#let your light so $hine
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My Girl [Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OC]
Summary: Jake Seresin could be the answer to all of your dating woes. He’s the full package: steady job, mature, dependable, attractive to a fault. The polar opposite of every guy your age and he’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a partner. But there’s one roadblock: he’s a single father to four-year-old Ellie. Jake is looking for a level of commitment you’re not quite sure you’re ready to give, and he’s not willing to bring someone into his daughter’s life who isn’t there for the long haul. And even if you are stepmom material, is Jake ready to let someone back in his life while still mourning the recent loss of his late wife?
Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Lawyer Natalie West]
WC: 3.7K
Warning: Age gap, cursing
Series masterlist here
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“Excuse me, ma’am?”
You turned to see the most stunningly attractive man you’d ever seen in real life standing not four feet away holding two boxed cake mixes, one in each hand, with a confused frown etched across his tanned face. “Yes?” you answered, stepping closer, thankful you had chosen to wear a dress to the store instead of your usual yoga pants and dirty sweatshirt.
He held out the boxes. “Which of these would you rather eat?”
You turned your gaze to the boxes. One was a banana cake mix from Dolly Parton’s line with Duncan Hines. The other was a holiday spice cake mix. You looked up at him and squinted. It was early September. “Um.”
He read the hesitation in your voice and cracked a smile. “You can say neither.”
“Oh, thank God,” you breathed out, which elicited a laugh from him. Leaning over, you grabbed the boxes from his hands and pressed them back on the shelves, lifting up a funfetti mix and handing it to him. “Alright, it’s basic, but a crowd favorite. Not sure who you’re making the cake for, but anyone who doesn’t like funfetti is a psychopath so this should cover all your bases.”
He looked at the box before placing it carefully in his grocery cart. You spotted a few candles, some ice cream, eggs, milk. All of the makings of a birthday cake. “Thank you,” he said, leaning against the cart. He had piercing green eyes that were locked on yours, and a casual stance in his joggers and t-shirt that exuded a cocky kind of confidence you found only made its way to men in their thirties. You two were the only ones in the baking aisle. It was eight in the morning on a Saturday, not exactly prime grocery shopping time.
“No problem,” you said, shifting away, back toward your cart. “Hope you enjoy the cake.”
There was a pause in the air before his voice pulled you back in. “Can I get your opinion on frosting, too? Since you’re such an expert, and I’m obviously in need.”
You giggled, and stepped back closer, standing directly in front of the canned frosting, eyeing them carefully. He stepped behind you, close enough that you could almost feel his breath on your shoulder, and it made your skin tingle without him even touching you. If it had been any other random guy, you would have been disgusted by his proximity. But he was different. Light stubble, soft blonde hair that was slightly longer on top, a pair of aviator shades hooked in the front of his plain shirt. He looked like a walking magazine ad and you were shocked he was giving you the time of day.
“I think,” you murmured, reaching forward and grabbing a container, “I would go with chocolate. A little unconventional, if you want to be traditional you would do vanilla. But I’m a chocolate girl.”
Turning around, you went to hand the frosting to him but his hand was already on your wrist, sliding down your fingers slowly to take the canister away from you. You looked up to see him smiling at you. It was almost sinful how good he looked so early in the morning. Quickly, your eyes flickered down. No wedding band. “Thank you,” he said softly, and if anyone had turned down the aisle they would see a thirty-something blond man looming mere inches from a small blonde in a maxi dress, eyes locked in a silent but heated conversation.
“I’m Natalie,” you whispered.
He pulled back after a moment. “Jake.”
Your heart was doing sprints in your chest. You watched as he dropped the chocolate frosting into his cart before scratching at his neck awkwardly.
“I know this probably sounds weird but, would you want to get a coffee sometime?” he asked and you saw that cocky demeanor falter for a moment as his eyes searched your face for an initial reaction. “Unless you’re involved?” Jake trailed off, waiting for your response.
You shook your head and watched his smile begin to cave in, realizing that the head motion had made it seem like you were in a relationship which you definitely were not. “No, sorry!” you rushed, holding up your hands in a panic. “I mean, yes, I’d love to get coffee with you and no, I’m not involved with anyone.” It came out in a flustered jumble and you wanted to smash your head into the bags of powdered sugar to your right to avoid Jake’s smirk.
Jake laughed. It was unrestrained, genuine. It made you feel like you could trust him. “You’re absolutely adorable.”
You groaned and he laughed again, holding out his unlocked phone.
“Here,” Jake said. “Put your number in, I’ll call you.”
Call. It was such a small thing, and it only went to reiterate that your standards had taken on a subterranean level low over the last few years. But twenty-six-year-old guys didn’t call. They texted, and when they did it was at eleven o’clock at night, three drinks deep in a shitty Irish pub. You were tired of dating boys your age.
Jake was obviously not a boy. Your fingers flew over the keyboard, typing in your contact, and when you handed it back to him he raised an eyebrow. “Natalie West.”
You nodded.
His eyes twinkled. “I’ll call you.”
You smiled, tossing him one last look over your shoulder before sauntering back to your cart. “Enjoy the cake!”
Exiting the store, you slipped on a pair of sunglasses and unloaded your groceries into the car. Once you had settled in the driver’s seat, you felt your phone buzz and you pulled it out, a number with a strange area code lighting up the screen.
“Hello?” you said into the phone, hesitant of another telemarketing scheme but concerned that it could be a client so you answered anyway.
“Natalie West,” Jake drawled and your mouth dropped open. You hadn’t expected him to call so soon, or at all. “When can I take you for that coffee?”
You leaned back against the seat. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
***
It was fifteen minutes after four. He was late. You hadn’t expected that from him. The two of you had only interacted for five or so minutes at the grocery store, but he had all of the makings of a gentleman. The slight Southern twang, the fancy watch and casual demeanor. The birthday cake materials for God’s sake. When was the last time Sam had even considered making a birthday cake from scratch? Probably never, unless it was for his mother. You shuddered at the thought.
Just as you were about to pull out your phone and text him, the door swung open and you saw Jake look around, eyes wide. He spotted you in the corner and rushed over, wearing a pair of chino shorts and a short sleeve button down that showed off his tanned, muscular arms. There was a frazzled air that clung to him, a significant contrast to the calm demeanor he had embodied at the grocery store.
“Natalie,” he said, kissing your cheek as you stood to greet him and you felt the buzz of his stubble on your skin as he pulled away. “I am so sorry, honestly. I’m usually never late. I’m annoyingly on time most days. This is an anomaly, I promise.”
You sat down, brushing your fingers over your high waisted shorts and smiled. “It’s alright. Strike one, but you have two left. Not to give you any ideas.”
He flashed an electric grin, spotted the nearly empty iced coffee in front of you. “Fuck, let me buy your second coffee, please?” There was a bit of pleading in his eyes. For the first time you noticed small crows feet near the edges of his eyes when he smiled, or in this case grimaced. “Again, I’m so sorry.”
You reached over and placed a small hand on his, your pink nails and fingertips pressing down reassuringly against his taunt skin. Jake looked down at your hand and then back up at you, noticeably calmer. “Jake, it’s fine. Seriously. Take a breath.”
He sunk back into the chair and sucked in a deep breath. “Thank you. I needed that.”
You smiled, retracting your hand, but not before Jake grabbed it with his fingers, giving you a squeeze. It was a familiar gesture, like you had known each other for years. “Iced oat latte, if you’re going up.”
Jake grinned and stood, and you admired him as he walked toward the counter in his tight shorts.
“So, why were you late?” you asked when he returned to the table, coffees in hand. You silently noted that he drank black iced coffee. It felt like a douchebag choice, like an MBA candidate who wanted to lecture you on the hazards of the Fed’s rate hike rollout plans, but for him it somehow worked.
There was a small, almost unnoticeable moment when Jake froze. And then it was gone. “Just, uh, scheduling issues on my end,” he said after a split second. “Sorry again.”
You shook your head. “Don’t worry about it. I only made it on time because I have this obsessive need to scope out parking for places I’ve never been before, so I left ten minutes earlier than I needed to.”
He chuckled and took a sip of coffee. “So, Natalie, what do you do?”
“I’m a lawyer.” It still felt weird to say.
Jake raised his eyebrows. “Wow, really?”
“You look surprised.”
“You just look, well, young, I guess.” For a second, you worried that perhaps your age was the draw for him. That all he wanted was a good hot fuck, twenty minutes of pleasure, before he tossed you out on your ass still wearing a state school pledge week t-shirt that you had yet to retire.
“I’m twenty-six.”
“God,” Jake groaned, running his hands through his hair. “I was a fucking mess at twenty-six.”
“And how long ago was that?” you asked, leaning over the small marble table. “Twenty years ago? Or just fifteen?”
His green eyes lit up. “You’re quippy. I like that.”
You shrugged. “But seriously, how old are you grandpa?”
He grimaced again and you laughed. “I’m thirty-five.”
Almost a decade older than you. You took a sip of your coffee to avoid saying anything too snippy in response. What did a thirty-five-year-old possibly want with you except sex? And why did that not bother you so much? Your eyes roamed over the canvas that was his body. He looked straight out of a Roman art history textbook about sculpture.
“What kind of law?”
“The boring kind,” you replied softly. “Finance. I work in-house for a fund manager.”
Jake’s eyebrows shot up. “Everything you’ve said in the last two minutes has impressed me.”
You let out a laugh and watched his eyes light up. Despite the age difference, he was easy to get along with. “Alright, now tell me some stuff about you. I feel like this is a one-sided job interview and I’m being grilled.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Um, I’m from Texas. I’ve lived here for about six years now. I’m stationed out at Top Gun.”
You nodded. You’d lived in San Diego long enough to know the Navy’s base on North Island, but until yesterday you had yet to meet anyone who actually worked there. “So what do you do?” you asked. “Sorry, I know literally nothing about the Navy.”
Jake’s lips quirked up on one side. “I’m an aviator. A jet pilot. But mostly now I’m just an instructor.”
A pilot. God, that explained the physique, the effortless charm that oozed out of his pores. It also explained why he was at the grocery store buying cake mix at eight in the morning. He probably had just as terrible of a work schedule as you did.
“Does that buy me cool points?” he asked breezily and you smiled.
“Oh, definitely.”
There was a relaxed charm about him. Two hours passed and you almost forgot that before he had walked through the door you had essentially been strangers. Being with Jake felt easier than you had expected.
He looked down at his watch, eyes growing wide. “Shit, Natalie, I’m so sorry but I have to run.”
You stood up and he placed a large, warm hand on your back, guiding you outside in front of him, opening the door and ushering you through. The temperature had dipped a few degrees since you had arrived, but it was still balmy outside.
The door snapped shut and you turned to Jake. He gave you a soft smile that pulled on the corner of his lips, revealing pearly white teeth.
The two of you stood there outside the coffee shop on the sidewalk for what felt like ages. A palpable tension had settled in the space between your bodies. You kept looking to Jake to make a move, say something, but he looked like he was at a loss for words.
Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, pressing one hand to his upper arm where his shirt sleeve ended. You tilted your head back, standing on tiptoes to graze your lips softly against his. His eyes flashed open in surprise, hand reaching out and only finding air as you pulled back just as quickly as you had leaned forward.
“I wasn’t sure you were going to go for it, so I thought I would,” you said softly and Jake pushed one hand into his shorts pocket.
“I’m not very good at this,” he admitted after a moment, hanging his head. The suave persona had washed away and the man standing in front of you looked almost timid.
“What’s this?” you asked.
“Dating,” he replied instantly. “It’s been a while.”
You nodded. You knew a divorced man when you saw one. “If it’s any consolation, you’re doing just fine.”
He smiled, reaching out one hand and brushing his thumb over your cheek. “I really do have to go,” he murmured. “But I’d like to see you again. If I haven’t completely turned you off by not even knowing that I should kiss you at the end of a date.”
You let out a small giggle. “You didn’t ruin anything.”
“Goodbye, Natalie West,” he murmured, stepping closer and whispering it into your ear. You shivered as he pulled away, his fingertips brushing your waist, before he stepped out into the road, looking both ways and jogging over to a silver Range Rover parked on the other side of the street. “I’ll call you!”
You shook your head, laughing. “You better!”
***
Jake did, in fact, call. He called every night for two weeks. You spent at least an hour every night talking to him on the phone. Usually you had your Airpods in, folding laundry or doing the dishes, all of the chores that you never got around to during the day when it was purely paperwork and meetings and doing favors for partners.
Jake called at ten o’clock on the dot every night, Monday through Sunday. You learned that he had a dog named Coconut, an old Border Collie, and that he grew up with three sisters on a ranch outside Austin and that he had almost died in a skydiving accident where his parachute very nearly refused to open. You told him about how you had almost passed out waiting to see the results of the bar exam, and how when you were seven you rolled out of bed in your sleep and hit your head on the nightstand, which left you with a small scar down your right cheek.
He was unlike the other guys you had dated. There were a handful of online or app dates, each just as bad, if not worse, than the next. One had asked you on a second date and you almost accepted, before you found his mugshot online for drunk and disorderly conduct. Another had been a resident physician who was probably the most boring man you had ever met, and who loved to talk about himself more than Kanye.
And then there was Sam, your most recent ex. You had met in your second year of law school while on the law review together. It was good, at first. Never great. When school ended, he moved to San Francisco and you stayed in San Diego. Less than four months after he moved, you found out he was sleeping with another associate at his firm.
Jake was a breath of fresh air. He had none of the childish antics that had dominated the personalities of Sam and the other guys you had dated. If he made a promise, he stuck to it.
You saw each other three more times over the course of the two weeks. Another coffee and two dinners. He had stepped forward and kissed you after the coffee date, leaning back and cupping your face in one of his large hands.
“Forgive me,” he murmured. “I’m still getting used to this whole dating thing.”
“You’re getting better,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in close.
After the first dinner, Jake drove you home, pressed you up against the archway of your front door, one hand sliding around the waist of your jeans and up underneath your shirt against your bare back. You had moaned into his lips, felt him harden in his trousers where he was pressed against you. Finally, he pulled back. “Goodnight, Natalie,” he whispered and you pouted.
“Can’t you come in?” you begged.
He shook his head. “I wish, baby. But I have to get home.”
You nodded and he watched from the walkway as you stepped inside, closing and locking the door.
After the second date, you sat in the passenger seat of his Range Rover, Jake’s hand hot on your bare thigh underneath the short hem of your dress. “Jake?” you whispered into his mouth.
“Yeah baby?”
“Where are you always rushing off to?” you asked softly.
He pulled back and you tried to prepare yourself mentally for the worst outcome. That he was married. Or that he lived at home with his mother in a basement, although realistically you knew that his mother still lived back in Texas.
“I’m sorry,” you said after a moment of silence, sitting back in the seat and fiddling with the strap of your Prada shoulder bag. “I’m prying.”
Jake shook his head. “No, not at all. You deserve to know.”
You sucked in a breath. He looked pensive.
“I have a daughter. Ellie. She’s four.”
“Oh.” You let out the breath. That you hadn’t expected.
Jake’s face glowed softly under the moonlight that slid in at an angle across the windshield from where you were parked outside your townhouse. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you, or when would be a good time. But I have a daughter. That’s why I have to keep such a strict schedule. She’s at day care during the day, and then a nanny picks her up when I can’t get off of work. She goes to sleep around eight, which is why whenever I call, it's after that.”
Everything clicked into place. You snuck a peak behind you to the second row of seats and saw a small doll lying on the floor mat behind the driver’s seat. How had you missed that?
“Natalie?” Jake asked softly. “Can you tell me what you’re thinking please?”
“I’m just surprised I guess.”
He frowned. “Is this a deal breaker for you?”
“No!” you rushed out and he smiled lightly. “It’s just, I’ve never dated someone with a kid before.”
Jake smiled. “She’s easy, I promise. But I know it’s not for everyone, so I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. If you want to stop seeing each other, I completely understand.”
You shifted forward, taking Jake’s head into your hands and pressing your lips to his softly. He was by far the best kisser you had ever known. Soft, warm lips carefully moving against yours, his tongue exploring your mouth gently.
Finally, you pulled away.
“I really don’t want to stop seeing you,” you murmured.
“Good,” Jake said, opening his door and stepping out, walking around the truck and opening the passenger door, offering you his hand. You walked hand-in-hand to the front door, and as you opened your bag to pull out your keys, Jake’s voice stopped you short. “What are you doing on Thursday night?”
You leaned against the door. “Depends on what you’re about to ask.”
He grinned. “I’d like to have you over.”
“To your house?”
He nodded. “It’s Ellie’s birthday on Thursday. I’d love for you to meet her.”
Your eyes widened. “Are you sure? Isn’t that like a big deal?”
Jake wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in tighter. “I’m positive. I want you to meet her, and she’ll never be as happy as she is on her birthday.”
Your arms snaked around his neck, one hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. Jake started to practically purr in your ear. “I’ll be there.”
He leaned down, locking you in a kiss, slotting his knee between your legs and you audibly moaned against his mouth as your core ground down against him. The two of you had yet to do anything more than make out, but your body was screaming for him from every pore.
When Jake pulled away, you swore you saw a hint of hesitation in his eyes. But then you blinked and it was gone.
He squeezed your hand. “So, Thursday?”
You nodded, putting the key in the door and turning the lock. Once you were inside, you leaned out through the door frame. “Wait, Jake!”
He stopped and turned on the path back to his truck. “Yeah baby?”
“What the hell kind of gift do I buy for a four-year-old?”
A/N: This is the first time I'm working on two series fics simultaneously, so will be slower to update than previous series! Also this is a storyline that's just close to my heart, as I was raised by a single dad for most of my life so Dad Jake really gets me in the feels!
Tag list: @xoxabs88xox @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @abaker74 @novagreen04 @townmoondaltwistle @rosiahills22 @indynerdgirl @entertainmentgal8 @misshoneypaper @topguncultleader @double-j @amortentiadrops
#jake hangman fic#jake hangman imagine#jake seresin x oc#hangman fanfiction#hangman top gun#top gun imagine#top gun maverick imagine#top gun fanfiction#hangman x oc#jake x oc
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My Girl [Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OC]
Summary: Jake Seresin could be the answer to all of your dating woes. He’s the full package: steady job, mature, dependable, attractive to a fault. The polar opposite of every guy your age and he’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a partner. But there’s one roadblock: he’s a single father to four-year-old Ellie. Jake is looking for a level of commitment you’re not quite sure you’re ready to give, and he’s not willing to bring someone into his daughter’s life who isn’t there for the long haul. And even if you are stepmom material, is Jake ready to let someone back in his life while still mourning the recent loss of his late wife?
Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Lawyer Natalie West]
WC: 3.7K
Warning: Age gap, cursing
Also see on my original page here
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
You turned to see the most stunningly attractive man you’d ever seen in real life standing not four feet away holding two boxed cake mixes, one in each hand, with a confused frown etched across his tanned face. “Yes?” you answered, stepping closer, thankful you had chosen to wear a dress to the store instead of your usual yoga pants and dirty sweatshirt.
He held out the boxes. “Which of these would you rather eat?”
You turned your gaze to the boxes. One was a banana cake mix from Dolly Parton’s line with Duncan Hines. The other was a holiday spice cake mix. You looked up at him and squinted. It was early September. “Um.”
He read the hesitation in your voice and cracked a smile. “You can say neither.”
“Oh, thank God,” you breathed out, which elicited a laugh from him. Leaning over, you grabbed the boxes from his hands and pressed them back on the shelves, lifting up a funfetti mix and handing it to him. “Alright, it’s basic, but a crowd favorite. Not sure who you’re making the cake for, but anyone who doesn’t like funfetti is a psychopath so this should cover all your bases.”
He looked at the box before placing it carefully in his grocery cart. You spotted a few candles, some ice cream, eggs, milk. All of the makings of a birthday cake. “Thank you,” he said, leaning against the cart. He had piercing green eyes that were locked on yours, and a casual stance in his joggers and t-shirt that exuded a cocky kind of confidence you found only made its way to men in their thirties. You two were the only ones in the baking aisle. It was eight in the morning on a Saturday, not exactly prime grocery shopping time.
“No problem,” you said, shifting away, back toward your cart. “Hope you enjoy the cake.”
There was a pause in the air before his voice pulled you back in. “Can I get your opinion on frosting, too? Since you’re such an expert, and I’m obviously in need.”
You giggled, and stepped back closer, standing directly in front of the canned frosting, eyeing them carefully. He stepped behind you, close enough that you could almost feel his breath on your shoulder, and it made your skin tingle without him even touching you. If it had been any other random guy, you would have been disgusted by his proximity. But he was different. Light stubble, soft blonde hair that was slightly longer on top, a pair of aviator shades hooked in the front of his plain shirt. He looked like a walking magazine ad and you were shocked he was giving you the time of day.
“I think,” you murmured, reaching forward and grabbing a container, “I would go with chocolate. A little unconventional, if you want to be traditional you would do vanilla. But I’m a chocolate girl.”
Turning around, you went to hand the frosting to him but his hand was already on your wrist, sliding down your fingers slowly to take the canister away from you. You looked up to see him smiling at you. It was almost sinful how good he looked so early in the morning. Quickly, your eyes flickered down. No wedding band. “Thank you,” he said softly, and if anyone had turned down the aisle they would see a thirty-something blond man looming mere inches from a small blonde in a maxi dress, eyes locked in a silent but heated conversation.
“I’m Natalie,” you whispered.
He pulled back after a moment. “Jake.”
Your heart was doing sprints in your chest. You watched as he dropped the chocolate frosting into his cart before scratching at his neck awkwardly.
“I know this probably sounds weird but, would you want to get a coffee sometime?” he asked and you saw that cocky demeanor falter for a moment as his eyes searched your face for an initial reaction. “Unless you’re involved?” Jake trailed off, waiting for your response.
You shook your head and watched his smile begin to cave in, realizing that the head motion had made it seem like you were in a relationship which you definitely were not. “No, sorry!” you rushed, holding up your hands in a panic. “I mean, yes, I’d love to get coffee with you and no, I’m not involved with anyone.” It came out in a flustered jumble and you wanted to smash your head into the bags of powdered sugar to your right to avoid Jake’s smirk.
Jake laughed. It was unrestrained, genuine. It made you feel like you could trust him. “You’re absolutely adorable.”
You groaned and he laughed again, holding out his unlocked phone.
“Here,” Jake said. “Put your number in, I’ll call you.”
Call. It was such a small thing, and it only went to reiterate that your standards had taken on a subterranean level low over the last few years. But twenty-six-year-old guys didn’t call. They texted, and when they did it was at eleven o’clock at night, three drinks deep in a shitty Irish pub. You were tired of dating boys your age.
Jake was obviously not a boy. Your fingers flew over the keyboard, typing in your contact, and when you handed it back to him he raised an eyebrow. “Natalie West.”
You nodded.
His eyes twinkled. “I’ll call you.”
You smiled, tossing him one last look over your shoulder before sauntering back to your cart. “Enjoy the cake!”
Exiting the store, you slipped on a pair of sunglasses and unloaded your groceries into the car. Once you had settled in the driver’s seat, you felt your phone buzz and you pulled it out, a number with a strange area code lighting up the screen.
“Hello?” you said into the phone, hesitant of another telemarketing scheme but concerned that it could be a client so you answered anyway.
“Natalie West,” Jake drawled and your mouth dropped open. You hadn’t expected him to call so soon, or at all. “When can I take you for that coffee?”
You leaned back against the seat. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
***
It was fifteen minutes after four. He was late. You hadn’t expected that from him. The two of you had only interacted for five or so minutes at the grocery store, but he had all of the makings of a gentleman. The slight Southern twang, the fancy watch and casual demeanor. The birthday cake materials for God’s sake. When was the last time Sam had even considered making a birthday cake from scratch? Probably never, unless it was for his mother. You shuddered at the thought.
Just as you were about to pull out your phone and text him, the door swung open and you saw Jake look around, eyes wide. He spotted you in the corner and rushed over, wearing a pair of chino shorts and a short sleeve button down that showed off his tanned, muscular arms. There was a frazzled air that clung to him, a significant contrast to the calm demeanor he had embodied at the grocery store.
“Natalie,” he said, kissing your cheek as you stood to greet him and you felt the buzz of his stubble on your skin as he pulled away. “I am so sorry, honestly. I’m usually never late. I’m annoyingly on time most days. This is an anomaly, I promise.”
You sat down, brushing your fingers over your high waisted shorts and smiled. “It’s alright. Strike one, but you have two left. Not to give you any ideas.”
He flashed an electric grin, spotted the nearly empty iced coffee in front of you. “Fuck, let me buy your second coffee, please?” There was a bit of pleading in his eyes. For the first time you noticed small crows feet near the edges of his eyes when he smiled, or in this case grimaced. “Again, I’m so sorry.”
You reached over and placed a small hand on his, your pink nails and fingertips pressing down reassuringly against his taunt skin. Jake looked down at your hand and then back up at you, noticeably calmer. “Jake, it’s fine. Seriously. Take a breath.”
He sunk back into the chair and sucked in a deep breath. “Thank you. I needed that.”
You smiled, retracting your hand, but not before Jake grabbed it with his fingers, giving you a squeeze. It was a familiar gesture, like you had known each other for years. “Iced oat latte, if you’re going up.”
Jake grinned and stood, and you admired him as he walked toward the counter in his tight shorts.
“So, why were you late?” you asked when he returned to the table, coffees in hand. You silently noted that he drank black iced coffee. It felt like a douchebag choice, like an MBA candidate who wanted to lecture you on the hazards of the Fed’s rate hike rollout plans, but for him it somehow worked.
There was a small, almost unnoticeable moment when Jake froze. And then it was gone. “Just, uh, scheduling issues on my end,” he said after a split second. “Sorry again.”
You shook your head. “Don’t worry about it. I only made it on time because I have this obsessive need to scope out parking for places I’ve never been before, so I left ten minutes earlier than I needed to.”
He chuckled and took a sip of coffee. “So, Natalie, what do you do?”
“I’m a lawyer.” It still felt weird to say.
Jake raised his eyebrows. “Wow, really?”
“You look surprised.”
“You just look, well, young, I guess.” For a second, you worried that perhaps your age was the draw for him. That all he wanted was a good hot fuck, twenty minutes of pleasure, before he tossed you out on your ass still wearing a state school pledge week t-shirt that you had yet to retire.
“I’m twenty-six.”
“God,” Jake groaned, running his hands through his hair. “I was a fucking mess at twenty-six.”
“And how long ago was that?” you asked, leaning over the small marble table. “Twenty years ago? Or just fifteen?”
His green eyes lit up. “You’re quippy. I like that.”
You shrugged. “But seriously, how old are you grandpa?”
He grimaced again and you laughed. “I’m thirty-five.”
Almost a decade older than you. You took a sip of your coffee to avoid saying anything too snippy in response. What did a thirty-five-year-old possibly want with you except sex? And why did that not bother you so much? Your eyes roamed over the canvas that was his body. He looked straight out of a Roman art history textbook about sculpture.
“What kind of law?”
“The boring kind,” you replied softly. “Finance. I work in-house for a fund manager.”
Jake’s eyebrows shot up. “Everything you’ve said in the last two minutes has impressed me.”
You let out a laugh and watched his eyes light up. Despite the age difference, he was easy to get along with. “Alright, now tell me some stuff about you. I feel like this is a one-sided job interview and I’m being grilled.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Um, I’m from Texas. I’ve lived here for about six years now. I’m stationed out at Top Gun.”
You nodded. You’d lived in San Diego long enough to know the Navy’s base on North Island, but until yesterday you had yet to meet anyone who actually worked there. “So what do you do?” you asked. “Sorry, I know literally nothing about the Navy.”
Jake’s lips quirked up on one side. “I’m an aviator. A jet pilot. But mostly now I’m just an instructor.”
A pilot. God, that explained the physique, the effortless charm that oozed out of his pores. It also explained why he was at the grocery store buying cake mix at eight in the morning. He probably had just as terrible of a work schedule as you did.
“Does that buy me cool points?” he asked breezily and you smiled.
“Oh, definitely.”
There was a relaxed charm about him. Two hours passed and you almost forgot that before he had walked through the door you had essentially been strangers. Being with Jake felt easier than you had expected.
He looked down at his watch, eyes growing wide. “Shit, Natalie, I’m so sorry but I have to run.”
You stood up and he placed a large, warm hand on your back, guiding you outside in front of him, opening the door and ushering you through. The temperature had dipped a few degrees since you had arrived, but it was still balmy outside.
The door snapped shut and you turned to Jake. He gave you a soft smile that pulled on the corner of his lips, revealing pearly white teeth.
The two of you stood there outside the coffee shop on the sidewalk for what felt like ages. A palpable tension had settled in the space between your bodies. You kept looking to Jake to make a move, say something, but he looked like he was at a loss for words.
Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, pressing one hand to his upper arm where his shirt sleeve ended. You tilted your head back, standing on tiptoes to graze your lips softly against his. His eyes flashed open in surprise, hand reaching out and only finding air as you pulled back just as quickly as you had leaned forward.
“I wasn’t sure you were going to go for it, so I thought I would,” you said softly and Jake pushed one hand into his shorts pocket.
“I’m not very good at this,” he admitted after a moment, hanging his head. The suave persona had washed away and the man standing in front of you looked almost timid.
“What’s this?” you asked.
“Dating,” he replied instantly. “It’s been a while.”
You nodded. You knew a divorced man when you saw one. “If it’s any consolation, you’re doing just fine.”
He smiled, reaching out one hand and brushing his thumb over your cheek. “I really do have to go,” he murmured. “But I’d like to see you again. If I haven’t completely turned you off by not even knowing that I should kiss you at the end of a date.”
You let out a small giggle. “You didn’t ruin anything.”
“Goodbye, Natalie West,” he murmured, stepping closer and whispering it into your ear. You shivered as he pulled away, his fingertips brushing your waist, before he stepped out into the road, looking both ways and jogging over to a silver Range Rover parked on the other side of the street. “I’ll call you!”
You shook your head, laughing. “You better!”
***
Jake did, in fact, call. He called every night for two weeks. You spent at least an hour every night talking to him on the phone. Usually you had your Airpods in, folding laundry or doing the dishes, all of the chores that you never got around to during the day when it was purely paperwork and meetings and doing favors for partners.
Jake called at ten o’clock on the dot every night, Monday through Sunday. You learned that he had a dog named Coconut, an old Border Collie, and that he grew up with three sisters on a ranch outside Austin and that he had almost died in a skydiving accident where his parachute very nearly refused to open. You told him about how you had almost passed out waiting to see the results of the bar exam, and how when you were seven you rolled out of bed in your sleep and hit your head on the nightstand, which left you with a small scar down your right cheek.
He was unlike the other guys you had dated. There were a handful of online or app dates, each just as bad, if not worse, than the next. One had asked you on a second date and you almost accepted, before you found his mugshot online for drunk and disorderly conduct. Another had been a resident physician who was probably the most boring man you had ever met, and who loved to talk about himself more than Kanye.
And then there was Sam, your most recent ex. You had met in your second year of law school while on the law review together. It was good, at first. Never great. When school ended, he moved to San Francisco and you stayed in San Diego. Less than four months after he moved, you found out he was sleeping with another associate at his firm.
Jake was a breath of fresh air. He had none of the childish antics that had dominated the personalities of Sam and the other guys you had dated. If he made a promise, he stuck to it.
You saw each other three more times over the course of the two weeks. Another coffee and two dinners. He had stepped forward and kissed you after the coffee date, leaning back and cupping your face in one of his large hands.
“Forgive me,” he murmured. “I’m still getting used to this whole dating thing.”
“You’re getting better,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in close.
After the first dinner, Jake drove you home, pressed you up against the archway of your front door, one hand sliding around the waist of your jeans and up underneath your shirt against your bare back. You had moaned into his lips, felt him harden in his trousers where he was pressed against you. Finally, he pulled back. “Goodnight, Natalie,” he whispered and you pouted.
“Can’t you come in?” you begged.
He shook his head. “I wish, baby. But I have to get home.”
You nodded and he watched from the walkway as you stepped inside, closing and locking the door.
After the second date, you sat in the passenger seat of his Range Rover, Jake’s hand hot on your bare thigh underneath the short hem of your dress. “Jake?” you whispered into his mouth.
“Yeah baby?”
“Where are you always rushing off to?” you asked softly.
He pulled back and you tried to prepare yourself mentally for the worst outcome. That he was married. Or that he lived at home with his mother in a basement, although realistically you knew that his mother still lived back in Texas.
“I’m sorry,” you said after a moment of silence, sitting back in the seat and fiddling with the strap of your Prada shoulder bag. “I’m prying.”
Jake shook his head. “No, not at all. You deserve to know.”
You sucked in a breath. He looked pensive.
“I have a daughter. Ellie. She’s four.”
“Oh.” You let out the breath. That you hadn’t expected.
Jake’s face glowed softly under the moonlight that slid in at an angle across the windshield from where you were parked outside your townhouse. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you, or when would be a good time. But I have a daughter. That’s why I have to keep such a strict schedule. She’s at day care during the day, and then a nanny picks her up when I can’t get off of work. She goes to sleep around eight, which is why whenever I call, it's after that.”
Everything clicked into place. You snuck a peak behind you to the second row of seats and saw a small doll lying on the floor mat behind the driver’s seat. How had you missed that?
“Natalie?” Jake asked softly. “Can you tell me what you’re thinking please?”
“I’m just surprised I guess.”
He frowned. “Is this a deal breaker for you?”
“No!” you rushed out and he smiled lightly. “It’s just, I’ve never dated someone with a kid before.”
Jake smiled. “She’s easy, I promise. But I know it’s not for everyone, so I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. If you want to stop seeing each other, I completely understand.”
You shifted forward, taking Jake’s head into your hands and pressing your lips to his softly. He was by far the best kisser you had ever known. Soft, warm lips carefully moving against yours, his tongue exploring your mouth gently.
Finally, you pulled away.
“I really don’t want to stop seeing you,” you murmured.
“Good,” Jake said, opening his door and stepping out, walking around the truck and opening the passenger door, offering you his hand. You walked hand-in-hand to the front door, and as you opened your bag to pull out your keys, Jake’s voice stopped you short. “What are you doing on Thursday night?”
You leaned against the door. “Depends on what you’re about to ask.”
He grinned. “I’d like to have you over.”
“To your house?”
He nodded. “It’s Ellie’s birthday on Thursday. I’d love for you to meet her.”
Your eyes widened. “Are you sure? Isn’t that like a big deal?”
Jake wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in tighter. “I’m positive. I want you to meet her, and she’ll never be as happy as she is on her birthday.”
Your arms snaked around his neck, one hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. Jake started to practically purr in your ear. “I’ll be there.”
He leaned down, locking you in a kiss, slotting his knee between your legs and you audibly moaned against his mouth as your core ground down against him. The two of you had yet to do anything more than make out, but your body was screaming for him from every pore.
When Jake pulled away, you swore you saw a hint of hesitation in his eyes. But then you blinked and it was gone.
He squeezed your hand. “So, Thursday?”
You nodded, putting the key in the door and turning the lock. Once you were inside, you leaned out through the door frame. “Wait, Jake!”
He stopped and turned on the path back to his truck. “Yeah baby?”
“What the hell kind of gift do I buy for a four-year-old?”
A/N: This is the first time I'm working on two series fics simultaneously, so will be slower to update than previous series! Also this is a storyline that's just close to my heart, as I was raised by a single dad for most of my life so Dad Jake really gets me in the feels! If you want to be added to the tag list or taken off just message me or comment below! xx
#jake seresin#top gun hangman#hangman fic#jake seresin x reader#top gun fanfiction#top gun imagine#top gun#hangman x oc#hangman fluff
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Hello! What were your reasons behind the songs you put in your playlist, if you don't mind me asking?
they Playlist in question: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6WWoYyJTUYwcc7zEdopCev?si=40b332674a8e4e3e
I’ve had this ask sitting in the ask box for well over a year now! My sincerest apologies for keeping you waiting. I’ve been very picky with the song selection, even today I’m still not happy with the damn thing. I guess it’ll never be finished, but I digress. Here’s the complete meaning of all (checks list) 35 songs so far! God help me. God help you. This is going to be LONG. These two have made me severely unwell <3 and in light of their relationship being made canon, what the hell! Let's post this now! <3
This playlist is a complete story split into 4 sections: the Golden Age(11 songs), the Commercial Age, (11 songs) The Fallout(6 songs), and Modern Age (7 songs).
Hollywood or Bust is like a grand movie opening, setting the time period (40s) and mood. It’s the golden age of Hollywood, spirits couldn’t get any higher. Everything feels larger than life.
Merry Go Round and Hooray for Hollywood: These bring the focus to the small studio, Termite Terrace. These are self-explanatory. Jeepers Creepers is a nod to the heavy use of pop-jazz songs in Looney Tunes and Merrie Melody shorts, this song being one of them.
No Strings: While the first 4 songs set the mood and act as a prelude, No Strings is technically where the playlist begins. This is Bugs’ introduction as a confident, laid-back, charismatic individual. “So bring on the big attraction/ My decks are cleared for action/ I’m fancy-free/ I’m free for anything fancy.”
Make Em’ Laugh: This is Daffy’s introduction. He’s also in his prime, focused only on bringing happiness to others, leaning into his wackiness. I love the playful sprinkles of cynicism: “Now you could study Shakespeare and be quite elite/ you could charm the critics and have nothing to eat/ just slip on a banana peel, the world’s at your feet/ Make em laugh!“ It suits Daffy completely.
I’m The Greatest Star: Daffy expresses frustration how his talent is overlooked. The entire song embodies his need for the spotlight. While Barbara Streisand's version is great, I originally envisioned Mimi Hine’s WONDERFUL rendition of this song (which I have on my version of the playlist in Apple Music haha). She has a doubly cheeky yet indignant tone that Barbara doesn't deliver. Plus, she does a Daffy Duck impression in the middle of her jokes. Perfect!
Your Mind is on Vacation: Bugs calmly, smoothly putting Daffy in his place. At this point, Daffy’s been dethroned and Bugs is talking down to him, never giving him the opportunity to bounce back by dishing witty remark after remark. “If silence was golden/ you couldn’t raise a dime/ because your mind is on vacation and your mouth is working overtime/ If you don’t like this song I’m singin/ just grin and bear it/ all that I’m saying is if the shoe fits, wear it”
Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better: there are so many versions of this song, but Frank Sinatra versus Jimmy Durante and Garry Moore is so comically wonderful. It’s staged, but also there’s some truth to it– Bugs is in a league of his own, and the other tunes (especially Daffy) now have to follow his lead. Even so, the song ends lightheartedly, reminding the audience that it’s all played up for laughs.
The Curtain Falls is exactly that– the curtains fall and the two bid their audience adieu (with hints of mutual fascination with the other). “They say in showbiz that’s all there is/ there isn’t anymore/ We’ve shared a moment, and as the magic ends/ we’ve got a feeling we’re parting now as friends.”
Creeping feelings+ marching forward in time:
MUAHAHAHA the actual feelings are starting to creep in. While the playlist up to this point functioned as external dialogue, these next few are internal musings.
I get a kick out of you: You can tell this song is Bugs’ because once again, I assigned him a song with a contemporary sound and a singer with rich tones. The lyrics convey playful observation rather than contemplation of the relationship. The subject of the song has a duplicitous role as the object of entertainment and an implied, almost vague source of affection.
I’ve got you under my skin: Daffy’s songs, as you notice, are dramatic, old-fashioned, and relay deeper emotions. Here, he fully recognizes that despite his envy, despite himself, Bugs got under his skin. I love how the song starts out as sweet and romantic as if the singer is eager to confess their love. Yet, the singer is self-aware and is troubled by their own feelings “In spite of the warning that repeats in my ears/ ”don't you know you never can win?/ Use your mentality/ wake up to reality/but each time I do/just the thought of you makes me stop/ before I begin” I absolutely love this rendition. It’s so deceptive– it seems to end sweetly, but surprises its listeners with an overpowering wail (that just FEELS like an “oh no!”) as the Four Seasons repeat “no-no, never win”.
With Frankie Vallie and the Four Seasons, time is finally moving forward. from here onward, songs represent a passing of time by the decade.
(late 50s) You Must Have Been a Beautiful Baby: a song that encapsulates Bugs continuing public adulation. This is also a nod to the use of this song in his shorts. It’s also in this era that the Tunes are forced to modernize– this style reflects the modern, minimalist style of Chuck Jones that would dominate the LT aesthetic.
(early 60s) Money: Looney Tunes struggled to maintain their brand as the theatrical shorts were dying due to the popularity of television, burned-out creatives, and deadly budget cuts. It’s at this time that the Tunes–specifically Bugs and Daffy– become parodies of themselves. In Daffy’s case, his role has reduced to an antagonist, a caricature of selfishness and greed. His shorts during this time period are considered the worst of the entire LT library. They’re very hard to sit through.
(late 60s) Session Man: While this is about a musician, the song describes a famous artist numb to his own profession as he transitions from playing at grand venues like the Albert Hall to sessions in different studios. Animation historians and critics note that Bugs seems like a numb, almost zombified version of himself in his shorts. I wanted this song to reflect Bugs going through the motions. I imagine during the transition to television (and turmoil within Termite Terrace), Bugs numbs himself to cope, leaning into his nonchalant, cool-headed Jones personality, just because it’s easier and he KNOWS he’ll always win. So why try? “Everything comes the same to him/He is a session man/ a chord progression/ a top musician/ he’s not paid to think, just play”
(early 70s) The Stranger: This song is probably the most introspective Bugs will ever be. Even so, the lyrics are vague, almost isolating. Is the singer talking to someone, or himself? There’s a disconnect in the narrative that’s both unsettling and entertaining. He sings at first about the masks everyone puts on to fool the world, but never criticizes his own inauthenticity. In fact, he pleads his audience to sympathize with the stranger “You may never understand/ how the stranger is inspired/ but he isn't always evil/ and he is not always wrong” I think it perfectly explains Bugs’ deceptive tendencies not just as a tool to maintain celebrity, but also a means for survival as a mascot ( a role for which he doesn’t fit). It also explains that, like in real life, Bugs is often misunderstood.
(late 70s) Fame: The 70s were not kind to the tunes. I thought it’d be nice to tie it all in a beautifully regressive bow. Bugs and Daffy can no longer be individuals or entertainers in shorts but are reduced to selling themselves for their brand. “(Fame) it's not your brain, it’s just the flame/ That burns your change to keep you insane/what you get is no tomorrow/what you need you have to borrow (fame)”
(early 80s) Jealousy: The tunes had few opportunities for revival in the 80s (thanks in part to reruns) but were still relegated to merchandise mascots. The only Tune born from this ongoing commercial phenomenon was Bugs’ girlfriend, Honey Bunny, who’d evolve into Lola. I thought it’d be fun to play with Daffy sorting through his jealousy and frustration with no outlet available. “Jealousy, you led me on/ you couldn’t lose, you couldn’t fail/ you had suspicion on my trail” “I wasn’t man enough to let you hurt my pride/ now I’m left with my own jealousy”
(late 80s) Strange Relationship: Continuing the assumption that the characters progressively react and adapt to their time period, the late 80s is Bugs at his most artificial. His appearances (relegated still to mostly advertisements) paint him as egotistical, the face of the company, and too cool to fail. LT property seemed to rely heavily on the cynical side of Bugs and Daffy’s Jonesian dynamic; Daffy is never given a break. Bugs is allowed to mess with Daffy with little consequence. One had to wonder why they were even depicted as friends. As always, this concept is explored through song, which is from Bugs’ perspective. It's icy, taunting, and at one point suggests if the relationship were part of a movie, things would be written differently. OH! also, I like how the second stanza resembles “I get a kick out of you”. “/And I seem to get a kick out of doin ya cold/ baby, I just can’t stand to see you happy / more than that, I hate to see you sad / Honey if you left me I just might do something rash / What’s this strange relationship?”
(90s) Losers: admittedly, I’m having a hard time summing up their relationship in this time period. It’s still very much the disconnected Jonesian relationship, and space jam took their public image to unprecedented levels. Bugs is just as elusive and separated from the tunes, but I feel during this time period Daffy would coquettishly remind him that despite his status, despite their rocky relationship, they’re not so different. “It’s easier to laugh, but something makes you stick around/ you can’t watch from above, and keep your ten toes in the sand” “It’s lonely to be strange, and you would never tell/ that you’re one of those itches, you know it much too well”
The aforementioned song has been a placeholder for the better part of a year, I still feel that there’s a better song to describe the tunes/ B+D’s relationship in this IMPORTANT decade.
(00s) C’mon!: BiA era! We are no longer moody and introspective. Back to light-hearted things! I pulled this song from the same album in BiA’s soundtrack, Junior Senior’s D-Don’t Stop the Beat. (the movie uses two songs from this album, go figure). the lyrics speak for themselves. “You know you drive me crazy, the way you talk and talk and talk/ and I hope it’s gonna work out, and maybe you’ll be mine/Cruisin in my van, just looking for my man, c’mon” In short, it describes a man fed up with his lover who ran away, but willing to travel the world to find them. A wonderful, coincidental parallel with BiA’s plot.
What Do You Want From Me?: SIKE the moodiness isn't over. For those familiar with BiA’s conflict, the shaky writing left their internal issues unresolved. I wanted to continue where Bugs and Daffy left off. This song expands on Daffy’s defeatist attitude and insecurity brought up during the campfire scene. “I’m not the one you need/ What do you want from me?/ You could have anything you want/ You can drift, even dream, even walk on water/ anything you want”
Funny: From here I take full narrative liberty. Muahaha! Daffy’s done being stuck in their modern dynamic, and his modern personality. Martin Smith’s delivery is cynical yet deeply sorrowful, the finality of his lines puts his rendition of “Funny” above all others. This song is Daffy’s eighty years of resentment laid out. “Life double-crosses with style/ forcing you into a smile/ so it can kick you in the teeth/ just desserts/ we can all laugh till it hurts/ at my expense” “I think it’s funny/who could top or make this comic op’ra more compelling?/ you could weave up some deceit to even out the score/ you’d have us all on the floor/ I think it’s roaringly funny”
You’re Driving Me Crazy: What would Bugs do if Daffy actually left without getting the last word? It’d force him out of his cloud of celebrity and face the reality that he’s losing his best friend. Bugs is out of practice when it comes to self-reflection, so the entire song is just good ole- fashion exasperated confusion. “You! You’re driving me crazy!/ What did I do? Whatever did I do?” even bits of the Frank Sinatra biting back fits well “You were the kind who would h-hurt me, desert me when I needed you/ so what did I do?”
Mad about the boy: Despite himself, Daffy misses the energetic conflict their friendship brought. Daffy’s the type to nurture his sadness into bolder expressions akin to “madness” and “insanity” (the funny kind). This song hearkens back to his hidden romanticism, and canonical admiration of Bugs back in their heyday. “Will it ever cloy?/this odd diversity of misery and joy/ I’m feeling quite insane and young again/ and all because I’m mad about the boy”.
I Don’t Know What To Say: Wouldn’t it be perfect that the guy who’s known for his sharp comebacks is speechless? After eighty years, what would Bugs say to finally apologize? He’s hardly the sentimental type… but is sincere when he wants to be. I can easily see him going over the best way to express himself (should it be funny? grand? short?) The Magnetic Fields are a wonderful band for juggling intense self-expression. The floaty acoustics accompany the singer’s indecision while a xylophone adds a playful, almost cartoonish quirk to the garden-like orchestration. “I don’t know what to say/ I could tease and taunt you/ But what would I say?/ I could say I crave you still/ you little brat/ I could rant and rave/ you know I would do that/ I could try and shove you off the nearest cliff/ I could say I love–”
A Song for You: Finally, words are exchanged between these two emotionally constipated cartoons. I don’t have much to say really… the song is self-explanatory (or am I just tired? both probably haha)
It Had To Be You: C’mon, I had to add this jazz standard. I love how melodramatic the opening of this rendition is– kind of like an “oh no!”. I find it romantic that even though they were traditionally drawn as bachelors, mandated to pine after women, and assigned fleeting love interests, they’ve been a magnetic duo ever since the artists of termite terrace decided to pair them together. They’ve remained utterly inseparable despite being the only LT duo never “made for” each other, it’s kinda funny how they ended up the way they are. “Some others I’ve seen/might never be mean/ might never be cross/ or try to be boss/ but they wouldn’t do”.
I Get a Kick Out of You on the Ed Sullivan Show: This one’s self-explanatory. I stumbled across a lovely mashup of Under My Skin and I Get a Kick Out of You by Diana Ross and the Supremes. The faux tap dancing’s a great touch.
Save the Last Dance for Me: Despite them being “together“, they’d be anything but conventional. Besides, Bugs and Daffy are flirtatious, playful toons at heart. It’d be lame if they gave up their penchant for slapstick and catcalling gags. Though, I feel boundaries would be made– they’re exactly that. Just gags and bits for humor. On stage and in the public eye they can carry on normally, but in private they’d be devoted to the other. ”Oh the music’s fine like sparkling wine, go and have your fun/ laugh and sing, but while we’re apart, don’t give your heart to no one.“ How saccharine. lmao
Can’t Buy Me Love: This one’s for the diehard Looney Tunes fans! The tunes did a lot of celebrity album covers between the late 90s and early aughts. Bugs sings this song to Daffy (yes. I’m serious.) in the Looney Tune Beatles cover album. The singer is willing to buy anything to appease their lover but warns that money won’t buy their love. I don’t even need to write any analysis. Warner Bros. made the food for me already.
I’ll Be There: the line “I’ll be there to protect you/ With an unselfish love that respects you” is a sentiment I believe a more emotionally open Bugs would convey. While he respects Daffy as a friend and partner, he's had a historically constipated way of expressing it. Telling the words Daffy’s so desperately wanted to hear would earn his loyalty for like, EVER. no more getting fired or walking out the studio, no sirree.
What I wouldn’t Do for That Man: ok, this is SUCH a gem of a song. It’s so rare to find an old romantic song sung by the perspective of a man without altering genders to fit a heteromantic perspective! There’s so many good picks from this album fr. But I ultimately chose this song in particular bc of these lyrics “He’s not an angel or saint/ what’s the odds if he ain’t?/ with all his faults, I know we’ll get by” this is just a song for BOTH of them lmao. They’re such handfuls, yet they’d do anything for each other.
Tea For Two: This is one of my favorites on this playlist! Bugs and Daffy danced to this song in Showbiz Bugs and in my heart, this is Their Song. God, I wish I could get my hands on a recording of the short’s rendition of this jazz standard <3 I chose this version bc it’s sung by the absolute queen Sarah Vaughan, but instrumentalized to a modern sound that serves to elevate Sarah’s timeless delivery. I feel it encapsulates Baffy’s current relationship perfectly. Sure, they can adapt to the times, but they’ll stay true to themselves. They’ll always be old souls.
Swing Both Ways: While listening to this song, I easily picture them performing this as a duet in the style of a classical Broadway performance. All these songs about introspection? all that drama? Out the window. Yes, this was one hell of an emotional journey, but it’s Looney Tunes! These are two immortal mascots–no, toons– of an entertainment conglomerate, There is no other way to approach their relationship than playful! It’s Bugs and Daffy, things have to be spectacular, cheeky, exaggerated and glamourous!
WOW we made it to the end. Thanks for this question, and to those who managed to read this uber long playlist, I commend you. Merry Canon Baffy everyone. Happy listening!
#looney tunes#baffy#bugs and daffy#bugs bunny#daffy duck#you sittin there yakkin (talk tag)#isn’t that lovely? (ask tag)#online shopping to fill a void (analysis)#oh my god im so tired i need to sit down uuhghghghgh
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hiiii<3 numbers 11, 22 and 38 for your ask game! 🫶✨
hellooo raquel thanks so much!! 💙🫶
already did 11! also 22 is one of my favorite numbers eheh
for 22:
streetlight (changbin) - stray kids
sagavaasi - arivu, khatija rahman
all things end - hozier
behind the light - stray kids
car crash - eaj
stay - rihanna, mikky ekko
let go - beau young prince
get up - terrell hines, vince staples
what i did for love - grace jones
via del campo - fabrizio de andré
lalalala (rock ver.) - stray kids
i can't stand the rain - tina turner
for 38:
creepin' - metro boomin, the weeknd, 21 savage
broken - seether, amy lee
(no song, playlist only has 30, i'll give you 30!) beat it - akintoye
sweet sorrow of mother - bibi
fun! - vince staples
moby dick - led zeppelin
no.1 - boa
(no song, playlist only has 35, i'll give you 35!) la donna cannone - francesco de gregori
sleep paralysis - nova twins
lonely st. - stray kids
conceited - flo milli
creep - arlo parks
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Leo was from a long time ago, the first one I ever saw nude. In the spring before the Hellmans filled their pool, we’d go down there in the deep end, with baby oil, and like that. I met him the first month away at boarding school. He had a halo from the campus light behind him. I flipped.
Roger was fast. In his illegal car, we drove to the reservoir, the radio blaring, talking fast, fast, fast. He was always going for my zipper. He got kicked out sophomore year.
By the time the band got around to playing “Wild Horses,” I had tasted Bruce’s tongue. We were clicking in the shadows on the other side of the amplifier, out of Mrs. Donovan’s line of vision. It tasted like salt, with my neck bent back, because we had been dancing so hard before.
Tim’s line: “I’d like to see you in a bathing suit.” I knew it was his line when he said the exact same thing to Annie Hines.
You’d go on walks to get off campus. It was raining like hell, my sweater as sopped as a wet sheep. Tim pinned me to a tree, the woods light brown and dark brown, a white house half hidden with the lights already on. The water was as loud as a crowd hissing. He made certain comments about my forehead, about my cheeks.
We started off sitting at one end of the couch and then our feet were squished against the armrest and then he went over to turn off the TV and came back after he had taken off his shirt and then we slid onto the floor and he got up again to close the door, then came back to me, a body waiting on the rug.
You’d try to wipe off the table or to do the dishes and Willie would untuck your shirt and get his hands up under in front, standing behind you, making puffy noises in your ear.
He likes it when I wash my hair. He covers his face with it and if I start to say something, he goes, “Shush.”
For a long time, I had Philip on the brain. The less they noticed you, the more you got them on the brain.
My parents had no idea. Parents never really know what’s going on, especially when you’re away at school most of the time. If she met them, my mother might say, “Oliver seems nice” or “I like that one” without much of an opinion. If she didn’t like them, “He’s a funny fellow, isn’t he?” or “Johnny’s perfectly nice but a drink of water.” My father was too shy to talk to them at all unless they played sports and he’d ask them about that.
The sand was almost cold underneath because the sun was long gone. Eben piled a mound over my feet, patting around my ankles, the ghostly surf rumbling behind him in the dark. He was the first person I ever knew who died, later that summer, in a car crash.
I thought about it for a long time.
“Come here,” he says on the porch.
I go over to the hammock and he takes my wrist with two fingers. “What?”
He kisses my palm then directs my hand to his fly.
Songs went with whichever boy it was. “Sugar Magnolia” was Tim, with the line, “Rolling in the rushes/down by the riverside.” With “Darkness Darkness,” I’d picture Philip with his long hair. Hearing “Under My Thumb” there’d be the smell of Jamie’s suede jacket.
We hid in the listening rooms during study hall. With a record cover over the door’s window, the teacher on duty couldn’t look in. I came out flushed and heady and back at the dorm was surprised how red my lips were in the mirror.
One weekend at Simon’s brother’s, we stayed inside all day with the shades down, in bed, then went out to Store 24 to get some ice cream. He stood at the magazine rack and read through MAD while I got butterscotch sauce, craving something sweet.
I could do some things well. Some things I was good at, like math or painting or even sports, but the second a boy put his arm around me, I forgot about wanting to do anything else, which felt like a relief at first until it became like sinking into a muck.
It was different for a girl.
When we were little, the brothers next door tied up our ankles. They held the door of the goat house and wouldn’t let us out till we showed them our underpants. Then they’d forget about being after us and when we played whiffle ball, I’d be just as good as they were.
Then it got to be different. Just because you have on a short skirt, they yell from the cars, slowing down for a while, and if you don’t look, they screech off and call you a bitch.
“What’s the matter with me?” they say, point-blank.
Or else, “Why won’t you go out with me? I’m not asking you to get married,” about to
get mad.
Or it’d be, trying to be reasonable, in a regular voice, “Listen, I just want to have a
good time.”
So I’d go because I couldn’t think of something to say back that wouldn’t be obvious,
and if you go out with them, you sort of have to do something.
I sat between Mac and Eddie in the front seat of the pickup. They were having a fight about something. I’ve a feeling about me.
Certain nights you’d feel a certain surrender, maybe if you’d had wine. The surrender would be forgetting yourself and you’d put your nose to his neck and feel like a squirrel, safe, at rest, in a restful dream. But then you’d start to slip from that and the dark would come in and there’d be a cave. You make out the dim shape of the windows and feel yourself become a cave, filled absolutely with air, or with a sadness that wouldn’t stop.
Teenage years. You know just what you’re doing and don’t see the things that start to get in the way.
Lots of boys, but never two at the same time. One was plenty to keep you in a state. You’d start to see a boy and something would rush over you like a fast storm cloud and you couldn’t possibly think of anyone else. Boys took it differently. Their eyes perked up at any little number that walked by. You’d act like you weren’t noticing.
The joke was that the school doctor gave out the pill like aspirin. He didn’t ask you anything. I was fifteen. We had a picture of him in assembly, holding up an IUD shaped like a T. Most girls were on the pill, if anything, because they couldn’t handle a diaphragm. I kept the dial in my top drawer like my mother and thought of her each time I tipped out the yellow tablets in the morning before chapel.
If they were too shy, I’d be more so. Andrew was nervous. We stayed up with his family album, sharing a pack of Old Golds. Before it got light, we turned on the TV. A man was explaining how to plant seedlings. His mouth jerked to the side in a tic. Andrew thought it was a riot and kept imitating him. I laughed to be polite. When we finally dozed off, he dared to put his arm around me, but that was it.
You wait till they come to you. With half fright, half swagger, they stand one step down. They dare to touch the button on your coat then lose their nerve and quickly drop their hand so you—you’d do anything for them. You touch their cheek.
The girls sit around in the common room and talk about boys, smoking their heads off. “What are you complaining about?” says Jill to me when we talk about problems. “Yeah,” says Giddy. “You always have a boyfriend.”
I look at them and think, As if.
I thought the worst thing anyone could call you was a cock-teaser. So, if you flirted, you had to be prepared to go through with it. Sleeping with someone was perfectly normal once you had done it. You didn’t really worry about it. But there were other problems. The problems had to do with something else entirely.
Mack was during the hottest summer ever recorded. We were renting a house on an island with all sorts of other people. No one slept during the heat wave, walking around the house with nothing on which we were used to because of the nude beach. In the living room, Eddie lay on top of a coffee table to cool off. Mack and I, with the bedroom door open for air, sweated and sweated all night.
“I can’t take this,” he said at 3 A.M. “I’m going for a swim.” He and some guys down the hall went to the beach. The heat put me on edge. I sat on a cracked chest by the open window and smoked and smoked till I felt even worse, waiting for something—I guess for him to get back.
One was on a camping trip in Colorado. We zipped our sleeping bags together, the coyotes’ hysterical chatter far away. Other couples murmured in other tents. Paul was up before sunrise, starting a fire for breakfast. He wasn’t much of a talker in the daytime. At night, his hand leafed about in the hair at my neck.
There’d be times when you overdid it. You’d get carried away. All the next day, you’d be in a total fog, delirious, absent-minded, crossing the street and nearly getting run over.
The more girls a boy has, the better. He has a bright look, having reaped fruits, blooming. He stalks around, sure-shouldered, and you have the feeling he’s got more in him, a fatter heart, more stories to tell. For a girl, with each boy it’s as though a petal gets plucked each time.
Then you start to get tired. You begin to feel diluted, like watered-down stew.
Oliver came skiing with us. We lolled by the fire after everyone had gone to bed. Each creak you’d think was someone coming downstairs. The silver loop bracelet he gave me had been a present from his girlfriend before.
On vacations, we went skiing, or you’d go south if someone invited you. Some people had apartments in New York that their families hardly ever used. Or summer houses, or older sisters. We always managed to find someplace to go.
We made the plan at coffee hour. Simon snuck out and met me at Main Gate after lights out. We crept to the chapel and spent the night in the balcony. He tasted like onions from a submarine sandwich.
The boys are one of two ways: either they can’t sit still or they don’t move. In front of the TV, they won’t budge. On weekends they play touch football while we sit on the sidelines, picking blades of grass to chew on and watch. We’re always watching them run around. We shiver in the stands, knocking our boots together to keep our toes warm, and they whizz across the ice, chopping their sticks around the puck. When they’re in the rink, they refuse to look at you, only eyeing each other beneath low helmets. You cheer for them but they don’t look up, even if it’s a face-off when nothing’s happening, even if they’re doing drills before any game has started at all.
Dancing under the pink tent, he bent down and whispered in my ear. We slipped away to the lawn on the other side of the hedge. Much later, as he was leaving the buffet with two plates of eggs and sausage, I saw the grass stains on the knees of his white pants.
Tim’s was shaped like a banana, with a graceful curve to it. They’re all different. Willie’s like a bunch of walnuts when nothing was happening, another’s as thin as a thin hot dog. But it’s like faces; you’re never really surprised.
Still, you’re not sure what to expect.
I look into his face and he looks back. I look into his eyes and they look back at mine. Then they look down at my mouth so I look up at his mouth, then back to his eyes then, backing up, at his whole face. I think, Who? Who are you? His head tilts to one side.
I say, “Who are you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing.”
I look at his eyes again, deeper. Can’t tell who he is, what he thinks. “What?” he says. I look at his mouth.
“I’m just wondering,” I say and go wandering across his face. Study the chin line. It’s shaped like a persimmon.
“Who are you? What are you thinking?”
He says, “What the hell are you talking about?”
Then they get mad after, when you say enough is enough. After, when it’s easier to explain you don’t want to. You wouldn’t dream of saying that maybe you weren’t really ready to in the first place.
Gentle Eddie. We waded into the sea, the waves round and plowing in, buffalo-headed, slapping our thighs. I put my arms around his freckled shoulders and he held me up, buoyed by the water, and rocked me like a sea shell.
I had no idea whose party it was, the apartment jam-packed, stepping over people in the hallway. The room with the music was practically empty, the bare floor, me in red shoes. This fellow slides one knee and takes me around the waist and we rock to jazzy tunes, with my toes pointing heavenward, and waltz and spin and drip to “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” or “I’ll Love You Just For Now.” He puts his head to my chest, runs a sweeping hand down my inside thigh and we go loose-limbed and sultry and smooth as silk and I stamp my red heels and he takes me in a swoon. I never saw him again after that but I thought, I could have loved that one.
You wonder how long you can keep it up. You begin to feel as if you’re showing through, like a bathroom window that only lets in grey light, the kind you can’t see out of.
They keep coming around. Johnny drives up at Easter vacation from Baltimore and I let him in the kitchen with everyone sound asleep. He has friends waiting in the car.
“What are you, crazy? It’s pouring out there,” I say.
“It’s okay,” he says. “They understand.”
So he gets some long kisses from me, against the refrigerator, before he goes home
because I hate those girls who push away a boy’s face as if she were made out of Ivory soap, as if she’s that much greater than he is.
The note on my cubby told me to see the headmaster. I had no idea for what. He had received complaints about my amorous displays on the town green. It was Willie that spring. The headmaster told me he didn’t care what I did but that Casey Academy had a reputation to uphold in the town. He lowered his glasses on his nose. “We’ve got twenty acres of wood on this campus,” he said. “If you want to smooch with your boyfriend, there are twenty acres for you to do it out of the public eye. You read me?”
Everybody’d get weekend permissions for different places, then we’d all go to someone’s house whose parents were away. Usually there’d be more boys than girls. We raided the liquor closet and smoked pot at the kitchen table and you’d never know who would end up where, or with whom. There were always disasters. Ceci got bombed and cracked her head open on the banister and needed stitches. Then there was the time when Wendel Blair walked through the picture window at the Lowes’ and got slashed to ribbons.
He scared me. In bed, I didn’t dare look at him. I lay back with my eyes closed, luxuriating because he knew all sorts of expert angles, his hands never fumbling, going over my whole body, pressing the hair up and off the back of my head, giving an extra hip shove, as if to say There. I parted my eyes slightly, keeping the screen of my lashes low because it was too much to look at him, his mouth loose and pink and parted, his eyes looking through my forehead, or kneeling up, looking through my throat. I was ashamed but couldn’t look him in the eye.
You wonder about things feeling a little off-kilter. You begin to feel like a piece of pounded veal.
At boarding school, everyone gets depressed. We go in and see the housemother, Mrs. Gunther. She got married when she was eighteen. Mr. Gunther was her high school sweetheart, the only boyfriend she ever had.
“And you knew you wanted to marry him right off?” we ask her.
She smiles and says, “Yes.”
“They always want something from you,” says Jill, complaining about her boyfriend. “Yeah,” says Giddy. “You always feel like you have to deliver something.”
“You do,” says Mrs. Gunther. “Babies.”
After sex, you curl up like a shrimp, something deep inside you ruined, slammed in a place that sickens at slamming, and slowly you fill up with an overwhelming sadness, an elusive gaping worry. You don’t try to explain it, filled with the knowledge that it’s nothing after all, everything filling up finally and absolutely with death. After the briskness of loving, loving stops. And you roll over with death stretched out alongside you like a feather boa, or a snake, light as air, and you... you don’t even ask for anything or try to say something to him because it’s obviously your own damn fault. You haven’t been able to—to what? To open your heart. You open your legs but can’t, or don’t dare anymore, to open your heart.
It starts this way:
You stare into their eyes. They flash like all the stars are out. They look at you
seriously, their eyes at a low burn and their hands no matter what starting off shy and with such a gentle touch that the only thing you can do is take that tenderness and let yourself be swept away. When, with one attentive finger they tuck the hair behind your ear, you—
You do everything they want.
Then comes after. After when they don’t look at you. They scratch their balls, stare at the ceiling. Or if they do turn, their gaze is altogether changed. They are surprised. They turn casually to look at you, distracted, and get a mild distracted surprise. You’re gone. Their blank look tells you that the girl they were fucking is not there anymore. You seem to have disappeared.
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Outline
Locating your creative practise, finding your creative voice.
Design Artefacts:
Outcomes/delivarbles:
Formative - Map
Summative - essay - presented in a A2 format
IN CLASS TASKS
Reflecting on the projects we saw in our morning lectures, discuss either the Matariki posters or the student projects on the plastic.
What did you like about it?
The ideas
I really enjoyed watching the student work behind the plastic as even though I’m from a completely different background I know my friends who have told me different stories on them being ashamed about calling themselves samoan as they feel plastic cause they can't speak their native language. I really liked how instead of keeping it just typography based or picture based they decided to use images of the people who were referred to as “plastic.” I also really like the idea on how they let each person who was photographed to be able to draw and freely express how the word “plastic” made them feel. I also thought it was interesting reading the survey responses and how it related on a much deeper level to the people of the Pacifica community as they left their personal stories and experiences to a question that required a yes/no answer.
5 sentences - “Where I am from”
My feet touch the pebbles to see my whanau as I smell the barbeque.
The green trees with the sound of the gusting wind is where I’m from as I take a bite from nanny’s cooking.
My reflection in my whanau’s sacrifice shows me where I’m from.
The colourful vibrant sweets on my table bring a sense of my whanau’s reflection.
The dust in my eyes as I chase after the dogs is where I’m from.
Reflection
Sweets - signifying my cultural sweets (barfi)
Sacrifice - Immigrating
Gusting wing - Change
Dust - Location
Who are the designers, illustrators or organisations in Aotearoa or worldwide who influence you?
Alistair McCready (Typography based designer)
Rupi Kaur (Poet)
Voices of hope (Mental health charity affirmations)
Fahmeed (Works with big artists and makes animations)
What do you value as a creative?
Cultural movement (Specifically Punjabi Sikh)
Mental Health
Feminism
Te Toi o Mangahekea, 2023
by tā moko and public installation artist Graham Tipene (Ngāti Whātua, Ngāti Kahu, Ngāti Hine, Ngāti Hauā, Ngāti Manu)
I can engage my curiosity on this by visiting this art gallery in person as this piece is outside AUT. I can go on their website and read the online website about it and the story to Graham Tipene’s thought process in designing this and what it actually means.
The values they bring into the work are
Inclusivity
Individualism
Passion
The design communities emerging from this piece are collectively from the Maori culture itself or people who didn’t know about their own native tongue but are relating to this piece on visually understanding more about their own homeland, as well as the diversed community surrounding this piece in New Zealand who have yet to start learning about it.
What excites me is how patterns can have such a deep meaning as well as the repetition in this particular piece and that it was outside the art gallery where I’m always walking past and there's no text to explain anything so that’s when you feel curious on wanting to know more to gain a better understanding.
The Creative
I am doing the creative practise and underpinning research and this can be approaching my work from different angles everyday and finding different solutions and problems to be working with, so I’m always staying curious and learning different ways of designing it.
I’m a designer who loves doing illustrations and working with type, if I ever get the chance to showcase my culture I love shining the light on it as everyday I learn more about it, and I feel like knowing my native language brings me closer to myself.
The influences on me as a designer come from many people, old traditions and stories within my own culture, influences with my peers in class and seeing the design directions where their work comes from, online research on worldwide people but mostly I like to choose categories of certain types of designs that I can intimately relate to.
I can unpack design ideologues by noting everything I've seen and what I want to believe in and what makes those designs visually relatable to me. It wouldn’t be my individual design piece if I never believed in it.
I can however expand my visual vocabulary by understanding the environmental, social, cultural and political context of my design influences as it’s not a trend and an ongoing discussion which can somehow correlate into my own work. I can always have another route by learning this way as I can explore and see how I respond to those pieces of work. I'll never know if I stick to the same comfort zone.
I value
Key themes, ideas and conversations in my work
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Reduced Water Pressure Is Really A Larger Plumbing Problem
square pipe let the software run in the background and do other things. Remember "autopilot?" So what the hho booster takes every single and a half to send out 1000 friend requests? I am doing something else while software program is doing the job.
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We have to some in the pros and cons betwixt the . There is pounds difference, which quite observable. A solid state unit weighs considerably under the tube amp, rendering it it significantly more easy to transport from gig to position. Especially if include to lug it around yourself together getting on in your years.
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Both ATS-34 and 154-CM are practically identical steels and they are used for pocket knives and fixed blade blades. 154-CM was designed by Crucible Material Corporation for that blades in jet turbine engines. Today, steel manufacturers are still making caliber 154-CM steel and moment has come very popular steel for knife mower blades. ATS-34 is also extremely popular steel utilized with the manufacturing of knife blades. Is a metal that is formed by Hitachi in The japanese. Both ATS-34 and 154-CM hold a capable edge and are very hard and very tough. These not as rust resistant as other steels market, they are are still very popular types of steel for high-end kitchen knives. lsaw welding pipe are made after a combination of carbon, chromium, and molybdenum and were developed for tough industrial applications.
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Setting Plants Out Early Using A Wall O' Water
Conclusion You can see.I am a fan of both 2 into Harley pipes and the Vance and Hines Pro Pipe can be an outstanding style of one associated with those pipes. Gives one on the nicest fits and finishes available on a manufacturer you can trust to support their products.
pre galvanized pipe has been developed help to make it the tube even handier and provide action that no one thought easy. This jig utilizes a gumball jig head and a tube mounted "backwards" so that your skirt with the tube is pressed against the head from the jig. This orientation forces the skirt out for a flared appearance and gives the "legs" lots of space to steer while is actually also retrieved. Take the hook out either the final or side depending on their own length for this shank. Intention is to help keep the body of the tube parallel with ought to shank consequently can be retrieved smoothly. The collar of the tube will contain the body of your tube responsible so no slide to off.
Presta valves are long, skinny and also a locking nut on the top of them. The locking nut on the top of a presta valve prevents accidental depression of the core which could release the air in your tire. Unfortunately, presta valves also here is a special pump that fits over the valve lead.
Once own located the frozen segments, and before you start thawing the pipe, make sure to turn amazing water at the main. Should the pipe has already burst, turning off normal water will prevent flooding once it has sufficiently warmed to restore flow. In the same time, be sure to open the faucet of the pipe an individual thawing. It is deemed an important step because during the thawing process gases can released, and may cause a surge if include nowhere to be able to. Watching for water to start dripping away from the open spicket will lets you monitor how well you're progressing.
Consider using PVC for your body - 8" PVC pipe has an outer diameter of ten.625" which is perfect for Wing Chun dummy (8.5-9.5" diameter will be the acceptable range). Some people may initially complain about using plastic instead of wood, however the plastic is solely as hard, exactly the ideal size and shape, and significantly to be able to work for. Cutting square holes into PVC pipe takes time. Cutting square holes inside solid joint of 8.5" diameter wood takes forever, specially if you're not accustomed to working with wood. And PVC significantly cheaper, additionally.
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Visualize portray this condition . of the top product. Get the pencil and outline be very sure in the wood. Obtain galvanized square tube and use it to decrease or dump the rotting matter excess a part of the real wood. To avoid experiencing hassles, make confident that you follow the outline carefully when you cut the wood. Draw a circle at for making part for the pipe. Draft another circle in the 1st circle. These illustrations are important since the figures behaves as the guide producing the hollow portion of the pipe.
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Magical winter lights
Getting in touch: VoyageHouston is built on recommendations from the community it’s how we uncover hidden gems, so if you know someone who deserves recognition please let us know here. It is very important to us to create an experience worth sharing. The success of Magical Winter Lights comes from our visitors’ experiences and their willingness to share our event with their friends and families. Every year, 150 artists and builders work together to create an enchanting journey through more than 100 authentic lantern sets reminiscent of landmarks of the world, skylines of. What is “success” or “successful” for you? The 2017 Magical Winter Lights will take place from NovemJanuat Gulf Greyhound Park in the Greater Houston area. Magical Winter Lights (MWL) is a two month annual holiday celebration featuring larger-than-life lantern masterpieces developed from Chinese lantern-making techniques. Champion of the Great Christmas Light Fight on the ABC network Largest holiday lighting attraction. We are bringing something very unique and creating an inclusive event for Houston’s diverse residents. 95,565 likes 7,994 talking about this 96,660 were here. Chinese lanterns of this kind have never made an appearance in Houston. What sets Magical Winter Lights apart is the diversity of the attraction. We are very proud to be somewhere families want to bring their relatives to when they visit for the holidays. Magical Winter Lights has become an annual tradition for many families in three short years. Magical Winter Lights – what should we know? What do you guys do best? What sets you apart from the competition? Hines Waterwall and “HOUSTON” cut outs for Houstonians to show off their Houston pride! Houston is Magical Winter Lights’ home so you will see Houston favorites like the Gerald D. This year, we added two exciting new sections: Santa’s Christmas Village and The Lone Star State. As a relatively new event to the Houston holiday scene, it is important to us that we create an annual event worthy of becoming Houstonians favorite holiday tradition. Year after year Magical Winter Lights gains more following. Magical Winter Lights is back for the 2021 holiday season Begin your enchanted journey to tour more than 100 individual lantern sets in eight unique. Overall, has it been relatively smooth? If not, what were some of the struggles along the way? The larger-than-life lanterns are accompanied by live entertainment, carnival rides and games, a food court, nightly performances, and many other forms of family entertainment for all ages. The 2017 Magical Winter Lights Houston has seven lantern sections including: Magical Wonderland, Mystical Forest, Landmarks of the World, The Lone Star State, Santa’s Christmas Village, Dinosaur Land and Mystery of the East. This 50-day festival brings a fresh, multicultural take on holiday light shows with Texas-sized Chinese lantern sets that display bright and colorful imaginative designs. Magical Winter Lights is a holiday festival and the largest lantern festival in the United States. So, before we jump into specific questions about the business, why don’t you give us some details about you and your story. I need to know the ticket prices to send out the literature for our trip.Today we’d like to introduce you to Chelsea Atkinson.Marlene Lopez on October 2017: Events You Shouldn’t Miss.RuPaul’s Secret Celebrity Drag Race (VH1) Season 2 Episode 4.RuPaul’s Secret Celebrity Drag Race (VH1) Season 2 Episode 5.
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Magick/Witchcraft Tips
I've been practicing magick for a bit now, and here are some tips I've learned from experience, others, etc. I hope they're helpful to someone.
Designing Rituals - When you design rituals, they don't actually have to have any classical correspondences in them. You could choose to invoke The Flash, and then charge a sigil by playing Injustice, for example, and it works. You can use whatever symbolism, pantheons, fictional characters, and so on, that work to get you the beliefs, emotions, and meaning you need to feel for your magick. Many people may find they can invoke Superman and his qualities, easier than they can invoke, say, Sol Invictus.
Write Your Magick - Write down what you intend to do, what you are going to do, what ingredients you (will/would) use. When you write down your intentions, you are already in the process of manifesting them. Lighting a candle, some incense/essential oil diffuser/keeping charged crystals nearby, and/or taking a ritual cleansing bath beforehand all help to get you into a magical mindset.
Magical Consciousness - This is a concept I first read about in books by the chaos magician Phil Hine, and also by comic artist and chaos magician Grant Morrison, and just the "everyday magic" vibe that people talk about. This is about looking at everything as magick. Everything as inherently programmable with your intent and meaning, and look at everything that happens in the context of magical symbolism or significance. Let your reality become magical.
Substitutions - When you look at spell ingredient lists, feel free to substitute ingredients for other ingredients. some common substitutions include clear quartz being able to replace any other crystal, rosemary being able to substitute any herb, and so on. I've used mowed grass and twigs before, and random stones that I told myself were gems through a process like transubstantiation. This brings us to...
Visualize Your Magick - Everything you do, visualize casting the spell, and getting results, before you cast, while you cast, and after you cast. If you don't have certain ingredients, simply visualize that you do. Cut out pieces of paper and write names of gemstones, herbs, oils, or any other components you want but don't have, to keep in a manifestation box, or satchets. If you can get them someday, you will, if not, you can even skip the physical representation step, and you can even just fully imagine having them, which brings us to...
You in Wonderland - This is a concept that has also been referred to as the "astral temple" by some. Wonderland mostly comes as a reference to the classic story by Lewis Carroll, and some terminology in the tulpamancy community. Essentially, this is a place that you build in meditation and visualization over time, and go back to to perform magick, meditate, commune with spirits, and so on. Anything you can physically do, you also do mentally and spiritually in your wonderland/astral temple. Any gesture, any words, any ingredients, any motions, can all be performed, or utilized, completely in your imagination.
Belief is a Tool - As long as you keep your belief system worked out, and fully invest yourself in it, for the duration of your casting, you will get results. Magick doesn't need to be believed in to work, but you'll get better results if you can truly have yourself believe what you are doing will work, especially during the experience of the actual ritual/casting. Believing in the magick after casting simply requires waiting confidently for results to manifest from synchronicity, deity/deities, the universe, etc.
Clear Quartz, Salt, and Water - All of these things are essentially blank slates energetically, after they've been cleansed. Clear quartz crystal can be programmed with any intent, using the will, so clear quartz can substitute for any crystal, and carrying charged quartz just on its own works well. Water has been scientifically proven to have memory, and have molecular structure changed by certain words, or thoughts, being spoken to/thought at it. Look up images of water crystals, after the water has been exposed to loving, or hateful, language. Drink the water that has been blessed, "gift" the water that has been hexed, use positive water on your plants, etc. Salt can also be used as a programmable crystal, helps to channel, and also helps ground any negativity that might be in your casting.
This will probably do for now. My last tip is to just keep your mind open in magick, and look around you for anything that can be used, and realize that... anything can be used. Good luck, have fun. 🖖
#magick#witchcraft#witchblr#chaos magick#witch tips#witchcraft tips#magick tips#in my experience#rituals#writing#substitutions#wonderland#astral temple#belief is a tool#clear quartz#clear quartz uses#salt#salt uses#water#water magick#water has memory
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The Drought
A/N: Hello again! So, trying to get back into the swing of things so I searched for some fic prompts and came across this one! Prompt at the end. Feel free to drop prompts into my ask! I'd love to write more!
Here’s what’s frustrating: out of the entire Atlantis expedition, approximately three quarters of them are ATA gene carriers, all thanks to Carson’s finely tuned gene therapy. Awesome. Great.
They now have an entire plethora of people to pick from for ‘light bulb duty’ down in the ancient labs, but the problem is, while there are plenty of people to choose from now, Atlantis and her ancient tech just refuses to work for anyone as well as she works for John fucking Sheppard.
It’s infuriating, honestly, but Rodney supposes he shouldn’t be surprised. After all, Captain Kirk has managed to practically sleep his way across the Pegasus Galaxy and if Atlantis was a person, of course she would be a she, so of course she would line up with the rest of hussies and--.
Hmph.
Maybe it’s John that’s the hussy.
Lieutenant Colonel Hussy.
Okay, that’s almost funny.
“What are we doin’ here again?” Sheppard asks in that nasally, whiny voice he has and it brings Rodney back to the present where they’re currently testing out what very well could be the galaxy’s version of a blood sugar monitor but it only wants to work with John.
“I want you to put your finger under the little…. Thing there and think it on,” Rodney says, like it’s the most self-explanatory thing in the world. The duhis left unsaid but it’s there, hanging in the air. He’s also trying very hard not to think about where else he might like Sheppard to put his finger and--
“Why?”
It’s infuriating, not only that John Sheppard is the only one that Atlantis responds so easily to, but that he doesn’t even seem to care. Rodney can feel the tips of his ears go red at the annoyance, but there’s that almost smug smile that touches Sheppard’s lips and God, he’s so annoying.
And handsome.
And smart (not as smart as Rodney of course, but then--)
Right.
Ancient tech.
“It’s not working,” John intones and Rodney frowns down at the tablet.
“Well, you aren’t trying hard enough.”
“Trying hard enough at what? I’m doing exactly what you said, Rodney.”
“Think harder then.”
“Can’t we just try something else? Somethin’ cool?” And John honest to God whines and Christ, why is this Rodney’s life?
“I just need you to think it on, Colonel,” Rodney snips mostly because they’ve been down here in this lab for the last hour or so and it’s just a couple of them and for the last fifty eight minutes and thirty two seconds, Rodney has been acutely aware of just how close Sheppard is sitting to where he’s working and he just wants to be done.
John sighs and screws his eyes shut for all of three seconds before he opens one slowly, glancing down at the machine.
Nothing.
“I don’t wanna say I toldja so, but--.”
“Not another word,” Rodney huffs and he drops the tablet onto the table, lifting a hand to massage his temples. He’s over this. He’s really, really over this and when he glances up at Sheppard to dismiss him, he’s slightly embarrassed to find the Colonel already looking at him, an unreadable look on his face. “I guess that’s it then,” he says, and he sounds annoyed. “We’re done for the day.”
“Well, I guess I’ll see ya later then,” John says, standing from his stool and waving lazily at the crew before he slouches out of the lab, Rodney looking after him as he does.
It takes all of two seconds before Zelenka speaks up. “Ahem,” he says, feigning clearing his throat. “Perhaps you would like it if I got you a glass of water?”
“Not near the ancient tech,” Rodney answers automatically before he realizes exactly what Radek said. “What?”
“Clearly, you are incredibly thirsty.”
It’s not just Rodney’s ears that go pink this time, but his cheeks burn too. “I have no idea—”
“Oh please,” Radek smirks. “The tech works just as well for any other gene carrier here on Atlantis, you know that. We all know you just pretend it doesn’t to give you an excuse to get Sheppard down here and ogle him for an hour.”
“First of all, there is no ogling anyone here and second of all, you knowthe city responds best to him! We can’t all be natural gene carriers with the stupid hair and that stupid slouch and--.”
“Relax, Rodney,” Radek says and he’s still teasing but maybe there’s something else there too. “For what it is worth, Miko, Simpson and myself believe that the Colonel is just as… parched.”
“Wait, wait, wait, you’re saying—No, no. You’re wrong. It’s not possible.”
Radek shrugs. “If you say so.” He’s content to let it go and go back to work, and Rodney thinks it really sucks that Zelenka would put such a thought in his head and then just goes back to pretending he hasn’t completely melted Rodney’s brain.
Well, what the hell is he supposed to do about this now?
He gives it a few days, lets himself ruminate on it and he’s still pretty certain that Radek is full of it.
But then they’re back to the labs, Sheppard back on lightbulb duty, except this time they’re alone and Rodney cannot… well, he can’t quite look away from the Colonel, no matter how hard he tries. Not even when the blood sugar monitor turns on at the slightest thought from Sheppard and--.
“Rodney? Something on your mind, pal?”
“No,” Rodney answers, perhaps just a little too quickly, eyes snapping down to the tablet in his hand as he catalogs the response the tech is giving John. “Why?” Because he can’t leave well enough alone. “IS there something on yourmind?”
John’s response is just as defensive, an emphatic no, and Rodney knewthat Radek was full of shit, that little--.
There’s a shrill alarm that sounds for a fraction of a second before the sprinklersthat Rodney didn’t even know existed come on, immediately soaking them both.
John curses and stands up from the stool quickly and Rodney very nearly slips in an attempt to get the tablet out of the water, only managing to keep from busting his ass when John reaches for him and suddenly, they’re standing there so close and--.
Thirsty.
Yes, perhaps he is.
“Sheppard, I--.”
He doesn’t get a chance to say what he is when John leans forward and crushes their lips together and oh.
Oh.
This is… this is nice. He relaxes against it, perhaps leaning into it a bit more than he means to and it seems to continue for an eternity before John finally, perhaps reluctantly, pulls away.
“Didn’t think you’d ever get with the program, Rodney,” John mutters and he looks a little embarrassed but a lot proud of himself and--. “Sorry it took so long to get the tech workin’,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck and Rodney realizes he should probably figure out how to turn the sprinklers off, but he’s a little dumbstruck right now, to be frank. “I was hopin’ that if we had to try again, no one else would be here so I could--. Well. So I could see if you were maybe just as dehydrated as I am.”
Sonofabitch.
Zelenka was right.
“Absolutely bone dry.”
“Well,” Sheppard says, and there’s a hint of an almost devious smile touching his lips. “Let’s see what we can do about quenching that, huh?”
Definitely Lieutenant Colonel Hussy.
But this time, Rodney’s more than okay with it.
Your prompt: Person B staring admiringly at Person A from across the room. A friend whispers into Person B's ear: 'Why are you so thirsty?'
#sga fic#mcshep#ship: mcshep#rodney mckay#john shepprd#atlantis ships it#prompt fic#stargate atlantis#sga#first kiss#pining john#oblivious rodney
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End of the Year Reading Tag
I was wondering if something like this was going around! Thank you @ninja-muse for tagging me 💖
did you reach your reading goal for the year (if you had one)?
I hate to say it, but no I didn’t. My original reading goal was 72 and I was basing that number off of how many books I read in 2020 (which was 67). Then I realized that was stupid because I was out of work in 2020 for months so I had all the time in the world to read and now I don’t, so I ended up changing my reading goal to 60...still didn’t make it though. I did get up to 56 so I’m not too disappointed. I also don’t keep track of all the fanfiction and webcomics I read which is a lot so I know I technically did make my goal.
what are your top 3 books you read this year?
The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune, The Deep by Rivers Solomon, and Master of One by Jaida Jones and Danielle Bennett.
what’s a book that you didn’t expect to enjoy quite so much going in?
A Universe of Wishes anthology edited by Dhonielle Clayton. I decided to read it because someone was looking for a buddy and I knew it was on my list. Didn’t think it would amount to anything special. Then I ended up liking all but three of the fifteen stories. I’m actually hoping most of them get turned into full length novels because I became too attached to some stories and need more.
were there any books that didn’t live up to your expectations?
Sadly, yes. The Kingdoms by Natasha Pulley. I’ve liked all of her books, so this was a bigger disappointment than usual.
did you reread any old faves? If so, which one was your favourite?
I don’t reread books since I don’t have a lot of time to read and would prefer to read books I haven’t read before when I do. That being said I found myself going back to Nine by Zach Hines throughout the year to reread my favorite moments. I’ve been craving a sequel but I don’t think it’s going to happen so I’ll just have to satisfy myself with the one book.
did you dnf any books?
YES! I’ve actually been meaning to make a post about this because it’s the first time I’ve dnf’d a book in my life. I’ve finally gotten to a point where I’m tired of wasting time reading books I’m not enjoying. The book in question is Son of the Storm by Suyi Davies Okungbowa. I got about halfway through the book, but I wasn’t connecting with any characters and I didn’t care about the plot so I finally gave up and let it go. It was such a great feeling.
did you read any books outside your usual preferred genre(s)?
I’ve never been big on literary fiction but The Prophets by Robert Jones Jr. sounded so good so I gave it a shot. It was a pretty good read and I wish more people knew about it.
what was your predominant format this year?
Print always. I don’t have the attention span for audiobooks and my tablet is too big to hold comfortably for ebooks.
what’s the longest book you read this year?
According to Goodreads my longest book was The House of Hades by Rick Riordan because my edition had two additional short stories in it. I didn’t read those though, so I think technically my longest is Rule of Wolves by Leigh Bardugo at 607 pages.
what are your top 3 anticipated 2022 releases?
I actually don’t know a lot of what’s coming out in 2022 so my options are limited, but I will say The Ivory Key by Akshaya Raman, So This Is Ever After by F.T. Lukens, and The City of Dusk by Tara Sim.
what books from your tbr did you not get to this year, but are excited to read in 2022?
Oh, man there are so many. Where do I start? The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater, A Torch Against the Night by Sabaa Tahir, Any Way the Wind Blows by Rainbow Rowell, Legendborn by Tracy Deonn, and A Marvellous Light by Freya Marske.
Tagging @bvkspine @rensreadingrainbow @ireadiguess @otsoreads if you’re interested (and sorry if you’ve already been tagged)!
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kofi
A snippet from a commission I did for @leophoenix12! Lucifer and Lilith from MS on a romantic date. The snippet is sfw and slightly angsty. Enjoy!
m!Lucifer x Lilith
picnic on a large field
sfw, romantic, angst, ~1500 words
Tears of the Night
Standing in front of the mirror, Lilith checks her image one last time, pushing her hair in the right place and flattening her dress. You had only given her twenty minutes to get ready, telling her that you’d take her out for dinner. Of course she was upset due to the short notice, but her joy to spend time with you had exceeded it as always. The succubus jumped into action right away, fishing out clothes while mumbling complaints strictly directed at the lack of appropriate dresses.
Now she stands there, wearing a cute little chiffon dress with a floral pattern and an unsure expression which makes her look even more adorable. The make up is decent as well, giving her a youthful and refreshed appearance. It’s a total contrast from her usual dark and mature style, but a welcome change for once. You like seeing all the different sides from your lover and even after all this time, you’re still captivated by her beauty like you were when you first met.
“And?” she asks, trying not to fiddle with the dress. You walk up behind her, eying her through the reflection. Your lover tenses up under your intense assessment, the hint of a frown appearing on her forehead. Unable to keep your face straight any longer, you let out a light chuckle. The frown is present now, her head snapping around. As much as you’d like to tease her a bit more by telling her how cute she looks with that pout, you decide to put her at ease.
“You look perfect, as always my dear,” you reassure her, planting a gentle kiss on the nape of her neck. Lilith’s shoulder drop almost instantly, huffing out a relieved breath of air through her nose.
“But there’s one thing missing,” you say, pulling out a blindfold off your pocket. Your lover stares at you, not quite understanding what you want from her.
“Close your eyes,” you say, but Lilith doesn’t react, her attention still on the cloth. “C’mon, don’t you trust me?” you ask her jokingly, but the question makes her perk up instantly and she shuts her eyes close. Biting your lip, you tie the blindfold. You want to kiss her so badly, but you’re afraid that once you start, you won’t be able to stop. So you force yourself to resist; you’ve got a whole afternoon planned after all. When you’re finished, your hands rest on her shoulders and then slowly move down the length of her arms until her slender hands are in yours.
“Ready?” you ask her, circling your thumbs over the back of her hands comfortingly and when she nods, you take off. This time you teleport instead of flying, since the rendezvous point you’ve chosen is a bit too far. You’ve done this a lot of times with Lilith, but you know how much it still desorients her. You’re also aware that the blindfold will pretty much worsen her discomfort, but luckily your lover isn’t complaining, her grip on you only tightening for a few minutes after you arrive. She’s about to take it off, when you call out to stop her.
“Wait!” you say, the urgency in your voice causing her to drop her hand. You didn’t mean to startle her, but after all this time you spent on preparing this evening, you want everything to be perfect. Taking a look at your surroundings one last time, you clasp your hands, satisfied by your inspection. “Now.” Lilith slowly unties the blindfold, blinking a few times before she fully realizes with what she’s confronted, her jaw dropping in awe. You’re currently standing in a field somehwere in the Tuscany, wildflowers in all colors covering the ground beneath you. The air is warm, the sun hining down on you in a soft orange hue. Her eyes flutter close as she breathes in the fresh air round her, soaking up the beauty of everything deep inside her. You watch her gorgeous form, trying to burn the sight in your memory. The happiness in her expression is too precious, almost too much to bear for your brittle heart. When she opens her eyes again, her gaze falls upon the picnic you’ve prepared, her hand flying to her mouth in delighted surprise. Lilith looks up at you, emerald green eyes shining with unshed tears of joy. You gently take her hand and guide her down on the blanket.
“Lucifer...”, she whispers, still not believing the sight in front of her. “You didn’t have to...Thank you,” she says, snuggling closer to you and leaning her head on your shoulder.
“You don’t have to thank me dear. I just wished we could spend every day like this,” you reply, planting a kiss on the top of her head as you wrap your arm around her shoulder. Your lover’s hair smells a thousand times better than any flower in the whole world, you think as you let out a content sigh.
“Let’s eat,” you suggest and so you spend most of the evening chatting and eating to your hearts content. After a while you just lay there on the field side by side, having abandoned the blanket for the soft cushioning of the nature. It’s not dark enough to watch the stars and you don’t feel like talking either, but the silence is somehow comforting. Until you start overthinking, that is. Once again, worry clouds your mind, preventing you from enjoying your time the way you should. But how could it not with the way things are right now in your life? Living in constant fear of losing the person you love the most has taken its toll on you.
“Lilith..”, you begin, not quite knowing what to say. She turns around to look at you, patiently waiting for you to continue. “I’m sorry,” you continue taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through. Ever since I met you, all I wanted was to protect you, but I failed. I failed you so miserably and I’m sorry. My sheer existence is enough to hurt you and despite everything you’re still here and I’m...” your voice cracks halfway through the confession and although you want to go on, you stop when you notice the tears streaming down Lilith’s face.
“Lucifer, don’t say such things, I beg you! You could never fail me! You were always there for me, no matter how much I fucked up and if there’s one who should be apologizing, it’s me! I ruined your whole life and I’m the reason you were abandoned by everyone you cared for!” Lilith’s words break your heart even more than your own thoughts did before and you can literally hear the shatters ringing in your ears. You quickly move closer, cradling her in your arms as you try to soothe her.
“Lilith, you are my life and the only one I ever cared for. If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve already given up everything. My love, my heart, you’re my only hope, my shining light in this dark world!” Your lover’s sobs become your own as you lie there and soon the sky is joining your weeping, heavy rain pouring down on you.
“Lilith, I love you so much,” you say, cupping her chin. When you lean down for a kiss, she pushes her lips against yours greedily. Lilith wraps her arms around your neck, clinging to you desperately as you kiss, the salty taste of your tears mixing with the fresh taste of the rain pouring down on you. The boisterous thunder of the sudden storm thrums in sync with your heart, every bolt causing your pulse to pick up. The rains is oh so cold, but your lover is not, her warm body flushed against yours sprawled on the field. The harsh prickling of the water is nothing compared to the burning passion withing you, the heat spreading through your limbs like a wild fire in the forest. Each kiss, each gasp heightens your want, your pleasure. Soon you find yourselves suffocated by the clothes you wear, trying desperately to lose them.
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Big and Bad | Halloween | [ Wolf!Ubbe x Little Red!Reader ]
❛ pairing | wolf!ubbe x little red riding hood!reader
❛ type | almost one shot
❛ summary | oh, you knew you shouldn’t you knew you couldn’t-- but what if you did?
❛ tags | anthro!themes, sexual overtones but i couldn’t be bothered to fuck, slightly dark ubbe? not really it’s in his nature, little red riding hood redux, easily distracted reader, gluttonous hvitserk.
❛ sy’s notes | it’s slightly musical in quality given my class in fairytales. i wouldn’t think too much into trying to justify little red’s actions, it’s sort of a trope in fairytales.
You know the way to Granny’s house.
It was along the same old cobblestone trail with its same old straight edge path into the forest. No fun divots, no flirting with anyone to see. It was less than a day’s journey if you could ever manage to keep your distracted mind straight; that was.
But there were bouncy bright red flowers along the way, ones that you’d talk to, given the chance. Today, you gave into that chance, skipping with your skirt slapping down your legs until you kneeled before them in leathery laced sandals among a patch of green, green grass.
“There’s a wolf in the woods,” said the first red rose. The second bounced into tension; her roots straining the plush green around her spine. “There’s a big bad wolf in the woods!”
The first two always incited the group, “The big bad wolf! The big bad wolf!”
“Who is to say there is a big bad wolf?” you said. “Maybe he is a good big wolf.”
“No no, no no,” the roses chimed. “Ubbe is a big bad wolf, a big bad wolf prowling the woods!”
Under normal circumstances, the roses were chipper to the excess peels of fruit you’d litter around their spines at the base of the grass. As you gathered up the peels among fresh, hot bread and a pat of bundled butter, you knew that they were afraid of something. Of course, something for flowers could be nothing for humans.
“Oh! You’re overreacting. Ubbe is a good wolf,” you told them. Squealing and receding, the flowers laxed. ”Little flowers?” Quiet as a stone in the pit of the forest, you set the peels about their feet when you felt heavy breath beating against the blood red ribbon on your neck.
“Little red,” the big bad wolf finely said. “Off to Grandmother’s again?”
You hopped up onto your sandals and patted down your gown. You tugged your corset finely down. The wolf stretched out his limbs and claws and stood at length, twisted legs and furry tail, flapping in the dull wind. You nod, stupidly against your mother Aelswith’s words.
“Grandmother Judith is sick in the deep dark woods.”
He turns his face toward the straight road; one of pins, so they said. You never knew the wolf to be a big bad wolf, maybe he was a misunderstood wolf. Then again, with his long claws tipped in red, like the ruddy long braid that slapped down his back, maybe he could be a big bad wolf. “Which road will you take?”
Your tongue smoothed over plush red lips.
“The one of needles,” you answered; not taking the one most traveled, nor the one your mother told you. The one of needles; winding slow through the forest, too slow for any good girl to take. You’d amble through the forest at your own pace.
Who needed your mother anyway?
“Then I’ll take the one of pins,” he said, his wicked smile moving in a curl.
He did so love a hunt.
A big bad wolf living in the woods had to have a little wolf to win what’s meant to be won. Ubbe tracked the short-lived trail across from the opening of the woods; to the deep of the woods where his little wolf ate bones and guts.
“Hvitserk, get up,” Ubbe called to the little golden-brown wolf. Hvitserk, rolling on his back, stood up curiously without his bone in hand. His little brother was a hungry wolf; with a hunger that could never be filled at any time. A hungry wolf; in another sense, his little hine.
“There’s a cabin at the edge of the woods.”
“At the edge of the woods?” Hvitserk asked, “The widow’s cabin?”
“That’s it; with an old hag inside.”
“Old Queen Judith?” Hvitserk trilled, clawing at his small line of hair dripping down his stomach into his thatch of thick hair. Ubbe swats his hand, leaving bright red makes on the side.
“That’s the maid inside. You can gobble her up; if you’ll keep Bjorn busy outside.”
Fat as he was, old blood was bad blood and he knew his brother’s old mind. He’d bother with Hvitserk until the sunset outside. “You’re on the hunt,” Hvitserk noticed at once. It was stupid of Hvitserk, Ubbe thought. He’s always on the hunt for something new.
Princess-- is a taste he hasn’t had yet.
The sun has set behind the thicket of trees past your father’s castle. You don’t look back, not now and not often anyway, as busy as Father was. No hunting to be held on a day where love with Aelswith was to beheld. So you moved through the tall trees and curious concerned animals. Past warning flowers bouncing and brooding: turn back! This isn’t the right road!
But of course, it was the right road; it let you think with an open mind. Back to the wolf who stomped around the wicked forest where your grandmother’s cottage. Peeking through the brambles and tearing up your little hood, you at last found the little cobblestone cottage that night.
Rap, rap. Your knuckles clacked the oaken door.
“Hello? Grandmother? Let me in!”
“Come in,” rumbles, and rasps, and growls a not-so-grandmotherly voice behind the door. Your hands wound around the sheening golden knob and pulled open the busted lock. The door falls heavy behind your back, thick with a wolf’s heady musk inside.
“Grandmother?” you say; and know it’s a lie, there’s no grandmother waiting deep inside. So you set your picnic basket down and unlace your cut up little hood, shaking a thorn or two loose. You settle the bread by jars of slick and thick red blood. Raspberry jam does look so much like blood. “Grandmother are you there?”
“In the back room.”
Should you stay, should you go? You pluck up your gown, stepping around puddles of red, but not making a sound. You pounced over dark stains and touched the curtain of a door. Oh you do so know there’s a monster lying in wait but your belly titillates for just a little more. You draw the weighty red curtains out of your eye; encounter the fearful sight of the wolf sitting on the bed very much alive.
“Oh!” you cup your hand over your ruby red lips. “What big ears you have.”
The wry smile overtakes his face; as if he knows what you know. Your cheeks warm over in soft heat, drawing your finger over your chin; you move closer. Your sandals push up the floorboards in creak, creak, creak.
“The better to hear you with,” he musters. Still as a stone in the forest. His tail thwaps, the only marker of movement in a sodden room. You muster up more.
“What big eyes you have.”
He turns his head now, his darkened claws at his hip, drawing your attention to his naked chest. The ruddy brown hair trailing from his belly button to a pair of neatly constructed trousers; nothing is for naught on the big, bad wolf. Your eyes snap to, catching the big bad wolf in his act; his eyes are wrapped by a thin film of blue where his iris should be. Oh, he watches!
“Better to see you with.”
“What a big… teeth you have,” you moisten your lips and grip your skirt. A step closer and then another, and you’re before him. He’s the source of a heavy musk. One that isn’t as light as the sweet little wolf that you fed muffins to. It’s raw and wrong and right.
He’s silent then, but the wide smile parts to expose his angular canines. He moistens his lips. Oh that you couldn’t hear what haughty nothings he had to say, the better to taste you with.
Ask it, the wolf whispers. His fingers fall from his waist to fiddle with the fine lining of your corset. Your chest rises with dry air. Ubbe, the very big bad wolf indeed, rose his hand up to the expanse of your breast. His claws cut a clumsy and purposeful line across your chest. “O-oohh. Wha… what big hands you have.”
“Better to catch you with.”
And with that you jerk back, he jerks forward. His harsh hand drew you against the bloody wall, pressuring your throat, stripping the silent air from your soft throat. And god; the growing pressure of his claws compressing your neck-- it’s good. You struggle with his hand for air, drawing your nails on top of his long claws. The big bad wolf; the big bad wolf; you’ve been caught by the big bad wolf.
@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever @destynelseclipsa @soleil-dor
#Ubbe x Reader#Ubbe Ragnarsson x Reader#Ubbe Lothbrok x Reader#Vikings imagines#vikings imagine#viking imagine#vikings x reader#vikings/reader
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Text
Just Ask
Requested by @hemomartin
Pairing: Minatozaki Sana x You
Genre: Fluff, Smut
Word Count: 1.1k
Warnings: None
A/N: Yes, I am a useless, pansexual whore. No, I don’t care. :)
“What’s that?” Sana asked. The girls all turned to her. She stared at them with an innocent look. They pushed Nayeon forward and she shot them a glare. Sana stared at Nayeon with her usual sweet look. Nayeon pulled Sana away from the girls.
“So, you and Y/N don’t perform oral?” she asked once they were away from the girls.
“Is it a song? You know, since oral is talking,” Sana said. Nayeon patted Sana’s head, trying to think of a good way to explain it.
“No, it’s… aish… it’s like sex with your mouths.”
“Oh, you mean kissing?”
“No.” Nayeon pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s sex with your mouth on their… privates.” Sana’s eyes went wide and her cheeks flushed. Nayeon coughed into her hand to hide her laugh. “It’s something any gender, or lack there-of, can do. You just use your mouth to give them pleasure.”
“People really do that?” Sana inquired. Nayeon nodded.
Later that night, Sana came over to your place to watch a movie. Which was code for make out and eat junk food. She sat snuggled in your side as you tossed popcorn into your mouth. About halfway through the movie you had her seated on your lap with your hands up her shirt. You massaged her breasts as you coaxed her tongue into your mouth. She had her arms wrapped around your neck as she let out soft moans.
She pulled away from you, staring down at you. You stared back, still playing with her boobs. “What’s on your mind Princess?” you asked, hands coming down to rest on her hips. You rubbed soft circles with your thumbs as you waited for to talk.
“It’s nothing serious or bad, but Nayeon told me about something… sexual.” She added the last word quietly, looking down. You quirked a brow.
“Is it something you want to try?” you asked. She hesitated before nodding. You smiled. “Just ask me, Princess. You know I’m willing to try anything for you.” She bit her lip glancing up at you with her puppy eyes.
“Oral?” You drew your lips into a thin line, hands gripping onto her.
“And did she explain to you what it is?” you inquired. She nodded, her cheeks turning a soft pink. “If you’re sure you wanna try it Princess, we can do it.” She nodded. Your hands went to her ass, grabbing it tight as you stood up. She let out a squeak, wrapping her arms around your neck. You let out a chuckle as you carried her to your room.
You set her down gently onto your bed. You took off her shirt and bra and returned to kissing her, licking the inside of her mouth as you groped and pinched her nipples. She let out little whines, her hips bucking up against you. You smirked against her mouth before pressing quick kisses down her neck. You stopped at her breasts, taking one in your mouth and bringing your hand up to play with the other one.
“Y/N,” she whined, her hands coming to grasp your hair. She knotted her fingers in your hair as you sucked her boob, gently pulling on the hardening nipple. You switched breasts, giving the other one equal attention. She bucked against you, moaning your name.
Once you were satisfied, you kissed your way down her stomach. She watched as you sat up, pulling her pants down her legs and tossing them aside. “Y/N,” she said. You paused, glancing up at her. “Have you--have you done this before?” she asked. You nodded. “Why is this our first time?” She seemed kind of hurt.
“Because not everyone is comfortable with it,” you said, sitting back on your heels. “And I would never do anything you weren’t comfortable with. I thought you never brought it up because you didn’t like it. If I had known you didn’t know, I would have brought it up a long time ago.”
“Do you like it?” she asked.
“Yes, I do, but I love giving you pleasure more. If you don’t like it at any time, let me know. Ok?” She nodded.
You bent down, pressing light, delicate kisses up her thighs, making her hine and push her clothed core towards you. You brought a finger up to rub her. Her panties were completely soaked, making you groan. You pulled her underwear down, watching as her arousal glistened under the light of your room.
“I’ll be real honest Princess, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop. You don’t realize how long I’ve been waiting to do this.” You bent your head down, licking a long stripe through her folds. She let out a surprised gasp. You did it again and she let out a moan. “Do you want me to stop?” you asked. She shook her head violently. You smirked. “As you wish, Princess.”
You dove right into her, licking her folds and teasing her clit. She let out a string of curses, hands coming to take refuge in your hair again. You ate her out like you’d been dying to do since the first time you slept with her. You wrapped your arms around her thighs, pulling her as close as possible as you buried your tongue in her. She gasped.
You took one of your hands and coated two of your fingers with her juices before you slowly pushed them into her. She let out a moan, her body arching. You picked up the pace, curling your fingers as you pumped them in and out of her. Her moans grew louder and you could feel her starting to clench around you. Wrapping your mouth around her clit, you let out an appreciative hum, making her call out your name. Her legs began to tremble as she moaned your name like a mantra.
“Let go Princess. Cum for me,” you said, curling your fingers. She called your name and you felt her clench around you as she came. You pulled your fingers out, lapping at her drenched core. You didn’t stop until she began whining from the oversensitivity.
She was panting like crazy when you pulled away. Her juices ran down your chin as you stared at her with a lustful gaze. She looked ethereal in her completely fucked out state. You bit your lip, eyes wandering over her body.
“What do you think Princess? Something you’d like to do again?” you asked. She nodded, her eyes closed as her breathing steadied. You pulled your shirt off, unclasping your bra. “You good for round two?” She nodded, holding her arms out for you.
#haveanotherkpopblog post#twice#twice fics#twice fic#twice smut#twice fluff#twice angst#twice reactions#twice scenarios#twice sana#twice Minatozaki sana#sana#Minatozaki sana#sana fics#Minatozaki sana fics#sana fic#Minatozaki sana fic#sana smut#sana fluff#sana angst#sana reactions#sana scenarios#Minatozaki sana smut#Minatozaki sana fluff#Minatozaki sana angst#Minatozaki sana reactions#Minatozaki sana scenarios
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