milky filling

As I lay there, listening to the soft slap of the sea, and thinking these sad and strange thoughts, more and more and more stars had gathered, obliterating the separateness of the Milky Way and filling up the whole sky. And far far away in that ocean of gold, stars were silently shooting and falling and finding their fates, among those billions and billions of merging golden lights. And curtain after curtain of gauze was quietly removed, and I saw stars behind stars behind stars, as in the magical Odeons of my youth. And I saw into the vast soft interior of the universe which was slowly and gently turning itself inside out. I went to sleep, and in my sleep I seemed to hear a sound of singing.
—  Iris Murdoch, The Sea, The Sea
Best friends: S.coups

“Why the hell did the car have to break down as it’s raining.” Y/N grumbles as she and her best friend make their way to the closest hotel they could find.

“How should I know, I swear I checked everything before we left.” Seungcheol said.

“I know you did, it’s okay let’s just get into the hotel and dry up. Good thing we brought our luggage.”  Y/N groaned. They entered the hotel, small droplets of water fall on the ground as the two rush towards the main desk.

“We need two rooms please.” Seungcheol said to the man behind the front desk.

“There’s only one room with a double size bed. Is that going to be okay?” The man asked. Seungcheol eyes Y/N, he could feel his face gain heat at the thought of having to share a bed with his best friend and the love his life, although she didn’t know it.

“It’ll be fine Cheol. We’ll take it.” Y/N said for him, signing the paper and grabbing the key card.

“Why don’t you go shower and change first..” Seungcheol said awkwardly. Y/N nods and grabs dry clothes from her luggage and disappearing into the bathroom. Seungcheol lies on the floor, sighing to himself as endless thoughts of what tonight could bring him rush through his mind. Fifteen minutes later Y/N comes out the bathroom, only in a large shirt and a towel around her neck.

“Your turn Cheollie-Cheol.”

“Okay was the-Are you not wearing shorts?” He exclaimed. Y/N snorts, rolling her eyes. “I forgot okay? Jesus calm down.” Seungcheol’s face burns, a slight red coloring his cheeks as he walks off to shower. Y/N giggles to herself, knowing her little plan was going just as planned. She knew Seungcheol liked her, and she very much liked him back, but none of them made a move. After drying her hair, she lays on the bed making sure her shirt is slighting above her upper thighs. Seungcheol emerges from the bathroom in his sweatpants and a white shirt, Y/N looks up at him and tries not to bite her lip.

“We should probably get some sleep. We have to call the mechanics for the car.” Seungcheol said as he climbed into the bed, trying to be discreet at looking at Y/N’s legs.

“Yeah we should. Night Cheol.” She said as turns out the lamps.


Four hours later and the two of them still weren’t asleep. The tension in the room was so thick, it could be cut with a knife if possible. Y/N felt her heart quicken as she decided to turn around, and just as she did so did Seungcheol.



The two looked at each other, both their faces burning.



“Are you sure you don’t want me to sleep on the floor. I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable.” Seungcheol said getting up. Y/N grabs his wrist, pulling him back down.

“Stay Cheol. It’s okay.” She said with a small smile on her face. Seungcheol grins at her, scooting himself slightly closer than normal. They looked at eachother, Y/N feels her heartbeat race, her breath growing shallow. Her eyes outlining the features of Seungcheol’s face, stopping at his lips.



“…Can you…kiss me?” Y/N asked shyly. Seungcheol felt himself go stiff. He stares at her, focusing on her plump lips that were slightly parted. He leaned in close to her, capturing her lips softly, and Y/N eagerly kissed him back. Y/N could feel herself growing more and more passionate as she rolled on top of Seungcheol, doing her best not to break their kiss. His hands roughly secure her on his lap, holding onto her ass. Their kiss left Y/N breathless as she pulls away, rocking her hips back and forth between Seungcheol’s clothed crotch.

“Oh god~” He groaned feeling himself harden against the rough grinding. Y/N bites her lip, leaning over to hold onto the headboard to keep herself steady as she keeps grinding.

“We will get no where like this.” He said as he flips the girl over, sitting himself between her legs.

“Someone’s impatient.” Y/N said with a giggle.

“If you’ve been waiting as long as I have then hell yeah.” Seungcheol said with a smirk. One by one their clothes get thrown off, Seungcheol eagerly kisses down the girl’s body, savoring every place he could. Y/N whimpers at his touch, feeling herself get wetter as he gets closer to her heat.

“S-shit…” Y/N moans as the older boy rubs circles into her sensitive bud. Seungcheol traces her body, her chest rising and falling as she seeks air, her face dissolved in bliss. He teases her entrance before slowly pushing himself into her. Thrusting roughly into her, Y/N lets out desperate moans. Seungcheol quickens his pace, the room emits against skin slapping against skin. Feeling her stomach tighten, she grips onto Seungcheol’s back.

“CHEOL~” She cries as she climaxes. He groans soon after as his milky cum fills her up. The two pant heavily, catching their breaths. Seungcheol reaches over and grabs Y/N’s hand, interlocking their fingers together.

“Well…that happened…”

“Oh my god Cheol… I love you.” Y/N laughs pecking his cheek. He grins at her, giving her a kiss on the lips.

“I love you too Y/N.”

Hope you liked it, I feel like the end was kinda rushed tbh
-RI <3

Moon in the 4th house - Lunar Cocoon

Moon water is cradled in the umbilical cord with Moon in the fourth, and although the line is cut away, the cosmic connection between the individual and mother remains in close tangle for a lifetime. This is a sensitive position for the Moon, and her lunar songs are dignified in the Cancer ruled fourth house. There is a deeply rooted attachment to the home and family. Stability is important, although the individual may have been moved around and unsettled during childhood. There was typically a lot of love, and the experiences of the upbringing leave enduring. imprints. In many case,s the conditions surrounding this period are what the individual reflexes into and responds to situations with. The home is a palace of warmth and maternal embrace, and the inner life is rich and celestial. The Moon in the fourth is a protective and solicitous spirit who safeguards loved ones through the storm. The gateways to his inner riches are also guarded by higher forces, so he must never fear true abandonment. A moon lagoon filled with rampant visual imagery and graphic emotional artwork could characterise the inner picture.

The individual can be swept away in the tides of life with Moon in the fourth.  Establishing a steady ground and place where everybody can gather is important. The person can be fascinated with his own heritage and relish in retracing the bloodline. There is a high appreciation for family heirlooms and items defining the ancestors that he is despondent about having never met. The Moon symbolises feminine energies and the fourth house is the astrological relationship with the mother. The Moon is attached to the earth’s gravity field the same way a baby is attached to its mother. The relationship with the mother is critical and significant, whether it be favorable or combative. She was likely the more influential parent whose values steer the person through life. Lunar cycles swing in constant change, from shadow to full light. Maybe the relationship with the mother is emotionally distant, or he may be hyper reactive to her moods. The maternal instinct with Moon in the fourth is profound and angelic. The individual is generous in dispensing the arms of motherly love and support to anybody who inflames his emotions. This is the kind of hold he yearns to retreat back into and hide away under. The needs of childhood remain residual longings.

The fourth house represents the psychological base, Rudyhar calls this the symbolic tap-root of the human organism, the place in which the total human person finds his centre. He writes that the fourth house Moon person seeks insistently to withdraw within the inner, psychic realms - partly at least for fear of meeting the  confrontations which life presents. The individual is highly defensive and in search of shelter. Emotional currents filter his perception of life and establishing safety for himself and loved ones is imperative. There may be a fear of being left behind, forgotten, or abandoned. The way in which he was validated and shown affection during childhood typifies his emotional responses in relationships and the love he shows himself. Separating the self from family can be difficult and his own place in the world can be ill defined. The home life is important and a reflection of his values and idealistic sanctuary. Milky Lunar drops fill the fourth house Moon inner world, and he blows the froths of creamy charm through the hearts of those he loves. He is the cosmic milkshake of love and care, a place everybody can come home to.


[ art Victo Ngai - See Babies Before They Are Born]

  • what she says: i'm fine
  • what she means: our milky way galaxy is filled with billions and billions of stars, each orbited by their own planets, and the virgo supercluster contains billions and billions of other galaxies with stars and planets. past that are even more superclusters with more galaxies and more stars and more planets. but that's just in the observable universe, there could be even more possibilities that we dont yet have the technology to see. who knows what we're missing out on as tiny little meaty bags trapped in our own world

After my Ordination into the Center for Sacred Studies, I picked a tarot card with the Goddess, Nuit.
*.. Nuit is Goddess of the Sky, the heavens and the starry night that reflects the eternity of the universe. As Mother Goddess of the Night, She is keeper of the unconsciousness and a protector of those who have journeyed through the land of the dead. Her skin is the color of the night sky lit by the starry souls of our dead ancestors who await rebirth. As the Mother Goddess of the Sun, She is a Goddess of resurrection. Each of Her hands and feet touching one of the cardinal points of Earth creating a Circle Of life with no beginning and no end. Her arched body creates the Milky Way filled with the Spiraling lights of Resurrection. Through the love of Goddess Nuit we are all sparks of life manifesting our own paths and free will. Her greatest gift is that we experience life with the promise of all paths leading back to Her. ..*

Milk & Sugar (One Shot)

Summary: People don’t necessarily say they love you with a set of lips and vocal chords.

Original Scan: ©

1.     Habit

Taehyung likes his coffee burning. Enough that when he touches the ceramic it burns the tips of his fingers and warms his palms to the bone. He likes it with three teaspoons of sugar, not two. And he drinks it in an oversized mug, half milk, half coffee.

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(I’ve seen the idea of dark!Conan floating around in one way or another and I adore it because itmakessomuchsense so I figured ey, why not give it some physical form?^^)

Welcome to the Edge

(3/5 Halloween mixes)

“I’m the voice inside your head you refuse to hear
I’m the face that you have to face mirrored in your stare
I’m what’s left, I’m what’s right, I’m the enemy
I’m the hand that will take you down, bring you to your knees”

Shinichi has been pretending to be Conan for so long that his psyche shatters into two.
The result is that he now shares his mind with a blood-thirsty, remorseseless 6-year-old who calls himself “Conan Edogawa” and wants to reign over their body… but for how long can Shinichi keep him at bay?

LISTEN (21 tracks)

Clint Eastwood - Gorillaz // Migraine - Twenty One Pilots // Tardigrade Song - Cosmo Sheldrake // Nightmare - Set It Off // Control - Halsey // The Pretender - Foo Fighters // My Name (Wearing Me Out) - Shinedown // Skyfall - Adele // Viva la Vida (Cryptex Reglitch) - Coldplay // Double Life - Conor Oberst // Ode to a Nightingale (J. Keats) - Benedict Cumberbatch // The Draw - Bastille // Need It - Half Moon Run // Come Wander With Me - Bonnie Beecher // Body - Mother Mother // Sprout and the Bean - Joanna Newsom // I’m So Sorry - Imagine Dragons // Cops And Robbers - The Hoosiers // Full Grizzly - Going Quantum & Stephen Walking // Iodine Sky - Black Light Burns // Beautiful Crime - Tamer

If you’re interested in the way it plays out in my head, read my ficlet “My Immortal” “Immortal Bird” below the cut.

For full immersion, I’d recommend reading it song by song^^

Immortal Bird

Clint Eastwood - Gorillaz

One day something starts stirring deep inside of Shinichi’s mind –  it’s a new, a separate life. Conan. A six-year-old, ingenious child that was nursed on blood and has seen more corpses than anyone else in the world. For now, Conan is still powerless, but he feels himself awakening and he just knows that there are great things out there, waiting only for him…

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Heavenly Repair

Thirteenth installment of the of the Castiel “At First Sight” series (“At First Sight” - “You’re Growing On Me” - “Under His Wing”- “Wandering Thoughts” - “Warrior Of Heaven”-“When You Wake” - “The Ultimatum” - “A First Glimpse” - “A Flared Soul” - “A Final Farewell” - “The Crosshairs” “The End”). Once again, there were only requests to continue, so I’m just gonna throw my own in there. Hope no one minds. “So the reader is somehow (?) healed by Castiel and is relocated to the bunker, Ansiel and his gang assuming she’s dead. The reader wakes, still wounded but no longer in critical condition, to Castiel’s new "wings,” the angel paying her undivided attention as she slowly but surely mends.“ Hope you like it!

(All past and future installments can be found on the “The Story Continues…” page)

Disorientation. Everything was vivid and vague at the same time, your senses overwhelmed and struggling for purchase as the frigid concrete soaked slowly with your blood, your fingers sticky with fluid as they fluttered over the gaping hole in your stomach. You could hear nothing, see very little, and feel only the chill of stone beneath you paired with the slick of your life as it drained from your body. Charcoal wisps of disintegrating feathers danced through the air, twirling as they fell, reduced to ash and curls of smoke above you… a morbid ballet, but art no less. Beautiful. How could anything so painful, so heart-wrenching and sick be so very beautiful? The lights above flickered, spraying sparks in your peripheral vision, illuminating the darkness that threatened the borders of your sight, keeping your focus away from the one aspect that would not dull. Your fingers fumbled numbly, almost absentmindedly, over the jagged snare in your stomach, stiffened by the ice seeping through your veins, hardening your joints to crystallization. It was becoming difficult to move, even lift a finger, your limbs growing heavy and leaden from lack of blood flow. The only warmth your fingers drew, they drew from the thick liquid pooling over your serrated skin, the unfeeling pads of your fingertips grazing over the puncture, frayed nerve endings stinging with acute agony, a milky silence filling your head. Your head was filled with syrup, your thoughts were waterlogged and slow, every action and passing idea swimming sluggishly through the swamp that was your mind. You fought against the anesthetic waves of shock, your lips trembling over jittering teeth, surges of feeble fire tingling against your fingertips if ever your hand encountered the stray feather while you attempted to organize your thoughts. You’d been injured on hunts before, but it had never this severe. Sam and Dean usually went out of their way to help you, too, but… where were they? Where was anyone? You couldn’t see anything but the blackened feathers and the thick concrete bands holding the parking garage’s ceiling in place. You needed to stop the bleeding. Was it any use? You were flat on your back, your spine melting into the floor, but you knew without seeing that the extent of your injury was not something you could mend by pressing a palm and crutching yourself to a hospital. The puddle of blood had spread to touch your shoulders, your eyelids fluttering weakly. It was difficult to close your jaw, to clench your teeth. You gave your head a withered, pathetic shake, trying to unscramble your flighty thoughts. Press down. Stop the bleeding.

Your hands could find no defined spot, their shaking amplified by the slick of blood on your abdomen. The wisps of perished feathers, the final remains of the fallen angels strewn about like litter, sighed in the air, shifting sideways in the wake of someone’s departure. They returned to their lazy descent, shadows moving into view before three familiar faces. Your vision tunneled, eliminating any sense of identification, until a familiar hand slapped yours aside, the feather still tucked between your fingers. Sam’s palm pressed down against the entry point of Ansiel’s angel blade, the sudden and excruciating wave of pain sharpening your vision long enough for you to see Dean’s hands moving to cup your face, a hand pressed against your shivering lips to prevent the worst of your scream from being heard. His lips moved, but no sound reached your ears save the lingering echo of ringing, of horrified bells that had already ceased tolling, their music tangible still in the emptiness their song left behind. It frightened you that you couldn’t pinpoint your heartbeat, not in sound, not in rhythm, not in the cavern of your chest. You felt no signs of life within your own body. Castiel’s sapphire eyes appeared over you for the shyest sliver of a second before straying from your face, his interest occupied by something around you, his wings out of sight. What little you could see of his face broke your heart; he was weeping, his shoulders heaving with the force of his sobs, tears streaming down his cheeks, his eyes swimming. His brow was furrowed, his lips parted over words you could not hear. His ocean eyes flickered back and forth between your face and whatever it was that drew his attention from you, his arms clutching something to his chest… a mass of something the color and vibrancy of lead; something stale and unattractive and plain. Had you been any less conscious, you would have never noticed the familiar texture of his fallen feathers. His eyes met yours, nodding Sam’s hand from your stomach, eliciting a sharper twang of pain; the acids on the hunter’s palms burning the fresh wound like poison, your silent wince moving your lips enough to allow more blood to flow from the corners of your mouth. The angel swiped at your chin before hunching over your body, letting the contents of his hands fall to your wound, his fingers pressing them onto your skin with a shocking weight, his face illuminated by a familiar glow, lips a hardened, emotion-void line. You noticed, through the veil that now hung over your eyes, that his eyes had grown glassy with tears that would not fall. You felt a fluttering at your stomach, familiar warmth spreading with nauseating waves of drowsiness. Dean’s hand prompted your cheek, not unkindly, with the sting of a slap as your head lolled to the side, his emerald eyes alight with terror as Castiel attempted to heal your fatal wound. Dean called your name, his voice barely reaching your ears, tears streaming down his face, horror etched into his every feature as your eyes closing to the world.

You were torn from unconsciousness by the light, tickling scent of heated honey, your eyelids fluttering open with some disobedience, as your lashes had adhered together by fallen and dried tears. Once open, they fought to close, exhaustion drugging you back towards the numbness of slumber, your body relaxed into the soft cushion of a mattress. Your mouth tasted of metal and salt, your tongue dry and heavy against your cheek. You ground your teeth in disgust, twisting blindly towards the heavenly aroma, your body seizing upon encountering an unimaginable pain in your core. It was as if each of your organs had been raked through with talons and manhandled by a particularly uneducated butcher. Your hand clutched for your abdomen, your elbows locked from lack of use, your palms arriving on the back of someone else’s hand. Your eyes were pried open by curiosity and pain, your gaze directed immediately towards the unbearable agony running through your stomach like you had swallowed barbed wire. Between his fingers came a radiance as soft and as delicate as candlelight, burning with a light brighter than a flickering wick could ever produce. The pain within you numbed significantly, yet not enough to banish the ache you felt, even without moving. You grimaced, tearing your eyes from the hand to the man to whom it belonged, his sapphire eyes glancing up from his work, pupils dilating to accommodate for the absence of this newly summoned light, a pained smile tugging his lips upwards. His hand moved from your stomach to graze along your cheekbone, his eyes saddened immensely, showing no emotion outside of sorrow. Instinctively, your own eyes left his face to target his wings… or, rather, where his wings would have been.

In place of the impossibly large masses of feathers and light laid two half-developed extensions of his body, almost completely covered in a thin, sparse layer of what appeared to be the beginnings of down. The magnificence and glory flooding your memories no longer existed. It seemed your conference with Ansiel had affected the both of you. The billowy, delicate tips of feathers fluttered softly as he shifted, shattering what little light they had harvested from his healing glow around the room like shards of glass. In places, there were no budding feathers, but small, ribbon-thin scars from angel blade lacerations, the skin beneath his feather still inflamed from the battle. He rustled his wings self-consciously, the discomfort on his face displaying his frustration with the loss of weight, of density, of… protection. Most notable was the loss of song; his wings were not singing as they used to, given their inability to rustle and sigh as they once could. His eyes met yours once you tore your gaze from the fluff coating the wings that were once so laden with feathers that they easily flooded a room, the angel offering an apologetic, loving wince. It was obvious, then; the pain was shared. For the first time, the thought that more to him may have been wounded while fighting Ansiel’s troops crossed your mind, followed by a jolt of panic at the thought of the both of you recovering in so breachable a bunker as this. You opened your mouth to speak, his finger laying soft as air before your lips, the down covering his wings humming softly at the contact. At least the reaction had not changed.

"Y/n, I’ve applied every ward and sigil I could fathom to the walls and structures of this building. We’re safe. Don’t be afraid,” he whispered, his voice velvet soft, words trailing off into silence as his finger traced the outline of your lips, your skin buzzing like a live wire. You smirked, the huff of air accompanying your breathy chuckle tugging on the pain in your stomach, your face crumpling. Castiel’s hand reached out, your own stopping his actions by twining your fingers with his. You steadied your breathing, your forehead unscrunching as the flash of pain dissipated.

“I’m alright, Cas, I just need a minute. And I thought I made it very clear that your mind reading habit had to en-” you joked, your comment cut short by the silken advance of his lips as they crushed into yours, his passions clear, though his movements were gentle. His were like rose petals against your lips; smooth, soft, and tender. His face angled to yours, sealing your lips to his with a quiet urgency, heat coursing through your body at the contact. Castiel’s new wings trilled with a breathy symphony, the feathers barely brushing against each other, hindered by their size, their song inexperienced and lovely. When he finally pulled himself away, he was smiling, pleased despite the guilt collecting on his features like dust. He shook his head slowly, dazed, and even without words, he was speaking as clear as day.

“You too would succumb if you doubted you would ever hear the subject of your affections speak again.” His voice rang with the purest pain, a divine agony, though his face displayed his contentment with your high spirits. “Clearly, there is no need for me to continue. I’ll stop immediately. Y/n…” he trailed off, eyes burning with joy and relief and unadulterated adoration. “Your voice is the sweetest song I have ever had the pleasure of hearing. I had hoped that you would recover and free me from the silence you left in your wake, but I could not be sure you would return to me. You cannot imagine how thankful I am to hear your voice again.” You smiled, bringing him closer, his wings hovering about you as they had grew so accustomed to doing, your fingers stroking along the fresh coat of feathers, their texture somehow softer than the inconceivable texture of his former feathers, his entire frame shivering before he rushed to connect with your lips once more. After your short eternity in silence, the room was alive with song.

Located in the heart of Dinosaur National Monument canyon country, Echo Park provides many opportunities to enjoy remarkable surroundings and discover Fremont petroglyphs. At night the sky is filled with a spectacular display of stars thanks to the lack of light pollution – making stargazing a must. Pictured here, the Milky Way fills the night sky along the Green River. Photo by Dan Duriscoe, National Park Service.

Playful (Ten - Smut)

Summary: Where you and Ten have a tickle fight and it somehow leads to the bedroom…

Warning: Fluff/Smut, Language

Originally posted by pcystagram

Requested by: Maweyortega

“Ten! Stop!” You laughed as his hands attacked your sides.

“No! Make me!” You gripped his hands and pushed him off of you. You jumped off the couch and dashed down the hallway.

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Suho isn’t usually the ‘dominant’ type, but tonight is an exception to this notion. His usually soft and loving pecks have morphed into ravenous and desirous kisses. His hands wander your body, not leaving a single area unexplored. His eyes are darkened with lust, as he begins to remove his raven black jacket and trousers, leaving him forsaken of any articles of clothing. He demands lowly for you to pleasure him to which you gladly comply to. You relish in the sight of his defined abdomen, once unknown to you. You take his member in grasp, permitting small kitten licks to the tip, causing growls of satisfaction to erupt from him. He threads his fingers within your hair much to your satisfaction, permitting your mouth to delve lower upon his throbbing length. Muttering strings of profanities with each bob you grant him, you release your tongue upon his length, moaning delicious vibrations into his member. As you speed your bobbing, ensuing a rousing friction, you hear him mutter: “fuck yes baby, make me cum.” Eventually, as you pump his length between bobs and sucks, you hear his strident groan of satisfaction resonate, as his milky essence fills your mouth erotically, prompting you to grin pleased. “Swallow,” he commands as you obey diligently. “Good girl,” he murmurs, leaning towards you for a peck upon your swollen lips. “Now it’s my turn,” he declares with a flirtatious smirk, setting to work on you. 

♥Tag any Suho stans!


F L A M E S || Rosalyn

 Flames slithered and danced across blistering wood and shattering glass. The sound of invisible voices whispered behind midnight cloaked ears, veiled by the softest of raven colored locks. The purest of blue hues looked on with a sense of pure sexual desire as she watched the small bar catch ablaze by her own sick, twisted villainous ways. With just a break of a bottle and a strike of a single match the witch had added a small number of innocent souls to the list of lives taken by her own hands. 

  She watched on with dark obsession as her pale pink lips twisted into a demonic smirk growing wider with every scream and cry of agony that echoed off of the deteriorating walls and into the milky, ash filled smoked that enveloped around the small confinements of the hellish prison of her own creation.

 “Shouldn’t have charged me double for such a shit drink-” she spat as the wooden floor boards began to crack beneath her boots. With a soft chuckle, she stepped back into the safe, clean air of the night. Flames still reflecting a venomous glow as she continued to stare on as she backed away from the crime scene. With sirens bellowing in the night, above the roar of the flames and screams of fear and death, the witch took it upon herself to call it a night, calmly stepping away from the obvious case of arson.

 With a sigh, she placed an unlit cigarette between her still smirking lips, lighting the end with a match from the box linked to the burning building, “shouldn’t have double charged me…” she breathed, “Shouldn’t have double charged me…” 

Calvin X Reader - First Herb

A/N I know alot of people don’t really like the thought of marijuana, but I’ve kinda wanted to write a cute story like this, so I’m going to. If the use of drugs bothers you please don’t read. TW? Also sorry this is so late. I had so much shit to do today.

“Cal, why does it smell like skunk ass?” you asked, watching as Calvin filled the glass pipe with green herb.  

You couldn’t help but pinch your nose in an attempt to flee the lingering smell in your room. 

Calvin shrugged, focusing on the bowl he was packing with a steady hand, “Dunno. It’s a plant. Plants smell. This plant just happens to get you high.”

You chuckled a bit at the brown eyed boy’s response and watched as he continued to add little bits of bud to the “bowl.” 

“Why is it called a bowl, though?” you chirped, getting a bit anxious.

You had never smoked before so all of this was so new to you and you couldn’t help but be curious. 

Calvin shook his head, amused by the questions, “It just is. You know how a bowls can hold cereal or soup? This bowl hold weed.”

Satisfied with your answer you looked at what Calvin had set out for this “special occasion.” To the left of him sat a small container filled with a green-purple bud that Calvin had said was one of the better strains. Next to the bud was his orange lighter, and in his hands was a multicolored glass pipe you were about to smoke out of.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Calvin questioned, closing up the herb and holding out the pipe to you.

Slowly you grabbed the pipe and looked at all the holes, still a bit confused on how to use the thing.

“I mean, yeah. I want to try, but in all honestly I don’t remember how you told me to do it.” you admitted, looking to your experienced boyfriend for advice.

You knew pot wasn’t Calvin’s favorite thing in the world but he did know more about the entire process than you. When you had first asked him about smoking he looked taken aback but soon realized you were serious and felt you had a decent reason to smoke for the first time. Never had you been interested by drugs but you had been stressing over finals and you needed to relax, and Calvin, being completely supportive of the idea, hooked you up right away.

“Like this, [Y/N].” Calvin demonstrated, drawing your attention back to him.

He took the pipe from your hands and placed his lips on stem of the pipe, covering the hole on the side. 

Lightly taking his mouth off the instrument, Calvin continued, “Now when you light the bud make sure to let the smoke build in your mouth before letting your finger off the carb. And-”

“What’s the carb?” you deadpanned, cutting him off.

Calvin sighed, having told you all of this a few nights ago, “The hole on the bowl. Anyways, once you let off the carb make sure to inhale straight into your lung. Got it?”

Though you weren’t sure if you had it, you nodded anyways, anxious to get started.

Like Clavin had showed you, you put your lips on the end of the stem, and covered the “carb.”

You took the bright colored lighter from Calvin, quickly lighting the bud, and holding it till the herb began to burn decently.

You inhaled slightly and started to feel a milky smoke fill your mouth, before you lifted your finger from the carb and inhaled feeling the smoke enter deep into your lungs. 

Though the initial inhale felt fine, the final burned your throat causing you to cough, the smoke existing your lungs and entering the room.

“Too. Much,” is all you could say between choking coughs.

Calvin laughed and patted your back as you hacked up a lung, “Don’t worry. You just hit it too hard. It’s your first time, so smaller hits is probably better.”

The brown haired boy handed you a glass of water that you snatched and gulped vigorously.

Once done, you wiped your lips and looked at Calvin a bit upset, “Wish you had told me that before. That didn’t feel near as good as it’s always made out to be.”

“It was your first hit ever. It was more likely than not going to hurt. Try again but this time pull a little less smoke. It should go down smoother and take some strain off your throat,” he suggested. 

You took is advice and pulled lighter on your next hit. The feeling still burned your throat but no where near as hard as the first. You exhaled through your nose and you could feel the thick smoke as it existed.

After a few more hits you could start to feel the effects, your body becoming warm and light.

“Cal, this feels good,” you exclaim with a big smile, “I wanna do this more often.”

Calvin chuckled and took the pipe from you seeing as you cleared it, and watched at you enjoyed your time.

Effortlessly you grabbed onto his hand and looked at him still smiling widely, “I’m just so happy, Calvin. This was a really good idea.”

“Well I wouldn’t have let you do it if it was a bad idea, babe.” Calvin confessed, pulling away from your grip and packing a new bowl for himself. 

The boy, having smoked for some time now, cleared his bowl in far less hits than you, and soon you both were sat on your bed higher than kites. Calvin walked over to his computer and put on his playlist, the music sounding even better than when you were sober. It was as if you could every beat pulse through your body, and out into the room.

As you and Calvin road out your high, you could see Calvin’s eyes being blood shot and you wondered if yours look similar, only being able to feel yourself squinting. 

Though you couldn’t see the visual effects of smoking you could feel the mental and physical aspects. When you would walk it felt like you were on a cloud, as if everything was a dream. When you swayed to the music you felt weightless. All stress was gone and you felt like smoke in the wind, carefree and alive.

A few hours had passed and you and Calvin were getting considerable comfortable on the couch as you played video games.

“You feeling tired?” Calvin asked, half distracted by his hoodie strings.

“A little,” you noted, yawning, and sat the game controller on the end table beside you. 

Calvin stood and made his way to the closet and not soon after returned with a large blanket.

“Yeah,” Calvin agreed, “ It’s the shittiest part of the high. The come down is just so draining.”

The brown eyed boy covered you with the blanket and set next to you covering himself, both of your heads lazing back in exhaustion.

Not soon after both of you were knocked out, Calvin having found his way under your arm and cuddling into your chest. 

Though the come down was exhausting, as Calvin had said, the experience was definitely good and you were glad you got to spend it with Calvin. 

Favorite moment with daddy

Even though I haven’t been with daddy very long, I’ve already made some memorable moments with him. My favorite being one night during aftercare. This was my first experience with aftercare in person (ever, not just in this relationship.) He let me relax for a bit, helping me clean up, then told me to go to the bathroom and basic things like that, and I found him in the kitchen searching for a sippy to fill with milkies. I have never had a daddy do that for me. We were going to go outside but I left my coat upstairs so he went to the trouble to find one of his. It fit like a dress on me and he also grabbed a blanket and I sat in his lap with his coat, a blanket, and a sippy in hand while we watched the stars. Best. Night. Ever. Best. Daddy. Ever. I love you @zenpanda292

People are not cement you can pour into the tiny cracks in your heart.
You cannot make someone the Milky Way meant to fill the starless voids within you.
Simply because humans must grow.
Like plants in a city sidewalk, they will shift and push in their desire to reach the sun, making the cracks in your heart widen.
Like galaxies they will infinitely expand until you cannot possibly keep them within you.
—  “people aren’t meant to be fillers” // dionne sims

Blue Tears and the Milky Way : Lapping at rocks along the shore of the Island of Nangan, Taiwan, planet Earth, waves are infused with a subtle blue light in this sea and night skyscape. Composed of a series of long exposures made on April 16 the image captures the faint glow from Noctiluca scintillans. Also known as sea sparkles or blue tears, the marine planktons bioluminescence is stimulated by wave motion. City lights along the coast of mainland China shine beneath low clouds in the west but stars and the faint Milky Way still fill the night above. Over the horizon the galaxys central bulge and dark rifts seem to echo the rocks and luminous waves. via NASA


Where no man has gone before….

The Milky Way fills the night sky from the cockpit….as a Boeing 737 makes its flight across the face of planet Earth at 36,000 feet.

Someday….this will be the view from the cockpit/flight deck of, perhaps, the Starship Enterprise….as it transits the face of our galaxy….36 light-years from planet Earth….

Going where no man (or woman) has gone before….


>>CLICK the photo for a much bigger view out the window….

>>Photo: Martijn Kort