#he did say expansion jesus christ
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magicalqueennightmare · 11 months ago
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The Hybrid's Little Witch
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Klaus Mikaelson x Reader
Just a one shot of Klaus and his little witch giving into their feelings
Fluffy (ish) smut
“Don't you fucking turn your back on me!” You were so angry you were nearly shaking. You could feel your powers rolling just under your skin, threatening to slip out but you maintained your hold on it, telling yourself no matter the anger you held that the hybrid in front of you was indeed friend not foe. 
Klaus spun to face you and a part of you was surprised to have blue eyes looking back at you. You'd expected the golden eyes of his beast to be looking back at you. “Why are you even still in New Orleans? You did your job little witch. Hayley and Hope are safe, any coven that was a threat to them have been eliminated”
“I don't answer to you Klaus and you don't own New Orleans. Hayley called me here to help protect her daughter or are you forgetting she's one third witch? She needs someone here to help with all aspects of who she is as she grows and Freya shouldn't be forced to stay in one place. I'm not leaving”
In a single heartbeat he was in front of you, hands on either side of your head effectively boxing you in if you didn't want to use your powers on him. A portion of your brain registered the fact that you had a wall at your back and a hybrid in front of you but the majority of your brain refused to cower. 
He wanted anger, wanted rage, you'd give it to him. While it was true things had calmed down but after everything you knew being complacent was a mistake. He leaned down close enough that his lips nearly brushed your ear as he spoke “Her daughter? Are you forgetting that Hope is my daughter as well?” 
You turned to look at him noticing how close your faces were before raising your chin defiantly to look him dead in the eye “and are you forgetting the number of times I've risked my life to ensure she was born, to ensure she stays alive and healthy? I'm owed a little slack even from you”
Damn him a smirk slipped onto his face as he said “Is that it little witch? You think I haven't shown you proper respect?” The last year came crashing down onto you at that moment, every time you'd faced a new threat, every moment you'd swallowed the pain so Hayley wouldn't know what protecting her and Hope was doing to you and every ounce of loneliness you'd felt your entire life mixed in with your anger. Anger that was now pointed at Klaus whether it was earned or not.
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Your magic uncurled without you having to think about it and he stumbled back from you as if he'd been tased, hand splayed out across his chest. You felt a surge of pride mixed with a tiny bit of tension leaving your shoulders despite knowing you may very well be about to fight with the father of your best friend's child, the hybrid you were so damn attracted to yet refused to act on it.
“You haven't Klaus. I've done nothing but fight for your family since the moment I stepped foot in New Orleans. Yet you walk around like I'm a pet Hayley picked up and dragged home. I may not be as old as your family but I've seen hundreds of years pass. I could be anywhere in the world and I chose to be here. I get it, your past dealings with witches have been shit but I'm owed the respect I've earned even if you fucking hate me”
He rubbed his chest a moment and your eyes flickered towards the length of skin that showed from the unbuttoned henley, the long expanse of his neck and the curve of his collarbone distracting you. Jesus christ, the reasoning behind Hayley getting pregnant was crystal clear but you and he were hardly friends. He hated witches and that's what you were.
Another smirk slipped onto his face and he shook his head “That's where you're wrong, love. I don't hate you”  you scoffed not letting your guard down but curious as well “How am I wrong?” He took a step towards you and you shook your head so he stopped, holding both hands up to say he wasn't coming any closer. “I don't hate you. Quite the opposite in fact”
You let just enough of your magic seep out to make the air in the room thicken just slightly “Cut the shit Klaus and say what you mean” he looked you up and down before running his thumb across his bottom lip “I've been trying to ignore how much I want my child's Godmother” 
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You felt your stomach flip “What?” He shrugged “You're beautiful, Intelligent, lovely with Hope. The fact that you're absolutely dangerous just adds to the allure. Hell if Elijah hadn't fallen for Hayley and Kol wasn't head over heels for a witch himself I'd have to fight them for your attention more so than I do as you being their friend”
“So, what baiting me into argument after argument was your form of flirting?” You zapped him again from pure frustration and he growled before moving faster than any other vampire you'd seen. He had you backed against a wall with your arms pinned over your head and was staring into your eyes “Tell me one time you don't want me as much as I want you little witch. That's all it takes” 
Your chest was heaving like you'd run a marathon and you knew he could hear your heartbeat but in that moment you didn't care to be embarrassed of it. He was right, you wanted him. “And if I do want you?” You asked with a slight smile. He returned your smile before saying “Then I do this” he caught your lips in a bruising kiss, flicking his tongue against yours and swallowing the moan that the action pulled out of you.
You struggled to free your hands but his grip held tight. He pulled back to look at your eyes “Tell me what you want” you swallowed twice before saying “I want you to fuck me Klaus, hard” the smile he gave you made heat shoot straight to your stomach “Thought you'd never ask” in one fluid motion he released your hands and scooped you up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. 
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You hooked your arms around his neck and he moved from your lips down across your jaw then to the sensitive flesh of your neck. He rolled his hips against yours and a gasp left you at feeling his hardening cock through the layers of jeans between it and your sensitive core. When he bit down just below your pulse point you moaned, fingers digging into his shoulders “Bed Klaus. You're not fucking me against a door dammit”
He chuckled against your skin “See? That dominating side of you. Can't wait to have you begging underneath me” You glared at him “I swear on everything” in a blur of movement he was up on the stairs and in his bedroom kicking the door shut with his foot then putting you down on your feet but backing you against the door in the same fluid motion. 
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He was everywhere, lips and teeth teasing your neck and jaw, hands roaming across what of your body he could reach while his hips rutted into yours pulling low moans from you at the action.  One hand slid up to wrap around your throat as his mouth claimed yours. Your hands found his chest, clawing at his shirt, begging for more access to him “Eager are we?” He teased before leaning back from you enough to pull his shirt over his head and tossed it behind him. 
He reached for your shirt but stopped with his hands just shy of it. He glanced at your face for permission and the moment you nodded he pulled the shirt over your head and a grin slipped onto his face that made your knees weaken “Oh I'm going to enjoy this”  another quick kiss to your lips then he moved to your neck, biting down on the spot he previously had which made you moan his name.
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Instead of stopping he continued down, when he got to your still clothed breasts he reached behind you with one hand. You felt the clasp give before your bra was pulled from your body and tossed somewhere in the room. He reached for one of your breasts, teasing the nipple between his fingertips. Your breath was already coming in fast pants. It'd been a little too long since you had sex and the feelings that the hybrid was bringing out of you with so little action so far was a bit alarming.
When he lowered his mouth to the other one, your back arched off the door. He barely grazed your nipple with his teeth but you felt your legs quiver. “Love, when was the last time someone touched you? Other than your own hands?” He murmured and you closed your eyes in an attempt to slow your breathing “Before I came to New Orleans”
You half expected to see teasing in his eyes when you opened yours but instead there was a hunger there “Then I'll have to make sure you're satisfied” you weren't sure what he meant before he sank to his knees in front of you. “Klaus” you tried to find your voice but he simply tapped your left leg “Lift your foot”
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Within moments your boots and jeans were off your body leaving you in just a simple pair of black lace panties. “May I?” He asked and you nodded. He slid them off your legs and smiled up at you and gods the heat that flooded throughout your body at that moment could've torched the states between Louisiana and the Atlantic. 
He dropped one of your legs over his shoulders before his head dipped between your thighs. The first swipe of his tongue was tentative, testing. When your fingers burying themselves in his hair was the answer he dove in. He was like a man starved and he meant to devour you to feed the hunger. 
When his teeth grazed your clit you would've collapsed had it not been for his grip on you “Oh fuck Klaus” he added two fingers in with his tongue, curling them up to add pressure to that spot deep inside of you and that was all it took to push you over that edge. The burst of pleasure made your vision go soft around the edges. He worked you through your orgasm and only let up when you begged softly “Please Klaus, too much. Too much” 
He rocked back on his heels, keeping two fingers inside of you to tease at your still sensitive clit “Already begging? I thought more of you” you knew your words would fall flat considering your legs were shaking but you still felt the need to say “Fuck you Klaus”
He buried his fingers to the knuckles and you moaned loudly “I believe that's where we're headed love” he pulled his fingers out and held your gaze as he sucked them into his mouth, rolling his tongue around them “Heavenly”
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He stood and when he got to his feet he picked you up, leaving you no choice but to wrap your still shaking legs around his slim waist. He walked over to the bed and laid you down almost gingerly. You looked up and realized he was still wearing jeans “You're overdressed Mikaelson” he grinned “Then by all means, come relieve me of them”
You sat up and moved to the end of the bed, pulling him to you by the front of his jeans. You made quick work of the zipper, pushing them off his hips. He helped you kick them off along with his boots. He was left in a pair of black boxers and the way his cock was straining against the material made your mouth water. “Take what you want” he spoke and you slid your hand below the waistband of his boxers, wrapping around his hard cock.
He groaned lightly as you began to stroke him. When you pushed his boxers down to be able to lick a strip from the base of his cock up to the head, rolling your tongue around to collect the beads of precum leaking out. 
You sank your mouth down on him, taking as much of him as you could. When he hit the back of your throat you twisted your tongue around him as you worked your mouth.  You could feel his hips tense and knew he was trying to hold back from thrusting into your mouth. He spoke your name twice before stepping back to pull himself free of your lips. 
—-------------
“Get in the bed” you scooted up to the pillows and he smiled, wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking it lazily as he took in the sight of you laid out completely bared in his bed. He licked his lips then climbed into the bed. 
There was almost an animalistic quality to him, a predator finally catching his prey. He started at your hips and worked his way up your body. You knew even with your healing you'd still be littered with marks from his lips for a day or two and something stirred inside you at the thought of carrying marks from Klaus. 
When he got to your mouth he caught your lips in a bruising kiss that made your fingers bury into his hair. You felt his hard cock against your inner thigh and pulled back from the kiss “Fuck me already Klaus” 
His hand slipped between you and you felt the head of his cock teasing at your entrance before he sank himself inside of you. The feeling of him stretching you caused you to close your eyes tightly. Klaus wasn't exactly small. After a moment the stretch gave way to pleasure. 
He peppered kisses across your jaw and chest until you opened your eyes and met his. He took that as a go ahead and pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back into you. You gasped and he grinned. “You wanted it hard little witch?”
You nodded “Please” he chuckled and rolled his hips in a tight circle, watching your face as he did so. “Quit teasing Hybrid” you warned and he nodded before setting a punishing pace.
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You were so damn close to that edge and wanted nothing more than to fall over but Klaus slowed his pace forcing your eyes to fly open “What the fuck?” He shrugged “You want to come, keep your eyes on me little witch. I want to watch you fall apart” 
You nodded after a moment and he resumed the pace he knew you liked and when his fingers slipped between you to rub tight circles on your clit it took everything in you to keep your eyes open “Let me feel it” you felt that pressure burst and fell over that edge, your eyes watering in an urge to close them against the pleasure rolling through you. 
You could feel his hips falter slightly and knew he was close. He buried his face into your neck and you felt his fangs tease the skin there, not biting but just applying enough pressure to make you clench around him as he came burying himself deep inside of you. 
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When he drew back he smirked at you before catching your lips in one final kiss before pulling out of you. He moved to lay down next to you and pulled you over on his chest. “What now?” You asked once your breathing had returned to normal “Well this by far more enjoyable than fighting” 
You raised your eyes to him and laughed “Are you really proposing we start fucking regularly?” He shrugged “I want you, you apparently want me. Come on love it doesn't have to be some epic meant to be thing but this was enjoyable for us both and we have to get along for Hayley and Hope's sake” 
You shook your head and started to laugh but it turned into a yawn. “Get some sleep” he urged and even though you knew you should leave you found your eyes drifting shut. You were satisfied, warm and like it or not safe in Klaus’ arms.
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foggieststars · 7 days ago
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sex pollen + overstim and/or denial for landoscar queen?
"Jesus fuck," Lando says, and Oscar glares at him with baleful eyes. Lando takes affront to that. If anything, Lando reckons he's sort of underreacting to the whole, finding his teammate slumped nearly-unconscious outside the door of his flat, thing.
"Are you - I mean. Y'alright?" Lando asks, heartbeat loud in his ears. Oscar's got sweat pouring off him, like he's just finished 62 laps of Singapore. His hair's clumped together with sweat, stringy and
"Of course I'm not alright," Oscar snaps, and - that’s new. 
Lando blinks, unsure what to make of Oscar like this. It’s the most tense Lando’s ever seen him - the most genuinely irritated. Even after Carlos took him out of the race in Spa last year, the most emotion Oscar had shown was the tightly clenched fists in his lap during the debrief. Seeing Oscar like this… it’s an uncomfortable display of vulnerability. 
“What’s happened to you?” Lando asks, reaching out to offer Oscar a hand. “Why are you–?” here, he doesn’t say. Figures it’d be rude. Make Oscar think he’s like, unwelcome or something. 
“I dunno,” Oscar says, breathing heavily. “I was opening some fucking - oh, fuck,” he says, doubling over. Lando fumbles in his pocket for his keys, unlocks the door with clumsy, trembling hands. “I was opening some fanmail, for some stupid fucking video, and one of them had all this powder in it, and it got all over my hands, and I started feeling - like this.” 
“Oh, christ,” Lando says, mind whirring. Can people send, like, drugs in the post? Drugs that only need to touch your skin to activate? Lando tries not to panic too obviously, wants to stay calm for Oscar. Who’s crawled here, for some reason. 
“Fuck, Osc,” Lando gnaws on his lip, shutting the door behind them. When he reaches out to steady Oscar, swaying on the spot, his skin is searingly hot to the touch. “I reckon you need to go to the hospital, mate.” 
“Dunno where it is, do I?” Oscar snaps. “And besides. I don’t think… I don’t think I need a hospital. Not for this.” 
Lando nearly shrieks, panic turning his hands clammy. “Oscar, you just told me that you - that you’ve touched some random fucking powder, and now you’re here, sweating buckets on my doorstep. Of course you need to go to the hospital!” 
Oscar lurches dangerously to the side as Lando’s speaking, and Lando reaches out to grab him. One hand finds Oscar’s forearm, pulls him in close to his body. The other hand lands on Oscar’s waist, trailing around to his stomach. 
“Oh,” Oscar moans, swaying into Lando this time. 
“What hurts? Your stomach?” Lando babbles, scrabbling with the hem of Oscar’s top. “It might be your appendix or something, you know?” 
When he gets Oscar’s top up, exposing the smooth expanse of his stomach, Lando presses his hand to it. He doesn’t know what the fuck he thinks he’s looking for - like he’ll be able to feel Oscar’s appendix about to rupture - and then Oscar makes another noise. It’s low and sharp and unmistakably aroused. 
“Osc?” Lando probes, and then Oscar’s doubling over, moaning louder, and his hips - well, oh Jesus, he’s fucking forward into the air, like he’s got his cock in someone. 
The movement continues for what feels like forever, but is probably no longer than ten seconds, and then Oscar slumps over, like a marionette with its strings cut. 
“Oh my god,” Lando says, hating the way his voice has gone all high-pitched. “Did you just–?” 
Oscar groans, still bent double at the waist. “‘M sorry,” he grits out, voice hoarse. His cheeks are stained pink. “Fuck, Lando. I’m so sorry.” 
“When you said - when you said you didn’t need a hospital…”
Oscar looks at him, eyes shining. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and nods. “Ever since I touched that stuff - I don’t know. I just - I can’t stop.” 
Lando’s brain goes offline at the mental image of Oscar, alone in his flat, jerking himself off frantically, again and again and again. 
“And - so. You came here?” Lando queries, voice tremulous. 
Oscar looks at him with a pained expression. “I want. Will you - help?” 
Lando feels like he’s teetering on the precipice of something massive. There’s been tension between them since Oscar arrived. Lando never acted on it. He’d sworn to himself - this would be the teammate he doesn’t let fuck him. Oscar’s always respected that unspoken decision; never pushed too hard, never made so much as the tiniest of moves. Even though Lando knows he feels it just as urgently - the intangible thing shimmering between them. Seems like Oscar’s finally reached his breaking point. 
Lando steadies himself with a deep breath. “Alright, Oscar. I’ll help.” 
*
Five minutes later find them in Lando’s unmade bed, shirts off, Lando fiddling with the drawstring of Oscar’s shorts. Shorts - in December. Lando barely resists the urge to tease him about it, thinks it might be just too much for Oscar right now. 
When he finally gets them down around Oscar’s ankles, Lando doesn’t feel much like joking any longer. 
“Fuck, Osc,” Lando says, looking down at the mess. “You came so much.” 
His cock is an angry shade of red, so hard it’s resting against his stomach. There’s a mess of drying come in Oscar’s boxers, a testament to how many times he’d gotten himself off before coming to seek out Lando’s help. It must hurt. Lando’s never come this many times in one session - not even when he was a horny teenager with no refractory period. 
Oscar pants, arm thrown across his eyes, nods. Didn’t even bother to clean himself up. Needed it that badly. 
“How many times did you–?” 
Oscar makes a quiet noise, like he’s embarrassed to admit to it. “I - Lando,” he rasps, hips hitching as Lando takes his hot cock in hand. It’s pulsing gently, weeping pre-come when Lando thumbs over the tip.
“Come on,” Lando pushes, unsure why he can’t resist the urge to tease. Why he never can. “I won’t tell anyone. Swear.” 
Who’s Lando gunna tell, exactly? Max wouldn’t even believe him. 
“F-four,” Oscar says, moaning when Lando twists his wrist. “Lando, fuck, I’m - so close.” 
“Already?” Lando asks, laughing despite himself. “I’m not even - oh.” 
That’s all it takes to have Oscar spilling all over Lando’s hand, hips kicking into the air. It’s scorchingly hot. 
“Jesus,” Lando says, and Oscar throws his other arm across his face too. Like if he buries himself deep enough, this will all go away. “I barely even touched you!” 
“I know,” Oscar says, seemingly more lucid immediately post-orgasm. “It - the powder shit. It doesn’t take much to - y’know. Makes everything feel… louder.” 
Alright, maybe not so lucid after all. 
“Does it hurt?” Lando asks, and Oscar nods. Doesn’t seem to stop his cock filling up again, straining with desperation. Oscar finally brings his arms down from his face, more flushed than ever. 
He’s so - vulnerable, like this. Like Lando could do anything to him, anything at all, and he’d just lie there and shudder through it, small, bitten-off moans spilling from his mouth. It’s a thought that shouldn’t turn Lando on as much as it does. 
Lando gets Oscar off again with his hands, once with his mouth. Oscar starts fully crying when Lando sucks on the head of his cock, and Lando’s never really been one to get, like, turned on by tears, but - well. It’s Oscar, so. 
“You okay?” Lando asks, sitting up, wiping off his chin. “I don’t wanna like, hurt you or nothing.” 
“It’s just - it’s a lot,” Oscar hiccups, chest heaving. “Feels so - I dunno how to explain. I’m all… tingly.” 
Lando finishes him off, sits back on his heels to give Oscar a short break. He leans forward, rests the back of his palm on Oscar’s forehead. It feels absurdly domestic - weirdly maternal, actually - but he’s even hotter than before, if anything. 
“I don’t know if this is helping,” Lando says, watching Oscar ball his fists into Lando’s duvet, trying not to hump the air. “You’re like, properly burning up. Should I call someone?” he hesitates. “Mark?” 
“No!” Oscar practically shouts, hands flying up to grip Lando’s wrists, like he’s in any fit state to physically wrestle a phone out of Lando’s grasp. Like Lando would even have Mark’s number saved. He’d have to call Jenson probably, and then that would be a whole thing. “Not Mark. Not - okay.” Oscar blows out air, ruffles his fringe. “I think. I think you’re gonna have to…” 
Lando raises his eyebrows, not following Oscar’s deluded train of thought. 
Oscar groans, half-twists his body to bury his face in the pillows. He takes a couple of deep breaths, and Lando watches the muscles in his back twitch and flex. 
When Oscar rolls back, he’s calmer. More measured. And then, as if it’s normal, as if this is something teammates do with each other all the time, he plants his feet into the mattress, and spreads his legs.  
“Oh,” Lando says. His cock, already half-hard, jumps to attention so quickly Lando feels briefly dizzy. “Oh, right. Fucking hell.” 
“Only if you want to,” Oscar says, voice trembling. “I know it’s - I’m sorry. I know this is fucking insane.” 
“If I want to,” Lando echoes, feeling vaguely hysterical. Maybe he’s the drugged one. Maybe Max thought it would be funny to slip something into his drink last night, and all this is just one long, horny fever-dream. 
“Yeah,” Oscar says, in a voice that betrays his barely-suppressed panic. “Lando? Can you - oh, god. Say something, please?” 
“Are you - fuck, Oscar. I mean. Are you sure?” 
Oscar nods desperately, the movement ruffling his hair. “Please, Lando. I came to you for - for a reason,” he gulps. And then, softly, almost begging – “Please.” 
It’s so hot Lando almost sees stars. “Alright,” he says after a moment of indecision. “Alright, Osc. I’ve got you.” 
The relief on Oscar’s face is almost enough to make Lando feel guilty, that Oscar thinks Lando’s the one doing him a favour. Like he hasn’t been gagging to stick his dick in Oscar since that first day in the MTC. 
Lando fumbles for his hand, threads their fingers together, gives Oscar’s hand a tight squeeze. “‘M gonna make it go away, Osc, I swear.” 
Oscar gasps at the sensation, banal and sexless as a squeeze of the hand is. He needs it. He’s sore from overstimulation, gasping whenever Lando so much as brushes his cock, and yet he’s still begging for it, desperate to be touched. 
Oscar smiles at him, so sweet and polite. “Thank you,” he says, and Lando loses his grasp on reality. 
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guiltyasdave · 6 months ago
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say you'll remember me
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chapter 5 • series masterlist
pairing: Dave York x f!reader
summary: The aftermath. (Because I am dramatic)
word count: 1.9k
tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, somewhat unhealthy relationship dynamics, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks big time), able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, slut shaming, pure angst I'M SORRY
a/n: co-written with my angel @joelscurls, i love you <3
i'm sorry that this took so long and also about the... contents of this. it's the last official chapter, but there will be an epilogue. if this is stressing you out and you'd feel more comfortable knowing if there will be a happy ending, please feel free to shoot me a dm <3
follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates and find jess’ masterlist here and my masterlist here :)
dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍
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“Where’s my what?”
David steps through the open bedroom door, pulling a washed out t-shirt over his head, tousling his hair even further than it was before. He’s not wearing pants, only the briefs that he so eagerly got out of less than an hour ago. He freezes at the scene in front of him. 
You’re painfully aware of your own appearance, painfully aware of how obvious it is what you’re doing here. There’s zero chance of talking your way out of this one. 
Your father is still standing in the doorway, jaw clenched impossibly tight, his gaze flickering between the two of you. You steal a glance at David, finding his eyes already on you. Regret is swimming in them, threatening to drown you both, and you know that he’s come to the same conclusion. You’re done for. 
“What the fuck is this?” 
It’s clipped, the quiet and cold tone that you’ve had a lifetime to get used to, but it’s tinged in anger, with an intensity that you’ve never heard before. The step you take back comes instinctively, following the desperate urge to get closer to the man behind you, the man who makes you feel safe, even now. A scowl forms on your father’s face as he clocks the movement. 
“Jim–” David tries, arm halfway raised like he’s reaching out. To you or to your father, you’re not sure. 
“I was in the area, thought I’d drop by, even though you weren’t answering your phone.” His chuckle is devoid of humor, his eyes flashing darkly. “Guess you were busy.” 
“Dad, please…” You’re not sure what you even want to ask for. For him to hear you out, to understand? 
He shakes his head, looking you up and down, disdain written clear over his face. 
“Put some clothes on, Jesus Christ. I’m taking you home.” 
You look at David again, desperate for just a hint of comfort, no matter how small. The promise that, somehow, everything will be fine. He gives you a curt nod towards the bedroom, no discernible emotion in his expression. 
You’re uncomfortably aware of the expanse of your bare legs under his shirt as you walk back into the room, the place that has become your sanctuary over the past weeks. 
“Jim, listen,” you hear David’s voice through the open door. “We just– we were talking if maybe I could get her an internship at the DIA, and it– it just happened. It was a one time thing, I swear. And a mistake. I–I’m so sorry.”
Lies. They seem to fall from his lips so easily, like a story that he had prepared for a long time. Maybe he did. 
“I really don’t give a shit, Dave.” 
You hear David sigh, can see his accompanying expression in your mind. The pursed lips, the firm jaw. 
“I guess that’s fair.” 
You don’t want to leave, don’t want the tense car ride, don’t want to be alone in your room and replay this over and over. You’re already circling through scenarios how this could have gone differently. 
Why did you have to go open the door? Why didn’t you let David get it? Why did none of you notice his phone ringing? Why hadn’t you been more careful? 
When you re-emerge from the room, neither of them has moved. Your father’s expression is unreadable, a stoic kind of coldness that doesn’t betray any feelings he might have. 
You can’t help looking at David’s face when you pass him, searching for comfort, reassurance, anything. Some sign that he didn’t mean it when he said you and him had been a mistake. But he’s staring at the floor, his face like a mask. 
You bite your lip, avoiding your father’s gaze when you step past him and down the stairwell. He’s gonna have more to say about this, you know it. 
He’s fulfilling your expectation after a few minutes of silence, the tension in the car so thick that it feels like you’re getting crushed by the sheer weight of it.
“Always taking the easy route, aren’t you?! Rather just spread your legs than to put in some actual work, fucking hell…” 
Your lips fall open at his words, a disbelieving huff escaping you. 
“Dad, that’s not–” 
“That’s exactly what it is,” he cuts you off, his grip tight on the steering wheel, venom spitting from his mouth. “I didn’t think I raised you to be a whore.” 
You snap your mouth shut, staring straight ahead, tears brimming in your eyes. It had never even crossed your mind, the thought that you’d get anything like a job out of your… situation with David. It was never your motivation. You just– wanted him. Wanted him to like you. 
It hurts, hurts more than you want to admit to yourself, to have your own father jump to that conclusion so quickly. To know that he has no issues seeing you like that, thinking of you like that. 
“You embarrassed me,” he continues, even angrier than before. “Throwing yourself at the first man you see.”
Heat is rising in your cheeks. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. 
“I’m sorry.” It’s a whispered sound, shame ringing with the words. You don’t want to apologize, but it comes like an instinct, the only acceptable option that you have. 
“You’re gonna stay home for the next two weeks, until your break is over. You’re gonna study and maybe, if you show me that it’s not a complete waste of money, I’ll keep paying for that goddamn school.”
Your head whips around to stare at his stony profile beside you. He’s grounding you?!
“Dad, I’m not a child!” 
He shrugs, pulling up to the house. 
“Well, since you’re acting as irresponsible as a child, I’m gonna treat you like one.”
He doesn’t stop you when you throw open the car door, fumbling with the house keys before you get the door open and stomp up to your room. Angry tears are blurring your vision, blood pounding loudly in your ears. 
You’re not thinking straight, thumbs flying over your phone screen, a message about how this doesn’t mean anything, how you’ll figure this out, how much you still want him, flowing from your fingertips. David doesn’t respond. 
You cry yourself to sleep that night, tossing and turning in your sheets, your dreams full of vague shapes and scenarios, replaying the day’s events over and over. 
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Your father checks on you the next morning, pointedly asking about your plans for the day, seemingly content with your mumbled, spiritless responses about revising coursework and working on applications for an internship. 
“You can do better than the DIA, you realize that, right? Hardly any money to make there.” 
You nod silently, forcing down the ragefit about how you don’t give a shit about the DIA, or about any job for that matter, that it never fucking was about that. 
You’ve never had a particularly strong intention to actually follow your father’s orders and not leave the house, but it’s out of the window when your phone finally vibrates with a message from David, asking if it’s possible for you to meet him. 
You’re out the door in a heartbeat, paying no mind to the security cameras recording you, to the consequences of this. It’s like you’re on autopilot, the stress of the past 24 hours erasing all rational thoughts from your mind. 
David meets you at the door, a sight so painfully familiar and yet entirely new, because of the look on his face. Devoid of emotion, a mask of the man that you know, but not this version of him. He pulls you into an embrace, one that you desperately want to melt into, but his arms are stiff around you, coldness seeping into your bones despite the warmth of his body. You suppress a shiver when he doesn’t even lead you further into the apartment. You’re standing in the hallway, the short distance between you suddenly unbridgeable. From the corner of your eye, you notice his bedroom door. Firmly closed, once more. 
“Sweetheart–” he begins, rubbing his neck with one hand. A nervous gesture, so vastly different from the self-assured, always in control David that you’re so intimately familiar with. 
The rational part of you knows what this means, can almost predict the words that he’s gonna say next. It gives you a strange sense of déjà vu, reminds you of another time when you were in this apartment, so sure that he didn’t want you, that he was going to end this thing with you. 
You were mistaken back then. You know that you’re not mistaken now, because the David in front of you is nothing like the one from back then. It’s glaringly obvious, the difference between them, the cold determination that you see in his eyes only right now. 
“You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you? F–for real this time?” 
Your voice barely wavers, your eyes don’t stray from his face. It’s like you’re walking through a dream, through a living nightmare, eerily aware of what’s gonna happen next but with no way to do anything about it. 
Hurt flashes in his eyes, gritting his teeth, swallowing down a lump in his throat. He only manages a silent nod.
You feel your face crumbling, hot tears finally springing to your eyes. Your throat grows tight. 
“Please… please don’t. Please.” You have to beg, have to at least try.
“I’m sorry,” he sighs, running a hand over his face. “I never should have– it was a mistake. You know that, right?” 
You shake your head, eyes wide and silently pleading with him, unable to form words. He sighs, pain clear on his features as he cups your cheek. 
“Baby, I– I wish things were different, but– you’re so young. You’ve still got your whole life– you don’t need me. I never should have allowed this. I’m sorry that I did.” 
You choke out his name, the one that, unbeknownst to you, no one else uses. That he’ll never let anyone else use again. 
“But I want you,” you whisper, stepping closer, pressing your face into the familiar crook of his neck, breathing in the comfort that the scent of him brings. He chuckles weakly, a humorless sound, gently moving out of your embrace, his large hands finding your shoulders instead, prompting you to look at him.
“You shouldn’t. I’m not– I’m not worth it. I won’t let you fuck up your life over this.” 
Acceptance and denial are battling in your heart, the knowledge that you kind of always had but buried away deep down finally resurfacing. He isn’t yours to lose and he never was. 
“I’ll miss you,” you whisper, tears silently streaming down your face. You need to ask, need to know if this ever meant as much to him as it did to you. “Will you miss me at all?” Will you even remember me?
His lips tilt up in a sad smile, and you could swear that his eyes are glassy as he gently presses his mouth against your forehead one last time. 
“Always, sweetheart.”
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.........................................please remember that i love you
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its-alittleobsessed · 8 months ago
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Orpheus and Eurydice but it's Dean and Castiel coming out of the empty. Jesus Christ. JESUS. is there a fic like that?
Like imagine Dean, smack dab in the middle of nothing. Pitch black for miles and miles and the empty speaks to him, says, "I'll give him back on one condition."
And Dean nodding, desperate to it, "Anything."
And the empty smiles, though it doesn't have a face or body or soul, Dean can hear it smile, can feel it in the molecules around him, when it says, "Do not look back."
There's a small light at the end of nothing, so miniscule it looks like a grain of rice. The empty points it out, commands, "Go."
And Dean doesn't move. The grain of rice is so small and it is so quiet around him. "Go?"
"Yes, go."
The empty is nothing. It is nothing in nothing. A black hole sucking up another black hole—that is what the empty is. Dean’s inside it, inside the hole inside another hole, looking for a guy who shines brighter than the sun on a cloudless day. 
It’s so fucking quiet. Dean shakes his head, “I don’t—”
“You don’t trust that I’ve placed him behind you?” The empty snarls, groans, and festers, “You don’t trust that he’ll follow you?”
The first step he takes is heavy. It weighs and echoes across the great expanse of hollowness. It is not followed by another immediate step. He is the only thing breathing, the only noise rising, and he asks, because he has to know, “Cas?”
There is no reply. 
“He’s behind you.” The empty assures. There’s a tilt to its voice like it might be lying. Or maybe it’s amused. Dean can’t tell, his heart’s beating too loudly in his ears to tell the difference. 
The second, third, and fourth steps are just as earth quaking as the first. He walks—drags his feet below him, closer to the blinding light leading them home, still so far away, still the size of a mere flame. 
“It was really fucked up. What you did.” Dean says, because he can’t look, and he can’t hear, but he can still talk. “What kind of an asshole does that? What kind of a—” He swallows, keeps a steady rhythm foot after foot, “You said. What you said. Why’d you say it?”
He’d practiced this in his room a few times. What he’d say if he ever saw Cas again. At least then, the walls would hum back. They'd stare back and hold him up if he couldn’t keep his knees from buckling. But here, in this vacuum, what is there to rely on? 
“Thought I was dyin’. ” Dean confesses, the light has turned into the size of a dime, and he keeps staring it down, determined, “Watchin’ you get taken, I mean. Felt like—felt like you took my heart with you down here, y’know?” 
There aren’t any footsteps behind him. There’s no flutter of wings or exhale or exasperated sigh. He’s—he feels alone. 
“Couldn’t go on without you, man. S’why I’m here.” Why is it so fucking quiet? Dean wasn’t this quiet when Cas said his piece. He’d been frozen, maybe, but not quiet. Never quiet. “I—I need you to be there. I can’t—don’t know how I’m supposed to go on if you aren't there.”
The empty’s stopped replying, too. The rice turned into dime and now it’s the size of a baseball and it’s still so fucking. Hollow. And the empty likes to play games doesn’t it? Likes to trick poor schmucks like Dean who are desperate hopeful bastards. 
With Cas in the room, there’d be electricity around them. A spark of something. But now, Jesus, now, there isn’t—the air’s so fucking stiff and horrible. 
Dean reaches an arm back, still walking, “Gimme your hand.” 
No one touches him.
“Empty didn’t say nothin’ about skin on skin, man. C’mon.” His steps stutter and his hand shakes, “C’mon.”
The light is the size of a window. He’s getting closer—no, no, no they’re getting closer. Both of them. ‘Cause Cas is there. He’s right there. He’s—
“I just wanna know you’re okay.” He looks at the ground, tries to cheat, tries to find another set of feet with his peripheral vision. “M’not leavin’ without you, you dick. So you better—you better gimme a fuckn’ sign or I’ll stay here. Forever if I gotta.”
His voice doesn’t even bounce off the fucking walls. There are no walls. Or feet or breaths or hands touching his own. There is no answer to any of his questions. And he stretches his arm as far as it can go behind him, as far as his broken muscles can, he begs, “Please, Cas.”
The light has grown to the size of a door and it’s too quiet. Too vacant and blank. So unlike Cas at the end of everything. And Dean can’t leave—he can’t just—he came here for someone and if he’s not—if this is a trick then, then—
“Please.” 
One more step. That’s all he needs. He’s one step away, just one, but Cas isn’t answering. He isn’t answering or touching Dean’s hand and the empty lies.
It’s too quiet, the empty lies, and Dean can’t leave without him. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t and the door is right there, it’s right there but Dean can’t leave, he can’t leave ‘cause Cas isn’t behind him, he was never behind him, and he turns, oh God, Dean turns around and—
Cas smiles, that soft deep smile of his that edges on a little sad, he tilts his head, so loving and forgiving, “I love you too.”
And then he’s gone. Ripped away one more time.
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asthedeathoflight · 4 months ago
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Fanfic Friday!!!!
Thank you to @oldbutchdaniel for coming up with this idea it's very delightful. Also I stole the formatting from @byooregard 's post so shoutout to them
Open Eyes and Behind Your Teeth by Tisiphones, E, 12.5k, ongoing
It wasn't fascinating, the way the boy didn't know whether to lean into the touch or away from it, confused by the comfort and the pain it offered in equal measures. It wasn't. Armand could do the same thing — did do the same thing, whenever Louis deigned to touch him at all — and Louis still thought he was boring. It couldn't be this that had captivated him. But that didn't mean it wasn't fun. --- Armand weighs the pros and cons of dog ownership. Episode 2x05 puppyplay but fucked up style. Featuring Armand having sensory difficulties and Daniel desperately trying not to be into this, like, sexually.
Different for Vampires by Ariaste, M, 49k, ongoing
Daniel Molloy: Professionally Sassing Vampires Since 1973. *** “And you say that Armand was…” Daniel checked his notepad. “Telling you all this via the medium of song and choreographed dance. And, I quote, ‘in black and white, a la Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.’” “Well,” said Lestat with an expansive gesture. “Figuratively.” Daniel gripped his patience with both hands, but that didn’t seem to help much. Extremely fun fic about Daniel's adventures in vampirism post-everything. Includes some really great vampire instinct shenanigans re: fledglings and makers.
The Mind is a Wilderness by Celestialskiff, M/E, 21k, ongoing series
Essentially, this fic is Louis saying, “I’ll take care of you. It’s rotten work. Especially to me, especially if it’s you. I’ll fucking do it, but Christ Alive.” Set post S02: Louis finds Armand. Very very very good post s2 loumand series featuring Armand's various struggles with age regression and dissociation and Louis doing his best to take care of him.
A Memo From Human Resources by Nestorius, G, 2.5k, complete
The pitfalls of having a vampire boss. I've already recced this fic on here but y'all are gonna hear about it again. Rashidmand character study written before 1x03 came out. So good it made me suddenly wish Rashid wasn't Armand because jesus christ, guys. I will be thinking about this nonexistent guy for the rest of my life.
Thank you for listening. I'm imagining that we are all set up at little booths like a science fair presenting about our fics
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tomorrowusa · 2 years ago
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Don't think that patiently explaining the legalities and details of the Trump indictment will change the minds of the MAGA crowd about it. Those folks, like Trump, simply don't believe in the rule of law.
There may be some Republicans who secretly believe the charges have merit but are scared shitless of what may happen if they say so in public.
A reasonably healthy party might give its indicted leader some benefit of the doubt, while calling for judgment to be withheld before he has his day in court. But Republicans correctly understand that their party will consider Trump an innocent martyr regardless. The sickness of the Republican Party as it is presently constituted is that there is no conceivable set of facts that would permit it to acknowledge Trump’s guilt. What has brought the party to this point is the convergence of its decades-long descent into paranoia with its idiosyncratic embrace of a career criminal.
Yep, the GOP has been drifting in this direction for a long time. Trump's emergence finally nudged them into being a full-blown paranoid cult.
The Republican Party’s internal culture has been shaped by what Richard Hofstadter famously described as “the paranoid style” in American politics. Hofstadter specifically attributed this description to the conservative movement, which, at the time, was a marginalized faction on the far right but has since completely taken control of the party and imposed its warped mentality on half of America. To its adherents, every incremental expansion of the welfare state is incipient communism, each new expansion of social liberalism the final death blow to family and church. Lurking behind these endless defeats, they discern a vast plot by shadowy elites. In recent years, the Republican Party’s long rightward march on policy has ground to a halt, and it has instead radicalized on a different dimension: ruthlessness. Attributing their political travails to weakness, Republicans converged on the belief that their only chance to pull back from the precipice of final defeat is to discard their scruples. A willingness to do or say anything to win was the essence of Trump’s appeal, an amorality some Republicans embraced gleefully and others reluctantly. Trump, by dint of his obsessive consumption of right-wing media, grasped where the party was going more quickly than its leaders did. This aspect of Trump’s rise was historically necessary. All Trump did was to hasten it along.
This is Trump's legal philosophy (if you want to call it that) in a nutshell...
Trump was not raised in a traditional conservative milieu. He came into a seedy, corrupt world in which politicians could be bought off and laws were suggestions. He worked with mobsters and absorbed their view of law enforcement: People who follow the law are suckers, and the worst thing in the world is a rat.
Trump is basically a petty mobster. That explains why he hates the FBI.
It is the interplay of the two forces, the paranoia of the right and the seamy criminality of the right’s current champion, that has brought the party to this point. Trump’s endlessly repeated “witch hunt” meme blends together the mobster’s hatred of the FBI with the conservative’s fear of the bureaucrat. His loyalists have been trained to either deny any evidence of misconduct by their side or rationalize it as a necessary countermeasure against their enemies. The concept of “crime” has been redefined in the conservative mind to mean activities by Democrats. They insist upon Trump’s innocence because they believe a Republican, axiomatically, cannot be a criminal.
That Manichean view fits in well with the radical Christian fundamentalist tendency in the GOP. Though instead of Jesus Christ, the credo of Republicans is to accept Donald Trump as their personal Lord and Savior. By that reasoning, Donald Trump is incapable of wrongdoing.
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lafiametta · 5 days ago
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for the anora x Igor one-word fic prompt : scars
When his shirt first comes off, she’s too distracted to notice, so it’s only as they’re lying there on her bed, the thin morning light filtering in through the curtain, that her eyebrows lift a little and she traces her fingers up towards the center of his chest.
She glances up, cheeks flushed with the sheen of exertion.
“Holy shit.”
Igor says nothing. She does enough talking for the two of them already and he sees no reason to change that now.
“Did you get fuckin’ stabbed or something?”
He shakes his head softly. “No.”
This isn’t really how he had imagined their first post-sex conversation going—even though technically they’ve already had sex, which he’s not sure counts, given how complicated the whole thing was. He’s mostly just pleased that they got to do it in a bed this time and that it seemed like something she was enjoying for its own sake, not because she thought she owed him anything.
“So then what happened?”
He curls onto his side to face her, his arm slipping under a lumpy, flannel-covered pillow. He doesn't have to glance down to know what’s there: a pale ridge running down his sternum, almost twenty centimeters from top to bottom. If she looked closer, she would see a dozen tiny pocks on either side, now faded with time, marking where they put the stitches in.
“Heart surgery.”
A small pinched line appears between her eyebrows and for a moment he’s touched at her display of concern.
“Was it like a heart attack?”
“No,” he says, suddenly feeling the need for a cigarette. But the pack is in his jacket pocket, all the way across the room, and he doesn’t want to leave the tiny nest of warmth that her body and the sheets are providing. “I was born with...” —he pauses, the English words frustratingly distant and unreachable— “There was a hole.”
What he’s telling her is not enough, and he knows he could switch to Russian and have the whole story out in thirty seconds, but there are things that even in your own language you don't really have words for, that can't be shaped into easy explanations. It’s impressions, mostly: the antiseptic smell of countless doctors’ offices, the strained voices of his parents behind closed doors, the blindingly bright room he woke up in, his scrawny ten-year old body nearly swallowed up in the expanse of the hospital bed.
“You were born with a fuckin’ hole in your heart? Jesus Christ.”
She curls back and reaches towards the top of the nightstand, returning with a vape pen. The bedsheet has fallen down to her waist, offering him a distracting enough view that he doesn’t fully register that she’s finished taking a puff and is now offering it to him. It’s peach-flavored and fairly disgusting, but the sensation of nicotine hitting the back of his throat is enough to make up for it.
“Although it’s kind of ironic,” she murmurs. “Igor’s supposed to be the hunchback, but that’s some real Frankenstein shit right there.”
Perhaps to soften the bite of the joke she inches closer, until she’s almost snuggling against him. Her dark hair curtains over her cheek and shoulder, glints of pink tinsel shining like tiny stars.
He reaches out to run his hand along the bare skin of her back. It's smooth, unmarked, perfect. But he knows as well as she does how little that can matter. There will always be scars no one can see.
[send me a one-word Anora x Igor prompt]
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ranaissingle · 2 years ago
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Hi love! Just a little idea, what if Elvis' girlfriend sees them play football and wants in on the fun?
I just love that football scene way too much 👉👈🥰
Girls Just Want To Fun
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Masterlist Fandom: Austin Butler and/or Elvis Rating: M Pairings: Austin!Elvis x Fem!Reader and/or Elvis x Fem!Reader Word Count: 951
Warnings: some light smut at the end, sexual innuendos, Elvis being too hot to handle? A/N: Can we please just take a second to talk about hot he is? I would commit arson (or any other federal crime for that matter) for this man Jesus Christ. I don't know a lot about football so forgive me if I don't get all of the rules and things right. You also didn't specify if you wanted smut or not so I just did a little but let me know if you want something spicier haha. Now, on to the story!
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The weather outside was beautiful, to say the least. The sun was shining and the clouds were few and far in between. Elvis has been outside messing around with his cousins and friends while Y/N was content to sit on the porch and catch up on her reading while sipping on some sweet tea. She heard the noises of the boys' roughhousing as they tackled each other to the floor only to get up and do it all over again.
Whilst in the depths of her novel, Elvis came up the steps of the porch to greet her.
"Hey there darlin', you doin' alright?" He was breathing hard and Y/N watched as the drops of sweat made their way down the expanse of his neck before dripping slowly into the divot of his collarbone. His hair was tousled from running around and fell so beautifully over his forehead and eyes. She wondered how something as simple as that could mesmerize her so extensively.
Y/N shook her head and looked up at Elvis's face before he caught on to what she was really thinking. "I'm fine Elvis just a little bored is all. Wait, actually would you mind if I played some football with you all? I'm getting tired of just sitting around? I want to have some fun!". Her fingers wound around the others while she asked her question. She didn't want to interrupt his merriment, but she was practically dying from boredom.
Elvis' large answering smile was all Y/N needed to quell her anxieties.
" Of course darlin', I was actually comin' over to ask ya the same thing." He firmly grasped her hands before hauling her up onto her feet and pulling her down the steps of the porch.
"Alright, I gotta teach ya how to throw a football first, and then we can start doin' the other stuff." Y/N gave him a brisk nod and mumbled "mmhm".
Elvis stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her front to reach her hands. He grasped her fingers and wrapped them softly around the football in his hand. Y/N couldn't even pay attention to the way she was supposed to hold the ball with Elvis' front pressed firmly against her and his head leaning into the crook of her neck.
"Keep ya hands like this and grasp the ball tight like that. Good job baby." He punctuated his compliment with a kiss on Y/N's neck and cheek. He stepped away from her slightly to explain to her how to throw the football. Their dog, Charlie, was standing at attention ready to catch the ball at a moment's notice.
"Bring ya arm back like this, aim the ball and then throw. I'll help ya through the first throw alright?"
"Okay, yeah I got it." Y/N's voice was soft as Elvis reached around her to mirror the movements with his hand and arm clasped around hers. This was not going to help her concentration. Elvis helped Y/N's hand mirror the movements a few times before eventually unwrapping himself from around her, much to her dismay.
"Okay, now it's your turn honey. Do it jus' like I taught ya, got it?" Y/N missed his warmth immediately and the hot summer air could do nothing to quell the chill that came with the lack of Elvis' body heat. But Y/N didn't want to embarrass herself so she reared back her arm, aimed the ball toward the dog, and let the ball fly.
"Nice form darlin' ya did so well." Elvis wrapped his arms around her waist as he settled his body back against her. Y/N couldn't take it anymore.
"aah" The breathy moan and sharp inhalation afterward were all that Elvis needed to catch on to her predicament. An easy smirk crept its way onto his lips as he squeezed her tighter. He turned her around by her shoulders until she was face to face with him. Y/N's eyes were wide and her lips were ravaged from all the biting she had put them through. Elvis was enchanted, to say the least. She always looked beautiful but he thought she looked her best when she wanted him.
Elvis moved his hands to hold her face with one and her waist with the other before he knelt his head down to kiss her. He moved her head every which way to kiss her at every possible angle. He would never tire of the curve of her waist and the soft moans and gasps she would release when he let his hands explore her.
" mmh El-Elvi- ahm" she tried to say his name in between kisses but Elvis' lips silenced any attempt at coherent communication. The hand on her waist moved up and down her back while the other on her cheek slid down onto her neck and back up into the locks of her hair.
He pulled himself away from her lips and moved down to her neck.
"You're so beautiful, baby. I could spend the rest of my life lookin' at ya and I still wouldn't be able to get my fill." The words were muffled by the collar of Y/Ns blouse. Elvis left open-mouthed kisses along her neck and up to her ear where he began whispering sweet nothings as his hands continued to work wonders.
"Jump up into my arms baby I want to take ya inside." His nose had nuzzled itself behind her ear and Y/N felt the timbre of his voice vibrating against her chest.
Y/N did just that and they abandoned the football and Charlie outside and made their way to the house. She got the fun wanted, albeit not in the manner she had intended.
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I hope you all liked it! Until next time!
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saras-devotionals · 9 months ago
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Quiet Time 4/23
What am I feeling today?
Honestly, I feel guilty for not posting my quiet times lately. I’ve been learning some incredible things and it’s selfish to keep it to myself and also not useful to me if I don’t have it written down anywhere because then I forget! Also, I’m feeling overwhelmed, it’s my last week of the semester and I’m worried about school, the fashion show, and women’s day at my church because they’re all happening within this next week and it’s just a lot on my plate because I want to be able to achieve it all to the best of my ability.
The Prideful Soul’s Guide to Humility
Reality Will Not Change
Man will never succeed in his effort to pull himself up to the level of God, and he certainly will never be in a position where he will be able to look down on God. Cocky, arrogant man may make disparaging comments about God. He may ridicule God. He may prance and strut around as though he is more clever than God. He may boast that he does not need God. He may live as though he is "the master of his fate and the captain of his soul." But one day he will stand in the presence of the righteous and holy God, and he will tremble as he realizes that he was never greater than God. It was all an absurd, fool-hearted and deadly game of pretending. Isaiah describes such a man
Isaiah 14:12-17 NIV
“How you have fallen from heaven, morning star, son of the dawn! You have been cast down to the earth, you who once laid low the nations! You said in your heart, “I will ascend to the heavens; I will raise my throne above the stars of God; I will sit enthroned on the mount of assembly, on the utmost heights of Mount Zaphon. I will ascend above the tops of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High.” But you are brought down to the realm of the dead, to the depths of the pit. Those who see you stare at you, they ponder your fate: “Is this the man who shook the earth and made kingdoms tremble, the man who made the world a wilderness, who overthrew its cities and would not let his captives go home?””
This ruler that Isaiah is describing once exercised authority over many. So expansive was his power that he fantasized that he could make himself like the Most High. But his glory was short-lived, and he ended up just like the other men in the shame of the grave.
So it will be with every pride. ful soul that does not bow in humility before the God who made him. Nothing man can do will change reality. He is not God. He will never be God. As long as he ignores that truth, his life will be headed for a disastrous conclusion. For God opposes the proud.
James 4:6 NIV
“But he gives us more grace. That is why Scripture says: “God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble.””
1 Peter 5:5 NIV
“In the same way, you who are younger, submit yourselves to your elders. All of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because, “God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble.””
The Truth Sets You Free
Jesus taught, "You shall know the truth and the truth will set you free." Even those who do not acknowledge Jesus as the Christ agree that this is the highest kind of wisdom. Universities place this saying over their doors. Scientists are fiercely committed to finding the truth. Whenever you ask for guidance or counsel, you want to get it from someone who is fully in touch with the truth.
When you make decisions on the most important issues in your life, you need to be in touch with the most central truths of life. The most important truth any of us can ever know is that there is a God, but we are not him. Any confusion about either one of those things gets us into big trouble. There is a great and powerful God who wants a relationship with us and who will use his amazing power to bless our lives, but we are the creatures and he is the Creator. Everything we have, we have from his hand. Have you done some great things? Have you received some recognition for accomplishments? If so, you did those things with the mind and strength God gave you. Without him you would be nothing.
As Paul said to the proud Athenians: “He himself gives all men life and breath and everything else” (Acts 17:25)
The basis for humility, then, is quite simple. Humility is the only thing that makes sense because of how eternal and unchanging and powerful God is and how fading and precarious and dependent we are. Nothing you do in your life will ever change that. People are sometimes humble until they enjoy some great success. What fools we can be! A little success, achieved by the grace of God, does not change the nature of reality. It does not change who you are and who God is.
To live in accordance with the truth, we all need to practice the presence of God. We need to live all the time just as if we were standing in the presence of someone very important because we are. Think of some recent prideful thing you did. Would you have done that if you had been aware that you were standing in the very presence of the holy, righteous and almighty God? Would you have treated your friend the way you did? Would you have treated your spouse the way you did? Would you have taken the credit that you took? Would you have been defensive when corrected?
This is such a good reminder for me because sometimes I don’t think about the fact that everything I do is in the presence of God. I can go about my day ignoring Him sometimes or thinking He’s not around to see certain things but that so blind and ignorant! He’s literally watching me right now and every moment of my life! I need to go about the days of my life acknowledging Him because He’s everywhere!
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addisonnie · 1 year ago
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Hmmmm i feel like feeding you a little bit so open wide my wittle princesses here’s part 1 of a (depressing) draft I never finished lol.
Nothing in the world is worse than someone who doesn’t have to try at anything in order to be good at it. Especially in academic settings; What do you mean you didn’t study and you got an ‘A’? Eat shit, honestly.
On the topic of complaining, there is also nothing worse than taking a class you believe has nothing to do with anything regarding your major. Yet here you are, in ‘Dinosaurs: What Walked Before Us?’ instead of English 2400. Sure, dinosaurs are cool, whatever.
Ellie Williams seems to really, really enjoy dinosaurs. So much to the point that she doesn’t have to take notes or pay attention to lectures for any reason other than pure interest. Yep, she’s one of those. The auburn haired girl sits directly next to you in the lecture hall, she’s constantly talking to herself under her breath and doodling random dinosaurs and shapes in the blank expanse of her notebook. Not one note has been taken in that stupid spiral-bound notebook all semester and the thought of Ellie actually studying for this class is a mental image you just can’t picture.
She really pisses you off. Her stupid lanky fingers tapping on the desk. Her stupid toned arm reaching skyward to answer the professor's question. Why does she know so much about velociraptors?
“Psst. Hey.” She turns in her chair to look at the side of your face.
You ignore her and continue jotting down your notes. She’s not that easy to shake off, though,
“Hey—hey! Do you have a pen? Or pencil, I’m not particular.” She whisper-shouts in your direction and taps her skinny finger on your notebook. You attempt to continue ignoring Ellie and write down everything the professor says, she’s facing you and breathing really close to your ear and tapping your notebook and— Jesus Christ.
The tip of your pencil snapped off from writing too aggressively, the led resting on top of the paper serves as a taunting reminder that Ellie is still looking at you.
“Ooh. Rough. Hopefully you have two extras.” She smirks at you.
You scoff and turn to dig through your bag, turning to face Ellie when you fish out two pens, one pink and one blue.
“Thanks!” She roughly twists to face forward again, listening intently to the professor once again.
The professor. Shit. Fuck. What did he just say? The largest dinosaur was the what? You’re so fucked. Thank you, Ellie.
———
“You will be working in small groups—pairs of two to be exact. The person seated to the right of you will be your partner for this assignment. And remember, this is a massive assignment, worth forty percent of your grade. Alright, folks, that’s all for today. I’ll see you all next class.” Stupid smug professor. He knew exactly what he was doing! You took a quick look at the girl to the right of you and sighed when you realized Ellie Williams was, in fact, your partner for this massive project.
“Hey, partner.” Your eyes practically roll into the back of your skull when she slaps a hand onto the back of your chair, “you and me, huh?”
Instead of dignifying her with a response, you grab her arm from the back of your chair and aggressively push up the sleeve of her sweatshirt. A tattoo covers the majority of her forearm and the skin beneath it is raised slightly, swirls of scarred skin blur beneath the leafy pattern of ink. Uncapping your pen, you write your phone number on the back of her hand.
“Well, alrighty then. Assaulting a classmate. Nice. ” Her eyes scan the digits written on her hand and when she looks back up, you’re already halfway out the door with your backpack thrown carelessly over your shoulder.
Your phone vibrates in your back pocket while you walk down the front steps of the academic building. Once, twice.
Hey.
It’s Ellie.
————
The library is quiet aside from the incessant rapping and tapping of Ellie’s fingers on the desk between the two of you. Multiple books are strewn across the table, notebooks filled with highlighted annotations rest in the remaining space. You massage your temples and squint, attempting to block out the sound of her fingertips smacking the wood over and over and over again.
“Can you fucking not do that? For literally five seconds.” Ellie looks up from her book quickly and sheepishly smiles, “sorry.”
“Whatever.”
She rolls her eyes, “listen, I know you’re mad about being paired with me, but you don’t have to be such a grouch about it.”
What? You’re not even being a grouch. She’s just annoying as shit.
“I’m not a grouch—“ she cuts you off, “—yeah, you kinda are. Oscar the Grouch.”
Scoffing, you respond, “I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.”
“You just did.” She smirks and you groan loud enough to be shushed by several of the people sitting nearby, “just do your part of the assignment.”
She doesn’t, of course. She spends the next thirty minutes spinning round and round in her desk chair, occasionally stopping to ensure the dizziness dissipates.
“You know,” here we go again. Ellie fully stops spinning, placing both of her hands down onto the table and stares straight at you.
“Instead of reading these boring books, what if we went to the museum instead—“
You cut her off, “no. No way.”
“Oh come on!” She drags out the last syllable, “it would be way more enjoyable than this! Plus, we could get some killer pictures for that hunk of shit slideshow you’ve been working on.”
“Hey—! My slideshow is not a hunk of shit!” Ellie scoffs and rolls her eyes, “it’s pretty fuckin’ bad.”
Okay, so maybe your slideshow sucks a little bit. It’s boring and overly colorful with too much information on each slide—yeah, the more you look at it, the more it does look like a hunk of shit.
“Fine. Let’s go to the museum.”
———
The ride to the dinosaur exhibit is arguably the worst part of this project—a whole hour stuck in the car with Ellie, who can’t drive for shit, by the way. An old jeep wrangler parks messily on the street in front of your house and several shrill honks ring out from the old hunk of junk.
Here.
You slip on the shoes closest to the front door and quickly grab your tote bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you slam the door behind you. Ellie doesn’t notice you approach her car, much too enthralled in the music blasting from her busted speakers. You tug on the handle only to find that the door is locked. After knocking your knuckles on the window, the girl jumps and whips her head to face the window.
“It’s locked.” You mouth over the music, she shrugs.
“Guess you’ll have to walk.” A smirk spreads across her face, “I’m getting ready to key your car, Williams.”
She frowns quickly and unlocks the door, “good morning, grumpy! How are you this fine morning?”
You roll your eyes and slouch into the seat, “don’t start this now, please.”
Ellie huffs and turns the music up louder. Her arm reaches across the back of your seat as she turns her head around to reverse without hitting your already-damaged mailbox. Her buff, toned arm. Her tanned, tattooed arm. You can’t help but wonder how it would feel wrapped around you—no. You’re not doing this. Not with Ellie Williams of all people.
The ride is surprisingly quiet before Ellie slams the breaks, her arm slinging out rapidly to shove your body back into your seat. The force of her hit had you doubling over in your seat, wheezing out several coughs.
“Shit—shit. I’m sorry! You…kind of deserve it though.” She chuckles while you swat at her arm, shoving her away.
“You infuriate me. You know that? Like, seriously infuriate me.” Ellie fully removes her arm and drops her hand into her lap, frowning.
“I don’t know why. I think I'm pretty tolerable as far as everything goes.” She sounds genuinely sad, and you kind of feel bad for a moment,
“You just—I don’t know.”
Ellie is quiet for the rest of the ride.
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pabst-bravado · 2 years ago
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Steve also think that billy is a pretty boy.
Ok, imagine this little story where Stevie still a preppy arrogant asshole from the first season.
(nsf*w crumbs)
Billy and Steve live for each other misery, they are playing this cat and rat game for months, and this "hate" they feel about each other start to make part of their routine, thing got so serious that when they didn't had a chance to mess with each other in the school halls, they actually missed the argues, fights and the little games they do, the day felt simply empty.
After really arguing and having big fisical fights for a few months, they had this frenemies relationship.
The day was good, everything normal, til they got alone in the locker room. Wich also was a normal thing since every player on the basketball team knew they would take any small chance they could have to fight, and absolutely any of them wanted to be there with "crazy wild animal hargrove" or "im rich and I can end ur life harrington".
Billy were getting ready and Steve approach to him.
– Never thought you were the kind of guy who enjoy fancy colognes or perfumes. — Steve says while staring at him, leaning against the lockers. Billy stop a second to look at him.
– What?
– Yeah, I got friends who got really different tastes from me you know, and i recognize this one, I didn't know was coming from you.
– Why the fuck did you care? — Was a serious question, but why waste time with serious questions if he could just be provocative? –You liked it? want to smell more closely? — That smirk that hargrove had in his lips was because he knew a fight was about to start, and he loves to fight, even more with Steve.
– Where's your earring? — Steve step closer to him, asking almost whispering.
– None of your business. — Billy stops putting some things away and closes the cupboard and turns directly to harrington.
– It looked really cheap, but really good on you. Where's it? — Billy just lets out a nasal laugh and start to walk, but Steve stands in front of him preventing him from leaving.
And then Billy tries to say something like "get the fuck way from me", while pushing Steve way, what he didn't saw coming was the other boy knocking him to the ground.
– The fuck you think you're doing?! — Steve stopped in a really strategical way while on top of him.
– If you don't want to make this more embarrassing for you, stop fucking moving. — Was the first time billy felt a lil scared of Steve, the argues used to be longer before they beat each other ass. So he stopped, and he don't know why, Harrington always ended up way worse than him in fights, but he was right, his tigh were in a place that he couldn't never thought about to move.
He watched Steve put one hand in one pocket of his shorts and take one shiny bright thing.
With the other hand he grabbed Hargrove's face in a not a kind way, and with the sudden touch he flinched.
– Whats this? — Steve doesn't answer, just put himself closer to his face. While billy don't stop to keep moving. – Hey! I'm talking to you your piece of shit!
So, Steve himself move his tigh on blonde's, and suddenly Billy stop talking.
– Jesus christ, stop to be a brat for one goddamn minute. — Billy got tired of all this, and he put one hand on Steve arm, but he didn't have time to do anything, as he felt his ear burning and his skin getting hotter, that results him squeezing one leg and above Steve's forearm. Steve still grabbing his face, he stopped whatever he was doing in his ear and look the other boy I'm his eyes. – Not so tough now huh? I liked your earring, you look prettier like that, if you going to use expansive colognes use something that match with that. It's a zirconia earring, it's cost too much for a asshole like you to be using, so don't you ever think about taking it off.
And finally Steve stop torturing Billy. He just walked way like nothing happened, and hargrove stare at him disappear from the room.
He goes to the bathroom to look in the mirror. Had a little bit of blood in his skin, but he didn't washed. He liked it.
Has no chance of him taking this earring off.
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albertfinch · 11 months ago
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Power Study - G36
 Satan’s Domain - 7 - The Realm of Darkness
(Rule In The Midst Of My Enemies)
(Read Luke 9 & 1 Corinthians 1)
1 John 4:4 4You are from God, little children, and have overcome them; because greater is He who is in you than he who is in the world. (Peace does not come from extreme indifference, nor is it from becoming so spiritual that you fail to notice a problem.  It is being so confident in God’s love that I know, regardless of the battle and the difficulties in my circumstances, that He that is in me is greater than any problem that Satan can put in front of me.  I am not self-assured, I am God-assured.)
Romans 16:20   20The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet. The grace of our Lord Jesus be with you. (To wage effective spiritual warfare, we must understand spiritual authority.  When you have spiritual authority, you have established peace in an area that was full of conflict and oppression.  Therefore, to truly be able to move in authority, we must first have peace.  When we maintain peace during warfare it is a crushing blow to Satan and fear.  My victory never comes from my emotions or my intellect. My victory comes by my refusing to judge by what my eyes see and my ears hear, and by trusting what God has promised will come to pass.)
Matthew 8:23-27   23When He got into the boat, His disciples followed Him. 24And behold, there arose a great storm on the sea, so that the boat was being covered with the waves; but Jesus Himself was asleep. 25And they came to Him and woke Him, saying, “Save us, Lord; we are perishing!” 26He said* to them, “Why are you afraid, you men of little faith?” Then He got up and rebuked the winds and the sea, and it became perfectly calm. 27The men were amazed, and said, “What kind of a man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey Him?” (Jesus’ authority over the violent storm was the exercise and expansion of His peace over the elements.  He did not fight against the storm nor did He fear it.  He faced it’s fury and subdued it with His authority, in perfect peace.  I will never know Christ’s victory in it’s fullness until I stop acting humanly to my circumstances.  When I have authority over something I can look at that thing without worry, fear or anxiety.  My peace is the proof of my victory.)
Philippians 1:28   28in no way alarmed by your opponents—which is a sign of destruction for them, but of salvation for you, and that too, from God. (When Satan hurls his darts against me the more peace I have during adverity, the more truly I am walking in Christ’s victory.  My peace, my immovable stand on the word of God is a sign I am positioned correctly in perfect submission to the will of God.  The very fact that I am “in no way alarmed by my adversary” is a sign that I have authority over him.)
Psalm 23:4 4Even though I walk through the £valley of the shadow of death, I fear no £evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. (There is a place of walking with God were you simply fear no evil.  David faced a lion, a bear and a giant.  In this Psalm he stood in “the shadow of death” itself, yet he feared no evil.  David’s trust was in the Lord.  He said “for thou art with me!”  Because God is with me every adversity I face, will unfold in victory as I maintain my faith in God.)
Psalm 23:5   5You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You have anointed my head with oil; My cup overflows. (The battle I am in will soon become a meal for me; an experience that will nourish and build me up spiritually.)
Revelation 4:6 6and before the throne there was something like a sea of glass, like crystal; and in the center and around the throne, four living creatures full of eyes in front and behind. (The sea of glass is a symbol: there are no ripples, no waves, no anxieties troubling God.  The sea around Him is perfectly still and totally calm.  All my victories flow out from being seated here with Him.)
Galatians 4:26 26But the Jerusalem above is free; she is our mother.
Ephesians 2:19 19So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints, and are of God’s household, (God is our Father – the heavenly Jerusalem is our mother, the birth place of our new nature and I am a beloved child of God, part of the Father’s family and a member of His household.  I must know by revelation not to struggle to get up into heaven, rather, I was born there in spiritual rebirth.)
Psalm 110:1-2 1The LORD says to my Lord: “Sit at My right hand Until I make Your enemies a footstool for Your feet.”2The LORD will stretch forth Your strong scepter from Zion, saying,“Rule in the midst of Your enemies.”
Colossians 1:27 27to whom God willed to make known what is the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory. (Before you go into warfare recognize that it is Christ in you that will make your enemies your footstool and give you the authority to “rule in the midst of your enemies”.)
Ephesians 2:6 6and raised us up with Him, and seated us with Him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, (We have been raised up and seated with Christ in heavenly places.  That is why the Holy Spirit continues to speak to us that worship of God is our first response in battle.   I position myself in the presence of God, sitting at rest in the knowledge that Christ has already made my enemies the footstool for my feet.)
                                      Summary
Peace is Spirit power.  The first step to having spiritual authority over the adversary is having peace in spite of my circumstances.  When Jesus confronted the devil His peace overwhelmed Satan, His authority then scattered the lie which sent demons fleeing.  Rest precedes rule.  Peace precedes power.  As I submit to God’s rule over me, I rule over Satan and experience the victory that comes from seeking God until I find Him --  having found Him, allowing His presence to fill my spirit with peace, as I rest in His victory, I rule in the midst of my enemies.
ALBERT FINCH MINISTRY
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thepinkwriterr · 2 years ago
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Capricorn Season Chapter Twenty-Two 
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Sorry for the little lapse in posting. I’ve been busy with school and life. But now I have a few chapters to post. Enjoy 
Table of Contents
Word Count: 6k
It was on the days they woke up together that Robert sang the best. When a day began with staring lovingly into the expanses of her blue eyes, he felt like God was on his side. With her he shined.
"Goodmorning," she said in a low voice. It was too early for loud moves or sudden words. Sun poured in through every open airplane window, ensuring to catch their tired eyes.
And her beauty was an understatement. She was a flowery treasure chest, more gold than you could ever imagine being found inside. He admired who he was when she was around.
"Goodmorning," he returned with a wispy smile, turning uncomfortably in his tiny seat.
- They were a mass of blonde curls under the blinding San Diego sun. They looked like twins-- two sides of the same coin. Perhaps their similarities were what drew them into one another.
They walked together with locked hands. They passed through throngs of people with the group, taking in the sights of the stuffy airport.
Gwen looked at the couple and tapped Jimmy on the shoulder to draw his attention. "Look at them, they're so smitten." He rolled his eyes at this, intent on getting through the airport.
"You should enjoy the sun! You won't get much of it when we return to England." Her words were a taunt. He didn't want to enjoy the sun, he wanted to go to bed.
He felt like a raisin in the sun. He was ground under the wheels of the Earth, becoming a cloud of pulpy dust by the oppressive heat. He was an English boy, pale and fragile to temperature changes.
"Yeah, Jimmy, enjoy the sun!" Bonzo mocked her, putting on a terrible valley girl accent.
"There isn't any sun to enjoy. We're inside," he grumbled.   They were finally through airport check-in and were headed to their cars. Bonzo, Robert, and Lorelei would be in one, Jonesy, Gwen, and Jimmy in another. Gwen didn't want to be separated from her new best friend but was content to dote on Jimmy in the meantime.
"After you, Lord and Lady." Jonesy held the door open and put on a regal tone.
"Thank, my good sir." She smiled as she slid into the car.
When the door shut the black car lurched forward and began a 45-minute drive to the hotel. This was the reality of touring, not a glamorous display of royalty, but rather, a series of menial tasks and tiring travel. "How are you enjoying the sights, my love?" Robert asked.
"Oh, they're great! I love San Diego." They were gazing into one another's eyes, lost in the vast seascapes of correlating blue.
"We've only been here an hour. And most of that time was spent in the airport." Bonzo's voice was a harsh reality, an end to their gushy romance.
"We've been doing our own sightseeing." Robert was the ever-charming romantic, always saving an awkward moment. He was graceful and practiced in wooing women, knowing exactly what to say to make a girl swoon. This is exactly what Lorelei did. Her face flushed pink, and she smiled wide. "That's my favorite one." He leaned in to kiss her.
"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ," Bonzo groaned, "I'm not listening to this for 45 minutes. I'll jump out the fucking car into the street." The three were doing sightseeing of their own in the other car. They leaned down, peering out of the windows to catch a glimpse of the water below.
"San Diego is California's beach city. They also have the largest number of small farms in America." Jonesy read from a laminate brochure he found in the airport lobby. It was titled San Diego: The Sights You Will Sea." This corny joke caught his attention, and he pulled it off the shelf to save him from death via boredom.
"Still not as nice as San Francisco. That's my favorite place in this whole state," Gwen spoke. Memories of her childhood and adolescence flooded her mind. Scenes of '50s America were fresh and lovely, the world never looked so innocent and beautiful.
"Did you grow up there?" Jonesy asked.
"Oh, yeah, it was really nice. I've never been to San Diego, though." "So how can you know if San Francisco is better?" He asked.
"Because it's the best city in the world. Nothing could top it." She wore her title of Californian with pride.
"You've clearly never had a fresh croissant in Paris," Jimmy said with a coy smile on his face.
"Okay, maybe it's not the best city in the world, but definitely in America."
Jonesy frowned, "I hated San Fransico. Too many people."
"I agree," Jimmy chimed in, "too many homeless people."
Gwen rolled her eyes.
-
"I just love the sun here. It warms me and brings out the color in my eyes." Lorelei was smiling with a dreamy look in her eyes. Every inch of her was filled with bliss.
Their hands had found each other and rested together on the seat of the car. Bonzo refrained from groaning at the sight of their love. He was getting sick of everyone. The next tour would be without all the romance, he hoped.
"How is Jason, Bonz?" Robert changed the subject to keep the mood light.
"He's doing wonderfully! I'm already teaching him how to play. He has a little kit and everything. It really fills my heart with joy to see him banging away."
His voice was lighter than she'd had ever heard. His face was flushed with a glow of happiness, filled with total glee.
"You have a child?" She asked.
"Yeah, his name is Jason. He's four. He's the love of my life." "That's so sweet. You must've been young when you had him. You don't look old enough to have a child." "I had him when I was 18. It kills me to be away from him." He was still beaming at the thought of his family, despite the sadness that he felt. It wasn't easy for any of them to leave their families.
It was easier for Jimmy, who was more interested in furthering his career than settling down. Of course, it wasn't on purpose that any of them had children so young. But Jimmy was careful. He had a plan in life and knew having a child was not in that plan. Not for the time being, at least. "That warms my heart. Robert, do you have any children?" She asked. This conversation was now going sour, and he had to do something to change the subject. Reminiscing and thinking of family were something they all did, but not to the women they brought on tour.
"Yeah, Robert, do you have any children?" Bonzo was smiling at him. It may have seemed innocent on the surface, but Robert knew what his true intention was. It wasn't an extension of glee for his well-being, it was a challenge. He was an ape bearing his teeth, ready for the slaughter. Robert was a spiritual man, he believed in a plethora of God's. He never knew if he was in their good graces or not, not attending mass or any kind of church. He didn't even pray. But on this day, he knew somebody or something was looking out for him. Before the silence got too thick, filling with awkward hesitance, the car stopped abruptly. It slammed them against the seats, their heads banging into the vinyl. He'd never been so happy to have a headache. "Jesus, what was that?" Bonzo peered out the window.
"Must be traffic." Robert shrugged, turning back to Lorelei. She was worried, wearing an expression of deep concern. He came to her rescue and calmed her nerves. He was a knight, clad in heavy chainmail and brandished a shield. He stroked her cheek and her hair, whispering sweet nothings in her ear while Bonzo investigated. He got out of the car and could now see that the traffic was heavy, the highway at a dead stop. He went back to the door and looked into the window before getting in. Robert and Lorelei were attached at the mouth, engaging in a makeup session.
How disgusting, he thought.
With a groan, he flung open the other car door and pushed Jonesy over so he could scoot in. "Those two are playing tonsil tennis. I couldn't take it, so I'm crawling in with you." He said as he sat next to his friend. "Welcome to the party!" Gwen handed him a neatly wrapped joint that was already lit. Small streams of smoke billowed from the end and he blew a breath out the window.
"Perhaps being stuck in traffic was not the best place to do this," Jimmy remarked.
"Oh c'mon, don't be such a square. Have you taken a hit from this yet?" "No, he hasn't!" Gwen said.
"Here, take this." Bonzo held it up to his mouth. Jimmy retracted his head, throwing it back into the vinyl headrest of the seat.
"No, I don't want it." His lips were pursed, and he was shaking his head in an attempt to get the drummer off of him.
"I'm not stopping until you take a hit!" He cried. Jonesy and Gwen were laughing at the scene, watching Jimmy be tortured with the threat of a good time.
"You may not realize this because he's jovial now that you're around, but he's really a serious guy. There's not much funny business with him. If there's work to be done, he doesn't mess around." Jonesy leaned into her and spoke directly into the shell of her ear. The two men continued to fight.
It escalated into Jimmy screaming. "I don't want it!" It was the loudest Gwen had ever heard him be.
"Yes, you do!" Bonzo screamed back.
"No!" "Yes!"
Jimmy grabbed a fistful of Bonzo hair and pushed him back, causing the joint to fall onto the floor of the car. "Oh, shit!" Jonesy hurried to pick it up before it burned a hole in the carpet.
"What the fuck is going on back there?" Peter rolled the divider down to speak to the group. "Bonzo, what the hell are you doing in here?" When no one answered he barked again, asking what was going on. They all scrambled to answer, speaking at once. "Jesus Christ, stop your bloody yammering. I don't want to hear any more yelling!" He was gruff as usual.
"Or he'll turn this goddamn car around!" Gwen jested, causing them all to laugh. Even Peter was chortling, cutting the sound off with the rolling of the divider.
"Seriously, man, take a hit," Bonzo spoke once more when their laughing stopped.
"You are impossible," Jimmy rolled his eyes but took the joint from his fingers. It was a nub now, barely able to pass from one hand to the other.
"Let me get that before you put it out," Gwen spoke, awaiting the white gift. "Can you hold it for me? I don't want to burn my fingers." She spoke in a small voice.
"Of course." He smiled so sweetly it melted her heart, just as she did his. Jonesy thought it was sweet watching them like this. For some odd reason, seeing Jimmy in love was endearing. Perhaps his best features shone when in the presence of love, or she just brought out the best in him. He held the joint in place while she inhaled, his hand resting on the cleft in her chin. This was one of his favorite features of her face. He enjoyed pressing his lips to the fissure or placing the side of his index finger in the slit.
"Thank you, Princess Pagey." She spoke the vile words so sweetly. His face broke into a light blush of pink as he looked at his friends, mortified.
Bonzo's belly danced with a deep laugh. The corners of his mouth were turned up in a display of complete elation, his skin wrinkling and cracking. His laugh was thunderous and great. It bounced off the walls of the car.
"Princess Pagey! Oh, man, that's a good one!" Bonzo wiped a genuine tear from the corner of his eye.
"Does anyone want this before I put it out?" She asked, holding the roach up.
"Yeah, let me get another one." She passed it to Jonesy who took one last large puff and then handed it to Bonzo. He took a hit and then tossed it out the window.
"That's littering, Mr. Bonham," John spoke in an exaggerated posh accent, sounding almost like Jimmy.
"Oh, my mistake, Mr. Jones. I wouldn't want to desecrate this beautiful city."
"It's the city of beaches, I'll have you know." He continued with the accent.
"It's about to be the city of roaches if we keep this up!" Bonzo's voice raised in volume once more, filling the car with his laughter. He was a loud man, meant to be seen and heard. Aside from the obvious, his almost violent drumming, he was a screamer. He chose to speak loudly with a passion, whether or not he was angry. The falling out between Bonzo and Gwen had been slightly resolved. They resigned to being friendly once more. It was understood that they had different ideologies and should keep them out of the conversation. With three weeks left of the tour, there was no point in pissing your pants over something so meaningless, that being a disagreement or hurt feelings. There wasn't room for either of those things on tour. It was music and fun, and if neither of those was happening, you were asleep. "I've got to get back to my car. I don't want the love birds to get lonely." In an instant he was gone, leaving the three once again. When he reached the car Lorelei and Robert were no longer kissing. He thanked the heavens and got in.
"The traitor returns." "I had to leave. You guys were eating each other. I wasn't going to subject myself to that. It's a pain worse than death!" They didn't laugh at his joke.
"Traffic is letting up. Fasten your belts." Richard spoke above their chattering.
The rest of the ride was smooth. Traffic was lighter, thankfully. Peter could feel the steam coming from his ears as his foot danced on the gas pedal. As he drove, he went over the list of things he needed to do. Book flights for the next three shows, return the rented car before the flight in two days and call Atlantic. He wandered around his responsibilities for the remainder of the ride.
-
They'd finally arrived. The hotel was an oasis.
"Oh, God, my back hurts!" Bonzo was out of the car and yelling already. Robert and Lorelei were close behind, hands interlocked. Jimmy and Gwen were less showy in their relationship, content to walk next to each other.
"Mine too. I'm glad I can lay down for a little bit before the show." Said Jimmy.
"I can rub it for you if you'd like." They were speaking low as they walked into the hotel. This was a small display of love that only the two could witness. Their entourage trailed behind them, meandering on the pavement.
When they were finally safe in their hotel room they settled into the fresh sheets. "It's not even my own bed, but I don't care. I am just happy to be out of that car and not in a plane."
He agreed with her and then turned to face her. His eyes fell on her and trailed along the gentle curve of her spine. He placed his hands on her delicate skin and rubbed small circles. She was so beautiful, much more so than she ever imagined, he thought. She had entranced him from the moment he gained knowledge of her. That feeling hadn't left him, not for a second since he'd known her.
She looked at him now, turning to see the familiar expression on his face. He was deep in thought. His brows pressed together, creating a crease like the gutter of a book. He was vast and complex as words on a page, much like the wrinkle in his brow. She wondered what he was thinking. He was a mystery, one begging to be solved. She wanted to wiggle her way into his brain and absorb all the knowledge, be a part of the inner workings of his mind. She didn't have to speculate for much longer. He spoke once more.
"You know, it's funny, I feel like the more I get to know you, the less I learn." His soft voice was large in the hotel room, filling the space with his warm lilt. She was silent, pleading with her eyes for him to continue. "I'm opening myself up to you, trying my best to take my shoes off and open my doors. I don't feel that from you."
"I know, I'm sorry. I'm so scared to let my walls down, scared to let you in fully. I've been burned, and I don't want that again. So I try to lock myself up, but you always wriggle your way back in. It's like I can't help but let myself soften when I'm with you."
"So start telling me things."
"Like what? What do you want to know about me?" She almost wanted to giggle. They'd known each other for what felt like forever at this point. But he was right, he didn't know much about her. She kept it all under lock and key. It was inaccessible to even herself at times.
"Everything. I want you to tell me everything."
"Well, that's a pretty broad topic."
"Getting you to talk is like pulling bloody teeth," He broke his concentration with an airy laugh, "Start with your love life. That's not hard, right?"
"I'm afraid."
He groaned. "Why? What could you have to be afraid of?"
"I'm afraid you'll judge me. I don't have the most normal past."
"What could I possibly judge you about?"
"Okay, I'm just gonna be honest," she sighed hesitantly, "I've dated women in the past."
"Well, there's nothing wrong with that. As a matter of fact, I've been with men before. So I guess that's something we're both being honest about."
"You're bisexual?"
"I guess you could say that." They sat together for a moment, their faces burning. It wasn't common to meet someone who was so open about it. But they found solace in each other's omission. Jimmy broke their silence, his voice now slightly shaken, "You're avoiding the question. Tell me about your love life. What's your past like?"
"I've told you about Dominic."
"No, you've mentioned him, and then I was verbally accosted by him in the most polite of manners. I haven't a clue what happened."
After a hefty sigh, she gave in. In a painful recalling, she told the story of a tumultuous young couple. Two people who weren't meant for each other falling as if they were fated, lovers. Tears brimmed in her eyes, scalding her ducts as they threatened to take presence. The dull aching in her chest began to drum, mimicking the pattern she thought she had quieted years ago. But it was still present as if it had never stopped. The galloping beat of torment ravaged her, sending a wave of agony down her spine.
Her mind wandered over the last moments she shared with Dom. "Okay, I guess I should start from the beginning. We had been dating for almost two years and things had started to fall apart. He didn't seem to care anymore. I don't know if he was firm in the idea that he had me or if he didn't want to be with me. But I was still in it. I wanted him more than anything, I was doing everything I could think of to make him love me and stay with me. But it didn't seem to be working, and I could feel it. I didn't want to admit it, but it was true. I had an art gallery coming up. It was the first time my work was going to be shown in a real gallery and I was so excited. It was part of a larger exhibit, but I had a few pieces being shown. He was going on a trip with his friends to explore Africa. He was really into Pan-Africanism and wanted to see all of the countries that had recently won their independence. I was supportive, I understood why he wanted to go. I even wished I could go, but I would've never asked. It was a month-long trip where he and four other friends went to Niger, Chad, Cameroon, and Egypt. He was going to get back the day before my event but promised he would go. The night of the show began, and I was so excited. I wore a pretty dress, did my hair and makeup, and bought some nice new shoes. And he didn't show up. I spent the entire gallery waiting for him and by the time it was over I realized he wasn't coming."
"Oh, hey, Gwen." Dominic lay in bed, a blanket pulled up to meet his chin.
"Um, hey. Did you forget something?" Anger painted her features.
"What?" He asked.
"You are unbelievable!" She cracked, anger spilling out all over the room like gushing water from splintered vases. She was yelling, something she didn't do often. "You missed my gallery!"
He was unphased, a dazed look on his dark features. "You don't have anything to say for yourself?" She asked.
"I was jetlagged. I totally forgot about your gallery, sorry."
"Are you really sorry or are you just saying that? Because you don't seem sorry at all." "I mean, I am, but there's nothing I can do about it now." "You could've just been there! I don't know why it's so hard for you to care. I care so much about everything you have going on. Even your stupid trip!" "My trip wasn't stupid. It was the most important four weeks of my life!" "I don't care! Oh my God, I don't care. Can you just shut up about yourself for five seconds?" "If that's how you're going to be, then you need to leave." "Fine. But if you let me leave then I'm done. I'm not coming back." "You're gonna end a two-year relationship over an art gallery?" "It's not just about the gallery. It's about everything. It's about the fact that you're not even here. Even when you're with me I don't have you. You know I was knocking for twenty minutes? I had to get someone else to let me in the building. You're just in your own little world that I'm not a part of. It's like I have to beg you to love me, to even see me." She was exploding now, a mess of tears and anger falling from her eyes and draining down her alabaster face.
"That's not true. We just went out last week." He rebutted. Fireworks of impossible anger erupted behind her eyes.
"That was a going-away party for one of your friends, that wasn't a date! I was only there so you didn't go alone. I am your convenience, your routine, I'm not your girlfriend." "If that's you feel, then you should leave."
A new low had begun, a possibility she hadn't thought of. He would want to end things. He didn't want to put the work in to even accept responsibility. It was a dead end.
"You're not even going to fight for this? You're just going to throw in the towel?" He shrugged, looking into her wild eyes. They were glistening with the threat of tears, scalding, and fat. "Fine."
Her heels thudded against the floor and stomped out of his apartment. The door slammed shut with a heavy thud. When she was alone the tears escaped. They pushed onto her cheeks, streaming down her soft skin. It was a scene of youthful pain, the first cut. A panicked breath caught in her throat, a weight on her chest. She was hyperventilating now, the memories of abandonment flooding her mind. Now she was alone, shut out in front of his sealed door. Just like that, it was all over. There was no constellation prize or closing statement, just pain. What stung the most was that she didn't have items to collect from his apartment. There was no trace of her in his life. But he coated every inch of her small apartment. The paint from his palette was the tint that covered her eyes, rose-colored glasses of his love. She saw everything with his hues, a strip of his preferred shade in every wall of her brain.
Jimmy looked at her, seeing the pain echoing on her face. It was still haunting her. The ghosts of her past lived inside the cavernous heart that occupied her chest. "I'm sorry, love, that sounds awful. I understand why seeing him again made you so upset. He sounds like a wanker."
His slang made her giggle, a strained laugh filled with a bittersweet pain. "It's no matter now. It's all over, been many years. I suppose I'm a fool for even stressing over it." She dismissed her feelings, pushing tears off the sides of her face.
"No, no, you're not. Your first love isn't something that ever goes away. The pain stays forever, in some capacity." His hand rested atop hers, playing with the flesh that coated her frame.
"You know what the worst part of all of this was?" "What?" "I bought him that stupid ticket for his trip." This made him laugh and she joined in, a sorrowful sound of wheezing. He looked at her again, seeing the pain melting slightly. It was like glittering snow, shrinking under the loving touch of the sun. "At least I have you now. Someone who I feel really cares for me. Even if it took a while for that to happen." "Nonsense. I've always cared for you." "No, the trusting." She said. "You didn't trust me?" "Not totally, not for months." When his face stood still, twisted in pain, she elaborated. "You must understand, you are a Rockstar who asked me out and basically moved me in on the first date. I thought for the first few months that this was a fleeting fling." She spoke nervously, playing with the ring enveloping his index finger.
"I guess I can understand that. I was afraid for a long time to really speak to you about how I felt. I thought you wouldn't reciprocate. I was afraid of losing you. But I see now that it was in vain. We are deeply entranced with one another; I can see it in your eyes. You feel the same way I do, and we share a deep connection." He danced around the words he truly wanted to speak. He was lying, telling a half-truth.
He was still afraid, honestly, too scared to jump off the ledge. When he'd brought up his feelings of love in the past, it wasn't always met with enthusiasm. He'd also used promises of his love to get what he wanted, something he was trying to avoid now.
"Yeah, you're right. I'm not scared to be honest with you anymore. I see that you welcome it with open arms, you embrace me, no matter what I have to say."
Love made liars of everyone, specifically the two lying together now. She was terrified of him, clinging desperately to the walls that separated her heart from his harsh mouth. He could say the words that would tear her down at any point, could wave her off and tell her it meant nothing in a matter of seconds. It is a heavy hand that can wipe away the hard-wrought foundation away in seconds. She was blind to his delicate and light fingers, the way the lithe mechanisms worked away at her heartstrings in the gentlest of manners. He wasn't the man to crush her, he wouldn't dream of it. They were two lovers speaking endlessly of their feelings, one scared to be brazen, and one too blind to see the capacity at which the other would go to avoid true intimacy.
Now they lay down for bed. The sun had set, and the moon was showing, paintings murals on the walls of the hotel room. The scene that lies in their room was an image of love. The couple lay in bed, creating an air of trust as they talked. Their usual topic of conversation was thrown, and she delved into her feelings.
"I still don't really know what I want to do. Each day is an exploration of a dark path for me. But one thing I know for certain is that I was supposed to meet you. We were fated. That day I wasn't even supposed to be there. Allison was going to be your photographer, but she called in sick. And the moment I met you I saw everything. I saw our future, our love. I'm so happy every day that I have you." Her words were low in the dim of the night, being absorbed by his skin due to their proximity. Their lips twisted into matching smiles, mirroring their contentedness for one another. It was there, in a hotel room in San Diego, that something changed. Their hearts had opened, totally vulnerable with clear skin that exposed the delicate and vital workings of their minds. They talked in length about childhood, aspirations, traumas, and other life-altering occurrences. The two reached a new understanding, delving deep into their psychologies and producing a profound and unknown intimacy. "I feel like this is what I've been waiting for. I've spent my whole life in bated breath, searching for something. I hadn't known quite what it was until I found you. You are a key that's opened all my doors, pushed all my windows open. You're a smoke in my lungs, one that is wholly cleansing and alluring." He spoke words of affirmation now, toying with the ends of her hair. His eyes glistened with intense lust, one not intended for matters of the flesh. His fixation was on her figure, the gentle curve of her waist connecting with her hip, a smooth and righteous sight. This did not mean he was longing to consume her body. The desperate flicker in his eyes, set on her skin, was an effect of his need for closeness. He wanted to feel her skin under the calloused pads of his fingertips, to be enraptured in the scent of her. An orgasm was the least of his concerns at this moment. He was content to touch her. She too wanted desperately to hold him. A spell of love was put over them, causing her to pull him in close. He was first facing her, lips dangerously close, but she encouraged him to turn over. Finally, he pressed himself against her, their bodies in perfect contour as they molded together. The expanse of his spine dug into her commodious chest as he took note of the feeling of her. The swell of her chest was soft and fleshy like sweet, summer fruit. His longing to touch her vanished when he felt her deft fingertips in his hair, massaging his scalp. His eyes rolled in his head at her calming touch. He was almost asleep in an instant. As she explored every inch of his crown his frame grew smaller in her arms. He was shrinking under her touch, morphing into the child he described. She imagined him sitting at the breakfast table, munching away at toast and guzzling tea, just as he had delineated earlier. A maternal instinct grew in her. She was now watching over the man she lied with, protecting him from the fallacies that plagued his mind, ones that had been developed over a lifetime of undue criticism. Her mind raced over the picture he had painted of a demure boy, latched to his mother's side, one who closed his eyes and shook his head at any chaos or change. He told her of his propensity to hide. He found a spot everywhere he went to tuck himself into, shielding his sensitive heart and prying eyes. She imagined now that she was holding that boy, bringing him impossibly close to the beating spot in her chest. His eyes were still shut, having fluttered closed the moment he felt the heat of her body against him. A gentle hum built in the back of his throat when her hands found his neck, massaging away at the tense muscles. He was melting completely under her touch. His lips cracked open, a sigh escaping. This caused a laugh to ripple from her, disrupting her attack on his worries. He could feel them burning off now, steaming as they flew from him. When her tired hands stilled, he turned over, gaze resting on her reposeful face. Her eyes were still ragged and red, stained with tears. The beauty that danced on her features was not understated, still present even in the stale sadness. Traces of the tantrum existed but threatened her splendor not. A quiet production began, a duet that neither rehearsed. He reversed their roles, now cradling her tired frame in his arms. His hands explored her body, drawing patterns over the fabric of her clothing. It was soft, a gentle plea for closeness. Tears pricked in her eyes, foreboding and terrifying her as they threatened to release. A sniffle built in her, echoing through the quiet room. This caught his attention, causing him to pull her impossibly close. He petted her hair and kissed each inch of her that he could reach. The tears scalded her face, cascading in a stream of sadistic madness. His thumbs wiped these tears, washing her pain and drinking as it drained from her pores. She felt peaceful in his grasp. He held a paternal grip on her, slowing rocking as she wept. His patience was fatherly, soft, and affirming in the way only belonging to a man totally in love. In this protective hold, relaxation befell her, rest finally finding her. His hands tangled in her hair, even long after she fell into a sleep. He stayed up for half the night, leaning over her and listening to the steady composition of her breathing. A feeling fell over him, shaking him. Never before had he felt so completely at home in a person, naked and eased under her gaze. He was drowning in love, lungs wetted by her treacly tongue.
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Taglist:
@anothercanyonlady​ , @jonesyjonesyjonesy​   @paginate54 , @seventieswhore , @jimmypages , @jimmys-zeppelin​ , @jimmysdragonsuit13    
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airandangels · 2 years ago
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running thoughts about S3 E01 of The Mandalorian, "The Apostate"
jesus Christ of COURSE the Mandalorians have their child soldier investiture ceremonies RIGHT WHERE A FUCKING MOSASAUR CAN POP UP AND RUIN THINGS
oh my GOD you guys
simple FISH RADAR could've given you the early warning you needed to avoid this malarkey!
THIS IS WHY YOU'RE ALMOST EXTINCT
YES YOU'RE PERSECUTED BUT YOU'VE ALSO GOT NO SENSE
also okay wow
way to upstage Paz YET AGAIN Dindin
you slay the dragon when he can't AND you have A HOT NEW SPORTSCAR and you still have a CUTE BABY
also listen
THERE'S A SQUID IN THE WARP TUNNEL
or maybe it's one of those space whales that Ezra Bridger disappeared with?
ngl I was a little disappointed one of the street musicians on Nevarro wasn't Max Rebo
awwwww they put up a statue to droid Taika
Greef's clothes just keep getting bigger
"The belters are mining the asteroid fields at the edge of the system." Just like The Expanse! let us know how that works out for ya, you're already dressed a bit like Chrisjen Avasarala
absolutely no one is impressed by Grogu's weak sauce name
you know where else you could be apostate landed gentry? TATOOINE
WHERE YOU HAVE FRIENDS WHO LOVE YOU
I'm not saying Greef doesn't care about you but COME ON why move to a planet with one friend (since I don't expect we'll be seeing Cara again) when you could hang out with FOUR friends some of whom are VERY GOOD-LOOKING and talk with fun accents (Kiwi and Cowboy)
c'mon Greef they just wanna get drunk in a school
you know, for a pirate, you don't have a very good hat. Hondo Ohnaka's hat would take a shit on your hat.
GREEF HAS TWO LITTLE BRIDESMAID DROIDS CARRYING HIS CAPE
A GOLD STAR TO WHOSEVER IDEA THAT WAS
what do you mean you need him back
he EXPLODED in LAVA
what makes you think the brainy parts are even there?
I REALLY FEEL LIKE IG-11 WAS A LOT MORE BLOWN UP AT THE TIME THAN THIS MAKES IT LOOK
I mean always happy to have more Taika
assuming he still talks like Taika
maybe his voicebox is effed up
maybe now he sounds like Jemaine Clement
"now that's using your head" says Din
JESUS Din
oh okay it's the tiny cute mechanics from the sequels
HOW DID YOU CRAWL IN THERE
a new side quest begins
did Grogu want to cuddle the tiny mechanic or eat it
YOU KNOW WHO YOU COULD TAKE WITH YOU TO HELP YOU ON YOUR QUEST
COBB VANTH
JUST SAYING
I bet he's feeling a lot perkier by now! and would do basically anything for you if you bought him a drink and put your hand on his knee under the table
like you wouldn't even have to rub it
ohhhhhhhhhhhh he's starting to deliberately TEACH the baby
the pirate is suddenly talking MORE PIRATEY and saying things like Avast
I miss the Space Scotsman, remember him? "Tell that to Kanjiklub!"
CAPTAIN GREENBEARD
will not be appearing much in this episode, I suppose they're just introducing him so he can be a recurring and very moist foe
With Din talking to Grogu so much more, explaining things to him, do you think his little speech delay will start to come right?
say what you will about Bo-Katan Kryze, she certainly can strike a louche pose on a throne. She's no Darth Maul, mind you. Then again, who is? (blows a kiss towards hell for him)
If she's so depressed and all her plans are fucked, why is she still striking poses on thrones?
get a job Bo-Katan
you can always work private security
or be an aesthetician because given what we know about your age clearly you have SOME incredible skincare secret (and your hair always looks nice)
I mean... the planet was poisoned decades ago, that's why everyone was living under domes.
That felt pretty short, I have to say.
I like how you can see from the concept art over the end credits that both Bo-Katan's throne and her pose got fancier over time
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15th November >> Mass Readings (USA)
Wednesday, Thirty Second Week in Ordinary Time 
or
Saint Albert the Great, Bishop, Doctor. 
Wednesday, Thirty Second Week in Ordinary Time 
(Liturgical Colour: Green: A (1))
First Reading Wisdom 6:1-11 Hear, kings, that you may learn wisdom.
Hear, O kings, and understand; learn, you magistrates of the earth’s expanse! Hearken, you who are in power over the multitude and lord it over throngs of peoples! Because authority was given you by the Lord and sovereignty by the Most High, who shall probe your works and scrutinize your counsels. Because, though you were ministers of his kingdom, you judged not rightly, and did not keep the law, nor walk according to the will of God, Terribly and swiftly shall he come against you, because judgment is stern for the exalted– For the lowly may be pardoned out of mercy but the mighty shall be mightily put to the test. For the Lord of all shows no partiality, nor does he fear greatness, Because he himself made the great as well as the small, and he provides for all alike; but for those in power a rigorous scrutiny impends. To you, therefore, O princes, are my words addressed that you may learn wisdom and that you may not sin. For those who keep the holy precepts hallowed shall be found holy, and those learned in them will have ready a response. Desire therefore my words; long for them and you shall be instructed.
The Word of the Lord
R/ Thanks be to God.
Responsorial Psalm Psalm 82:3-4, 6-7
R/ Rise up, O God, bring judgment to the earth.
Defend the lowly and the fatherless; render justice to the afflicted and the destitute. Rescue the lowly and the poor; from the hand of the wicked deliver them.
R/ Rise up, O God, bring judgment to the earth.
I said: “You are gods, all of you sons of the Most High; yet like men you shall die, and fall like any prince.”
R/ Rise up, O God, bring judgment to the earth.
Gospel Acclamation 1 Thessalonians 5:18
Alleluia, alleluia. In all circumstances, give thanks, for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus. Alleluia, alleluia.
Gospel Luke 17:11-19 Has none but this foreigner returned to give thanks to God?
As Jesus continued his journey to Jerusalem, he traveled through Samaria and Galilee. As he was entering a village, ten lepers met him. They stood at a distance from him and raised their voice, saying, “Jesus, Master! Have pity on us!” And when he saw them, he said, “Go show yourselves to the priests.” As they were going they were cleansed. And one of them, realizing he had been healed, returned, glorifying God in a loud voice; and he fell at the feet of Jesus and thanked him. He was a Samaritan. Jesus said in reply, “Ten were cleansed, were they not? Where are the other nine? Has none but this foreigner returned to give thanks to God?” Then he said to him, “Stand up and go; your faith has saved you.”
The Gospel of the Lord
R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
----------------------
Saint Albert the Great, Bishop, Doctor 
(Liturgical Colour: White: A (1))
(Readings for the memorial)
(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Wednesday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)
First Reading Sirach 15:1-6 She will fill him with the spirit of wisdom and understanding.
He who fears the LORD will do this; he who is practiced in the law will come to wisdom. Motherlike she will meet him, like a young bride she will embrace him, Nourish him with the bread of understanding, and give him the water of learning to drink. He will lean upon her and not fall, he will trust in her and not be put to shame. She will exalt him above his fellows; and in the midst of the assembly she will open his mouth and fill him with the spirit of wisdom and understanding, and clothe him with the robe of glory. Joy and gladness he will find, an everlasting name he will inherit.
The Word of the Lord
R/ Thanks be to God.
Responsorial Psalm Psalm 119:9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14
R/ Lord, teach me your statutes.
How shall a young man be faultless in his way? By keeping to your words.
R/ Lord, teach me your statutes.
With all my heart I seek you; let me not stray from your commands.
R/ Lord, teach me your statutes.
Within my heart I treasure your promise, that I may not sin against you.
R/ Lord, teach me your statutes.
Blessed are you, O LORD; teach me your statutes.
R/ Lord, teach me your statutes.
With my lips I declare all the ordinances of your mouth.
R/ Lord, teach me your statutes.
In the way of your decrees I rejoice, as much as in all riches.
R/ Lord, teach me your statutes.
Gospel Acclamation cf. Acts of the Apostles 16:14b
Alleluia, alleluia. Open our hearts, O Lord, to listen to the words of your Son. Alleluia, alleluia.
Gospel Matthew 13:47-52 Both the new and the old.
Jesus said to the crowds: “The Kingdom of heaven is like a net thrown into the sea, which collects fish of every kind. When it is full they haul it ashore and sit down to put what is good into buckets. What is bad they throw away. Thus it will be at the end of the age. The angels will go out and separate the wicked from the righteous and throw them into the fiery furnace, where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth. Do you understand all these things?” They answered, “Yes.” And he replied, “Then every scribe who has been instructed in the Kingdom of heaven is like the head of a household who brings from his storeroom both the new and the old.”
The Gospel of the Lord
R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
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kigiom · 2 years ago
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@weidli and @reginaldbright and @chiropteracupola tagged me to share the first ten lines of my posted fics! sorry for taking two months but, here we are
Rules: ‘share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.’
I decided to use the phrase "first lines" fairly liberally, so they're all under the cut!
1. There’s a familiar face sitting in his usual spot when Thursday sidles into the pub on a Saturday evening. / Morse looks pale, shabby, his shock of ginger-ish hair already going grey at the temples. Jesus Christ, Thursday thinks, standing stock still on the corner to his usual alcove in the tiny pub, it’s only been two years. (rockets for mary, Endeavour)
2. "Here's to looking at you," you say, raising your glass. / He's too tired to say anything, you can see that. He's swaying a little and his eyes are bruised, the vivid blue of his irises glassy. He's clutching his own glass like a lifeline. You wish your heart wouldn't do ten backflips in a row every time you see him. (it walked out of the light, MASH)
3. “Why are we here again?” / It’s the first thing Hawkeye’s said in a while. BJ looks over at him, surprised, only to find him trying to light a cigarette with shaking hands. (all singing must now be howling, MASH)
4. Don't go, he begs. / BJ looks at him. BJ smiles. He's getting smaller, and smaller, and smaller, and he's waving across the endless expanse of washed out brown and grey. (all that is gone (and all that's to come), MASH)
5. “Ain’t you cold out here?” / Stephen made a harrumphing noise and kicked at a loose bit of gravel. / Behind him, Jack sighed and stepped closer. (thirteen angels standing guard ‘round the side of your bed, the aubreyad)
6. “Would you ever grow your hair out?” / Keith made a considering noise into Ewen’s chest. He was lying half on top of Ewen and clearly beginning to fall asleep, even though he was still in shirt and breeches. (I'm going home, no more to roam, The Flight of the Heron)
7. “Does it hurt?” / For a moment, his fingers hover over the scar; Livesey makes an aborted noise under his breath as Trelawney traces a fingertip gently over the smooth, livid skin. While not large, it’s raised and almost knotted, uneven round the edges. (and we march on, hand in hand, Treasure Island)
8. After a day's chasing, they had boarded their prize. From the opposite deck, in a brief lull, Jack had looked over and seen Stephen crawl up onto the deck of the Surprise (even though he should have been below - why hadn't he stayed below?) and stand his ground, cat-quick with a sword, sharp with a pistol; for a blessed second they saw each other across the distance, then Stephen had grinned viciously and disappeared. Jack had been glad to see him alive and dangerous, unspeakably so, even though Stephen on deck in battle made him anxious - why was he not with his patients? Why was he not safe below decks? (for grief to refrain, the aubreyad)
9. Francis passed him an apple. / Their fingers brushed and lingered. James had started noticing this more and more, these little touches, sitting at their table in their kitchen in their house. How they almost always sat next to each other rather than opposite, for a reason James chose not to examine for the sake of his own sanity. How their knees would touch under the table, how their elbows knocked against each other, too, how their hands brushed with no gloves or layers of fabric in the way now. (undertow, The Terror)
10. “We’re too far from the sea.” James said one day. / He was standing on the garden lawn and staring out over the hills as he said it. The farmers had been digging as of late, for what purpose exactly neither of them had bothered to ask. However, they did know that that was the reason for the faint smell of silt and sea that permeated the air, stronger on the breeze. (we sell our lives to the sea, The Terror)
I don't have the braincells for ten people but I'm gonna tag (sorry if you've already done it!):
@edge-of-green @riot-in-bloom @someawkwardprose @terribleoldwhitemen @phoenixflames12 @valley-o @rhaill and @starsreside (I hope the last three of you have published works but I know you write at the least)
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