#grant deed
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orphancookie69 · 9 months ago
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Now Experiencing: Family Trust Dispute Mediation
Honestly, there is so much I learned from doing this. It is crazy to me, that before this, when someone would rather sell their home and split the money for their kids instead of giving the kids a house-an asset that would increase in value or be usable-it seemed crazy to me. However, had that been done in my own family-it would of been better in most regards.
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So, I was lucky enough to know both of my great grandparents. I love them, and parts of them inspire me to this day. I still hold myself as someone I would hope they would be proud of. I lost my great grandpa when I was little, he is the reason I am a reader today. My great grandma outlived him and is one of the strongest people I know. She passed just before I got married.
Of their kids, my grandpa, is the middle child. His older sister, was a smart but kind of useless person. Really, a shame for that intelligence to go to waste when the world could of really used it. The youngest, I was never really close to. It does not help that he was in and out of jail. But this story goes so much before and beyond that time frame.
The story is that my great grandmother dies, and to this day I can still remember the funeral. While I was really close to my grandma/grandpa growing up, as adults we had a falling out. While I am out of the picture, my grandparents pay rent for 40 years for a house they should have owned based on a gentleman's agreement made in the 80's. My great grandmother put everything into a trust after my great grandfather died and named the youngest the Successor Trustee. The estate itself has value in stocks, items, and properties.
My grandparents never received anything from the trust. They paid their rent, up until the end of 2023. Which, now looking back with my current occupational experience, is extremely absurd. I end up reconnecting with my grandparents and they ask me to help them with their situation. I read the trust and advise them on a couple of steps. Eventually I offer to be a mediator.
My first meeting as Mediator was a disaster. I have never felt so uncomfortable in a house that used to be filled with love. A couple of days later, I get a letter via my grandparents, from my great uncle asking me to mediate. I speak to him on the phone and agree to meet him alone in person. While I was not comfortable with it, based on how last meeting almost ended up in a screaming physical brawl, I put safe guards in place. Once I took a step back and took my feelings out of it-I had offered the same thing (unknown to my great uncle) to my grandparents. So I strove for fair.
I met with my great uncle and he let me know details on his end that helped to clear things up. So, after my great grandma passes in 2017-my great aunt and great uncle make trusts deeding their 1/3 of the estate to one another. Then they live off of their social security income, my grandparents rent, and the trust. My great aunt dies in 2021. So catching back up to 2024, where my grandpa was looking for a 50/50 split, the most that could be achieved is 1/3 and 2/3.
But then that assumes that the estate had anything left. There was less than $1,000 in the trust account and much had been sold over the years to keep everything above water. The biggest things to save at this point, was the houses. Each brother wanted the house they lived in. So I informed my grandpa about the state of affairs and honestly, it hurt to see him so damn heart broken. He is almost 70 years old and has been working his entire life to just be screwed over by his family.
I drafted a settlement agreement, and my lack of experience in this process starts to show. But I made the mistake of putting the small stuff with the large stuff. I ended up separating it and we got some traction back on this whole process. I got the settlement signed and picked a lawyer to do the final steps. Between the mishandling of the trust and nuances of the case, I was more worried about not doing these steps right. Like, me offering to do this from the goodness of my heart and making small mistakes is ok. But messing up the grant deeds? Nope.
So we ended up getting a quote for $1,450 as my great uncle did not even do the first step to be the Successor Trustee after my great grandmother died, means we needed affidavits and grant deeds. The other gray area is the parent child exclusion, which we may or may not be able to get. I got 2 copies of her death certificate to file with the grant deeds from Norwalk, did you know they now have an appointment system? It was pretty easy. My great uncle did not have the funds, and the lawyer wanted them upfront. So I set up a note to be paid back in 6 months.
I dropped off the paperwork to the lawyer and she got to work on the documents.
Moral of the Story: Money changes people. Blood needs to be nicer to one another. Bad parenting is so much worse than you would think it is. Legacy is what you make of it.
I was not a bad wannabe lawyer, for what essentially was my time, resources, and less than $2,000-we kept a little over 1 million dollars in assets in the family. This case though, made me question right and wrong, and how can family be so bad to one another? Where does this situation even begin at? Who, or how many people, need to mess up to have us end up here? Like, I know I can live with myself at the end of the day, as I was trying to honor my great grandparents/family legacy as best as I could-but did I even know the full legacy? Do I like knowing more now? This truly was an eye opening experience that I have no regrets doing. My advice to you reader, is avoid this with good parenting and estate planning.
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soupmanspeaks · 7 months ago
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you ever wonder if the Glamrocks's face tracking acts up when they look at Glamrock-Freddy, like they'll look at his face, and the recognition will register as Freddy, but their systems for whatever reason or another think that there is a face overlapped on Freddy's do you think they see two small squares next to him, at his side, roughly child sized, but no one is physically there.... right...?
#fnaf#michael afton#five nights at freddy’s#glammike#crying child#elizabeth afton#i wanted to allude something to william but idk#would the glamrocks go into the sinkhole? maybe#maybe next to glamrock freddy alongside the weird overlapping face he has and the two kid height faces#there is a face tracking box next to him...standing#remember that post about the ghost hunters comin to the pizza plex? maybe the weird face tracking happens too...#im watching garret watts and Andrew's constant facial tracking anomalies inspired this post lol#anyways i really like the thought that despite being the most friendly Glamrock; Freddy has this......feeling about him#his AI was made just this year! programmed with cutting edge and top of the line technology!#then....then why does he go off script sometimes? why does he say things that wasn't programmed show dialogue?#how does he know about Mr. Afton? the killer from the 80's who committed heinous deeds?#Why does he speak as if he knew him personally? if his AI is just pulling stuff from online; Why does he speak with resentment about him?#IM SORRY I JUST LOVE THE CONCEPT!!#like just because this franchise has gotten more neon and sugery than ever; remember; lights can be blinding and sugar causes cavities#idk what that means just omg there is more horror potential than you think in the SB era of games if you look hard enough#off topic but back to freddy being a sweetie pie i think that its funny okay#freddy sasses adults okay okay but he isnt mean to kids okay maybe michael just idk; MATURED? maybe he just got some whimsy mkay?#listen if i was forced to be in a perpetual cycle of atoning for my own and my father's sins i would find any and all silver linings mkay#aw yeah this is sick i get to be a freddy mercury inspired glamrock bear WOOO#granted michael was probably tired of animatronic bands and pizza by fnaf 6 but ykkkkkkkk it.....could be worse? he could be his dad lmao#anyways headcannon michael listend to freddy mercury and this is the equivalent of cosplaying him scott told me so (trust)#tag rambles! theyre fun lol
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leagueofdccm · 4 months ago
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KESSLER AESTHETIC : THE DEVIL WITHIN
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8vni · 8 months ago
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imagine someone making dua’a on Laylatu L’qadr to marry you
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msommers · 3 months ago
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so the thing is that ellana/blackwall have in fact become my copium during the move from hell and actually they're v good together
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ch3rrbearyeen · 3 months ago
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hey hey. look at me
you're gonna let me show u this self indulgent thing im into, right? yeah i know i usually say something like that because im embarrassed but you gotta be serious with me right now. what im about to show u is like tearing the blood and sinew from my body and slathering it on a board to present to you. dig your fists through my forming flesh, clench your hands around my heart and feel how it beats alive and anew. im handing the reins to the parts of my psyche that i keep locked deep inside out of primordial fear of rejection and abandonment from those i hold dear and asking you to not be nice, not to humor me, or to absolve me of my guilt, but to simply grant me the reprieve in joining me in unfettered joy and whimsy like ive long been deprived.
can you do that? can you give me that? yeah? okay. good, great.
(cooking with valkyries season 1 theme song begins)
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player-1 · 7 months ago
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Uh oh…
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fromdirectorlanawachowski · 2 years ago
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I’m thinking about how Worf introduced himself as Son of Sergej, House of Rozhenko, acknowledging his adoptive family as a core part of who he is
and I’m thinking about Guinan telling the Rozhenkos that when Worf comes down to Ten Forward to look out the windows for home, as everyone does once in a while, it’s always Earth he looks for.
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connectseo-blog · 1 month ago
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With the help of our experts at LDA Pro Legal, you can quickly draft an interspousal grant deed California. Please get in touch with us for further information.
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thcrealheroes · 3 months ago
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☠️◂kessler┊daddy's home it's time to play┊visage
☠️◂kessler┊is it such a sin for me to take what's mine┊Love,
☠️◂kessler┊I want to fucking tear you apart┊Lust,
☠️◂kessler┊trusts my deeds . murder it grants me peace┊Musing,
☠️◂kessler┊there is blood on the path i walk┊Aesthetics  ,
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lalunanymph · 9 months ago
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ΉΣЯ & ƬΉΣ ƧΣΛ
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༊ you ask rafayel how lemurians reproduce, and he can't wait to show you
✯ warnings; rafayel x fem!reader, established relationship, MONSTERFUCKING, switch!rafayel, switch!reader, rafayel's lemurian form, sex underwater, reader is coded to be feminine (wears a dress and lingerie), mentions of alien genitalia, rafayel calls reader 'master' once, petnames (my little conch shell, my queen, baby, my love, miss bodyguard), size kink (reader is obvs smaller than him, he's a goddamn mErmAID), OVIPOSITION, dirty talk, language, breeding, girl on top position, missionary, reader sucks his merman cock (lmao), dubious breathing underwater methods, mentions of food, mentions of alcohol, suggestive content, slight spoilers for rafayel's myth if you squint, mild angst
✯ istg i am a zayne girlie but something about rafayel just makes me go feral
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"𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒?"
The question stunned Rafayel from taking a bite of his souffle pancakes, his fork pausing from its journey into his now lax mouth. Sunlight continues streaming in past the French windows; the patrons of this cafe going about their day, oblivious to the malfunctioning celebrity artist amongst them.
A glob of whip cream freefalls off the metal tines and onto his plate. Those magnetic pink-blue eyes flash with a multitude of colors—like a sea-worn rock under the brilliant sun. 
However, as fast as your question hit him, he overcame it; no one could say that Mr. Rafayel, the art world's maverick and media-trained connoisseur, was slow in recovering his wits.
His signature teasing smile in place, Rafayel placed his fork back down onto the table.
Across from you, two friends were speaking in low tones and judging from their expression, unpacking their love lives with the sombreness of a priest reciting a divorce rite.
Rafayel blinked, tilting his head to the side. 
"Why would you ask, Miss Bodyguard?" 
He casually slung an arm over the back of his chair, a million dollar smile gleaming and ready. "Or, has something struck your most vivid imagination?" 
Laying it on thick, he couldn't even begin to disguise the gleam of his teeth—shining like the incisors of a great white after smelling fresh blood in the ocean. 
"I never thought you would be so sugges—ouch!"
Rafayel winced, and doubled over, rubbing his shin under the table. "What was that for?" 
You huffed, and fixed him a glare. "Don't embarrass me." 
"I was just joking."
"Wasn't funny." 
"Yeesh. You're really wound up about this, huh?" 
That infuriating smirk was plastered back onto his face; his boyish features making something in your chest squeeze. 
"Shut up and answer the question." 
He pretended to ponder on it for a moment. More color illuminates his stunning amethyst irises. Shining like jewels, only he knew the value of his true thoughts. 
Before you could retract your question and salvage this bright afternoon, Rafayel surprises you with his next words.
"Why don't I show you, my little conch shell?" 
You freeze. Scanning the area, you wondered if this was the right conversation to be having in such a brightly lit area. Granted, you and Rafayel were past the carnal stage —after being together for close to a year, your bodies were well-worn maps that lips and fingers could retrace and discover any time.
Fighting back a laugh, you shake your head.
"Is this another one of your racy propositions again?"
Rafayel merely smirked. "If that is how you wish to see it." 
Seriously now, you counter, "Will I have paint in my hair again?" 
Memories flash in your mind; of a large canvas, soft candlelight, and streaks of paint on the most random parts of your body found weeks after the deed was done. 
Your lover sits back, using one slender finger to cross over his heart. "I promise your hair won't go through such torment anymore." Despite your best efforts, your eyes trail to his broad chest, and the enticing V of his defined pecs.
As if sensing your eyes on him, Rafayel's mirth grows. "Looks like you can't resist much longer, I'll make you a deal—" 
He leaned in close—much too close—and you could smell the vanilla on his breath; the sunlight glinting off those purple irises softening with a look of warmth only he held for you.
"—come with me tonight to Whitesand Bay, and I promise you won't regret it." 
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Muggy and balmy in the evening, Whitesand Bay wasn't exactly the ideal meet up spot for Rafayel to finally fulfill his promise and show you how mermaids reproduce. 
But, you showed up anyway.
Dressed in a light, silk dress to combat the heavy heat of the summer night, you cautiously made your way down to the docks, keeping your eyes and ears peeled for Rafayel. 
"You're here." He appeared a moment later, dashing as usual in his white button-down and pristine slacks. Dazzling under the half-light, you allowed him to take your hand and lead you right to a boat.
"We're not going for a to take a deep dive like last time, right?" Hearing the skepticism in your voice, he laughs.
"Of course, not. I paid Thomas a huge bonus last month and told him to buy a speedboat. For us to borrow, if you're curious." 
"Poor Thomas," you mused, letting him hold you close to his side as he helped you atop the board. "His boss is a tyrant... asking him to use his bonus for such lavish nonsense."
"Is it really a lavish nonsense if I get to have you here?" 
Rafayel's sincerity struck you mute. He breezed past your shocked figure, unaware of the effect he has on you. "Well? Are you going to continue mocking my methods of employment or are we going to do this?" 
Even though his chest was puffed and voice full of bravado, you could tell your sweet artist boyfriend was struggling with his nerves. The tips of his ears were bright red, a faint shadow of a pout on his lips. 
"Raffie," you whisper, taking his hand. He glanced at you, wide-eyed like a fish caught on the bait. "What're you so scared of? It's just you and me."
He lets you rub your thumb across his knuckles, tightening your hold on his fingers.
"I just..." he trails off. "... just don't want you to think I'm a freak. That's all."
Rafayel refused to look at you when he was this vulnerable, and you couldn't help the short giggle bursting past your defenses. He glared, and you quickly reached for his face, touching his cheek.
"Never," you emphasize. "I will never think you're weird. Ever. Besides, if you're a freak then I'm the weirdo in love with you."
Your dopey grin sets something aflutter in his chest, like ripples of ocean waves splashing across a strange shore. Rafayel smirks and takes your hand off his face, choosing to twine his fingers with yours. 
"Shall we make a move, then, my little conch shell?" 
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"Rafayel..."
The sight before you stuns you with its splendor. Your beloved boyfriend had gone all out—picnic blankets, lighted candles, flutes of champagne, and spreads of seafood as far as the eye could see... arranged all across the flatbed of this hidden alcove where the sea kisses the land. 
In the distance, the gentle swishes of waves lapping at the shore greeted your ears, its waves illuminated faintly as if lit from within.
"Bioluminescent algae," Rafayel murmurs right behind you. His arms came to wrap around your waist, the heat of his breath fanning right across your exposed neck. "They only appear in the summer when the water is warm." You fight back a shiver, trying not to show how affected you were by his presence. 
"Oh." Dumbly, you weren't sure how to put your thoughts together, much less a coherent sentence. 
Sensing your speechlessness, Rafayel exhaled a laugh. "Come on. We should eat before the food gets cold."
There's a dip in his tone, something tinged with a darker emotion you barely had time to unravel before he was tugging you onto the picnic mat. The food was divine, his personal chefs going all out to satisfy both of your palettes. Conversation flowed easily like the champagne slipping down your throat, coaxing you to release the tightness in your chest in favor of bubbly giggles and flirty smiles.
Rafayel's cheeks were steadily growing pinker, and you were sure he would double over and pass out—forgetting about your brazen question—when you felt his hand on your thigh.
"Would you like to take a swim with me?" 
Memories of seaweed brushing your bare legs, Rafayel’s arms steadily around your waist as he led you past the shoreline fills your mind. Anything cool sounded like a blessing from this heat. 
Plus, he was a pretty good swimmer, as evident from what he truly was. Rafayel would never put you in harm’s way. 
Safe. That was the word. You always feel safe with him. 
“Yes.”
He takes your hand, gives it a squeeze and helps you stand.
Rafayel started to undress first. The hem of his expensive silk shirt reveals the fitted band of his equally expensive slacks—made by the best tailors in all of Linkon. Then, pale skin. It stretches, tightens over defined obliques, abs and then his impressively broad chest. 
Scattered across the sinew and muscle roping his torso were smatterings of moles and beauty marks. 
Someone once told you that these marks were spots past lovers used to love kissing. You idly trace your gaze over the one on his left pec, right over his heart. 
If Rafayel and you had been together in the past, you were sure that the spot over his heart would be your favorite spot to plant your lips on him. 
As furtively as you could, you tried not to gape at him, but completely failed.
Rafayel was a masterpiece made by the gods themselves, and you were the poor fool gaping at his altar; transfixed on the sharp V which led to a light dusting of his happy trail. 
His cock strains behind his slacks, bulging noticeably. You want to reach out and skim your fingers, eager to feel it twitch under your touch. 
"Well?" His gentle amusement tore your thoughts from their sinful vices. "Are you gonna just stare at me or are we going for a swim? Your pick, Miss Bodyguard." 
Showing that you were far braver than you felt, you stood up, shaky hands reaching for the straps of your dress. "Don't look at me." 
A surge of heat flooded your cheeks, your eyes resolutely turned to the side. Obediently, Rafayel followed your orders, though you could hear the cogs turning in his head. It's not like I haven't seen her naked before.  
But, this wasn’t the usual plotting, teasing and flirting you both would indulge in.
Something about the air tonight felt heavier. 
Intimate.
You swore Rafayel could pick up your heartbeat from where he stood. The heat on your cheeks spread down your chest, tingling on your fingertips.
“Okay. I’m ready.”
In nothing but in your lingerie, you shift from foot to foot, feeling too vulnerable and open.
The sky above yawns wide, inky black jaws lovingly unfurling like a spread of velvet sheets. His hand is warm in yours, and you squeeze it, trying to hide how you were trembling. 
“Hey.” Rafayel sweeps you into his arms. Try as you might to fight off the nerves, they bubble up in a short squeak when your face meets his chest. “Relax, baby. You’re shaking like a bubble in the sun… don’t pop just yet.”
You find comfort in his scent—oceanic and musky—breathing him in. 
Do you trust me? Rafayel once asked when you both were drunk on a night out. 
Of course, I do. You flick his nose. Why wouldn’t I trust you? 
Even if I’m different? He fixes you with a look, lucid for someone who had just downed an entire champagne bottle. And I can’t be normal for you? 
Especially because you aren’t normal in the sense of its word… I trust you even more because you trusted me, first. 
Waves lap at your toes, and you shiver at how cool the water is. 
“Easy,” Rafayel coaxes you. He takes the lead, sinking into the soft sand first, never releasing his hold on you. 
You do as he says, a sailor to his siren call, except you knew in your heart you would willingly follow him till the ends of the world.
Once the water was up to your waist, Rafayel exhaled. “Stay here. I’ll be back.” 
You don't have time to protest when he dives into the waves, barely kicking up a spray. Eyeing the softly luminated sea surface, you dip your fingers into the warm water, watching a blue orb float in between your loose fists. 
“Hey.”
Startling, you look up to find him grinning, lilac hair darkened with salt water; holding a bundle of what you thought was tangled hair in his grasp.
“I know you hate the taste of seaweed, but this’ll help when we… get into things.” 
He ends in an awkward note, and you wondered what happened to the once cocky, and sure Rafayel you knew. 
Unfurling his clenched fist, he hands you one single strand. “Eat this. It’ll help you breathe underwater temporarily.” 
“What is it?” you sniff at the strange vegetation. 
“Hydroweed. It gives humans the ability to breathe underwater for up to an hour.”
Putting your faith in his words, you nod. Opening your mouth, you bite into the Hydroweed. 
The briny taste was overwhelming, its tough fibers making it difficult for you to chew. But, you manage to swallow it down. 
Instantly, you felt your throat closing, the air choked out of your lungs. “Rafayel—!” 
Strong hands grab your waist, dragging you under the foamy waves. 
You gasp, about to scream at him to let you go, when you took in your first deep breath underwater.
The world suddenly came to life. Bright blue orbs floated right in front of your face, and you reached for them, in awe at how vivid they glowed now you could see them up close. 
Down in the depths, the waves became hushed murmurs in the background, filling your ears with a ringing silence. 
“Are you okay?” Rafayel’s voice shot through the floating calm like a shout, and you cringed back in shock. 
“Sorry,” he laughs, and pulls you to his side. “It’s way quieter down here than up above because sound travels differently. Strange, huh?” 
You nod, not entirely sure if you could use your voice. As if he read your thoughts, Rafayel chuckles.
“Go ahead and speak, my little conch shell. I can hear you just fine.” 
You take a deep breath. “O-okay.” Growing confident and more comfortable, you relax in his embrace. “It feels… strange. Like you said. But, at the same time, I don’t entirely hate it.”
“Mhm,” he rubs your back, smiling reassuringly and wide. “If there are other Lemurians within a few miles, they can most likely hear you scream.”
His double meaning didn’t register until you felt his palms tracing your hips, teasing down your body to give your ass a fond squeeze.
“Hey—!” 
You swat his hands away, mute with embarrassment. “I-is that why you all live so deep in the sea? For privacy?” 
Rafayel hums. It’s a little off putting how clear his voice sounds, like you were listening to him through a pair of high-grade earphones. 
“Usually, Lemurians mate deep in the trenches where the light can’t find us. It helps to keep things more private and intimate. If not, we travel to other seas uninhabited by our species. I used to know a guy who dragged his wife to the middle of the Atlantic when they were trying for a family.”
Rafayel’s focus ebbs into the distance, a tinge of sadness in his tone that appears whenever he speaks of his long lost people and home. 
You take his hands in yours and squeeze, trying to draw him back from the precipice of his ruined memories.
“We could try…” you trail off, unsure if this was the right thing to say. “...to repopulate it?” 
Like your words were a trigger, you found yourself planted right on the ocean floor, soft sand cushioning your body.
You squeak, quickly darting your eyes to his, arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders.
Rafayel’s usual glimmering pink-blue eyes were shadowed by a darker emotion; reminding you of glinting shark teeth or a blade of moonlight slicing through choppy water. 
“Don’t say that, baby.” Was it you, or did his voice drop an octave? 
Your Lemurian lover’s low reprimand made a shudder run down your spine, his half-mast eyes causing your stomach to flip.
“You don’t know how those words make me feel… my kind used to reproduce by the dozens—I can’t wait to see you bulging with my babies.” 
Wait… babies? 
With a capital ‘S’?
His mouth lands on yours, hungry and seeking. You kiss him back with as much ardor, lost in the sensations that you almost forgot what he had said earlier.
“Raf… Rafayel—” you gasp when he starts to dig his teeth into your neck, nipping down your jaw and collarbone.
Deft hands unclip your bra, the motion fluid like he has done this a million times before. From the corner of your eye, you see every article of clothing he took off you floating right to the surface; moonlight bouncing off the fragmented surface, playing across the broad expanse of his back. 
Your head swims with fuzzy thoughts long discarded when he pushes the plush fat of your tits together, licking and nipping around your areolas, ignoring how your nipples were already circling with need. 
“Raffie…” You fist his hair, trying to push his mouth to where you need him the most. “Don’t tease me.”
He laughs at your soft whine. “I need to make sure you’re prepared, my love.”
My love. Rafayel only called you that term whenever he was in the thick of his passion; it seems like you were about to witness the cumulation of your innocent question coming true.
Strong hands held you firmly while he eased down your body, planting fleeting kisses on every inch of your skin his lips could touch. 
Down in the deep, gasps and screams weren’t sounds, but vibrations; the sounds escaping your mouth resounding around your entwined bodies.
“Fuck,” Rafayel cussed once he reached the apex of your thighs. “I can’t wait to finally taste you underwater.” 
Barely giving you time to brace yourself, the broad stroke of his tongue melted through your folds. 
Never would you have imagined you would be eaten out right on the ocean’s bed—going deeper and deeper into the neverending blue. 
Rafayel’s lips were wrapped around your nub, sucking and caressing it with his tongue exactly how you liked it. Your smaller fingers sank into his hair, the other entwining with his own above your heart; back arched to give him everything you have.
“S’good,” he murmurs, verging on the edge of slurring. “I love you.”
His name tumbles from your mouth like a primal echo, calling him right to the edge of a bottomless trench.
Rafayel wasn’t afraid; he would traverse the deep beyond for as many chances to be with you as he could.
“Put your legs around my waist,” he whispers in between sloppy kisses back up your body. 
If someone were to tell you that your sweet boyfriend was literally making love to you on the bottom of the ocean, you would tell them a Wanderer had infected their mind.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see his body emanating a faint glow. A distant memory claws past the thin membrane of your barely held together thoughts; moonlight bouncing off pink-blue scales, his unbearable body heat and a pearly sheen misting his eyes.
“Rafayel—” 
The change was imperceptible. At first, you couldn’t feel anything but the sinful sinking of his cock stretching out your cunt. 
Then, it hit you like a freight train.
His waist felt like it was expanding, pushing your thighs further apart. But, when you glanced down the line of your bodies, the length of his legs was replaced by something longer. Bigger. It distinctly had two fins attached to the end, bent at an angle to accommodate the position he was fucking you in.
“R-Rafayel—!” 
“Fuck,” he strains, lining his forehead with yours. “I-I’m scared of hurting you.” 
“N-no,” you force your thick tongue to relinquish the words. “You'll never.”
His skin grew harder under your touch, inches of pale expanses replaced by shiny scales. Minus his face, his limbs, back, chest and torso were completely covered by the armor-like toughness of multiple hardened plates. Where the scales couldn’t touch, they were bonded together by thin layers of lamella, giving his entire body an otherworldly sheen. 
Mesmerized, you titled his face towards you, marveling at the scattering of scales adorning his throat and jaw. 
“Wow,” you murmur, touching them. They weren’t as hard or sharp as you imagined; his scales had a delightful give you couldn't stop pressing down on. 
In response, Rafayel grunts. “Baby… It’s happening.”
You were about to part your mouth and ask him what was, when your eyes shot wide open. 
The place where you both were connected suddenly grew tighter, as if something was pushing against your insides. Your muscles instinctively tried to expel the foreign intrusion, tensing and tightening—it was a shot of fear unlike any other you had ever tasted. 
Panicking, you cried out, “Rafayel, stop!”
Immediately, he ceased rutting into you, breathing heavily. Anguished, pastel eyes peel clapped onto yours, a pearly sheen filming over them.
“Shit… shit, I’m so sorry…”
“What’s happening?” you blurt out, a tremble of fear in your question. “Are you… are you putting e-eggs in me?” 
“Eggs?” he sounds bewildered, and that causes you to be perplexed in turn. Breathing hard, Rafayel’s forehead thumps onto your sternum. He doesn’t refute you or confirm your suspicions. Instead, he takes in a deep, ragged breath, like he was trying to tame down a cresting emotion. “Did you actually think, for a single second, that I was going to leave eggs in you?” 
Before you can even speak, his broad shoulders start to shake. Rafayel’s quiet laughter roused your confusion and indignation; your brows furrowing together because he wouldn’t stop laughing.
“Shut up,” it was your turn to be the whiner in this relationship. “You’re mean. It’s a valid question!” 
“Oh, baby,” he wheezes. One second, he was laughing, and the next, he lapsed into a quiet seriousness, the sudden mood change giving you whiplash. “I would never hurt you like that, my love. Trust me.”
Gently grasping your hand with his, he slips it down both your bodies, right to where you two were connected. “What I meant to show you, my little conch shell, is this.” 
He brings your hand between your own legs. You thought he was going to make you touch yourself, but when you feel something hard and distinctively not flesh-like bump your hand, you flinch back.
“Ssh, don’t be afraid,” he murmurs. “Go on and take a look, my love.”
Again with my love. 
Rafayel was either struck with nerves, or he was completely enamored with you at this moment. 
You licked your lips, tasting salt water on them and cautiously stretched your fingers to feel the strange object up. It was long and girthy, like a penis, except it wasn’t.
Steeling yourself, you risk a peek.
Gone was the smooth, veiny skin of Rafayel’s cock. His human one. 
In its place, was a thick length, riddled with ridges and bumps like an octopus’ tentacle. His very human appendage was always a stunner—slender (like his physique), veiny, with a hooked tip—but the sight before you (that strange and downright alien sight) blew your expectations out of the water. 
Your gasp reverberated around the pressing silence. Rafayel was quiet, waiting for you to speak. In turn, you couldn’t keep your eyes off his new genitalia. 
“Is that…” you struggle to piece together a coherent question. “Is that all… going inside of me?” 
Rafayel grunts. “Unless you don’t want me to, sweetheart.”
You take a moment to gather your thoughts, staring past the crest of his shoulder towards the shimmering, seemingly impenetrable ceiling of a world beyond the bubble you both created.
“I do,” you finally whisper, your confession rippling around the both of you, suspending your forms in an endless wave of mutual ecstasy. “I want this. I want you.”
Rafayel doesn’t bother to waste his time replying. You brace yourself, heels digging into his hips, clinging onto him with all of your strength. 
The first breach of his otherworldly cock inside of you felt like a touch of electricity up your spine. You cried out, nails digging into his scaly shoulders.
“Relax,” he paces you through the sensations. “I need you to relax for me, my love. I can’t get in if you’re this tight.” 
You gulp in a few deep breaths with your eyes screwed shut, and eventually, your heartbeat slows down. Sluggishly cracking your lids open, you catch the gleam in his pink-blue irises; locks of his iridescent hair floating around his serene expression.
The strange sensation was back, easing past your ring of muscle. You choke on a moan, trying to swallow your fear. 
“Ssh,” Rafayel murmurs. To distract you, he leaves feathery kisses on your cheeks, jaw and then, your lips. 
If the bottom of the ocean wasn’t enough to drown you, his kiss would. 
Rafayel… you whisper into the water. 
His name was a prayer dedicated to the Sea Gods on your tongue, your body sprawled out beyond your comprehension. Every line of you was taut with tension, the achingly slow stretch of his appendage plunging deeper and deeper into your heat had your head spinning like a whirlpool was threatening to suck you in. 
“Almost,” his harsh whisper clashes with your breath. “So good for me; you’re doing so good for me, my love.”
“Rafayel,” you mewled, the sea taking your tears. Hiccuping his name, you shudder, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. 
Your fist clamped down on soft sand, your back arched, and finally—finally—you felt his hips clipping yours.
“Fuck.”
The both of you groan in unison. 
His kisses were still warm, flush on your parted lips. Rafayel shunted his hips forward, then back. Repeating the same motion. 
Again. Again. And again.
The sensation was unlike any other you had felt in this world. No cock could possibly compare to the ridges wrapped around his length, the blunt, elongated tip almost touching the deepest part of your body.
“Rafayel,” you cried in a thick voice, like your mouth was filled with cotton. “Oh, God…”
Your tits flushed to his chest, your fingers in his hair and his tongue twining with yours shook your inner world like a deep sea earthquake.
This wasn’t like your usual lovemaking sessions; everything was amplified, more sensitive and tangible.
God, was it all so tangible.
You could physically feel every scaly ridge under your fingertips. His modified cock dragging those ecstasy-inducing bumps across your walls. Even his taste was different underwater; like a briny, primal flavor which coated your tongue. 
“Y/N,” his moan more angelic than what you could handle. “I love you. I love you so, so much—” 
Rafayel choked, and you didn’t need to ask to know he was about to cum. 
The ecstasy of it all wrapped its tendrils around both your embracing bodies; a human and Lemurian entangled in a dance as old as time. 
“I love you,” you cry out, toes curling and your nails raking down his back. Rafayel grunts, and in the dim half-light of the ocean engulfing you, you swore you saw his frantic eyes shine like precious pearls.
The world was closing in, darkness seeping into the corners of your vision. 
You pushed on his shoulder, trying to get his attention; acutely aware that the ache in your lungs wasn’t because of his kisses, but of something else.
Something out of your control.
The call of the surface burned through your lungs, and you opened your mouth, about to scream for him to let you go, when it all slammed into you like a tidal wave.
Darkness exploded, splattering across your mind, and you heard his cry of your name, the sound now echoey and muggy.
There was movement. A sharp tug. What sounded like wind whistling through your ears. 
Through your snatches of consciousness, you were aware of the pushback both your bodies weathered through the wall of water; how the ocean was trying to hold you back.
As soon as the sensation appeared, it was shattered by a golden burst of fresh oxygen.
Gulping in mouthfuls of air, you yelled out in fright, blindly grappling across the writhing dark mess of endless ocean surrounding you. 
Rafayel! Rafayel!
You felt strong arms wrap around you, holding you in his embrace like how a father would cradle his child.
Close your eyes, you thought you heard him murmur in your ear. And don’t open them until I tell you it’s safe to.
Arms clamped around his shoulders and legs wrapped around his waist, your intrinsic fear of the ocean made you trust his word. 
Gently now, you were bobbing across the water, the cool currents rushing across your bare skin. It felt like gelatinous cold drafts constantly hitting every body part. Staying true to his promise, you kept your eyes shut until you felt rough sand on your back; the waves receding from your body to lap at your toes.
Gasping, you peel your eyes open, lid by lid.
The alcove where he took you tonight was back in front of you. 
Rolling onto your front, you tried to stand, but only succeeded in stumbling back onto the sand; losing your sense of balance from countless minutes spent suspended in the ocean's mass.
“Hey, hey. Easy there.”
Rafayel was still in his Lemurian form, and this time, under the dim, flickering lights of the bay’s lanterns, you were stunned into an awe-inspiring disquiet.
The flickering warmth casted shadows over his iridescent scales, those once tough and gray plates under the ocean’s darkness glowing from the inside out with a pink-blue flame.
Half of his tail was still submerged in the water, and you couldn’t help but drag your gaze across the stunning length.
Easily a few feet long, you couldn’t even begin to wrap your head around the mental image of how majestic his entire Lemurian form would look underwater. It was just too bad the Hydroweed’s effects were over before you could even get to the good part.
Your thighs were chafing, drawing attention to your gapingly empty cunt. 
Pulling yourself to your knees, you came chest to chest with him. 
Rafayel’s saltwater soaked fingers grasped your cheeks, titling it up to inspect you. 
Trickles of water seeped down his face, darkening the sand with droplets of wetness.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, fraught and remorseful. “I lost track of time. I could’ve seriously injured you.”
“It’s okay.” The both of you flinched back from how hoarse your voice sounded. Clearing your throat, you struggled to put your mushy thoughts into words. “I… enjoyed it.”
Rafayel dropped his hands, his breathing growing ragged. “I should get back to normal—”
“No!” 
You stunned him with your vehemence, scrambling to grip his shoulders, clapping your crazed eyes onto his widened ones.
You’re acting like a mad woman. 
But, he didn’t say that to you. Rafayel grasped your hands, drawing them to his chest, pouring every drop of attention onto you. 
“I want to… try it… here.” 
You pieced together your incoherent request, and a part of you wondered—dreaded—if you had already lost your mind from the lack of oxygen and crushing deep sea pressure. 
Rafayel stared at you for a moment, unspeaking.
Then, he gently dragged you closer. Before you could even squeak, he had you straddling his waist. 
This time, it was your turn to peer down at him, curtains of your wet hair framing your face.
“Take me, then,” his voice was equally as hoarse as yours, though you suspected it wasn’t from ingesting enough saltwater to fill up your lungs. Trembling fingers touched your face, smoothing across your cheeks. “I’m all yours. I’ve been bound to you since the very beginning. You can take me, I won’t fight back. I told you I wouldn’t that night, don’t you remember? I’m keeping my word now.”
Something about the longing in his tone, how those pink-blue eyes yearned to swim in your soul, brought a lump to your throat. 
“Rafayel…”
Strong hands helped to guide your hips over his cock, easing you down with quiet praises and encouragement.
So good for me, baby. Look at you. Taking me so well. Wish I could paint this moment—you look so pretty. All for me. My love. My love. 
“R-Rafayel!” Thin red lines bloomed on his chest from your nails, your eyes rolling back into your head.
Without the sea’s buoyancy to support you, gravity took over, easing you down his bulbous cock.
Rafayel’s thumb circles your clit, rubbing it gently, soothingly, to get you wetter.
Your body felt like it was about to split cleanly into two—he was much too big for you. 
“C-can’t!” you whisper-cried. “I can’t take all of you—ngh.”
His mouth found your nipples, licking and sucking along the fleshy nubs until they were coated with his spit and tightening obscenely; an erotic outline lit by the bay's dim lantern lights.
“You can,” he mumbled in between your breasts. “I know you can.”
The rough strip of his tongue slid from your sternum towards your neck, pausing right at your pulse point. Sharp bites bloomed on your neck from his teeth, and you shiver from the throbbing pain going straight to your clit. 
That strange, heightening sensation was back. You felt much too sensitive, like a lightning rod trembling from an impending electrical storm.
One touch could’ve made you explode.
Rafayel brought your lips to his, tangling his tongue down your throat; stoppering your cries. 
Warm, smooth, distinctively human palms caressed your hips and thighs. 
Almost in, baby, he whispers in between kisses. I can feel every inch of you. 
You flit your eyes to where both your bodies meet, in mute shock from how deep he already was in you.
“You like it, baby?” he breathes warmly on your jaw. “Like watching yourself sit on my cock?” 
Fuck. Stop teasing me, you want to whine. But, the words won’t slip past your clenched teeth. 
His name bounces across the soft sand, the wind picking up and making you shiver. 
The warm glow of the lanterns spill across his sharp cheekbones, planes of his jaw. You’ve never seen someone look this beautiful under a hazy night sky before.
“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” you feel him murmur against your lips. “Say the word, baby. We’ll stop.”
You’re panting now, trying hard not to break your progress and having to start over. Rafayel was about halfway inside, and you forced your body to push and receive. 
Guh, you gasp, tossing your head back. 
“Love seeing you stretch yourself out on my cock, baby,” Rafayel mutters hoarsely—passionately. 
The implicit meaning in his words is clear: I love how you give yourself so willingly to me.
For Rafayel, you would do this ten times over until your body memorizes him. Willing your cunt to make a home for his monster cock even if it would break your spine.
“Almost,” he reassures in a low groan. “You feel s’good baby.”
He’s sweating as well, bullets of exertion not to break his composure and fuck into you mingling with the last of the seawater droplets rolling down his temples.
Rafayel, Rafayel, you whimper his name over and over. Oh God…
Something bubbles inside of you, thick and hot. You think you’re about to spill over, thighs shaking from the effort of holding yourself up. 
Your lover groans, low and lusty, his eyes trapped right in between your legs. “You’re so wet—look. Your little pussy loves me, baby.”
You glance to where he’s telling you to look, and nearly pass out from the embarrassment. 
Thick, pearly droplets are oozing down his merman length, and you would’ve thought it was from him had you not felt your walls start to twitch—more wetness gushing and trickling down to stain his pelvis.
The added lubrication made it easy enough for you to bottom out on his cock, and both your mutual cries of ecstasy reverberated into the dark night.
Shit, shit. Too big. You’re too big for me.
“You can take it,” he mouths your earlobe, kissing down your cheek. “Doing so well for me.”
Your breathing trembles, like a question hanging in thin air. Can you fuck me now? 
Rafayel scoffs and bumps his nose with yours gently. “Always making me do the hard work. You really are my spoiled, pretty princess, aren’t you? Or…” his voice drops, the heat in his eyes almost scorching you. “Do you want to be my good girl?”
You gasp: I do. I want to be your good girl.
He hisses when you start to shift your hips, the motion making your clit catch on his pelvis. You mewl, leaning forward to repeat the same motion; trying to chase after that spark of pleasure over and over again.
Those big, smooth palms cradle your face, pushing your hair back.
Rafayel’s jaw is tense, like he’s biting down on some inner demon you can’t see. 
That’s it. That’s my good girl. 
Your nails leave white crescent moons on his pale shoulders as you ride him, every bump and ridge of his cock brushing your sweet spot. He was so deep in you, almost plunging right past your cervix. 
“Fuck,” he curses. “You’re gonna kill me, baby.”
An arm sweeps you right to his chest, your cheek pressed atop his heartbeat. Rafayel thrusts his hips up, meeting your sensual grinding.
Spit pools in the back of your throat, your eyes squeezed shut as you let your Lemurian lover have his way with you. You part your mouth, mellifluous moans touching the air and turning it golden to his reddened ears.
I love you. His whispers against your throat, the sting of his teeth soothed by the sweetness of his praise and adoration. I love you so much, my good girl.
“You fuck me so good,” the words tumble from your split mouth, recklessly thoughtful. “No one can fuck me like you.”
Yeah, he pants, mouthing your pulse point. Cream on this cock, baby. It’s all yours. His hands span across your lower back, traversing down to grip your ass and spreading you wider for him.
Give me everything you’ve got, Princess. 
His cock plunges so deep inside of you, and you were sure that if he came right now, he might’ve knocked you up in one try. 
All yours. Rafayel was all yours. 
You lean up, arms resting on either side of his head as the sand bites into your skin. 
Rafayel thinks he might’ve died and gone to heaven. He watches, mesmerized, as your tits sway right in front of his face. You’re fucking him now, meeting each fluid thrust he had to give; bouncing on his lap like you were riding out a desperate heat.
His thighs tense, and he feels your pussy clench down on him. 
Fuck, you stutter, and so do your hips. I’m close. 
He squeezes your ass, smacks it with both palms.
Your breathing catches, and you ride him even harder. Faster.
“Fuck,” those pretty eyes were hooded, latched on your bouncing tits and stiff nipples. “Look so good fucking me—you love using me, don’t you, Master?” 
You gasp, and Rafayel feels your composure slip when you squeeze down on him. He almost cums right there and then. But, he fights it off, needing to see you lose control first.
The sight of your stickiness frothing at the base of his cock nearly makes him white out in pleasure, getting messier with every stroke of his non-human cock. 
He’s never had a human before in his Lemurian form, but it’s something straight out of a wild, wet dream.
Your skin was so, so soft in comparison to his hard scales that he’s almost afraid of hurting you with them.
But, you prove you’re made of tougher stuff when you lean back, bracing both hands on the girth of his tail. 
Showing off your puffy pussy and glistening hole taking every inch of him like it was made for this and only for this purpose.
He feels himself drowning in you. No one has ever taken him this deep. His mouth falls open, a low grunt touching your hot ears. Good girl… good fucking girl. His praises make you warm all over. You would do anything and everything to earn his devotion. But, Rafayel doesn’t make you do it—he gives it to you freely. One large hand smoothed over your belly, your tits, pinching your nipples and smirking inwardly when you gasp and groan. 
Breathy whimpers resound, his thumb on your clit rubbing out full body shudders. The sky above spins, like he’s being sucked into and about to be spat out of a whirlpool.
His eyes bounce from the softness of your belly, your tits jiggling, and then back down to your pretty pussy taking all of him in.
“Like what you see?” 
Rafayel flits his gaze back up. Your eyes were two pools of smoldering heat, about to burn him alive.
You grab his wandering hand, pressing it right over your stomach. “I can feel you here.” He twitches, and you gasp. “So, so deep.”
Sloppy sounds of your bodies meeting; you were so, so wet and perfect. Your pussy was gushing, fighting between squeezing him out or sucking him in. 
I’m gonna cum, baby, he grunts. The vein in his neck tightens, and your whimper almost sets him off.
Gonna cum so deep inside of you. Make you so round and perfect with my babies. You’re my Queen, aren’t you? My love. I’ll love you until the seas dry up. You’re mine forever. 
It’s that tinge of possessiveness which does you under. You were putty to his deep, gravelly voice; those words of unending devotion and sin.
His thick, dark lashes flutter, those pretty eyes rolling back into his head.
Fuck, baby. He grabs onto your hips, looking for something to steady him. “I need you… I’m gonna cum,” he whines, and it’s pathetic really—how much you’ve affected him.
If he was a lesser man, Rafayel might’ve called you his weakness. But, you were more than that.
You were the reason he woke up in the mornings. The reason he relentlessly pursued the passages of time and space to find you; you were the muse to his madness. 
“Do it for me, baby,” you pant, and fall back into his arms. Chest to chest, lips to lips, every breath you took was exhaled by his own. “Cum for me.”
Make me yours forever, Rafayel.
The world goes white, and your pussy quivers around him, an ending opera note suspended in mid-air.
It comes crashing down, slo-mo turned to a normal pace when time rushes back to engulf your sluggish shore.
His cum fills you up, thicker and running hotter than a human’s. It felt strange; pulsating inside of you, glob after glob. Your pussy shudders and breaks, physical and emotional walls all torn down for him; voice hoarse and edged with mania. Rafayel, Rafayel, Rafayel…
You mumble his name like a prayer while he drags your lips to his, kissing you like an oath.
He feels you shudder around him, growing weaker like a kitten. It would be so easy for him to pierce your neck with his teeth, cut through your jugular with his scales. 
But, Rafayel tames his primal, oceanic urge to destroy, reining it back in favor of nosing your hair.
“Felt so good,” he mumbles tiredly. “Are you okay, my little conch shell?”
You hum, shift your hips. The bulbous head of his cock brushes the opening of your cervix. “I can’t believe I took you so deep.” You drift off and in a few minutes, feel him go from soft to half-hard in you again. 
“Are you still turned on, baby?” you ask innocently, voice soft and frayed with exhaustion. Rafayel swivels his face away, trying to hide his red ears.
“N-no.”
You huff a laugh, using all the strength in your jelly-like limbs to sit up. Something catches your attention, and in the corner of your eye, you pick up the dark strands, fisting it close to your mouth.
Rafayel watches, unsure what you’re intending to do. He sits up, squints, and almost gasps.
That’s enough Hydroweed for you to last a night under the ocean. 
He’s about to stop you, when you ingest it all in one go.
The second you convulse, he pushes you back into the ocean, your gasp of relief second to only his bruising kiss completely devouring your mouth. 
Your legs wrap around his waist, and your back meets the ocean floor again. This time, you take the lead, rolling him off to straddle his waist again. 
Rafayel glances at you, gorgeous pastel eyes hooded. 
He notices how comfortable you’re getting underwater; how easy it is for you to scoot down his torso, your playful smirk making his cock and heartstrings throb. 
“Baby—” he mumbles, only to be cut off by the sight of you kissing his bulbous tip.
Rafayel isn’t a believer of god per say (coming from his own experience as a retired sea deity), but at the sight of your pretty lips skimming his merman tip, he thinks he could give religion another shot. 
What’re you doing? His whisper carries across the currents.
Ssh, you hush him, rimming the tip of your tongue around his flushed head. You don’t miss how his tail twitches, cock now painfully at full mast. 
Isn’t it obvious? You mumble, kissing the tip reverently. I want to taste my Lemurian's pretty cock.
He seizes, back arching, putty in your hands when you take him down as deep as your little throat allows. 
What else you couldn’t fit, you used your hands to jack up and down.
Soft hisses slip past his clenched teeth. “You’re driving me crazy, baby.”
Mhm, you slur, flickering your hazy, fucked out gaze to his flushed face. Tastes so good, you whisper, and Rafayel was glad the ocean didn’t show the line of drool that usually trickles down your jaw; your fucked out expression which would make his control snap instantly. 
You would need to consume at least three more mouthfuls of Hydroweed before he was fully done with you. 
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Luckily, Thomas’ yacht came with some fluffy towels.
Rafayel had wrapped you in one while he laid the other under your back; content to curl his tail around you, still in his Lemurian form. The honeywood deck was warm to the touch, the balmy evening offering comfort and respite from hours underneath the cold, dark ocean. 
“So…” he quips, not one for stewing in silence. “Questions? Thoughts? Comments?” 
You fight back a smile. 
“Was there really eggs put up inside of me? Swore I felt a lot of round and hard things sloshing inside.”
“That… would be my tip.” Rafayel flicks your nose when you scoff. “On a scale of one to ten, how freaked out would you be if I said I did actually put some eggs up in your body and it had to be fertilized so the rest would start falling out of you like gelatinous goo until the only one takes?” 
You blink. “Pretty freaked out, if I’m being honest.”
“So… a nine?” 
“More like—” you lifted your hand and made a so-so motion. “—a six, at best. I’m kinda used to your bullshit by now, babe.” 
“Hey!” Rafayel tugs on the ends of your hair, making you laugh. Growing serious now, he murmurs, “So, you’re absolutely fine with being knocked up with a half-Lemurian kid?” 
“Depends,” you mumble mildly. “Am I the first one you’re doing this with?”
Barely missing a beat, he nodded. “The only one. Never had time to sleep around. Always busy running a kingdom. Blah-blah. Typical God of the Sea stuff. No biggie.”
“Aw,” you coo, “I’m so honored you waited for me.” 
You expected him to scoff or roll his eyes, not lapse into a serious quietness. Rafayel’s silence stretched on, and you perched your jaw on his shoulder.
“Hey. Penny for your thoughts?” 
“Hmm.” Rafayel tugs you closer, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his cheek. His lips are inches apart from yours, warm breath touching your parted mouth. You taste him on your tongue, invigorating yet comforting.
A well-worn sign of home. 
“Just that I would do it all over again. Wait for you, I mean. Even if it takes a long, long time.”
A few centimeters and 800 years stand between the two of you. 
But, for tonight, you breach the distance and kiss him, grateful that you had been given this cherished memory together with Rafayel.
— rbs and feedback are appreciated !!
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©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or translate my work across other platforms.
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leagueofdccm · 5 months ago
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( Credit ) // JOE KESSLER PLAYLIST PART 1 / ??
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proneterror204 · 6 months ago
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Fear vs Fear
Danny was doing homework when Fright knight came to him.
FK: I would like your permission to go out on a Quest.
DP: Why are you asking me?
FK: You are the Guardian of the portal, a keeper of balance, and may be the next ghost king. So i ask your leave.
DP: What is this quest?
FK: It has come to my attention that there is a energy entity out in the stars who claims to be the emotional embodiment of fear and is powering this "Sinestro Corps" to do heinious deeds in the name of fear and terror. I seek to eliminate this corps and give this "Parallax" a beating and a lesson in true fear.
DP: Parallax sounds like a pharmaceutical drug or a laxative.
FK: Fear work well as a laxative. Your friend Tucker knows this very well.
DP: I thought you were the embodiment of fear?
FK: I AM.
DP: OK permission uh granted i guess.
Fright Knight bows then turns to go but is interrupted.
DP: oh and Fright knight?
FK: Hmm?
DP: win.
FK: of course.
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crownedwithstars · 4 months ago
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That's kind of the point of the story of Fëanor, though. If it's unacceptable, it's because tragedies usually are. Fëanor's corruption, the way all his potential goes to waste because he won't let go of the Silmarils, tracks with Tolkien's themes of hubris, the Fall, and how power corrupts, and it's so compelling because he could have chosen to save himself but wouldn't. He chooses/prioritises his property over giving back to the society that nurtured him in its darkest hour, his own sons' lives, his family, and the lives of Teleri. Let him be awful! Let him be greedy! Let him go down in a blaze of infamy! Fëanor is nothing if not extra.
Moreover, I'm not sure where the idea comes that, prior to the Kinslaying, Fëanor's property is treated as public or that his right is undermined. What actually happens is that Yavanna declares the Silmarils are the only thing that could still restore the Trees, Fëanor is asked - asked, not demanded - if he would give them up (the only one forceful in this scene is Tulkas but he is redressed by Aulë), he says no, and the Valar accept his decision. As the one who made the Trees in the beginning and thus making it possible for the Silmarils to be made in the first place, Yavanna does have a right to ask, and indeed she does nothing but state what it would take to restore the Trees. Considering the Trees are not only what sustains life in Valinor but are also such powerful cultural and maybe even spiritual symbols that their images continue to be reproduced and adopted as standards even by people who never saw the actual living Trees, and how their loss is mourned even thousands of years later, the Valar have no choice but to at least ask if Fëanor will permit them to be restored, otherwise they are doing wrong against everyone else who lives in Valinor. Obviously, the question about giving up the Silmarils could have been posed in a much kinder way, but considering Fëanor's state of mind at this point, the tone and wording of the question would not have mattered.
Like I said in a previous post, Thingol and the Dwarves (and of course Morgoth) fall prey to that same spell of lust for the Silmarils, and I think this also proves that possessing even one of them is more than anyone except maybe Eärendil can handle. I'd wager at this point the Valar know this too, because what do they do when a Silmaril comes to Valinor? They set it up in the sky, where it will be forever beyond everyone's reach but can still be seen and appreciated as a memory of the Light that was before. (Also I don't think they ever lost interest in Middle-earth or that it was restored specifically by the Silmaril: their hands were tied by the Oath and the Doom of the Noldor. They can't and won't interfere with free will or its consequences, which the Exile and all following events is. I think they are allowed finally to intervene because Eärendil was built in as a fail-safe by Ilúvatar, as an anti-Fëanor so to speak.)
I also have to disagree with the idea that the narrative associates power with morality. If anything, Tolkien's message is about how power corrupts. Also stuff could be said whether one can ever satisfactorily apply modern day morals or property law to a text supposedly describing difficult moral questions of a very ancient, hierarchical and alien society where divine and satanic powers are not only proven facts but actual active forces and the nature of the world is recognised as fundamentally Marred.
As for what is the payoff for Fëanor giving up the Silmarils, if restoring the Trees is not good enough? Saving his soul.
Not going to lie, I find it weird and off-putting when people characterize Feanor (& sons) desire to reclaim the silmarils as 'greed'. Like.
Is it greedy to want your own shit back? Like is it outrageous to try to reclaim your own property that has been stolen AT MINIMUM once, and in one case twice, and in the ultimate end stolen and then subsequently taken as war booty by a neglegent if not outright hostile force? Is 'greed' the word you really want to use? Is that a word you would use you you translated the situation into something of your own? If someone stole your bike, or your wallet, or a piece of art that you made, and you expected it to be returned to you... would you want to be called 'greedy' for that?
idk there's just something weird about wanting to reclaim objects that are both a) important representations of calaquendi noldor culture and craft and b) a literal embodiment of the divine light that recalls better being described as excessive and unreasonable that rubs me the wrong way.
Just to be clear: I am not endorsing acts of violence to meet the above goals! But 'greed' does not denote excessive force or unjust means! It denotes unjust desire. Characterizing Feanor's drive to reclaim the silmarils as greed means that the desire itself is unjustifiable or unreasonable.
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natalievoncatte · 6 months ago
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“Kara?”
She doesn’t answer. Lena’s presence doesn’t surprise her; Kara Danvers always knows where Lena Luthor is, at least as long as there’s a way for the sound of her heart to find Kara’s ears, no matter how soft or faint it might be. In her ruminations Kara thinks on that before she speaks. Even when they were at their worst, when they were hurting each other in every way that mattered, Kara would stop and listen.
It was a secret and sacred thing, a transgression that she would never admit. She would confess to scoping Lena out with her x-ray vision first. She’d never actually done that, but she’d pretend-admit before confessing that, sometimes, she’d listen to Lena’s heart as she slept and drift off to its slow and steady beat.
They’re by the sea, at the Danvers family home. It’s been a year since Alex and Kelly married and a small, core group have gathered here in this house by the waves to celebrate the anniversary. It’s just Alex and Kelly of course and Esme, and Lena and Kara. And Eliza.
She lives here, after all.
Nia and Brainy are in town in an AirBnB, and they’ve been by the house but are mostly doing their own thing. They’ll marry soon, Kara thinks. They have that air about them, the way that Alex and Kelly did before the proposal.
There is a sense of finality to it all that has fallen over Kara like the shadow of a passing storefront, and she sits where she can watch the ocean waves roll in, chin propped on arms resting on knees, curled up and watching the waves reach the high water mark and roll back.
Lena stands beside her now, seemingly unconcerned that Kara hasn’t answered her. This happens a lot now. There are companionable silences. Lena spends half her days in Kara’s home, working from a laptop on Kara’s kitchen counter while Kara writes at the kitchen table.
A lot has happened. Cat Grant offered her the role of EIC at CatCo; Kara rejected it. She’d mad furtive plans to reveal her identity, then canceled them. She’d told Cat but asked that it end there and Cat had respected it, then gone on an esoteric retreat at an eel farm or… something. Kara still submitted articles to CatCo but on a freelance basis, and she was submitting more articles elsewhere lately.
Actually, very little had happened. Kara had more time to really write, now. She put on her suit and flew out the window less and less, being less needed.
Lena sits down next to her and assumes a similar pose. Kara can’t help but look at her; she has never been able to resist looking at Lena Luthor. That too has changed. She doesn’t steal a glance this time, she studies, lets her gaze linger. She looks at the way the light of the golden hour plays with Lena’s soft, easy beauty. Her sort-of-roommate skipped putting on makeup this morning and her hair is down in a mop of air-dried dark curls, some of them lazily riding the breeze around her head. Some of it falls across her face and Kara fights the urge to sweep it back with a soft brush of her fingers.
Lena is beautiful. The warm light makes her pale skin glow, brings out the sparkle in her blue-green eyes, as deep as the sea they watch. There is a soft playful hint of a smile on her lips, but her brows are furrowed.
Kara thinks back to the last time she spoke to J’onn. She told the man, the closest thing she had left to a father in the world, about how she was wearing the cape less and working more, about Lena, about how Alex and Kelly seemed to be moving on, both of them now retired from the insanity of her lives and Alex actually planning to practice medicine.
“That’s what happens,” J’onn told her. “Things pass. Stories end. The great deeds are done, the archenemies vanquished, the miracles all performed. After that is just life.”
Kara wasn’t sure what that meant. In her life -almost sixty years, that she’d experienced as less than thirty- she’d packed in the experiences of a hundred lifetimes. She’d watched her world die, found her family, lost them, made a new one. She’d loved and lost and she’d even died- twice. She’d spent two eternities in her own personal hell.
Kara lets out a slow sigh. She’s still looking at Lena.
They have to have this conversation. Kara just doesn’t know what to say or how to say it. The problem is obvious. Lena and Kara had arrived this morning a few hours after Kelly and Alex, and found that Eliza had, as to be expected, already planned out who was bunking where.
“Alex and Kelly have Alex’s old room,” Eliza had told them, after hugging Lena. “Esme has Kara’s old room, and you and Lena can take the guest bedroom.”
When the words left her foster mother’s mouth, Kara’s heart raced. If Lena thought anything of it, she gave no sign. Kara was on the verge of panic.
Eliza had given the two of them a room with one bed. A small room, a shared room that would give two people no privacy.
Does she think we’re…?
Kara had considered the possibility before. She wasn’t blind or oblivious to a fluttering heart beat or lip bites or long stares, but…
“I’m scared,” Kara says, and she looks away.
She can feel Lena looking at her, gaze unwavering.
“What about?”
Kara swallows hard. She doesn’t know if Lena realizes what Eliza has assumed yet, if she’s put it together. She must have, because she came out here looking for Kara. Kara hadn’t run away exactly, but she had fled. She needed to think.
“One thing I’ve learned,” Kara says, “is that once you say something, you can’t un-say it. You can’t change the truth once it’s been told.”
Lena nods softly. She knows. They learned the same lesson from the same cruel trick.
“Do you know why I held on to my secret for so long?”
“You always said it was to protect me, and I didn’t accept that. Then when…” Lena pauses heavily, “when we moved on, I never really asked again.”
Kara swallows. “I lied. I did it for me.”
Lena says nothing.
“I was scared. I was afraid that once I told you, it would be the same with you as it was with everyone else. Once people know Kara is Supergirl, then Kara stops being Kara. Kara is just Supergirl’s real name.”
Kara’s breath hitches. She glances at Lena, who watches intently.
“I was wrong. I should have known better. I should have trusted you.”
“Yes,” said Lena. “You should have. I should have tried to understand you. To understand why instead of projecting my own insecurities onto your choice. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I forgave you.”
Waves crash in the silence.
“I would forgive you anything.”
“Even beating the last potsticker?”
“I’m serious, Lena.”
Lena sighs. “Are we going to talk about it?”
“You saw the room.”
Lena nods.
“Your mom seems to be assuming that we share a bed,” Lena says.
Kara swallows hard.
“The last time I was with Nia, she asked when I’m selling the penthouse, because she assumed I’ve been planning to move into your loft.”
Kara groped her knees because her hands are shaking. She grips her knees to stop them but it makes her legs shake instead.
Lena shifts closer, scooting across the grass. She’s not touching Kara but it feels like she is. Her touch becomes and threatens. They share space, the sea breeze passing over them as one. Lena looks at her through a tangle of inky curls and her eyes are infinite, searching Kara for something.
“I have deemed a dream,” Kara whispers. “I fear if I dream it too deeply I’ll suddenly wake, and when I wake it’ll be gone the way dreams always are, and it will fade as fast as any dream. The thought of losing it hurts so bad it makes it feel like my chest is caving in.”
Kara looks at Lena now. She looks so young, she is young. Her power suits and makeup and air of command and defiance all make her seem almost matronly but here with Kara that mask is gone and beneath it is her true self, her secret self that not even their friends see, a young girl who’s never been young.
Just like Kara.
“What if you woke up and the dream came true?”
“Sometimes,” Kara admits, “I wonder if you’re real. I used to dream of things when I floated in my pod and they seemed so real…”
“It’s real, Kara,” Lena whispers, soft and breathy. “It’s real and I’m not going anywhere. Nothing has to change. It’s just going to evolve. I know what you want to say and I’ve been scared of it too. What you’re saying, I can feel it in my soul… when the Luthors took me in, I used to dream that my mom was alive. I’d wake up smelling breakfast and hearing her sing and when I realized it was just a dream it was like she died again every morning.”
“I love you.”
Lena stares at her. Kara hears Lena’s steady pulse flutter and begins to stammer.
“I know I’ve said it before. I mean I’m in love with-“
Lena presses a finger to her lips.
“I know. Stop telling me and show me.”
Kara freezes, not sure what she meant. Lena twisted languidly and leaned towards her. Kara freezes briefly and then just lets go, moving on instinct. Using a little strength she pulls Lena into her lap, gently touches her chin, and tilts her back a touch, to kiss her.
It is at once tentative and soft and absolutely explosive. Kara forces back tears, as Lena embraces her with all her strength, molding herself to Kara as if she means to climb inside her. For all her urgency, her kiss is just as delicate, just as tender and exploratory.
It is as it has always been. They compliment each other perfectly, moving together without a word needed, Kara breaks the kiss because Lena needs air and lowers her to the grass, fully on top of her now, brushing lose strands of hair back from her face to kiss her again and again and again, each kiss ah apology, each brushing of lips a lament for time lost.
They could have been doing this for years.
Lena arches under her, grinding hungrily, kissing her furiously. She moans softly as Kara’s hands find bare skin and Kara murmurs a Kryptonian prayer against her lips, and her thighs rise to bracket Kara’s hips.
Kara feels it all. The desire, the lust, the need, and above all the unbridled joy. This is no dream. It’s real. It’s happening. It’s…
“Eww,” Alex says.
Kara snaps up, acutely aware that her hand is halfway up Lena’s now-askew top, and that Lena has leg-locked them together. Lena lets her head fall back and peers up at Alex.
“Eliza sent me to find you two. Dinner is ready,” Alex sighs, then turns, muttering,
“Get a room. Sheesh.”
Lena cracks first, unleashing a gale of laughter.
“Let me go,” she protests.
Kara lets her…. briefly. Play-wrestling ensues, and Lena just know that Kara is letting her win as they roll in the grass, but it no longer matters. Lena is flushed and grass-stained and joy burns her in her eyes and-
“Come on!” Alex bellows.
Kara helps her up, and they head for the house.
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ordowrites · 4 months ago
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what dating them is like (HSR)
characters: aventurine, argenti, jing yuan
cw: none / gn!reader, use of pet names ("darling"), some fluff. general mdni, minors do not interact. self indulgent. possible ooc? i don't think i've written HSR before so i hope i got them okay.
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aventurine will always find excuses, ways, and time to spend time with you. he talks more, with you around and feels less on edge. your smile brightens his day, every day, and even in the middle of the night, he will text you. if you can't sleep, well, he's on his way with some expensive wine and a movie of your choice. spending time with you is one of his love languages, but don't be surprised if you find yourself on the receiving end of some pretty expensive gifts.
("think nothing of it, darling, i thought that those jewels would match your eyes and i was right.")
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the man of beauty is nothing less of romantic, perhaps, there's even a picture of him next to the word in the dictionary. argenti shows up when he can, wherever he can. you get good morning texts, long winded messages throughout the day, pictures of the cosmos and good night texts. people believe this to be lonely, but you never feel alone. argenti is a beautiful man, and a wonderful lover.
when he is with you, there is not a second that goes by where you are alone. when he is with you, he clings to you, holds you as close as possible, kissing you, and making sure you feel worshipped. words of affirmation is what keeps him going.
("in all the cosmos, there is nothing more beautiful than you. idrila has blessed me with your presence, and i will never take that for granted.")
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jing yuan gives you the best of the best, always. the general makes sure you are safe, but you have your freedom and your life outside of him. one of the things he does, however, is tease you. and he teases you often. sometimes it's to get you to blush, other times, it's to make you giggle.
laid back and calm, you are able to talk to your hearts content about the things that bother you. he gives advice, he listens, and you always feel heard.
there is a tenderness when he gently cups your face in his rough hands, peering down into your eyes, and kisses you. he never asks but he never takes, he wants but always waits for you to guide. he is a physical man and the tenderness always betrays his title, his past, his former deeds.
you are his and he will make sure you feel protected and secure.
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