#pan de peace!

[animegirleatingaburger]

[ladies-of-fiction]

[thepronounsnatcher]

[cloveroctobers]

OCTOBER PROMPTS 🎃 — 1. Luca

PROMPTS from here + here and I’m using: “I really appreciate that you’re getting into the Halloween spirit, but it’s ten in the morning, please turn off the slasher films so I can eat my breakfast in peace.” + “Pumpkin spiced latte, please.”

A/N: so glad Luca was voted for the most on the poll lol because he’s the only one out of the options I started writing for in the drafts! let’s see if I can keep up with making these short this year 🤭! This is nothing but fluff and a smidge of annoyance — reader on Luca’s nerves just a bit really. Mentions of a classic horror film, that I actually need to go back and watch! I think I watched it once before since I won’t lie I usually watch the more updated versions when it comes to that franchise more so,, although I’m not the biggest fan of the series anyways like dear Luca…don’t drag us too much ⚔️!!!

WARNINGS: Reader being a bum for the day? Luca just wants to eat without background noise? + slight language, oh and pumpkin slander!

*GIF BELONGS TO: @wiha-jun !

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧ ⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧ ⛧°。

Luca prefers his mornings to be soothing, not filled with screams that can make anyone’s ear drums bleed or have the neighbors in the cul- de-sac sending the coppers right over. He had just gotten back from his morning run around the city, finding you sleeping down on the couch now compared to your shared bed. Which was humorous that you had the energy to climb out of the bed wrapped in mountains of blankets that you kept stored in a woven basket tucked away in the living space; during his absence just to continue your rest on the pale gray sofa.

You barely budged when he announced he was heading out into the damp morning and also repeated the same motion when he’s back, gently bending down to press a kiss to your edges before disappearing upstairs to shower. You’re awake with lidded eyes once he’s arrived downstairs, smelling of fresh mint soap and Olibanum as you’re messing around with the flatscreen on the entertainment center.

“Are you truly awake for the day darling or is it going to be another two to three business days?” Luca jokes on his way by, not expecting what you were going to set the television on.

You’re mocking him, voice still full of sleep, leaving the taller man to chuckle to himself as he heads into the kitchen, searching the fridge around the corner to ponder over what he can whip up. There’s plenty of possibilities as Luca’s eyes scan over what’s stocked in the fridge, finding that’s something he had to do now that you both shared a home together.

He could do cold smoked salmon…putting the protein to good use along with the radish and watercress…yet you were out of cream cheese. He could always ask his favorite critic, brace yourselves, it’s not Luca himself but rather you, what you were feeling like for breakfast but he knew regardless what he prepared you’d probably eat.

Thinking to himself, fingers tapping against the handle of the open fridge, he decides to go for something simple and more festive if you will. So he decides on homemade maple pancakes, without the walnuts since you were allergic and picks the pecans that your grandfather brought over from his pecan tree back in Georgia earlier this year. He’ll fry up some danish bacon with thyme searing the pan—hoping to bring flavor to the pork—or really to basically get rid of it, although it was a kind gesture from a neighbor who learned Luca was in the culinary field—the both of you were not the biggest fans of Denmark’s bacon.

No disrespect of course.

“Hey, want some of this Risalamande?” Luca calls out as you began to get engaged into the film, that’s probably been on for about twenty minutes since Luca takes more time debating on what to eat at home than when he’s out in the city.

Immediately your nose scrunches up as Luca is diving into the colorful rice pudding, leaning against the doorway that leads to the living room and front of the detached home, “Texture, Luca. Come on!”

Luca snorts with a slight roll of his eyes, “Ah, I see I’m getting picky you this morning, yeah?”

A wag of your finger as if it were a wand goes shooting into the air while you respond, “Sssh!”

“Rude.”

Luca spins back into the kitchen with a shake of his head, downing what most would consider a Christmas dessert but he doesn’t care one bit. He’s a man that enjoys eating and Christmas was more of his holiday anyway.

That holds him over long enough and he’s got the comfort of him whisking the dry ingredients together, focus steady on getting just the right mixture before moving onto the wet ingredients. It’s easy work really, which means Luca doesn’t mind making breakfast more than any other meal. It was similar to his own work, yet pastries were more his speed and he often challenged himself to try out new techniques majority of the time, so it wouldn’t always be easy but it was the pleasure in knowing that this is the starting point of your day, which beats a protein bar any way.

Luca uses his hands everyday and yeah it so happened to surprisingly be his weekend off, he didn’t mind keeping his hands busy when it came to breakfast and serving to the person he truly adores.

He’s at the stove, with minutes passing by at ease, his arched brows raising so often when the tempo of the movie begins to picks up. “What are you watching?”

He can’t help but to ask.

“…The Evil Dead, 1981.” He’s shocked he even gets a response from you since you tend to zone out when it comes to media.

Sometimes it was certainly a bad habit. You were an environmental documentary editor so it wasn’t unusual for you to get wrapped up in screens. Yet Luca couldn’t really blame you for that since he got lost in his craft as well; the both of you were working to get better with turning those habits off when together.

…if you don’t count right now that is! There was nothing wrong with being passionate about your interests but it was also always important to prioritize your partner, especially when work was a good chunk of your lives, yet it wasn’t the only thing that mattered. The both of you understood that.

He hums, finding possession films and gory themes weren’t really his thing. He actually has a weak system when it came to those type of horror films or rather blood (passing out from the mere sight fake or not or simply the stench of it is not something Luca was proud to admit) and let’s just say he was glad to not be in the room with you now. Horror really wasn’t your lane either, you were more into sci-fi films whereas Luca loved a good action film or documentary.

You were both each others test subjects, you with his food and him with your edits on your hybrid schedule.

“Come eat,” Luca says after while, the food steaming and filling the house with a sweet, salty and slightly earthy aroma.

He’s wiping his hands off with a rag, which he steps to the center of the kitchen, balling up the used rag to toss with a swift flick of the wrist into the laundry room up ahead. The rag plunks right on the washer and Luca smirks to himself before heading back to the dining table tucked in the corner by the oven. He always sits with his back to the oven because in a sense it’s brings him placidness. It didn’t make much sense to you since you originally thought Luca just wanted the view of the screened in conservatory all to himself but he flirted that you were enough of a view for him. Nonetheless he didn’t really need to explain it to you, if that’s the spot Luca wanted then so be it. You rarely argued about it simply because you could eat out there if you really wanted. He could keep the meaning of sitting with his back to the oven to himself. Perhaps it was his way of putting it behind him for awhile when engaged with you? Who truly knows but you did think about it a bit once you settled into the shared home.

Luca’s pulling himself up to the table, picking up a fork to start plating and clenched his eyes as more screams fill the home.

“I really appreciate that you’re getting into the Halloween spirit, but it’s ten in the morning, please turn off the slasher film so I can eat my breakfast in peace.” Luca calls out to you, after picking up that you were in a lazy mood and not ready to join him at the table.

The film actually gets lower as Luca shoves the pancake into his mouth, beginning to chew the meal as you say back, “pumpkin spiced latte, please.”

Luca questions with his mouth full, “what was that?”

“I’ll join you if there’s a pumpkin spiced latte waiting for me.”

Luca sits back in his chair and swallows, “you don’t even enjoy pumpkin so what are you on about?”

“But it’s fall, Luca.”

Luca pinches the space in between his skinny brows, “…for fucks sake, you’re quite spoiled you know that?”

“I love you.” You sing out while Luca scoffs.

He comments, “You better.”

So now he’s up on his feet again, messing with the olive espresso machine that you still won’t tell him how much you paid for last Christmas, he’ll use the last bit of maple syrup that he had leftover from the pancakes, there’s no pumpkin spice in the flat since he isn’t a big fan of pumpkin flavor either so he uses: 2 teaspoons cinnamon, 1/8 teaspoon nutmeg, 1/8 teaspoon ginger, and 1/8 teaspoon of ground cloves, yet he brought home some pumpkin purée that one of his fall-loving co-workers gave to him; homemade from her mini pumpkin patch in her backyard, he steams the oat milk, mixes the espresso, puree, syrup, spices, and vanilla all together before combining it with the milk. From there he frothed it just for a few seconds to get some foam and finally tops it off with whipped cream and more cinnamon.

Sitting back down, he slides the drink over to your side of the table and before he can call out to you to inform it’s ready, he’s hearing the shuffle of your feet in those ridiculous hot pink fluffy slippers. Luca glances at you and finds you rather cute still in your cozy pj’s and hair a complete mess.

“Your royalty,” Luca bows towards your drink, making you gasp playfully as you approach him, placing a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, “it’s still hot,” he warns as you reach over for the handle of the mug at the same time but you pick it up with ease.

You peek at the latte and then back at him saying, “Shoo,” you wave your hand making Luca frown up at you.

You and these damn hand movements, you should be a conductor like your older sibling instead.

He soon picks up on what else you want, making yourself comfortable right in his lap, making Luca shake his head at you, tangling around you now so he can finish the breakfast but with you in his lap.

You on the other hand werent much of a breakfast person, although you loved a good brunch moment with your mates! but you hardly turned down much of what Luca prepared. He knew you’d get around to the pancakes if you didn’t start picking at his own plate soon.

“How is it?”

You nod, running your tongue over the top of your lip to get rid of the whipped cream, “hmm, now I kinda see what those pumpkin bitches go crazy over.”

Luca chuckles, “do I get to sample?”

“It’s the least I can do,” you tease as you blow on the steam before tipping the mug towards Luca’s lips.

He ends up blowing on it more before sipping and it’s your turn to watch his own opinion before he says it. You can always tell what direction this may go based on the way his eyebrows and eyes move.

“Not half bad if I do say so myself but a smoked butterscotch latte from Café bønne is actually better. I frankly don’t see the hype with this latte.” Luca shrugged with a pinch of his lips in thought before turning his hand back to the bacon.

You groan, “we haven’t been there in ages! We should go there today.”

“Nope, storms coming in this afternoon actually with a chance of power outages which is why you should eat those pancakes sooner than later, love.” Luca explains before adding, “should have gone running with me this morning. I passed by that route today too.” Luca tells you while you take another sip of the latte.

You weren’t aware of any storm coming in but you had to admit that you fell asleep on the news last night after the show you stayed up to watch with Luca went off. It really amazes you how he can stay up late and get up to function the next day. You on the other hand? Had to follow a routine or else you’ll be no good at work, hybrid schedule or not.

“Fine, I guess the shitty pumpkin makes up for it.”

Luca peeks at you mid chew, “Are you insulting my beverage when you asked for it?”

“Never! This definitely gets a 8.5 across the board. So I’ll shut my spoiled self up, babes.”

“Now that’s the spirit.”

A shove to his shoulder makes Luca wink and grin over at you, poking his lips out for a peck, making you aware that he was only teasing you.

Sighing you lean forward to press your lips against his in a chaste kiss, “thanks for breakfast.”

With his free tatted hand, he runs the pad of his thumb against the childhood scar on your kneecap stating with a smile, “anytime, darling.” He says as he peers at you from underneath his eyelashes before tossing in, “Even when you’re being a picky pain in my arse.”

“Welp! Moment’s ruined.” You hopped off Luca’s lap while he tried to latch onto you with a laugh but you swung your hips out of his reach, however not without plunking up his last pancake to take with you.

See!

Luca huffs, sticking his tongue into the side of his cheek before taking your plate with him to follow you into the living room. You’re seated back on the couch and he sits on the opposite end of it, tangling his limbs with yours as you cover each other with the blankets.

“This pancake is delicious.”

“So are yours,” Luca is smug as he eats from your plate now before glancing at the horror film on screen with disgust, then softening his expression as he sets his eyes back on you.

Which leads to the both of you taking turns eating pancakes and sharing the pumpkin latte, making the feel of autumn in the atmosphere sink in with the warmth of each other.

Hours later…you’re laying cuddled up to Luca’s chest on the couch, the rhythm of his chest rising and falling along with his hands clasped together against the small of your back is enough to almost put you to sleep. The wind has picked up now, whistling through the cloudy skies of Copenhagen followed by a harsh patter of rain that can be heard from the ceiling of the living room.

Which is just enough remedy for the both of you while you rest until you suddenly ask, “what did you think of the evil dead?”

Luca almost grimaces before he states, “…I prefer midsommar.”

“I want to debunk that with you but I also want to go back to sleep.”

Luca laughs before nuzzling his cheek against your head, “Fine by me, we have time to get into it later.”

“Over pancakes?”

“Breakfast for dinner? As long as you promise to actually sit at the table with me?”

“There’s no place I’d rather be…and I also want to hear your thoughts on that film. A true Mukbang starring us two, can’t get any better than that, no?”

A smile curls onto Luca’s lips at your excitement, then he speaks, “who’s the audience then?”

“The entities that maybe lurking around this house.”

Luca pops a eye open, “I really don’t like how you just said that. Especially after you had me watching that horrid fucking film.”

“Hey! A lot of horror lovers will definitely drag you for that but don’t worry, I’ll fight anything and anyone that dares to step to my man and that’s on what?”

Luca shakes his head while pretending to think about it, “period? Or whatever it is you say. You’re still a brat for saying that though. I don’t know if you notice but Halloween isn’t until the end of the month.”

“I’m sorry,” you coo squeezing his shoulder, “but Halloween starts as soon as September hits and don’t you forget it you big baby.” You curl your hand from around Luca’s shoulder to squeeze his cheeks together.

“You’re the…baby.” Luca mimics, his cheeks now appearing like a gapping fish due to your actions, “Taking thirty naps a day and being a massive pain in my bum.”

“NAURR,” you exaggerate making Luca lift his brows in annoyance before you continue, “I’m your favorite headache.”

Luca let’s out a sigh, “you’re not wrong.”

“I never am,” you sass before the room goes quiet a bit more—besides the weather outside until you voice your thoughts out loud, “Midsommar though? Really? I wouldn’t put that and Evil Dead in the same category.”

Now it was Luca’s turn to shush you.

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧ ⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧ ⛧°

Continue along with my October anthology prompts here.

[talonabraxas]

Brigit, Druid Goddess Brigit is a ‘pan Celtic’ goddess, who was worshipped by both the Goidelic and Brythonic Celts in the British Isles and beyond. She is a solar deity, who once hung her mantle on a sunbeam. In Celtic mythology, Brigit is the daughter of the Morrighan and the Dagda, the Good God and Chief of the Tuatha de Danaan, the ancient fairy race of Ireland, and the sister of Ogma, who invented the Ogham alphabet. She was the wife of Bres, King of the Fomorians (who were at war with the Tuatha de Danaan). Brigit was said to have been the mediator of peace between the two ancient warring tribes. She was the mother of the Three Gods of Danu – Ruadan, Iuchar and Uar. These three Gods were said to have married the three princesses of Ireland – Eire, Fodhla and Banbha. In other sources, Brigid is the daughter of Boann, the Goddess of the River Boyne in Ireland. Boann (bo fhionn) means ‘white cow’, an association she shares with Brigid. Brigit is primarily the patron Goddess of poets, healers and smiths. She is also a patron of other womanly arts – midwifery, dyeing, weaving and brewing, and the guardian of children and farm animals – particularly cows. The island of Ireland itself is said to be the green mantle of Brigit. She is also said to be the patron of travellers, sailors, and fugitives. She is specifically a patroness to the Druids in her aspects of poetry (Bards), healing and prophecy (Ovates) and blacksmithing (Druids).

[soft-girl-musings]

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps - CHAPTER 5 (Something's Gotta Give)

Noir!Jake Lockley x WOC Lounge Singer!Reader

written in collaboration with + header by @mrs-lockley

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4

cross-posted to ao3

tags: late 1940s Noir AU, Reader is WOC coded but with no physical description besides being slightly taller than Jake while wearing heels, no use of Y/N, brief mention of past injury, spanish translation at end (courtesy of @queerponcho, thank you beloved)

wc: 3.4k

fic summary: Of all the gin joints in all the world, Jake Lockley walks into yours. Unfortunately for him, it's not quite the start of a beautiful friendship.

chapter summary: immovable object? the unstoppable force would like a word.

__________

As far as peace offerings go, it’s not the worst.

At least, that’s what you’ve told yourself as you stand outside your neighbor’s apartment, your fist failing to close the distance and knock. In one hand you hold a plate of pastries you’d bought earlier. Hopefully it’s enough.

Before you can raise your hand again, the door whips open. 

Leah Mendoza, ever the force to be reckoned with, stands with arms akimbo and eyebrow raised. “Quit shuffling your feet and come inside, nena.”

You oblige wordlessly. Crossing the threshold, you immediately feel the warmth of her apartment embrace you. Not that she’s escaped the chill that plagues your building; Leah is an artist, and every flat surface serves as either canvas or easel. Most spaces are covered in surreal portraits and near-magical icons, her handiwork displayed as a gorgeously chaotic gallery. Sunlight streams through gauzy curtains to feed sprawling plants and attempts to warm the richly colored rug beneath your feet.

You leave your shoes at the door and hold out the platter, smiling sheepishly. “Hope you still have a sweet tooth.”

“It's been so long, I'm surprised you remember.” Despite her playfully icy tone, Leah’s expression warms as she peeks at the pan de mallorca you hand over.

“...But I suppose going five blocks out of your way for breakfast makes up for it.” She nudges you with her hip before escorting  you to the kitchen.

“Look what the cat dragged in, Caro,” Leah calls out to the seating area as she pours two mugs of coffee. You see your other friend’s smiling eyes light up at the sight of you.

“Ohhh, it’s been ages!” she squeals as she rushes to your side, tackling you with an enthusiastic hug.

Caroline Ngo, the youngest of your trio, has always brought a much-needed energy to your time together. When she and her parents moved in, you and Leah decided to adopt her into your early morning ritual of coffee and gossip. As her rosy cheeks beam up at you, you’re (a bit selfishly) grateful that she’s delayed her college applications by a year. You’re not ready to part with your other baby bird just yet.

Still, you pry yourself from her grasp. “Something tells me you had an early start on the coffee.”

“Maybe,” she drawls as she saunters away. Leah passes you a steaming mug, prepared just the way you like it.

The three of you sit, sipping and smiling as the room grows brighter with the sunrise. Leah regales you with the results of her latest art show; Caroline badgers you for updates about Mauricio, dimpled cheeks flushed as she speaks. For a few moments, everything feels like it used to.

Leah finishes her pastry and turns to you. “So, ‘Ms. Songbird’. How are you?”

You shrug, dismissive. “Oh, you know. The usual.”

“No, I don’t know. You haven't been around for us to see your ‘usual’.” Leah's voice is measured, but she’s clearly frustrated. “Can you tell me the last time we've heard more than a ‘good morning’ from you? Or were together for longer than an elevator ride to our floor?”

You chuckle nervously. “Goodness, maybe… August? September?”

“June.” She sips her coffee before setting it down. “Are things really so busy at work that you can't spare a moment for us anymore?”

If only you knew.

“I'm sorry, ladies. Truly. But things have been picking up at the lounge, I've even had to get outside help–”

“Ah yes, the altar boy lawyer.” Leah shakes her head. “I thought you were done with him.”

“‘Done with him?’ Leah, he's my friend.”

“Oh, I recall. So good a friend that he lets you ice his bruises and clean his cuts.” She crosses her arms. “So good, he's even bringing new friends with the same scrapes to your door.”

“The other night was an emergency–”

“How long are you going to run around with that kind of crowd?” Her voice bites. “Believe me, I know my share of the nightlife. But every time you bring home some broken man, a load of trouble seems to follow.”

This is not where you saw the morning going. “I thought we were spending time together, not berating the company I keep.”

“Please don't be upset,” Caroline pleads, taking your hand from her seat on the floor. “We miss you. You haven’t been home in weeks,” she laments. “At least, not for more than a couple of hours.”

You shift in your seat but give her hand a light squeeze. “I've missed you, too.”

“Then do something about it.” Leah gets up, crossing the room to distract herself with more coffee but then doubles back to look you in the eyes.

“You know my gut is never wrong, nena. And I wouldn't be a good friend if I didn't speak my mind.”

You brace yourself as she continues. “You can spend your nights hiding behind your Songbird persona and running the lounge, but don't be surprised if the cage you're building around yourself is locked from the inside.”

With that, she turns on her heel and heads back to the kitchen, leaving you and Caroline in silence.

Slowly, Caroline slides into Leah’s empty seat, her hand still on yours.

“... I always liked your stage name.”

You don’t say anything, instead letting your eyes trail through the patterns on the rug.

She scoots closer. “Leah’s just looking out for you. Like always.”

“I know, Caro.”

You feel her head rest on your shoulder. Tough love has always been Leah’s strong suit; as hard as you are on your boys, it’s bush league compared to your friend.

Caroline’s next words are low, whispered just loud enough for you to hear. “I know that man you were helping.”

You look down at her, dumbfounded. “Really? You know Jake?”

She sits up, eyes wide again. “Well, not technically. I never learned his name. But when he was leaving your apartment, I recognized his face.” Her small smile grows as she speaks. “There were days I’d stay out late after school, and I’d catch a ride from him sometimes. He’s really kind, not like some of the other cab drivers.”

Concern suddenly sweeps across her face. “Is he going to be alright?”

You think back to the morning he left your apartment: his bruises, your stitches, the blood that still stained his coat…

His hand on your hand, your face…

You don’t feel your fingers grazing the apple of your cheek until you hear Caroline giggle. Your hand drops to your lap as your face warms. “He’ll be fine. If he wised up and saw a real doctor, that is.” You shrug, reaching for your coffee.

“You care about him,” she teases.

“Oh, come off it,” you huff, nudging her leg with yours.

“And he obviously cares about you!” She squeals, lowering her voice when Leah turns her head toward the noise. “I saw him leave your apartment, but he stood there for ages, staring at your door.” Her grip on your hand grows unbearably tight. “What happened that night?”

You’ve been asking yourself the same question from the moment he left you standing in a bloodstained gown, your apartment colder without him. Since then, there hasn’t been a moment where you’ve been free from the memory of his face.

“I did him a favor. And… he may have done one for me, too.”

__________

Jake Lockley is man enough to admit when he’s been beaten.

In this case, he's absolutely won over. Head-over-heels, and at your mercy.

Maybe years from now, society adopts stricter rules for how soon you should call on a lady. Even today, some would advise against showing your hand too early. Some men wouldn’t want to seem too eager, too desperate.

But Jake Lockley is not a liar.

If “desperate” is the word for the incessant drumming in his chest each time you come to mind; if it’s what has him cutting corners and driving recklessly, ushering customers along at double the pace so his thoughts can return to you; if it’s why his palms sweat and nerves ache at the memory of your face that night, that morning… then Jake Lockley is desperate.

It’s hardly been a day and a half since he left your apartment, cold and injured. The suit stitched him back together in seconds; the only ache that remained was at the thought of you. You, who scooped him off the pavement and took pity on him. Who stained your hands with his blood to make it stop. You, who set his skin on fire with the smallest touch and had him convinced he would burn with or without it.

Screw the three day rule. He has to see you.

Hot under the collar, Jake now sits at the bar– your bar, long before normal business hours. Next to him is Matt, whose face hasn’t untwisted from the wry grin he’s had from the moment they met up.

“It’s like a jackhammer,” he chuckles into his glass, dodging Jake’s backhand swing.

“Can it, Murdock.” Jake’s hand returns to his own drink. Downing the rest, he raises his glass to the bartender. “Top me off, Mr. Manalo.”

Teddy obliges with shaking hands. He scoops up the bills Jake slides his way before dashing off. The two men had asked for privacy, and he’s determined to stay in their good graces.

Jake knocks back the new drink, swiping the excess from his lip as Matt’s laughter grows louder.

“You really need to calm down.”

“That’s what this was for,” Jake retorts, shaking his glass so the ice clinks against the edge. It’s doing him little good, though; from the moment he snuck in here that stormy night, he knew The Paper Moon as an extension of you. Even with the house lights up and nobody onstage, the lounge makes his heart race as quickly as if you were right beside him.

Matt claps a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be alright, you’ve been through worse.”

“Yeah,” Jake snorts. Matt’s quiet for a suspicious amount of time. “What’s on your mind, Murdock?”

“What’s on yours?” Telltale concern creeps into his voice. “How are things up there lately?”

Jake smirks, the expression not reaching his eyes. “Oh, you know. Loud… and quiet, in all the wrong ways.”

“Seems quieter than before.”

“Yeah?” Jake cocks an eyebrow. His mind doesn’t feel quieter, not the way it should. Khonshu’s been on his ass more often, doubling down when his thoughts dare to drift to anything besides the mission at hand. The god throwing a tantrum has become one of the few guarantees that remain.

“I mean it,” Matt reassures him. “It’s like night and day from when you returned stateside.” 

Jake stirs the ice in his glass, tempted to hop the counter and refill it himself. It takes everything in him to repress the memory of “before,” to not think of the bloody business in El-Alamein. To forget when the occupancy of his mind dropped from three to two.

“Must be the good old American soil.” His sneer drops as he considers his next words. “... or the fool of a pro bono lawyer I managed to snag.”

“Maybe,” Matt says. “Or it could be the little bird that's caught your ear.”

Before Jake can respond, a pair of footsteps cross onto the stage behind them.

He turns to see you and Mauricio, backs to the house, talking in rushed succession as you survey the stage. You’re in a blouse and trousers, your movements easy and unrehearsed despite the growing exasperation in your voice. 

“Maurie, I don't care how Leo feels the lights bounces off his new mustache wax, unless he can't follow my cues he's staying stage left. And–”

“No days off for you, are there?”

When you turn you see Jake, hat in hand and standing a few steps from the bar, as if he’d walked toward you but stopped halfway up the aisle. You can’t place the look on his face, but you're nevertheless pinned under the gaze of his now-healed eyes shining up at you.

“JAKE!” Mauricio startles you when he shouts, leaping off the stage to clasp hands with the older man.

“Hermano,” Jake chuckles, pulling him into a quick hug before letting go. “¿No te andas metiendo en problemas, eh?” 

“¿Parece que tu eres el que anda causando problemas, ey botero? ¿De dónde salió esa cicatriz?" Mauricio leans in, examining the pale line running through Jake’s eyebrow with awe.     

“Ah, just a scratch.” Jake shrugs as he brushes past him to approach the stage and offers his hand as you step down. You accept, hoping he doesn’t notice the slight tremor in your grasp.

“Leave the man alone, Maurie,” you chide, nodding your thanks and holding back a laugh. As much as Caroline fawns over you, Mauricio seems to do the same to Jake whenever their paths cross. It helps that he plays along.

As the three of you walk back to the bar, you notice Matt dial in to something and smile– far from his normal reaction. 

“I’m afraid I can’t offer you more than another drink, I have an appointment with Matthew this afternoon.” You cross over to your friend, whose smile only grows as you draw closer. But you brush it off, still focused on Jake.

“Actually,” he starts, his hand sliding into his pocket, “I was hoping to cut in on your consult time for a moment. That alright with you, doll?”

Matt clears his throat. “Mauricio, can you take me backstage? I should start unpacking this file.”

The drummer perks up. “Sure! But the band’s getting ready to play some poker… you feel like teaming up again? We can split the pot like usual.”

“Even better,” Matt grins. “Lead on.”

He gathers his portfolio and walking stick to follow. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear you could see a moment of panic flicker across Jake’s face.

It’s replaced in a flash with his usual smirk. “Sure you want to risk your pocket change, Matty?”

“If all my clients paid like you do, I'd be out of a job.” He collects himself and follows Mauricio’s footsteps, turning to Jake and mouthing “jackhammer” with a hand to his chest when he’s behind you.

Their footfalls fade and it’s just the two of you at the bar. You take a seat, drumming your fingers on the surface to soothe your nerves. Jake sits beside you.

“You look better.” You notice the scar Maurie was talking about: his former head wound is free of your haphazard stitches, instead healed into a light dash through his dark brow. “But I told you that would scar.”

He shakes his head, brushing his fingers past the spot. “I kinda like it. Gives me an edge,” he chuckles. Maybe Khonshu hadn’t healed his face the way he normally would as some sort of lesson. Joke’s on him.

“How did… I mean, you look really good, how did you recover so quickly?” Now that you’re closer, you realize there’s no sign he was hurt just two days ago. If not for his scar, you could pass that night off as some sort of dream.

“You told me to see a doctor, didn’t you? Looks like I’ve got the best one around.” 

You eye him, not sure what to think. “... yeah, alright.”

Your fingers drum the bar again. Maybe that night knocked all of Jake’s suave confidence from his head: when he’s not speaking (something you’re still not used to), he looks like a child about to lose his lunch. For all his urgency a few minutes ago, he’s taking his sweet time getting to the point.

Finally he sits up straight and takes something out of his pocket. “Here. For you, morena.”

A small black box slides toward you, stopping at your restless fingers. You raise an eyebrow quizzically, a familiar warmth spreading across your cheeks.

“A present? Didn’t take you for the ‘holly-jolly’ type.” You pick up the box, feeling its velvet casing and fighting back a smile.

“Nah, not really a Christmas guy myself. But I figured you could use a pick-me-up.” Jake crosses one arm along the bar, propping his chin in his other hand as he watches you open the box.

Inside, you see a delicate gold chain with a charm fastened to its middle: a small bird with its wings spread, intricate designs etched into its surface.

“Oh my…” You look back at Jake, who seems to have been holding his breath as you examine your gift. 

Your slowly unfolding smile is all the reward he could ask for, breathless laughter pushed from his chest with relief. “For the songbird,” he casually declares, relief mixing with pride at your reaction.

You take the necklace out and hold it to the light. “It’s beautiful,” you sigh. You undo the clasp and try to put it on yourself, but your fingers can’t seem to make it fasten.

“Allow me,” he says quickly, standing to move behind you and assist.

You feel his hands take over and drop your own in your lap. His knuckles brush the back of your neck and it takes everything in you not to shiver. The smell of smoke and spice dances on your senses, pulled away all too soon when he moves to stand in front of you.

“There,” he breathes, eyes going from the pendant draped below your collar to your eyes. “Looks perfect.”

Your fingers grasp the cool metal as you nod. “Looks perfect.” 

Silence falls again. You’ve come to hate the sound of nothing when you’re with him.

Jake’s the first to break it. He sits back down, his next words like a punch to the gut. “You know, now that I’m not driving Wesley around… I won’t have to take up space at your back table anymore.”

“Oh. No, I suppose not.” You toy with the charm around your neck. “So is this… goodbye?”

“That depends,” he says cautiously.  He turns to you, eyes swimming with the same unfamiliar mix of emotions from before. “Do you want it to be?”

Your fingers leave your neck as you meet his gaze. “Don't say you're going all soft on me, cabbie.”

“What if I was?” He leans forward, and for the first time you don't back away.

“Cards on the table: I haven't stopped thinking about you.”

That makes two of us. You bite your tongue to let him continue.

“Morena… would you ever want to get out of here? Just you and me, call it a truce or a… a date.” A smile plays on his lips before his brow creases. “I won't badger you after today, just… one way or another, put me out of my misery.”

The wings of the charm feel heavier with the weight of his confession. Hand to your heart, you feel the bird again, this time with Leah's warning running through your mind.

“I suppose a truce wouldn't hurt.”

When he smiles, wider than ever, you see the charming gap in his teeth. And you smile, too.  You both laugh, the heated stress in your nerves turning to effervescent relief.

You could spend an hour like this. But when you hear shouts of frustration and a bilingual litany of choice words echo from backstage, you know you have to go put out a different fire.

“I should make sure Matthew isn't in trouble,” you sigh, standing to straighten yourself.

“If I know Matt, he's the one causing the trouble.” Jake stands with you, desperate for this moment not to end but anxious for your next answer. “So when can we–”

“Sunday night,” you cut him off, starting to back away toward the stage. “I'll figure out how to slip away, but meet me under the sign at 9.”

You move to rush toward the stage at another outburst, but Jake's hand catches yours yet again.

“You can't keep doing that,” you groan, yet with a smile still on your lips as he tugs you back toward him.

“You're the boss,” he hums, pressing his lips to the back of your hand– the gesture all too routine, but you're ready to admit you've missed it.

He releases your hand and dons his cap, tipping it to you. You laugh again, a rich and easy sound he'd never tire of hearing. You bow slightly and dash backstage, with Jake's voice calling to you as you leave.

“See you Sunday, Songbird."

__________

“¿No te andas metiendo en problemas, eh?” - Not getting yourself into any problems, eh?

“¿Parece que tu eres el que anda causando problemas, ey botero? ¿De dónde salió esa cicatriz?" - Seems like you’re the one causing troubles, hey cabbie? Where did that scar come from?

note: in-universe Jake is Guatemalan and Mauricio is Cuban; as a non-spanish speaker, please let me know how i can improve in the future!

A/N: i've missed these two!! this chapter was a doozy but i'm so happy to have gotten back on track. i won't say PPP is on hiatus (we never had a promised release schedule) but after i take a wee break from writing, i'm set on finishing my Moon Knight Bingo prompts before 4/30 + starting on my OI fanzine entries (!!! exciting times). but if inspiration strikes before i finish, i certainly won't complain.

ty for reading!!

tag list: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @mercurysjoy, @importantnightwerewolf, @cupidysm, @queerponcho, @nerdieforpedro, @fandxmslxt69, @shadystarlightgentlemen, @lunar-ghoulie, @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

[spanishskulduggery]

Hi there! I’m learning Spanish and was wondering what are some common idioms or unique ones that a beginner would find useful? Thank you for all your efforts with this blog

Here are some very standard idioms that probably everyone should know:

llover a cántaros = "to rain cats and dogs" [lit. "to rain by the pitcher"]

¿Quién te ha dado vela en este entierro? = "Who asked you?" / "This has nothing to do with you." / "No one asked for your opinion." [lit. "Who gave you a candle in this burial?"]

Perro que ladra no muere. / Ladra pero no muere. = "All bark and no bite." [lit. "a dog that barks doesn't bite"]

entre la espada y la pared = "between a rock and a hard place" [lit. "between the sword and the wall"]

valer un ojo de la cara = "to cost an arm and a leg" [lit. "to cost an eye from the face"]

la media naranja = "soulmate" [lit. "half an orange"; some funny things will also show an orange sock because la media in some countries means "sock", so you might see jokes about finding your media naranja but with a sock]

el pez gordo = "the boss", "the big cheese" [lit. "the fat fish"]

la flor y nata = "the best and brightest" [lit. "the flower and cream"]

pan comido = "easy as pie/cake" [lit. "eaten bread"]

estar en paz = "to be even", to not be in debt [lit. "to be at peace"]

ser un sol = to be a delight, to be very nice [lit. "to be a sun"; I was also told that you can also make it even nicer as ser un sol de primavera "to be a spring sun"]

de brazos cruzados = "without doing anything", "just standing around doing nothing", "sitting back, doing nothing" [lit. "with arms crossed"; it generally gets used when someone could do something or could help, but they're doing nothing... it's often used as quedarse de brazos cruzados which is literally "to remain with arms crossed" or "to sit back and do nothing"]

dar en el clavo = "to hit the nail on the head" [lit. "to strike on the nail"]

valer la pena = "to be worth the effort" [lit. "to be worth the sorrow/pain"]

meter la pata = "to screw up", "to mess up" [lit. "to stick one's foot (in something)"]

la gota que colmó el vaso = "the straw that broke the camel's back" [lit. "the drop that overflowed the glass"]

el príncipe azul = "knight in shining armor" [lit. "blue prince"]

tomar el pelo = "to pull someone's leg", "to tease someone" [lit. "to take/grab the hair"]

con las manos en la masa = "red-handed", "with (someone's) hands in the cookie jar" [lit. "with hands in the dough"]

más a gusto que un arbusto = "happy as a clam" [lit. "more in their pleasure than a shrub"; can also be "snug as a bug in a rug"]

al pie de la letra = "to a T", "to the letter", "exactly" [lit. "to the foot of the letter"]

de pies a cabeza = "head to toe", "through and through" [lit. "from feet to head"]

ahogarse en un vaso de agua = "to make a mountain out of a molehill", to worry about things that don't matter [lit. "to drown in a glass of water"]

I would also add this one which is more slang than anything, but it's very common in many countries to refer to money as (la) plata which is literally "silver". The other one is (la) lana which is "wool"

So, instead of (el) dinero you can sometimes hear people calling "money" or "cash", plata or lana depending on the country. Of course there are other terms, but these are probably the most recognizable ones

[otakusparkle]

Autumn means appetite! Halloween! Decide who will come out on top with food costume! 🍬

Sweets and bread... The ending chosen by the head judge is...! We are looking forward to your visit!

Illustration by rkakr (Twitter)

(Read from right to left)

Ripper, The gingerbread : Autumn means appetite! Autumn means Halloween! So, who was the most deliciously dressed?

Psychologist, The spidercandy : Of course it must be sweets after all!

Patient, The ghost marshmallow : Double the sweetness as a couple!

Prospector, The burrito : Sweet, huh... (Only sweets)

Embalmer, The pan de muerto : *Nodding* On second thought, I think staple foods should be taken care of as well

Ripper, The gingerbread : What do you think, Mr. Judge?

Wick : Woof! (Everything is delicious!)

Ripper, The gingerbread : Such a peaceful solutions! Thank you so much!

Postman, The sweet pumpkin : *Smile*

[this-is-what-makes-us-fandoms]

In Darkness There Is Light || Across the Spider-Verse ||

Remember when you’re lost in the darkness. Look for the light.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Warnings: mentions of death of a loved one, female reader (sorry guys, i’ll make male related content if anyone asks for!)

Words: 1.2K

A/N: Tiktok back at it again with the inspiration 🤧 Hope you guys enjoyed this and let me know if you want more.

Miguel was shrouded in darkness as he sat in his office, the only light coming from the screen in front of him. He was rewatching old footage, happier times before his daughter was ripped away from him. The images on the screen were of her last birthday before the universe collapsed. Gabriella was laughing at him, his face covered in frosting after she managed to trick into being the one whose face was pushed in the cake. He was laughing too, wiping away some of the frosting off his face and smearing it over her nose. He remembered that so well.

“You got me good, Gabi,” he said, letting out a small laugh with her. “But now we match.”

She laughed again and kissed her dad on the cheek, not caring if more frosting got on her.

The screen went black right after, leaving Miguel to sit in complete darkness. He didn’t care, shoulders slumped with a sullen look on his face. He didn’t have the energy to play another clip, already feeling too numb to do so. So he just sat there in silence. He didn’t even move when he heard someone step in, nor when a familiar scent filled his nose.

You walked through the dark room, your enhanced vision letting you see through as you searched for Miguel. You weren’t surprised to find him shrouded in darkness, it was basically his natural habitat. You also knew what he did here. Holing himself up and rewatching videos of the other life he once had. Sometimes he would coop himself up in here for days without any of you hearing from him.

During those times you made sure to check up on him, bringing him something to eat. It's what you were doing now, gripping the bag of food firmly in your hand. You found him sitting in front of his cyberdesk, staring blankly at nothing. You could only assume he had been watching videos again.

“Miguel,” you called out gently. “I brought you something to eat.”

He didn’t answer and you sighed, approaching him further. “You’ve been in here all day. You should eat something.”

“I’m not hungry,” he finally answered.

“Hungry or not, you still need food in your system. I brought you sopa de albondigas,” you said, a slight accent in your words. “I think I said that right… I figured something light would suffice.”

“Keep it. I said I’m not hungry,” he argued.

You sighed and set the bag down beside him. “Miguel…”

“I told you I’m not hungry. Leave me alone, I have important things to do.”

He turned to look at you, harsh glare on his face and voice raising some. He could yell at you all he wanted, you weren’t budging. “Please… eat something and talk to me.”

He stayed silent, looking back ahead and making you sigh heavily as you took a seat next to him. You reached your hand out and grabbed onto his, finding no reaction from him. You held his large hand in both of yours, finding it amazing how one hand of his equated to both of yours. You both had the same abilities, same strength that came with it yet he was significantly so much bigger. Miguel shocked you when he grabbed one of your hands, fingers lacing with yours. You smiled to yourself, gently squeezing his hand as the two of you sat in silence. It was almost peaceful, as if this is what he needed from you.

You couldn’t just sit in silence and after a moment, you spoke. “Have I ever told you how I lost my brother?”

He didn’t say anything but the shake of his head told you to continue. “It was just after I got bitten by the spider. I couldn’t have been Spider-Woman for more than 3-4 months. My brother, he was a detective, you can guess how that panned out.”

“My brother, he was all I had after our parents died. He practically raised me. I loved him, I admired him, I wanted to be a hero just like him. So when I got bit, I took it as a sign that I was meant to be just like him, even if he didn’t want me anywhere near police work.”

You paused for a moment, looking down at the tangled hands in your lap. You hadn’t noticed that your thumb was brushing over the back of Miguel’s. You knew it was meant to soothe you instead of him.

“Living with a detective made it easy to be Spider-Woman, everything he knew about a case so did I. One day I was tracking down a criminal organization that he had information on, I didn’t know he was doing the same… alone. My idiot brother thought he could take them down alone so he didn’t call for backup. He was wrong.”

You paused again, blinking rapidly to clear away any tears that threatened to spill. It's been years now since your brother died, but his death still weighed heavily on you. You never talked about it but this was a special case. You wanted Miguel to know that you knew what he was going through.

“Seeing him there, where he wasn’t supposed to be, I got distracted. My senses went all haywire that I didn’t… I didn’t see the bullet from one of the members. They got away and my brother was left bleeding out. He… He died in my arms, I couldn’t do anything to stop the blood.”

You took a deep breath, calming your nerves down and your tears. You felt Miguel squeeze your hand, this time it was him who was providing you comfort. You looked at him, his red eyes staring into yours, his eyes telling you how sorry he was. You gave him a smile, one to tell him that you were okay and continued.

“I gave up being who I am for sometime after that. It was too hard being a hero for the city when I couldn’t even save my own brother.”

“What brought you back?” he asked, finally speaking after all that time.

“It was something he used to say to me, whenever things became too much. It's funny, back then I thought it was just something he said to make me feel better. I didn’t know how much impact it would actually have as Spider-Woman,” you told him.

“What did he say, your brother?”

“He used to say; when you’re lost in the darkness, look for the light. And he was right, I just had to look for the light. I put the suit back on and became the hero my city needed. Then I found others like me, other spider-men, women, all in between. I found you, and it was like everything lit up again. I found my light. So, I know you will too.”

You gave him another smile, warmer this time and brought his hand up. You pressed your lips to it, kissing it gently before letting go and standing up. You didn’t want to keep him any longer than you should.

“Don’t forget to eat, okay?” you said, taking your leave after.

Miguel watched you leave, thinking back to your words and the cord it struck. You were right, he was finding his light again.

[eldest-sibling-tournament]

eldest sibling tournament

here is the bracket for the eldest sibling tournament!

since round one contains 32 matches, it will be split into two parts. the polls for round 1, part 1 will begin tomorrow, march 17th, at 11am EDT.

this post will be updated throughout the tournament with links to the polls! feel free to submit propaganda through asks/submissions/reblogs/tags; i'll try to post/rb all of it.

all polls can be found at #tournament poll

round 1, part 1 | round 1, part 2 | round 2 | round 3 | quarterfinals | semifinals | final round | bonus polls

full list of original matchups under the cut!

left side of bracket, top to bottom:

Sokka (Avatar: the Last Airbender) vs Kate Sharma (Bridgerton)

Dmitri Fyodorovich Karamazov (The Brothers Karamazov) vs Tina Belcher (Bob's Burgers)

Jane Bennet (Pride and Prejudice) vs Robb Stark (A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones)

Raphael Hamato (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) vs Wendy Darling (Peter Pan)

Nani Pelekai (Lilo and Stitch) vs Meg Murry (A Wrinkle in Time)

Itachi Uchiha (Naruto) vs Wirt (Over the Garden Wall)

Meg March (Little Women) vs Jesse Cosay (Infinity Train)

Kendall Roy (Succession) vs Anthony Bridgerton (Bridgerton)

Declan Lynch (The Raven Cycle/The Dreamer Trilogy) vs Elphaba Thropp (Wicked)

Nancy Wheeler (Stranger Things) vs Franziska von Karma (Ace Attorney)

Candace Flynn (Phineas and Ferb) vs Gawain of Orkney (Arthuriana)

Shigeo "Mob" Kageyama (Mob Psycho 100) vs Fitzwilliam Darcy (Pride and Prejudice)

Jiang Yanli (Mo Dao Zu Shi/The Untamed) vs Violet Parr (The Incredibles)

Boromir (Lord of the Rings) vs Bianca di Angelo (Percy Jackson and the Olympians)

Mycroft Holmes (Sherlock Holmes) vs Elsa (Frozen)

Edward Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist) vs Tzeitl (Fiddler on the Roof)

right side of bracket, top to bottom:

Maedhros (The Silmarillion) vs Justin Russo (Wizards of Waverly Place)

Elektra (Oresteia) vs Louis de Pointe du Lac (Interview with the Vampire)

Buffy Summers (Buffy the Vampire Slayer) vs Kai Smith (Ninjago)

Connor Roy (Succession) vs Callum (The Dragon Prince)

Katniss Everdeen (The Hunger Games) vs Mia Fey (Ace Attorney)

Sophie Hatter (Howl's Moving Castle) vs Cain (The Book of Genesis)

Rodrick Heffley (Diary of a Wimpy Kid) vs Jazz Fenton (Danny Phantom)

Violet Baudelaire (A Series of Unfortunate Events) vs Isabela Madrigal (Encanto)

Dean Winchester (Supernatural) vs Rodya Raskolnikov (Crime and Punishment)

Thor Odinson (The Marvel Cinematic Universe) vs Éponine Thénardier (Les Misérables)

Edyn Tidestrider (Just Roll With It) vs Maddie Buckley (9-1-1)

Fiona Gallagher (Shameless) vs Gregor Samsa (The Metamorphosis)

Vi (Arcane) vs Tadashi Hamada (Big Hero 6)

Peter Pevensie (The Chronicles of Narnia) vs Vera Rostova (War and Peace)

Mako (The Legend of Korra) vs Sarah Williams (Labyrinth)

Dick Grayson (DC Comics) vs Julie Molina (Julie and the Phantoms)

[animegirleatingaburger]

[topguncortez]

34. "Bite me!" "No, you'd enjoy it too much." with jake!

Bite Me, Seresin | Jake Seresin x Roommate!Reader

Jake Seresin Masterlist | prompts list

synopsis: Jake didn't want a roommate, but he got one, and now he can't get rid of her.

warnings: fwb, someone has feeling, mentions of raw sex, mentions of oral, cursing, masturbation, nudity

note: if you want more Jake x Roommate lemme know, cause I got some other anons about them:)

Jake didn't want a roommate, but he needed one. Living in California was expensive, no matter how much the military gave him to live off base. He had a decent house a couple blocks away from the front gate of North Island, but he needed someone to take care of the place when he was gone. But he should've known that anyone Bradley Bradshaw suggested as roommate would be insufferable.

"Jacob! You parked in my fucking spot!" You yelled as you slammed the door to the garage. Jake smirked to himself as he finished mixing around the vegetables in the pan. He knew exactly what he did, and he knew it was going to piss you off. He parked in the middle of the garage, effectively blocking you from parking there.

"Jacob," You said, coming into the kitchen, setting down your bags from work. Jake looked over his shoulder and tried his hardest to fight the urge to stare at your breasts. You were fresh from the gym, wearing a tight sports bra and shorts that made your ass look amazing.

"Oh hey, sweetheart," He smiled, "Did I do something?"

You narrowed your eyes at him, "You know what you fucking did, you parked in the middle of the damn garage again!"

"Oh, I did?" He feigned innocence, "Well, maybe if you didn't leave all your damn shoes by the fucking door!"

"It was one pair! One pair, Jacob!"

"Quit calling me Jacob!"

You groaned and grabbed your bag, stomping your way out of the kitchen. Jake turned back towards the dinner he was cooking, his mood sour. He had such a good day too. He got in a good run before work, took down some of the newbies in a dogfight, and won a rock-paper-scissors game to get himself out of staying late to do paperwork tonight. Oh, and waking up to his cock in your mouth was an added bonus.

The two of you had a small friends/roommates with benefits thing going on. He got tired of hearing your fake moans and complaints after one of the men you met on whatever dating app had failed to satisfy you. You thought Jake was just messing with you when he first suggested it, but then he took you right then and there on the couch, and you knew he was 100% serious.

One would think with the amount of orgasms you give each other, the animosity would be nearly nonexistent. But it only seemed to up the ante between you. The fights between you were louder, the pranks were almost near nuclear, and the sex. . . the sex was downright rough and dirty.

You clenched your jaw as you threw your dirty work clothes into the hamper, getting ready to shower the day off. You grabbed your speaker, making sure to turn it up loud enough to annoy Jake down in the kitchen. He hated your taste in music and you knew it. Smiling, you turned on De La Soul, letting the bass hit your ears as you went and turned the shower on.

Jake groaned as he stopped the fork halfway to his mouth, "One dinner. One fucking dinner in peace." Jake pushed his way out of his chair and stormed up the stairs to your room. He pushed the door open and went straight to your bathroom. He was about to push the bathroom door open, when he heard that all too familiar sound coming from the other side. He smirked to himself, imagining how deep your fingers were inside of you to get that kind of reaction.

Jake could tell you were close by the way your moans got higher pitched. He knew now was his time to strike. Pushing the bathroom door open, he walked right over to your shower, and yanked back the curtain.

"Jacob!" You gasped, pulling your hands away from your core, "What the fuck!?"

"Don't be shy, sweetheart," He smirked, looking up and down your soaking wet body. He licked his lips, and you scoffed, turning away from him, "Oh come on, it's not like I haven't seen it before. Turn back around, lemme see the girls again."

"Oh bite me, Seresin!" You turned the shower head towards him, affectively soaking him. Jake turned his body away from the water stream that was not only soaking his flight suit, but his bathroom floor.

"No," Jake grunted and grabbed the shower head, turning it back towards you, "You'd enjoy it too much."

You looked over at him, "You're all wet."

"That makes two of us now, huh," Jake shot you that megawatt smile. You rolled your eyes and snatched the shower curtain from his hand.

"You just lost your invite!"

Jake chuckled and walked out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He knew that you'd probably come downstairs, as naked as the day you were born, and plant yourself on his lap, rub your soaking cunt over his covered cock, and beg him to fuck you.

[antiwaradvocates]

On this day in 1868, American socialist sociologist, author, historian, and activists, W.E.B. De Bois was born. Du Bois was a staunch fighter for civil rights, peace, and pan-Africanism, and joined the Communist Party in 1961 at the age of 93.

[gayest-classiclit]

a list of people in the classic literature sexyperson bracket

the following are already on the sexypedia and automatically in:

hamlet, hamlet

atticus finch, to kill a mockingbird

rodion raskolnikov, crime and punishment

sherlock holmes, the sherlock holmes books

arsene lupin, the arsene lupin books

frankenstein's monster/adam, frankenstein

jonathan harker, dracula. (his wife mina is tagteaming w/ him)

gerald croft, an inspector calls

big brother, 1984

erik/the phantom, phantom of the opera

mercutio, romeo and juliet

and the following have been submitted:

inspector goole, an inspector calls

benedetto, the count of monte cristo

edmond dantes, the count of monte cristo

gaspard caderousse, the count of monte cristo

quincey morris, dracula

ivan karamazov, the brothers karamazov

anatole kuragin and helene bezukhova, war and peace

dmitri razumikhin, crime and punishment

nastasya filippovna, the idiot

jean valjean, les miserables

captain hook, peter pan

dorian gray and basil hallward, the picture of dorian gray

charles bingley, pride and prejudice

carmilla, carmilla

helen of troy, greek mythology

benedick and beatrice, much ado about nothing

irene adler, the sherlock holmes books

annabel lee, annabel lee

violacesario, twelfth night

clopin trouillefrou, the hunchback of notre dame

lady macbeth, macbeth

therem harth ir em estraven, the left hand of darkness

eugene onegin, eugene onegin

alyosha karamazov, the brothers karamazov

count dracula, dracula

jesus christ and judas iscariot, the bible

henry jekyll, the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde

cathy ames, east of eden

enjolras, les miserables

hotspur, henry iv part 1

balladyna, balladyna

jay gatsby and daisy buchanan, the great gatsby

ruy blas, ruy blas

grendel's mother, beowulf

gregor samsa, the metamorphosis (by proxy)

eugene de rastignac, the human comedy

chloe, froth on the daydream

the duke de nemours, la princess de cleves

emma bovary, madame bovary

behemoth, the master and margarita

grantaire, les miserables

jane bennet, pride and prejudice

catherine, wuthering heights

milady de winter, the three musketeers

mephistopheles, faust

woland, the master and margarita

medea, greek mythology

prince hal from the henriad

fitzwilliam darcy from pride and prejudice

the woman behind the wallpaper from the yellow wallpaper

don rodrigue from the folktales

robin hood from the folktales this brings us to 63 entries so far! :)

[talonabraxas]

Brigit Druid Goddess Talon Abraxas

Brigit is a ‘pan Celtic’ goddess, who was worshipped by both the Goidelic and Brythonic Celts in the British Isles and beyond. She is a solar deity, who once hung her mantle on a sunbeam. In Celtic mythology, Brigit is the daughter of the Morrighan and the Dagda, the Good God and Chief of the Tuatha de Danaan, the ancient fairy race of Ireland, and the sister of Ogma, who invented the Ogham alphabet. She was the wife of Bres, King of the Fomorians (who were at war with the Tuatha de Danaan). Brigit was said to have been the mediator of peace between the two ancient warring tribes. She was the mother of the Three Gods of Danu – Ruadan, Iuchar and Uar. These three Gods were said to have married the three princesses of Ireland – Eire, Fodhla and Banbha. In other sources, Brigid is the daughter of Boann, the Goddess of the River Boyne in Ireland. Boann (bo fhionn) means ‘white cow’, an association she shares with Brigid. Brigit is primarily the patron Goddess of poets, healers and smiths. She is also a patron of other womanly arts – midwifery, dyeing, weaving and brewing, and the guardian of children and farm animals – particularly cows. The island of Ireland itself is said to be the green mantle of Brigit. She is also said to be the patron of travellers, sailors, and fugitives. She is specifically a patroness to the Druids in her aspects of poetry (Bards), healing and prophecy (Ovates) and blacksmithing (Druids).

[estinininininen]

Year of the Dragon heavensturn party in Ishgard!

Aymeric de Borel (Politician Face): As we gather this year, together as one people united under peace blah blah blah carefully rehearsed speech

Aymeric de Borel (Private thoughts): i wonder if ishgard is ready for those cool eastern othard snake dragon dances, and if i could get all the people who normally wouldnt dance cause they feel awkward in front of ishgard crowds, like WOL and Estinien, to do one together. faces hidden. asses primed for grabbing. it's perfect

Estinien: wh. why is everyone going crazy for this. this isnt even ishgard astrology. he's so confused. he stays near the punch bowl, keeping his back to a wall when he realizes WOL and Aymeric aren't joking about the Hingan dragon dancing. he spends all evening wondering when people will recognize him. no one does, until he wakes up the next morning hungover and covers the top half of his face with his hands. "estinien wyrmblood?!?!"

Ehll Tou: showing people how to teach their kids to make cute paper cut outs of a dragon and human holding hands

Artoirel de Fortemps: already has a headache at like, 9 pm. he thought he saw Haurchefant in the crowd, but he was gone just as fast, and instead of bittersweet joy it filled him with a strange, embarassed foreboding . . .

Emmanellain de Fortemps: tries to use his name and experience traveling outside of Ishgard to flirt, unsuccesfully. but he doesnt know that, cause people are still giggling and hanging around him. what's really attracting people's attention is the sign Sicard stuck on his back at the last second: "Am I As Tasty As Shiva? Kiss Me And Find Out"

(Sicard genuinely considered this a favor and not mocking.)

Ysayle Dangoulain: BANGING POTS AND PANS TOGETHER WHILE SCREAMING BAWDY DRAGON-HUMAN LOVE SONGS AND DARING HAURCHEFANT'S GHOST TO STREAK AT MIDNIGHT

Haurchefant Greystone: GETTING READY TO GO STREAKING AND YELLING AT YSAYLE'S GHOST TO KEEP IT UP OR HE'LL LOSE HIS NERVE, WE'LL PASS A CUP OF KINDNESS YET FOR MY SPECTRAL ASS

(Ishgard's only honest-to-Halone natural spirit medium, a very confused old nun halfway across the city: "Lo, the spirits are very Crunk this eve")