wing expansion

shades of wrong (m)

Summary: In which you’re sure you’ll hate Park Jimin with every fiber of your being for the rest of your existence, even after he is assigned your tutor for History of Magic.
Pairing: Jimin | Reader
Genre: Fluff/Smut; Harry Potter AU 
Word Count: 17,321
Author’s Note: This got insanely long, and I apologize but also not really. Inspired by @jeonbegins + her really dope HP Slytherin Jimin AU edit. I also had a little conversation with @minsvga about this and she helped me figured out the basic idea for what this story has become; and @chokemejimin has asked to be tagged in my HP work so here you go my dear!!!

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No matter how hard you try, it seems as if you are always bested by Park Jimin in every aspect of life: from Quidditch to school to class popularity.

And you absolutely despise him for it.

Granted, it’s probably because he’s always simply excelled in everything while you could only manage the minimum requirement for things outside of the sport you’ve grown to be so passionate about—but that’s only deepened your dislike for the boy. It’s been like this since the pair of you were children, a rivalry already planted between you even before you knew what the term meant. Truthfully, it was pretty much written in the stars that you would develop some deep-rooted grudge against Jimin, for he was organized into Slytherin while you were put in the fiery red and gold of Gryffindor.

Beyond the clashing Houses that have officially formed your backgrounds, it doesn’t help that the boy has seemed to uphold a particular interest in doing whatever he could to see you fidget or watch you squirm or just catch you at your worst moments—although you humor yourself on the idea that these unfortunate incidents occur to you because of Park Jimin’s constant hovering. It’s a habit that’s grown since the first week of your admission into Hogwarts, in which your big mouth scored you your first detention with the infamous Professor Snape.

It’s a moment that marks the beginning of an unspoken battle between the pair of you—in which you would constantly attempt to prove yourself better than Park Jimin and Park Jimin doing everything he could to make sure you could never have that victory. During the first two years of school, this would mean beating you on every exam, knowing the answers to every question and teasing you for not knowing. Professors putting Jimin on a pedestal, marking him up as the ‘ideal student’ and unknowingly intensifying the dagger of hatred you wished to plunge deeper and deeper into his chest.

When you are twelve, you are told that there is certainly no way for you to truly despise of something (or someone)—for you are young and naive and not entirely capable to understand what it means to hate something with every fiber of your being.

But they’re wrong.

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I Understand, and I Obey

Request: “Please could you write a gadreel or Gabriel x reader fic, something to do with his wings? Maybe some jealous or protective gadreel/Gabriel? I don’t have any more specific plot ideas sorry haha I just love wing fics and there aren’t enough out there and you’re such a great writer! Thanks!”

Pairing: Gabriel x Reader

Word Count: 818

Warnings: implied smut and SUPER FLUFF (haha get it because wings are fluffy)

A/n: just a short lil something! I adore wing fics too :D

Originally posted by mebeingbored1

Your fingers ran along the golden feathers of Gabriel’s wings, each stroke eliciting a soft whimper. Blood stained in patches under the deep gashes you tended to; red rivers running through golden valleys. Each touch was a mix of pain and pleasure for him, your fingers tinted from patching up his wounds. He hissed at the pressure, only for the sound to evolve into a low moan when you stroked him sorrily.

“You’re not careful enough.” You scolded him quietly. “You could’ve been killed.”

“What, no ‘thank you Gabriel’? No ‘you’re my hero Gabriel’?” He scoffed, his fiery eyes capturing your attention.

You sent him a sweet smile, leaning over to place a light kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, glorious Gabriel, son of God and all-powerful archangel, I owe you my life.” You pronounced. Gabriel rolled his eyes at your mocking eccentricity. “But really. Thank you.” You huffed. “I’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled brightly, although his mouth fell into an open state as you whisked your fingers across the tops of his wings. “zol ta fa” he cursed under his breath in Enochian.

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Deliberate Beauty of Humanity

Drabble Request by @starswirlblitz: Dean x angel!reader? In which dean plays with her wings and it fluffish/steamy cause she’s ticklish but also has a sensitive spot that makes her squeal sometimes? I hope that’s okay?

Word Count: 1949

A/N: So… this didn’t really turn out as a drabble… I kinda woke up at 3 in the morning and had this itch to write this one and couldn’t go back to sleep until it was out of my head and that’s how you got a full-length oneshot out of this! Also, I just had to write Dean’s POV in first person. It wouldn’t work any other way. I think this is the first time I’ve posted anything in first person on this blog. I hope you like it!

Version en Español: La Deliberada Belleza de la Humanidad


You hoped you never got used to this. You wanted every time to feel just like the first time. Maybe it was that it was a human act, or maybe it was just Dean. Either way, you would never change a thing about any of these moments.

Back when Castiel invited you along to help with the Winchesters, you never dreamed that Dean would ever look at you as more than Castiel’s little sister. You hadn’t known that you even wanted him to see you as anything but an angel. Yet here you were, laying on top of him, feeling the rigid muscles of his body move beneath yours. Bonding with your vessel and becoming one as Castiel had with Jimmy had opened so many doors and opportunities for human feeling and emotion.

It was those very feelings and emotions that you been raised to believe were weaknesses that you couldn’t get enough of now.

Dean’s lips captured yours in a breathtaking kiss. He always had this effect over you. As soon as he pulled you into his room and locked the door behind him, you were right on top of him. Vessels may contain your true form, but it just added to the anticipation and intensity as you were forced to slowly explore each new touch. Some angels saw humanity as a curse, but they were wrong.

Even when your mind wasn’t clouded with Dean’s fingers digging into your skin and his tongue tracing the seam of your lip, you still saw the deliberate beauty of humanity.

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The “I definitely should NOT have birds” starter kit…

So as I’ve looked back on this vague post, alot of people are confused as to why I chose these options for inproper use in parrots. A brief explanation should hopefully clear up some questions you may have.

1. Cage; This shouldn’t be used for housing multiple budgies. This is even too small for a single budgie as a cage used for housing all day long, as it’s easily over crowded and does not offer adequate space for toys and wing expansion. A horizontal flight cage is a much better use of free space and allows room enough for your budgie to stretch its wings. This size ratio can be used as reference to larger birds.

2. Seed; As a primary diet for parrots, this does not offer the nutritional value parrots need out of their day to day diet. A mix of vegetables and fruits is a good accompaniment but switching your birds to pellets/crumbles off of seed is even better. Pellets have been formulated to meet all the daily nutritional needs and can be bought for specific breeds and size of parrots.

3. Millet; This is okay as an occasional treat but if fed daily can be too high in fat content. Your parrot could miss out on proper nutrients as it is an easy stomach filler; therefore consumption of nutritional foods would decrease. Growing and providing your own fresh millet is a healthier alternative.

4. Dowel perches; If they are used as the only source of perching, this can be bad for under the birds feet. Repetitive pressure points can cause ulcers, no muscle excersice and the smooth surface offers no nail trimming value. Opt for natural perches with variations of rough/smooth bark and different widths. Your parrot will also love chew the top layer of bark off the wood.

5. Value pack toys; If used for an inappropriate sized bird with a strong beak can cause lots of issues. These issues can cause injury/lesions as the plastic snaps or breaks under pressure or body weight. The plastic bells can get caught on beaks as they have the little slit, perfect for some curious birds to stick their beaks in and get stuck. The ball trio with the plastic gaps can get toes or feet caught, especially in the moving ball wheel. The plastic can become fraile and snap easy of used for too long. All this situations can be very traumatic and stressful if something does happen with your bird. Plus plastic just isn’t a nice option for chewing.

6. Rope perches  (this includes any fibrous material like happy huts and rope preeners); Birds tend to nibble on these fibres which can be swallowed (even micro fibres)which build up over time causing impaction in the crop, ventriculis (stomach) or intestines. This can result in serious medical emergency. If you provide other other sources of natural chewing materials like dried grass, bark, paper before any chewing on cotton fibres they’re likely to keep your bird occupied away from chewing cotton fibres. Natural ropes such as sisal or hemp are another alternative however in a strong minded chewing bird (like avie) they can cause splinters in the mouth (which I have had to remove with tweezers. This situation does depend on the individual bird. There is definitely not enough education around monitoring birds and cotton fibres

These are here as reccomendations only and i am not in anyway saying you can not use it with your bird its just from past experiences  (making mistakes myself) is the reason i used the images i have.

Devil’s Advocate - Chanyeol X Reader AU Series - Chapter 2


Vampire!Chanyeol X Angel!Reader

Genre: Action, fluff, angst

Warnings: Violence, blood, language

Word Count: 3,721 (tried to make it the same length..oops)

 Previous Chapter | Next Chapter


Before any of your other senses had the chance to return, you were abruptly, involuntarily jerked up from your resting position with the overwhelming need to vomit. You fell off of the small, metal duffel that had been holding you a few feet above the ground, landing in an undignified, feeble lump on a cold concrete floor. You quickly scrambled onto all fours before abrasively upheaving liters of blood onto the ground. Your limbs trembled as you looked around your surroundings in anxiety.

Bars… Space…

A cage.

Your vision waned in and out of focus, but you could clearly make out the outline of metal bars around you. The structure resembled a makeshift attempt at a bird cage, as you had plenty of open space surrounding your bloodied pool in the center. You unsuccessfully gasped for air to refill your lungs as another violent tremor overtook your diaphragm. A steady stream of blood pooled onto the floor once again. Your ears were met with an abrupt creaking of metal and rushed footsteps.

“Aish- He said this would happen.”

You felt a hand against your back and turned your face to the side, only to be met with the red-haired assailant from before.

“W-Why-” Your question was cut off by another vomitous spasm, leaving you more breathless than the last one.

“Shhhh, it’s gonna be okay Angel-cakes, I’m not going to hurt you, just breathe okay? Just breathe.”

You shut out everything else and focused all of your energy on keeping a steady influx of air within your lungs.

After the seventh upheaval of blood, your limbs collapsed from underneath you and you fell against the hunter’s kneeling torso.

“You’re mine now… that’s all that matters.”

Your breathing calmed as another rush of exhaustion hit you like a tidal wave.

“You’re mine, and now I have all the power in the world.”

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Enneagram 8w7 - Seeking Power and Stimulation

Awakened Eights with a 7 wing are often expansive, and powerful. Gregarious and generous, they may display a cheerful bravado. Can be forceful but with a light touch, funny. Often have a sense of humor about themselves. Generally more extroverted, ambitious and materialistic. May talk loud and be sociable partygoers. Sometimes driven to bring the new into being. Can be visionary, idealistic, enterprising. Willing to take risks. May think more clearly than Eights with a 9 wing; 7 wing brings an intellectual capacity. When more entranced, aggression combines with gluttony to form an almost virulent tendency to addiction. Many entranced Eights with a 7 wing have had drug and alcohol problems or tensions around addiction. Prone to temperamental ups and downs - can be moody, egocentric, quick to anger. Tendency to court chaos, inflate themselves narcissistically. Some are ruthlessly materialistic. Can use people up, suck them dry. Maybe be explosive or violent, prone to distorted overreaction.

~~*VSFW*~~

Who has ever seen a pouting angel? His expansive wings lie flat and limp against his back as he lies face down on a pillow. Looking at them up close as you sit next to Luhan on the bed, you realize, they’re not completely white, but have little blonde freckles spotted all over them, especially closer to the top. His voice comes out muffled against the pillow, but when he raises his head, you can hear him more clearly. “They’re going to send me to someone new, soon. I should have known it was going to happen, but I liked being here with you.”
The news was harsh to hear, but you still managed to smile, though it was tinged with sadness at the corners. “Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to comfort me? I’m the one losing my guardian angel.” You fingers trailed wistfully over the strong feathers which adorned his back like a cape to protect him from the world. ‘I’m going to miss you. But you helped me to get away from that darkness I was in. I’m happy now, and stable, with good friends.”
When he flipped over and sat up to look at you, his expression was more hopeful. “I know. They wouldn’t reassign me if they didn’t know you were going to be okay on your own.” He leans over to hug you tightly. “You’re going to be amazing.”

- Admin J

feather fall

[insp]


The most famed of Meisters and Death Scythes historically have larger than average wings. It is assumed, therefore, that all Meisters and Weapons are graced with fortunate, easy, beloved lives, and this translates into either reverence or resentment.

This assumption is false, of course, and more than a little backwards. Meisters and Weapons, good Meisters and Weapons, have to understand their partners far too deeply for anything less than love, the purest and most soulful of love, to feed their wings.


When she enters the DWMA, Maka’s wings are average: not too big, but not too small. She hates her Papa for it, hates that she can’t have the same gloriously fluffy spread as Black☆Star, who claims godhood for his parents’ perfect love, while Papa can’t even love her or Mama, no matter how beautiful Mama’s wings are. It’s an insult every time she spies Papa through glass windows at another restaurant, another date, his wings as impressive and full as those of his partner of the day. (It takes her a long time to realize that her wings do not want for her Papa’s love.)

At meister-weapon mingle, Maka finds herself drawn to a white-haired boy with too sharp teeth and too small wings, frail feathers ruffling resentfully as he stands in the corner of the room. He’s a scythe, and she scythe-meister, and she hears in his music a passion which matches her own, so she shakes the hand of an underloved weapon and becomes his meister.

Days later, Maka accidentally knocks Ox Ford over the head with her wings, larger than she’s used to, and she would apologize if he weren’t so snippy about it, gosh, what’s his problem. (His problem is that his wings are only about half the size of Maka’s, while Kim Diehl’s are large enough to fold protectively around her, cape-like.) Weeks later, as Maka and Soul groom each other as part of post-mission cool down, she notices suddenly how pristine her partner’s feathers have become, how they flutter under her fingers, how the feathers cling more firmly to his wings. Months later, Soul remains Maka’s partner, and Maka remains Soul’s, and their wings have swollen beyond what either of them know how to deal with.


Black☆Star’s wings are larger than Maka’s, but only just, because while Spirit’s love does not quite make up for two parents’ worth, Maka is better at winning strangers’ admiration. It is Tsubaki’s offerings, the first of which takes the form of lonely applause, which make Black☆Star’s wings far greater than Maka’s, at least until the scythe meister finds her scythe.

Tsubaki’s wings swell, too, under Black☆Star’s unwavering support, though she molts, more than either of them expect, when Masamune dies. Black☆Star collects every fallen feather to create a shrine dedicated to the deceased Nakatsukasa.

They retreat from a defeated Mifune with all three pairs of wings that much heavier. Much, much later, Angela’s first hint at Mifune’s passing comes from her new guardians’ wings shedding a not insignificant number of feathers. These, too, are bundled and tied and kept.


At first, Liz and Patty keep one another’s wings brimming and intimidating.

The Thompson Angels terrorize New York City right up to the day Death the Kid finds them, his own shoulders unburdened with wings, though not for lack of love. They sneer and lord over the son of a god, disgusted by a boy they believe is human, and so unloved that his wings are not immediately visible, right up until the moment Liz gets behind him and screams in horror, because one so polished and yet so entirely unloved cannot possibly exist.

A Death God does not begin to earn his wings until he has connected his Lines of Sanzu.

Liz and Patty learn this, of course, as they are dragged to Death City, as they are put to work in a café, as they chase their warden and their customers out of their place of work, as their wings grow larger with Kid’s and Master’s and Tsugumi’s and the city’s affection.

When Lord Death passes, Liz and Patty are the ones who witness the proof of their love for their meister, glorious sable-feathered affairs which swath the new Lord Death like a cloak.


Crona’s wings are expansive but pitch. When the blood filters back into their body, it’s to reveal withered things, drooping and skeletal and fundamentally disturbing.

Maka is horrified. Soul is horrified. Everyone in Death City is horrified, really, but as Spartoi adopts the witch’s child, down sprouts carefully from neglect and decay until finally a few timid feathers begin to poke through freshly granted love.

Their wings only grow, even after they flee Death City and stain their new-granted feathers black and red with blood both theirs and not, and the idea that they are still loved only makes their betrayal cut deeper into their soul. Medusa’s “love” is the last straw: Crona thinks, among other things in their scrambled, tormented mind, that they would rather be wingless than have their mother’s wretched love.

Fallen (Harry Styles)

Harry Styles One Shot

For previous One Shots

NOTE: All of this is completely fictional. The male lead is only being used for physical appearance.

Warnings: Slight sexual content, talk of angels (If you are uncomfortable with any of the following topics, I urge you to not read. Thank you.) 

~Many years ago~ 

He gazed down at the crying child from the tree he was perched in. His wings tucked closely to his body as he watched the little girl wail miserably. All he wanted to do was go through the window and cradle her in his strong arms. 

He wanted to hold her there and rock her back and forth, his wings keeping her warm as they came around the both of them. He wanted to see her big eyes look at him and he wanted to feel her little heart beating as she rested against his chest.

He wanted to stop her whimpers and kiss her cheeks to make her babble contently again. Her parents were exhausted from all of the crying and were sleeping heavily, oblivious to her cries. He had rolled his eyes when he had gone to see them through their window. 

They lay there in a heap of sleeping masses. Content expressions on their aged faces. Having a baby was hard work and they required the attention that they were not giving her at this moment. 

After thinking it over he decided to just go in for a moment and soothe her before leaving. He reached over and opened the window easily, hoping from the tree and into the nursery smoothly. 

He went over to her bassinet and looked down at this little angel, his little angel. She looked up at him miserably and her cheeks were coated in tears. It made him angry that her parents were ignoring their daughter but he shrugged his annoyance with the humans off as he picked up the baby. 

She quieted immediately when he held her close. She rested on his chest and blinked drowsily as held onto his finger tightly. His wings rustled and frightened her because she began to cry again. Loud wails filled the room and the harsh sound touched his ears. 

He kissed her forehead several times and shushed her, his white wings coming around her to create a cocoon of feathers. Curiosity got the best of her and she hesitantly reached out to touch them. 

When she had felt how soft they were she couldn’t keep her tiny hand off of them. She held on tight to one as she had with his finger. She pulled lightly and one of them came off. The large white feather was plucked from her grasp as Harry took it from her before she placed it in her mouth. 

He smiled down at her and gave her another kiss on her forehead. She gave him a toothless smile and rested her head back down on his bare chest. He put her little hand on his chest right next to his heart and stayed still. 

She blinked several times as he ran his fingers down her back, holding her tightly to him and making sure she was warm enough. She let out a tiny puff of air and snuggled more into him. 

His bare skin warm and pulsing heartbeat lulling her back to sleep. When he was sure she was fully sleeping he gave her a kiss on the nose and placed her back in the bassinet. 

He looked around the room he had seen many times before and walked back over to the window and climbed out. He still stayed on the tree as he watched her sleep. There was only a nightlight that illuminated the room and gave it a pale white glow. 

He looked away and up towards the sky as there was a clap of thunder. His gaze shifted back to his angel and he listened to see if her breathing had faltered from the sound. He let out a sigh of relief when he heard she was still resting. 

He rose, standing on the tree branch, before jumping down. Once he hit the ground and made sure no one was watching or around, he extended his wings fully. They quivered and the feathers ruffled in the breeze. 

He touched the pendent on his neck and gave on last look at his angels house before vanishing in thin air. As soon as he left the child began to wail for him again. 

~~~

“You’ve failed me boy!” Garrett yelled down to him with a pained expression. His body shook with anger as Harry stood there held by two other angels. 

He stood tall, grey wings at full expanse behind him. His gold eyes were ablaze as he stared down at his creation. Harry looked straight back and all he could feel was contempt ooze from his creators stance. 

“You’ve broken the rules.” He said mournfully as Harry stood still. His wings were out to their full span and soon Harry was being brought to his knees. He could feel hands holding him down while other hands touched his wings. 

“I’m sorry my boy, but you know the rules. You’ve exposed yourself to a human! A filthy human at that. Is she worth being thrown out? Sent to live down there with the great masses of them?” Garrett yelled down to him and Harry fought the hands holding him down. He pushed them off and stood up to his creator. 

“She is not filth!” He screamed and stormed up to his creator, looking Garrett dead in the eyes as he spoke his next words. 

“I would rather live my existence down on earth with her then the filth that resides here.” He spat and then Harry was thrown to the ground. 

He felt pressure on his wings and soon all he felt was pain. Hot, blazing pain rushed through his body and all he could do was lay there as his wings were ripped from his body. He screamed several times in sheer anger and pain as he lay helpless as his only link to this part of him was ripped away.

Tears leaked from his eyes as he was carried out of the throne room. The open area where angels could travel down to the mortal world was open and Harry was held right beside it. He had just stood here earlier, under much different circumstances then now.  

“Oh my boy, such a fool. You’re such a fool.” His creator spoke mournfully and dropped Harry right off the edge, leaving him to fall right down to the cold hard ground that earth provided. 

~Present~

You tapped your foot nervously as you knocked on his door, waiting for him to come and answer it. The weather outside was freezing and rain was pouring down in sheets as you stood on his doorstep for him. 

You held your books tightly as you shuffled on your feet. Your coat was damp and you let out a long sigh and was about to leave but the door opened. 

There stood your history partner Harry in nothing but low slung sweats and no shirt. His longer hair was over to the side and he didn’t say a word but moved over to let you in. 

His house was warm and you placed your books on his table as you shrugged out of your coat. Your shirt had stayed dry as you placed your coat on the chair beside you. You turned to look at Harry but he was no longer in the room. 

You picked up your books and went to go sit on his living room couch but his voice from behind you stopped your movements. 

“We’ll be working in my room.” His voice was deep and raspy, as though he had just gotten up from bed. You nodded at him and followed him up the stairs. They creaked in certain places and the rail was shaky but you didn’t mind as you walked with him down the dark hallway. 

His door was open so you both walked right in. You looked about and saw that it was very minimalistic. Just a bed, two nightstands, a desk, and dresser took up the room furniture wise. There were no photos or personal items around except for the clock that rested on one of the nightstands and a few lamps here and there.  

You sat on the edge of his large bed, your fingers running over the soft grey duvet. You looked up at him shyly as he was standing by the doorway watching you. He was always watching you. 

“Do you want to sit down?” You asked him softly and he made his way to sit down. He sat as far away from you as possible and it hurt your feelings that he didn’t like you. You two weren’t friends just partners on this project together. You had tried to be civil with him and engage him in conversation but he just was too moody and snapped at random times. 

Rumors of him being dangerous went around and part of you believed them.  The whispers in the hallways always greeted your ears as you walked down them. 

People would say they felt sorry for you since you had to work with him. 

They would share the stories of him and all of the supposed bad things he had done. Rumors of him going crazy at parties and picking up random girls was common among them. People would say the drinks would run heavy when he was around. He was bad news, very bad news. 

You choose not to listen to them with too much of a narrow mind but somethings were hard to ignore when they were thrust in your face. You two had barely spoken more then 10 minutes the entire time you had known him but something about you must not sit well with him since he could be the most cruel at times. 

He was not an inviting person to talk to and he would overreact at the slightest things all the time in class. He had a temper that you had been told about, not by a peer but from a staff member. He scared you but you tried to not let that affect your project in any way. 

“So I did some outlining for the project and I really think we should focus on the Victorian Era, it’s quite fascinating.” You mumbled as you looked up him. 

He had a hard look on his face but his eyes were soft as they gazed at you. You felt your heart pick up and for the most odd reason whenever you were around him it felt as though a piece of you was his. There was no way to explain the connection you felt with him but it was there, and it sure burned bright. 

“That’s fine.” He said and stood up, walking over to what you assumed was his closet. You didn’t notice before but there was two narrow scars carved into his back. You gasped when you saw the bright angry red cuts and his head whipped around to see if you were alright. 

“What is it?” He asked tightly and you just shook his voice off. 

“Your back. What happened to your back?” You questioned lowly but it was though he heard you loud and clear. He quickly pulled out a shirt and threw it over his head. When it was on he turned and came towards you, walking fast until he stood right in front of you. 

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers too.” He spat and opened his door. “Leave.” He said to you and you grabbed your things before walking right past him. You jogged down his stairs and grabbed your coat, not even bothering to put it on as you went over to his front door and opened it up. 

Rain and lightning were now happening and the thunder claps the sky gave away were loud as can be as you left his house. You were soaked by the rain but you didn’t care as all you wanted to do was leave. 

You could do the project on your own and you didn’t need to be spoken rudely too by him. 

You tossed your things into the back seat of your car and was about to open the drivers door when a hand on your arm stopped you. Your back hit the the car as you were pressed right up against it. Harrys hair was matted against his face and water ran right down his face, going between his pink lips as he stared down at you. 

“Why do you hate me?” You said loudly over the pouring rain. You were hurt and you wanted him to know that. 

“What the hell did I ever do to you?” You screamed but were cut off by him crashing his lips down on yours. 

A spark of heat ran down your body as you shivered against him, your hands griping his biceps as he kissed you right there. 

His lips moved against yours and you couldn’t marvel enough at how soft they were. His arms came around your waist as he picked you up and set you on the hood of your car. Your hands wound in his hair and you gave him access to explore your mouth. 

He kissed you deeper then before and pressed his body more into yours as you locked your ankles around his back. 

He broke away from your lips and pressed them long your neck, pushing your wet hair behind your shoulders. His tongue licked over the skin here before his mouth began to suck little red marks onto the area. 

It felt as though the contact he was giving would be forever imprinted in your mind. You used to think just the mild brush of your hands was enough to make your heart flutter but now it was full on pounding. You couldn’t get enough of him and nor he you. 

He pulled away from you all together and pulled your bodies closer, placing your foreheads together.  

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for that.” He breathed out and momentarily you forget everything else and lived in that moment, right there. His hands coming up to cup your cheeks, the water running down both your faces, the softness of his skin against yours. 

“I don’t hate you, I can’t hate you.” He said to you as he held you close. You rested your head on his chest as his fingers ran down her back. It sparked feelings in you that you couldn’t describe but you just simply let it be. 

~~~

You laughed at what Harry was saying as you sat knee to knee on the school bench. Your laughter carried in the breeze as he kept his hand in yours. You looked down at your conjoined hands and smiled at the sight. 

Glancing up through your lashes to peek at him only to find him gazing in the distance. He had a hardened look in his eyes but when he noticed you staring at him it softened slightly. With one last glance in the distance Harry fully turned back to you and spoke. 

“Come on lets go over to your house.” 

“There is still one last period of the day-” he cut you off with a kiss. You could feel him smile into you as you melted against him. 

“It’s your study hall angel, now come on or we’ll get caught.” He winked and pulled you to stand with him. You both made your way to his car. Harry had decided to get a car seeing as you were uncomfortable with his bike. 

As you settled into your seat Harry held your hand as he drove to your house. Your parents wouldn’t be home until later that night due to work so it would only be the two of you. 

He pulled into your driveway and you both got out. As you unlocked your door his arms came around your waist and he picked you up, carrying your throughout the house and up to your room. 

You shivered as he placed you down on your bed. Your room the same as it had been before you left, clothes here and there, books tossed in random places. 

Harry strolled about the room and was going through your jewelry box, a gift from him, before he stopped his movements. 

“What’s this?” He questioned as he pulled out the large white feather you had always had. You jumped up and took it from his grasp, holding it close to you. 

It was still as soft as always, no matter how many times you had touched it. Your parents always said that the feather had to have come from an angel since it was sound next to you when you were a baby one morning. 

“It’s my feather.” You said softly as you pet your finger over it. You moved Harry to the side and opened the box again and placed it delicately inside. 

“I’ve had it since I was a baby. My parents found it next to me when I was sleeping one morning.” Something in Harry’s expression faltered as he turned away from you and went to sit on your bed. He seemed harder then he had been moments before so you were hesitant to move next to him and touch his shoulder.  

He jumped at the contact of your hand touching him and his whole body turned to face you. 

“What kind of feather is that?” He asked tightly and you furrowed your brows at him. What a dramatic shift if behavior. 

“My parents always joked about it being an angels feather… I always thought so too.” You said to him and his expression turned blank. 

“Do you believe in them?” He questioned sharply. 

“Them?”

“Angels, ones that still hold rank and the ones that have fallen?” He asked desperately and you nodded your head at him. He pushed off of the bed and paced around with a tight expression. Suddenly he took off his shirt and pulled you to a standing position. 

“Do you remember how you asked me what the scars on my back meant? When I tell you you’re not going to want to have anything to do with me.” He choked out and turned so that his back faced you. 

“Touch them.” Your hand had a mind of its own as it reached up to touch the scar on his left side. 

It was jagged and an angry red color that had your stomach drop from within you. They were rough under your smooth fingertips and when you pressed down lightly Harry hissed loudly. 

“What are they from?” You breathed. He turned back around and took your forgotten hands. He looked so torn and serious in that moment that you knew whatever he said was not to be taken lightly. 

“I’m one of the fallen.” His voice shook and his façade fell apart as he pulled you to his chest. In some way your mind registered his motives as ones that he used to calm down, you being the first cure. 

“The fallen? As in a fallen angel?” You had to make sure that was what he was speaking off. He nodded against your head. 

“Do you not believe me?” He asked as he face was buried in your hair. 

“What happened? What made you fall?” 

“I was bad, I broke the rules.” He spoke with much venom as he let go of you and took a few steps back. His body was pressed against your dresser as he stared into space, speaking of what happened. 

“My creator wasn’t happy with me. Dropped me himself, said that was what had to happen.” 

“Why did it have to happen?” You whispered as his eyes flittered to meet your wide ones. 

“I fell for a human. At the time she was no more then months old, but she still had me. Do you know that even angels have what you humans consider ‘soul mates?’ Well I found mine and my creator wasn’t happy that I dropped everything to get a glimpse of her.” 

He continued speaking to you as he just stared unmoving. 

“The night I was thrust out of my home I had just visited her. She wouldn’t stop crying and when I held her she quieted immediately. I still had my wings then so when the came around us she pulled a feather out. I placed it next to her before I left her. I didn’t know that would be one of the last times I saw her that close, I didn’t know that would be the last time I could hold her until a few months ago. I didn’t think I’d be able to hold her, kiss her, stand less then 2 feet away from her.” He stepped closer to you and your could feel your heart hammering in your chest. 

“I didn’t know she’d ever be mine.” He touched your cheeks lightly before pressing his lips to yours. You both fell back onto your bed, him on top of you. 

“You are mine, my little angel.” He continued to kiss you and suddenly there was a shift in the room. Things became more heated as his hands traveled from your face to your shirt buttons. 

He popped open the first one open and as your legs wrapped around his waist he opened the rest of them. 

You ran your lips up and down his neck as he touched your bare skin. His hands lightly tracing the edge of your bra, and them moving down to the edge of your pants. 

Your breathing because more shallow as he rubbed at your hips. He brought your face back to meet his and he pressed a kiss on your forehead before he caught your hands in one of his and he placed them above your head and he kissed you again. 

“Harry,” you gasped as soon as you could speak. he looked at you expectantly. 

“Yes my angel?” He asked as he kissed the area below your collar bones. His lips were so soft against your skin that you couldn’t get the sensation out of your mind. You felt the coolness of his necklace touch your heated skin and your hand snaked between your chest and his to grab ahold of it. 

“What is this?” You asked out of nowhere. He propped himself up on his elbows and kissed your nose before speaking. 

“I’ve had it since I was an angel.” You fingered the chain lightly and peered up at him. He looked so content, very unlike he usually did. Sharing his past with you, what he was had opened doors for him to be who he was. 

He sat up and his hands reached around his neck and unclasped his necklace. He reached around your neck and placed it around you. 

It felt cold around your neck though Harry was just wearing it. As you touched it, sparks ran down your hand and a coldness seeped there as well. 

“I love you,” he said as you still held his pendent tightly in your grasp. You smiled over at him and crawled closer, straddling him. You placed your forehead against his and grinned at him, the necklace dangling between the both of you. 

“I love you too.” 

“Oh my little angel,” the kiss he shared with you was one that’s never been shared before. There was no lust, no heated attack on your lips. No it was just plain love; warmth flooded your body as you just held him to you. 

~~~

You both laid there, sitting in the tree right outside your window as you looked up at the stars above you. 

“Do you ever miss it?” 

“No, I quite like it down here. You’re down here.” 

“I swear you were never this sappy when I didn’t know what you were.”

“I wasn’t sappy last night.” You blushed as heated memories came rushing back to you. 

Your back pressed against the door, his lips just about everywhere as well his hands. Your shirts had been lost somewhere down stairs and he was working on getting your pants off. 

Once he did his hands dipped inside to explore, leaving you a moaning mess right in front of him. You clutched onto him as his finger slide over your slit. You could feel your wetness pooling out of you as his finger slide into your folds, teasing your opening. 

“Do you want my finger angel?" 

"Yes,” you whimpered and you felt his finger slide into you. Your walls clung to his fingers as he slowly worked it in and out of you at a leisurely pace. You lifted your hips to meet his finger and he added in another. 

“More.” You moaned and he moved his fingers at a faster rate inside you. You rested your head on his chest as you felt your release about to hit. 

You gasped when you finally came, his fingers riding you through your orgasm.

“Are you even listening to me angel?” You broke away from your playback of last night and looked at your fallen angel. 

“What did you say?” He laughed loudly and nuzzled his face in the crook of you neck. 

“I love you.” He murmured and you melted right there. 

“Love you.” 

Something that came to mind a bit earlier! I hope you have enjoyed this piece. 

~REQUESTS ARE OPEN~

Please let me know your thoughts and request ideas! Send them in HERE.

As always, thank you for reading xx-Samantha 

Counting Stars

(on A03)

Dean Winchester has always been fascinated by stars.

He still remembers the first time he went stargazing with his Mom and Dad and baby brother Sam. The Winchesters walked through the dense woods behind their home, a secluded and dark place, ideal for laying on a soft bed of pine needles and watching trillions of celestial beings dance above one’s head. The memory of that night remains clearly in Dean’s mind. The fresh smell of pine surrounding him, rustling of branches and leaves in the wind and the soft murmuring of his parents’ voices a few feet away. The stars stood out so clearly that night, twinkling beacons forming shapes and patterns in the ebony sky thousands upon thousands miles above his head. Dean felt like he was sitting on a cloud, privy to a brief glimpse of the heavens. 

Dean decided right then and there to never go a day without allowing himself a few minutes in the evenings before he fell asleep to sit on his windowsill and stare out at the constellations. For some reason watching the stars made him feel at peace. 

When Dean started kindergarten that fall, he liked to sneak off to the library and curl up behind the shelves absorbing as much information as possible on stars and their origins. The more knowledge he gained, he became convinced that stars were not merely burning suns, created out of matter, but angels from heaven. Angels had to sleep sometime, Dean thought so they must have their own designated spot in the night sky to sleep for a few days, recharge then resume to flying around and completing their heavenly duties. It was the only explanation.

During his many hours spent in the school’s library, Dean looked at countless maps of stars, tracing their shapes with his tiny fingers and memorizing their names. However, one star situated directly east of the North Star was unnamed. Dean claimed that star as his own. He didn’t name it, he would one day but the name had to be absolutely perfect. Dean didn’t understand why this particular star caught his eye, it didn’t shine brighter and it wasn’t larger than any of the others in the sky. There was just something about this star that called to him.

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4

A few more illustrations from my forthcoming book The Vulvic Trans-Missionary:

Logoi Spermatikoi - The Seed of Creation…

Thanatos-Mind…

The Convocation…

The Devil Holds Dominion…

The Vulvic Trans-Missionary is a re-imagining of primal myth. Reaching backwards in time to bring forth and present a cohesive ideological perspective upon the perennial creation myth, its point of origin, and its basis in an essential and yet hidden a-cosmic gnosis. A short treatise and examination of the Void as substratum-of-being and an investigation into the mythical and cosmological traditions of various cultures throughout history. Herein offered as a mask, a visage, a vast array of images and prose giving face and voice to the Sacred Feminine as manifestation and personification of Nothingness; the darkness as both womb and tomb of all being.

‘O’ thou Illuminating Initiatrix…
Thy stellar chrism baptises the universe in ecstatic
revelation - cosmic self bursting forth from dark womb -
…in cycles of manifestation brought to bear upon the the
mind of Man! Glorious radiations of gnostic luminosity
enflame the heart: burning the finite self to ashes
…from which the Phoenix-Self rises upon wings of nebulous
splendor in expansive flight across the gulfs of space! Thy
dark soul singing celestial songs calling all spirits from
the flesh - to blossom forth under Midnight’s Sun!

*Text & images © Patrick J. Larabee & Aeon Sophia Press

red wine, velvet, dark
raise your voice in song
glossy ivy leaves twined in a crown
grapevines, dusky, sprawling
inrushing twilight, tattered shadows
a torchflame dances in the air
damp heat, breath, a press of lips
to flushed skin, a hint of teeth
flicker of light in the night air
a winged expanse, shameless cries
gleaming through it all like her golden thread,
his husky voice, sweet, sweet

Dragons need love too // Anna

Hawkeye loathed this human form. How fleshy and weak  he became. it was annoying in the least. He missed his protective scales and expansive wings. He had forgotten how miserable foot travel was. He almost pitied these humans. Almost. They were too idiotic to be pitied. 

Despite his hatred of this form and belief that human were merely fodder for his kind, he sought out a companion of the highest sort, a bride. Armed in fancy clothes stolen from his raids on the town and a mere handful of his gigantic gold pile  he made his way up to the tower to request the King’s own daughter for her hand in marriage, having over enough to pay the dowry. Haven’t never even met the girl, he assumed that she would be of highest class and just right for him. A quiet girl who knew her place would solve all his problems.

The Fault in Traveling to Stars

mermaidmaham asked me a great question about Intergalactic space exploration… could it be possible? How would we do it?

It’s true. Galaxies tend to be really really far away.

To understand the scope of this task knowing the perspective is critical.

The distance to Mars, our next door neighbor: 140,000,000 miles on average. That’s you and two or three astronaut friends drifting through 140 million miles of black space. Stuck in a cramped little ship, living off of what’s essentially worse food than what you got in middle school cafeterias (hint, look up what an MRE is).

The trip happens at orbital velocity. This is because we can’t carry enough fuel on spaceships to travel straight to your destination, you need to orbit into the planet. On average this would take six months to do.

You’d need to be ready to sit in a cramped spaceship for six months. Six months of plain and rationed food. Six months worth of toilet paper, medical supplies, six months of the same view out your window (and stepping out of the vehicle wouldn’t be much of a break).

Six months of the same two or three people. Just imagine a six month long road trip with three people where you aren’t allowed to stop for food anywhere or get out of the car. Cabin god damned fever.

Finally - you reach Mars. Sometimes it’s colder than Antarctica. There’s no taking your space suit off. Chances are you’ll be there for a long time doing science and investigating the planets history.

After all that traveling you’d only spend a week or two on Mars because it doesn’t orbit as fast as the Earth: if you don’t leave soon Earth will have orbited to the other side of the Sun and you’d have to wait another 20 months before launching to return home.

Once you finally leave Mars to go home, you’re stuck in the cramped ship for another half a year.

That’s a whole lot of trouble and it would cost more money than I care to imagine.

Just to go to Mars: 140,000,000 miles away.

Now, the nearest spiral galaxy is the Andromeda Galaxy. It’s 15,000,000,000,000,000,000 miles away: that’s 15 quintillian miles.

I bet that number’s so big, lots of you haven’t even heard it before.

Lets put it this way. Anything with mass, even a single atom can’t travel at the speed of light. Light is the fastest thing we know of. It would take a photon of light 2,500,000 years to get to Andromeda.

A photon of light doesn’t need fuel, food, toilet paper, entertainment or exercise machines. For the moment, intergalactic space exploration is not simply difficult but - and I mean literally - unimaginably hard. We do not know how it could be possible.

Of course there are some ways to sort of “work smarter, not harder” and trust me, we’re working on it.

For example, solar sails. We could put huge expansive wings on our ships that ride starlight. Even so, with the need for fuel greatly eliminated, we couldn’t move at the speed of light.

Hell, even if we could somehow move at the speed of light, by the time we got to the Andromeda Galaxy humanity would’ve almost certainly evolved into a totally different species. What stepped onto that ship, would be extremely different from what stepped off - presuming we sent a ship where the astronauts procreated.

The most plausible way to travel to another galaxy (and this is saying something) would be through a wormhole.

Wormholes are entirely hypothetical with absolutely NO experimental evidence to support their existence. The idea is that, since we know mass can bend space-time, instead of moving through all of it, you just keep bending it until the space between us and the galaxy has been eliminated through this strange bridge-hole thing.

Of course even if wormholes are possible, traveling through one is as unlikely as traveling through a black hole. Mass creates gravitational force. If you create something capable of bending space-time itself, I wouldn’t bet my life on the spaceship not getting ripped apart by tidal forces.

So long story short: intergalactic travel seems mostly impossible with the caveat of “We don’t really know everything” so unless something like wormholes become feasible we’re stuck in the Milky Way.

A Dragon and his Princess

glitter-tornado

The storm howled with the force of a dragon’s wings, wind and rain battering the stone relentlessly. The old dragon stared out at the storm, his heart beating in time to the incessant lightning strikes and their following rumbles of thunder. He was sitting in what had once been the gate to a castle. The castle had been built on a outcropping in the side of a mountain, with a long, winding road the only way up to the gate, and had been one of his conquests when he was younger and the fire in his belly burned brighter.

The castle was connected to a system of tunnels large enough for a dragon to move freely through them, even a dragon of his size. He was proud of his size, the great strength that resided in each of his limbs. He was proud of his scales, the same shimmering color as the gold coins that filled his treasure room. He was proud of his wings, two leathery expanses each twice the length of his massive body when unfurled. He was proud of his fangs and claws, sharp enough to tear through metal and stone with ease. Most importantly, he was proud of his breath, his fire that could melt anything.

But for all his pride, he did little. He was old, and raiding towns and villages no longer held much pleasure for him. His treasure horde was larger than that of any other dragon he knew, and he had no need for more. He could now sleep for decades before the hunger in his belly forced him to hunt. These days his time not spent in deep sleep was spent watching.

This night he watched as a large group of humans, royals he guessed from their attire, struggling through the storm. They moved along the base of the road that skirted the edge of his mountain, no idea that a dragon lived in the old ruined castle above them. He supposed they could have made a good meal, but he was not hungry, so he let them past without trouble. He turned around and stomped deeper into his tunnels, down to his treasure room deeper into the mountain.

What he did not know was that one of his smaller tunnels, though still very large for humans, one long forgotten since he had stopped being able to fit through it long ago, opened up near where the procession was moving. Not could he have possibly imagined that a small human could find this tunnel and find their way into his treasure room.

Love in the Time of the Gods: Chapter 6

         A/N: Many thanks go out to my beta, my graphic designer, and the Mulan to my Ruby, Biana (aka @biancaros3  ). Without you, this fic wouldnt be what it is today. And thank you to everyone who has continues with this story. And if you catch the Galavant reference, kudos to you. ;) Enjoy!

from the beginning: ff.net / AO3

            Over the next four days, Killian and Emma’s developed a routine.

           Every morning, Pestilence would escort Emma to the dining hall and where she and Killian ate breakfast with each other. From there, Killian took it upon himself to show Emma even more of his palace. Even though he never had any visitors, each wing of his expansive castle held nearly twenty rooms, each modeled after a different gemstone or precious metal. The Rose Quartz room was quite possibly her favorite, then the Sapphire, and then Tourmaline. Emma currently occupied the Emerald room, but because he felt it might have seemed too dark for her, he created the opal bed and armoire to brighten it up for her. Killian asked her if she wanted to switch to any of the other rooms, but she declined. That was the room that he had picked out for her—the one that he painstakingly crafted items for her stay—so felt too attached to leave.

           “Which one is your room?” Emma blurted out in the middle of their exploration. She had no idea what came over her, asking such a personal question like that. She felt so embarrassed, but he simply smiled at her, and said, “My room is actually on the first floor.”

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