. He didn’t feel the pressure being applied to chest every two minutes, he didn’t hear them count to thirty.

He didn’t see mama and Y/n standing outside his hospital room with tears in their eyes, he didn’t see Y/n pacing up and down the hallway.

He did see the place he spent his entire childhood in.

Jake remembered this place, it was place he ran to every time he needed a break from his parents. A place filled with warmth and love, a place he knew that would protect him from harm.

“Hi sweetheart” Jake turned his around too see a woman he recognized immediately, Jake looked at her with a confused look, she smiles at him,“I knew you smelled my brownies from a mile away”. She closed the oven, wiping her hands on the apron tied around her waist.

“Grandma Lou…”. Jakes voice shook and he shakily took steps towards her, she opened her arms and Jake softly fell into them. “I’ve missed you”.

“I missed you too sweetheart”, she cupped the back of Jakes head, he was leaning in her touch. “Take a brownie, little one”. She lets go of Jake, Grandma Lou hands him a brownie from off the stove,“I know how much they make you feel better”.

She gives Jake a grin, as Grandma Lou gets his plate ready she ushers Jake into a chair, reminding him to sit and eat.

As Jakes chomping away at the brownie, she smiles at him again,“Take your time sweetheart”.

The heavy pressure in Jakes chest started to go away.

Taglist: @chocolatefartstrawberry, @buckysteveloki-me, @dontletthemtakeyoualive, @classyunknownlover, @els-marvelvsp, @i-am-mrsreckless, @cinderellasmissingshoes

[higgity-diggity-dummy]

These Strings That Bind Us

previous (1st chapter)

In which I question the writing voice I want to keep throughout this story, Nico talks with (literally just two) people, and he has strings tied to his fingers.

Also, some string logic important in this chapter: Only people with the feelings of connection to another person see the string; strings are semi-physical, as in they don’t ever get in the way or get tangled (unless I feel artsy and want to make marionette analogies), but they can be consciously moved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

chapter 2

Nico walked back to the doorstep of the Apollo cabin where Will Solace was waiting. He smirked at the half-surprised eyes Will wore. 

“What?” Nico asked him. “Did you think I wasn’t coming back?”

Will walked down the steps and stood facing Nico. “No.” 

Nico raised an eyebrow. “Ok well, maybe” Will confessed. “But you can’t blame me for being skeptical. You kind of have a history of running off.”

“Oh so you know my history. Stalker” Nico joked. 

Will rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible.” 

“Well, that’s on you for still choosing to be friends with me.” Nico let the words slip out before he can think about it.

Friends. They weren’t friends. We’re they? They couldn’t be. Nico was reminded of the promise he made to himself when they first met: he would not let Will through his barriers. 

But the more time they spent together, the harder it got…

What if he doesn’t even want to be friends with you? A corner of Nico’s mind asked. You probably just freaked him out, assuming you two were friends. You should leave him now before you get attached and he leaves you first. 

You never should have gotten close to him. Are you an idiot? This won’t end well. Especially not with that queer string you have on your finger. 

The thoughts cloud out the world around Nico as they swirl and overpower the importance of the present. Until the sound of laughter…

“Gods you’re terrible.” Will joked. 

Nico snapped back to reality. 

Will turned to walk to the infirmary, apparently assuming Nico is just going to join him (which he is, but still). 

“Hey, what was that conversation you just had with Percy and Annabeth?” Will asked abruptly. 

Nico felt his stomach drop. He stuttered thinking of a possible response that wouldn’t force him to reveal anything. 

But he also wants to reveal everything to Will. He’s so wonderful. 

Don’t be an idiot. 

“I… uhm, it was just…” 

He’s Nico’s soulmate. He should talk to him. Gods, he could imagine talking to that piercing smile and attentive eyes all day. 

No.  

“I kinda just went over there and uh…”

Will looked at him curiously. Nico looked away. 

He should look back at him. Meet his eyes. Stare into his eyes and talk about everything possible. Fate agrees with him. They gave him the string on his finger. The one that’s attached to Will. He’s so beautiful-

Stop! 

“They told me about the plans to go to collage together in New Rome,” Nico finally said. 

Walls back up. Reality checked. Will kept away from his heart. 

Will stayed silent for a bit, obviously tying to read the nuances of Nico’s tone and expression. He twirled his fingers around the rose gold string. 

“That’s all?” He said after a bit. “It seemed like… like it was a bit more…” he trails off. 

Nico refused to look at Will’s face. Just hearing the disappointment in his voice was enough to make him regret not saying the truth. Nico was too easily influenced by him…

He felt the string become more taut. His heart sped up at the reminder of it. At the reminder of the reciprocation of it. The fingers that twirled the string closer to his soulmate’s body. The movement that made Nico’s arm start to slightly raise. The hand that reaches to meet his own-

Nico yanked his hand back. He saw from the corner of his eye Will’s hand stutter in the language of physical comfort, before deciding to retreat back to its place by his side. 

“Let’s just go,” said Nico. 

And he headed off without checking that the son of Apollo was following him. 

~~~

Upon arriving at the infirmary, Will provided Nico with a bed to stay in and told him to wait for him to come back with forms and paperwork. Nico, however, wouldn’t see that paperwork ‘till much later than when Will had previously promised. His body crashed as soon as he laid down on the infirmary bed. It also apparently ignored all the sleep Nico had given it the night before because he was out cold for…

Oh dear gods… how long was he out for?

Why hadn’t Will woken him up? 

Ughh. He did not have the brain power to be thinking about that just yet. The world around him was still just as real as the dream he had just been in. 

When he gained enough consciousness to process his surroundings, the first thing he saw was a hand with a dimly lit maroon string tied to it. 

Fuuuck. 

It wasn’t too late to pretend to still be asleep, right? 

“Nico?”

Apparently it was. Unless…

“Nico, I know you’re awake. Stop trying to gaslight me.”

He groaned and slowly creeped himself up into a sitting position. “Do you really think I could gaslight you? Now I kind of want to try.” 

Percy chuckled at this. “I wouldn’t put it past you. However, my ironclad will is strong enough to kill a grazing goat.”

“An ‘ironclad will’ is a legal term idiot, “Nico retorted. “Also, isn’t your best friend a goat? Wouldn’t he find that offensive?”

“Actually, I’m allowed to say that because my best friend is a goat.” 

“Sounds like faulty logic to me. Also kinda racist.”

“Gods of Olympus, you really know how to escalate a conversation Nico.”

He just shrugged in response. 

Percy chuckled.

The string glowed a little. A new glow. A glow that was surprisingly not eerie. Not haunting. 

And then it faded. And the string turned less opaque. Was it fading?

An awkward silence fell over the two of them as they thought of what to say —of course while avoiding the topic that would make it more awkward. 

“How… long was I out?” said Nico in an attempt to solve this. 

Percy visibly relaxed. “About a day.”

Nico sprang up. “A day!? Why did nobody wake me up?”

 “Will said not to.” Percy shrugged.

“Of course he did,” Nico responded in the most annoyed tone he could muster. “That asshole drags me in here for three days just to have me unconscious for one of them.” 

“So that’s the deal then.” Percy said, as if it were a big mystery for him. “But… isn’t that better for you? Y’ know. Less days awake in this sterile jail.”

While Nico was trying to think of a response to that, apparently Percy had discovered it before him. 

“Oh! Oooh.” He grinned and snapped his fingers into a finger gun. “Heh heh. Heheheh. So you want to spend more time with him? You were happy to accept the three days deal.”

Nico brought his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them. 

“Somebody has a cruuush.” Percy said in a sing-song voice. 

“Keep your voice down,” Nico snapped at him. “Jesus. You-“ he stuttered. “You can’t just say that out loud! Somebody could hear you,” Nico whisper-shouted. 

Gods, that ignorant idiot. Nico looked around him to make sure nobody was paying attention. 

The snarky Percy from just a few seconds ago deflated upon hearing those words. “Are you really scared about that? Like, people knowing?”

Nico groaned. He really didn’t want to have this conversation. He’d had his fill of conversations for the the year —at least. “Maybe? I don’t know Percy. I guess so.” 

“But you were able to tell me and—“

“That was after years of fruitless pining, you idiot. And besides, who knows what people around here would think after overhearing a conversation about the local camp gay.” Nico said that last word significantly quieter than the rest. He looked around again, unable to relax until he saw nobody heard what he just said.

“Nico…” Those staple sea green eyes met his with a look of… concern? Pity? “Nobody thinks that way anymore… or well, I guess some people do. Depending on where you’re from or what your background is and…” he started to trail off until Nico cleared his throat, reminding him to get to the point. 

“Look, this is a safe space,” Percy said. 

Then why did it feel so unsafe to be himself?

“Sure there are some places where it’s frowned upon to be gay, but nobody in camp is like that.”

As if Nico could believe that. He thought about the shock and confusion on Percy’s face when he told him the truth. 

“And if anyone gives anyone a hard time about it, we’ll knock em’ dead… or just educate them on why they’re wrong.”

But they aren’t wrong. It is immoral to have such impulses. Those queers should be purified. 

You should be purified. 

Nico broke eye contact, as if he needed focus to be spent on this conversation with his inner thoughts. 

Too many thoughts.

Too many emotions. 

Too many strings. All tying him up into a marionette controlled by fate and Satan. Making him somebody he didn’t want to be. Somebody he had no control over. He was a jester for the gods laugh at. A performance that he wanted to be done watching. He just wanted to be done in general. He didn’t want to be the way he was. He didn’t like who he was made to be. 

You can change that. 

Can he?

It’s your choice, but you know what the right choice is. Don’t you?

Well, maybe but—

There are no maybes with this you coward! This is a decision and you need to choose correctly. 

But so many people had told him that it was okay to be who he was. From the get-go Jason had told him that he was on his side. And now-

Their thoughts are corrupted and you know it. You need to be clean—

“Nico?”

Oh right. Reality. 

“Are you ok?” 

He wasn’t sure. 

“Yeah. Sorry, I just zoned out a bit.”

That’s one word for it. 

“Well, think about what I said. I should probably leave now though. Breakfast and stuff.”

Nico nods. 

“Ok. Bye Percy.”

And he leaves with a wave. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading! Dear god did this chapter take a while to write. I’m struggling with dialogue and pacing right now so if y’all have any pointers or advice I’d love to know.

Also, there’s a scene I cut out of this chapter where Nico isn’t fully over his crush on Percy because I thought that it wouldn’t make sense to have Nico get over him so quickly, but I decided to cut it out because I didn’t know how I could fit that whole “getting over the crush that he is kinda already over” arc in the story. I may post the couple of paragraphs I wrote that birthed that idea though.

[howdoyousleep3]

Apols if I’m completely wrong but this Buck reminds me of ytlytn Buck. If I was Steve and walked into the kitchen to find this… we’ll damn I’d give him anything he wants 😍

https://www.tumblr.com/yourbuckies/721855155251838976/unearthlydust-sebastian-stan-for-out-magazine

Ohhhh! 😍 He does give off the same moody vibes. I picture him with a bit more muscle on him from working his factory job, but this is definitely the vibe. ❤️ Thank you for showing me, I lub him.

[nixnjix]

The dragon observed Zhen calmly. The Ho-oh was so flippant with his words and behavior. Leaning against his shoulder, all smiles and grins, Zhen proudly boasted about his small accomplishments and feats. It had been quite some time since he allowed the company of another to stay by him for a period.

It was surprisingly pleasant, his lips curving as Zhen stretched forth his hand, “You should have seen the look on his face when I cornered him. He didn’t know what to say,” Zhen snickered to himself.

“You have many kind words to say about your counterpart,” Caelus remarked, raising an eyebrow. He had never met the leviathan of the sea but he found himself curious, and interested by Zhen's many remarks. “I dare say it seems you are infatuated with him,” he teased, playfully nudging the Phoenix. 

A pause between them. Afraid he had said something wrong, Caelus spoke, “If I broached a sensitive topic I apol-”

“I think I am,” Zhen whispered quietly. “This isn’t the sake speaking,” he added. He had drank before they finally settled on the outskirts of his shrine. Not enough to make his thoughts clouded, just enough to be loose and relax. A gust of wind stirred his vermillion hair, his eyes carefully averting from the dragon beside him. “I think I really do like him,” he repeated more loudly, with confidence. 

Stunned, Caelus rumbled beside him, delighted. “Finally. To hear you say those words. I was beginning to think you were oblivious to the fact.” The way Zhen spoke the Lugia fondly. The look of affection and excitement on his face. It was clear as day to him however he adored his counterpart. “I dare say I am jealous of your relationship as much as I find it beneath me.” 

“Is it jealousy?” Zhen’s gaze seemed to gloss over as he assessed the dragon. “It looks like… sadness to me.” 

Caelus blinked. He had all but forgotten about the ability Zhen possessed. He could tell it wasn’t often the Ho-oh ever used it, if not never. The unique power of seeing another’s heart. “ Sometimes I forget you have this power.”

Zhen pulled back, hands in the air, “I’m sorry,” he quickly said. It was genuine, his expression sheepish. “It sorta happens when I… go a little bit overboard.” 

“I see.” The silence between the two became unsettling. As Zhen began to right himself, ready to apologize once more, Caelus began to speak, his voice quiet, “What you saw was thoughts of an old flame,” he smiled wistfully. “It is difficult to talk about but if it would encourage you to be more forward about your feelings with this… Ginjiro, this is what I wish to impart onto you.”

“I am sure you heard of the Celebi in the Ibex Forest, no? If not, she was a beauty to behold truly,” his voice filled with fervor, his gaze shimmering. He sensed something flit out of the corner of his eye. He looked up to see a butterfly fluttering past his stare. 

He reached out, curious. To his surprise, it stopped, landing on the tip of his finger. It shimmered a dazzling teal, serene, reminding him much of the fairy he spoke.

[lokifantasies]

Rescued (Loki/Jade/Reader)

Jade is finally found alive and reunited with her parents.

Read the Mischievous Life series here!

Follow Jade here!

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Jade has lost track of time – her phone dying moments after she contacted her dad. Evan hasn't been back since the last time – ten hours ago. Jade has been forced to keep her mind going – have faith that she'll be found soon and taken home where she's safe. She's in pain – excruciating, throbbing pain, but she can't think about that right now. The only thing she can think about is getting home to you, Loki, Thor, and her siblings. The fifteen-year-old knows that the trauma will take a toll on her, but she reminds herself that as long as her family is by her side, she'll come out alright.

She'll be able to say she's a kidnapping and sexual assault survivor.

"NYPD search warrant!" a male voice calls out from the floor above the room where Jade is being held. "If anyone's here, you'd better show yourself or we'll release the dog!" A few seconds go by, and the sound of a flashbang echoes the top floor. Soon after, the storming of the SWAT team becomes music to Jade's ears. "Jade!" an officer yells out as the team searches each room. She's not gagged this time – she's doesn't have a gun to her head anymore.

"DOWN HERE!" the teen screams at the top of her lungs – praying that they'll be able to follow her voice. The footsteps stop, and she screams again. "I'M DOWN HERE!"

"Jade!" another officer yells as he runs down the stairs into the room that the voice is coming from.

"I'm here!" she continues to yell – her voice cracking through her tears of relief. "Behind the wall!"

She can hear the officers exploring the basement wall. One officer moves a dresser, and he finds a small door.

"It's a fake wall," he reports to his fellow officers.

When Jade sees the flashlight from the SWAT officer's rifle, she scrambles to her feet and runs towards the opening. Immediately, the officer passes his gun over to another officer, and Jade jumps into the fully-armored SWAT officer's arms while the others breathe a sigh of relief.

"Can I go home now?" Jade tearfully asks the man – feeling him adjust his grip, so he can carry her to safety.

"You're going home, sweetie," he softly assures her.

While Jade is being checked out by a paramedic in the back of an ambulance, you and Loki arrive at the scene - the amount of flashing lights and sirens shocking both of you. Loki quickly parks, turns the car off, and jumps out of the car – sprinting up to the ambulance with you in tow.

"Jade!" Loki yells for his daughter. She turns her attention from the paramedic bandaging her wrist, to you and her father coming towards her. Instantly, the tears start coming from her exhausted, blue eyes. "Oh, thank the Gods you're alive," Loki sighs – wrapping the teenager in his arms and holding her head to his chest. She immediately hugs him back – squeezing him as tight as she can around his waist.

Seconds later, you join in on the hug, and Jade wraps her arms around both of you.

"I'm so sorry," you apologize to your daughter – placing a kiss on her matted, black hair. "Jade, I'm so sorry."

Jade shakes her head and lets the two of you go. "Mom...what are you sorry for?"

"That I wasn't there to protect you," you whisper – your tears still flowing

"No, mom," Jade denies, "this wasn't yours or dad's fault. Okay? This was his."

Loki scoffs to himself. "I should've made you stay home."

"Dad, stop!" Jade yells – jumping off the back of the ambulance. "Stop trying to make yourselves feel bad!" She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "I need you two more than ever."

You and Loki nod – pulling your eldest daughter back in for another hug. "We're sorry," you apologize. "We...Your father and I have never felt so much fear."

"Neither have I," Jade whispers – almost to herself – her eyes staring off as her mind relives everything that happened to her. "Can we please go home?"

[copedpoorly]

𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒   (  ACCEPTING   )  ☆   ;   @redemptioninterlude​​​​​​​   asked   :   (  STEADY  ;   sender gently catches and guides the emotionally distressed receiver against a wall in order to physically steady them  )

SHE HADN’T BEEN GONE LONG , but the second she did leave , he could feel himself teetering along the edge of a complete spiral . dante knew he fucked up right away with hart ,  he had been dealing with that guilt the only way he knew how ; drowning himself in the bottle and taking anything he could get his hands on. vulnerable emotions had never been an easy thing for him to deal with, that was just the way his brain had been wired. dante buried everything deep down, at least, until he met hart. he’d never wanted to open up to a person so much in his life, she made his life so much better, and he went and fucked it all up because he wanted to be selfish. it was his biggest regret in his life ; letting her go. what if he did things differently ? he couldn’t get the thought out of his head. he spent the first few days locked in a hotel room, sat in silence and fighting the war going on in his head. he almost went after hart, almost got the first plane ticket to new york, but the fear of rejection and hatred had kept him planted where he currently was. he couldn’t take another blow.  (  even if hart’s departure was his fault to begin with.  )  the feeling of abandonment weighed him down. when he was a kid, he couldn’t cope, as an adult ...  he at least had methods of numbing everything. 

he knew it wasn’t healthy, the way he chose to cope with the loss, but it was all he knew how to do. HEARTBREAK DIDN’T SUIT HIM. he was just looking to escape, he didn’t want to be stuck inside of his own head, it was a dark place. he went out looking for alcohol, some drugs and maybe a little bit of trouble. the alcohol and drugs came first, and with them infiltrating his system, it didn’t take too long for him to be met with TROUBLE. he had always been a fighter, it didn’t take much to provoke him, either. when some guy opened his mouth, dante’s fist was soon colliding with his face, and before he knew it they were both being throw out of the bar. it didn’t end there, either. it didn’t end until his fists were BLOODIED AND SCREAMING IN PAIN in the alleyway behind the bar. his face didn’t feel much better, either, but the other guy was in much worse shape than he was, given the way dante was still on his feet and the other guy was on his knees on the pavement. when the adrenaline wore off, and the rage subsided he was left standing, chest heaving, that’s when the sadness came over him all too quickly and more intensely than he was prepared for. he really screwed up this time.

he hadn’t even noticed avery at first, not until he heard her calling his name while he beat that stranger up. he could’ve kept going, but he stopped, because he still cared about avery, didn’t need her to see him worse than he already was. seeing her reminded him of hart, he wondered if avery hated him, too. he wouldn’t blame her if she did. he was a disaster, really. he shouldn’t have thought made the association, because now hart was right back at the center of his mind, and he really fucking missed her.  “  i’m sorry,  ”  he said, and he really was. he’d always be sorry about this, and the guilt would always be there, too. the longer he looked at avery, the more he thought about hart, and the more his chest ached. it was really starting to settle in, when he had nothing else but himself and avery in that alleyway. the poison in his system didn’t help him, either. he could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, and he didn’t think there was anything he was going to be able to do to stop them. the last thing he wanted to do was break down in front of avery, but his emotions were in control of him, he couldn’t stop them no matter how desperately he wanted to.  “  fuck,  i’m so sorry,  ”  he spoke again. though, he wasn’t really sure who he was apologizing to anymore. avery or hart. 

the next few moments were a blur, he remembered stumbling forward, his vision blurry with tears, then hands on him that guided him to lean against the brick wall outside the bar. his breathing was rapid, hands trembling. he wondered if hart would be disappointed in him if she knew. dante swallowed nervously as he reminded himself to breathe, he needed to get himself under control. he truly never meant for avery to see him this way, he was such a fucking mess. when he had himself as composed as he was going to get, he hesitantly met avery’s gaze. a new panic set in, she’d just seen something that was definitely concerning. dante glanced over to see that the guy had managed to pull himself to his feet and was walking away. that was probably for the best. his gaze went back to avery, he knew he shouldn’t have asked what he was going to, he knew she was her best friend, but avery was his friend too.  “  don’t tell her,  ”  he begged, his voice desperate.  “  avery, please don’t tell her.... i... i don’t want her to know what i’ve been doing.  ”  he just hoped avery could see things from his perspective, could see why he wouldn’t hart to know about just how unwell he was. 

[goldenboywrites]

in my mind, you're mine forever

“Ollie?” Oliver Davenport looked up mid pancake flip and met the adoring gaze of Theodore Maddox-Wicker. He leaned across the counter after Theo hopped up onto a stool and ruffled the kid’s bedhead even more. “Good morning. Did dad already leave?”

“Good morning, birthday boy.” He flipped the pancake again before deeming it worthy enough for the boy sitting across from him. “Yes, he left early for work but he wanted me to tell you that his first present to you was not waking you up before he left and that he will be home early to celebrate with all of us.” Oliver spooned cut-up strawberries onto the plate then poured a healthy amount (which Apollo could scold him for if he were present) of syrup on the pancakes before passing the plate off to Theo. “Your uncle Cass will be by later and your aunt Artemis…” 

Theo forked a strawberry, his carefree smile turning into a frown. One that pained Oliver’s heart to see. “But I won’t see my dad.” 

He wasn’t talking about Apollo. 

“No,” Oliver said carefully, turning off the stove and placing the last pancake on a plate for himself. “Probably not tonight but you’ll see him this weekend. And I heard a rumor that he may be taking you to Australia for a few days as an extra special surprise but don’t tell him I told you.” The former Gryffindor grabbed a fork and cut through the side of the pancake. Theo’s frown only deepened and Oliver inhaled slowly before continuing. “I know it’s not what you want but both of your dads are doing their best. Remember that, kiddo.” 

Theo made a noncommittal noise and ate some of his pancakes. Oliver knew him well enough to see the gears turning in that brain of his. “Do you think my dad will come home soon?”

He nearly choked on the piece of pancake in his mouth. Immediately Oliver grabbed a glass of orange juice and washed it down. He glanced at Apollo and Isaac’s son, the most wonderful kid he had the pleasure of knowing. There was nothing Oliver wouldn’t do for Theodore Maddox-Wicker. He would move mountains, slay dragons, give him a kidney. This was the kid that he and Cassio both loved as if he were their own. Guilty, his gaze quickly shifted down to his own plate. He didn’t have the courage to tell Theo that he didn’t know. 

“I wish they would just talk like they used to,” Theodore said as he pushed his plate away, more than half of it was uneaten and Oliver knew he should be the adult in the situation and make sure the boy ate a good breakfast but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not when it was the first birthday Theo would have to celebrate twice because his dads weren’t together. “I know they still love each other.” 

Oliver sighed, pushing his own plate aside and resting his arms flat on the counter. He bent his back,  groaning lightly at the light crack of his spine. Fuck, he was getting old. They all were. “I think they’ll always love each other, kid. And if it’s meant to be then they’ll find a way back to each other. All we can do is give them time.” 

“Time makes things worse. Space makes things worse.” Theo argued, his mouth forming a pout. 

Not always. Sometimes staying together when things aren’t working does more damage. Is what Oliver wanted to say but he had to remind himself who he was talking to. A child whose entire world was upside down and changing. He didn’t want to crush the innocent hope he still had. “Alright, you’ve got me there.” Oliver threw his hands up in mock defeat. 

“So you’ll help me then?”

Oliver Davenport’s face paled and his brow furrowed into a line of confusion. “Help you?” He questioned.

“Parent trap them, duh.” Theo reached his hand out expectedly and gave Oliver an impatient look. “Phone, please.” 

“I don’t understand that reference,” Oliver admitted but still took his phone out of his pocket and handed it off to Theo despite the uneasiness he felt in the pit of his stomach. “Please tell me you just want to play candy crush…” 

“I’m going to get them to talk or remember how much they love each other and our fam-” Theo explained at the same time that Oliver warned, “Theo…” 

“Please, uncle Ollie?” Oh no, his heart clenched in his chest and he tried to look away before but no, Theo that look on his face. His big, brown puppy dog eyes staring up at him as if he put the stars in the sky. “Please help me. I can’t do it without you…” 

Oliver sighed. Then he sighed again. After that, he crossed his arms over his chest and light stomped his foot out. It wasn’t fair. The love he held for this kid wasn’t fair. Cassio was going to murder him for getting involved. “As your father’s best friend,”

“I thought uncle Cass was dad’s best frien-” 

“Uncle Cass and I are a packaged deal so if he’s your father’s best friend then that makes me his best friend too. Also, I saved his life one time and uncle Cass hasn’t,” Oliver paused, shaking his head. “Never mind, anyways. As your dad’s best friend I say heck yes, let’s do it. But I also feel like I need to also say that as the only mature, responsible adult, and your unofficial guardian when your dads are working, that I do not approve of meddling in other adults private affairs.”

But Theo wasn’t listening. He was punching in number’s on Oliver’s phone and then lifting it up to his ear. Oliver heard it ring and then the muffled voice of Isaac on the other line. Theo whimpered at sound of his dad’s voice and huffed out, “Hi dad,” trying (and succeeding) in making himself sound as sad and pathetic as possible. He was good. He was real good. And Oliver was scared about what he had just agreed to do. 

===============

“This better be an emergency. I’m trying to leave the office on time,” Apollo muttered into the phone as he tucked it between his ear and his shoulder. “Please tell me you were able to pick up the cake.” He shuffled through a thick stack of papers, notes from his three current court cases. The work never seemed to end these days. 

“Hi, sister. How are you? Are you well? Are you enjoying the nice weather we’re having?” She said in a mocking tone. “It’s amazing to me that you have so many clients when you clearly don’t know how to properly answer the phone.” Sometimes, most of the times, Apollo wished he was an only child. Having a twin sister who constantly called you out on your own bullshit was exhausting.

“My clients don’t pay me to be polite on the phone,” He reminded her with a sigh. “They pay me to win their cases.”

She scoffed and he imagined rolled her eyes at the same time. “Ah yes, my brother. The shark of the wizarding world. Anyways, I was checking in to make sure you didn’t need me to pick up anything else but since you’re in wonderful mood, I’m not sure I want to do you any favors.”

He was trying. Really he was, despite what everyone around him thought. Despite what Isaac believed about him these days. He was trying to be a better person and a better father. He was trying to control his anger, still trying to work through the hardships he had faced in his life. There were still quite a few things that haunted Apollo even though he had tried to put his past behind him. A lot of it was bubbling back up to the surface now that Isaac had left him. 

“Hello?” Artemis sang into the phone. Apollo shook his head and refocused. 

“Just get to the house. Oliver is there with Theo. Cass is picking up dinner and I will be home in half an hour.” Apollo stopped suddenly, his phone nearly slipping from his ear as he felt the wards around his building shift in a sickeningly familiar way. He gritted his teeth and then, in an attempt to calm himself, took a sharp breath. “Just keep an eye on Theo, okay? He’s really struggling with everything that’s going on and I want him to feel special on his birthday. I know he’s disappointed that-” He couldn’t say his name. He wouldn’t. The door to his office opened and Apollo glanced up to see a trio of men standing in his door. “Artemis,” He hissed, not breaking eye contact with the man in the middle. 

“Yeah, Apollo. I know. We’re all make sure he has good time tonight and you will too, right? You’ll be home on time? Promise me you won’t let him down today…” 

The men walked to the bar cart on the right side of Apollo’s office. They helped themselves to glasses of scotch. With his free hand, Apollo rubbed at his forehead. “I uh,” Sometimes the weight on his shoulders felt so heavy he was scared he would crumble under the pressure. “Something has come up. I’ll get there as soon as I can.” 

“Apol-” He hung up on her.

“This better be good,” Apollo said through gritted teeth as each of the men took a seat in front of him. “I have somewhere important to be.�� 

The man seated in the center, tapped his fingers against the glass and raised a brow at him. “Do you now? Something more important that this meeting, you say? Do we need to remind you that you are indebted to us for life? Must we remind you that you are here in this fancy office because we put you here? You would be rotting in Azkaban with Beery if it weren’t for us. So how about we start this meeting over again. This time with manners.” 

Apollo gritted his teeth so hard, his hands shook and he laced his fingers together so they wouldn’t see. An empty glass on the bar cart behind him shattered. Yet he didn’t pay it any attention. Instead he leaned back in his chair and forced a tight grin to show. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

Maybe one day he would free from the things that held him prisoner.

[floralguccistyles]

nine: aliens, bigfoot, and nerds, oh my!

“Have you been eating, sweetheart? You’ve lost at least ten pounds since the last time I’ve seen you.”

My father rolled his eyes from over my mother’s shoulder as she pulled me into a big hug. Every time I saw my mother, she mentioned how skinny I was getting even though I was sure I had gained about five pounds since the last time I’d seen her. It was usually an excuse to come into my flat and make us a giant dinner, which I would never complain about. Her arms squeezed my shoulders as she released me, pulling back so she could look at my face.

“Pretty as ever, sweetheart.” 

“Eva, can I please hug our daughter hello now?”

I laughed as my mother made a big deal of moving out of the way so my father could hug me. His embrace was familiar, his arms the ones I ran to when the bullying in secondary school got too bad to handle on my own. He had wiped my tears away and said “you’re one of a kind, mija, and they’re jealous of that.” 

“Was the drive okay?” I asked them, pulling away from my father after he planted a quick kiss on my hairline. Their suitcases (the ones they had owned when they came to England) were decorated with vibrant stickers from Cuba. They were worn now, scratched at the corners, but their color had miraculously remained. 

“It was wonderful. It’s been so long since we’ve been to London, and now look at us! We’re here to celebrate our daughter’s book!”

Inviting them to the book release party had been a last minute decision, but I found myself happy that I had. Though I knew they were proud of me, I also knew that they didn’t really understand a lot of the fandom stuff I had discussed in several chapters. They would read it to support me, of that I was sure, but I was uncertain about if they’d actually enjoy it. 

“You probably won’t understand a lot of it, Mum.”

“You don’t know that. Your father and I have been watching that Doctor show...what’s it called, Roberto?”

“I don’t know, Eva. I fall asleep when it’s on.”

“It’s called Doctor Who, Mum,” I snorted out, biting back a bigger laugh. 

“Whatever it’s called, we’ve been watching it. And we were alive when Star Wars came out, you know. I was there for the Darth Vader reveal and everything. Mamá took me to the theater and got me an extra large popcorn.”

I liked hearing little stories like that. It was almost too easy to picture my mum, sitting there in a little theater in Cuba when the true identity of Darth Vader was revealed. My grandmother had probably grasped her chest with her hand and shouted “¡Dios mío!” at the top of her lungs. If I eventually travelled to Cuba, if the movie theater was still there, I decided I would visit it.

The three of us piled into the Uber I had called for us, which wasn’t hard because their suitcases were so small. On the way to my flat, my parents regaled stories about their drive to London and how she was upset my dad wouldn’t let her listen to Dua Lipa on the radio because “that Dua Lipa girl was very talented, Petra.” We made it back to my flat with only three arguments broken out between them.

“You guys are staying in my room and I’m camping out on the couch,” I informed them, helping my mum to carry her suitcase in. “Sorry it’s so cramped. It’s perfect for me, but unfortunately having guests is a little difficult.”

“We could have stayed in a hotel, baby,” My father commented.

“I’m not going to make my parents pay for a hotel room. I can sleep on the couch for one night and survive, Dad.” They had been to my flat before, but I still showed them where the extra towels and soap was in the bathroom. “The party’s at seven tonight, and dinner will be served. I’ve got to go a little earlier, but I’m just a text away if you need anything.”

“My baby,” my mum said, her eyes glistening, “we are so proud of you!”

I found myself enveloped in another tight hug, this time joined by my father. The lump in my throat grew when I thought of their praise. Too often, I had taken their support for granted. “I love you both.”

“We love you, mija.”

A sudden knock on my door had us pulling apart. “Were you expecting anyone, baby?” my mum asked, going to the front foyer and looking out the foggy windows. “It’s a boy, Roberto!”

“What?” 

I moved around my frozen parents to answer the door, swinging it open and greeting Harry Styles’s smiling face with a blank look. I had no idea what Harry was doing here, but he really had very impeccable timing. 

And by impeccable, I meant shit. 

“Morning! I was thinking about grabbing something to eat at a little bistro around here and thought I’d come by and see what you were up to today. Wanna join?”

Speech wouldn’t come. I felt the stares of my parents behind me, still hidden from Harry’s view, and how they would squeal and gush when they found out I was on somewhat good terms with Harry Styles, something they’d been trying to get me to do for years. “Harry—”

“Harry?” My mum’s voice asked loudly from where she was standing. She marched up behind me and swung the door open a little wider so he could clearly see her. “Oh my goodness! Harry Styles! Petra, it’s Harry Styles!”

“I know who he is, Mum,” I whispered in an embarrassed voice.

“Last time I saw you, you were about four feet tall,” My mother cooed, stepping forward. Before Harry could react, she had him in a tight hug, wrapping her arms around his body. “Petra didn’t tell me you were friends again!”

I bit down the urge to argue that we were never friends, but my mother wouldn’t listen. She never had when it had come to my bullies at school. “Just give them a chance to change, Petra,” she had told me when I would bury my face in her shoulder and cry that I didn’t want to go to school.

“Hi, Mrs. Gallego. I didn’t know you guys were coming to town. Sorry for intruding on family day. I was just coming down to this part of town to grab some lunch and wanted to see if Petra could come. No worries, though. I don’t want to take away—”

“Nonsense!” My father cut in, reaching out his hand for Harry to shake. “Nice to see you again, Harry. Feel free to take Petra to lunch. We’re probably going to nap a little before her release party tonight. The drive was long.”

“Release party?” Harry asked, glancing back and forth between my parents and me.

I awkwardly scratched the side of my head. “My, er, book is being released tonight.” 

“What? Petra, that’s amazing!” His smile seemed genuine enough, but all I wanted was to shut the door and rewind the last five minutes. I never would have answered the door in front of my parents if I had known it was going to be Harry on the other side. “If you, um, want to go...it can be a celebratory lunch. And obviously you all are invited, Mr. and Mrs. Gallego.”

“Oh, Harry, we’d love to come, wouldn’t we, Petra?”

My eyes moved between Harry’s cautiously hopeful face and my parents, who were already grabbing my mum’s purse and getting ready to leave. In their eyes, I had already agreed. “Sure,” I said uncomfortably. “That’s fine. Let me just call an Uber for us and we’ll follow behind you.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, Petra. We can call an Uber and you can go with Harry.”

There was no arguing with Eva Gallego when she set her mind to something, so I just nodded. “Okay. Er...I guess that settles that.”

We awkwardly stood around in my foyer until my mum cleared her throat. “Petra, darling, aren’t you going to invite Harry in while we wait for our ride?”

“Right. Come on in, Harry.”

His gaze locked on mine, expression questioning. I knew he felt the tension that was creeping up inside me with having him in the same room as my parents, but I didn’t want to get into it. Not when I knew it would ruin my night. The morning had already started off with self-destructive behavior as I looked back at some of the tweets about my day out with Harry from February. I had never been as aware of my appearance as I was in that moment, scrolling through absolute strangers saying the worst things. I had an extra appointment with Doctor Thorne this week to make up for it.

“How long have you and Petra been hanging out again?” My mum asked as we all sat in my living room. 

“A couple of months. She contacted me in January about being on the show. It was an amazing experience.”

“I just love listening to Petra’s podcast,” my father said happily, reaching over and patting my knee. “I have no clue what she’s talking about half the time, but she sounds damn smart saying it.”

“She’s incredibly smart,” Harry agreed, and I ignored the urge to bang my head on the coffee table. I didn’t want him agreeing with my parents about my intelligence. We weren’t really that good of friends, if I even considered us friends yet. I had admitted to myself that Harry had definitely changed for the better, but that didn’t mean the past hurt went away.

“I almost forgot, mija! Your grandma sent you Materva. She said you wrote her an email about it.”

Normally, I would be jumping for joy. The first and only time my grandmother had visited from Cuba, she had brought Materva with her and it had become my favorite drink. With Harry here, however, I felt uncomfortable and self-conscious. I squirmed a little in my seat.

“That was nice of her. I’ll email her and tell her thank you. Want me to put it in the fridge?”

My father went off to my room to grab the Materva and Harry raised a quizzical eyebrow. “What is Moterva?”

“Materva,” my mum corrected with a smile. “It’s a soda.”

“And it’s delicious. Remind Petra to let you try some later,” my father said, returning with a set of six cans. “She sent us more, but we’re selfish and kept the rest of it at home for us.”

He stocked them in my fridge and pulled out his phone when he heard the small chime. “Our Uber is here. We’ll see you two at the restaurant.”

I made sure they made it into their car okay before I hesitantly pulled open the door of Harry’s. We both got ourselves situated, clicking our seatbelts into place. 

He didn’t start the car.

“I didn’t know your parents would be here,” he said, offering me an apologetic smile. “I could tell it...it made you uncomfortable.”

“I’m just not used to this.” I gestured back and forth between us with my hand. “And my parents...they mean well, but when I was in secondary school and coming home to them crying, they told me to try and make friends with you guys. They didn’t really understand how hard that would have been. They think I should let bygones be bygones and I want to...but I don’t know if I can just yet.”

“I completely understand.” He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “Can I ask you something a little personal?”

“I don’t know if I’ll answer.” Honesty seemed to be the best approach with Harry.

“Why do you seem so embarrassed when your Cuban heritage is mentioned around me? When your dad brought out the soda, it looks like you were going to stab yourself with a fork.”

Go back to where you came from, Gallego. Nathan Penrose’s voice filtered through my thoughts. To them, I wasn’t English enough for England. But it was almost worse to feel that I wasn’t Cuban enough for Cuba.

“It’s about what that prick Nathan said when we were younger, right?” he asked softly, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel remembering it. “I so wish I would have punched him in the face.”

“It’s not just Nathan. That’s a big part of it, but it’s not just you I feel uncomfortable talking about it with.”

“Okay. You don’t have to talk about it, but...just know you can, if you ever want to. I’m serious about trying to be friends, Petra.”

The rest of the car ride was spent in silence, with some pop song playing lowly over the speakers. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, per se, but it made me wriggle around in my seat and wish I was sitting at the restaurant already. I wasn’t used to silences with Harry not trying to fill the space with his random thoughts. I appreciated that he was letting me just sit and absorb the moments, but it was also unnerving.

We pulled up to the little bistro right after my parents, who had already decided to get a table for us. Harry walked around to the other side of his car and opened the door for me, holding out his hand to help me out. My parents waved us over from their table outside, pulling out our chairs. I was seated between Harry and my mum, across from my father. It meant that I caught the sly looks they gave me whenever Harry was engrossed with his menu.

“What’s good here, Harry?” My mum asked after a couple moments of looking.

“I like their vegan buffalo wings and macaroni.”

“You’re vegan?” I asked in surprise, raising a brow at him.

“No, but I eat plant based meat when I can. And most places make their vegan wings with cauliflower, which hurts my stomach. This place makes them with mushrooms.”

“Petra loves mushrooms. You should try them, sweetheart.”

I set my menu down without really looking at it. “I’m getting a bagel and their cucumber and edamame salad.” Since both of my parents loved cucumbers, I knew I would be sharing at least a few bites with them. It was normal for us to sample each other’s meals. “What are you getting, Mum?”

“Maybe the chicken breast and mashed potato lunch special. Your father, predictable as ever, is getting a burger.”

My dad shrugged. “Don’t fix what isn’t broken.”

The waitress eyed Harry a little longer than necessary when she came to take our orders, but eventually left. I could tell he would be getting asked to take a picture before he left, despite how unprofessional that was. Then I thought about if it had been Hayden Christensen if I had been the waitress and understood what the fuss was about. 

“So, Harry,” my mum said after a long sip of her lemonade, which I knew meant she was going to ask a lot of questions, “what have you been doing now that you’re solo? I ran into your Mum when she was visiting home for a couple of weeks and she showed me one of your music videos. You’re very talented!”

I’d never seen Harry Styles blush, but I noticed a faint twinge of pink on his cheeks. “Thank you, Mrs. Gallego. I’m writing some more music right now, but I’m not sure when the next album will be out.”

“We just love listening to your first album. We listen to your group stuff too,” Mum commented, tapping her nails on her wrist. “Petra has a wonderful singing voice, did you know?”

Before Harry could question the statement, my father and I both snorted. “No, she doesn’t, Eva. No offense, mija.”

“None taken. I sound like a dying animal. Mum, I hate to tell you this, but the last time I sang, you were very intoxicated and would have thought our next door neighbor’s cat was Shakira.”

“Petra’s good at other things, though. She’s awesome on Alien Crossing. And I’m sure her book is going to be fantastic,” Harry supplied helpfully. 

“Has she invited you to the party tonight? I know her other friends are coming. Jeremiah, Veronica, and Melody?”

I shifted in my seat. Harry looked pained, like he didn’t want to say anything that would hurt my mum’s feelings. I hadn’t invited him to the book release party because this book was mine, something untainted by the memories of secondary school. Talking about my nerd stuff on AC was one thing, but publishing them on paper was another. “Mum…” I trailed off.

“He could come with us! Are you going to buy a copy of the book, Harry?” 

“Mum, he’s not going to buy—”

“Yeah, actually. I preordered it on my phone. And I was going to buy a hard copy, as well.”

Harry’s words had my mouth closing in surprise. I blinked over at him, at his secretive little smile when he raised his soda up to his lips and took a sip. “You preordered it?” I whispered, my throat thick with some emotion I couldn’t identify. “You’re not gonna understand it all.”

“Well, I’ll understand the Lord of the Rings bits now. And anything unfamiliar I come across, I’ll just make a note to watch or read it.”

This action felt more significant than anything that had happened in our hesitant friendship thus far. Even though he had introduced me to John Williams and had brought me a plant, this was the thing that felt essential. I felt like the Grinch in that moment, my heart growing a size bigger and allowing room for hesitant optimism to sink in. Maybe Harry Styles and I actually could be friends. 

Which was why when my mum suggested him coming another time, I shyly looked over at him and said, “Of course you can come if you’d like. I’ll text you the details.”

~

My publisher had rented out the Aldgate Library at my college for the release.

It felt weird stepping back into the library, stumbling a little in my black heels when I accidentally grazed a rock on the sidewalk right outside. The last time I had been here, I had my hair in a messy ponytail and was in tears at midnight trying to study for my last finals of my university career. Now, I was publishing a book. It felt surreal.

I smoothed down the skirt of my red dress, trying my best not to chew on my lip. Veronica had meticulously spread some kind of red lip stain on it that was supposed to be long lasting, but I didn’t trust it’s longevity against my teeth nervously biting at it. Plus, I knew pictures would be taken tonight and the last thing I needed was to have lipstick on my teeth. 

“Petra!” My publisher said, walking out of Aldgate in a tailored suit. She was also wearing a little badge that had “Aimee Metcalfe, Dorrance Publishing” printed right underneath a fantastic photo of her. I found myself jealous. My ID photos never came out that great. “What’re you doing standing outside? Come in, you numpty!”

I gave Aimee a quick salute and followed her inside, trying to keep up with her. As familiar as she was walking in heels, it was a new skill set to me entirely. She led me through the front of Aldgate and back into one of the large common area study rooms, which had been transformed for the launch. There was a giant banner hung up on the far left side, with #Aliens #Bigfoot #Nerds printed over it in sparkling letters. In front of the banner was a table decorated with cupcakes and cake pops, each the same color blue as my book cover, which featured a picture of myself that I hated but Aimee had insisted the readers would love. Jeremiah and Zach were shoving their faces with one of the cake pops, while Veronica looked on in disgust. Bailey was chatting with Melody by the photo booth that Aimee had suggested, which when printed, would frame the pictures in the same hashtags the banner provided.

My parents were crying in the corner of the room.

I went to them first, holding out my arms. My mum immediately let out a wail, pulling me into an embrace. “This is supposed to be a happy day, Mum.”

“Oh, I’m so happy for you, sweetheart. You have worked so hard. And you look beautiful.” She pulled back to examine my dress and makeup, pressing her hand to her mouth when she did. “Such a beautiful young woman, inside and out. Oh, how did we get so lucky, Roberto?”

My dad smiled at me. “Proud doesn’t even cover it, mija. Your mum has demanded she be first in the book signing line.”

“Oh, I did not, Roberto!”

“Petra,” Aimee said, interrupting our conversation. She introduced herself to my parents and then led me over to the podium. “You’re going to do the reading, and then Terri and I put together a fun little trivia game about some of the fandoms in the book. Whoever wins that will get a free signed copy. Afterwards, you’re on book signing duty. We’ve got about twelve hundred Sharpies lined up for you. Questions?”

My head was spinning with all the information, but I found myself growing excited. This was something I had put blood, sweat, and tears into. And I was finally getting to share it with the people who meant the most to me. “None so far. I’ll flag you down if any come up.”

“Good. Oh,” she said, reaching into her bag, “keep this close. This is your best friend when you’re up there reading and when you’re signing books.”

She handed me a water bottle with room temperature water, which was apparently better for the vocal cords. Then she was pushing me towards the podium and I hid the water bottle on the hidden shelf on my side. My book was sitting there, my own face staring back at me.

When I looked into the sea of people, I saw my friends giving me encouraging looks and my parents crying happily, my mother now with a tissue from the dessert bar that she pressed underneath her eyes every five seconds. The rest of the people in the room were people who were avid listeners of AC, the ones who sent in messages for me to read. I noticed Daisy Callahan sitting at one of the tables, shooting looks over to Jeremiah and smiling like a smitten school girl. I made a mental note to ask Jeremiah if they were officially together after the reading.

And then, there was Harry Styles.

It looked like he had just come in, dressed in a nice suit in a dark red color. I was so used to seeing him in bright neons when he was dressed up that the muted burgundy almost faded into the background. However, he was still Harry Styles and it was hard for Harry to do anything but stand out. He was fidgeting with his suit jacket, messing around with the collar of it before he looked up and caught my eye.

I wondered what he saw, looking at me standing up on the podium. I knew what my friends and family saw; they saw me finally getting one of my big wishes to come true. But what did Harry Styles, who already got his dream, see? 

I didn’t have time to think about it, because Aimee was gesturing for me to start the reading. She was helping usher people to their seats, and I felt the weight of more than just Harry’s eyes on me.

“Good evening everyone,” I said into the small microphone attached in front of me. “Thank you all for coming. This is the culmination of blood, sweat, tears, and other bodily substances I won’t mention. I can’t wait to share it with you. This reading comes from chapter seven, in which I discuss why Game of Thrones actually became so popular and how I think the last season is going to go, amongst other things.”

Jeremiah let out an embarrassing whooping sound and I rolled my eyes. 

Then, I read.

If I had expected to be embarrassed standing there in front of a crowd, reading the words I had written, I was wrong. Instead of feeling down, like I had so many times before when I discussed the things I loved, I felt powerful. Because yeah, Nathan Penrose could be a racist asshole all he wanted, and his friends could drop all my books in the puddle. But I had done it. I had written my book, I had a kickass podcast that introduced me to my best friends, and I was filled with an uncharacteristic pride.

So I went along with it. It’s what Doctor Thorne would have wanted. But more importantly, it was what I wanted.

Aimee had been a lifesaver with the water, as I found myself finishing up my excerpt and drinking nearly all of it during the applause. “Thank you,” I said after I had capped the bottle and set it back where I had it hidden. “Thank you to Aimee Metcalfe, my knight in shining armor through this process. Thank you to Terri Patterson, who spent night and day editing. Thank you to everyone at Dorrance Publishing who put up with trying to get copyright issues taken care of because I wrote about some of the biggest money shark companies in here,” I paused for the light laughter that trickled through the room. “But most importantly, thank you to my friends and family and everyone who supported me through this. It means the world. I hope you enjoy the rest of the book.”

There was a small table with stacks and stacks of my book. I didn’t think I’d ever seen that many pictures of me in one place before, including my parents’ house. Aimee started up the trivia game, and I heard the first question asked about what the aliens that destroyed New York in the first Avengers movie was called while I took my seat at the table.

“The book is awesome.” I heard from my left. I turned, seeing Harry standing beside the table, leaning against a pillar. “I could tell you love it when you were reading.”

“It’s a little overwhelming to see it all finished,” I said, awkwardly gesturing to the pile of books in front of me. 

“Would you ever want to write fiction?”

I shrugged. “I’m not sure. For now, no. I might change my mind later.” He nodded, fixing his suit jacket again like he had been earlier. “I didn’t expect you to come,” I said after a few moments.

His eyes crinkled and his head tilted to the side, like he was confused. “Why? You invited me and this is important to you. I wouldn’t miss it.”

“It wasn’t hard...with the paps or anything?”

His jaw set and told me everything I needed to know. “I’ve got someone on security here tonight, just in case. I’m not gonna let anything ruin your big night, including paps. There was someone who recognized my car, but I don’t think anyone else is coming.” He unclenched his jaw and looked down at me. A softer look took over his face. “You look gorgeous. That color reminds me of the dress you wore to prom.”

I blinked. “You didn’t talk to me at prom.”

In fact, I had spent most of prom standing in the corner, nursing the lemonade I had gotten myself. Nathan Penrose had spiked it, but not before I had gotten myself a cup. I had saved up all my money for the pretty red spaghetti strap dress, but looking back it was a useless purchase. I didn’t have fun and was home drinking tea and watching Legally Blonde by midnight.

Harry gave me a small smile. “No, but I saw you. I remembered thinking you looked so beautiful and how I was an idiot for how I’d treated you.”

“You did not,” I argued, rolling my eyes at his statement. “You were thinking of your audition and what song you were going to sing. I wasn’t even a blip on your radar.”

He shrugged, bringing his own water up to his lips. “Think what you think. Doesn’t change the fact you looked gorgeous— then and now.”

I fiddled with one of the books in front of me. I didn’t know how to take his compliment. It was something I’d always been bad at, but especially when it came to Harry. Part of me wanted so badly to believe he was telling the truth; he had seen me at prom and thought I looked pretty and was looking at me now and seeing the same thing. The other part of me was hardened and cold, telling myself not to fall for it.

In the end I just decided to ignore his comment. If I didn’t acknowledge it, then I didn’t have to dissect my feelings on it.

“I’ve got to take off. I’m sorry I can’t stay long. I’m flying out to Los Angeles tonight for some meetings. But I wanted to be here.” He held up one of my books and set it in front of me. “Last time I asked, you said you wouldn’t sign it.”

“Wipe that cheeky grin off your face. Of course I’ll sign it.” He slipped a fifty pound note onto the table (more than double what he actually had to pay for the book) and opened up the title page.

The blank page stared at me. There were so many things I could write. Aimee advised me just to sign my name, but that felt too impersonal for Harry. Uncapping the pen, I held down the page with my other hand to keep it steady.

Live long and prosper, my young padawan.

Petra Gallego

He grinned when I handed it back to him. “I’m reading this on my flight to LA.”

“Might put you to sleep.”

“I don’t think it could,” he argued, tucking it under his arm. “Think I could...um...text you while I’m there?”

“I can’t control what you do or don’t do, Harry.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to give you the choice.”

The choice to talk to him. It was something I didn’t have in secondary school, but I realized a small part of me acknowledged that it was something I didn’t have now, either. There was something in me that wanted to see where this friendship with Harry went and if we could make it work.

“Yeah, Harry. You can text me when you’re in LA.”

Which was how I woke up the next morning, with a message reading: Made it to LA. Didn’t stop reading once. And despite what you may think, I didn’t fall asleep either.

~

A/N: Here is the next installment of AC! I hope you guys liked reading as much as I loved writing. I’m just so happy for Petra!

[yandere-southpark]

Never thought about yandere South Park but I am definitely for it can I request yandere butter as friends and lovers (separate) if possible also can I just say love butter such a good boy he deserves so much❤️ hope to see more from you💕💕

HCs for Platonic and Romantic Yandere Butters

A.N. - Thanks for the warm welcome! Butters is my favourite character, so this request made me so happy. Also, I put a ‘keep reading’ cut because this ended up getting pretty long. I hope you enjoy it.

Leopold "Butters" Stotch

Platonic:

His friend most likely protected him from bullies or comforted him after an especially harsh punishment by his father, and now Butters idolizes them. Every time he feels like playing, whether it's with toys in his backyard, colouring in his room or anything else, he goes out of his way to invite them.

On the playground, he follows them around and does whatever they are doing while chattering about his day and any random topic that pops into his head. Wherever his friend sits on the bus, Butters is always right next to them. He walks them home, talking all the way, and has to be reminded that he doesn't live with them.

Sleepovers are constant and seemingly neverending. Butters wants to spend as much time with his friend as possible, and his parents often get in the way of this, so the sleepovers take place almost exclusively at his friend's house. He brings all sorts of drawings and knickknacks to show them and stays on their heels the whole time, rambling excitedly about everything he wants to do.

The two of them usually end up playing make-believe and doing a movie marathon before Butters presents a new drawing he made celebrating their friendship. He commemorates every single sleepover with one, and his friend has an overflowing drawer dedicated specifically to these drawings.

Unintentionally manipulative. Butters is never more enthusiastic than when his friend agrees to hang out, so when they decline, it feels like his whole world has come crashing down around him. He spends the rest of the day moping and miserable, wondering if he did something wrong or if they have finally grown tired of him as everyone else has.

Unfortunately, this uncertainty only leads to Butters doubling down on his clingy behaviour. More friendship drawings, more hugs, and more sleepovers. He smothers them to the point where even Cartman is unsettled, and his parents forcibly intervene with dubious results.

Jealousy is not too big of an issue. Butters doesn't mind if his friend is dating someone as long as their partner treats them well and is not monopolizing their time. He understands that they may have other friends and won't come after them, but that doesn't stop him from pouting whenever someone interrupts a hang out session and being extra clingy afterwards.

Romantic:

This kid is all over his partner 24/7 with gifts galore. Before Butters confesses, he bombards his crush with homemade novelties and any trinkets he thinks they will like. While not a full-time stalker, he does pay the utmost attention to them at school and memorizes everything he hears about their interests.

He frequently seeks out his crush at recess and asks them if they want to hang out at Stark's Pond or any other more secluded date spot after school, and their response will make or break his day.

His infatuation with them is blatantly obvious to most everyone, what with his tendency to get very carried away while talking about them and his habit of sweating and blushing while staring at them from the moment they enter the room to the moment they exit it.

Absolutely terrified of abandonment. Butters views his partner as one of the few people who doesn't think of him as a pathetic loser, and he wants more than anything to keep it that way.

He overcompensates for this fear by doing everything in his power to please them, so if they show any signs of being unhappy with him, Butters will panic immensely and plead with them to not leave him while drowning them in apology gifts. It's an overwhelming reaction that usually only serves to make his partner feel uncomfortable and guilty, unwittingly manipulating them, even if in actuality he had misread the situation or jumped to conclusions.

Already affectionate to a fault, but this behaviour increases tenfold once he is in a relationship with his crush. At that point, Butters almost never leaves their side and is always touching them in one way or another.

Hugs are constant, linger for more than a little too long, and nearly break their spine. He is not the type to force kisses, but if his partner ever did kiss him, he would erupt in euphoria and remain on cloud nine for the remainder of the week.

It may sound nice in concept, but what this would truly entail is an endless stream of phone calls and text messages whenever they are apart, and Butters never letting go of his partner's hand or giving them any semblance of personal space when they are together.

If his partner tries to avoid him, it only makes him more clingy. If they ask him to take it down a notch, he interprets it as them being upset with him, which leads to apology gifts and guilt that sparks even more clinginess. It's a terrible cycle, really.

Jealousy is a much more prevalent issue than Butters cares to admit. It largely stems from his insecurities, but every time he catches someone being a little too friendly with his partner, he gets the itch to let his more villainous alter ego take the reins. His mind is a dark place during this time, and it's not unheard of for him to let a few thinly veiled insults slip that would make a sailor blush.

No one is in any immediate danger as long as they take the hint and back off soon because everyone has their breaking point, and Butters isn't always so merciful once he reaches his.

[divinaes-bookofsecrets]

Hello! i would like a spirit guide reading, my initials are CF and im a scorpio 14/11, i love your work thank u so much!

👋 hello, CF ♏ 🦂 Scorpio,

Your Spirit Guide is Goddess of the 🌈 Rainbow, Messenger of the Gods: 🌿 IRIS

IRIS BIO:

In Greek mythology, Iris (/ˈaɪrɪs/; Greek: Ἶρις, Ancient Greek: [îːris]) is the personification and goddess of the rainbow and messenger of the gods.

According to Hesiod's Theogony, Iris is the daughter of Thaumas and the Oceanid Electra and the sister of the Harpies: Aello and Ocypete. During the Titanomachy, Iris was the messenger of the Olympian gods while her twin sister Arke betrayed the Olympians and became the messenger of the Titans. She is the goddess of the rainbow. She also serves nectar to the goddesses and gods to drink. Zephyrus, who is the god of the west wind is her consort. Their son is Pothos (Nonnus, Dionysiaca). According to the Dionysiaca of Nonnos, Iris' brother is Hydaspes (book XXVI, lines 355-365).

She is also known as one of the goddesses of the sea and the sky. Iris links the gods to humanity. She travels with the speed of wind from one end of the world to the other[1] and into the depths of the sea and the underworld.

Iris had numerous poetic titles and epithets, including chrysopteros (χρυσόπτερος "golden winged"), podas ōkea (πόδας ὠκέα "swift footed") or podēnemos ōkea (ποδήνεμος ὠκέα "wind-swift footed"), roscida ("dewy", Latin), and Thaumantias (Θαυμαντιάς "Daughter of Thaumas, Wondrous One"), aellopus (ἀελλόπους "storm-footed, storm-swift).[2] She also watered the clouds with her pitcher, obtaining the water from the sea.

🦋🌸🦋The hieroglyph for her name originally used meant (female) of flesh, i.e. mortal, and she may simply have represented deified, real, queens. The most commonly used name for this deity, Isis, is a Greek corruption of the Egyptian name; and its pronunciation as 'eye-sis' is a further corruption by English speakers. The true Egyptian pronunciation is unknown, as Egyptian hieroglyphs only recorded consonants, and left out most of the vowels. The Egyptian hieroglyphics for her name are commonly transliterated as jst; as a convenience, Egyptologists pronounce that as ee-set.

IRIS (Iris), a daughter of Thaumas (whence she is called Thaumantias, Virg. Aen. ix. 5) and Electra, and sister of the Harpies. (Hes. Theog. 266, 780; Apollod. i. 2. § 6; Plat. Theaet. p. 155. d; Plut. de Plac. Philos. iii. 5.) In the Homeric poems she appears as the minister of the Olympian gods, who carries messages from Ida to Olympus, from gods to gods, and from gods to men. (Il. xv. 144, xxiv. 78, 95, ii. 787, xviii. 168, Hymn. in Apoll. Del. 102, &c.) In accordance with these functions of Iris, her name is commonly derived from erô eirô; so that Iris would mean "the speaker or messenger:" but it is not impossible that it may be connected with eirô, "I join," whence eirênê ; so that Iris, the goddess of the rainbow, would be the joiner or conciliator, or the messenger of heaven, who restores peace in nature. In the Homeric poems, it is true, Iris does not appear as the goddess of the rainbow, but the rainbow itself is called iris (Il xi. 27, xvii. 547): and this brilliant phenomenon in tile skies, which vanishes as quickly as it appears, was regarded as the swift minister of the gods. Her genealogy too supports the opinion that Iris was originally the personification of the rainbow. In the earlier poets, and even in Theocritus (xvii. 134) and Virgil (Aen. v. 610) Iris appears as a virgin goddess; but according to later writers, she was married to Zephyrus, and became by him the mother of Eros. (Eustath. ad Hom. pp. 391, 555; Plut. Amat. 20.) With regard to her functions, which we have above briefly described, we may further observe, that the Odyssey never mentions Iris, but only Hermes as the messenger of the gods: in the Iliad, on the other hand, she appears most frequently, and on the most different occasions. She is principally engaged in the service of Zeus, but also in that of Hera, and even serves Achilles in calling the winds to his assistance. (Il. xxiii. 199.) She further performs her services not only when commanded, but she sometimes advises and assists of her own accord (iii. 122, xv. 201. xviii. 197. xxiv. 74, &c.). In later poets she appears on the whole in the same capacity as in the Iliad, but she occurs gradually more and more exclusively in the service of Hera, both in the later Greek and Latin poets. (Callim. Hymn. in Del. 232; Virg. Aen. v. 606; Apollon. Rhod. ii. 288, 432; Ov. Met. xiv. 830, &c.) Some poets describe Iris actually as the rainbow itself, but Servius (ad Aen v. 610) states that the rainbow is only the road on which Iris travels, and which therefore appears whenever the goddess wants it, and vanishes when it is no longer needed: and it would seem that this latter notion was the more prevalent one in antiquity. Respecting the worship of Iris very few traces have come down to us, and we only know that the Delians offered to her on the island of Hecate cakes made of wheat and honey and dried figs. (Athen. xiv. p. 645; comp. Müller, Aegin. p. 170.) No statues of Iris have been preserved, but we find her frequently represented on vases and in bas-reliefs, either standing and dressed in a long and wide tunic, over which hangs a light upper garment, with wings attached to her shoulders, and carrying the herald's staff in her left hand; or she appears flying with wings attached to her shoulders and sandals, with the staff and a pitcher in her hands.

AELLOPUS (Aellopous), a surname of Iris, the messenger of the gods, by which she is described as swift-footed like a storm-wind. Homer uses the form aellopos. (Il. 409.)

Source: Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology.

A goddess named “Iris” personified the rainbow in the mythology of ancient Greece. Most works of art depict her either in the form of a beautiful rainbow, or as a lovely maiden. She wore wings on her shoulders and usually carried a pitcher in one hand. Her name combined the Greek words for “messenger” and “the rainbow” to signify her dual role. Some accounts depict her as one of the goddess Hera’s assistants. (Hera carries associations with the sky.)

The ancient Greeks considered Iris the female counterpart of Hermes. She served as a messenger from Mount Olympus. She would use her pitcher to scoop up water from the ocean and carry it into the clouds. Some legends also hold she used her pitcher to collect water from the River Styx, the shadowy river separating the world of human beings from the underworld. Many Greeks viewed Iris as an important link between mortals and the realm of the gods.

The Family Life of Iris

Most sources describe Iris as the daughter of the Oceanid cloud nymph Elektra and Thaumas, a minor god sometimes associated with the sea. She would have been one of the Titan Oceanus’ granddaughters. Her rainbow frequently appeared in the sky over bodies of water.

Legends differ about her life as an adult. Some stories describe her as unmarried and primarily a messenger for the Olympian gods. In other accounts, she fell in love with Zephyros, the god of the West Wind. They had a son named Pothos, who personified Desire.

Iris as a Messenger

Iris would frequently use her pitcher to serve nectar to the gods and goddesses on Mount Olympus. When these major ancient Greek deities needed to send messages to other gods or to human beings, they would sometimes ask Iris to transmit their words. She could travel very quickly from Mount Olympus to Earth, and could even journey quickly into Hades.

Many ancient Greeks considered Iris one of the most beautiful goddesses. The ancient Greeks described her as “swift footed”, suggesting she could respond rapidly to requests. In legends, she carries symbolic associations with messages and communication.

WHAT DOES SHE LOOK LIKE ?

Iris is depicted in ancient Greek vase painting as a beautiful young woman with golden wings, a herald's rod (kerykeion), and sometimes a water-pitcher (oinochoe) in her hand. She was usually depicted standing beside Zeus or Hera, sometimes serving nectar from her jug. As cup-bearer of the gods Iris is often indistinguishable from Hebe in art.

WHAT DOES IRIS MEAN?

The message that rainbows connect us to the immortal can be seen in many mythologies worldwide, including Japanese and Navajo, though each has a different back story and belief. In our lives, we can see the rainbow as being symbolic of a transition, suggesting a potential change from one phase to another.

Rainbow – Other Symbolic Meanings

In general, rainbows are seen as transcending the earthly realm. Rainbows are the physical symbolism of this ascent. It provides us with inspiration to achieve greater heights and seek wisdom from the worlds beyond. The rainbow is the bridge that closes the gap between these two realms and allows for the possibility for communication. It is symbolic of possibility in many other ways as well. The glowing arch appears high above our horizon and can look close and distant at the same time. We are incapable of finding its end.

The rainbow challenges us to be a better version of ourselves. A more inclusive person, a person who seeks a challenge, a person who desires spiritual growth and a connection to the spiritual realm, a person who endures the darkness in pursuit of the light.

Like the rainbow, these things can seem far away and out of our reach. The important thing, though, is that we keep striving for them. The rainbow symbolism is powerful because it reminds us of the endless possibilities. It shows us vast and magical our world is. Rainbows challenge us to confront and embrace our own potential.

SPIRIT GUIDE MESSAGES

Thank you for meeting your Spirit Guide today .. if you ever want to contact your Spirit Guide, Iris, you'll have to try a guided meditation especially designed for Spirit Guides (YouTube has plenty of sufficient one)

But if you prefer that I get in contact with her and get you some messages just simply go to my PayPal and give a donation .. thanks 😊

---D*ivinae*

[readingsoyoucanavoidlife]

Jily through the ages - second year - Lily

Lily arrived at the station and for the first time she felt like she was truly part of the wizarding world. She walked through the crowds with certainty that she had never felt before. The wizarding world was becoming a habit to her and she welcomed it. Although it did mean that she was moving quicker than her parents and Lily was sure that if she didn’t slow down she might lose them all together. Lily’s summer had been interesting to say the least. Her sister Petunia had taken to making it her job to throw as many insults at Lily as she could before  she got caught or Lily completely lost it. It was times like this when Lily realised that she wouldn’t ever fit into either world properly and she started spending more time away from the house and instead with her best friend. It wasn’t that she didn’t miss her family whilst she was away for most of the year, it was that they wouldn’t be able to understand why she felt like she was separate from everyone. 

Snapping out of her thoughts, Lily realised that she had managed to end up right where she was supposed to be, at the entrance on platform 9 ¾. Lily Bid a quick farewell to her parents and offered a smile to her sister which she got a scowl in return. After having received much worse treatment than this before Lily brushed it off and entered the magical platform without anyone for the first time. She barged her way through the crowd that had formed by the train and successfully managed to heave her trunk on. Please with herself, Lily looked over at the crowd in hopes of finding a familiar face amongst it. Sev and her had agreed to sit with their other friends on the train due to the fact that they had spent all summer together, but Lily was still hoping that she would be able to see him before they started their journey to Hogwarts. Although Lily didn’t have to wait too long to recognise someone as at that moment her eyes caught a familiar Black wading through the crowd. He looked similar to how he did the first time she met him and nothing like he had when he left Hogwarts at the end of last year. He looked older and more aware of everything around him. Looking at him now he reminded her a bit like Sev did at home, with the Victorian style clothing and tired eyes. Although Lily did have to admit, Sirius wore it a lot better than Sev ever did. His clothes were tailored to him, his eyes still sparkled even though they looked like they had been on guard for weeks and his hair (as always) was perfect. She was about to turn away when he caught her eye, he had a smug look on his face and he winked at her. Lily felt anger boil up inside of her. Just when she thought that he couldn’t be that bad, he had to go and act like a prick. Lily was suddenly reminded of her vow the previous year and instead of paying him any attention, like she knew he wanted, she looked right past him and waved to someone behind him. Fortunately for her spite wave had been received by her friend Mary McDonald. Mary was a pretty girl, even though many didn’t take a second look. She had nothing remarkable about her but that didn’t deteriorate from the fact that she had pleasant features. Her brunette hair was styled nicely and fell to its usual place, midway between her shoulders and elbows. Her pale bluey greeny grey eyes crinkled when she smiled at Lily. Like Lily she was also a muggleborn and one of her dorm mates, therefore the girl was in her muggle clothes that were a lot more fashionable and made her passable for a muggle compared to many of the pure bloods and half bloods that were boarding the train and. Mary made her way over towards the red head and Lily could see in the corner of her eye that Black did have the courtesy to look slightly embarrassed. 

The two girls managed to find an empty compartment and settled themselves into it. Lily sat back and took in the familiar sight of the train. She had missed the wizarding world in her time away and the closest thing she was able to get to it were from the occasional letters her friends sent and her best friend. Mary had begun talking about her summer when she went to France and all the wizarding places that were there that her mother and father didn’t allow her to explore as much as she wanted due to the fact that they were muggles and she was only 13. Whilst Lily was giving her much shorter account of the summer, the door flew open and a very flustered looking Marlene McKinnon entered. Marlene's bright blue eyes looked glassy and her cheeks were a little more rosy than usual but apart from that she looked like she was put together. Marlene had long blond hair that had pretty curls in it when she could be bothered to dry it properly. The girl was still sporting shorts and a t-shirt with a jumper completely forgotten about was hanging loosely off her shoulders. She didn’t talk until she had plopped herself onto a seat and started helping herself to some of Mary’s muggle candy that she had bought with her. Marlene made a face at the taste of the liquorice she had eaten and Mary upon seeing this offered her a strawberry lace that suited her much better. Lily raised her eyebrows at her friend and the blond sighed and elaborated on her bad mood. It turns out that Marlene had had a not so great farewell with her family since her mother had insisted on pointing out everything that Marlene had wrong with her and didn’t even give her the opportunity to fix it. Mary smiled sympathetically and Lily reassured her that she was perfect but then the girls lapsed into a silence that was filled with contemplation. This was why when the door banged open all three girls jumped and caused the person outside the door to start laughing. Collecting herself, Lily recognised the laugh to belong to one of her friends. Emmeline Vance. The girl stood in the doorway and revelled in her friend's shock. Emmeline had pale green eyes that her light brown hair usually fell into because of her loose bangs. Emmeline had a loose bob hair cut that suited her well and made her clothes stand out all the more. Despite Lily’s luck earlier, Emmeline’s hysteria was attracting lots of attention. Particularly those of the four boys she was dreading to have to see again. 

Potter and the others made their way over to their compartment and started up a friendly enough conversation and Potter and Marlene got into a pretty heated discussion about who was better at quidditch. Lily noticed that the train had started to move and that the boys were still in her compartment. They hadn’t been invited in and she certainly didn’t want them there, so she voiced her feelings and sent them on their way. After they had left, the other girls commented on how rude she was, to which Lily felt irritated and spewed out all her feelings on the matter. The compartment was silent for a few moments before Marlene said that if what Sev had said was true then there would be no harm in knocking them down a few pegs. Marlene also said that what Sev said may not be totally true because they only knew one side of the story that would be biased and that she had known Potter since childhood and it didn’t sound like him to be awful for no reason, he always had some motivation behind it. Lily felt herself blush at her outburst but also angry at Marlene as well now for defending the bratty boys. She knew Marlene was only trying to make sense of it and help her not jump to any conclusions, but Lily couldn’t find herself able to doubt Sev. In the back of her mind, Lily knew that she probably should, but on the other hand she had no reason to do so and Sev had never lied to her before. I mean he was the one to tell her about Hogwarts. After a moment's reflection Lily decided that Sev was right and the boys who had already irritated her in the first place were bigger prats than they appeared to be. (definitely not because it was easier to hate the boys she didn’t know than to question her best friend)

To Lily’s horror, the boys ( or marauders as they had now taken to calling themselves) seemed to crave even more attention than they already had. With Potter making the quidditch team as a chaser a few weeks after the start of the school year, it meant that everyone in Gryffindor was buzzing about him. Lily felt like she was the only one in her house that didn’t care about this fact and it didn’t excuse the part about him being a jerk. In Lily’s opinion one good thing didn't outweigh a bad thing or make a person better if the person didn’t feel ashamed and have to live with the bad decisions and do better in the future and not try to prove themselves and that they are changed by a big heroic decision. Even her dorm mates learned to not talk about the marauders in front of Lily because of the fact that she would start lecturing them about this. In short Lily was alone in her opinions once again, but this time she wasn’t hiding it and although she didn’t make the marauders life hell, like they did if they didn’t like someone, she just made sure that whatever they did they got something back for it. It was rather like Lily was made responsible for giving them karma instead of the professors that usually did it for their students. As a result of this, Lily often ended up getting into arguments with them although however much they disagreed with her, they still were popular with the rest of the school. Lily even overheard one of the fourth years say that they wished Potter was a few years older, this conversation made Lily want to throw up and she almost ran out of the common room. In her haste to get away from hearing the rest of what she was sure was going to be a traumatic conversation, Lily didn’t see where she was going and accidentally hurled herself at someone climbing through the portrait hole. 

Hurriedly apologising already, Lily didn’t notice who she had crashed into until she heard an all too familiar staggering coming from the person's side. She looked up and immediately her apology died on her tongue. Of course it was just her luck that if she wanted to get away from the topic of him, she would end up bumping into him (quite literally). Potter looked just as surprised to have her in front of him as she was to be there and immediately she took a step away from him. That action seemed to cause him to return back to reality and he annoyingly ran his hand through his hair. Lily rolled her eyes at his action and when he smiled like he was relieved to have that familiarity which just made her furrow her brows even more, although this time it was out of confusion instead of irritation. Lily found herself in no mood to argue with the boy in front of her so she quickly side stepped him and continued on her way. 

For some reason Potter seemed to think that now she had apologised to him about banging into him, they were on good terms and he kept trying to get her attention any time they were near each other. Of course most of the time Lily fell into his trap of paying him attention, but rather unlike the other people that payed him attention, Lily would end up insulting him and continuously attempted to deflate his ever growing ego. The year passed and as it went on Potter became more and more strange around her, Lily assumed that she was finally getting through to him about how much of a prick he was. Although from her increasingly more rare chats with Sev, that thought was quickly thrown out the window. 

Throughout the year, Lily and Sev’s relationship had started to become more fragile. Lily put it down to the different crowds that they were in. I mean it wasn’t usual at that time for a Slytherin and Gryffindor to be friends, especially with the environment outside the castle becoming more strained. However Lily did like to think that they put time in for each other with the catch up sessions they would have at the weekends or in their shared classes. However recently those sessions had become more of a thing out of the eye of Sev’s other friends and more secluded. Deep down this hurt Lily and she hated the fact that he was growing ashamed of her. Although Lily didn’t let this show and just appreciated the time she had with him. This was why Lily Evans welcomed the summer holidays so much as it allowed her time to fix her relationship with her best friend.

[kneesheee]

love and life

Day Two: WhiteLantern!Kyle | Young Justice Verse

Since becoming a White Lantern, Kyle had been blessed with all kind of powers. Unlike most lanterns, he didn’t learn how to use their ring powers from their respective corps. He was surrounded by the personification of the emotions themselves.

He was more than the White Lantern.

He was the son of Love.

[And man, it had been a trip to tell the Star Sapphires that they were using their rings wrong. Of course, some of the more traditional users had been offended that a man was telling them what to do.]

But there was one thing that he never expected being both.

With the ring amplify the powers he was born with [and made him question continuously why he wasn’t given a sapphire ring to begin with], he could feel all the love in the air on Olympus. He nearly drove him crazy. He didn’t understand how his mother and brother and every other entity of love could put up with it.

Just being around the High-King and Queen was enough to drive him insane.

And that didn’t mention all the love the parents had for their children or the children had for their siblings.

When that happened, he usually tended to hide away in his Uncle’s temple. But Apollon had his days where his grief and love for his son seemed to overpower everything else. The sun seemed to shine brighter and dimmed lighter in response.

Kyle made it his business to keep away during those times. He either shot off back into space or he went somewhere were the sun did not shine.

Like right now, he was flying over Gotham at night.

Which was wonderful because he could still feel the aftershocks of Apollo’s grief.

His ring pinged, “Lifeform detected.”

Yeah, no shit. He was in a city filled with people.

“Lifeform detected. Begin resurrection in 5.”

What.

A small beacon of light escape from his ring that Kyle followed desperately. It led him to Gotham’s cemetery. Looking around, Kyle didn’t see what was so special at first until he caught sight of the two men standing near a set of graves.

Just from the feeling of them, he knew that they were deities.

What stood out the most was that the two of them were standing near the grave that his ring’s light was siphoning into. He really hoped he wasn’t bringing about the zombie apocalypse. He’s pretty sure that King Hades and Lord Thanatos would kill him.

Squaring his shoulders, Kyle made his way over to the two deities.

They turned once he got close enough and Kyle blanched when he realized the two were the aforementioned gods. He quickly moved to drop into a bow before a hand stops him.

“Good. You’re here,” Uncle Hades stated. He turned his head back to the grave. “We’ve been trying to figure out a decent way to revive this soul. His fate has taken a turn. He was never meant to die.”

Kyle’s smart response: “Uhhh.”

Thanatos nods his head a little irritated. He wasn’t in the business of granting life back to the dead, but he was making an exception. “We leave him in your care.”

“Resurrection: 75% complete.”

Kyle jumped before gazing back down at the grave.

Here lies

Jason Todd

Two gods grappling in the air flashes of black and gold. A steak of silver and green wrapping around the golden god pulling him an away.

August 16th XXXX- April 27th XXXX

“Tell me, Kyle. What is your opinion of death?”

A loving son and a loving brother.

Cries of grief and rage. The harsh bearing of the sun. Asclepius had to be kept under watch. Apollo wouldn’t leave his temple. It was turning out to be close to Demeter & Persephone.

There was a small scripture in Greek that lined the tombstone.

May the gods be with you.

Olympus had always been beautiful. Even in its grief, there was beauty. Kyle felt stronger and weaker just being around it.

“Resurrection: 100% complete.”

Kyle realized three things.

One) He was alone in the graveyard.

Two) It had begun pouring down raining.

Three) The ground in front of him was collapsing inwards.

He stepped back letting the power of his ring surround him before a body appeared from the ground. Kyle squeaked.

[Absently, Kyle noticed how attractive the boy was. The reddish brown curls that reminded him of Olympian sunsets. The freckles on his cheeks that reminded him of the stars. The tanned skin that so beautifully bronzed.]

“Dad? Bruce? Apol—”

Oh, now that just broke Kyle’s heart. He was calling for his fathers. Kyle reached out to grab the boy when suddenly he was pulled down to the ground. He got a face filled with mud before the body was flipping over him.

What. The. Fuck?

When he wiped the mud from his face and turned around, the zombie was stumbling away.

“Ring, give me a vital scan.”

Bright white light engulfed the boy as it took in his vitals.

“Scan completed. Brain damaged. Four broken ribs. Twisted ankle. Nerve damage to fingernails. Oxygen is slowly going to the brain. Healing factor is suspended.”

Fuck.

Kyle flew towards the undead boy before having to dodge a fist and a kick. The two danced around each other as the boy dodged the blasts of white that were trying to get him to stay still so he could heal.

“Jason! Stop! Please!”

But it didn’t seem like the boy could hear him anymore before he jumped directly at Kyle. The White Lantern jerked back.

For a dead guy, he sure knew how to throw a punch.

The boy disappeared into the night while Kyle took the skies to search for him. Metas were technically not allowed in Gotham. But Kyle was here on godly business and therefore not a meta. And besides, he would be doing Bruce a favor if he could find his adopted son. But still, he didn’t have time to argue the technicalities with the man and he definitely wasn’t in the mood for his family to kill the human. He bended the light around him until he was invisible.

“Ring, start tracking.”

Bright white footsteps caught his attention. When he flew down to look, he noticed the muddy prints across the ground. They led him throw alleyway and holes in the walls. Past prostitute which given his mother was the patron of prostitutes… he waved his power over them giving them just a little bit more warmth and protection from the cold. There was also a blessing that whatever they made that night would be double the amount than usual.

Kyle stood in disbelief as he watched zombie boy fighting off a group of attackers before he seemed to sense him. The other demigod stood stock-still before seemingly look directly at Kyle with his blank gaze and taking off again.

It was going to be a long night.