#Fusion Of Sense And Earth

[rastronomicals]

4:30 PM EDT June 15, 2024:

Enslaved - "Fusion Of Sense And Earth" From the album Ruun (May 22, 2006)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

File under: Progressive Black Metal

[bleachbleachbleach]

I feel like the world needs to know that I forgot I set that tiled Diamond Dust Rebellion rockhopping gif as my screensaver. I came into the room after being away and was like, 'What strange mayhem is happening on my screen' and

LOLLLLLLLLL. THIS SCREENSAVER. THIS GIF.

Amazing. Perfection. A delight among delights. 😩🤏

[weskie]

What You Deserve (Albert Wesker x afab!Reader)

18+ | 2700 words, salacious use of tentacles, post re5 wesker, one of those things that was meant to be sweet but became nasty, amab!reader version here | Fic Directory

You've taken such good care of him. Isn't it time he rewards you? Be careful though. Some things are still a little… new.

You were something else.  Frankly you always have been, but now more than ever.

Despite waves of self loathing and rampant depression of which he would never confess, Wesker’s recovery has been as smooth as you could make it.  Pain medication kept most of the lingering aches away and Uroboros had ensured he lived to see another day.  Other than a weakened body riddled with scar tissue from his little dunk in the fires of the Earth, he couldn’t complain terribly much.

Even after his fusion with Uroboros, Wesker was still a mere man unable to escape the more… basic urges.  He’s always considered arousal to be like an itch.  Sure he could scratch it, but he could also ignore it and let it go away.  He often chose the latter, but, with little else to occupy him besides literature or your company, such a choice became significantly more difficult.

You notice his state quickly, though you say nothing of the tented blanket that only seems to continue rising the more he tries to ignore it.  You simply take his hand and squeeze, occupied with your laptop while Wesker rereads the same line of his book over and over again in a poor attempt to settle down.  When he tips his head back against the mountain of pillows he’s propped against, you give him a knowing look.

“Want some help?”  You ask, thumb brushing against his knuckles.

Does he?  He did go waist deep in lava. Thus far, it had seemed Uroboros took care to heal his nerves in all other places, and he’s never noticed a lack of sensation in the times where he’s had to touch himself to bathe, but what if he can’t feel enough to… perform well for you?  Was it even the full act of sex that you were offering or simply assistance in relieving him?

Perhaps the uncertainty was written across his face because you turn to face him, hand rising to stroke his cheek and trail into his unstyled hair.  Your touch spurs another aching pulse between his legs.  “Only if you want to,” you say sweetly. 

He pretends to consider your offer, but his answer was yes the very moment you spoke.  The second your thumb brushes his lip, he’s tugging you onto his lap.  He swallows your protests with ease, groaning weakly into the kiss.  Wesker knows you’re afraid to put your weight down on him, still so worried about agitating his aches and pains.  He has half a mind to grip your hips and help you grind against him, but you’re taking charge before he can.

“Let me,” you murmur, lips trailing down his neck.  You halt at the collar of his sleep shirt, moving away only to help him pull it over his head.  Your hands land on his sides, smoothing up and down slowly, stroking reverently at the juxtaposition of softness and patches of scarring.  Each motion brings you closer and closer to his chest until you’re kneading his pectorals, thumbs brushing against rosy buds in such a way that leaves him panting.

It really has been a while… the throb of his cock confirms it.  He has half a mind to just tear at your clothes and rush you to take him, but you seem to sense his impatience just as easily as you’d noticed his need.  “M’gonna take care of you,” you whisper sweetly, palms coaxing him to rest fully against the pillows. “You deserve it.” You slip so easily down his body, blanket falling away to reveal black boxer briefs that have clearly garnered a little wet spot from such light teasing.  “Just relax.  Shut your eyes, sweetheart.”

He does as you say, releasing a shuddering breath in anticipation for what’s to come.  It turns to a gasp the second your tongue laves the dip of his hips.  Your hands steady him with gentle pressure, shirking their duty when you decide to skim your nails over ticklish flesh and wring a breathy giggle from him.

He can feel your smile as you kiss further down, sensation dulling when your peppered love finds its way to the band of his underwear, renewing once more when you peck sweetly at his inner thighs.  Wesker’s hips seek you of their own accord and he’s lucky enough to feel at least one press of your lips to his covered length before you make your way back up.  He practically bucks into your grasp when you take hold of him. 

“Seems like everything's in working order,” you coo playfully in his ear.  

Wesker finds his lower lip to gnaw on while you stroke him slowly.  His hands paw at your clothes, eagerly trying to expose you.  His eyes flutter open, pupils blown wide around distorted hues of red and blue still vying for dominance over one another.  He’s just about got your shirt off when that hand of yours dives beneath his waistband, milking the most humiliating whine from him imaginable.

What's wrong with him? Why is he so… desperate? 

His hands leave you to shimmy out of his underwear, hissing at the cool air and the mere sight of your hand around his weeping cock.  He turns back to you, keening into a kiss as he tries once more to tug at your clothes.  He hoists your leg over his hip, palm smoothing to take a greedy handful of your rear, playing with your flesh as you’d done with him.  Everything about you is bliss itself, from your slow, torturous strokes to his cock to the slide of your tongue against his.  You should be bare against him, skin to skin, letting him feel every inch of you. He needs it. He needs you. 

Suddenly, a humming laugh escapes you, reverberating against his tongue before you break away.  “Again, huh?”  You breathe.  

Again… yes. 

Once more, tendrils have wound their way around you to do his bidding, but this time for more… salacious reasons.  Each one wriggles under your clothes in some way or another.  You aid them in their quest to strip you, tugging your shirt and pants away with ease while the masses slither just as eagerly as his hands explore.

It’s so cute how you squirm for him.  It’s as if the tables have been turned oh so perfectly, leaving you just as red in the face as you’d made him.  He may not have his full strength yet, but this?  This more than makes up for it.  One tentacle coils at your waist, holding you perfectly in place as the others find themselves far more… occupied.  Your giggles turn to breathy moans, each one sung perfectly for him.  You’re like an instrument only he can play, your pleasure a melody only he can create.

“W-Wo– Ah!”  You gasp, head lolling to the side the very second one of those slimy appendages creeps between your legs.  Your first instinct is to clench your thighs together, though you don’t get very far with having been straddling him.  The tip of it swipes your clit, making you buck and whine.  “Al!”

Tantalizing was… not a strong enough word for the sight before him.  These appendages have always carried a degree of wetness, some leaky black ooze that only ever left a small mess, but now?  Oh, now they leave clear glistening trails along your flesh that make his cock utterly ache.  It’s as if he’s painting you with his own arousal, picture perfect and drenched in his love just like you should be.  The tentacles trail over where he wants to see you marked most: your chest, your neck… all the way down to your pretty little pussy.

“Al, I–” You try, but you’re whimpering as more slithering lengths join in to curl around your thighs.  He didn’t even have to lift a finger…  There’s so many things he could do with you.  He could lift you, surely, to his face.  Slide his tongue that’s been so starved for you between your sopping folds.  Or he could lower you onto his cock right now.  Forget effort; you wouldn’t have to do a thing.  He could simply maneuver you accordingly, bounce you up and down with their grip on your body until you were both fucked senseless.  Or…

Wesker’s chest rises and falls with each open mouthed breath, watching with wide eyes as three smaller tendrils approach your cunt.  You squirm, but you show no sign for him to stop even as they alternate swiping along your slit.

“I-I thought– mm!”  You try, words as shaky as your trembling body. “T-Thought I was gonna t-take care of you instead…”  

“You are…” he breathes, utterly hypnotized as more tentacles join the fray and suddenly, without warning, you’re spread completely for him, slithering lengths taking your legs while smaller ones part your drenched pussy lips.  You’ve been put on exhibit, and oh… how you writhe and keen under his sopping touches.  All Wesker can do is simply lie there, cock torturously hard at the sight of you like this.  He dares not touch himself; he dares not even imagine it lest one of those lengths creep to coil around it to satisfy the urge.

“A-Albert– ngh!”  Every cry you make fuels whatever hidden desires lurk below the surface of his mind.  Nothing in the world could’ve prepared him for the sight of an extra thick tentacle slinking along your leg, coiling up and up until it presses at your entrance.  “O-Oh my god!”  You mewl, head falling back.  “I don’t– I don’t think I can– that’s too big… Al, I don’t think I can– Ah!”

Exhilaration runs down his spine as though every nerve in his body fired at once.  Watching it press into you, seeing every ounce of slick drip from its effort to wriggle inside as you keen and mewl and cry out his name over and over again as if to pray to him…  Wesker licks his lips, panting heavily, fighting to keep control despite that knot in his gut threatening to give at any moment.  His fists bite into the sheets, threads popping as they give way to his strength.  

“O-Oh g-god,” you sob, barely audible over wet squelches.  “P-Please… Al, p-please!”

“I…” he tries, but he has no words.  Nothing in the world could possibly explain this– why it was happening, why he was allowing it, why… why he fucking loves it.  

But he does know why, deep down.  Past that layer of perfect prudence and discipline lies the truth.  You deserve this.  You deserve every ounce of pleasure he can stuff into you.  For all that you’ve done for him… you deserve everything. 

You cry out over and over again as the thickness fucks in and out of you, slick drizzling from your cunt down your ass and onto the bed.  It soaks his hips and cock, oozing off to coat the sheets and surely seep down into what was now a ruined mattress.  But he doesn’t care.  Not one bit.

The tentacles wriggle all over you, slithering and rubbing against tender flesh, restraining the intense trembling of your legs as you dangle helplessly.  He can practically hear it hitting the depths of your cunt, each noisy, wet thrust coupled with your sweet songs a promise of your never ending pleasure.  And oh… you deserve it.  You deserve all that he can possibly give you.  You were there for everything.  The good, the bad, the horrifying…  Every part of him is yours, which means you get this, too.  

The first time you cry out his name is perfection in and of itself.   You come undone so beautifully.  He has to grasp his cock and squeeze the base damn near to the point of harming himself just to keep from blowing his load right then and there.  Watching you practically seize in his slithery grasp, hearing you gag and gurgle on one that had slipped between your lips, knowing you’re so fucked out of your mind that you could do little else than suckle its length as if it were his cock… 

Even then, it’s like he can feel it.  The sensation is dull, but it is there.  Your lazy tongue, the clench of your throat, the warmth of your breath, the throbbing quiver of your cunt– it’s all fucking there, and it’s all for him.  You belong to him.  You’ve shown him so many times, over and over again that he has you, heart, mind, body, and soul.

“That’s it, dearheart…” he coos, shaky voice barely more than a murmur.  “You’re– you’re doing so perfect… You’re taking me so well.”

He feels you clench up again, walls trembling as you approach your next release.  You always did like when he’d purr such things in your ear.  It warms his heart in the strangest way to see it work just the same now.  

“O-One more for me.”  Wesker rasps brokenly, heavy breaths leaving him as he watches with an unyielding gaze.  He will not miss a second of this.  “It feels good, doesn’t it…? I can feel it too.”  He wants nothing more than to hear you come undone for him once more.  As if understanding his thoughts, the appendage in your mouth slips free, prompting you to gasp and choke desperately for air.  

You moan nonstop as if it were the only sound left that you could make.  It’s like you’ve been robbed entirely of higher thought and fell into a mindless state, one that could only comprehend the thickness ramming in and out of your cunt.  Your sweet noises pitch up more and more with every passing second, signaling your next climax is near.

Wesker wills the tentacles to tilt you upright, the big one still fucking into you despite the position shift, and you whine weakly at the change.  “Come for me, my sweet.” He commands, rising from his position to cup your cheeks between his hands.  As if fully understanding his order, you do exactly that, falling apart with a breathless scream cut off by the thick length slipping from your cunt while the others force you down onto his cock.  “Oh, god!”  He roars, face falling into the crook of your neck to muffle his own cries as his release hits him like a lightning bolt, coating your ooze slicked walls with his seed in heavy spurts.  

Albert’s eyes are clenched shut, but he swears his vision has gone white.  There’s nothing.  Nothing at all is left in this world except for your limp form in his hold and the heat of your flesh between his teeth.  Even when the oxygen in his lungs has gone stale, he still forgets to breathe.  It’s your trembling fingers curling at his nape that remind him he’s even still alive.

The two of you remain like that for some time, long enough that his legs go stiff and each slithering length once wrapped around your body retreats back into him.  You’re both covered in ooze, but he can’t find it in himself to care.  Not yet, at least.

You’re limp in his grasp, but he can tell you’re awake from the occasional scritch to the base of his neck or breath fanning against his skin.

“I… apologize.” He eventually murmurs.  It’s all he can think to say.  Certainly, you both would be having quite the conversation about this eventually.  But, for now, this much is due.  “For… having lost control.”  It isn’t even an exaggeration.  At some point, all thought went out the door.  There was only the two of you and every salacious desire he couldn’t suppress. 

He needs to become better at that.  

“Mm,” you hum weakly, fingers threading through his hair the way they always do in the afterglow.  “You’re full of surprises…”  There’s a hint of amusement in your voice.  That good natured softness with which you’ve always treated him.  “We gotta… mm, when my legs work again… it’s shower time.”

He couldn’t agree more.  For now though, he means to simply hold you, still buried within your heat.  You feel like home.  What luck to have found you…

And what bliss to know you’ll stay.

[genericpuff]

I want to ask something that might seem silly-

But is like, Persephone meant to be this super powerful goddess like she ‘is’ in LO? Like the whole fertility goddess thing that makes her super OP?

In LR fertility gods and goddesses are wellsprings of power, but not in the same way that they are in LO where they're just sort of conveniently super powerful for whatever they need to do, often at the hands of their loved ones. Rather, their power is in their ability to create new gods / goddesses without the need for fusion of powers with other gods / goddesses.

Ex. Persephone was born from a combination of Demeter's flower gardens (which were imbued with Demeter's own blessings with the intent of creating flower nymphs) and Zeus' powers when he "pranked" her by striking the flower garden with his lightning; Hades, however, was created purely through Rhea's own will, using minerals and stones of the earth to craft his flesh.

And yes, I say goddesses and gods because many of the gods who were stripped of their fertility status in LO have that status again. That includes Hermes, Demeter, Aphrodite, Dionysus, etc. !

Hope that makes sense !

[misslovasstuff]

“Sweet love”

[Sanji x reader]

author’s note: there isn’t a heavy plot or anything, just felt romantic and wanted to express it with a hopeless romantic. Enjoy ~

His body always betrays him- it blushes, trembles…You kiss the back of his neck, hearing him whispering your name so ever softly.

“Love…”

As the saying goes, only the sun has ever come so close and when it did, there were burns and scars. However, your lips warmed his skin in a way the sun couldn’t. Traces of your fingertips were enlightening dark memories, turning them to light and making any pain disappear from its roots. You were a signature on his skin, now imprinted on his head - a beat, a sign of life in his heart.

Sanji pushes his head backwards as your lips travel from down his ear where you bite teasingly, to his jaw. Your fingers caress his throat, going further down on his chest.

He bites his lip, not to maintain any composure, rather to convince himself that it is real - what he is feeling right now is real.

“Baby…” - he breathes, feeling your hand caressing his chest, stopping right at his heart.

“Does it know, Sanji? - you rest your head on his back, so secure, so safe, so… understanding. - Does your heart know that every beat of it, is a breath of mine?”

Sanji’s gaze softens, grabbing your forearm gently and caressing it with his thumb. His hand slides down to grab yours, putting it right in front of his lips.

“My heart only knows you, dear. - his wet lips against your cold hands make you shiver, clenching your hand on his shirt. - You breathe life into me.”

Beautiful words from your gentleman have once again struck you so deeply. You want to see his eyes, you must. There is a need to tell Sanji that you love him, a love so beautiful like the one earth holds for the stars - never angry when they die or perish, always grieving their place in the sky. And right now, you wanted to find your place in his arms.

“Sanji..” - you call him, voice trembling and cheeks turning red.

The blond raises his eyebrows as he turns back to face you, grabbing your chin worriedly and lowering his head to look at your face. The very moment your eyes meet, Sanji widens his, gulping hard as he feels with every inch of his body how vulnerable he is when your eyes gaze upon his- making him lose a sense of surrounding, wanting to cup your cheeks, so he does.

“My goodness… how can you be so heavenly beautiful?” - he puts a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling, a smile so bright that you take in his warmth like a drug. His thumb caresses your cheek, a love so gentle he always gives.

“I love you, Sanji.” - your lips spill so naturally, as if they were beginning to spell out the love your heart held.

With those words, the chef’s gaze lands on your lips.

“I believe those lips of yours, - he confesses, face coming closer. - every word you whisper to me, every smile, every…kiss.”

You know what happens when a star is born? There are sequences, forces, pulls, fusions and burns… A kiss given by Sanji is like a star appearing on the sky where there is nothing but darkness. You’re lured into it, hypnotised and completely lost in it. The way his hand brushes off your hair, pulls you closer by the waist and draws constellations when holding you like a universal miracle that has bestowed him… is just magical.

When the kiss is broken, you lean in for more…and more… until you find yourself intertwined under a sky filled with stars.

[raedas]

where in the locked tomb universe are we?

or: a tentative guide to the solar system in the locked tomb and which houses go where :)

[id: a diagram of the solar system, including pluto, with additional white text overlaid over each body. the sun is labeled dominicus, mercury is labeled the sixth, venus is the seventh, earth is the first, mars is the second, jupiter is the third, saturn is the fifth, uranus is the fourth, neptune is the eight, and pluto is the ninth. /end id]

note: i'm pretty sure people have put together similar analyses before, but i wanted to try my own hand at it! and please feel free to share if you disagree with me on anything & your own evidence and thoughts <3

evidence & analysis under the cut!

THE NINTH HOUSE:

okay, this one is pretty much just a freebie. if you didn't know that the ninth house was on pluto, then, uh... sorry! i'm not going to exhaustively go through all the evidence for this one, but some things that stick out are the cold, gideon's awe at how close the first house is to the sun, and the fact that it's the "ninth" to begin with—the house that wasn't really meant to exist, perfectly in line with the planet that isn't really a planet THE FIRST HOUSE:

this one is given to us just as much, if not moreso, than the ninth. with that in mind, i'm just going to do a quick run through of the evidence that the first house is earth: it's very blue and covered in water, there are ruins of civilization, it's "the first", so on and so forth. home, sweet home :)

THE SIXTH HOUSE:

Then he said, "The sun has stabilized. Hope the Sixth House didn't get cooked in the flare." (Harrow the Ninth, 490)

this line is pretty much the entire selling point for the sixth being on mercury, the closest planet to the sun! (until they run away to the other side of the universe, that is)

THE SEVENTH HOUSE:

There were other planets that made their homelands closer to the burning star of Dominicus--the Seventh and Sixth, for instance--but to Gideon they could not imaginably be anything else than 100 percent on fire. (Gideon the Ninth, 67)

the implication here is fairly obvious: the seventh and sixth are on venus and mercury, or vice versa. thankfully, since we have the sixth squared away as mercury, it's pretty obvious that the seventh is located on venus

BONUS MYTHOLOGY FACT: venus is the roman goddess of beauty! (also known by her greek name, aphrodite). "seven for beauty that blossoms and dies", huh?

THE EIGHTH HOUSE:

"I squeal so long and so loud that they hear me from the Eighth." (Gideon the Ninth, 26)

while this line is obvious hyperbole, to me it implies one of two things: either the eighth is the farthest planet from the ninth, or it's right next to them. and since we know that mercury already has its hands full with sixth house, i think it's safe to assume that the eighth is on neptune, the ninth's next door neighbor :)

THE SECOND HOUSE:

"We went through the same shitty questions of what to do. What about the Mars installation, what about the fusion batteries?" (Nona the Ninth, 74)

john helpfully offers this tidbit to us when he's recounting everything that happened leading up to the apocalypse to harrow. i think it says a lot that there was a mars installation even before the apocalypse properly hit, and it makes sense that said installation would eventually become a proper House, with a capital H

BONUS MYTHOLOGY FACT: mars is the roman god of warfare (known in greek as ares)! looks at the second house and how closely they're associated the cohort... yeah, i think that speaks for itself

THE THIRD & FIFTH HOUSES:

"I thought we'd end up on the Third or the Fifth, or a sweet space station, or something." (Gideon the Ninth, 56)

"We are not becoming an appendix of the Third or Fifth Houses," continued the necromancer opposite." (Gideon the Ninth, 58)

okay, here's this bit where things begin to get a bit hairy. repeatedly throughout the books, we're told about how the third and fifth are the two "big" houses. harrow's scared of them and worried they'll make the ninth one of their appendixes, gideon originally thinks the entire lyctoral meeting will be on one of their planets, so on and so forth. with that in mind, it really isn't that much of a stretch to think they'd be situated on the two giants in our solar system: jupiter and saturn. we'll come back in a moment to sort out which is which!

THE FOURTH HOUSE:

aaaand uranus is the only planet left! congrats, fourth!

THE THIRD & FIFTH HOUSES (again):

"Naturally [Isaac] is Pent's protégé. I hear the Fifth takes special pains with the Fourth... hegemonic pains, some may say." (Gideon the Ninth, 170)

from this quote, as well as the whole of jeannemary & isaac's relationship with magnus & abigail, we can surmise that the fourth house is very close to the fifth house (hegemonic though it may be). it's reasonable that that metaphorical proximity is reflecting (or caused by) something else: physical proximity. with that, i think it's fairly safe to assume that the fifth is on saturn, putting the third on jupiter

DOMINICUS:

aaand finally, the center of the solar system itself! i really, really don't think it needs sharing that dominicus is the sun, as long as you accept that the locked tomb takes place in our own solar system. however, i do think the meaning of dominicus is worth sharing. coming from latin, it translates roughly to "lordly", "belonging to god", or "of the master." very subtle, john, very subtle.

[cieloclercs]

grace , send me a trope + a character and i’ll write a short drabble from it

hii, can i please request best friends to lovers with ollie?

congrats on 1k btwww 🫶🫶

call me cupid — ollie bearman

pairing. ollie bearman x best friend!reader

word count. 2.7k (i swear i tried to make it short lmao)

warnings. kind of a weird fusion of fluff and angst ??? unrequited love vibes (that’s not actually unrequited but u get what i mean), pining ollie, pining reader, arthur lowkey is the mastermind, and is also sick of said pining, abrupt ending i’m sorry 😭

author’s note. hello anon! thank you so much for your request ☺️ i hope this is ok ! i know it cuts off quite abruptly, but i’d be open to writing a part 2 with the confession if you want one &lt;3

read below the cut

He’s staring again.

It’s becoming a problem, but can anyone really blame him? You look nothing short of angelic under the strobe lights, your shimmering dress catching his eye every time you move. You’re dancing with a girl he doesn’t recognise, that beautiful smile he adores stretched across your crimson-painted lips. It makes him wonder what she’s saying to you to make you seem so content.

Best friends shouldn’t look at each other the way he’s looking at you now. Ollie knows that. Yet on days like today, he really can’t help it. This is your party, celebrating your third Formula 2 victory in a row. He’d watched from way back in P5 as you stormed through the field, fighting off every challenge your opponents tried to throw your way. There’s a reason the fans call you the Queen of Formula 2, after all. You’re practically untouchable. All it does is heighten his awareness of his own pounding heart whenever you’re around; turn his insides to velvet when you so much as smile his way. Yes, it’s becoming a problem — and Ollie isn’t sure there’s anything he can do to stop it.

“You know, I’ve just thought of something you should try.” A voice speaks up to his left, breaking him out of whatever trance you’ve unwittingly put him under. He turns. Arthur Leclerc stands like the devil on his shoulder, arms folded, expression unimpressed. When Ollie says nothing, he goes on, “It’s called talking to her. Works wonders, really, I’d highly recommend. It’s how I met Carla.”

The younger of the two rolls his eyes. Arthur is the only other living soul on earth who knows about his infatuation with you — officially, at least. In reality, almost everyone in the Ferrari Academy has long since figured it out. Everyone except you, ironically. But Ollie supposes it makes sense; why would someone like you ever even consider him as something more than just a friend?

“Can we not do this tonight?” Ollie sighs, exasperated, “I’m just trying to forget about…all of that for a moment.”

This time it’s Arthur who rolls his eyes. Ever since he first caught on to his friend’s crush on you a little over eight months ago, he’s been trying every method under the sun to try and make him see that maybe, just maybe, he shouldn’t be so pessimistic about his chances. But the answer is always the same. Ollie remains convinced, like some poor, naïve, completely oblivious child, that you’d never so much as give him a second glance if he told you how he felt. It’s complete bullshit, of course. Arthur has seen the way your eyes search immediately for his after a race, be it a good result or even a bad one. He’s watched you brush off close friends (including him, many a time) even family members, to get to Ollie. But of course, Ollie himself doesn’t notice. No fool in love ever does.

“You’re not going to forget though, are you?” Arthur muses, glancing at his friend out of the corner of his eye, “I know you, and I know you can’t stay away from her for that long. You’ll cave eventually.” he smirks. At the sight of Ollie’s pink cheeks, he knows he’s caught him out.

“Why don’t you go annoy someone else for a change?” the Brit grumbles. There’s the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. Arthur could pick it out even in the pitch dark.

“Don’t pretend you don’t love me.” he teases.

Within moments he’s cowered behind Carla on the other side of the room, chased away by Ollie’s (half joking) threats to crash him out of the next race on purpose if he doesn’t shut his mouth. But Arthur’s words stick with him throughout the entire night. Somehow, they always do.

In truth, Ollie's been grappling with the idea of telling you for quite a while; to put him out of his own misery more than anything else. He's sick and tired of the 'best friends' label. It seems so trivial, so reductive to say that it hurts him, when in fact, every time you refer to him as such, he’s sure you must be ripping his heart out of his chest. But then he can’t help but feel melodramatic — at least he has you, even if only as a friend. Even if you don’t love him in the way he loves you, you’re still there. Close, though perhaps not quite close enough. Ollie has decided not to take that for granted. He knows how easily it can be snatched away from him.

In the end (just as he always seems to be) Arthur is right — it’s not even an hour before he finds himself gravitating towards you; unwittingly being pulled into your orbit from which he fears, if he’s not careful, he’ll never be able to escape. You’re hovering on the edge of a group of engineers now, sipping on a glass of sparkling water out of a straw. How you can appear drop dead gorgeous yet so damn adorable at the same time, he has no idea. Ollie feels he’ll be spending the rest of his life trying to figure you and your many layers out.

“Hi, Ol.” you greet him with a smile like the sun when he finally plucks up the courage to approach. He mutters something in reply, though as soon as the words have left his mouth he’s already forgotten them — he could have said something completely unintelligible for all he knows. That’s the effect you have on him.

“Having fun?” you prompt again, your soft smile spreading into a full-blown grin. Ollie glances briefly around the room. It’s absolutely packed full of Ferrari Academy members, both drivers and personnel. Normally, this kind of event would be his worst nightmare. Even if he’s known these people for years, the idea of having to socialise and look like he’s having fun makes him feel sick. But then he remembers all this is for you. It’s to celebrate your achievements in a male dominated field, which no woman has ever managed to do before. When he reminds himself of that, all his anxiety suddenly seems to melt away.

“Of course.” Ollie grins back. His heart soars to see you light up at his words, to see you giggle behind the rim of your glass and look at him as if he’s the only person in the world. At times like this he can truly believe that maybe Arthur is right — maybe, if he confesses, his world won’t come crashing down. Maybe you’ll light it up for the better.

“What happened to you at turn one? Nic told me you dropped out of the points." you go on, eyebrows furrowing with the remnants of confusion. Ollie had begun the feature race in P2 behind you, yet you'd find that the competition you'd so anticipated disappeared not even before the first lap had ended. The Brit sighs, shaking his head.

"I collided with Jack trying to defend." he tells you with a wince, "Damaged my sidepods."

Your expression twists into one of sympathy. There's almost no coming back from that, even for a driver as talented as Ollie. Still, you think, to climb back up to P5 after sustaining damage like that is no mean feat. You don't miss the way he flushes bashfully when you tell him as such.

"It was my own fault." he mumbles, trying desperately to cool the flames in his cheeks as you watch him, eyebrows raised. He always feels like he's been put under a microscope when you look at him like this. There's no escaping the calculation in your stare, the curious scrutiny. "I took too much of a risk."

You shake your head. There's the tiniest of knowing smiles on your lips. Ollie is always so hard on himself. It's something you both admire him for, and find yourself exasperated with; he never seems to be able to see how brilliant he really is -- or at least, how brilliant he is in your eyes.

"Well, whoever was at fault, it's a real shame." you dismiss with a wave of your hand, "I miss sharing the podium with you."

Ollie is sure he must be melting. He can't figure out if it's from your words alone, or from the tiny pout that's fallen on your lips, or even the soft glint in your eyes as you gaze up at him. Suddenly the proximity between the two of you seems to have all but diminished. He chuckles nervously.

"Next race will be ours." the Brit murmurs. Little by little you inch closer to him, your hand resting on the ledge you're leaning on, just ghosting over where his own lays flat. He breathes in sharply.

"Promise?" you whisper. The point of your heel bumps against his foot. Ollie glances down at it in a panic, before his head snaps up to meet your piercing gaze. He fears that if he rocks forwards only the slightest bit on the balls of his feet, he'll be close enough for his nose to bump yours. He's never felt so consumed, so intoxicated by another person in all his life. He can smell the honey scent of your hair, feel your warm breath tickling his cheek. His gaze flickers down for the briefest of moments to your lips - soft and pink, parted as if there's something else you want to say, but the words have gotten trapped in your throat.

"I promise." Ollie croaks.

Just one more step, you think. One more step, and he'll kiss you. He's so close, closer than he's ever been before, and suddenly you can see everything falling into place: all the nights spent crying on Arthur's shoulder, wondering whether Ollie is truly just scared as your friend says he is, or whether he simply doesn't feel the same. It will all fade into a distant, long-abandoned memory. Finally, you'll be able to call him something more than just your best friend.

But then he steps away.

You flinch, taken aback at his sudden movement. Ollie stares at you, wide-eyed, breathing heavily as if he's just run a marathon. He can't believe what's just happened — can't believe he was about to kiss you. How could he be so stupid?

"I —" he stammers. The look on your face is hard to decipher: shocked, confused, hurt. If Ollie looked a bit closer, he'd be able to see the last of those emotions, or the way your shock is mixed with a horrible sinking feeling of disappointment. But, of course, he doesn't see it that way. He's stuck on the same, poisonous idea that's been plaguing his mind ever since he first figured out his feelings — you don't feel the same way.

"I'm sorry." Ollie gasps. Then, without another word, he turns on his heel and runs, leaving you stood alone, arms half outstretched as if to try and stop him. You're too late, of course. Within moments he's out of sight. Gone, just like your hope.

"Well that was a train wreck." a familiar voice speaks up from somewhere on your left. You spin around, groaning as you spot Arthur, arms folded, eyebrows furrowed in what you can only imagine is frustration.

"You don't say." you drawl bitterly, glaring down into your empty glass. Wordlessly, your friend passes you his own half-full one. You lean down to sniff at its contents, and pull away, nose scrunched in distaste — definitely not water. But you think, at this point, you're owed some kind of distraction.

"Why does he keep running away from me?" you grumble. It's been months of this cat and mouse game now. Tonight is the closest you've ever got; the first time you've seen with your own eyes that Ollie does reciprocate your feelings. Yet it feels like for that step forward, all you've gone and done is taken another two back.

"Because he's an idiot." Arthur answers plainly. The Monégasque watches as you take a gulp of his drink, pulling a face at the burn in your throat, and wordlessly reaches forwards to take the glass back from your hands. He's grateful that you don't complain.

"Well I wish he'd stop." you mutter. As much as you're willing to wait for Ollie for as long as he needs, it's painful, having to go on loving him from a distance like this. Every time you lock eyes, the longing grows more intense. You're not sure how much longer you can take it.

"You know, you're just as bad as he is." Arthur speaks up. Once again, your head snaps towards him, eyes narrowing.

"What?"

"You heard me." the Monégasque says with a sigh, "Look, I want to help you, I really do, but you could make all of this so much easier for yourself if you just tell him how you feel."

And there it is. You can’t help but let out a bitter chuckle. It sounds so simple coming from Arthur’s mouth — so easy. God knows you’ve tried, time and time again, to be honest with Ollie about your feelings, to rip off the plaster in the hopes the pain of it won’t be too great; that he might just tell you he’s been trying to say the same thing all this time. But whenever you feel as if you might be ready, the words catch in your throat. You just can’t stomach them. It’s a kind of vulnerability you’ve never shown to anyone before, let alone someone who already means so much to you. At the end of the day, you’re still young. No matter how much you love Ollie now, the chances of him being the one are low.

At least, that’s what you’ve been trying to convince yourself. But a part of you knows already — there’s no one else on earth you’ll ever feel this way about. Young or not, it’s always going to be Ollie.

“I don’t know if I can take that risk, Arth.” you say quietly, “If Ollie and I — if we’re not meant to be together…isn’t it better just to have him, even as a friend, than risk losing him entirely?”

You’re honestly not sure which is the most painful: having to pretend that you don’t love him, or the idea of one day not having him at all. Yet, you still know which one you’d choose — even if it hurts like ripping your own heart out of your chest.

“Huh.” Arthur says, eyebrows furrowing again. There’s something different in his expression this time, though. It’s less frustration, more a spark. As if he’s realised something you and Ollie may not have just yet.

“What?” you ask. Suddenly, Arthur begins to smile. You watch him disbelievingly, none the wiser as to what on earth he has to be so happy about at the present moment. Then he’s laughing, shaking his head as if in mirthful despair.

“You really are soulmates.” the Monégasque snickers, watching almost gleefully as you grow even more confused.

“What?” you ask again. Part of you begins to wonder if Arthur has lost his mind — you wouldn’t blame him after the game he’s been playing: acting as some sort of secret go-between in the middle and your and Ollie’s back and forth self-doubts. But Arthur hasn’t lost the will to live with it all just yet. In fact, he thinks he’s finally figured out how to make the both of you see sense.

“He said the exact same thing to me.”

And with that, Arthur turns on his heel, leaving you stood alone, your mind racing. All this time you’ve been trying to play the long game; trying to anticipate what Ollie is thinking, when in reality, your thoughts are practically shared. You’re both afraid. More than you ever have been in your life. But for the first time you begin to think, perhaps fear doesn’t have to be the dividing factor.

“Why do you look so pleased with yourself?” Carla Brocker asks her boyfriend as he retakes his familiar position at her side, still grinning like a child who’s just been told Christmas is coming early. Arthur says nothing, merely tilting his head in the direction of where you stand motionless. It only takes a few moments for Carla to catch on. She turns to face her boyfriend again, mouth hanging open.

“You think you’ve got through to her?” she whispers urgently.

Once again, Arthur Leclerc grins proudly.

“Just call me Cupid.”

[luckshmi]

Saturn vs. Sun

A Cosmic Tug of War Between Light and Shadow

In Hindu mythology, the relationship between the Sun (Surya) and Saturn (Shani) is rooted in complex dynamics of conflict, duty, and karmic lessons. According to Vedic lore, Saturn is the son of the Sun and his wife Chhaya, the shadow-form of Sanjana. Sanjana, unable to bear Surya's intense heat, created her shadow form, Chhaya, to take her place. However, when the Sun realized this, a great distance grew between the two. Shani was born from Chhaya’s womb, and from birth, he had a strained relationship with his father, the Sun.

Legend has it that when Saturn opened his eyes as a newborn, his father, the Sun, was eclipsed, symbolizing Saturn’s natural tendency to dim or challenge the Sun’s light. This myth perfectly encapsulates their astrological relationship—where the Sun represents illumination, vitality, and authority, Saturn embodies limitations, restrictions, and the cold hand of time.

The tension between them is symbolic of the eternal battle between light and shadow, freedom and responsibility, individuality and structure. The Sun, representing ego and self-expression, often finds its brilliance dampened by Saturn’s demand for discipline, humility, and the karmic weight of responsibility.

From an astronomical standpoint, the Sun and Saturn couldn’t be more different. The Sun is a massive ball of nuclear fusion, emitting light and heat that sustains life on Earth. It represents the life-giving force, constantly radiating energy. Saturn, on the other hand, is a cold, distant planet. Though it’s the second-largest planet in the solar system, its slow orbit around the Sun and its icy composition emphasize its association with time, patience, and endurance. Saturn is encircled by a set of iconic rings, which can be seen as symbolic boundaries or limitations that the planet imposes.

The physical warmth of the Sun contrasts sharply with Saturn’s coldness. The Sun symbolizes vitality, passion, and drive, while Saturn’s icy rings represent restriction, delay, and the long journey toward mastery.

The Sun rules the sign of Leo, while Saturn governs Capricorn and Aquarius. These rulerships reflect their inherent characteristics:

Leo (Sun’s rulership): Leo, a fire sign, is associated with creativity, leadership, self-expression, and authority. Like the Sun, which sits at the center of the solar system, Leo energy craves attention and recognition. The Sun’s influence makes Leo individuals naturally radiant, generous, and sometimes domineering, seeking to shine in whatever they do.

Capricorn (Saturn’s rulership): Saturn’s association with Capricorn, an earth sign, emphasizes hard work, discipline, ambition, and long-term goals. Capricorn individuals, influenced by Saturn, are known for their perseverance and their ability to navigate challenges with patience and determination. Saturn rewards those who endure hardships and stay committed to their path.

Aquarius (Saturn’s co-rulership): Aquarius has traditional ties to Saturn. Saturn’s influence on Aquarius is more intellectual, representing the structuring of ideas and social systems. Aquarius, an air sign, embodies progressive thinking, humanitarianism, and innovation, but Saturn’s co-rulership adds a layer of responsibility and commitment to collective goals.

The Sun is exalted in Aries, where its fiery energy is fully unleashed, and it’s debilitated in Libra, where it struggles to maintain its autonomy in the realm of balance and relationships.

Saturn is exalted in Libra, where its sense of fairness and justice shines, and it’s debilitated in Aries, where impulsive action and Saturn’s slow, methodical nature clash.

At a symbolic level, the Sun and Saturn embody opposing forces in esoteric teachings. The Sun represents the ego, the conscious self, and our core essence. It is the source of light, radiance, and outward expression of identity. It tells us who we are at our core and how we project that identity into the world. The Sun is about presence, boldness, and self-confidence. It is masculine energy, action-oriented, and outward-facing.

Saturn, on the other hand, is the planet of karma, time, and discipline. Additionally, Saturn governs the lessons we must learn through effort, endurance, and often suffering. It is the planet of boundaries, restrictions, and responsibilities. While the Sun shines light on who we are, Saturn shows us where we must grow, through challenges, limitations, and the passage of time. Saturn is often referred to as the taskmaster or judge, ensuring we fulfill our karmic duties.

Saturn asks us to transcend ego by imposing limitations, while the Sun encourages us to embrace our individuality and creative expression. In this sense, they represent the dual aspects of life: freedom and responsibility, joy and sorrow, and self-expression and self-discipline.

Sun vs. Saturn in a Horoscope

When the Sun and Saturn aspect or are conjunct in a birth chart, it can indicate a life marked by tension between personal desires and external obligations. Those with prominent Sun-Saturn aspects may experience challenges with self-confidence, authority figures, or restrictions in expressing their creativity and individuality. Saturn’s influence can dim the Sun’s natural brightness, creating self-doubt or a sense of being burdened by responsibilities.

However, this combination also offers tremendous potential for growth. Saturn’s disciplined approach can refine the Sun’s creative energy, leading to mastery in one’s chosen field. Individuals with this placement may learn to overcome their ego-based desires in favor of more meaningful, long-term accomplishments.

The Sun in astrology is often associated with the father or authority figures, while Saturn represents the disciplinarian or strict, karmic parent. In a psychological sense, the Sun relates to how we perceive ourselves, our sense of identity, and the way we seek recognition. Saturn, by contrast, often relates to how we experience authority, restriction, and the limitations imposed upon us by external structures, such as society, family, or karma.

Someone with a strong Sun in their chart may have a healthy sense of self-worth and a positive relationship with father figures, while those with a strong Saturn influence may experience their fathers as stern, distant, or overly demanding.

Saturn’s transits over the natal Sun (or vice versa) are often significant periods of growth, maturity, and responsibility. During such transits, individuals may feel the weight of obligations or restrictions that force them to confront their ego and re-evaluate their goals. While challenging, these transits can lead to profound personal growth, as Saturn teaches the importance of structure, patience, and long-term planning.

In the cosmic play of Vedic astrology, the Sun and Saturn represent two essential yet opposing forces. The Sun’s radiant light signifies individuality, creativity, and self-expression, while Saturn’s cold restraint symbolizes discipline, karma, and endurance. Together, they create a balanced dynamic where the light of the ego is tempered by the lessons of responsibility and humility. Their interplay teaches us to honor both the joy of self-expression and the wisdom gained through life's trials.

[elbiotipo]

What if life evolved in a rogue planet. What would that look like?

This could be surprisingly possible!

Rogue planets, for those who don't know, are planets that don't orbit any star, and wander through interstellar space. They are thought to form around a star, like our Sol's protoplanetary disk, but were ejected by gravitational interaction with other objects during its early formation, for example, two planets forming too close and the smaller one being thrown away with the bigger acting as a gravitational 'slingshot', or a star passing nearby and perturbing their orbit. It's kind of sobering to think that there must be millions, perhaps billions of Earth-like planets that were flung into interstellar space earlier on their formation or even afterwards.

This is not a very pleasant environment, isolated from the warm glow of any star, with temperatures approaching absolute zero. We still don't know much about interstellar space, and I imagine that rogue planets inside the diverse kind of nebulae or near dense star clusters would be very different. But by the most part you can expect them to be dead frozen balls of ice, as EVERYTHING freezes in this temperature. No warmth for any kind of life to be found.

Is this so, though? For starters, brown dwarfs, which are not especifically planets but let's say 'objects' several times the mass of Jupiter, are very hot, being capable of deuterium fusion (unlike hydrogen fusion which is what gives stars their energy). This weak kind of fusion does not allow them to be stars proper, but endures for billions of years. Imagine a gigantic Jupiter glowing in a dull red or magenta. Though it would be interesting to especulate on life in the upper layers of a brown dwarf, or perhaps moons that bask on the weak infrarred it emits, I don't see it particularily likely. On the other hand, organisms can thrive with minimal energy, more on that later. I can imagine, in some remote brown dwarf moon, 'prairies' of incredibly slow photosynthetical organisms growing under the weak light of a brown dwarf.

(here's some artwork of a moon orbiting a red dwarf, with source)

However, these aren't planets in the literal sense. Most rogue planets are indeed likely to be frozen balls of ice and rock. There is no star to warm them up (Earth's diverse biosphere depends on the light of the Sun, as obvious as it sounds), and no kind of life, no matter how exotic, can thrive near absolute zero, molecules just don't move enoguh to allow any kind of metabolism. Even theorized life using ammonia or methane as a solvent instead of water involves temperatures like that of Titan, Saturn's moon, which still gets some sunlight and warmth if minimal, allowing it to retain an atmosphere. Rogue planets just get none.

There are other ways of warming up a planet however. The interior of Earth is still hot from its planetary formation and the decay of radioactive elements on its core, creating volcanic and tectonic activity (though that's still disputed, as it seems that oceans acting as a 'lubricant' is needed for plate tectonics), and it's likely that larger planets would have even greater activity. It's also not the only option, a moon orbiting a large planet would have tidal forces that stretch it, producing similar tectonic activity that could melt the kilometers of ice covering them -water is actually more abundant in space that it seems- and this is indeed what happens in Jupiter's moons Europa and Saturn's Enceladus, as well as the much overlooked Jupiter's Io, which is an incredibly interesting patchwork of volcanoes in frozen temperatures. In fact, astronomers are starting to learn these subsurface oceans are actually the norm rather than the exception.

They are as you might have heard, prime candidates for life. The origin of life on Earth is still one of those debates that send scientists into academic fistfights as you can imagine, but one of the main theories involve it arising from the rich energy and nutrient environment of hydrothermal vents, which would be very common in these kind of worlds. So, if this is true, it's not unlikely that there could be countless worlds like these with life. Returning to rogue planets, subsurface oceans heated by tidal forces don't need any sunlight at all, they just need an icy moon orbiting a big enough planet at the right distance (there are other details, of course, but let's go with the basics). A rogue planet the size of Jupiter or larger could have been expelled from its original system carrying its moons, or could have captured another rogue planet in interstellar space, which would be very interesting as they both would likely have completely different origins and perhaps compositions. Similarily, a tectonically active rogue planet would be enough to melt subsurface oceans, or even surface regions like Yellowstone or Afar on Earth.

What would life look like in these worlds? You can read about speculations of life in Europa and on hydrothermal vents here on Earth to get an idea, but let's talk about it a bit. Now, you might read that hydrothermal vents are an oasis of diversity in the deep ocean with life especially adapted to them, and since they are often relatively short-lived, there are ecological cycles related to them that are still poorly understood. However, do notice that some of the most prominent macroscopic organisms in these places (like say tube worms, isopods, yeti crabs, eels) did not evolve from the extremophile bacteria there themselves, but rather evolved from life from elsewhere (from the rich, sunlit oceans) that adapted to such enviroments. The life *native* to hydrothermal vents on Earth are indeed extremophile, chemosynthetic bacteria and archea, that is, they don't use photosynthesis, their metabolism creates energy and organic structures from the surrounding inorganic chemicals (some very toxic, like sulfides) and heat, no light involved. Unlike most ecosystems on Earth, these chemosythetic organisms are the producers of this isolated food chain, entering symbiosis with other animals not only for food, but also respiration, digestions, and many more things. This is fascinating because it does prove in a very explicit way that chemosynthetic organisms can support complex ecosystems without photosynthesis.

(here's life from an hydrothermal vent, notice the crabs and bivalves, do read the Wikipedia article, it's great)

However, again, do notice that these animals did NOT evolve FROM the bacteria and archaea themselves. They adapted to these extreme enviroments from other animals that evolved in the rich sunlit biosphere of Earth, fed by photosynthesis. If it was by the chemosynthetic bacteria themselves, they would be happy (as much as a bacteria can I guess) to live down there and do chemosythesis forever. There's little evolutionary pressure for them to do anything else.

At least right now. Of course, ironically, these complex simbionts like yeti crabs and tube worms, like humans ourselves, might indeed be distant descendants of primitive hydrothermal bacteria, though from the ones that evolve to use photosythesis and consume those who did, far from the depths, so it means there was some reason for them to evolve out of the vents. Which brings the question; how and why did complex, that is multicelullar life, evolve on Earth, and where else could it evolve? That question deserves its own post or even book.

These are interesting questions to ponder when talking about rogue planets, or indeed any non-photosynthetic ecosystems like cave systems, that are also possible, or perhaps surface volcanic lakes or geysers. Our rich biosphere in Earth is fed by photosynthesis and the endless energy of the Sun. In a rogue planet, the sources of heat, energy and nutrients would be sparse points instead. In our own Earth, the organisms of cave ecosystems have extremely slow metabolisms, something like an olm (blind salamanders that are rather large, up to 40cm long) often stays YEARS in the same place, only moving to (very ocassionally) reproduce and eat. Such ecosystems are not exactly conductive to fast paced, sentient life. But if they are common, there might be millions of them across the universe, and one could especulate some of them might be chillin' on cities build around those vents, or perhaps penetrating the deep ice to see what the outside is like, or basking under nebula light in great hydrothermal systems.

In a similar way, returning to rogue planets, there is also the distressing posibility of an Earth-like world with a developed biosphere being flung away from its star by some freak astronomical event, like some star or indeed another rogue planet passing by and altering the orbits. As you might be very aware, life like Earth would die, and quickly, in this scenario. Again, the only remaining life would be in hydrothermal vents. But it would be interesting to think what kind of civilization could survive. I imagine big cave cities, nearer the underground warmth, fuelled by geothermal or nuclear energy. Perhaps greenhouses and aquariums there would preserve what remains of the biosphere.

And of course, rogue planets and objects would be great stepping stones for interstellar colonization. Perhaps instead of accelerating as fast as they can, long-lived starships might wander from planet to planet, gather resources and perhaps geothermal energy for the next leg of their journey, or settling them to get away from the faster-paced civilizations near bright stars.

If you liked this post and would like to read more, I would really, really appreciate if you gave me a tip to my ko-fi! Being a biologist looking for work in Argentina under a deranged libertarian president with the budget cuts and all is quite hard, so everything really counts!

[clean-casual-analysis]

When the villain is a philosophy

When you think of the word antagonist, the first thing that comes to mind is a villain. This is completely natural, given that stories of good vs evil tend to follow a heroic protagonist fighting against an evil antagonist. But once you get into the definition of the word, a person who actively opposes or is hostile to someone or something, moral alignment doesn’t dictate whether a character should be a protagonist or an antagonist. The most recognizable examples of this would be the likes of Invader Zim and Megamind, characters that are villainous in nature but are still the protagonists of their respective stories.

But villain protagonists and hero antagonists aren’t what I’m talking about here. I’m talking about the antagonists that aren’t entirely focused on, at least in the traditional sense. Antagonists that, despite being the source of conflict in the narrative, don’t actually show up a lot of the time. These antagonists, while characters in their own right, are more symbolic in nature. The protagonists of these stories aren’t just trying to defeat the antagonists, but the rotten philosophies that these antagonists have. The beliefs that push the antagonists to do their villainous acts.

White Diamond: Uniformity and the Status Quo

In the entirety of the original Steven Universe series, not counting the movie or SU Future, White Diamond appears in three episodes out of one hundred and sixty episodes. (Two if we don’t count White Pearl/Volleyball) That’s not even one percent of the series. In most series involving a good vs evil plot line, we usually switch perspectives between our heroes and villains to understand how they’re reacting to the events of the story. But SU is entirely told from Steven’s perspective. The audience only gets new information about gems, homeworld, Rose Quartz, etcetera, when Steven himself learns it. Because of this perspective, we don’t see the final antagonist of the series until the very end of the show.

But even though White Diamond is not present throughout the majority of the show, her homeworld subordinates and beliefs fill in the place of the hurdles that the protagonists must pass. Think about what the show is about and what lessons it teaches. Relationships are intricate and need mutual respect, being proud of who and what you are, and (most importantly) societal roles do not define you. The development of the main characters each involve acceptance of the self and bucking of what’s expected of them. Pearl fully moving on from Rose, Garnet improving her self-love, Amethyst fully accepting herself for what she is, Peridot’s disillusionment with Homeworld and growing appreciation for earth, Connie disobeying her mother’s strict rules, Steven slowly becoming someone better than even his own mother, I could go on. It’s honestly surprising, looking back, how most of the characters’ core issues stem from the lack of self-assurance and how homeworld views their flaws.

White Diamond and her Homeworld regime ultimately represent how systems put limits and stigma onto people for the sake of uniformity. The consequence of living inside your own head. A fusion cannot happen between two different gems, Pearls must be servants, Quartz gems must be big and strong, and Diamonds must be the perfect leaders. Why? Because that’s just what gems do. Because that’s how the system works. Homeworld’s status quo is one of creating an ever-expanding empire at the cost of independence, self-expression, unique lifeforms, and healthy relationships. The system can’t be wrong, White Diamond can’t be flawed, it’s how things have always been so why change what isn’t broken.

Sauron: Dominance and Corruption

While he has more screen presence and is a much more a significant part of the story of Lord of the Rings than White Diamond is to SU, the dark lord Sauron is similarly one small part of a larger tale. Heck, he doesn’t even have dialogue in the book trilogy. Also, like White Diamond, Sauron is best represented by his many underlings. Ruthless orcs with crude but effective weaponry, colossal beasts to crush his enemies underfoot, massive armies dedicated to the dark lord’s cause of dominating all life in Midde Earth. But what’s most notable about Sauron isn’t the great power he possesses or the armies he commands, it’s the way he corrupts and deceives those that stand against him.

The betrayal of Saruman the White, the nine Nazgûl once being great kings of men who were turned into terrible ringwraiths, and most notoriously, the enticing power of the one ring. Boromir, believing that Gondor can use this evil weapon for good. Smeagol, utterly degraded into a deceitful cave dwelling throttler named Gollum. Frodo, forced to carry a heavy burden that weighs him down both physically and mentally. To Sauron, the corruption of good is a weapon he wields with unmatched lethality.

The insidious nature of his villainy is what makes Sauron the great representative of dominance and corruption that he is. The promises of more enticing good people to do evil for the “right” reasons and the ruthless conquest for dominion over all is all too real an evil to ignore.

The Martians: Colonialism and Warfare

I debated with myself on whether or not the martians from War of the Worlds should be included here. Unlike Sauron or White Diamond, the martians are clear and present throughout the story. On the other hand, there isn’t a named martian general or a big bad that’s shown to lead the alien invaders into combat. In the end, the fact that the martians are made to purely represent the darkest parts of humanity outweighs the secondary theme of this essay.

One of, if not THE first alien invasion story, War of the Worlds messaging is clear and easy to understand. The tentacled beings from Mars are coldly intelligent, remorseless, and regard our world with envious eyes. They use human blood as sustenance when they aren’t vaporizing us by the hundreds, their tripods are horrific machines of mass destruction, and their invasion is one of slaughter and destruction. But the book is quick to remind us that humanity isn’t so morally innocent compared to the martians. The consumption of our blood seems horrific, but humans have also killed animals and each other for food and resources. Their tripods are colossal and terrifying, but humanity has made countless destructive war machines. The invaders are dead set on wiping out humanity, but humanity not only brought extinction to animals like the dodo bird but to entire groups of our own kind. The martians are not simply an alien invasion to fight back against, it’s a cautious look into our worst future. A humanity that prioritizes ruthless colonization and military might is a humanity doomed to be parasitic and heartless.

War of the Worlds also takes a critical view towards solving problems through warfare. Violence is sometimes needed to fight evil, but that does make violence a good thing. The action and battles in War of the Worlds are not thrilling or glorious, they are horrific and even bumbling to an extent. Much like the early British imperials that they represent, the martians are arrogant and only win because they have the better technology. Even the destruction of a tripod has severe consequences, a flaming wreckage falling into a lake and boiling the humans hiding there alive. There is nothing pride or goodness to found in destruction and death. Warfare and violence should be the last resort of those trying to survive, yet humanity and martians brandish their weapons without care or empathy for those beneath them.

The Truth, In-Fighting, and the Seemingly Insignificant

These antagonists all represent a morally dangerous part of humanity. The stubborn refusal to change a flawed status quo, the desire to dominate and corrupt those who don’t, needless conquest and bloody war. But despite all their power and influence, these philosophies that the villains believe in fail them in the end.

For White Diamond, her ultimate failure stems from the mortal enemy of all tyrannical systems: the truth. In the last episode of Steven Universe, White Diamond removes the gemstone from our protagonist’s body. Believing that the mischievous Pink Diamond is merely hiding in this human body, White seeks to end this silly game once and for all. But once the gemstone is removed, it does form into Pink Diamond or even Rose Quartz. It forms a bright pink Steven. In the final act of Change Your Mind, White Diamond is faced with reality and all its implications. This gemstone is Steven, it’s always been Steven. This half human is not the irrational or childish person, it’s White. The leader of Homeworld, the one who’s supposed to know all and make things better, is wrong. But in order to do that, she needs to leave her own head. One of the hardest things for a person to do is admit when they’re wrong, that their foundational beliefs holding up a status quo is deeply flawed and objectively false. But accepting that you were wrong, learning from and fixing your mistakes, and becoming something better than what you were before is the greatest reward anyone genuinely looking for redemption can ask for.

For Sauron, his victory over Middle Earth comes so close. Minas Tirith has been ravaged, the army of man outside the black gates are crumbling before his might, and the ring bearer has been corrupted. However, just when all hope is burned to ash, something unexpected happens. Gollum, the epitome of the corruptive power that the one ring possesses, attacks Frodo to get back his precious. Whether it’s through struggling with Frodo like in the movie or not paying attention like in the book, Gollum falls into the fires of Mount Doom with the ring in tow. In the movies, we’re told that the eye of Sauron can pierce through cloud and stone. Because of this detail, I personally wonder what was going through the dark lord’s mind as he watched Gollum plummet to his death. The one ring’s defense, Sauron’s greatest strength, corrupting others into fighting amongst each other, was what led to his ultimate downfall. This is not the first time something like this has happened. Think back to the orcs fighting amongst themselves, or when Wormtongue stabs Saruman in the back. Not to mention that the mercy of both Frodo and Bilbo is what led to Gollum reaching Mount Doom in the first place. Even with all his armies and power, Sauron underestimated the petty infighting amongst his followers and the little acts of kindness of his enemies. Even when the forces of darkness seemingly succeed, all they’ll have left is each other to destroy. As Frodo himself said in the Two Towers book, they can’t conquer forever.

For the martians, their demise comes outwardly from nowhere. Their Tripods fall silent and they all die due to sickness. The book states that the martians either never encountered bacteria like earth’s or they had wiped out all disease on Mars. In both scenarios, the martian’s belief in their untouchable superiority over earth led their death. As soon as their invasion started, they were doomed. War of the Worlds isn’t just a hard look at what humanity could become, but also a love letter to all types of life. Bacteria, the seemingly most insignificant part of our world, is our savior here. It is so, so easy to despise germs and how they make mankind ill. But they also decompose dead flesh, helps the human body digest food, and are just as vital to our world as so many other creatures’ humanity takes for granted. All forms of life has a place in this world and to undervalue, let alone actively want to eliminate, all of it is foolhardy and black-hearted.

It’s how these stories come to an end is why I’m attracted to the idea of villains representing abhorrent philosophies. They show the inherent flaws of such morally bankrupt ideas and how their failures are inevitable. The desire for uniformity and belief that your status quo is flawless cannot stand up to the truth of the situation. Great and powerful conquerors seeking to corrupt will find themselves destroying each other when there is nothing left to dominate, while small acts of generosity and sympathy keep their opponents afloat. Arrogant war lords with their mighty machines will crumble to the things they deem to be insignificant.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi all! I've been craving some fantasy au slow burn but have been wanting something longer than 50k words (I want to be in for the long haul). I've been reading Beauty and the Beast AUs but I could work with something similar/fusion. (I've already read "The Serpent and the Angel" and "Choose Your Princes Wisely" and loved them both) If you can't manage fantasy au then post-s1 would work as well :)

Give me longing! Give me shy touches and stolen looks! Fluff, angst, and/or hurt/comfort, E rating is welcome. Thanks!

Hey. We have a #fantasy au tag, so check that out. There aren't loads of fantasy fics over 50k with slow burn/pining, so searching ao3 was really simple. Here ya go...

I’m Your Landsailor by IneffableDoll (T)

In a small seaside town called Tadfield, one of the last places on Earth where humans and magic coexist, an exiled selkie and a human who ran away from her life accidentally get themselves married in the oldest, most binding sense. The two are forced to stay together until they can find a way to undo it and free the other from their accidental marriage. It sure would be complicated if they started to fall for each other in the process…

through the silent wood by summerofspock (M)

When Aziraphale Eastgate first moves to Tadfield, he struggles to understand the strange culture of the village. They're not friendly or kind or anything he expected from a village in the north. So when he rescues a snake from a snow storm, he's glad for a little company even if it comes in the form of an animal. Unfortunately, in Tadfield, animals are often not what they seem.

Dragon's Heart by Slow_Burn_Sally (E)

“No dear Aziraphale. It must live” She answered him, and turned her gaze to the massive, sleeping beast. Just then Aziraphale noticed the great pool of dark blood that surrounded the thing where it lay. Blood from its wounds. He looked down at his feet and saw the dark blood pooling around his simple cloth shoes, soaking into the woolen fabric. He felt no revulsion or surprise over this. Only sadness and pity for the poor creature.  “It must live” the goddess repeated. “And you must go to it” Not one to refuse the request of a deity, Aziraphale nodded. “Very well then my Goddess” he replied. “When shall I go?” “At once” she replied. “And you must tell no one”

Faeted, Part One by megzseattle (G)

Ezra fell is an English professor at a prestigious academy for boys. Crowley is the lord of the Unseelie court in the lands without sunrise or moonfall. Somehow fate will bring them together.

Cast the Stone and Create the Ripple by The_Bentley (E)

Crowley stared at him, yellow eyes narrowing. “You’ll have to excuse me for not trusting you. Never encountered your kind before. I suggest you get out of here because this much blood in the water is going to attract sharks.” He twisted around, attempting once again to try to dive into the depths, but without his tail free that was proving impossible. He struggled even harder upon seeing his so-called rescuer pull a knife out of his belt. “Not without you,” the land-dweller replied. “Hold still, please. These nets are meant to dig into skin the more one moves.” “If you're going to kill me, please make it quick. Long, painful discorporations seem like a bad way to go.” Prince Crowley is investigating the damage fishing vessels are doing to crops and homes in his father's underwater kingdom. Prince Aziraphale is supposed to be learning to become a scribe. Their worlds are about to collide, putting Crowley's life in danger and revealing that the land-dwelling angels and ocean-dwelling merdemons just might not be that different after all. (Rated T until Chapter 11 when it becomes more NSFW.)

Omens Of Another Kind by WorseOmens (NR)

Crowley is the Dullahan, a notorious omen of death. Happily ever after isn’t in the job description; he’ll soon meet someone who begs to disagree. (Good Omens Folklore AU)

- Mod D

[rastronomicals]

6:40 AM EST January 6, 2024:

Enslaved - “Fusion of Sense and Earth” From the album Ruun (May 22, 2006)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

File under: Progressive Black Metal

–

[overthinkinglotr]

I wrote a short fanfic based on this tumblr post discussing monarchy in The Hobbit! Because while LOTR takes place in a magical fairy tale world where monarchy can be good, it is funny to bring the logic of anti monarchical revolutions to middle earth.

The summary:

“It is simply the nature of all kings to kill, plunder, and hoard wealth— in the same way it is the nature of dragons,” Bilbo said.

Bilbo Baggins has lived all his life in The Shire, where leaders are democratically elected. He has never met a king before. Royal families have always been nothing more than characters in stories from far away.

But after meeting several haughty warlike kings on the Quest for Erebor, Bilbo finally realizes why the Shire has no monarchy — it is a ridiculous horrible form of government and no one with any hobbit-sense would ever agree to it.

Following the Battle of the Five Armies, Bilbo explains representational democracy to King Thorin Oakenshield. Overwhelmed by the hobbit’s wisdom, Thorin impulsively converts Erebor into a democratic republic and retires from public life.

But what will happen when Bilbo and Thorin’s actions set off a wave of anti-monarchical democratic revolutions across Middle Earth? Will they ever be allowed to live in peace?

(A book/movie fusion tragicomedy about the struggles of searching for an ending where “they all live happily ever after to the end of their days.”)

[i-m-art-ix]

More Headcanons about FSM family

10#

As a child, Lloyd resembled his father, only he had a different hair color, but as he grew older, he began to look less and less like his father (seasons 2-7). In seasons 8-15 he started to look more like his grandfather when he was Lloyd's age until in season 16 he looked identical to FSM (When FSM was a teenager, of course) (apart from the eyes, FSM had one purple and the other gold)

11#

In some flashbacks we see FSM wielding a sword, so I say that FSM is a master swordsman, and considering that Lloyd became the second master of spinjitzu (The Ultimate Spinjitzu Master) in total and was supposed to learn FSM's fighting style, which brings us to the fact that Lloyd is a master swordsman, because in the series we only see him using a sword (I don't remember him fighting with any other weapon), so the best sword master was FSM (no one can match him then or now) and right behind him in second place is Lloyd.

12#

After season 10 and "Lloyd's death", Wu has nightmares that Lloyd didn't wake up, that they really lost him, every time he is terrified and goes to check if Lloyd is okay, Wu can't lose the last member of his family. One time when Wu went to check on Lloyd, he wasn't in the room and Wu almost had a panic attack, he searched around the monastery until he found Lloyd in the kitchen as soon as he saw him he ran to Lloyd and hugged him and didn't want to let go, while Lloyd was completely confused and a little scared, later they talked about it and from then on, Lloyd began to be more careful during missions so as not to give his uncle a heart attack.

13#

Lloyd, due to his heritage and elemental powers, is strongly connected to ninjago, if something threatens the land he can feel it, when all dimensions merged Lloyd felt great pain due to the ninjago lands being torn apart. After the fusion, he realized that because of this event he had scars on his chest that looked like cracks.

14#

Lloyd's golden power hurt him when he fought the Overlord, he didn't feel it because of the adrenaline, but later it turned out that the golden power was too powerful for Lloyd's body (mainly because of his human part) so after the fight he realized that it was on his hands (from his hands to his shoulders) scars appeared that looked like they had been struck by lightning, they were golden in color and when Lloyd used his power they began to glow. Lloyd, of course, didn't tell anyone and he just started traveling around ninjago to learn how to control it better and see if his body gets used to it. Lloyd still has those scars to this day and come on the golden power is gone the scars still glow when he uses his elemental power but this time in green.

15#

After becoming the Golden Ninja, Lloyd received many powers and improvements, for example, his healing became faster, he had greater endurance and improved senses but one of the strangest changes was that the blood turned gold, yes Lloyd had golden blood.

16#

Lloyd is literally the reincarnation of FSM, he has his powers, he can do what he does and he is a perfect hybrid (a combination of Oni, dragon and human) same as FSM (only FSM wasn't human but still a perfect hybrid).

17#

Due to his heritage and being the next incarnation of FSM, he has perfected Spinjitzu and uses it often in his fighting style (I don't know if it's just me, but Lloyd seems to use Spinjitzu more than the others)

18#

Due to the power he has and his connection to Ninjago, Lloyd when angry can cause cracks in the ground or mini earth tremors, which are usually harmless but still need to be careful, that's why Lloyd has the best composure of all the ninjas (well, except Zen)

[weskie]

What You Deserve (Albert Wesker x amab!Reader)

18+ | 2700 words, salacious use of tentacles, post re5 wesker, one of those things that was meant to be sweet but became nasty, afab!reader version here | Fic Directory

You've taken such good care of him. Isn't it time he rewards you? Be careful though. Some things are still a little… new.

You were something else.  Frankly you always have been, but now more than ever.

 Despite waves of self loathing and rampant depression of which he would never confess, Wesker’s recovery has been as smooth as you could make it.  Pain medication kept most of the lingering aches away and Uroboros had ensured he lived to see another day.  Other than a weakened body riddled with scar tissue from his little dunk in the fires of the Earth, he couldn’t complain terribly much.

Even after his fusion with Uroboros, Wesker was still a mere man unable to escape the more… basic urges.  He’s always considered arousal to be like an itch.  Sure he could scratch it, but he could also ignore it and let it go away.  He often chose the latter, but, with little else to occupy him besides literature or your company, such a choice became significantly more difficult.

You notice his state quickly, though you say nothing of the tented blanket that only seems to continue rising the more he tries to ignore it.  You simply take his hand and squeeze, occupied with your laptop while Wesker rereads the same line of his book over and over again in a poor attempt to settle down.  When he tips his head back against the mountain of pillows he’s propped against, you give him a knowing look.

“Want some help?”  You ask, thumb brushing against his knuckles.

Does he?  He did go waist deep in lava. Thus far, it had seemed Uroboros took care to heal his nerves in all other places, and he’s never noticed a lack of sensation in the times where he’s had to touch himself to bathe, but what if he can’t feel enough to… perform well for you?  Was it even the full act of sex that you were offering or simply assistance in relieving him?

Perhaps the uncertainty was written across his face because you turn to face him, hand rising to stroke his cheek and trail into his unstyled hair.  Your touch spurs another aching pulse between his legs.  “Only if you want to,” you say sweetly. 

He pretends to consider your offer, but his answer was yes the very moment you spoke.  The second your thumb brushes his lip, he’s tugging you onto his lap.  He swallows your protests with ease, groaning weakly into the kiss.  Wesker knows you’re afraid to put your weight down on him, still so worried about agitating his aches and pains.  He has half a mind to grip your hips and help you grind against him, but you’re taking charge before he can.

“Let me,” you murmur, lips trailing down his neck.  You halt at the collar of his sleep shirt, moving away only to help him pull it over his head.  Your hands land on his sides, smoothing up and down slowly, stroking reverently at the juxtaposition of softness and patches of scarring.  Each motion brings you closer and closer to his chest until you’re kneading his pectorals, thumbs brushing against rosy buds in such a way that leaves him panting.

It really has been a while… the throb of his cock confirms it.  He has half a mind to just tear at your clothes and rush you to take him, but you seem to sense his impatience just as easily as you’d noticed his need.  “M’gonna take care of you,” you whisper sweetly, palms coaxing him to rest fully against the pillows. “You deserve it.” You slip so easily down his body, blanket falling away to reveal black boxer briefs that have clearly garnered a little wet spot from such light teasing.  “Just relax.  Shut your eyes, sweetheart.”

He does as you say, releasing a shuddering breath in anticipation for what’s to come.  It turns to a gasp the second your tongue laves the dip of his hips.  Your hands steady him with gentle pressure, shirking their duty when you decide to skim your nails over ticklish flesh and wring a breathy giggle from him.

He can feel your smile as you kiss further down, sensation dulling when your peppered love finds its way to the band of his underwear, renewing once more when you peck sweetly at his inner thighs.  Wesker’s hips seek you of their own accord and he’s lucky enough to feel at least one press of your lips to his covered length before you make your way back up.  He practically bucks into your grasp when you take hold of him. 

“Seems like everything's in working order,” you coo playfully in his ear.  

Wesker finds his lower lip to gnaw on while you stroke him slowly.  His hands paw at your clothes, eagerly trying to expose you.  His eyes flutter open, pupils blown wide around distorted hues of red and blue still vying for dominance over one another.  He’s just about got your shirt off when that hand of yours dives beneath his waistband, milking the most humiliating whine from him imaginable.

What's wrong with him? Why is he so… desperate? 

His hands leave you to shimmy out of his underwear, hissing at the cool air and the mere sight of your hand around his weeping cock.  He turns back to you, keening into a kiss as he tries once more to tug at your clothes.  He hoists your leg over his hip, palm smoothing to take a greedy handful of your rear, playing with your flesh as you’d done with him.  Everything about you is bliss itself, from your slow, torturous strokes to his cock to the slide of your tongue against his.  You should be bare against him, skin to skin, letting him feel every inch of you. He needs it. He needs you. 

Suddenly, a humming laugh escapes you, reverberating against his tongue before you break away.  “Again, huh?”  You breathe.  

Again… yes. 

Once more, tendrils have wound their way around you to do his bidding, but this time for more… salacious reasons.  Each one wriggles under your clothes in some way or another.  You aid them in their quest to strip you, tugging your shirt and pants away with ease while the masses slither just as eagerly as his hands explore.

It’s so cute how you squirm for him.  It’s as if the tables have been turned oh so perfectly, leaving you just as red in the face as you’d made him.  He may not have his full strength yet, but this?  This more than makes up for it.  One tentacle coils at your waist, holding you perfectly in place as the others find themselves far more… occupied.  Your giggles turn to breathy moans, each one sung perfectly for him.  You’re like an instrument only he can play, your pleasure a melody only he can create.

“W-Wo– Ah!”  You gasp, head lolling to the side the very second one of those slimy appendages creeps between your legs.  Your first instinct is to clench your thighs together, though you don’t get very far with having been straddling him. The tip of it ghosts over the length of your cock, making you buck and whine.  “Al!” 

Tantalizing was… not a strong enough word for the sight before him.  These appendages have always carried a degree of wetness, some leaky black ooze that only ever left a small mess, but now?  Oh, now they leave clear glistening trails along your flesh that make his cock utterly ache.  It’s as if he’s painting you with his own arousal, picture perfect and drenched in his love just like you should be.  The tentacles trail over where he wants to see you marked most: your chest, your neck… all the way down to your twitching shaft. 

“Al, I–” You try, but you’re whimpering as more slithering lengths join in to curl around your thighs.  He didn’t even have to lift a finger…  There’s so many things he could do with you.  He could lift you, surely, to his face.  Slide his tongue that’s been so starved for you from base to tip and wrap his lips around the head of you, suckling away at your dribbles of arousal.   Or he could lower you onto his cock right now.  Forget effort; you wouldn’t have to do a thing.  He could simply maneuver you accordingly, bounce you up and down with their grip on your body until you were both fucked senseless.  Or…

Wesker’s chest rises and falls with each open mouthed breath, watching with wide eyes as three smaller tendrils approach your hole.  You squirm, but you show no sign for him to stop even as they alternate swiping along your opening.

“I-I thought– mm!”  You try, words as shaky as your trembling body. “T-Thought I was gonna t-take care of you instead…”  

“You are…” he breathes, utterly hypnotized as more tentacles join the fray and suddenly, without warning, you’re spread completely for him, slithering lengths taking your legs while smaller ones find their way to your rear, baring your hole to him.  You’ve been put on exhibit, and oh… how you writhe and keen under his sopping touches.  All Wesker can do is simply lie there, cock torturously hard at the sight of you like this.  He dares not touch himself; he dares not even imagine it lest one of those lengths creep to coil around it to satisfy the urge.

“A-Albert– ngh!”  Every cry you make fuels whatever hidden desires lurk below the surface of his mind.  Nothing in the world could’ve prepared him for the sight of an extra thick tentacle slinking along your leg, coiling up and up until it presses at your entrance.  “O-Oh my god!”  You mewl, head falling back.  “I don’t– I don’t think I can– that’s too big… Al, I don’t think I can– Ah!”

Exhilaration runs down his spine as though every nerve in his body fired at once.  Watching it press into you, seeing every ounce of slick drip from its effort to wriggle inside as you keen and mewl and cry out his name over and over again as if to pray to him…  Wesker licks his lips, panting heavily, fighting to keep control despite that knot in his gut threatening to give at any moment.  His fists bite into the sheets, threads popping as they give way to his strength.  

“O-Oh g-god,” you sob, barely audible over wet squelches.  “P-Please… Al, p-please!”

“I…” he tries, but he has no words.  Nothing in the world could possibly explain this– why it was happening, why he was allowing it, why… why he fucking loves it.  

But he does know why, deep down.  Past that layer of perfect prudence and discipline lies the truth.  You deserve this.  You deserve every ounce of pleasure he can stuff into you.  For all that you’ve done for him… you deserve everything. 

You cry out over and over again as the thickness fucks in and out of you, slick drizzling from your ass onto the bed.  It soaks his hips and cock, oozing off to coat the sheets and surely seep down into what was now a ruined mattress.  But he doesn’t care.  Not one bit.

The tentacles wriggle all over you, slithering and rubbing against tender flesh, restraining the intense trembling of your legs as you dangle helplessly.  He can practically hear it hitting the depths of you, each noisy, wet thrust coupled with your sweet songs a promise of your never ending pleasure.  And oh… you deserve it.  You deserve all that he can possibly give you.  You were there for everything.  The good, the bad, the horrifying…  Every part of him is yours, which means you get this, too.  

The first time you cry out his name is perfection in and of itself.   You come undone so beautifully, cock spurting your release onto his chest.  He has to grasp himself and squeeze the base damn near to the point of pain just to keep from blowing his load right then and there.  Watching you practically seize in his slithery grasp, hearing you gag and gurgle on one that had slipped between your lips, knowing you’re so fucked out of your mind that you could do little else than suckle its length as if it were his cock… 

Even then, it’s like he can feel it.  The sensation is dull, but it is there.  Your lazy tongue, the clench of your throat, the warmth of your breath, the throbbing quiver of your walls– it’s all fucking there, and it’s all for him.  You belong to him.  You’ve shown him so many times, over and over again that he has you, heart, mind, body, and soul.

“That’s it, dearheart…” he coos, shaky voice barely more than a murmur.  “You’re– you’re doing so perfect… You’re taking me so well.”

He feels you clench up again, walls trembling as you approach your next release.  You always did like when he’d purr such things in your ear.  It warms his heart in the strangest way to see it work just the same now.  

“O-One more for me.”  Wesker rasps brokenly, heavy breaths leaving him as he watches with an unyielding gaze.  He will not miss a second of this.  “It feels good, doesn’t it…? I can feel it too.”  He wants nothing more than to hear you come undone for him once more.  As if understanding his thoughts, the appendage in your mouth slips free, prompting you to gasp and choke desperately for air.  

You moan nonstop as if it were the only sound left that you could make.  It’s like you’ve been robbed entirely of higher thought and fell into a mindless state, one that could only comprehend the thickness ramming in and out of your hole.  Your sweet noises pitch up more and more with every passing second, signaling your next climax is near.

Wesker wills the tentacles to tilt you upright, the big one still fucking into you despite the position shift, and you whine weakly at the change.  “Come for me, my sweet.” He commands, rising from his position to cup your cheeks between his hands.  As if fully understanding his order, you do exactly that, falling apart with a breathless scream cut off by the thick length slipping from your ass while the others force you down onto his cock.  “Oh, god!”  He roars, face falling into the crook of your neck to muffle his own cries as his release hits him like a lightning bolt, coating your ooze slicked walls with his seed in heavy spurts.  

Albert’s eyes are clenched shut, but he swears his vision has gone white.  There’s nothing.  Nothing at all is left in this world except for your limp form in his hold and the heat of your flesh between his teeth.  Even when the oxygen in his lungs has gone stale, he still forgets to breathe.  It’s your trembling fingers curling at his nape that remind him he’s even still alive.

The two of you remain like that for some time, long enough that his legs go stiff and each slithering length once wrapped around your body retreats back into him.  You’re both covered in ooze, but he can’t find it in himself to care.  Not yet, at least.

You’re limp in his grasp, but he can tell you’re awake from the occasional scritch to the base of his neck or breath fanning against his skin.

“I… apologize.” He eventually murmurs.  It’s all he can think to say.  Certainly, you both would be having quite the conversation about this eventually.  But, for now, this much is due.  “For… having lost control.”  It isn’t even an exaggeration.  At some point, all thought went out the door.  There was only the two of you and every salacious desire he couldn’t suppress. 

He needs to become better at that.  

“Mm,” you hum weakly, fingers threading through his hair the way they always do in the afterglow.  “You’re full of surprises…”  There’s a hint of amusement in your voice.  That good natured softness with which you’ve always treated him.  “We gotta… mm, when my legs work again… it’s shower time.”

He couldn’t agree more.  For now though, he means to simply hold you, still buried within your heat.  You feel like home.  What luck to have found you…

And what bliss to know you’ll stay.

[wolfsrainrules]

A Quiet Night AU- A DC/ A Quiet Place fusion thought Long Post

Sooooo I was watching A Quiet Place (which I love deeply, it was such a DIFFERENT handle on horror movies, watching that in a theater was a RIDE) and I am neck deep in DC and had t h o u g h t s. Please keep in mind that I have only fandom knowledge of DC and am playing with the death angels (name of the Quiet Place creatures) make up for this au: 

To Start:

AU is an AOB verse, cause I wanted to play with what a situation like this would do to instincts and packs and I need everyone to do the thing we do with comics where we apply “Comic Book Logic” to why these death angels succeed in invading the Earth. Why the metas and supers didn’t get them out, because this verse would be taking place AFTER the world has been invaded, and the creatures have wiped out QUITE a large chunk of Earth’s population.  Read the VERY LONG ramble about this verse under the cut.

We have Alphas Jay and Cass, Omegas Tim and Dick, Damian is unpresented but approaching the time he would present properly, and he’s an Alpha-to-be. Alfred, Steph and Duke are Betas. 

The Death Angels: For those not in the know, they are large, kind of spider-like in movements, VERY fast, and fully armored. The armor stands up to bullets and knives, and explosions can toss them but don’t seem to do damage. They’re entirely blind, have claws and a mouth full of sharp teeth and their hearing is VERY sharp. Their head opens to expose soft insides that work like a super-ear, tracking sound, and that’s really the only vulnerable spot, and they can’t swim. That’s all canon to their verse. I’m playing with them a little, so that the planet they come from is laced so deeply with kryptonite they’ve adapted to sort of work on supers, as in they can’t use their powers on them. I’m upping that armor to be stronger than standard canon, as we do have metas running around and I want them to really only be vulnerable while hunting and exposing the ear to hunt. 

It means to kill them, you have to get close enough to be heard, to be HUNTED. You have to be clever. Usually with some kind of blade, as most other things (especially guns) are too loud, and even if it works it brings the hundreds of death angels in the area, every single one that heard it, your way and then your fucked. On top of all of that- if they close the plates of armor that shield their ‘ear’ bullets don’t penetrate it, and blades skitter off. You have to get to that soft unshielded ear to take them out. The hearing was picked up real quick by the Bats and they tried to use that.

On technicality, very high pitched feedback sounds can fuck with their hearing, and cause them pain, usually making he plates that cover the ear kind of…lock up? And then they stagger around, can’t track people or what’s around them, and the ‘ear’ stays exposed cause the plates of armor are locked in an open position, even if they’re jerking around like animatronics move trying to make the sound make sense and stop hurting.

I’m messing with that cause I want to make this more difficult lol. If you manage to mess with the main method of hearing, the death angels are evolved to slam the armor plating that covers their ‘ear’ closed, block out the sound, and shift to a low clicking-purr sound that vibrates their body and acts as a makeshift sonar type ability over the kind of echolocation they’d been using, reading the vibrations of it through their legs and basically triangulating prey and obstacles around them and it makes them more dangerous because it’s a response to being hurt and they do NOT appreciate it. 

In canon rain/waterfalls can hide you, if you keep the sound level under the sound of the water. I’m going to keep that, saying the rain hitting the ground hard enough can sort of hide people from that sonar too, if you move carefully. Caves are also a good place to hide- provided the death angels don't get inside. Which means the Bat-Cave is a kind of ‘safe’ space, far enough underground they can speak softly, and the equipment inside is safe to run, so long as they are careful with the clock-entrance. 

I babbled to wintersnight (@iphoenixrising) for a good while about this AU (@north-peach doesn’t like horror, she thinks the protags are all stupid and it drives her nuts so she missed this ramble lol)  but Winter followed my logic and encouraged me to actually post this somewhere lol

Leading into the Next Important Thing: 

Cities are death traps. All that confined space and the noise of it? The death angels came in like moths to a flame. Large groups of moving people trying to evacuate? Too much noise. Death angels stampede in and hit the group like a pack of wolves cornering prey. 

Gotham was one city of many that hit hard and fast. The Bats are good at what they do,  but they’re not omniscient no matter what anyone thinks. It was so fast. 

This verse would be covering the AFTER of the invasion of the death angels, AFTER they’ve swarmed the world, after so many have died. This verse would be the ‘post-apocalypse’ survival AFTER. 

Zeta-tubes are technically usable to get them out, and up to the Watchtower, but the sound of them activating is loud enough to pull the death angels, and the tube gets destroyed in their hunt for the sound. This also works in reverse- if you use them to come back down, the creatures will swarm towards whoever arrived, and the tubes still end up getting destroyed.

Coming back to the AOB concept: 

I love how all of what’s happening opens the chance to play with their instincts and protective territorial instincts. The urge to den down in a defensive position. To patrol their chunk of space, keep their pack alive and safe 

To fight. 

They were all scattered when the invasion happened, so they have to work their way back to the cave by foot, cars are too loud, and their grapleguns make enough sound to also be unusable when firing as well as anchoring down. They can’t open the hidden entrances for vehicles, it’s too loud and opens a way straight in, so they have to find other ways in. If they can get into the manor, the clock would be an option, it opens smooth and quiet, but the trade off is risking any sounds inside the cave traveling up the stairs and getting the location found. 

So most of the Bats running around Gotham are going to sneak into the hidden natural entrances into the cave systems and navigate back to the cave. Defenses and redirects are going to be set up to prevent death angels from getting in.

Which leads to my favorite part of this AU:

How this situation combines with AOB instincts in the Bats specifically. 

How clever the Bats are. 

I want to play with that. Wanna address how smart they are, their instincts going absolutely feral-survival-mode wild in this kind of life-or-death situation, with threats actually actively hunting them, zero chance of reasoning with them.

Wanna address the genetic memory of packs before cities were made being drawn out. Wanna look at how packs actually hunt when those instincts are stirred and it’s life-or-death, how the Bats work together. When an Alpha, Omega or Beta is pushed to the brink, pushed to feral, their pack, their territory all threated, all in actual danger by something that can and will hunt them back. I want to see their senses cranked up and used to track death angels down, hunt and kill them.

How terrifying it probably is to go into rut or heat in this kind of situation. Being hazy and vulnerable, instinct driven, unable to focus well, in a situation like this one. How, once the situation has settled correctly into their psyche and bones, it might change. The mess that is a presentation heat or rut in this kind of hell, because Damian is within the age of when it happens (between 13-16 is average in my head, this AU places Damian at 15 in my head, so he’s due for it). What it does to the pack of the person in heat or rut for them to be so vulnerable while something like this is happening.   

The protective pup-instincts triggered by an unpresented Damian. What the urge to shield the pack, keep it alive and safe, and protect pups might look like when combined with the hero-vigilante instincts in them, and finding pups who survived the invasion, but are abandoned or the last of their packs, with no one and nothing left. What the drive to protect and expand their packs, keep them alive and thriving might look like.

The territorial instincts playing out, in a hunted/hunting situation with- as Winter put it- “The backdrop of Gotham and how many traps they'd set since this is their territory and they know every rusty fire escape, crumbling Bailbondsmen, and gargoyle in this entire city.”

She understood where I was going with it lol. I adore how well they’d know Gotham, and exploring how that knowledge would play out in setting up traps and triggerable distractions for the death angels, to help in hunting and killing them. How it’d be fed by those territorial instincts of their city being invaded, their people killed, and their pack in so much danger. 

On top of all of that, I also like exploring how the pack leader (Omega Bruce) vs pack alpha (Jason) would react in a situation like this, and the give-and-take of compromise and keeping their pack safe in such a situation.

I imagine, when all this starts happening, the Bats are collectively scattered all over Gotham. When it happens, they try fighting first, but the creatures are fast and deadly. They figure out sound being what they use to track quickly, that they need to be quiet, and they’re trying to save who they can but… in a city, always moving, always going, full of crime and all the screams with only so few Bats and everywhere ELSE having the same issues at the same time?

They get forced to retreat and fallback. None of them are sure where the others are, who’s in active danger, they can’t talk to each other over comms, can’t make any sound too loud.

They just have to be dead quiet and make their way to the cave on foot, make jumps that they know they can land silently on buildings, watch for the death angels when they move, being so so very careful. Unable to check in and see if their packmates are alive or not. Bonds blocked on the job, to not distract their pack, and having to KEEP them that way, while headed for the cave, to not distract each other coming home. 

Oracle being in the Clocktower- frantically shutting down the clock so it doesn’t ring over the city and bring the creatures to her, shutting down any alarms or alerts that could be too loud from her equipment. Sending the news all over Gotham any way she can, as silent as she can, on how the creatures work, and how the survivors can use that knowledge to STAY alive. 

Being scared as she watches trackers, and prays, terrified any time they’re still too long that they may be hurt or dying. Praying she doesn’t see the trackers start moving a vehicle speeds, cause it means they’re going to get chased down by creatures OR a creature has grabbed them and soon the alerts for vitals will scream at her. 

Dick shows up at her tower to get her out with Damian on his heels, so they can get her to the cave, because a city destroyed by invasion is not really wheelchair accessible, much less getting all the way over to the cave silently while trying to get through the rubble. 

Now for my favorite boy:

Tim. Tim in this AU has lost his pack bonds while on Brucequest. He hasn’t accepted a place back in the pack, hurt and distrustful of if the others mean it, after having been pushed out of the pack in his eyes, rejected and unwanted. 

They’ve been trying to fix that, mending bridges and working hard to prove he not only has a place but is WANTED. Building bridges back out with him. By the time the invasion happens, he’s actually starting to believe them- he’s coming to the manor, interacting, trusting they’ll back him, save him, welcome him.  He’s coming around- but he still hasn’t accepted a pack bond yet. Not again.

Didn’t feel quite ready for it, so he doesn’t have a bond with any of the other Bats. He doesn’t know if they’re alive or dead, can’t sense the bond and know for sure, and they can’t check on HIM like that either. 

The panic of both sides of that equation is REAL. All of them have seen these creatures hunt and kill and destroy. And they don’t know if-

This event, this potential of loss on both sides is what makes Tim realize he is NOT willing to keep going without that bond in place. That he wants to feel them in his head again. He could have died or lost any of them, and never had the chance to be bonded to them as pack again, and-

He can’t do that again. He wants the bonds nestled in his chest, wound around his ribs and heart, thriving and anchored in his head. I may write the scene I have in my head out for Tim coming back to the cave last and just having a breakdown cause everyone is THERE, they’re alive. 

This AU is going to be tagged “Quiet Night AU” on my blog, so keep an eye out for more. 

And if you made it this far into this monster post,  PLEASE feel free to send asks in about this verse, I wanna think about/talk about it and share. My brain is turning over all kinds of snapshots of moments in this verse, and I’d love to hear what yall wanna see from it, what questions or scenes you have in mind. Just address in the Asks that it’s for the Quiet Night AU. Edit: I ended up writing the blurble with Tim making it back to the cave found HERE