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honkytonk-hangman · 4 months

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When Jake Met Polly

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake likes to flirt with his Air Traffic Controller or Jake Seresin has never seen When Harry Met Sally.

Warnings: Not much, fluff, flirting and refs to sex.

Note: This is just a short little idea i've had for agesss... reader has a 'name' but it's just her callsign, Polly, as in, short for Polaris. Ty to @hangmanssunnies i wuv u <3

“Hangman to Tower, I am coming in hot.”

You roll your eyes at the all too familiar voice that crackles through your radio, a smile pulling at your lips as you adjust your microphone and briefly throw a glance over your shoulder, just to make sure your commanding officer wasn’t lingering.

“Tower to Hangman. We are appalled at the gross lack of radio etiquette on display,” you respond. Barely a few seconds pass before you receive a reply.

“Come on, Polly, we've been working together for over a year now, what’s a little informality between colleagues?” Hangman says, and despite his jet only being a blip on your horizon still, you know he’s grinning.

“A commercial airline, Lieutenant.” You deadpan, your own smile growing as his laughter comes down the line. “You are cleared for landing, proceed to runway B,” you continue, not wanting him to have to ask again seeing as his approach was cutting it close already.

“Polly, have I ever told you that you’re my favourite Controller?” He asks as you watch him enter the pattern, and click your pen.

“Only every day we work together, Lieutenant.” There’s a beat of quiet as he expertly manoeuvres his jet toward the correct runway.

“And how sexy your voice is?” He goes on, sounding vaguely distracted.

“Once again, Lieutenant, this is not a commercial airline.” You respond, twirling your hair around your finger at his compliment anyway.

He doesn’t reply, and a shock of horror flickers through you as you watch the jet touch down once, something happening with his landing gear that makes the jet shudder, then seem to bounce momentarily before it drops back onto the tarmac and skids to a stop.

“Hangman, do you require the emergency crew?!” You ask quickly, eyes scanning the aircraft as it powers down fully. You wait tensely as the canopy pops up, and a broad figure jumps out, scrambling down the ladder, and once on the ground, he bends low to get a look at the problem.

“No, Polly, thank you. Seems the landing gear malfunctioned, must’ve been in a position to sustain damage once I landed…” his voice trails off, and you watch him straighten, and greet the ground crew who’d raced over to help.

“Glad you’re safe, Lieutenant. Tower out.” You say as he begins discussing with the crew, but briefly turns up toward the tower and raises a hand.

You let out a sigh of relief and settle back in your seat.

–

Around lunch time you make your way down to the tarmac. Hangman’s jet had been cleared off some time ago, and by now you know reports would have been filed, including your own, and his aircraft will have been taken in for inspection and repairs. You’re milling around the ‘crash’ site, inspecting the scrape marks left behind when you hear footsteps from behind approaching you.

“Can I help you ma’am?”

You know his voice immediately, but you know his face too, and when you at last turn back to him you’re graced by the sight of it, bright and unworried, despite the accident he’d had earlier.

“Oh, don’t mind me! I just watched someone bounce their jet off my tarmac earlier, just checking for potholes,” you tell him wrly. It takes a moment, but his face flashes with recognition and soon he’s taking a step towards you.

“Polly?!” Hangman asks, sounding surprised. You hum in response, then round on him.

“Where is it that you found your qualifications, Liuetenant? We should probably return them,” you tease him. Hangman only takes up a stance and stretches his arms out, his flight suit stretching desperately around his biceps as he does.

“Oh, Polly, if I’d known that was all it took to get you down here, I’d have started chipping bits off months ago,” he flirts shamelessly. You smile at him but don’t speak and after a moment, he drops his arms again, crossing them over his chest instead and blinking at you curiously. “What?” he asks.

Your smile grows, and you shake your head at him.

“Your terrible lines work better when I can see you, that's all,” you inform him, making him uncross his arms and laugh.

“I would say that’s generally the case, even if a guy ain’t me,” he replies coolly. You only shake your head again, and look back out at the expanse of tarmac ahead of you.

“Thanks to you getting your pilots lisence off the back of a cereal box, we’ve ruined our Sleepless in Seattle thing,” you say with a forlorn sigh.

When you look back at Hangman he’s frowning at you in confusion.

“Our what?” he asks. You roll your eyes and turn to face him fully at last, waving your hand as you speak.

“You know, our Sleepless in Seattle thing. We talk all this time, but never meet, and if we cross paths, we don’t realise it? It’s ruined now,” you accuse him lightly. Hangman hums, and seems to think for a moment.

“I get to be Meg Ryan in this situation, right?” he says, making you chortle.

“Well you’d have to be. No way I’d leave 90s Bill Pullman!”

“Well, what if we’re not Sleepless in Seattle? What if we’re more… When Harry Met Sally?” he suggests. You squint at him.

“Have you seen that film? I’m not sure that’s the implication you want to go for…” you ask him, making him falter for a moment.

“That’s the one with the emails right?” he responds unsurely. You laugh again, and shake your head.

“No, that’s You’ve Got Mail.”

“What the hell did I just suggest, then?”

You stare at him for a moment, and can’t stop yourself from grinning up at him.

“More or less not speaking for like ten years, but on the rare occasion we do meet up, we argue,” you tell him, watching him frown even deeper, and shake his own head this time.

“That would be kinda hard, considering you’re the voice in my head,” he says.

“Oh, so we’re doing Her now!”

Hangman fixes you with a deadpan expression and a slightly smirk.

“I don’t even want to know.”

You laugh at him, and begin walking, unsurprised when he immediately joins you, falling into step at your side. “So,” he begins again after a moment, peering down at you. “Despite playing hacky sack on your tarmac, you still gonna let me take you out?”

You falter briefly, but keep walking, this time glancing up at him.

“I didn’t think you were being serious all those times you asked me out,” you don’t bother hiding your surprise. Hangman looks back at you, squinting, and cocks his head.

“At this point I think you’ve shot me down more than Dagger combined, why would I not be serious?” he asks you, sounding oddly serious. You chuckle.

“Right, so, say if, I don’t know, Rooster got a few more hits on you, you wouldn’t leave me hangin’ would you?” you know you’ll say yes, but you can’t help but tease him a little longer.

Hangman raises an eyebrow at you and grins wide and beautiful.

“You? Never,” he says. “Mostly because I’m legally obligated to respond when you speak to me.”

You lift your own eyebrow and fix him with a wry smile.

“I like that in a man.”

Hangman laughs.

–

“I mean it, your voice is sexy,” Jake tells you once he’s sat back down from replacing your drinks. You can’t help but chortle and stir your cocktail with the straw.

“Really? Me telling you to line up and wait in the pattern gets you going?” you ask. Jake grins, but nods very seriously as he takes a short sip of his beer.

“Absolutely. I also like when you tell me about the weather and conditions, and direct me to land.”

Leaning forward with your elbows on the table between you, you put your chin in your hands.

“I liek when you flirt with me,” you begin, waiting for him to smirk at you before continuing on. “And you don’t realise my boss is in the room, so I just have to respond ‘roger’ and ‘acknowledged’ whenever you say something stupid,” you finish. Jake rolls his eyes and leans forward to meet you.

“To be fair, I’d probably be saying something stupid anyway,” he tells you.

You have to let out a laugh at that and finally lean back again.

“Oh yeah, that reminds me, are you ever gonna tell us all how to ‘bury a fossil’? You know, those things that you famously dig up and do not bury?” you tease, earning another eyeroll. Jake shrugs and copies your movements.

“I foretold Mav’s career comeback, didn’t I?”

You laugh again, but this time, get a good look at him sitting casually across from you, out of uniform and seemingly more relaxed than you’ve ever seen, or heard.

“I like your voice too,” you tell him at last, smiling a little at how he seems to preen at your praise. “Your accent is more pronounced face-to-face though, and you don’t sound like you’re performing all the time.”

Jake takes a sip of his beer and shrugs again.

“Can’t be Hangman all the time,” he says. You make a face.

“I like Hangman. He entertains me at work… but I think I like the guy who hasn’t seen When Harry Met Sally, and has a Fisher-Price pilot's lisence even more.”

Jake laughs and nods at you.

“Splash one,” he says before he leans in to you again. “Toddler’s generally have pretty good taste, in my opinion, they’re all about shapes and colours and boobs… can’t fault ‘em!”

You have to laugh and concede that at least, the two of you clinking drinks before you continue to flirt and chat for the rest of the evening.

When Jake drops you back at yours, you invite him inside, under the guise of lending him your DVD copy of When Harry Met Sally, but when he simply lingers in your living room, you start to consider other tactics.

“Jake?” you say, standing up from ‘searching’ your stack of DVD’s and facing him. “This is the part where you save me from admitting I don’t really own a physical copy of the film by having sex with me,” you inform him dutifully, watching as he straightens up and blinks at you. Then, he’s shaking his head, smiling, and taking a step closer toward you.

“I guess every good rom-com does have an earth shattering lie at its core, doesn’t it?” he steps closer, and this time, anchors his hands at your waist, tugging you into him a little more.

“Let's skip the conflict part and go straight to the happy ending, shall we?”

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #hangman x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake 'hangman' seresin fanfic #jake hangman seresin #top gun fanfiction

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acupofqueercoffee · 1 year

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“Offer me the deathless death”

Andromache the Scythian x Female Reader

request ( found here ) by @nightly-polaris

|･ω･) go wild, you said and go wild, i did. i included as much of the provided details as i could. hopefully, you’ll find it agreeable

cw : 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ // dubcon-ish // ✂️ ✂️😼 // overstimulation

casually quoting hozier for all my andromache fics. that fight scene on the plane and the way she grabbed nile by the jaw tho 😩 wanted to incorporate it in a fic ever since i saw it, and fucking finally did

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Hallucinations. A fever dream.

Anything but reality is what you tell yourself, and what a job you have been doing thus far! Fantastically foolish if nothing else. Cocooned in a bubble of lies that spill forth none other than your lips, and illusions that are carved by your very mind itself, you harbour not a droplet of doubt that the reality in front of your eyes is nothing but bona fide.

People after all are the most masterful at fooling themselves.

Ensnared in a web of deceit weaved by your fingers lie no hapless preys, but you, yourself, who revel in the sweet taste of false security as you do in the richness of the creamy warm chocolate drink that coats your tongue.

Even though business in your shop today is notably satisfactory if not the most profitable, it is not the digits that matter to you the most. Your little shop is borne purely out of your profound passion and desire; obligation is out of the picture. It is where you feel the most at home, doing what you love while bathed in the aroma of freshly ground coffee and cocoa.

Amidst brewing a cup of americano as per the order of a customer with stylish sun-glasses and a striking jawline, your dress is accidentally soiled. Little do you know, the scatter of black and bitter constellations along the pristine white of your sleeve is merely the dawn of a darker, more bitter happening.

──────── ༻✿༺ ────────

Finding you has been relatively easy.

When the familiar dreams begin plaguing her usually dreamless nights, a telltale sign of a new immortal on the horizon, Andromache has half a mind to ignore them altogether. Had she not seen the places that stoke recognition amongst the wild tapestry of images, she certainly would have. But alas, her target, as it so happens, is no stranger to her. By no means does the Scythian know you. Nor you, the Scythian. New immortals bring together with them an assortment of risks, one of them being the exposure of their secret. It is with such knowledge in mind that Andromache feels obliged to set out for you despite her reluctance. You living in the neighbourhood of her temporary place of residence only makes the search all the more convenient.

Being a warrior for many a millennium has developed a vast array of tactical traits into personal trademarks. Those that once upon a time had had to be mindfully exercised, now occur as easily and effortlessly as breathing, involuntary more often than not. Beneath the dark shades of a spectacle perched on a well-defined slope of a nose lies a pair of sage green eyes, scanning the vicinity of wherever she goes like an eagle on a hunt. They have landed on it then, during her visit to a store, standing adjacent to it is a cafe in the name of “Trouvaille”. The Scythian is not one to be easily intrigued, but what a lie it would be to say that the charming building with its vintage air and curious name had not tickled her fancy. Or its owner whom she has noticed is all sweet smiles and dulcet eyes.

Eyes which she has only seen from afar then, now she stares directly into them. Protected by the shades, the intense greens study you with brazen openness, roaming all over your frame, from the tiny clips that decorate your cascading hair like colourful Christmas lights to the butterfly pendant that dangles from a simple silver chain, hovering directly above the dip of your throat, from the little flower prints on your dress, the skirt of which softly caresses your thighs, to occasional glimpse of seemingly soft flesh that teases the Scythian, left uncovered by a pair of white thigh-highs.

It is retrieving you that is the hard part.

Immediately upon arrival, Andromache has read your features for perhaps a trace of recognition. You paying the Scythian a visit in her dreams can only mean one thing after all: that she, too, must have appeared in yours. Yet, no widening of your eyes greet her, only a smile that does not waver.

“Hi, welcome to cafe Trouvaille. What can I get you?”

“Americano will do. Hot.”

Beside the fact that it is broad day light, a few people roam the place. As capable as Andromache is of manhandling you, it is not in her best interest to attract attention. The situation calls for patience. Rushing will spell only more trouble at best. Wait she must, and so, wait she does.

Leisurely, the Scythian sips her coffee, studying you periodically as she does so. It is after some minutes have ticked by, the cup of coffee sitting on the table, empty and cold, that she decides to fish a book, leather-bound and well-worn, out of her backpack. Thumbing through old pages, Andromache spends the better part of the wait indulging in literature, until one by one, people start trickling out of the shop.

In due time, it leaves only the Scythian and you.

The sky has taken on a deep orange hue by the time she stands to approach you. She eyes you surreptitiously, and upon confirming that she is not at the receiving end of your attention, the Scythian moves to lock the door. Ever the diligent wielder of caution, she does not forget to flip the little dangling plate. The letter “We’re closed.” that is carved into the wood will help ward off potential visitors.

Even as she walks towards the counter, you do not seem to notice her for you are kept occupied by the book in your lap, fingers busy scribbling onto paper. It is the tinkle of porcelain on marble as she drops the cup and saucer atop the counter that finally has your eyes zeroing in on her. She watches you watch her. Backdropped by the sunset with her shades finally tucked away into the pocket of her jacket, the sight of the Scythian brings about a subtle shift in your mien. Although fleeting, the furrow of your brows that must have been imperceptible to others, does not go unnoticed.

“Hello, again. I hope you’ve had a good time.”

The smile that you give her is sweet, if not the most genuine.

“Why don’t we save the pleasantries, hm?” The smile that touches her lips, in contrast, has a hint of sourness. “You’ve seen me before.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t believe I have.”

Your answer only brings about a twofold increase in the Scythian’s irritation. Judging by the slightest delay in your response, she knows that you are well aware that she has not meant it as a query, and so, she says as much.

“It wasn’t a question.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You must have mistaken me for someone else.”

The adamant denial from you has strong, slender digits tightening around the strap that is slung over one shoulder.

“Do I really have to spell it out for you? You died, and then you woke up, saw a bunch of people you had never seen before in your dream, including me.”

“But, that was- No. Surely it was-.”

“Look, kid-” Forming into a thin line are Andromache’s lips as she takes a moment to compose herself, slowly huffing out an exhale through flared nostrils. “-I know you’ve got questions but I need you to come with me first.”

“No. No, I don’t think so. This isn’t real. None of this is real. Leave, please. I need you to leave.”

Lips that slowly curl into a smirk and a chuckle that comes out dark and dangerous. “It’s cute that you think you have a choice.”

Battered boots that come to rest just shy of polished loafers.

“You know…your folly is, dare i say, commendable. Reality is not just something you can rewrite, and yet, you managed an impeccable job of tricking yourself into thinking what you believe to be the truth is the truth.”

One foreboding frame that looms like a predator and the one that cowers like a cornered prey.

“Alas, I almost feel bad for shattering your little illusion. But then again, I’ve done a great many questionable things in my life having lived as long as I have. What significance would it make to add another?”

“What I saw in my dream. They really happened.” It is a question albeit not being voiced like one. The Scythian does not find the need to answer. Why bother when the answer already lies in your hand?

At her silence, a look of horror dawns on your features. “You’re a murderer. You and your friends. I’ve seen them. I- I’m not- I can’t.”

“Oh darling, a rose without thorns is but a weed, easy to be plucked, to be trampled on. You’re one of us now. You will come with me whether you like it or not, and you will do so this instant.”

Every single step you hesitantly take back is met with an immediate footfall of boots as they fall right onto the place that your loafers have just vacated. It goes like this for a while, you actively ruining the close proximity, and Andromache rectifying it, until there is nowhere for you to flee, and your hips collide with the counter edge.

“Why me?” She parries your plea with a nonchalant shrug, face impassive. “Beats me.”

“Please, I-” Tears glisten in your eyes, murmuring beseechingly. “Let me go. I can’t kill. I know nothing about fighting.”

While her hands grip the counter on either side of your waist to cage you in strong arms, her lips lower to the shell of your ear, breath warm as she speaks. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. You can kill. In fact, anyone can. You just have to listen to me.”

“No! Let me go! I don’t want-” Yells dissolve into a yelp by way of digits seizing your jaw.

“I’ve gone out of my way to exercise great forbearance, but it is running terribly thin. It would do you well not to try it any further.” She husks threateningly, feeling the softness of your cheeks giving under the roughness of her battle-hardened fingers. Salty droplets drench her digits as tears start spilling in rivulets down your cheeks.

“Go on, bite me with those baby teeth. Scratch me with your little paws.” She taunts. “Why, would you look at that! All bark and no bite. How pathetic.”

It is as she says this that your teeth sink into the palm that is pressed tightly against your mouth. The unexpected retaliation has her stance faltering, and although you manage to break free from her bodily confines, the Scythian, being far more nimble and dexterous, hardly has to break sweat in recapturing you.

“You're a stubborn little thing, aren’t you? Two can play that game, although don’t say I didn’t warn you. Breaking men, after all, is considered one of my fortes.”

Wrists locked behind your back in her iron grip, and body bent over the marble counter, Andromache revels in the quavering of your body beneath her own as one wicked hand, like a sneaky serpent, slowly slithers up your thigh.

“Are you-” A whimper flies past your lips when your arms are pulled taunt, shoulders craning uncomfortably. And then, she yanks, hard and unforgiving, until you are forced onto your feet, back colliding with her front. “Are you going to kill me?”

Andromache cannot help but laugh at your question, a rich throaty sound that brings about the erection of soft little hair on the nape of your neck.

Your wrists are released at the cost of your cheeks bearing the brunt of her ire as rough fingers dig into your flesh. They flee from their cage between the two of your bodies to take sanctuary on her forearm, soft fingers grasping the sleeve of her jacket. “Where’s the fun in killing you when I can just have my way with you, hm?” Her hold around one of your thighs remains unrelenting while the hand on your jaw coerces you into craning your neck. Your head rests on her chest with a grunt, and you drown, held spellbound by the intense green of her eyes. “I’d rather enjoy the view of you crumbling beneath me than watch you bleed out only to come alive again.”

Although it douses you in shame, you have to admit that you are not entirely immune to the woman. How can you when she oozes charisma, frighteningly beautiful even as she looms over you with all the grandeur of a great menacing panther.

And then, too many things happen all at once; fingers that crawl into a forest of hair to grab a fistful, with a yank to the side, a throat that is bared for the predator above to conveniently sink her teeth into, the frenzied little flutter of a pulse beneath the flat of a warm tongue, chocked sobs that dissolve into a strangled gasp as a cold hand journeys into the waistband of an underwear.

Previously, your hands have found home on her thighs, fingers grappling fabric, but upon feeling wandering digits inside your underwear, one of them flies towards the offending hand, locking around a wrist.

“N-no. You can’t.”

“You would do well to remember that I am in control here.”

The Scythian’s growl is not only heard, but also felt on your skin as teeth nibble, mouth suck, and lips soothe the stings that afterwards will linger on your body in the form of dark blues and bright reds.

Horror and humiliation dance a wild tango whereas fingers waltz delicately along your folds, a condescending tsk echoing off your nape when they come away wet. Betrayed and backstabbed by your own body, mortification colours your face as not one but two of her sizeable digits sink into your heat with little to no effort. Although sudden, it does not hurt, though it stings, leaves you breathless still. Dewdrops bloom on your lashes and they drop down your cheeks when fingers in your core bury knuckles deep, abuse your tightness. You feel them in the very depths of your body, filling you so deliciously that when they wiggle so much as a little, it is more than enough to sucker-punch a breath out of your lungs.

Between her hot mouth kissing your neck all rosy and sore, her fingers cleverly caressing your insides, and her hand toying with your breasts beneath your dress, it is no surprise that your undoing greets you with a tidal wave of pleasure.

It is, however, a surprise to find yourself being shoved back-first onto the table, legs being pulled wide by fingers twining round your thighs. You are still suffering through a series of aftershocks from your first orgasm when her mouth attaches itself to your quavering folds, that wicked tongue immediately slithering into your hole. It does a cruel little nudge and your fingers wind up entwined in her hair. Instead of a reproach, it is a hum of satisfaction that you earn as the Scythian grabs a handful of your buttocks and devour you like a starved man.

By the seventh one, you are well beyond exhausted, brain foggy courtesy of being fucked into oblivion, and body agonisingly sore, littered with deep hues and teeth marks. Somewhere between third and fourth, if you recall correctly, she has stripped you bare, bar your thigh-highs, and completely rid herself off clothes, magnificent muscles coming into display. You have ogled them with barely restrained awe until your attention is swayed elsewhere by her mouth leaving traces of herself all across the expanse of your body.

Now, once again, you marvel at them, entranced by the impressiveness of her muscles that ripple with every roll of her powerful hips.

You barely recognise the face that is staring right back at you, reflected in the surface of sea green eyes, or the sounds that are oozing out of your lips. Sweat clings to the forehead of the woman towering over you as it does to yours. One of your legs is slung over her shoulder, and the other lies limp and useless between her thighs, as she rubs herself into your core with wild abandon.

“I- I can’t. Too much. It’s too muc- ah!”

“Yes, you can.”

She has taken the hand that goes to rest on one of her hipbones only to weave her fingers with yours. Now, they hover in the air, tightly intertwined, suddenly made much tighter by the white knuckled grip of your hand.

“Slow- nghh please! Be gentle.”

“You do as I say. Not the other way round. Is that understood?”

The desperate nods of your head is met with a bite to the succulent inside of your thigh just above the brim of your sock.

“Answer me.”

“Yes!”

“My word shall be your command, and you will dance to my every desire, won’t you darling?”

“Yes! Yes, I will.”

“You are mine after all, aren’t you? Mine to do with what I please. Mine to use how I see fit. Don’t you agree?”

“I’m yours- ngh- all yours.”

“Good girl.” She moans, movements escalating from lazy strokes to untamed gyrations.

“Andy.” She rasps breathlessly. “I want to hear my name dripping down those pretty little lips when you fall apart.”

And hear she does. Andy. Andy. Andy. Andy. Her name is all you can cry out as your juices mingle with one another’s, the combined essence soiling your thigh-highs as well as the couch beneath you.

Back curving, toes curling, you soar high, high into heaven, swimming amongst clouds, drowning in euphoria. And then, you plummet, down into the pit of hell, down into another one of those little deathless deaths. An intense blinding white replaced by an absolute dark.

When you awake, it is to the heart-melting sensation of lips softly caressing your forehead. You find yourself on the same couch that you have passed out, cocooned in toned arms, face tucked snugly into a warm, musky throat. Reflexively, you begin nosing the soft underside of her jaw before you are startled by fingers wandering down your very naked thigh.

“Look at me.” Obediently, you oblige, reluctantly leaving the pleasant warmth of her neck to do what she desires.

“What have I told you?” All too delicately, or as delicately as the callouses on her hand will allow, the pad of a thumb grazes the apple of your cheek.

Fighting against the urge to slip your eyes shut, you sigh dreamily instead. “That as long as I remain a good obedient girl, no harm will befall me.”

“That’s right. And are you?”

A nod as an answer prompts a pat of a forefinger on your cheek, and then, another. You know what she wants, so you give her just that.

“I’m a good girl.”

Not only do you see the smirk on her face, but you also feel it on your skin as she leans down to drag her lips across yours. “You forgot to mention whose, darling.”

“I’m a good girl, Andy. Your good girl.”

“And will my good girl obey my every command like she had promised?”

“Mmhm.”

A breath catches in your throat as her lips journey down down down, admiring the traces of none other than herself until that ravenous mouth adjourn to your hip, sucking the tender spot on your hipbone to make it all the more vibrant.

Although it has not been the main purpose of her doing what she has done, it is without doubt that Andromache gets a sick sort of pleasure out of seeing you covered in her marks. Every inch of your body and soul, all irrevocably hers.

You have said it so yourself, willingly given yourself up to her. That being said, it is purely her own greed that has her craving more and more and more of you. The scent of you that is sinfully sweet, heady and uniquely yours, makes her ache. The sight of you, like the dewy petals of an exquisite flower, pretty and pulsating, makes her mouth water.

It is with this insatiable hunger swelling inside of her that the Scythian sinks to her knees between your luxuriously smooth thighs.

“One more, darling. Give me one more before we leave.”

And you do, oh how you do even as one bleeds into two and two into three, because a good girl does what she is taught, does she not? And you are a good girl, Andy’s sweet little good girl to do with what she will.

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#andromache the scythian x reader #andromache of scythia x reader #andromache x reader #andromache x you #andy the old guard #andy andromache of scythia #andromache the scythian #andromache of scythia #character x reader #charlize theron x reader #charlize theron #the old guard #smut #gif #movie gifs

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george-weasleys-girl · 1 year

Text

North Star Series

Chapter - 34 - Elysian Days

Start Here:

Summary: Fred is teased mercilessly. George and Y/N discuss the future.

Warnings: heavy allusions to sex

~•~

There are times when life just falls perfectly into place. When, no matter what else might be going on in the world, there's a little bright spot where the sun hasn't yet dipped beneath the horizon. It was within that brief moment in time that George and Y/N existed.

Life was, indeed, good. Business was booming. Y/N's research was progressing. She kept talking about something called genes that had nothing to do with denim trousers. And Fred was spending several nights a week over at Angie's place. Thus giving George and Y/N plenty of alone time, a new luxury in which they were more than happy to indulge themselves in.

~•~

"I don't care what sort of shenanigans you get up to while I'm out, as long as it doesn't happen in my room," Fred announced the day after he'd unexpectedly apparated back home to grab something he forgot and discovered his twin and Y/N heating up the kitchen in ways that didn't involve cooking.

"Shenanigans?" George chuckled. "You make it sound like we're running around banging trash bin lids together."

"Hey, whatever turns you on," his twin shrugged. "Just keep it far away from my room."

"Far away from your room, huh?" A mischievous glint lit up George's eyes, and he gave Y/N a quick wink. "So, um, how far away are we talking?"

"Because there was this one time," Y/N joined in without missing a beat.

"We were up against your door," George continued.

"And it wasn't closed very well," Y/N said with a pragmatic air.

"And we just sorta fell through."

Y/N nodded, "Good thing your bed is right there at the entrance."

"It broke our fall." George explained. "And well... you know..."

Fred's eyes went as wide as saucers, "WHAT?"

George snorted, causing Y/N to giggle, and then they both burst out laughing, raising their hands in defense. "We're kidding, mate!" George said. "Put down the pitchfork, ok? We're just kidding."

Fred's shoulders relaxed. "You'd better be."

"We are," Y/N assured him.

"Well, mostly," George added with a shit-eating grin.

~•~

"Poor Freddie. We shouldn't torture him like that," Y/N said, referring to their earlier conversation.

"He'll be alright. Consider it payback for apparating in on us without warning," George chuckled and downed the last of his wine before laying down on their blanket. They were taking advantage of the last, warm summer evenings and enjoying a night-time picnic on the roof of the shop.

Y/N grinned. "I don't think he'll be doing that again," she said, laying down beside him and resting her head on his outstretched arm.

They lay together in silence for a long while, just watching the stars. "It's a beautiful evening," George mummered once the moon was high in the sky.

"It is," Y/N agreed. "But, I really miss being able to see the night sky in all its glory." The bright lights of muggle London blotted out all but the brightest stars.

"At least we can see our star," he said, pointing to Polaris.

"Indeed," Y/N kissed his cheek and scooted closer to him.

"I've been thinking," George began. "How would you feel about getting a place of our own?"

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. She wasn't expecting that. At least not yet. "A place of our own?"

"Well, after all this crap with Voldy is over," he clarified. "But I was thinking maybe a little cottage in the country? Or perhaps a hobbit house?"

"A hob - you remember that?" Y/N asked, remembering the week she'd read The Hobbit to him while he had the flu. He'd never mentioned it again, so she thought he'd forgotten all about it. "You could barely remember your own name."

"I may have forgotten who I was," he rolled onto his side, smiling at her. "But I could never forget you. Every single second with you is carved into my memory."

Y/N blushed in spite of herself. "You better be careful, Romeo," she teased. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

~•~

George chuckled and shifted himself on top of her, his lips barely brushing hers. "Good," he said. "I'm counting on it." Then he closed the distance between them.

~•~

@milivanili99 @slytherclaw1978 @quackitysdrugdealer @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @fancy-pantaloons @samberriejams @totalwitch2 @aslanvez @mrsgweasley @morally-grey-obsessed @princess-paramour @asuperconfusedgirl @hmisa11 @superduckmilkshake @junerprsh @wolfkill16 @kaysau2510 @planetkt @thankyouforanonymity

~•~

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x you #george weasley fluff #george weasley fic #george weasley headcanon #george weasley imagines #north star series

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aspaceinthecosmos · 2 years

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a beginner's guide to stargazing in the northern hemisphere*

*note that the stars visible to people in the NH differ based on your latitude. Those nearer to the equator will see some different stars than someone near the north pole.

the big dipper

The big dipper is an ideal place to start with stargazing. Its ladle-like shape is widely recognized and is quite easy to spot, even in areas with greater light pollution. The big dipper is located towards the northern sky, and you can use it to locate two other well-known stars.

By following the bottom two stars in the "scoop" of the dipper, you can find polaris, also known as the north star. Polaris is always directly north, and its height in the sky is determined by your latitude. For example, someone at 20° N would see polaris located at 20° above the horizon. Polaris is located in the Ursa Minor constellation, also known as the little dipper.

By following the curve of the handle of the big dipper, you can locate the star Arcturus in the constellation Bootes. Arcturus is the brightest star in that constellation, and has a reddish tint to it, making it fairly easy to locate if you know where to look.

Looking on the other side of Polaris as the big dipper is on, there is a constellation known as Cassiopeia. Often known as the "crooked W," cassiopeia resembles, well, a crooked W. This is my personal favorite constellation :)

in the winter times in the northern hemisphere, occasionally the constellation orion is visible. this constellation is usually fairly low in the southern horizon, unless you live pretty close to the equator. Orion is usually best recognized by the three stars that form orion´s belt, and by following this belt you can find two more prominent stars.

If you follow orion´s belt downwards, you´ll find a very bright white star, named Sirius. This is one of the brightest stars in the night sky. Following Orion´s belt in the opposite direction, you´ll find the star aldebaran, another bright star which has an orangeish tint to it.

Above orion's belt is a well-known star named betelgeuse. Betelgeuse (pronounced beetle-juice) is best well known because it is a red supergiant star, which could go supernova anytime within the next few days to the next few thousand years. In our night sky, it appears fairly bright and quite orange.

and finally, looking below orions belt, depending on the light pollution in your area, you may be able to see a cloudy looking object, almost appearing as "orion's knee" (that's at least what i call it, most people say it's his sword). This is the Orion Nebula - one of the only nebula visible to the naked eye.

If anyone living in the southern hemisphere would like to add on tips for those living there, feel free! I'll reblog any other stargazing tips people leave :)

#aspaceinthecosmos #space #outer space #astronomy #star gazing #stargazing #stars #constellations

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polarisphobia · 3 months

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☆ Hello~

.• My name is Polaris or Poli (She/Her)! I'm new to Tumblr (≧∇≦)/

✧ Here's some things about me!

↓ Keep reading! Σʕﾟᴥﾟﾉʔﾉ

꒷‧₊˚Artೋ

I'm a digital artist! I recently migrated from Twitter, and previous to that was from Instagram. I'm really just trying to find a platform that best fits my needs lol. I draw mostly fanart of characters from games or people's OCs. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ

˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳ I will archive my art posts here! (@Polistrations)

꒷‧₊˚Musicೋ

Music is such a huge part of my life! Here are some of my top artists~

˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳ Unlike Pluto/Like Saturn, Deftones, Motionless In White, Ellise, Fabvl, Divide Music, Bring Me The Horizon, Odetari, Eminem, Vocaloid, etc.

Most of these are unranked, but my #1 top favorite artist EVER is Unlike Pluto (*´˘`*)♡

꒷‧₊˚Gamingೋ

I love playing video games! I'm a Mobile, Console (XBOX Series S & Switch), and VR player. I'm saving up for a PC! Here's some games I like: ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆

˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳ Genshin Impact, Star Rail, Resident Evil, Roblox, Danganronpa, Sonic, Back 4 Blood, Minecraft, Cyberpunk 2077, FNaF, Terraria, Cult of the Lamb, Borderlands 3, Overwatch 2, Astroneer, Fortnite, VRChat

꒷‧₊˚Horrorೋ

I love anything Horror! My favorite types are usually zombie and psychological horrors, but I can really get down with anything. I love horror movies and video games. (-"-;)

That's all I have for now! I'll update this more in the future! ·˚ ༘₊·

I grew up as an Amino kid. Can you tell by all of my unnecessary symbols? Σ(･o･;)

#✩ updated 03 . 09 . 24 #about me #introduction #intro post #introductory post

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h3lenn1s · 9 months

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FFxivWrite Challenge 2023

September 1-30

Prompt #4 - off the hook

Helennis not your typical princess, for she had trained as a paladin from a very young age, guided by a sense of duty and an unwavering commitment to protect her kingdom from the icy threats that lurked beyond its borders.

All the people known Ishgard was a realm of perpetual winter, where frosty winds howled through the snow-covered peaks and icy plains.At this time, they was in constant siege from the monstrous forces led by the dreaded Ice Commander Beast, an ancient and powerful creature said to be born from the heart of the coldest glacier. The Ice Commander Beast was relentless in its pursuit of conquest, with its army of frost giants and ferocious ice creatures.

Helennis, determined to defend her homeland, had trained relentlessly in the art of combat, mastering the ways of the paladin. She wielded a blade forged from a rare enchanted ice crystal, a weapon of immense power that could harness the cold to protect and defend. Polaris. Her shield, the Vessel, carries an enormous amount of aether and light.

One fateful day, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the chill in the air grew even colder, the Ice Commander Beast launched a massive assault on Coerthas Western Highlands. Helennis, having anticipated this attack, rallied her fellow paladins, knights, and the Ishgardian inhabitants to prepare for the impending battle. The skies darkened as the beast's army approached, and the very air seemed to freeze with fear.

The battle that ensued was fierce and brutal. Helennis led her forces with unwavering determination, her blade shimmering with icy magic, and her heart burning with the desire to protect her people. However, the Ice Commander Beast was a formidable adversary, commanding the freezing elements to its will. It unleashed blizzards that threatened to engulf Coerthas Western Highlands, turning even the bravest warriors into ice statues.

In the midst of the chaos, the Ice Commander Beast focused its frigid fury on Helennis. The creature's icy breath encased her in a frozen cocoon, rendering her immobile. It seemed that all hope was lost, as the beast drew closer to deal the final, icy blow.

But Helennis had not come this far to be defeated so easily. With every ounce of her inner strength, she summoned the latent power within her enchanted ice crystal blade. The blade began to glow with an intense blue light, and a surge of warmth and determination coursed through her veins.

In a dazzling display of magic and valor, Helennis broke free from her icy prison, shattering it with her empowered blade. She unleashed a mighty strike, channeling the frozen energies she had absorbed into the Ice Commander Beast. The creature roared in agony as it was encased in a thick layer of ice, its power waning.

With one final blow, Helennis shattered the frozen shell, defeating the Ice Commander Beast once and for all. The beast's army, seeing their leader defeated, fled in disarray, leaving Coerthas Western Highlands free from their icy grasp.

Helennis had not only saved her kingdom but also proven herself to be a true paladin princess, a beacon of courage and resilience in the face of insurmountable odds. Her name would be remembered throughout the ages as the savior of Coerthas Western Highlands, the valiant princess who turned the tide of battle and brought warmth and hope back to her frozen land.

#ff14 ffxiv #final fantasy viera #ffxiv #ffxiv wol

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andromeda1023 · 1 year

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Upper left: On October 30, 2022, Comet ZTF E3 displayed a blue-green coma, compact nuclear region and two tails — a curved, yellow dust tail and a very faint ion tail pointing straight up from the comet's head. Eduard Demencik

Upper right: Teardrop-shaped Comet ZTF (C/2020 V2) passed near the faint spiral galaxy NGC 3488 in Ursa Major on October 21, 2022. Dan Bartlett

Lower: Comet ZTF E3 is currently plunging toward the plane of the solar system on a steeply inclined orbit. Its position is shown for November 16th. NASA HORIZONS

Ready to chase comets? We look at two fuzzy solar system travelers that will keep you on your toes all fall and winter long.

There are two 10th-magnitude comets now visible in the evening sky, both discovered by the Zwicky Transient Facility (ZTF) and bear its name — Comet ZTF (C/2020 V2) and Comet ZTF (C/2022 E3). The survey scans the entire northern sky every two nights using an exceptionally wide-field CCD camera on the 48-inch Samuel Oschin Telescope at Palomar Observatory.

Comet ZTF V2 still hovers around magnitude 10.5 as it inches north in the direction of Polaris at a current rate of about ½° per day. In mid-November the comet stands about 20° high at nightfall for observers at mid-northern latitudes and is circumpolar for much of the U.S. and Europe. Maximum altitude occurs just before dawn. An 8-inch or larger telescope under moonless skies should provide a good view of this compact cotton wad.

C/2020 V2 pole-vaults from Ursa Major to Sculptor between now and next October, slowly brightening to a peak magnitude of about 9.0–9.5 in late January and again in late August–early September during its closest approach to Earth on September 17, 2023. Along the way it gives the North Star a nod, passing 3.7° to its southeast on December 22nd and 0.8° west of the bright open cluster M103 in Cassiopeia on January 25th and 26th.

Comet ZTF (C/2022 E3) should become an order of magnitude more spectacular than its doppelgänger namesake. Staying put for now in northern Serpens near the Corona Borealis border, this small, strongly condensed comet glows around magnitude 9.8.

Come January 1st, Comet ZTF E3 quickly accelerates, crossing from Corona Borealis into Boötes, Draco, and Ursa Minor while brightening from magnitude 8 to 5–5.5 by month's end. During the third week of January it becomes circumpolar for mid-northern latitude observers and passes about 10° southeast of Polaris on January 29th. On the night of February 10–11 it pays a visit to Mars. Their separation tightens from about 1.5° during the early evening hours (comet northeast of Mars) to just under 1° before the planet sets. Before this cosmic snowball exits Taurus it buzzes past the Hyades from February 13–15.

Full article, pics, diagrams: https://skyandtelescope.org/astronomy-news/sneak-peek-at-two-promising-ztf-comets/

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wiltedrosewritings · 8 months

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NEVERLAND IN AUGUST

I often tell myself I will no longer partake in writing tae fics bc they always turn out excessively angsty and melodramatic, and yet, I find myself here, time and time again.

short version: kth and poor decisions. salty air. beach shore. never meant to be. exchanges that slipped away into moments in time. a secret well kept, and then fallen into oblivion. seashells. skinny dipping. august, except it's not. you, except you are not mine. us, except there is no such thing. you were never mine to keep, or to lose.

tae's got a neverland complex. doesn't wanna grow up, bc it means leaving behind his freedom, but worst of all, you. or something like that.

proceed, if you are interested in the long version.

wc: 3.7 k

tracklist: 'August' by Taylor Swift

tense and POV: 2nd person and past

You are so easy to fall back into, as though we are molded to fit one another, a lock to its key, and it shouldn't be this easy to self-destruct.

Taehyung slipped away into the night when the crowd had settled and turned its eyes blind; when the topics of conversation had shuffled from his career and marital prospects to rather pettier, popular culture developments.

He averted curious gazes amidst the crowded streets as he meandered aimlessly. Like a compass with a damaged needle, he spun indefinitely, pressed tight between bodies. No sense of direction.

With a flighty gaze, he scoured the surrounding, illuminated buildings for an anchor, a sort of lighthouse, some sort of sign to pierce his attention, slap him hard across the cheek as the ground would if he would only stop falling. If the ground were to catch him and hold him, rather than cave beneath his feet.

Gloomy, dim eyes searched past the silhouettes of the skyscrapers, past the nomadic clouds, which veiled the moon's luminous halo, attempting to make out faint stars freckling the sky.

Not just any stars.

Polaris - a stable point, axis, around which the rest of the world's body falls and rises.

The star he'd chased with his siblings through the playgrounds long ago.

The clouds were too vast and dense, as were the crowds pressing in around him. Suddenly, he felt painfully sympathetic of Polaris's condition; the world seemed to start spinning around him, too; the ground at his feet warping with each unsteady step.

He didn't want to be central, polar. He wanted to be a fuzzy margin, ambiguous, never quite a start, never quite an end. The horizon.

He wanted to be too many things in life, and nothing at all, at once. It was dizzying, to say the least, to be tugged in every direction. To have so many quarreling voices beckoning your attention.

Sometimes he wished he could split himself into a million little versions. Split the burden between them.

He just wanted it to stop. The spinning. The encompassing chatter. The omnipresent stares. All of it.

He dipped into a gas station with a neon sign for a header and pulled the cheapest bottle of red wine from its rack. Rolled it over the counter towards the register clerk along with his upturned ID, only his thumbpad mostly covered his picture and name.

It was a quick swivel, quick enough for the clerk to nod in recognition he was of age; not long enough for them to register the reputation behind the name, the face;

not long enough for a light to flicker in their distant gaze and their mouths to fall slack in awe.

With a lazy grip on the bottle's neck, he swayed and weaved through the saturated streets, often slamming shoulders, until he sank into a dim alley, save for an overhead flickering neon sign, similar to that of the gas station, only just one flicker short of giving out.

He padded his way out to a quieter, sleeping street, and found himself a vacant bench to collapse onto.

It was finally dark, and quiet, and the margins of the world had seemed to settle about him.

There, he conjured up an affair with the shadows until he grew to question whether he'd become one. Whether the star-freckled clouds had encompassed and carried him away, to some distant Neverland. A place that could offer him an eternity to figure out the calls and wants of his heart.

His parents had omitted a truth from him. They'd omitted many through his development, opting for sugar-coating existence, but of all the ones, this one was unforgivable.

They had never mentioned how it is like the air in your lungs dissipates with each passing year. A blind habit forms: you start holding your breath just to get through a couple of gruesome hours, a shift, the day.

You wait for the afternoon to catch it again, but then the afternoons start growing burdensome in a way uniquely their own. It grows, the weight on your chest, drowns you and kills you slowly.

In his brief recollection tonight, he supposes they'd been unconvincing in their pretensions. They'd never blatantly admitted this truth but had often insinuated it.

He should have looked closer, not forsaken the fine details.

He would have noticed the drawn bags lining their eyes, the burst capillaries on the ivory margins.

He would have felt the exasperated sigh leaving their lips while bracing their weight against the counter, just trying to stand another day.

He could feel that helpless sigh, now. Infact, it had grown to become his.

A sigh which seeped into the quiet night.

Quiet, safe for the whir of cars on the highway, a couple of miles back; safe for the chirp of crickets nestled amidst bushes, shrubs.

Quiet, safe for the sudden exclaim of a nearby branch, snapped under unannounced weight.

Taehyung stiffened and used the bottle that had been resting on his thigh as leverage, in case he'd need to spring upward and dash -though, it would likely be less of a dash, more of a stumble and awkward trot away given his inebriation.

"Boo!"

He didn't startle, much too inhibited to have reacted within the acceptable timeframe.

Or simply, too unbothered.

Instead, he turned his head with a lazy, drunken gaze and there you were -- his Neverland on Earth, stardust lining your eyes, a shard of magic and dream and impossible possibilities amidst a limiting world.

The stars surely envied you.

You kicked the air, standing, waiting awkwardly, as if for an invitation from him to sit. You weren't sure if he'd appreciate you intruding on his hideout, even if it was a vacant restaurant patio, with rusted chairs and overgrown ivy.

"They are losing their minds looking for you, you know?"

"They are?" A smug smile tugged on the corner of his glistening lips. "Let them." He proceeded to lick the gloss away, tasting the bitterness of residual liquor with subtle tones of sweet vanilla and tart cherry. "Are you gonna tattle on me?"

He swung down the leg he'd had outstretched on the bench, opening a space for you. Welcomed your presence.

Your original reluctance dissipated, formerly pinched shoulders relaxing.

"I already did," you flaunted, lied, made your way across the patio, crunching over shattered stone.

As you lowered yourself onto the seat, he gestured the opaque bottle at you, whirling the contents around.

"If I'm going down..." he started, holding back a hiccup behind puckered lips. For an instant, his face twisted, as if bile had crept up the column of his throat.

He swallowed hard, and quarreled with the nausea wringing his stomach. "I might as well not remember any of it."

You'd feel nauseated, too, leading his life.

Sure, it was glimmery and luxurious, alluring and comfortable by every physical means, with everything imaginable so carefully crafted and tailored. The perfect life.

It was all pretend, shallow. A gilded cage is only ever still a cage, a prison, confinement.

It wasn't him - not the him that you knew. He was a free bird, meant to take flight.

The him that you knew would be up for spontaneous drives to the shore. He'd get lost out of an insistence to avoid using navigation systems. He'd blast every genre of music through the speakers, and somehow recall every lyric, even the ones that were in a foreign tongue.

The him you knew, would leave his shoes at every corner, flinging them off with irritability, complaining about how sore they made him, managing to turn it into a debacle on how suffocating it is to be trapped.

He'd walk on coarse gravel, all through the city. Come home with the filthiest soles, nothing short of charcoal. He'd defy every norm with the lightest of smiles, come spewing to you about the sights he saw on his adventures, the people he'd met, how he'd played soccer with a couple of kids from the neighborhood, how their mother had served him some jiggae and how it reminded him so much of home.

Then he'd guffaw, shake his head and tell you that it was weird how he could recognize the familiarity of home when he'd never really met it.

But you were, of course, biased in your belief that the only version of him that existed was the one he showed you. You didn't really - or simply didn't want to - accept that this version could be the manifestation of a persona, a theatrical mask meant to distract something deeper, more fragile, genuine, and lost.

Your accepting company allowed him to be a different version of himself, but it wasn't entirely the truest one.

"Get up." You slapped his thigh and turned the bottle he'd handed over, letting its maroon content pour onto the cement, stain it beyond repair. "I want you to remember tonight."

He groaned, collapsing his head onto his hands and ruffling his hair into a nest. "I had been enjoying that!"

"That..." You shifted your gaze to the ground and then back up at him, brows pinched in question. You couldn't possibly be referring to the same thing. "No one could possibly enjoy that. Abominable." You shuddered.

"It was cheap," he justified.

"You act as if you have no money."

"I don't! It's their money." He thrust both arms into the open air, gesturing to his puppet masters, to the strings sewn into his elbows and wrists.

At all times, he was being watched fall apart at the seams, and was scrutinized. The same life which had been breathed into his infantile lungs, never felt his. Instead, it reminded him of a plotted strategy on a chess board game drawn out for added torture. It wasn't a single, one-time commitment; it was a lifetime of sustaining choices that would remove him further from himself.

"Enough self-pity for one night. Come on." You rose, knees creaking a little. "Let's go."

"Where to?" He beckoned, still planted on the bench.

"Somewhere. Anywhere. Nowhere." The offer hung in the air, open to endless possibilities. Potential twinkled in your starry eyes; a million wishes and dreams birthed in a second.

You smiled, and stardust gathered on your tear line, rained down and dusted his sullen limbs until he was floating, made weightless, trailing after you.

"Neverland."

"What?"

"Let's go to Neverland."

You snickered and it was as if bells chimed, rang, jingled.

"What are you - Have you gone mad?" Taehyung hissed, dancing his weary gaze across his immediate surroundings. He'd rapidly grown weary, careful of an audience bearing witness to the spectacle you were putting on, in your lacy underwear. Locks of hair danced around your figure in response to a cool oceanic breeze gathering to greet you.

"I am pretty sure this is illegal. Illegal, T."

T, as in Tinker Bell, his personal version of a rose-tinged fairy, with a volatile temper, particularly when things don't follow your script.

Incredulously, Taehyung continued to mumble beneath his breath. The cyclical breath of the sea drowned his protests.

Your bra collapsed onto a mound of sand, forcing his lips mute. Like a fish hauled out of the water, his lips smacked open, shut, then open again, failing to close around the ghost of words he'd thought to say but suddenly drew blank on.

Cheeks burning flushed in that so fae way, you dipped your chin behind the curtain of your hair.

You shut your eyes for what you were about to do. Mustered the courage to follow through, to not feel vulnerable under his gaze.

Taehyung's unwavering gaze followed your hands down, before trailing up so fast he saw stars spinning around his field of vision. He felt he'd been thrown into Van Gogh's Starry Night.

Slowly, apprehensively, he let his eyes cascade over your silhouette, which grew smaller in the distance as you raced to the sea, desperate to hide in its embrace.

Growing envious of it, Taehyung ripped his top off his torso, and stumbled the length of the shore, quarreling with his trousers.

In his boxers, he stopped close enough for the edge of the tide to graze the tip of his toes. Retracted at the sudden bite of cold. "You are mad, woman." It's no longer a question.

"Look who's talking?" You twirled around, the water caressing your sides, sculpting you with as much love and delicate intent as a historic artist did his marble block. "Isn't this illegal?"

And something in you fizzled, like the air bubbles frothing against your lips on the crystalline surface. It filled you with confusing pleasure to leave a mark on him. To corrupt him.

You hoped your touch on him - your influence - was permanent enough to outlive all that would proceed. Permanent and deep like etchings on tree barks, or indentations on freshly cemented sidewalks.

The panic in his gaze had long dissipated. It blended into a palette of emotions. All unnamable, indistinguishable, but utterly mesmerizing, nonetheless, much like the colorful horizon behind you.

Delight. Amusement. Fascination. A twinge of flippant anger.

You drive me mad, woman.

Orange sherbet. Strawberry pink. Lavender lilacs.

Mad enough to rouge his own cheeks.

You'd like to stare long enough to acquaint yourself with each and every one of them. To name them all, and find where one starts, and the other ones trails off.

But the thought of staring, steadily into his gaze makes you restless, short of breath. As if there isn't enough air in the entire atmosphere to satiate your lungs.

You can't name the way he looks at you; it's foreign, but not frightening in its oddity. Still, you can recognize its danger, in that it's not a known way to look at friends.

You reclined your head onto the surface of the water, much as you would against your pillow after a long day. "Oh, it's heavenly, Tae." With your arms outstretched like the limbs of starfishes on the ocean floor, you floated. The salty medium carried the voice of the sea directly into your ears. The sound of your breathing and the beating of your heart amplified.

A bizarre reminder that you were indeed alive.

Splashing and thrashing echoed across the sea, and you instinctively curled in on yourself to find Taehyung visibly grimacing at the cold state of the water.

"Why did I ever think following you was a good idea?"

You beamed, droplets of the salty sea clinging to your lashes, where they refracted the setting sun, and it's like stardust in broad daylight all over again.

"You have to do it all at once. Don't think. Just do," you encouraged, watching as the delicate, thinly defined muscles of his torso flexed and twitched over the surface of the water.

His gaze was devoid, save for deeply creased brows caught in contemplation. A war with the limits of sensation. He held his arms linked over his chest to preserve heat, or perhaps hide his vulnerability.

Water pooled in the cup of your hand, which you splashed in his direction, aimed right at his handsome frown.

Victory ignited like an ember amidst your eyes.

He grew to shudder a few arms' length from you. Broad and strong shoulders quivered helplessly.

"You!" Then, those burnt-honey eyes pierced yours. Glaring. Fixed.

The cupid-bow lining his upper lip momentously twitched as he repeated himself "You-" His words stumbled over unstable, shallow breaths.

You withdrew into the water's embrace and watched attentively, as the waterline climbed up his finely detailed torso. Outstretched arms grew nearer. Burnt-honey eyes widened in a vengeful craze. Ivory teeth became bared underneath strawberry-red lips.

A frightened giggle of yours bubbled the water's surface rimming your chin.

Finally, with an inhale of courage, Taehyung lunged forward, took the blow of the cold front on, and wrapped you in his arms. His weight sunk you beneath the surface. You were a pair of tangled anchors.

Not having stored a breath in your lungs, you squirmed and kicked in his old. His groans were muted by the harrowing echoes of the abyss beneath the sea.

Strong arms tightened around you and hauled you out. You broke the surface with a desperate gasp, choking for breath between giggles.

Laughter echoed in his chest, and reverberated through you. It reminded you of the waves and siren songs you grew up believing resided within conch shells as a pig-tailed kid.

Since having shed your milk teeth and tolerated the gnaw of growing pains that accompanied such loss, you'd given up on childish fables of that kind.

On trips to the shore, there weren't hidden siren songs in the colorful conch shells you held up to your ear. There was only your younger sister cackling beside you, calling you a fool - but only after having tried it for herself first.

But much as you had convinced yourself siren songs didn't exist inside the shells, you'd also convinced yourself you'd never hear that laugh again. Somber. Baritone. A tad boyish, in the way it would crack unpredictably. So wholly yours. It was a tune you'd looped in your memory from the very first instance you'd heard it.

In that split-second, with his hands fanned over your hip bones, and half-moon eyes tenderly fixed on yours, the fables did not seem so farfetched. New possibilities were solidifying at the tip of your fingers. Your fingers grazed the apples of his cheek.

The possibilities were whispers in the crest of your ear.

You'd only needed to get far enough from the bustling commotion of the city to hear them, to realize they'd always been there.

An abstract somethingness would always exist between you two, just barely palpable.

The champagne had a mildly scorched aroma undermining its light fizz. You grimaced as it burned its way down your throat.

On any given night, you would much prefer a cup of tea to pair with the sacred act of slipping into bed; green, chamomile, on occasion, even aromatic Tulsi.

But tonight, you weren't trying to sleep, to ease a mild case of insomnia. Sleep would rob you of time both of you knew you didn't have.

After a couple of swigs from the dark bottle, your skin began to buzz. A denseness subtly amounted over you, as though honey were dripped over your body, every move lubricated, viscous.

Your legs were warm, draped over his in a languid, but intimate manner - almost grounding in nature, as if you were his anchor. You tethered him to the present pleasures, kept his mind off the anxious tomorrows.

His lips were sweet on yours and at times a hint bitter, like something you shouldn't have taken pleasure in tasting. A poison, that grows tolerable the more you ingest, but not any less deadly.

The tolerance being an illusion, an influence of the poison over you, foreshadowing its impending triumph, as you relinquish your willpower.

That's it. You were dwindling under its influence. Your mind grew heavy, like your limbs, with intoxication.

It was no longer bitter.

Rather, it became cloying, and you were innately and undeniably insatiable.

Taehyung hoisted your hips to reposition them over his, desiring your proximity. Possibly as equally intoxicated. The question hung over your heads in the shape of a watchful moon.

Who was the poison?

The hold on you was rough, but harmless. It was the gentlest rough-grip you have ever been subjected to. You allowed it.

"I shouldn't do this." Your shallow breath ghosted his swollen lips in torment.

He nuzzled the distance in desperation, and you obliged, tasting him apprehensively.

Just one peck.

Then, another.

And, what if, perhaps you held his lips in place with adoration and reverence. Held them in a warm hug, as if to shield them from the cool breeze blowing in from the sea.

Would that have been such a crime?

The set of trespassers that tore through your blouse certainly were (criminal). They robbed you of any and every modicum of self-restraint.

You were no longer holding his lips. You had long since graduated to a sculptor, molding them to your will with each measured graze. Simultaneously, you started to circle your hips over his, back and forth, round around.

"We should stop." Taehyung breathed raggedly into your neck. "Tell me to stop," and it came across as half-plea, half-demand.

You defied him, pulled him close, your breasts flushed against his sturdy chest.

You were definitely the poison.

You were a corrupt, filthy little thing. Loved it when he called you out on it.

Tonight, he held you like you were something, someone sacred, like you were ceramic at risk of shattering in his hands.

You wrestled his gentle touch, wanting him to defile as he'd done enough times before for it to not be mistaken with error, overwhelming tempation.

You were temptation embodied, but he never once feigned sanctity.

Equally so, if not more, you deeply desired to defile him, to permeate every inch of him until the crime became undeniable.

Fast, is how it unfolded.

But is there any better way to go?

Live fast, die young, right? Shine so bright you burn out. A phenomenal supernova. Watchers gathered to experience a historic event.

There certainly wasn't an absolute right or wrong way to go. But, if there had been, Taehyung was certain that way was fast. To burn like the dozens of stars in the sky, framing the quaint balcony. One moment there, the next gone.

He knew that his departure approached just as quickly as dawn brightened the horizon. He knew you weren't oblivious to this fact.

Something in him winced at the thought of putting you through it again.

"Tell me to stop."

"Don't stop."

"Tell me to go," he almost begged, groaning as you kissed down the column of his neck.

"Stay."

He wished he could.

A ringtone blared across the room, funneling out through the creak between the balcony door and the frame. It said what neither could bring themselves to utter.

Taehyung marched out of the room, half-dressed, delirious but with a direction in mind.

And just like that, the bitter taste returned to overpower your senses.

The whispers in your ears, grew deceiving.

Deceitful little lies. Impossible possibilities.

The possibilities that had grazed your fingertips crumbled into mounds of sand.

Sand, after all, is only ever withered shells.

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flippedorbit · 2 years

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fuck it, pinned post time

names n pronouns

pfp was drawn by yours truly

commission sheet here!

i also have a ko-fi now!

tag me in pictures of squids (especially bobtail squids) and i will love you forever

tags :

Apollo’s Prophecies/Rasp Rambles (text posts)

Comet’s Creations (art tag)

Comet plays fnaf (self explanatory)

oc tag - Mercury/Polaris/Drip/Solaris/Aster/Orpheus/Helios/Octanis/Horizon (oc tags)

pet tag - da oickle (Pickles) / Eclipse / Scamper / Foxy / Sophie [tags for my three cats and two dogs (new as of Nov. 30, 2023)]

fresh tag/error tag/red tag/horror tag/reaper tag/etc (specific tags for different au sans fanart I reblog <-mostly for mutuals[cloudy] to look through) (and on occasion a fanart made by me)

____’s art (mutuals art tag [ex. “Snow’s art”])

Apowo’s Pwophecies (text post tag <-specifically for when my url is Fwippedowbit [“catboy” url])

____!! (asks sent by a mutual/follower)

anon (anon asks <-sometimes with a nickname/emoji in front)

Apollo answers (answered asks)

EllipticalTale Lore <-lore for my utau, consists of any new characters and their designs (this tag was created on 12/28/22 so there isn’t much in it at the moment, i’ll delete this when there’s more in the tag than the singular post in there)

sun tag/moon tag/eclipse tag - i feel like this one is probably self explanatory

#Apollo Pins Things #<-new pinned post tag #its short as hell but maybe when i start comms it’ll get longer #or i’ll make a new one #love how it used to be short as can be but is now like. maybe 3 or so paragraphs long.#as of december 1st 2023 this is Much Longer

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the-sound-ofrain · 1 year

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the night i encountered a snow storm naked on her floor.

i was walking down the blizzard, the frozen eyesight was only seeing the white frost settled on the eyebrows. i see a mere light , beside the polaris. i dragged my feet to reach the chalet. my whole body was feeling the chilly winters seeping through the rugged fur. i uttered with a shrilling voice "is there anyone ?" & knocked the only door to life.

a dream opened the door with untied hair & snuggled in the trench coat with a maroon scarf and pink lips with a gleamy pinch. She lent her hands to me asking to come in & my feet trembled to fall on hers. she picked me and walked me to the hearth. i asked her name to which she replied "Sequoia" the rareness of her in this cold desert. she covered me with a blanked & looked at me with eyes sown with question & i read that whispering slow "i'm elixir". she brought me a soup with teasing words "well you need one to survive at the moment." i circled my eyes around her abode & the walls were adorned with some intriguing artworks, while she came closer to take a bowl. i held her hands & take a closer look to the magical lines on her palm. she said "is it that ugly" with a poetic smile. i vocalized my words with a line "i see lines while you espy art". she blushed & slipped from my hands. she started telling the stories of her father who left her few days ago in search of another shelter & how she survived. we exchanged stories while the night kept getting darker & filled with carnal breezes whispering through hairs. i was still frosty to which she asked me to sit beside her & i scooched to her right. she wrapped her arms around my butter body & started rubbing my biceps. she asked " what do you do for leaving ?" i replied in fluttering voice "i'm a poet." & i took out my journal from my bag & handed her. i saw my pages feeling the warmth of her hands, the fingers tracing every word pierced through my desires. the erotic poems of mine started turning her warm pats into silky caressing. she asked " are you what your poem tells ?" with her dried up lips. i snuggled a bit closer and picked her hair behind ears & said "taste yourself."

she closed her and my warm breaths touched her ears and trembled her soul to the core.

my hands paved the way to her neck, bringing her face on mine to read the poetry she's. my tongue started deciphering the hieroglyphics of her lip folds, while her hands already started the sequence of stripping my shirt unbuttoning the coal and the way her nails scratched the cold chest of mine, it spoke the demon she has been pampering all these lonely nights. i started peeling the layers of her thirsty frame. i nailed my teeth with the bloody impulse of quenching the flak. she came on my and spread the legs around my thighs & tore the only piece of cloth on my upper body & started unbuttoning my pants to eat what her libido's needing.

i scraped her coat off her flesh and left her only in corset. she slid herself to my feet and tickled the tip of the sword like death kisses the soul before fetching it out of the cage of bones. she slurped from top to bottom still a gloomy eyes but devilish determination, gulping the whole fire log in her mouth with rhythmic strokes.

i entrusted the animal in me and pulled her to my lap and buried my face inside the fairy bosoms teasing the tip of the iceberg with my lingo. her moans were penetrating through the lonesome nights, making me howl the moon she was.

i tricked her legs and came on top of her & reached the horizon of intimacy & stared at her from there. she clocked her thighs around my neck and ordered me finish the flame i ignited.

i swallowed the whole agitated volcano in a go & she kept thrusting my face by lifting her hips. i offered her my legs my shoulders to sob orgasmic whimpers. i slapped the entrance like i knocked on her door a while ago and she said "cum inside". i started entering the dome with a shallow thrust. the rage of us, the blissful cursing, the animalistic intent build the momentum, brought us into the unrealistic motion. the advents of my poems settled beside her in one blanket and her flowery eyes thanked me for being there.

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iamvoid0 · 2 years

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Super Mario Bros Movie, Need For Speed Unbound, Tencent looks to acquire majority shares, Overwatch 2 backtracks on requirements, and Cyberpunk 2077 developers announce five new games!

What a massive week, The Super Mario Bros. Movie gets shown off, Tencent expands, looking to acquire a majority stake, CDPR announces Five new games, Need for Speed Unbound gets a trailer, and Overwatch 2 gets DDoS'd.

🕹️ The Console War Rages On

Horizon Zero Dawn Remake/Remaster in development - According to a new report, Horizon Zero Dawn - first released in 2017 - is set to receive a remake/remaster for the PS5 and PC. This new version is set to have improved lighting, textures, animations, models, and accessibility options. There is also a new multiplayer component in the form of Co-op. (Source)

Tencent is seeking a majority stake in gaming companies. Over the years, Chinese Technology & Entertainment conglomerate Tencent has been acquiring minority stakes in several large gaming studios and publishers, Activision-Blizzard, FromSoftware, and Epic Games, to name a new. A report published by Reuters indicates that Tencent is preparing to acquire many of the 'chart-topping' game studios and publishers by going from minority stake ownership to majority stake ownership. (Source)

PS5 has been jailbroken - A new exploit from @SpecterDev allows the PS5 to be jailbroken. The exploit is unstable and will only work about 30% of the time, the exploit provides read/write access, but there is no execute access at the moment. The exploit was initially made on v4.03 but has since been ported to v4.5 on the PS5. (Source)

CD Projekt has announced five new games in development - CDPR had a recent presentation where they outlined the next five games they are working on and additional information regarding the company's general goals. There is a new IP in development codenamed Hadar, a new Witcher project under the name Sirius, the latest Witcher 3 sequel that will kick off a new trilogy named Polaris, a new story-driven Witcher Game using the Canis Majoris name, as well as Orion - a sequel to Cyberpunk 2077. They also indicated that in the future, all games would include multiplayer. They have new content, which includes Mobile, TV & Film, in association with external partners. They are also opening a new Studio in North America. (Source)

Overwatch 2 gets DDoS'd - Overwatch 2 multiplayer launch this week saw a barrage of issues hit Blizzard and the Overwatch 2 game. Multiple DDoS attacks rendered players unable to get into the game with queue lengths as large as 80,000. Blizzard has since dropped the phone number requirement for its existing player base coming from Overwatch 1. (Source)

The Super Mario Bros Movie trailer has launched. In a Nintendo Direct, Nintendo showed off the new movie, with interviews from the animation studio behind the project, Illumination, and Nintendo's own Shigeru Miyamoto. (Source)

Need For Speed Unbound gets a trailer and release date - A new trailer dropped for the Unbound featuring A$AP Rocky. The trailer shows off a new cell-shaded look, drawing inspiration from comics and other stylized games. The game will be released on the 2nd of December, 2022. (Source)

Steam Deck Dock pre-orders go live - The Steam Deck Dock pre-orders have gone live. The Dock will feature 3 USB-A 3.1 Gen1 ports, a USB-C for power, DisplayPort, HDML, and a Gigabit Ethernet port. (Source)

✨ Going to Events Spiritually

Xbox Game Pass will receive Chivalry 2, Scorn, A Plague Tale: Requiem, and More. (Source)

🎮 Where's My Controller?

I've been trying to get into Warhammer. One of my friends recommended that I play Total War: Warhammer. I tried it out, but I don't know if it's for me. I like the civilization aspect of the game, but the core battle gameplay feels too sluggish and hard to control. I've been told it gets better once you get accustomed to it.

I've been trying to make my way through more of Terraria. I also realized I made a mistake in not making the world a large world from the get-go. But I will have to do another run to get the Crimson achievements. I don't know if I want to jump into a big world, abandon my medium world, or do a run quickly after completing the medium run.

📝I don't know what a pen looks like.

This week, I was pretty deep in my job, so I haven't touched the other content pools.

💖 Enjoy this newsletter?

Forward to a friend and let them know where they can subscribe (hint: it's here).

Coming Soon

More.

#news #warhammer #mario bros #mario #movie #nintendo #need for speed #a$ap rocky #unbound #overwatch #overwatch 2 #CDPR #cd projek #witcher #cyberpunk 2077 #tencent #horizon zero dawn

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spacenutspod · 5 months

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Astrolabes serve two purposes. First, they are useful as an astronomical tool, especially for finding a ship’s latitude. But second, they are works of art in themselves. Besides having to be precise, many are beautiful. They are even seeing a resurgence in popularity as collectors lap up even those made by modern manufacturing processes because of their aesthetic appeal. Now, a new paper adds to their uses – a self-referential ability to mark what year they were made by the patterns of the stars they reference. Emmanuel Davoust is a professional astronomer at the Observatorie Midi-Pyrenees in Toulouse, France. He’s also somewhat of an amateur historian. In a paper recently released on arXiv, he analyzes the positions of stars as where they would be with reference to the pointers on an astrolabe located in the Musee des Arts precieux Paul-Dupuy, also in Toulouse. Constructing an astrolabe is a complicated process and requires the manufacture of several parts with arcane names such as the “rete”, which “represents a planar projection of the celestial sphere,” and the “mater” – not referring to the animated Disney character, but the disc with graduations on the back that allow the user to determine a star’s height over the horizon. The astrolabe’s “rete” with its 34 pointers and the reference stars most closely aligned with it.Credit – Emmanuel Davoust But perhaps most importantly, astrolabes have “pointers” that, when placed against the sky, would represent the position of a particular set of stars. The astrolabe Dr. Davoust studied has 34 of these, though none are named. The solution to understanding what stars are at the end of the pointers might seem simple – hold the astrolabe out at different places in the sky until all 34 pointers point at something (and at Polaris – which must be located in the center of the rete). However, despite seemingly staying stationary in the night sky, stars do move over long periods – for example, over centuries. That slow, drifting movement is what Dr. Davoust used to date the astrolabe. Since the astrolabe lacked an obvious take of manufacture from the Dominican friars who made it, and none of the stars at the end of the pointers were named, it was time to bring modern technology into the effort. Interested in how to use an astrolabe? This tutorial from the British Museum might help.Credit – The British Museum YouTube Channel Dr. Davoust took a picture of the rete and tried to determine the coordinates of each of the 34 pointers. He then cross-referenced a star catalog that showed the position of all reference stars used on other known Latin astrolabes and tried to find the pattern closest to what was seen on the rete of the one he was studying. For an added layer of control, he limited the search between the years 1400 and 1700, with a step function of 50 years, and only on the date of the equinox for each year. He found that the equinox of the year 1550 was the closest to having referential stars near the end of the pointers on the Toulouse astrolabe. It didn’t line up quite precisely, but it was likely close enough to be helpful to the friars for whom it was initially designed. This bit of historical sleuthing using astronomy shows how cross-disciplinary research can bear unexpected fruit, even if that fruit is as simple as understanding when an object that is now only an impressive museum piece was built. Learn More:Emmanuel Davoust – Dating of a Latin astrolabeUT – AstrolabeUT – Armillary Sphere Lead Image:The astrolabe studied in the paper.Credit – Emmanuel Davoust / Musee des Arts precieux Paul-Dupuy The post The Positions of Stars on an Ancient Navigation Device Tell us When it was Made appeared first on Universe Today.

#space #astronomy #news #science

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kokorowoutsu-a · 1 year

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-- Leon and Ashe’s Engagement / Florges Ball 2023

OOC: Alright so I was debating on posting this but I might as well. Have the stroke of midnight post as it were and Leon and Ashe’s engagement post. It’s cheesy af but I was in a cheesy mood. This was NOT proof-read either and made before I took Grusha off my roster.

The night was long, people hustled and bustled, mingled, exchanged pleasantries and acts came and went, music befitting of a Ball began to play. “Leon--” The man had been observant of people attending and Grusha approaching to greet the family when he heard his name. Turning his head to look at her, he tilted his head, “-- Dance with me?” He found a look he couldn’t quite place due to the mixed emotions, but they were positive, and dare he say, adventurous. A smile formed on his features then, “Lead on.” For once, he wasn’t the one leading, and was instead following behind. So used to being the one to trailblaze ahead, he now found himself in the direction of his Polaris, and as she stopped, turning to face him, he caught her in his arms. The Ball had had more upbeat music up until this one -- it was traditional of something different, and this they could dance too, dipping, twirling, moving in unison, not too fast paced but there was something slow and yet intense about the way they moved.

At the end of the dance, both found themselves lost in those eyes they often looked too for strength. Leon held Ashe with an arm around her waist, Ashe pressed close. Catching their breaths for a moment, he found his resolve cemented then as he took her by the hands. “My turn.” Leading her away, Ashe found herself laughing to herself as they found themselves out of prying eyes and onto one of the balconies to catch some of the fresh Spring air. Taking a moment to overlook Paldea and breathe, Ashe felt Leon release her hands, but her gaze was wholly focused on the horizon and the sea. She could feel Lucky’s presence ever close by as well as her family’s, but before she could ask about what he thought of the view, she felt a gentle grip on her left hand and heard shuffling.

Turning her head and noting he was kneeling down, Ashe felt her heart catch in her throat as she was presented with a pokeball that held a ring so intricate she honestly could spend hours picking it apart. “... Leon--” His gaze though had her attention, her mouth slightly agape as he went to raise her knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss there to start before raising to his feet and standing to his full height. “-- I wasn’t even sure how to go about this, but i’m going to try.” He took in a deep breath and then began; “Three years ago, you let me in to know you and yours -- a world I had heard as folktales about -- but it was you alone who became my Polaris. I always had something to follow even when we were apart, but during those three years, you still let me lead... that is until recently.” A pause. “When Lucky evolved, something about you evolved too... something that I want to let you know I see. I see it... and it shines more beautiful each day, and to not be apart of it... human or not, mortal or not... would be a disgrace to my name and my honor I feel.”

Ashe had long since began to cry, still in shock, but the good kind -- and while he would wipe them away, he needed her to know how he felt;

“-- Its with this that I ask if you, Ashelia Blaire Grandcrest, will be my fiancee, and soon, hopefully, my wife... Will you marry me?”

“-- Yes--” She choked on the words as she went to blink tears away; “-- Yes! If I said no, i’d be lying and beating myself up everyday for not agreeing to this.” Watching as he slipped the ring onto her finger, Leon finally went to brush away her tears before his lips found her own, one arm sneaking around her waist to pull her close, kiss being broken. “-- Everyone’s going to be looking for us--” She murmurs against his lips. “Mhm--” He pulls back only slightest before she has to slip a hand up to his cheek, gently reminding him despite wanting to melt away into his gaze and forget they were even there. “-- Babe.” She uses the term of endearment as he smiles to himself.

“Right.” With that, he releases her, but not before offering her his arm. Ashe’s breath hitched in her throat and she had to wonder if this is how her Mother felt every time she took her Father’s, and as she looped her arm to his, he secured her close, escorting her back in and to the waiting smiles and excitement of the ones that mattered.

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