#raleigh holiday

[raleightransplant]

Happy Holidays from Dmitri and Marty! December 2022.

[raleigh-in-the-garden]

Rosh Hashanah: Shana Tova Umetuka

[bryanreganphotography]

Day - 102

[doviewingsstudio]

Positive Affirmations Key Fobs coming soon! Shop at the NC Museum of Art in Raleigh, NC or on my Etsy shop soon!

[booksandwords]

Rudolph the Tattooed Librarian by Raleigh Rubens

Read time: <1 Day Rating: 4/5 Stars

The Quote: I know I shouldn't stereotype. But the usual workers here are women in their eighties, with white-grey hair and sweet smiles. Rudy looks like an exotic animal in here, — Nate

Free Read when you sign up for Prolific Reads.

Okay, here we go. This novella is all set in one late afternoon in a local library. It's a fairly simple piece that plays with all kinds of tropes, all the better for fast reading. The best friend's brother, back in town, tattoos are hot, inexperienced and experienced. Look we all know where this novella is going when it starts just now how it is going to get there. And I really enjoyed it. It's just lovely. It's cute and I like the characters. Rudy and Nate both feel human. They both have flaws and insecurities. Rudy is as tattooed as I was hoping. The most important part of their coming together in a way was to do with Rudy's tattoos. At that moment I was Nate, I love tattoos. Sorry tattoos and just exploring them, touching them are like catnip for me in books. Rudy takes great pleasure in Nate enjoying his tattoos and that is a lot for me. Everything just works well. Nate's inexperience is portrayed well as is his caution and adoration for Rudy. I like Rudy's perfect obliviousness to his effect on Nate for a long time. There is little to no Christmas element it is set in a snowstorm that is about it. It's a simple plot that is exactly what it says on the tin. If you like the blurb you will likely enjoy the book. Look it's not going to win any literary award but it is fun while you're reading.

Full disclaimer I am a librarian and this does play a little on librarian kink, I have a lot of issues with the objectification of those in my career. There are two stereotypes for a librarian. The older woman with her twin set and glasses or the sexy librarian short skirt and flirty gaze. This does not mean she is unintelligent she has just weaponised her appearance. But I can deal with it for the sake of a seriously tatted-up tattooist (and it's about time the men got some objectification sorry lads).

[reportwire]

Thanksgiving travel rush is back with some new habits

Thanksgiving travel rush is back with some new habits

The Thanksgiving travel rush was back on this year, as people caught planes in numbers not seen in years, setting aside inflation concerns to reunite with loved ones and enjoy some normalcy after two holiday seasons marked by COVID-19 restrictions. Changing habits around work and play, however, might spread out the crowds and reduce the usual amount of holiday travel stress. Experts say many…

[hungwy]

Some facts about my birthday (October 29):

1390: First trials of witchcraft in Paris

1618: Walter Raleigh, colonialist statesman, soldier, and explorer, is tried for treason and executed

1682: The founder of Pennsylvania, William Penn, lands at what is now Chester, PA

1740: James Boswell, diarist and biographer, is born

1863: The International Red Cross is formed in Geneva

1882: Jean Giradoux, playwright and novelist, is born

1888: The Convention of Constantinople allows for free maritime passage through the Suez Canal; Li Dazhao, co-founder of the CCP and mentor of Mao, is born

1889: N.G. Chernyshevksy, author of "What is to be done?", dies

1897: Joseph Goebbels, the nazi, is born

1901: Leon Czogolsz, anarchist, is executed for the assassination of William McKinley

1910: A.J. Ayer, logical positivist, is born

1914: The Ottomans enter WWI

1923: The Ottoman Empire dissolves; Turkey becomes a republic through the efforts of Atatürk

1924: Zbigniew Herbert, poet, is born

1929: Black Tuesday, the crash of the New York Stock Exchange and the beginning of the Great Depression

1938: Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, president of Rhodesia, is born; Ralph Bakshi, animator, is born

1940: The US begins its first peacetime military draft

1948: Franz de Waal, ethologist, is born

1949: George Gurdjieff, philosopher and mystic, dies

1956: The Suez Crisis begins

1962: The Beach Boys release "Surfin' Safari"

1967: Musical "Hair" opens off Broadway

1969: The first computer-computer link established on ARPANET

1971: Ma Huateng, co-founder of Tencent, is born; Winona Ryder, actor, is born

1975: Franco's 36-year long leadership of Spain ends

1985: Evgeny Lifshitz, physicist, dies

1991: The spacecraft Galileo makes the first ever visit to an asteroid

1995: Terry Southern, screenwriter of Dr. Strangelove, dies

2004: Al-Jazeera broadcasts Osama Bin Laden taking responsibility for 9/11; European Union leaders sign the first EU constitution

It is the Christian feast day of:

Abraham of Rostov

Blessed Chiara Badano

Colman mac Duagh

The Duai Martyrs

Gaetano Erico

Michele Rua

Narcissus of Jerusalem

Theuderius

It is a public holiday in:

Cambodia (Coronation Day)

Turkey (Republic Day)

It is a private holiday in:

USA (National Cat Day)

Everywhere (my birthday)

[areyoudreaminof]

Worth The Wait: An Elucien Week Playlist

Happy Day One of @elucienweekofficial! Enjoy this playlist of songs about fate, love, and patience that I hope inspire you!

Tracklist and lyrics behind the cut!

Love Letter From the Sea to the Shore-Delaney Bailey

Cause you hold in my tide I would die a thousand times Just to see you in another life I think I loved you in a thousand ways 'Cause you remain stagnant on my trouble days No matter how far I drift away You'll be there when I come back one day

Silence-Before You Exit

Talking Why's everyone always talking? Noise in my head, but it’s nonsense I can't feel nothing Guarded Don't overthink how we started Knew from the second you walked in This could be something Everybody’s looking for a love to start a riot But every time I look in your eyes The world gets quiet

Comin' Around Again-Amber Marks

So let's see where the night goes Maybe love's comin' around again

Why Don't You-Cleo Sol

Why don't you just let go And quiet down your ego Don't complain about finance I know your daddy weren't a real man Go ahead and live your dreams To me you're stronger than a whole team

I wanna see you smile Even when you think I'm angry It's true it might take a while But it's between you and me

Homemade Holiday-babygirl

Homemade holiday Catching rays, wearing shades Inside, dead of the night Who needs pearly gates? You’re the same, hear your name I die, bye bye

Forever & Always-Zeph

Honey, now we're older, but we'll never age I don't think my love will ever start to fade My attachment to you isn't subject to change My heart's yours forever and always

The Day That I Met You-Matilda Mann

But then you called, only to say You'll never love somebody else this way And though I'm still battered and bruised I forgave the world the day that I met you

The people talk, it's background noise I don't wanna hear nobody else's voice There's somethin' sweet about your scent It's like lavender came and never left

Garden's Heart-Natasha Khan & Jon Hopkins

I hear a whisper in the trees Where I am you and you are me You need to find a way back here Remember what I said: The space that is in between You have to fight it

Love Sneakin’ Up on You-Bonnie Raitt

Fever turns To cold, cold sweat thinkin about things we ain't done yet Tell me now I gotta know, do you feel the same? Do you just light up at the mention of my name?

Till Forever Falls Apart-Ashe & FINNEAS

Out on our own Dreamin' in a world that we both know Is out of our control But if shit hits the fan, we're not alone

Jupiter-Flower Face

We can leave right now, never come back home You're all I need Forget everything that we used to be Take me to another place, fly me up to Jupiter We can run away But I'll always feel at home with you

Lucky For You- Novo Amor & Gia Margaret

Lucky for you I’m nothing without The thought of starting all my days With the mornings when I see you I’m bored of staring at my face Every morning when I need you

coffee-Miguel

Old souls we found a new religion Now I'm swimming in that sin, baptism Peach colored skies we feel the sunrise Two lost angels discover salvation Don't you wish we could run away now?

Sardine Song-Lav

If I had a home It would be our tin can Caught in your red hair Breathing in salt and making you swear Please Who do I have to be? I'll dip myself in honey Climb into the spaces in between your teeth

Ends of the Earth-Lord Huron

To the ends of the earth, would you follow me? There's a world that was meant for our eyes to see To the ends of the earth, would you follow me?

Unicron Loev-Raleigh Ritchie

There’s something about you That takes my blues away Life’s nothing without you I can’t get through the days I’ll never be cynical ‘Cause you wouldn’t have it I believe in miracles, I believe in magic

Morning Dove-Genevive Stokes

We don't talk much When I'm around you I'm a statue When you're running I can't catch you But it's not time There's a way to your defiance so I'll wait to break thе silence

I'm On Fire-Bruce Springsteen

Sometimes it's like someone took a knife, baby, edgy and dull And cut a six-inch valley through the middle of my skull At night, I wake up with the sheets soakin' wet And a freight train runnin' through the middle of my head Only you can cool my desire Oh, oh, oh, I'm on fire

Worth the Wait-Kali Uchis

Most people don't know how to love, that's why they're empty Nothing will ever be enough, that's why they envy Gotta be careful with my heart because I love deep

How Deep is Your Love?-PJ Morton

How deep is your love? I really need to learn 'Cause we're livin' in a world of fools Breaking us down, when they all should let us be We belong to you and me

Taglist: @born-to-riot @asnowfern @cauldronblssd @dawneternal @foundress0fnothing @goddess-aelin @goghwilde @kataravimes-of-the-shire @iftheshoef1tz @acourtofladydeath @chunkypossum @amandapearls @climbthemountain2020 @popjunkie42 @queercontrarian @rosanna-writer @tunaababee @temperedink @lainalit @xtaketwox @cursebrkr @octobers-veryown @separatist-apologist @separatist-apologist @the-lonelybarricade @jules-writes-stories @velidewrites @melting-houses-of-gold @panicatthenightcourt

[featherandferns]

guilty as sin : where are they now?

jj maybank x routledge!fem!reader

word count: 700

read guilty as sin (part 1) | Thank you so so much for 1000 followers!!! Since starting this blog in May of 2023, I have written so many characters and storylines. I get so many lovely anon messages telling me about their favourite universes and wondering what happens next after my fics have ended. So, I thought to celebrate 1000 followers, I’d indulge. Here’s the (current) where are they now for all of my fics so far…

Raleigh airport was rather slow paced compared to Denver. People moved with minimal urgency and staff didn’t feel the need to yell at half-asleep passengers at three in the morning at TSA. It didn’t feel all that long ago that you were here last, but as a person, you feel years older. Your eyes stay steady on JJ, who’s wandered up to a departures board and is studying it intently. He turns around, half-smiles, and walks back over to you, hands in his pockets. 

“A’right,” he says once he’s near. “Says Gate B21. They ain’t boarding yet but…”

“I should probably go through soon,” you mumble, finishing his sentence for him. You purse your lips and look at the TSA queue. It’s not very long. Sensing your hesitance, JJ runs a hand down your arm, guiding your attention back to him. There’s a queasy smile on his face. It’s reassuring but also somewhat reluctant. 

“I’ll see you soon,” JJ says, “just two weeks.”

“In hell,” you mutter. 

Chuckling shortly, JJ shrugs. “Yeah, well, two weeks for a life in Kildare. A deal’s a deal.”

“True,” you sigh. “Just kinda wish you could come with.”

“Same.”

The PSA announcement for a different flight serves well as a prompt to go through TSA. There’s no point in delaying the inevitable. Besides, JJ was right: only two weeks. You had your bag full of ever growing art supplies, including the paints from JJ, to keep distracted. Your mom had “requested” you return to Colorado at least three times a year, one of which being for one of the holidays. It was finally time to hold up your end of the deal. 

“Well, guess I’ll see you later,” you say, smiling up at him. 

JJ dips his head and plants a kiss to your lips. It’s short and fleeting, but stings just as much knowing that you won’t feel it for two weeks. It’s a tough pill to swallow after being attached at the hip for the past three months. 

“See you around, Little Routledge,” JJ tries to joke.

He picks up your carry on and hands it to you, and you begin to walk towards the TSA line. You turn one last time to give him a wave and JJ waves back, smiling that same smile from before. Two weeks, you tell yourself. Two weeks of your mother’s prying questions and her boyfriend’s abusive arrogance. Your friends from Colorado made you somewhat excited to return. They’d been making plans since you said you were coming back to visit, including a three-day stay at a campsite by the lakes, which already granted you some escape. Besides, you knew this time that you were coming back to Kildare. More importantly, you knew you were coming back to JJ. With that final reminder, you pass through security and venture to your gate. As promised, you drop JJ a text when you board and another just before you take off, switching to aeroplane mode. 

About an hour into your flight, you decide to dig through your backpack to retrieve your smallest palette of paints. The pocket sized sketchbook you pull out serves almost as a journal for Kildare, keeping track of the houses, the stores, the beaches and the marshes. Littered amongst the scenery are sketches and paintings of your friends and, of course, JJ. There’s a couple of pages littered with JJ’s doodles too. Cartoonish things, one of which is you circled in a love heart. It’s purposefully sappy and sweet, and it makes you smile every time you flip through that page. Just before the next blank page, something catches your eye. A short note that you didn’t write. You recognise the hand though. It’s JJ. 

Little Routledge

I’m not good at writing letters so I’ll keep it brief. I miss you and can’t wait for you to come back home. Stay safe in Colorado and call whenever you need. Happy Thanksgiving. 

Love JJ

You smile to yourself. It’s nothing that Shakespeare might envy but you know JJ isn’t the sort to write letters or leave love-notes. These few lines mean the world and more. You’re careful not to mark the page as you begin to sketch on the opposite side of the book. Today’s drawing? Of JJ, just moments before, as you recalled him in the airport, waving goodbye (for now). 

[starsreminisce]

SJM Romance Week Day One First Date

Elain took a deep breath, attempting to focus on the breakfast spread before her. She scooped up a spoonful of fruit, trying to quell the fluttering butterflies in her stomach, but her efforts were futile.

She regretted teasing Lucien by jokingly asking if their outing to the Day Court was a date. What had possessed her to say such a thing, and with such bashfulness that bordered on flirtation? Yet, the mere sight of his half-smirk, a telltale sign that he was up to mischief, was enough to set her heart racing and her cheeks flushing pink.

It had only been a few weeks since they had found themselves engaged in conversation during the Starfall Ball. It felt as though fate had drawn them together, and Elain, lonely for stimulating company, couldn't bring herself to leave his side. From the moment their eyes met, she knew she was captivated.

"I find it fascinating that we, as fae, have our holidays while humans seem to revel in celebrations just for the sake of it," Lucien remarked, his tone casual.

"We weren't privy to your holidays," Elain replied, her stomach knotting with nerves.

"You don't have anything akin to Nynsar or Starfall?" another member of their circle inquired.

Elain smiled faintly, shaking her head. "No, we're not familiar with those."

"I wouldn't expect much from humans," the individual remarked dismissively.

Elain's jaw clenched, but before she could respond diplomatically, Lucien interjected.

"Which perhaps lends more significance to their celebrations," he remarked, his russet eye flashing with intensity. "We celebrate out of obligation, while humans celebrate purely for joy."

"Don't underestimate humans' capacity for using obligation as an excuse for revelry," Elain retorted, meeting his gaze head-on.

A glint danced in Lucien's eyes, a soft hum emanating from his mechanical one. "And yet, their celebrations are undoubtedly more enjoyable than this dull affair."

Elain found herself laughing, unable to stifle the sound as it bubbled up. "And how do you imagine they would celebrate?"

With a smirk, Lucien glanced around conspiratorially. "I imagine the Cavendishes would host a grand ball, much to the chagrin of the Raleighs."

Elain's laughter rang out louder, and she covered her mouth, aware of the two families' longstanding rivalry. As others in the group inquired about the families, Lucien looked to Elain for confirmation, and she eagerly supplied details, finding herself drawn into conversation. Lucien eventually excused himself, passing by Elain with a whispered tease about the upcoming nuptials between Celeste Cavendish and Ambrose Raleigh.

Hooked on his words, Elain seized his wrist, demanding more information. Lucien winked at her mischievously before slipping away.

In the following weeks, their interactions became habitual. Elain would wait for Lucien before his meetings with Rhys, and he would regale her with gossip and stories. Their conversations evolved, delving into personal matters and offering advice on family disputes.

When Lucien mentioned that he wouldn't be meeting with Rhys as usual, Elain couldn't hide her disappointment. She expressed her desire to attend the Day Court, prompting Lucien to offer her company.

"Is this your way of asking for a date?" she teased, her heart racing at the thought.

"Do you want it to be one?" Lucien replied, his smirk sending shivers down her spine.

She felt her pulse quicken, her cheeks flushing. "No, I'm just tired of being cooped up here."

"Then let me remedy that," Lucien's voice lowered, a hint of seduction lacing his words, causing her breath to catch.

And so, she found herself here, getting ready under the guise to roam around Velaris. Feyre was at work in her studio and Rhysand would be overseeing some project in the Illyrian mountains. She paced to calm her nerves but it still did little. She could feel the bond between her and Lucien tighten and stepped outside to greet him… and the pegasus he was stroking the neck.

As Elain approached, her heart leapt at the sight of the majestic pegasus, its wings spread wide as if embracing the sky. "Lucien," she breathed, her voice filled with awe.

The pegasus turned its head towards her, its large, intelligent eyes meeting hers with a knowing gaze. Elain couldn't help but squeal in delight as the horse nuzzled her hand, its warmth and presence grounding her nerves.

"Helion does have a flair for the dramatic," Lucien remarked with a snort, his gaze fond as he stroked the pegasus's neck. "You can imagine my surprise when she showed up at my apartment."

Elain turned to Lucien, surprised by his revelation. "You now reside in Velaris?" she inquired, curious.

"Not entirely," Lucien replied cryptically, evading her question with a small smile.

With a gentle hand, Lucien guided Elain closer to the pegasus. "Here, let me help you up," he offered, his voice warm and reassuring.

As Elain stepped closer, Lucien's strong arms encircled her waist, lifting her effortlessly onto the horse's back. She felt a rush of excitement mingled with a sense of security as she settled into the saddle, her pulse quickening at the proximity of Lucien behind her.

With practiced ease, Lucien swung himself up behind her, settling himself comfortably against her back. Despite the chill of the air around them, Elain felt a comforting warmth radiating from his body, enveloping her in a cocoon of safety and reassurance.

"You sounded so excited," Lucien commented softly, his breath warm against her ear. "It's infectious."

Elain couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at her lips, her heart fluttering at his words. With Lucien behind her and the pegasus beneath them, she felt a sense of exhilaration and anticipation coursing through her veins as they prepared to take flight.

A gentle nudge from Lucien, the pegasus spread its wings and leaped gracefully into the air. Elain's laughter rang out joyfully as the wind rushed past them, the city of Velaris shrinking below them as they soared higher and higher.

With an equally graceful descent, the pegasus touched down in the courtyard of the Day Court, and Lucien helped Elain dismount, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. As they stood together, facing the magnificent structure before them, Elain felt a sense of wonder and anticipation for the adventures that awaited them within the halls of the Day Court.

But their excitement was abruptly interrupted by the arrival of a striking woman adorned in the traditional Day Court attire, her kohl-rimmed eyes flashing with impatience.

“Lord Helion is unable to see you today,” the woman stated sternly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Lucien's expression remained indifferent. “And yet he sends me his pegasus to meet him,” he remarked dryly.

The woman's demeanor softened slightly, though she still appeared unimpressed. “Lord Helion sends his regrets, but you two are free to wander wherever you please,” she replied before turning on her heel and departing.

As the woman disappeared into the bustling courtyard, Elain couldn't help but suppress a coy smile. “If you wanted to ask me on a date, you don’t need all the false pretense,” she teased.

Lucien chuckled, his eyes dancing with amusement. “You caught me.”

Elain turned to face the vibrant scenery around them, the sun casting a warm glow over the Day Court. The sea sparkled in the distance, its waves crashing against the shore with a soothing rhythm.

“Since Helion can be a bit of a busybody,” Lucien shrugged, “want to see where I hide from him?”

Without waiting for a response, he hooked his arm through Elain's, and with a graceful twist, they vanished into thin air, reappearing amidst a stunning flower garden. As Elain's gaze wandered across the garden, she marveled at the intricate kaleidoscope of colors and scents that surrounded them. Delicate roses intertwined with exotic orchids, their petals shimmering in the dappled sunlight. Towering sunflowers stood proudly alongside delicate lilies, their golden hues contrasting with the soft pastels of the surrounding blooms.

"It's like a symphony of flowers," Elain breathed, her voice filled with wonder.

Lucien nodded, his eyes alight with pride. "Found this in my youth," he explained. "I believe it was a gift from the then High Lord to his mate."

Elain's gaze softened with understanding as she took in the significance of the garden. "It's a beautiful tribute," she murmured.

"It's different than the Spring Court," Elain observed, her eyes scanning the garden once more. "There seems to be flowers from all parts of the world."

"Indeed," Lucien agreed, gesturing towards a particularly exotic bloom with a flourish. "Spring is wonderful, but it's only limited to the flowers of that season. Here, you'll find blooms from every corner, brought together in harmony."

The air was alive with the hum of bees and the soft rustle of leaves, and a gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of blossoms, enveloping them in a cocoon of tranquility. Sunlight filtered through the lush foliage, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow on the ground below.

Elain felt a sense of peace wash over her as she wandered through the garden, her fingers trailing lightly over the velvety petals of a nearby rose. It was as if time had slowed to a standstill, allowing her to savor every moment in this enchanting sanctuary with Lucien by her side.

As they wandered through the garden, they marveled at each new discovery, losing themselves in the beauty of nature. They walked for hours, their conversation flowing effortlessly as they shared stories and laughter beneath the canopy of blossoms.

Finally, they came upon a majestic tree, its branches spread wide in a welcoming embrace. Beneath its shade, a picnic awaited them, laid out with an array of delicious treats and refreshing drinks.

“Did you plan for this too?” Elain nudged at him, a playful glint in her eyes.

Lucien pursed his lips, a faint smile playing at the corners. “I told you Helion can be a bit of a busybody.”

With a graceful gesture, Lucien invited Elain to take a seat, his eyes soft with affection as he poured her a glass of chilled wine. As they shared their meal amidst the fragrant blooms and dappled sunlight, Elain couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over her. In this magical garden, with Lucien by her side, she felt as though she had found a piece of paradise.

As hours slipped by, they talked and laughed, basking in each other's company as they watched the sun dip below the horizon. Eventually, as the sky began to darken, Elain turned to him with a curious expression.

“Now what?” she asked, her tone filled with anticipation.

Lucien raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I take you to the river house?”

“That’s it?” Elain replied, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

Lucien hummed thoughtfully. “Well, there is one other place I can take you.”

With a gentle squeeze of her hand, Lucien winnowed them away to a small Summer Court city bustling with life. Stalls adorned with colorful banners offered an array of tantalizing foods, the air filled with the mouthwatering scent of grilled meats and freshly baked pastries. A warm summer breeze carried the salty tang of the nearby sea, adding to the festive atmosphere.

“What is all of this?” she asked, her voice tinged with excitement.

Lucien chuckled, his arm wrapped around her waist as he guided her through the bustling crowds. “Welcome to a nighttime festival in the Summer Court,” he explained. “It's a celebration of music, food, and merriment that lasts well into the early hours.”

Elain's eyes widened in wonder as she took in the sights and sounds around her, her curiosity piqued by the unfamiliar surroundings. She felt a thrill of excitement coursing through her veins as she and Lucien wandered from stall to stall. Elain couldn't resist stealing bites of Lucien's food as they went, her laughter mingling with the bustling energy of the crowd. However, Lucien made no attempt to take any of hers, his attention solely focused on her.

In the distance, a towering structure loomed against the night sky, its intricate design illuminated by twinkling lights. Elain's gaze was drawn to it, her curiosity piqued by its imposing presence. "What's that?" she asked, pointing towards the structure.

Lucien followed her gaze, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "That's a ferris wheel," he explained, his tone tinged with nostalgia. "It's a ride that offers a breathtaking view of the city from above."

Elain's eyes sparkled with excitement as she beheld the towering ferris wheel. Eager to experience this new adventure, she turned to Lucien with a radiant smile.

"Thank you for bringing me here," she said, her voice filled with gratitude and anticipation.

With a nod of agreement, Lucien led her towards the ferris wheel, their hands intertwined as they joined the queue. As they ascended into the night sky, Elain couldn't help but feel a sense of exhilaration wash over her. The world seemed to shrink beneath them as they reached the pinnacle, the city spread out below like a glittering tapestry.

As they descended back to earth, Elain turned to Lucien, her heart full with gratitude for the magical evening they had shared.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice soft with emotion.

Lucien smiled warmly, his eyes reflecting the glow of the city lights. "It was my pleasure," he replied, his gaze tender as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face.

Feeling emboldened by the magic of the night, Elain leaned in and pressed her lips to Lucien's, a gentle yet electric kiss that spoke volumes of the unspoken feelings between them. As they parted, a dazzling display of fireworks burst into the sky, casting an ethereal glow over their intertwined figures.

Lucien took Elain's hand, his touch sending a shiver down her spine as he led her to a secluded spot high above the bustling city. There, amidst the tranquil stillness, they watched in awe as the fireworks painted the night sky with bursts of color and light, each explosion igniting a fire within them that burned brighter with each passing moment.

Wrapped in each other's arms, they shared stolen glances and lingering touches, the air thicken with anticipation. With every beat of their hearts, the tension between them grew, a palpable energy that crackled in the air like static electricity.

As the final bursts of color dissolved into the night's canvas, leaving behind trails of fleeting beauty, Elain turned to Lucien with a gaze filled with longing. The air was charged, every heartbeat echoing in the silence that enveloped them. Without a word, she leaned in, her movements graceful yet urgent, her lips seeking his with a hunger that mirrored his own.

Their kiss was a symphony of passion and desire, a dance of lips and tongues that ignited a firestorm of emotions within them. In that moment, time seemed to stand still, the world fading away until there was only the two of them, lost in the intensity of their connection.

They clung to each other, their bodies pressed together as if trying to merge into one, each touch sending sparks of electricity coursing through their veins. The night air was filled with the soft sound of their mingled breaths, the gentle rustle of fabric as they held each other close.

And as they finally pulled away, their lips swollen and tingling with the remnants of their kiss, they were left breathless and wanting more. The weight of their unspoken desires hung heavy in the air, a promise of things to come as they stood together beneath the canopy of stars, their hearts beating as one in the magic of the night.

"Now what?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.

Lucien's gaze burned with intensity as he met her eyes. "I take you home," he replied, his voice husky with desire.

"To that apartment you have in Velaris?" Elain teased, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

"I didn't think you were that kind of female," Lucien chuckled, his tone laced with amusement.

Elain's laughter mingled with the soft hum of the night air. "I would figure being your mate would come with some sort of privilege," she teased back, her eyes dancing with mischief.

"Elain," Lucien said, his half-smirk sending a jolt of anticipation through her veins. "Would you like to come to my apartment for some … tea?"

"Yes," Elain breathed, her heart pounding in her chest. "I'd love that."

With a shared smile that spoke volumes of the unspoken promises and desires between them, they made their way back to the city, their steps light with anticipation for the moments yet to come.

[foxglovecove]

👻 🎃 Halloween at the Shatterdome 🎃 👻

Because Halloween is the best holiday

Sprang forth from a convo with @bitmeddler in which it was decided that Hermann would be a reluctant bat and Newt would be Sexy Trespasser

Also featuring:

Mako - a ghost

Raleigh - “this is my halloween costume” t-shirt

Tendo - Elvis

Stacker - Count Stackula (brilliant name by Bit)

Chuck - Sexy Mailman, poor Max is the package

Herc - would not dress up, leaves Stacker to babysit the crazy

[comphy-and-cozy]

Glittery - Andrei Svechnikov

Pairing: Andrei Svechnikov x Reader (f)

Summary: The holidays are an important staple in your relationship, and this year, you’re at the top of Andrei’s wishlist.

Word Count: 4.7K

Author’s Note: This was originally inspired by another hockey, but fits everyone’s favorite Russian winger all too well. Title by Kacey Musgraves, but definitely listen to this song for additional inspiration (s/o to @suitandtys for this discovery). Feel free to use your own imagination for the necklace/lingerie, but if interested, here and here are the links to what inspired them.

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY) & fluff. Hastily (and poorly) translated Russian, Christmas-specific celebrations/themes (minimal but still referenced), swearing, unprotected sex, choking, oral sex (m + f receiving), brief size kink, creampie. A few very poor holiday-themed puns that I will not be apologizing for.

Masterlist / Moodboard

December in Raleigh isn’t quite as magical as in Russia, or even further north in North America. There’s no snow, and the air is a balmy 60 degrees, which makes it very difficult to get in the holiday spirit.

Naturally, Andrei is busy, but when you started dating he’d made it a priority and a tradition to deck out his (now your shared) apartment to make it feel like more festive, even if it didn’t feel that way outside. Every year, he brings out the garland, the tinsel, the festive snowmen to place around the house, and, of course, going to pick out the perfect tree — and decorate it — is an all-day affair. He does it for you, to keep things feeling warm and cozy even while he’s away, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t remind him of home with his family and brother.

Gifts quickly became a staple for the holidays, too. He’s a giver, always purchasing small little souvenirs for you from his travels, and he loves to shower you with gifts for holidays, birthdays, and really any celebration. Growing up with very little, Andrei knows how it feels to receive next to nothing, and now that he has the means, he wants to make sure that none of his loved ones ever have to go without a gift ever again. 

So, it’s safe to say that your gift exchange day is all but sacred within your apartment. He insists on both of you wearing matching pajamas, with holiday music playing through the speaker and the only light in the house coming from the string lights hung up all over the place.

This year, he’s gone all out, purchasing you a lounge set, a new purse, some books, and no shortage of skincare from your Sephora wishlist. He never fails to make you feel completely pampered — something you’ve long since insisted isn’t necessary, despite the fact that he is a multi-millionaire now.

The hot cocoa on your coffee table has gone cold, the marshmallows floating in the liquid melted into what’s left in the bottom of your mugs. There’s a trash bag full of torn open wrapping paper, an equally large stack of boxes of each of your open gifts beside it.

“I have one more for you,” Andrei smiles, reaching for a small box tucked away underneath the tree. It’s neatly wrapped – certainly not by him – with a small white bow on top.

The package is light, and while your fingers carefully tear the paper, not wanting to damage the elegant design, your mind is running with the possibilities of what could be inside the box.

Your brain registers the dark navy of the box before the gold ‘HW’ that’s stamped into it, and you gasp when you realize. Inside the box is a gorgeous diamond choker, sparkling brighter than anything you’ve ever seen, and you are helpless to do anything but gape at the jewelry sitting in your lap.

“What do you think?” Andrei probes, a smile flitting on his face as he watches your reaction.

“Andrei, this is — a Harry Winston is —” you swallow, suddenly nervous to even be holding the box in your hands lest you damage the necklace inside. The box alone surely costs more than what you pay in rent, and you shudder to think how much he’d dropped on this. “It’s so expensive.”

“Don’t worry about the price, baby,” he says. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s the least I can do to show you.”

You can feel the tears welling up before you see them on the rims of your eyes, watery and emotional and overwhelmed. Carefully, you set the box on the table before lunging at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He chuckles, the sound deep in his chest, rumbling against your own as the gratitude falls in droplets down your face.

“Andrei,” you whisper. “This is so… so generous. You — I — it —”

There’s a pause as you let out a sob, letting his hand rub soothingly on your back.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, kisa,” is all he says back, his arms pulling you in to squeeze you tighter. 

He’s patient, allowing your sniffles to subside before he pulls away, smiling warmly at you as he wipes your happy tears away. Leaning to the table, he picks up the box and looks at you as he picks the necklace up out of the grooves to keep it in place, holding it toward you. “Want to see it on you.”

“Drei, I have my pajamas on,” you remind him, gesturing to your flannel set, far from complementary to a diamond necklace that’s worth a small fortune. 

“I don’t care. You’re still beautiful.”

With a bashful smile, you turn and gather your hair, allowing him to place the piece around your neck, fastening the hook in the back. It’s heavy as it rests against your chest, and when you look down, all you can really see is the brightness from the way the Christmas tree lights reflect in the diamonds. 

When you turn around to show him, Andrei’s lips curl into a grin, wide enough that you can see the missing tooth that you love so much. His eyes are warm, falling to the sparkle on your neck, before he looks back up into your eyes. “You look so beautiful, dorogoy.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, shy, your fingers gently touching the diamonds. Leaping up from the couch, you dash into the bathroom to look in the mirror. It feels entirely out of place in your regular bathroom and your dinky pajamas, but the sparkle makes everything else around it less vibrant. It’s beautiful.

“I thought you could wear it to the holiday party,” Andrei’s voice says from behind you. He appears in the mirror before his arms slip around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as he admires your reflection.

“Of course, Andrei,” you agree with a smile. “It’ll be perfect.”

Soon enough, the party day arrives. Your dress is hanging neatly on a hanger in the closet, carefully steamed by you the day before. It’s green, satiny smooth, falling at your mid-thigh and hugging your curves in all the right places. When you step out of the bedroom all done up, Andrei has to stop in his tracks to stare. 

“Malyshka…” 

Heat rises in your cheeks under his gaze, his eyes roving over your legs, up your body, over the deep red on your lips, finally coming to the Harry Winston necklace laying beautifully on your décolletage. The sound that leaves his throat is a combination of a groan and a whimper, speechless at the sight of you.

“You are fucking stunning,” he finally manages, his own cheeks tinged pink. “You look so beautiful.”

You step forward until you’re standing in front of him. Your hands find his tie, Windsor-knotted neatly around his neck, the deep green matching your dress almost perfectly. His breath hitches in his throat when you run your hands along the material, feeling the softness beneath your fingertips, admiring your man and how nice he cleans up.

Ghosting his lips with yours, you dodge him when he presses forward to kiss you, smiling when you hear his whine. “My lipstick is still drying, Drei. Don’t want you to get red all over.”

Andrei’s grumble is low, murmuring something like, ‘want you to get red somewhere’ that has you stifling a giggle. 

Eventually, though, you do grant him a kiss, a chaste one against his pretty lips to ensure not smudging your lipstick or getting it on his face. And as much as you’d love for him to smudge it and take off the dress you’d just put on, duty calls, and you begrudgingly put your desire to the side as you follow him out the door.

The party itself is festive and fun, string lights decorating the room that’s filled with a softly-playing Christmas mix. After a few drinks, Andrei does finally take his hands off of you, though he never strays far, finding your eyes over the sea of heads and offering a wink or a dimpled smile that never fails to melt your heart.

Before long, though, the gathering dies down as the consumption of alcohol increases. You and Andrei bid your goodbyes, unable to deny the desire to get home and take off your heels — along with all of Andrei’s clothes. 

When you step back into your apartment, he helps you shrug your coat off to hang it in the closet. Before you step too far into your living room, you turn to him with a smile.

“I have one more gift for you,” you purr, enjoying the intrigue in his eyes, lit up like the Fraser Fir standing in the corner of your living room. “Wait here.”

The way his eyebrows furrow is endearing, confused at your mystery, watching you disappear into the bedroom. The look on his face when you emerge a few minutes later is even more priceless, jaw dropping in shock at seeing your body encased in red silk, the lingerie doing very little to disguise your curves. Ribbons wind up your torso, culminating in a large bow that’s nestled between the swell of your breasts. On your neck lies the necklace, glittering against your skin while you’re wrapped up like the best present he’ll ever receive.

“Merry Christmas, Drei.”

Andrei exhales slowly, breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. He doesn’t know where to look, can’t get enough of your skin and your curves and the way the diamonds look sparkling underneath your smile. His breath is shaky, broken, as he rises to his feet to meet you, swallowing thickly against the collar of his dress shirt.

“Malyshka, you – wow.”

A large hand extends out to you, and you slip your own into his palm, allowing him to twirl you around for a full view of your backside that’s barely covered by cheeky lace and more silk. You can hear the growl that leaves his throat before you return to face him, his eyes darkened as he watches you.

“All for me?”

Your lips, painted red, curl into a smile. “Always just for you, Drei.”

His hum is a satisfied one, and suddenly the anticipation is fully palpable, practically tangible in the air, as he pauses and waits for your cue. It isn’t until you gently tug at his hand, pulling him away from the door, that he smirks, backing up until the back of his thighs hit the arm of the couch.

His smirk grows even wider as he watches you sink to your knees, your eyes never leaving his. The twitch he gives as your gaze moves toward his belt is involuntary, as is the groan that he emits as your hand runs along his length through his dress pants. 

“Is this my last Christmas present?” you ask cheekily, and he can barely choke out a laugh at your cheesy joke. He’s almost too focused on the warmth of your palm to give his own cheeky reply — almost. 

“This package is too big to gift wrap.” 

If it wasn’t for the way he throbs in your hand, you’d smack him playfully for the stupid pun, but instead you just laugh and roll your eyes before returning to your task at hand. After all, he isn’t entirely wrong. 

Andrei doesn’t breathe as you work on his belt, the smooth sound of the leather slipping through the belt loops, the buckle clinking as it falls to the floor. Your eyes glitter when you tug the zipper down, allowing him the space to hastily kick the slacks the rest of the way off. Before long, his sweater joins the pile of clothes on the floor, and his white dress shirt is unbuttoned, green tie hanging loosely over the cut lines of his abdomen. 

You can’t help the way your hand itches to run along the firm muscle, feeling each ridge beneath your fingertips and admiring his body. While you’ve certainly done your fair share of complaining when he’s up at 6am to workout in the summer, you can’t deny that there’s a very clear benefit that you take plenty of advantage of. 

When your hand trails back down his stomach, your fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers, pausing with a teasing smile. His erection is tenting in the front, more than ready for you to touch him, a small wet patch on the fabric that you yearn to kiss. So, you do, seeing the way his hands clutch at the duvet out of the corners of your eye. 

Eventually, though, your need outweighs your desire to tease, and you shed his boxers, too, feasting your eyes on your favorite appendage of his. It’s tall and proud, weeping at the slit in a silent beg for your mouth. 

The sounds Andrei makes when you take him between your lips are always otherworldly, usually a strangled groan or a sharp intake of breath. Today’s no different, with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth when your jaw hinges to take him deeper. He’ll never know how he got so lucky, to be able to call the beautiful woman who gives the best blowjobs on planet earth his. 

Your lips close around his length, working up and down in a practiced rhythm. If you like the sounds he makes, he loves the sound of you gagging on him, the wet sound of him hitting the back of your throat and the way he slides against your tongue. It’s sinful and sexy and never fails to make his balls tighten.

It takes all of his willpower to do it, but Andrei eventually nudges you, pulling you off of him with a grunt. He can’t afford to finish early, not tonight, when you’re looking so sinfully beautiful and dressed up just for him, literally wrapped underneath the Christmas tree.

When he shifts to sit on the couch, tugging you quickly into his lap, his eyes are hungry as they gaze up at you. You’re so close to where he wants you, and you can feel him — and yourself — throbbing at the proximity. 

His expression quickly changes, though, when your arms reach up behind your neck to remove the necklace, not wanting to damage it before the real fun begins, but Andrei’s voice stops you. “Leave it.”

Freezing, your eyes shoot to Andrei’s, frantic. “Andrei, we’ll damage it —”

He pulls you closer to him, closing the gap between your bodies and suddenly you’re distracted by the heat radiating off of his body and the darkness that’s swallowed his normally beautiful hazelnut irises. His hand moves toward your neck, fingers brushing delicately against the diamonds, feeling the way the glittering stones glide beneath his fingertips. Then, he repeats, “Leave it.”

Swallowing, you lower your hands obediently, sensing the shift in the dynamic with just two words muttered around a thick Russian accent.

Andrei’s hands continue their path over your collarbones, down your arm, sliding over your sides before coming to rest on your hips, a trail of goosebumps following. He’s gentle, like you’re a sculpture made of porcelain, a stark contrast to the rough hands he knows you love.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs. His hands move over your neck, coming to cup either side of your jaw, and you shiver when his lips ghost over yours in the same way you’d teased him earlier. “M’the luckiest man in the world.” 

When he finally presses his lips to yours, you can’t help the sigh that escapes your throat, the feeling of relief almost overwhelming as he kisses you hungrily. His tongue is quick to find the seam of your mouth, delving into it with the passion you awoke in him as soon as you stepped out in your party dress tonight.

His arms hold you, hands roving over your curves, feeling the smoothness of the silk in his hands. Painstakingly, he tears himself away in favor of looking at you. His eyes dart over your body, admiring the piece one last time, committing the sight of it to memory, before one hand reaches forward to slowly tug at the end of the bow on your chest. The material is soft, slippery, sliding apart with ease to reveal your cleavage.

Andrei grins, tipping you backwards gently until you’re on your back on the couch. The vibration in his chest transfers to yours when he hums, his lips pressed to your sternum. He plants kisses all along your chest, dotting along the hem of the bra — if you can even call it that — reveling in his ability to make you squirm. 

Warmth, followed by goosebumps, floods your skin in the path of his lips, your nipples pebbling. His lips itch to touch, torn between continuing their path south and attaching themselves to your breasts. He opts for the latter, wrapping his lip around a nipple while his tongue flicks at the bud, his hand massaging your other breast gently. 

Andrei’s mouth explores your chest, paying equal attention to each bud, before trailing his lips over your rib cage, your stomach, your hips. He leaves a wet trail, coolness overtaking each spot on your skin where the air touches it, a sharp contrast to the fire that burns inside of you.

The next thing you know, Andrei’s hands are roughly flipping you around, tugging you into a kneeling position with your hands resting on the arm of the couch. You’re exactly where he wants you, bent over, your lingerie half undone while he stands behind you admiring the view. 

His lips work their way up your calf, thumbs stroking the muscles in your legs until he finally reaches the place where your ass meets your thigh. He grips your ass in both hands, fingers running along the seam of the lace that barely covers your modesty. His mouth returns to his hands, pressing more kisses along the globe of your ass, and you whine impatiently. 

“Patience, kisa,” he murmurs. “Aren’t you going to let me unwrap my gift? My pretty little vixen.”

It’s only when you feel the bow at the base of your back loosening that you whine again. Both of his hands holding tightly onto your hips make you deduce that he’s using his mouth to tug at the fabric, teeth pulling the satin smoothly until the ribbons fall at your sides. He’s torturing you now, his warm breath cascading over your back causing a heavy throb between your legs.

All that’s left are the strap of your bra and the flimsy lace of your panties before Andrei gets to the gift he really wants: your molten center, dripping just for him. He can’t help but salivate as his fingers drag the material down, slowly, giving himself a last show before he gives into his desires.

Your pussy is glorious, he thinks, perfect and glistening as it’s revealed to him. He swears he can see the reflection of the lights on the tree in the wetness of your folds, and his dick twitches at the sight, itching to be sheathed inside it. 

“So fucking gorgeous,” he whispers, tongue darting out to taste.

“Andrei,” you moan. Your brain is fuzzy, trying to find the words to desperately beseech him to keep going. 

He does, because he always knows exactly what you need, and being the generous boyfriend he is, never fails to provide. It is Christmas, after all.

The sounds of his mouth slurping against your core are nothing short of filthy, grunting into your center at the taste of you. His tongue delves into your folds, probing you with the perfect amount of pressure, never forgetting to grant your clit the attention she desperately craves. Large hands grope and pull at the globes of your ass, holding you open for Andrei’s face to make its home between them, groaning against you.

It’s like this that he makes you come first, aided by two fingers that he plunges into your sopping core. Your cries are muffled by the cushion of the couch, which he doesn’t like, so once he’s let up, he’s quick to flip you around and pin your arms over your head.

“I want to hear you,” he murmurs, the remnants of your orgasm glistening on his chin. You taste it when he kisses you, messily, his tongue covered in you as he pushes it into your mouth.

Andrei shifts on the cushion, his large hands pulling apart your thighs so that he can gaze at his handiwork. Part of you thinks the rest of your tryst would be better suited in bed, but the seconds wasted moving into the bedroom are not worth sacrificing the opportunity to have him inside you now.

You can’t help the moan that falls from your lips when he lines up with your center, dropping a heavy wad of saliva onto your aching clit. His eyes are glittering when he looks back up at you, smirking. 

“Don’t even need it ‘cause you’re already dripping for me, Malyshka,” he breathes roughly. The swollen head of his dick probes at your entrance, teasing you, before he’s rutting between your folds with a groan. An obscene squelching noise sounds from the contact of his skin against your soaked slit. “Hear that, dorogoy? That’s how sloppy your pretty little cunt is. All for me.”

A whine bubbles in your throat at his words, your hips rolling to try and catch him, desperate to have him inside of you. His muscular forearms strain on either side of your head, silver chain dangling loosely on his chest, and you grip the cool metal in your hand to tug his mouth to yours in an attempt to goad him. He plays your game, kissing you back, humming into your mouth when your tongue desperately seeks him out, but he ignores the way your body rolls.

“Andrei, please,” you whisper, your eyes looking up into his, the warm brown in them now a molten chocolate. “I need you.”

“You want it, kisa? Need it?”

“Please, Drei.”

“Say it,” he demands, his voice firm but soft. It’s velvet, almost soothing when he runs the pad of his thumb over your lip. “Tell me what you want. You know I’ll give you whatever you want, malyshka. You just have to tell me.”

Your voice is shaky, though the ardor in his eyes gives you the courage to speak confidently. “Fuck me, Drei.”

Andrei smiles then, handsome in a way that would melt your heart if you weren’t throbbing for him. He presses his forehead to yours, a sweet gesture despite the lewd position he has you in, his breath puffing out over your lips while he runs his length over your entrance one more time. 

When he presses into you, all air in your lungs is quickly pulled out. You’ll never get used to the feeling of him, thick and throbbing, stretching you out in the most delicious, toe-curling way, one inch at a time until you’re stuffed completely full of him. He loves it, too, muffling his grunt in the crook of your neck as he holds himself still for a moment, like he’s hanging on by a thread.

You’re patient, taking the time to wrap your arms around his broad and muscular back. Savoring the feeling of his muscles beneath your fingertips, you admire how big he is – in all aspects of the word. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, warmed by Andrei’s love and heated under his touch.

Andrei begins to move without warning, your walls gripping him tightly as he pushes in and out. The action alone is enough to render you speechless, your entire body fluttering when his thumb brushes your cheek, his lips ghosting against yours. His breath is warm, as are his eyes, pulling moans from you with the finesse of his hips.

One of his hands slides down your body, his steady rhythm never ceasing. With ease, he tugs at your legs until they’re resting over his broad shoulders, then presses forward until you feel the stretch deep in the back of your thighs. He’s deep, almost deeper than he’s ever been, lodged completely within your snug walls.

Soft murmurs in Russian are whispered against your jaw, nonsensical fragments of a sentence that drive you wild. He knows you’re close by the way your hands clutch tightly onto his shoulders, leaving marks for you to admire tomorrow. 

He says something in Russian, then chokes out his own translation. “Come for me, Malyshka.”

You do, his words the final bit of permission you need to fly into your own bliss. Andrei grunts, feeling the way you contract around him, working you through it like he does every time. He grins, pleased with himself.

“So pretty.”

“Drei,” you sigh, not ready for him to part from you just yet. “More.”

For once, he doesn’t argue or make you beg, probably too desperate himself to bother. The way he can maneuver your body so easily will never not be hot to you, his muscles barely working to tug you back into his lap. He twitches against your center when his eyes latch onto the diamonds onto your neck. 

“Ride me, dorogoy.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice, your body scrambling to sink down onto his waiting length with a sigh. His hands flex on your waist, encouraging you to keep going, though his eyes never leave your neck. 

Your body moves up and down, hips moving so that his tip strikes just the right spot that has you throwing your head back. A low growl leaves Andrei’s throat, his hand moving to wrap around yours. Though you can’t see it yourself, you know the contrast between his large hand next to the dainty necklace is powerful, judging by the darkness that has seeped into his eyes. He’s never been particularly possessive, but he does show small flashes — particularly in the bedroom — that drive you wild.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mutters under his breath, accent making him barely comprehensible. “So perfect. All fucking mine.”

Andrei’s other hand grips your hip while his mouth latches onto your breast. He’s all over you, completely invading each of your senses and surrounding your body in everything Andrei. He curses in Russian, the vibration of his voice shooting through your body as you ride him harder, seeking out your crest that’s just over the horizon.

“Touch yourself,” he commands, unwilling to move his hands from your body to do it for you. “Make yourself fall apart all over me, kisa.”

You’re helpless to obey, hand falling between your legs and brushing at your clit. His grip on your throat tightens, and it’s the squeeze of his fingers that send you flying over the edge, vision going fuzzy as your body shudders on top of him. 

You’ve barely had time to recover before he’s finally moving his hands to grab onto your sides, holding you in place while he thrusts his hips upwards, rapidly, seeking out his own release. The red silk ribbons dangle from the bra that’s haphazardly tugged around your middle, forgotten as they ripple from his forceful movements. Involuntarily, moans fall from your mouth as he pounds into you, wordlessly encouraging him.

With a loud, forceful grunt, he stills when he’s buried completely inside of you, twitching as his release floods your center. His hands are still holding tightly onto your sides, forehead resting against your chest as he catches his breath. In an effort to soothe him, you allow your hands to run through his hair, earning a purr against your sternum.

“Ya tebya lyublyu, dorogoy,” he murmurs, the words falling from his mouth like he can’t be bothered to speak or even think in English. You’re still learning, Andrei teaching you when he can, but you know enough to know what he’s said, and you smile softly as you gently pull his head backwards in favor of pressing a kiss against his lips.

“Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu, Drei. Merry Christmas.”

[bryanreganphotography]

Day - 313

[pilotinthestars]

the holding-her-breath girl

rating: g | total word count: 1.5k | @today-in-fic

--

December 1st, 1975

For the winter holidays of 1973, Teena had driven herself and Fox down to North Carolina. His mother had spent most of the past month in bed, but had ventured downstairs to request they go back to the Kuipers’ home for Hanukkah and Christmas. Bill had refused to go, had argued with her, called her a bitch in front of their son, and retreated to his office. Another time, his mother might’ve fought back to get the plane tickets. But she didn’t. With more gusto than Fox had seen from her since Thanksgiving, she packed the both of them in the car and drove.

The Kuipers’ century-old home was just outside of Raleigh and they arrived by late afternoon. Its columns and oppressive atmosphere had always intimidated Fox, but the sight of his grandmother - who had every curl in place since 1916 and never left her room without being fully dressed - was a comfort. Like any good matriarch, she took Teena out of the car and rocked her gently. She let Fox stay in a grown-up guest room, not the room with the twin beds.

His grandmother took him on drives. She bought him a Krispy Kreme donut and took him to a museum in Raleigh. When his mother spent the day in her pajamas and he felt tempted to do the same, she dragged him into their kitchen so that the two of them and the cook could prepare food for the endless train of parties and dinners ahead of them. It had baffled him that she had everything together. Her granddaughter could be dead, and she could still go from house to house, bringing babka and pimiento cheese to all her neighbors.

“I don’t do well sitting in my grief,” she said, one afternoon, after bringing him to a luncheon, encouraged him to put on a collared shirt and pants. “And I’m old, I’ve had to sit in it for years. She’ll come back,” she said, with such a strong sense of finality he nearly believed her for a second. “I have to believe that, or I’ll go mad.”

Read the rest on AO3.

[moltengoldveins]

ALRIGHT LISTEN UP. I am ill. I am tired. And I have an Idea.

As we all know, the two most autistic movies on the planet are Top Gun: Maverick and Pacific Rim. Obviously. I’m sure there are more neurodivergent movies out there but those are the Autism Movies specifically. Plane go zoom = big robot punch, training for suicide mission = finding drift partner to destroy the breach, fatherly admiral dying of health complications = brotherly admiral dying of- you get the idea.

SO. I propose a film. A way for Warner bros or whoever else greenlit the PacRim sequel to redeem themselves. A Top Gun: Maverick- inspired movie about the squads of fighter jets that fought the third Kaiju. Not the first! Not the second! But the third.

PacRim says the second kaiju came six months after the first. It’s implied by Geiszler that the kaiju come regularly, increasing in frequency mathematically, meaning the third would have probably showed up at most six months after the second, twelve months in. that being said, Raleigh names a couple of kaiju in that first little segment, so it’s more likely that it came earlier, and that there were more kaiju before the Jaegers got their act together. The timing is unclear.

Stacker says the first jaegers were built in thirteen months. That’s seven whole months after the first where the first line of defense against these things would have been fighter jets, like we see in the opening scenes, and Raleigh says that the drift technology was inspired by “DARPA Jet Fighter Neural Systems” meaning that, CANONICALLY, fighter pilots were probably the first drift-compatible pairs of military personnel to fight the Kaiju, before the Jaegers even got out of the drawing room.

so, I propose a timeline: it is twelveish months into this war. (You could even put it on some holiday, make the anniversary of the first kaiju a big event.) When the third kaiju appears. Maybe it’s not the Actual Third, sure, but it’s spiritually the third. It’s right before the Mark 1 Jaegers are finished; funding is limited everywhere but ESPECIALLY in the branches of the military that are gonna be made obsolete by the Jaeger program, ie. The fighter pilots. Drift pairs are being picked off left and right to run Jaeger tests; those who won’t ’change with the times’ are being called ‘old fashioned’ or ‘washed up.’ The pilots who are training at this point are splitting their efforts between Jaeger sim time and flight time; none of them are really equipped to fight a Kaiju in a jet right now, but that’s ok. The Mark 1s are three weeks from completion. They don’t need fighter pilots.

Then the third Kaiju emerges, one month off-schedule, and suddenly everyone NEEDS FIGHTER PILOTS.

Literally can you imagine how cool this movie would be? (Obv the plot would be less blatantly inspired by Maverick but I’m going for the Vibes here):

You are a fighter pilot. Your partner died in a training exercise years ago; it took a while, but you’re comfortable with your new drift partner-once-rival. You’ve flown together for years doing espionage, raids, anything and everything. When he stepped back from active duty to become an admiral, he started using his leeway to keep you in the game, get you new drift partners, keep you in the air. Your former partner’s son wants to follow in your footsteps. His mother begged you to keep him out of the drift. You made a call, and it ruined your relationship with the kid, but you can still fly. You can still put your brain in the hands of someone else and soar. For a few hours out of the month, you feel a million feet tall.

Then a god walks out of the sea, and you are very, very small. You’re halfway across the world; you can’t be there in time. But you watch good men, men you know, men you trained with, go down in fiery blips as a Thing, A Great Abomination, A Hand Of God, crushes LA like a styrofoam plate. The government scrambles for a way to defeat it, and they’ve got some Big Thing in the works but in the meantime, they land on… kids. Fresh pilots, paired up with combat sessions and dance competitions and Mario Kart tournaments, shipped bright-eyed and baby-faced to your doorstep so you can train them to fight god and… lose. To fight god and lose. the odds are terrible. You know that. They know that.

Your partner’s kid is in the first class they send you. You have to teach him to fight a hurricane with a tiny piece of metal and his mind, which really just means you have to teach him to die standing. It looks like you might be on track, it looks like he has time to find a drift partner, it looks like you might be able to repair things and that disaster might not fall: it’s only three weeks till the Jaegers are finished, and the next kaiju isn’t expected for another month.

Then the hurricane arrives off-schedule, and you have to fight god yourself, or die trying.

CAN YALL EVEN IMAGINE. The sheer Tension of juggling political expectations with personal relationships and the Breath Of A Demon blowing down their necks at every opportunity. The acknowledgment that no, nobody has any ideas what these things are, nor do they have a plan on how to kill them without massive loss of human life. The third act darkest hour where everyone’s’ relationship problems hit rock bottom and you go “well it can’t get any worse” and then it does because BOOM KAIJU. The final stand as planes are getting picked off. The jets pulling off the impossible and taking the kaiju down, just as the first Mark 1 (barely holding together on duct tape and prayer, piloted by a young Stacker Pentecost) stumbles its way out of the docking bay.

the bittersweet realization at the end that they won, yeah, but they’re still obsolete now. They still pale in comparison to the power of the New Best Thing. They still aren’t Jaegers, so if they want to stay in the game, they have to become Jaeger pilots.

THIS WOULD BE AN AMAZING MOVIE. IS ANYONE LISTENING. AM INASNE OOR WOULD THIIS BE SO COOLL ASHFFHGKGKLS—

[kurosmind-art]

Happy Hispanic Heritage Month!

First time posting about some of my twisted wonderland oc's here lmao (and my friend's ocs), but we got a national holidays collab and I have to show the results, Feliz 18 atrasado! 1.- Bryluen L. Demiror🌹 belongs to me and Rei Gardenia🪷 belong to reiliz 2.- Blake Raleigh🦌 belongs to me 3.- Kieva Backovic🦊 belongs to astroechoes