#Tin Can Belief

[artjipson]

Matt Derda Best of 2022

Matt Derda Best of 2022

One of our favorite discoveries of the past few years was Matt Derda & The High Watts! They released a stellar record in 2022 and so we thought what better way to celebrate an amazing year in music than to ask Matt to write about a few of his favorite releases from this past trip around the sun, and to our joy he agreed! Thank you, Matt! 2022 was definitely the year of independent music for me.…

[dad-galaxy]

🐊🦩

[bengallemon]

i think being raised mostly atheist/agnostic (with my eldest brother aka secondary caretaker being. very anti religion) was one of the worst things to happen to me

[ozzgin]

Its been 6 months😭😭 pleaasseeee make a part 2 of the android x human story im beggingggg😭

-H❤️

Yandere! Android x Reader (II)

Featuring your assigned android partner who is not as devoid of humanity as you originally thought.

Content: female reader, AI yandere, mildly NSFW, based on Caves of Steel

[Part 1] | [More original works]

The case had been solved.

Not only that, but you'd managed to prove that human officers were just as efficient as their robot counterparts. The Commissioner was beyond ecstatic, pacing back and forth in his office and finding new ways to praise your detective skills.

"That'll show those Spacers. They think some glorified tin box can match our skill?"

You frowned at his words and glanced to your side, where the android was sitting. He observed the Commissioner with the same polite smile, no hint of disagreement on his features. Was he not insulted? You questioned him once the formal meeting had finished.

"I have no reason to be offended, (Y/N). It is a personal opinion, and thus I have no control over it."

"So you don't mind people disliking robots to such an extent?"

He pondered your statement.

"I would certainly be upset if it was you who harbored the disdain. The beliefs of other humans hold no meaning to me otherwise."

You couldn't tell if he said it out of politeness, or if he actually meant it. Most likely the former, in order to part on good terms. After all, your partnership has reached its completion. He'd return to the Spacer Colony with his report on human customs, and you'd go back to your regular job.

Except he never left. Days later, he was still sipping on his morning coffee, lounging at your table. You fiddled with your cup in contemplation. Was there anything else left to do?

"When are you leaving, actually?"

The pale man raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

"Is my presence here of such significant disturbance?"

"What? No!" you swiftly exclaimed, stumbling on your words. His lips widened in yet another cheeky grin. He was teasing you again.

"My assignment on Earth is done, thus I should have returned to the Colony already. That's what you're wondering about, yes? I am awaiting a response from my superiors."

"Whether you can go back?"

"No, whether my transfer has been accepted. I have applied to be your permanent partner."

You could feel your cheeks burning with heat. Was it that obvious to the synthetic that you enjoyed his company? Then again, he wouldn't have gone through such motions just for your sake.

"Why did you..." you probed sheepishly. There was no logical reason for him to keep working in a poorer, less advanced environment.

"Because I want to continue spending time with you."

Nonsense. An artificial being wouldn't make its decision based on such mundane, emotional reasons.

"I don't believe you."

"I understand. It is a faulty answer to come out of a machine. Though unlike common AI assistants, we have been invested with the capacity to develop likes and dislikes. Interests. Wants. It helps with variety and individualization."

"And you want to stay here? If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you have a crush on me or something", you attempted to joke.

A few moments of uncomfortable silence. Had you gone too far with your humor? Was it too cliché of a sentence? You turned away, tucking some strands of hair behind your ear. You just had to be witty, huh?

"I'm afraid I do not know what to tell you, (Y/N)."

"You don't need to say anything, it was a poor choice of-"

"Many social aspects have been implemented into my behavioral network. Workplace rapport, friendships, intimate relationships. What seems to be lacking is the transition from one to another. I know how to act as a romantic partner, but how does one achieve such a title in the first place?"

You gazed at him, incredulous. What was he trying to say?

"I am trying to convey that I am indeed infatuated with you. Which, then, makes my initial explanation dishonest: while I do appreciate our fruitful work cooperation, it is not a main reason for my decision. I hope this clears up any misunderstandings."

You'd never been a romantic. You sometimes flipped through sample pages of contemporary romance books at stores and community centers, but they always felt forcefully cheesy. Predictable. Consequently, you never had any grand dreams of passionate confessions under the rain.

On the other hand, you also didn't expect to be asked out in such a mechanical, calculated manner. Or that a machine would be the suitor. Yet there was something charming about his approach. For the first time since meeting him at the border, you saw him struggle. There was something human-like in his uncertainty.

You stood up from the table, and walked towards the android. Then, you placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, expressing the mutual feeling and understanding.

His eyes bore an eerie glint to them. It was most kind of you to offer a common ground, but he knew better. The affections you held for him were, with utmost certainty, a mere fraction of whatever overwhelmed him from the moment he encountered you. Limerence, obsession, compulsion, there were many definitions that aptly described his otherwise unexplainable desires towards you. Even more unexplainable was the fact they'd evolved from a blank slate, a programmed agent with no previous knowledge on feelings or humans.

You noticed his hesitation.

"Is there anything else troubling you presently?" you nudged.

Nothing of immediate urgency. Well, not for you, at least. The android remained thoughtful. What were the variables which needed to be met in order to initiate a sexual encounter? Would it have been inappropriate for him to suggest intercourse straight after this conversation? To him, it was a natural escalation he'd considered many times in the past. To you, it could've come as a sudden, crass, and hurried proposal.

He reached for your wrist and discreetly pressed a thumb against your skin. Judging from your resting heart rate, facial expression, and localized temperature, there was a fair chance you wouldn't reject his advances. Once the statistical risk had been assessed, he pulled you in for a kiss.

"Would it be possible to continue this in your bedroom?" he inquired, standing up.

"Alright, just don't...ask for approval for every single step" you retorted. You'd rather not become a narrator of your own pounding.

You open your eyes with a squint, greeted by unexpected natural light flooding your bedroom. Someone must’ve lifted the hologram blinds.

“My apologies, I hadn’t considered the discomfort it would cause you. My Spacer colony uses artificial lightning, though I am becoming rather fond of the natural sun rays here.”

Your android partner is meticulously preparing his outfit for the day. Judging by the stark nakedness and the glistening skin, you suppose he’s had a shower while you were still sleeping. You involuntarily furrow your brows and blush at the sight. He notices your embarrassment. 

“A most surprising reaction. You have seen the very same genital organ…”, he says as he quickly checks his wristwatch, “...precisely eight hours and forty-five minutes ago.”

“It’s just…most people get dressed once they start doing other things. I also wear a towel for coverage when I come out of the shower.”

He processes your words.

“Hmmm. Illogical, but it explains your reaction.”

You stand up and stretch with a prolonged yawn. Suddenly, a revelation hits you: your mind flashes with images of the android fondling your body, your ears ring with the shameless moans you’ve let out throughout the night. Your face turns pale.

“Listen, when is your next functional inspection?” you ask, without waiting for the synthetic to answer. “Will they, uh…will they have access to all of your memories?”

You know that the android permanently records all data and saves it into a memory unit. It’s a pointless fear, of course. The Spacers couldn’t care less about irrelevant details. If the intended tasks are fulfilled, what happens on the side is out of their concern. Yet you don’t exactly appreciate the possibility of your personal deeds airing like this, before the eyes of multiple engineers. 

“You may rest assured, whatever involves your privacy will not be included in the examination.”

“Do you get to decide what is checked and what isn’t?”

“No, most data is sampled randomly.”

You stare at him, confused.

“Then how-”

“It is not common practice, nor encouraged by our code of ethics. I can, however, choose which information is available to begin with.”

“What? I thought you’re fully controlled by whoever created you. If they so desired, couldn’t they open you up and take whatever they require?”

The robot smiles at your assumption and takes a few steps towards you.

“Once an android model is finished, one can no longer modify the processor. Not without compromising everything else with it. It is not a device to be deconstructed, (Y/N).” He taps his temple, then continues: “I am a biocomputer. While most of my parts are mechanical, my processor is a cortical organoid developed in a laboratory. A human brain, if you will.”

Somehow, the discovery fills you with dread. A living organ, encapsulated within a machine. What does that say about consciousness? About self-awareness? The Spacers didn't just tinker with metal scraps and smart computers. They artificially birthed life.

You were always under the impression that your robot companion is closer to the computer you have on your desk. Billions of lines of code within a black box, which then lead to spontaneous, novel interactions with the outside world. To think that at the very core of his functions lies a clump of living cells...

Perhaps you weren't so different, after all. The line between machines and humans is suddenly blurred.

[high-priestess-house]

𝖀𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌 & 𝖀𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝕸𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖈𝖆𝖑 𝕮𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖕𝖔𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊𝖘

Witchcraft magical correspondences refer to the associations made between various objects, substances, times, and events with specific magical effects or purposes. These correspondences have deep historical roots and derive from a blend of multiple sources, including ancient alchemy, early science, cultural symbolism, religious beliefs, and intentionality.

Ancient Alchemy

Alchemy, the precursor to modern chemistry, played a significant role in shaping magical correspondences. Alchemists sought to understand the mysteries of matter and the transformation of substances, often imbuing their experiments with spiritual and mystical significance. For example, the seven classical planets (Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn) were associated with specific metals (gold, silver, mercury, copper, iron, tin, and lead, respectively). These associations were believed to reflect the planets’ influences on earthly matters and human affairs. Alchemical texts also explored the relationships between colors, elements, and spiritual principles, influencing the development of magical correspondences in witchcraft.

Ancient alchemy holds a significant place in the history of science, philosophy, and mystical traditions, influencing various fields and practices, including witchcraft. The importance of ancient alchemy can be understood through its contributions to the development of modern science, its philosophical and spiritual dimensions, and its enduring influence on magical and esoteric traditions.

The Great Work (Magnum Opus): Central to alchemy is the concept of the Great Work, which symbolizes the alchemist’s quest for spiritual and material transformation. This process involves the purification and perfection of substances, often mirroring the alchemist’s inner spiritual journey toward enlightenment and self-realization.

Symbolism and Allegory: Alchemical texts are rich in symbolism and allegory, using metaphors to convey complex philosophical and spiritual concepts. Symbols such as the philosopher’s stone, the ouroboros (a serpent eating its own tail), and the four elements (earth, air, fire, water) encapsulate profound ideas about the nature of reality, transformation, and the interconnectedness of all things.

Hermetic Tradition: Alchemy is closely associated with Hermeticism, a philosophical and spiritual tradition based on the writings attributed to Hermes Trismegistus. Hermetic principles, such as “As above, so below” and the unity of opposites, permeate alchemical thought and emphasize the correspondence between the macrocosm (the universe) and the microcosm (the individual).

Magical Correspondences: Alchemical principles and symbols have been integrated into various magical and esoteric traditions. The associations between planets, metals, and elements in alchemy have become foundational correspondences in many forms of magic and witchcraft.

Transmutation and Transformation: The alchemical goal of transmutation, particularly the transformation of base metals into gold, has a symbolic counterpart in magical practices. This idea of transformation is applied to personal growth, healing, and the manifestation of desires through magical means.

Ritual and Practice: Alchemical rituals, with their focus on purification, transformation, and the attainment of higher states of being, have influenced the structure and content of magical rituals. The use of specific substances, tools, and processes in alchemy has parallels in magical workings, emphasizing the transformation of both the practitioner and the environment.

Alchemy in the Renaissance: During the Renaissance, alchemy experienced a revival as scholars and practitioners sought to integrate ancient wisdom with emerging scientific knowledge. Figures like Paracelsus and John Dee contributed to the development of alchemical thought, blending it with medicine, astrology, and early chemistry.

Psychological Alchemy: In the 20th century, Carl Jung, a prominent psychologist, explored alchemy as a metaphor for psychological processes. Jung’s interpretation of alchemical symbolism as representing the individuation process—the integration of the conscious and unconscious mind—brought new insights into the relevance of alchemy for personal development and psychotherapy.

Contemporary Practice: Today, alchemy continues to inspire both scientific inquiry and spiritual exploration. Modern alchemists, both literal and symbolic, seek to uncover the hidden principles of transformation in nature and the self. The enduring appeal of alchemy lies in its holistic approach, integrating material, psychological, and spiritual dimensions of existence.

Early Science and Natural Philosophy

Early scientific observations and natural philosophy also contributed to the development of magical correspondences. Ancient and medieval scholars often categorized the natural world into elements (earth, air, fire, and water) and humors (blood, phlegm, yellow bile, and black bile), each with specific qualities and effects. These classifications were used to explain natural phenomena and human health, and they found their way into magical practices. For instance, herbs and stones were categorized based on their perceived elemental qualities, and their uses in magic were aligned with these characteristics.

Cultural Symbolism and Mythology

Cultural symbolism and mythology provided another rich source of correspondences. Different cultures imbued animals, plants, colors, and objects with symbolic meanings based on their myths, legends, and folklore. For instance, the oak tree was sacred to many ancient European cultures and associated with strength and protection, while the owl, often seen as a symbol of wisdom in Greek mythology, became associated with knowledge and divination in magical practices. These symbolic associations were passed down through generations and integrated into the magical correspondences of witchcraft.

Religious Beliefs and Practices

Religious beliefs and practices also shaped magical correspondences. Many magical traditions borrowed from the rituals and symbols of dominant religious practices in their regions. In Western Europe, for instance, Christian symbols and saints were often syncretized with older pagan deities and symbols. The use of incense, candles, and specific prayers or chants in magic often mirrors religious rituals, emphasizing the importance of intentionality and spiritual alignment in magical workings.

Intentionality and Personal Experience

The role of intention and personal experience cannot be overlooked in the development of magical correspondences. Practitioners of witchcraft often develop their own associations based on personal experiences, intuition, and the results of their magical workings. This process of individual experimentation and reflection allows for a dynamic and evolving system of correspondences that can vary between different traditions and practitioners. The intention behind the use of a correspondence is believed to be a critical factor in its effectiveness, highlighting the importance of the practitioner’s focus and purpose.

Synthesis and Evolution

Over time, these diverse influences have synthesized into the rich tapestry of magical correspondences used in witchcraft today. Texts such as the “Key of Solomon,” “The Picatrix,” and various grimoires have codified many of these correspondences, while modern practitioners continue to adapt and expand them based on contemporary understanding and practice. The integration of psychological insights, ecological awareness, and cross-cultural exchanges in the modern era further enriches the system of correspondences, making it a living and evolving aspect of witchcraft.

No single person or group decided these correspondences; rather, they evolved organically through the accumulated wisdom and practices of different cultures. Here are some key influences and sources:

Ancient Civilizations

Egyptians: Ancient Egyptian priests and magicians developed extensive knowledge of correspondences. They believed that everything in nature was interconnected and that specific plants, stones, and symbols held particular powers. Their practices were recorded in texts like the Ebers Papyrus and various temple inscriptions.

Greeks and Romans: The Greeks and Romans contributed significantly to the development of correspondences, particularly through the work of philosophers and physicians like Hippocrates, Theophrastus, and Pliny the Elder. Their writings on herbalism, astrology, and natural philosophy helped establish connections between natural elements and their supposed properties.

Celts: The Druids of the Celtic world had a deep understanding of nature and used various plants, trees, and natural phenomena in their spiritual and magical practices. Their knowledge was passed down orally and later recorded by Christian monks.

Medieval and Renaissance Europe

Medieval Herbalists and Alchemists: During the Middle Ages, herbalists and alchemists in Europe studied ancient texts and conducted their own experiments. They documented the properties of plants, minerals, and metals in texts like the “Materia Medica” and various grimoires. Alchemical traditions, which sought to transform base materials into higher forms, also contributed to the understanding of correspondences.

Astrology: Medieval and Renaissance astrologers played a significant role in establishing correspondences, particularly through the association of planets with specific days of the week, metals, and plants. The writings of figures like Ptolemy and later Renaissance magicians like Cornelius Agrippa and Paracelsus were influential in this regard.

Eastern Traditions

Chinese Medicine and Taoism: Traditional Chinese medicine and Taoist practices developed a system of correspondences based on the Five Elements (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). These elements were connected to various aspects of life, including organs, emotions, seasons, and directions. The “Huangdi Neijing,” an ancient Chinese medical text, is a key source of this knowledge.

Indian Ayurveda and Hinduism: Ayurvedic medicine and Hindu spiritual practices established correspondences between herbs, gems, times of day, and deities. Texts like the “Atharva Veda” and various Ayurvedic treatises documented these associations.

Modern Influences

Grimoires and Occult Literature: From the Renaissance onward, numerous grimoires (books of magic) compiled and expanded upon earlier correspondences. Notable examples include the “Key of Solomon,” “The Lesser Key of Solomon,” and “The Picatrix.” These texts were influential in shaping modern Western magical practices.

The Golden Dawn and Modern Witchcraft: In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn and similar occult organizations synthesized various magical traditions, creating detailed systems of correspondences. Influential figures like Aleister Crowley and Dion Fortune contributed to this synthesis. In the mid-20th century, Gerald Gardner and others who founded modern Wicca drew upon these traditions, further popularizing and systematizing magical correspondences.

Conclusion

Magical correspondences are the result of centuries of observation, experimentation, and synthesis by various cultures and traditions. They were not decided by any single individual or group but evolved over time through the collective wisdom of countless practitioners. Today, they continue to be an essential part of many magical and spiritual practices, providing a framework for understanding and working with the interconnectedness of the natural and spiritual worlds.

[odessa-2]

HUBLANDER MELBOURNE ☀️

OK ladies, so I ended up going. Long story short, I was given a spare ticket and decided to seize the moment. It was stinking hot, and a terribly organised event (it was literally in a shed). Despite this, I am glad I did go. My long held observations/beliefs of Sam's character, who he really is as a man, and the fantasy man, single Sam push, were proven correct. I did get a photo with Sam, and I must confess he really is incredibly good-looking. Even better in the flesh. A doll. He's hyper vigilant, astutely aware of his surrounds (eyes darting everywhere) , very polite and gentlemanly and professional.

He looked tanned and fresh and endured hoards of horny grannies fawning over him for hours on end and was attentive to everyone. The organisers of the event stuck Sam, Duncan, Charles and John in a small tin shed that had no air con, that must've been about 50 degrees celsius inside ,where they stood and posed with frenzied women for over 3 hours. They looked visibly overheated (shame on the organisers). Sam didn't faulter. Polite to a tee.

Would you believe that Sam had to use the same toilets as the plebs?! Yep, you heard correctly. Shocking work by the organisers. I actually had to desperately pee at one point but waited until I saw Sam come out of the toilets. In-between panels, the actors were staying upstairs in the loft level, and I saw the uber eats delivery man run upstairs to bring them food. The organisers didn't even feed their guests!

Sam is Jamie to these women and he knows it. Starz knows it. I saw the crazed obsession with my own eyes. I saw how his people; his team have shaped him and moulded him(for his public persona) to appeal to these women and this fantasy notion. They want their Jamie. They want single Sam, and that's what they (starz) give them. There is no room for anything else but Single Sam. And Sam professionally obliges. What he puts out to the public at the conventions is scripted and measured. He is very guarded. I could see it unfold in front of me with great clarity. There were women there who didn't want him with Caitriona (they weren't interested in the Caitriona titbits Sam gave), 50 and 60 year old women who actually think they stand a chance. Tragic. Sam is gorgeous and charming and Starz has used that to sell. And quite frankly, after witnessing this display, I can see why he has a fascade going on. I can see why he would want the public completely removed from his personal life and family. I get it.

Another observation of mine, I know this goes without saying, but he is definitely not gay for those who are insistent. He gives off zero gay vibes. He is not effeminate in the slightest, and I found him to be quite more masculine than I'd imagined. He reads people well and can't keep still. What else can I tell you? He has nice skin, piercing blue eyes (like really crystal blue) and exceptionally tall. He does his job very well and has high emotional intelligence. Starz uses his good looks and they pimp him out to the fan base.

Now don't get me wrong, i met lots of lovely women there today who were sweet and kind and exited. But hearing women's conversations at the event; he really is their fantasy. They were squealing and many saying how they wished they could grab his bum or 💋 him. There's no room for Caitriona. Just fantasy Sam.

Odessa says hi Sam 👋...you were a real trooper.

I'll share some more titbits from the panel tomorrow when my splitting headache hopefully dissipates.

[cosmic-ghost-hermit]

Pick a Card: Who's been thinking about you? Why are you on their mind?

Take what resonates and leave the rest behind, baby. But always be open to new experiences. Decks used are the necronomicon tarot, alchemy oracle, wizard tarot and the crystallary oracle.

🌊Tip your Reader🐋

PILE ONE

Astrology: Taurus, Libra, Leo

Song: Taking What's Not Yours by TV Girl

Vibes: Blue, green, yellow, orange, overactive third eye, prophetic dreams, gold jewelry, masks, vulnerability, candles, 555, 7777, swings, volcano, picture books, Hephaestus, Apollo, Aphrodite

Cards: The Empress, Knowledge, 5 of Pentacles, 10 of Books, Autumn, Mystical Sister, Labradorite, Larimar

Hey, pile 1. I see 2 different people who have been thinking about you. I see one of them used to be your other half. Someone you felt close enough to they felt like family. I think y'all had a falling out of some kind. The second one is someone you only knew briefly. You met them right before they started to know themselves. You weren't destine to really know them and they weren't destine to know you. You may have worked with them or went to school with them. It looks like they have been talking about you to each other. It isn't gossip talk by the way. It seems very positive. They both feel like Leo's by the way. I could also see them as Aquarius's.

The former friend is telling this former acquaintance about you. The friend has needed to talk to someone about what happened between you two. They want to make up with you but are a bit too stubborn and prideful to admit they were wrong about whatever you two were fighting about. They miss you a lot. They think they made a mistake by causing such a fuss about this. They regret the falling out. They saw how gracefully you handled the conflict and they feel pretty guilty about acting so childish.

The former acquaintance is learning so much about you from the former friend. They knew little to nothing about you before they started talking to this person. Before, their view of you was very vague but they loved how you dressed and wanted to emulate their style. They really wanted to know you but were too shy to really ask to hang out or to ask where you got your clothes from. The more they learn about you the more they wished they had taken a chance because even though this ex-friend is the one telling them about you they aren't saying anything bad. They hear the stories of you and I think they feel envious of how close this former friend got to you.

You probably know these two are hanging out now. You don't really care because you have moved on from that part of your life. You would totally be open to forgiving your ex-friend and getting to know your former acquaintance but they won't take the chance. You shouldn't reach out either. They have to be brave enough to seek you out on their own. You are very forgiving and kind. I think the only reason they wont come forward is because of their own insecurities. They don't feel they are worthy of your light. They know you are a strong independent individual and they might not know how to handle how good you are at setting boundaries.

__________

PILE TWO

Astrology: Capricorn, Cancer, Pisces

Song: Welcome to the Family by Watsky

Vibes: White, blue, orange, silver, apples, trees, storms, ex-christian, reflection, boomer, garden, moon cycles, sea gulls, POS, irregular periods, feminine, 222, 4, birds, Demeter, Hera, Persephone, Artemis

Cards: 5 of Cults, Shame and Decay, Growth, Ace of Wands, Tin, Dissolution, Almandine Garnet

Hello, pile 2. There is one person thinking of you. It is a family member. I feel a feminine energy but it could be someone of any gender. I feel that this person believes you inherited your power and your abilities from them. I don't think this is true, this is just a belief of theirs. They have a lot of believes about you that aren't true to be honest. When they look at you all they can see is a mirror and they see nothing beyond that pre-existing belief. They could be a Taurus or a Libra but I also see Leo energy here too.

This person does not like how you live your life. This person has a predetermined idea of how you should be living. They can't seem to get the idea that you aren't their copy. They think because you aren't following the life they think you should that you are somehow sinning or demonic. They can't seem to understand you are an individual. In their eyes you are an extension of themselves. This way of thinking is really cancerous. They make wild and outrageous claims about your life that are made with no proof or evidence. They are honestly just poisoning their own mind by doing all of this. I hear them praying for you but they don't really know what they are praying for. What they say they are praying for is your uprising and for you to "come to your senses" but they are just praying for your down fall. They gossip to their friends about you and honestly some of the friends that have stood up for you and said that this person was being ridiculous. This person immediately and immaturely cut off anyone who didn't agree with them.

Do not reach out to this person. If you are still in contact with this person I recommend removing them from your connections. They do not have your best interest at heart and I think contacting them would add more fuel to the fire. They are sick in the mind and refuse to admit that they could be wrong. They do not take criticism well and they do not like anything different than themselves. They surround themself with yes-men who will do anything they say. Please, stay safe and protect yourself from such a mean person. They do not deserve your light.

____________

PILE THREE

Astrology: Scorpio, Sagittarius, Aries

Song: Hey, Runner! by The Arcadian Wild

Vibes: Black, brown, rainbow, teal, tendrils, doorways, stairways, 6666, 1234, snakes, crows, ravens, dogs, squirrels, spiders, animals, burrows, wild, water, skeletons, halloween, keys, cats, Pan, Artemis

Cards: 10 of Curses, Rotation, Darkening, Smokey Quartz, Queen of Pentacles, 2 of Pentacles, 6 of Books

Hi, pile 3! I see one person thinking of you. This person was not good to you. They abused you. It could be a former romantic partner or a family member. I also see you might have worked together. Either way they are not a good person. This person made you feel very helpless. I'm sorry they treated you so bad. You deserved better. They did something awful to animal you really loved. They somehow removed this beloved pet from your life. They didn't like that you gave more attention to this creature than them. They were jealous of this animal. They wanted to control you and your emotions. They took joy in your mourning. For some of the people reading, I think this person could have hid that it was their fault that this animal left your life. They could have acted totally innocent when you cried about your loss but for others I think it was very obvious that it was their fault.

The reason they have been thinking about you is because they have been feeling bad about themself. They used you to regulate their self hatred and emotions overall. They miss the power they had over you. They miss being a predator. It looks like you found an out from a life around them a while ago. You escaped their grasp like they always said you couldn't do. You made your own life and you made it beautifully. I don't think you have very active social media or at least not social media they have access too. They have tried to find you online but they can't seem to locate you. When they do find you they text you immediately and you block them like always. They don't like how you see yourself as equal to them now. They are such a piece of shit for real. They do not like that you live is flourishing without them. They are so pathetic lmao.

I'm proud of you for getting away from them, my dear. You have taken such good care of yourself since you left. You are a wonderful and lovely person who did not deserve to get fucked over by someone who was supposed to care for you. This person is tied up in knots about not having control anymore. They will never have control again. They used to feel powerful when they bullied you but now your power over your own life makes them feel weak.

__________

PILE FOUR

Astrology: Aquarius, Gemini, Virgo

Song: Cherry Hearts by The Shin and RAC

Vibes: Iridescent blue, dark blue, turquoise, gold, cicadas, moons, spilled water, tears, 888, mountains, wings, snakes, mourning star, water, swimming, ocean, copper, eldritch horror, Ra, Horus, Aphrodite Urania, Mother Mary

Cards: Queen of Swords, Moonstone, Chrysocolla, Uranus, Virgin's Milk, Death, 8 of Cups, 8 of Pentacles

Hi, pile 4. So there are two separate people thinking about you. They are unrelated to each other and they do not know each other but they have the same reason for thinking about you. The first person was a friend that was crushing on you hard. I think maybe you had a one night stand with this person and it changed their life. I think they are probably an Aries. The other was a very close friend that moved away. Or maybe you moved away from them. I can see you guys being friends in college. I think this person is a Cancer or an Aquarius. They both were deeply and irrevocably in love with you.

The Aries person followed you around like a puppy. They are a very masculine person but you made them feel a lot different than they usually do. I think you might have been their first real crush or their first fuck. They put a lot of effort into getting to know you even though you made it very clear you did not want a relationship. They still attempted to get into a relationship with you despite your boundary setting. They were a fool. You taught them about their passions which makes me think you have a "Manic Pixie Dream Girl" kinda vibe to you. They really were head over heels for you. I don't think you are in their life anymore. I think this person will think about you for the rest of their life.

The Cancer/Aquarius person was a really close friend of yours. I think either you helped them through a break up or they helped you through a break up. Either way during the mourning process they fell for you so hard but they kept it secret. They didn't know if their feelings were real or if they were just because of the situation. This person might still be in your life but I don't see them ever telling you about their feelings. I think they see you as this really cool and independent person. They don't think someone like you could ever love them. They try to keep their feelings down. They tell themselves their feelings are not real but their heart always skips a beat when they see you. They still catch themselves imagining a future with you. They have some naughty dreams about you too. They can not get you out of their head.

Both of these people love you a lot, my friend. I don't know if it's just your personality but you are just a really lovable person. You might be accidentally flirtatious. I hope this gave you some insight on who was thinking of you, my dear.

[lazyleafeon]

i put a lot more time into my piece for the serenity zine than I usually do, so ive been wanting to make a write up with more details about what i was intending + stuff thats easy to miss (full piece without the character names can be seen here)

[ID: a drawing centered on a young kim dokja writing in a notebook, surrounded by paper cut outs of ways of survival characters. there are names next to the cut outs to clarify which characters are which. End ID]

1: text on the characters

the text on all of the characters are all quotes from orv. for characters from specific rounds, the text is specifically linked to those rounds (ex: 1863 uriel has text from when kdj is thinking about how gabriel isn't aware of her own betrayal of eden). Where i could, i tried to find text that paralled kdj somehow (sp with changing the 999th worldline, and 41 sys with her resentment towards yjh paralleling kdj's towards lsk for leaving him behind.).

for characters that aren't from specific worldlines (or where i couldn't find text i wanted to use that related to their worldlines) , the text either centers something i feel is central to orv (ex jhy talking about the final wall is used in both of her cut outs), kdjs perception of the character or thoughts of them from wos (ex lsh and his line about not really knowing her), or something about the character that parallels kdj (bihyungs cut outs are both about his ending of sacrificing himself, yma is about yjh leaving in the epilogue and her belief he won't come back (which works doubly as yjh leaving as kdj often did, and yma being left behind by her guardian)).

there is also sunfish yjh. who only says "the sunfish" because of the constraints of being a tiny piece of paper. The full quote is "Maybe I had been lucky until now. I might be the 'sunfish' rather than yoo joonghyuk" from chapter 38.

i don't think everything like, perfectly follows these categories, but that was the intent for the most part. One intentional exception is that the yjh near the bottom of the drawing has the text: "I want to read this story for a little bit longer"

if you want to read all the text, I have it up on a doc here. (you can also ask me about thoughts behind specific quotes if you want to know why i chose them)

2: amount of characters + visual details

there are 2 versions of each character for the most part, with 4 exceptions: kdj (3), yjh (6, counting the sunfish but not the kkoma), and na bori and knw only having 1.

the reason there's only one na bori is because her fate is, for the most part, set before her story can be changed by yjh. there is only 1 of her in all of the characters memories, outside of the 1865 worldline (though given we see knw after kdj kills him, its not out of the question there isn't a worldline where she reappears.)

for kim namwoon, its part because of kdj's hatred for him as someone he sees himself in, and part because kdj in orv like. replaces knw pretty directly by killing him and trying to become yjh's companion. so in kdjs notes and doodles based on wos, knw is here only as an outergod king, where kdj is unaware of him.

the outer god kings all have at least one element that sets them apart from the other cut outs: sp has his crumpled paper cloak, knw's cut out is in the shape of dragons near the edges, uriel is on fire, lhs is partially tin foil, and ljh has a water stain and some of her paper is peeling off into water. this represents them being unbound from the worldlines, but since they're still bound to the story they're still made of paper.

anna croft (near uriel) is intentionally a little more 3D than the other characters, since she has memories from past worldlines. she's supposed to seem like shes going against the tide.

1863 uriel is also a bit of an exception, though not intentionally, since her halo looks better as a separate piece of paper, and i wanted her to have flames too... it fits because shes a constellation and seeing the story from a somewhat outside perspective but is still a part of it, but it wasn't intentional.

near the edges of the piece towards the right, some characters outlines start to become faded, and the paper cut out outlines become more irregular. the outer god kings are exempt because they've managed to keep their sense of self to an extent outside of the worldline.

some of kdjs books are from his library in orv.

the text for all characters is slightly cut off (i tried to make it so most of the quotes are missing some texts so you can't actually read them in full). this is both because they're cut out of a larger page, and because kdj can't actually learn everything about the characters once he meets them by reading them because you can't read people like that. so some of the text is out of view because the characters are viewed as characters to kdj and not "real" yet, so kdj doesn't see their full stories.

some concept art + one of the earliest digital sketches i have. all of my works in progress have a billion notes left on them so i know not to forget something when i get back to them:

[drawing of yjh made of paper, and an earlier sketch of the overall piece]

i sort of wish i kept the paper style of this yjh, but it wasn't meant to be....

3. final thoughts........

this really is the most... orv piece i've ever done (?), in a lot of ways. there is nothing that makes you feel more like kdj like searching up orv quotes from memory and then scrolling through the epub on your phone to find what you want. i even ended up explaining it to my mom and having to show her what a sunfish was.

there are things i would change about it if i did it now (i would probably erase the outline from adult kdjs cut out and emphasize his shadow falling on it instead), and things i didn't get to do that would've made it more like what i envisioned (ideally i would've reread all of orv to find quotes. and i didn't do that).

It's personal to me in ways that are kind of silly. I used to doodle a lot of paper cut out creatures in high school, which helped a lot with getting the sort of paper movement down here. and of course the handwriting is just my own, so i had to actually rewrite the quotes i found. it's probably the most ambitious piece i've drawn yet composition wise, and i don't think ive spent so long on a single illustration besides art studies for school. It feels like a love letter to everything orv means to me.

if you've read this far, thank you :)! i don't normally go into this much depth about my thought process, but there's a lot here i don't expect people to pick up that i wanted to get into

[hallowpen]

Episode Eleven has a lot to unpack... including some cultural nuances that even I wasn't too knowledgeable about (so I had to ask my mom for clarification)

We're heading to Chao Fah Palace (คุ้มเจ้าฟ้า) in the province of Phrae (แพร่) for this episode... which is derivative of the old Lanna Kingdom and its culture. (We spoke a little bit about Lanna traditions when referencing the hairpins in episode five). Lanna territories are now part of modern-day Siam. In Lanna tradition, women were known as ช้างเท้าหลัง (pronounced 'chang tao lahng') which would literally translate into "the hind legs of the elephant". What it meant was that the direction of a woman's life and family were to be guided by the authority of a man, ช้างเท้าหน้า (pronounced 'chang tao nahr') "the front legs of the elephant". The woman must learn to accept her place. Lanna Buddhist tradition would preach that being born as a woman in this life meant you had not earned enough merit to be born a man, and to pray for better karma in the next lifetime. Ironically, before the rise of Buddhism, Lanna was one of the few territories to practice matrilineal succession... where lineage was passed on from mother to daughter.

Both of these beliefs were somewhat knit together for TLP's narrative in regards to Uangfah... which we'll talk about later.

ผ้าซิ่นตีนจก (pronounced 'pa sin tin jok') is a traditional skirt worn by women in Lanna. The skirts are known to have elaborate borders with strips of precious metals woven together, with spun gold or silver threads, by using a traditional loom. This technique emphasizes the beauty and value of the weaving, as well as the social status of the person wearing the skirt. The garment was generally reserved for high-ranking members of society.

Another practice steeped in Lanna tradition, is the art of making ตุง (pronounced 'toong'). In the northern dialect, this refers to a type of flag used in Lanna art and Buddhist ceremonies. The flags, adorned with various patterns and designs, are used to mark the boundaries of sacred sites as a symbol of the pathway toward enlightenment.

The series highlighted the Phra That Cho Hae Temple (พระธาตุช่อแฮ), which has rich history as a spiritual center and the most sacred Buddhism site in Phrae. Its highlight is the brass wrapped pagoda that stands 33 meters tall, which enshrines holy relics of Lord Buddha.

The Peacock Feather Dance (รำฟ้อนหางนกยูง - pronounced 'ram faan haang nohk-yuung') is a cultural piece of entertainment that sees dancers move in a circle and change positions in order to imitate the movements and courtship "dance" of a peacock. The dancers wear traditional northern costumes while holding peacock feathers. Known for its striking appearance, the peacock holds deep cultural and religious significance in Thailand. It is often associated with the ideas of beauty, royalty, prosperity, and spiritual awakening.

We are introduced to Uangfah's mother this episode. Princess Dararai holds the title of หม่อมเจ้าหญิง (mom-jao ying or M.C.) for being married to a descendant of the king. Princess Dararai wishing for her daughter to remain close to her after marriage has inklings of matrilineal customs, where the husband would typically come to live with the wife's family... and not the other way around.

The suitor Princess Dararai has chosen for her daughter to marry is Lord Muang-Rahm. Muang-Rahm holds the tilte of หม่อมราชวงศ์ (mom rat-cha-wong or M.R.) as a child of one "commoner" parent, but whose ancestry can be traced back to the king.

Uangfah has accepted the fact the she must submit to her mother's wishes and marry a man she does not care for (he's truly terrible... lesbi-honest). It's a bittersweet moment where we realize the realities of a woman who cannot openly pursue the love of another woman, given the views of society.

The proceeding conversation Uangfah has with Muang-Rahm is subtlety indicative of Lanna women who were in charge in their own relationships. Uangfah quietly inserts her authority over their future courtship by informing Muang-Rahm of her intentions to not wed straight away AND by addressing him by his nickname in front of Pia. Given his behavior, Muang-Rahm knows he cannot say anything untoward in order to save face... such a fun scene.

SHE KNOWS!!! The facial expressions 😂😂😂... you have to laugh

Anil and Pin have become more reckless the more comfortable they have become in their relationship... and that spells trouble ahead.

[smytherines]

Tin Can Bros tinlightenment streams are such a wild place because where else are you going to badger Gabe Greenspan into digging a hole and then pressure Joey Richter to do a sandwich trick in said hole? Where else are you going to hear James Tolbert explain what poppers are?

Where else are you going to debate how much money it would take to get Brian Rosenthal to do full frontal nudity? Where else could you watch Joey Richter cringe in on himself like an imploding star and then give such an unhinged definition of the term "uhauling" that it almost defies belief?

Literally every time it's a wild ride. Yesterday we got to hear Ali Gordon and Angela Parrish sing a very Dolly Parton-esque song called My Ass in Bio. It changed my life. Truly a zeitgeist moment.

Bryce Charles and Mariah Rose Faith Casillas come so prepared for debate streams that it genuinely feels like a fistfight (but like, the snappy one from West Side Story)

On one of the first streams we learned that Curt Mega (actor) believes that Curt Mega (agent) has 3 or 4 illegitimate children he doesn't know about. Like mmhhmm, yes, when I watch Spies my primary thought is definitely "oh yeah, this character has sex with women."

Where else are you going to hear Mary Kate Wiles speak THE iconic line from The Godfather- "you come to MY wedding?" Or say gaythem when the Sacred Text appears? Or ask Corey Lubowich if a straight man told him to do this?

PLUS we get to see Diane Lopez-Richter in iconic lil outfits. That's worth 200k on its own frankly

Tin Can Bros are doing livestreams all week, and a massive all-day stream on March 2nd, the last day of the campaign. If you haven't hopped onto a stream yet you should join the fun in this final week!

If you just can't wait until 2pm PST, you can get a little taste of tinlightenment right here baby:

Tinlightenment

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Time.

You get shot in Colombia. Frankie, Benny, Santiago and Will all have their own ways of helping you heal.

Pairing - Santiago Garcia, Frankie Morales, Benny Miller, Will Miller x female reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Cursing, mentions of blood, gunshots

Word Count - 4329

Author's Note - hi lovely people. i loved writing this one so much oh my :( those four boys in one movie together is a dream. and i don't know if you noticed, but i have a real soft spot for will. and yes, i did photoshop ben afflecks character out of that picture. more than happy to write for any of the triple frontier boys individually - just send me an ask! as always, lots of love x

my other triple frontier fics - Tethered, Tranquility and Home Is Where The Heart Is.

Masterlist. Requests.

It’s been 6 days since you were shot.

6 days of blood, pain, sterility, stitches, hazy memories that float into your consciousness like smoke in the air.

You somehow remember it both clear as day and blurry as night.

The metallic taste of copper in your mouth, clear as day.

The searing, burning pain in your side, clear as day.

The panicked looks on the boys faces, the yelling, the frantic scrambling – clear as day.

The rest of it? Blurry as night.

You can’t remember getting home. One minute you were bleeding out on the ground in Colombia, and the next minute you’re back on US soil, lying in a bed in Houston Methodist Hospital.

You can’t remember your discharge. You fell asleep on those sterile, crinkly white sheets, and woke up in a soft bed, wrapped in a navy blue comforter that smells like Will.

All you’ve known for the last 6 days is sleep. That molten sleep that moves like molasses, warm and slow and sticky. The sun rises and sets, and you’re none the wiser. Floating aimlessly through unconsciousness, just you and your dreams.

Unbeknownst to you, you haven’t been alone for a minute since you got home. The boys have taken turns sitting by your bedside, heart rates rising whenever you stir. All of them silently processing what all of this means, for you and for them.

It was damn close. Too much blood. Pints after pints after pints of it. Pouring over Will’s hands, soaking into Benny’s jeans, slipping beneath Santiago’s boots, choking the air around Frankie where his forehead was pressed to yours, begging you to stay awake. All of them wondering the same thing – where has all of this come from? Surely one person can’t have so much blood in them. It can’t all be from her.

The Doctor said that you got lucky. Any more blood loss and you’d have lost your life too. Your surgeon said that you owed your life to whoever stopped the bleeding.

William ‘Ironhead’ Miller. He’d shoved his hand straight into the wound, applying as much pressure as he could without breaking any ribs. It was the worst thing he’d ever seen, but he was in fight or flight mode. He knew it had to be fight. He hoped you were making the same choice as you were lying there, breath rattling in your chest like pennies in a tin can.

Some would call it a miracle. Divine intervention, perhaps. You shouldn’t have survived. Scientifically, statistically, you should have died right there on that floor, in a mission gone wrong. Tragic accident. Caught in the crossfire. Collateral damage.

But you didn’t. Now, you’re half conscious in Will’s guest bedroom, enveloped by his scent. Warm, cozy, safe, and alive. You’re struggling to stay awake for more than ten, fifteen minutes at a time. It’s all catching up to you. You had to fight so hard to take each breath, that now you’re exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that sleep can’t fix. No, it’s settled into your gut, wrapped it’s limbs around your bones. It keeps you weighed down and heavy, a reminder of the trauma. You’re alive, but you’re tired. So tired.

The boys are worried. Worried beyond belief. When the Doctor told them she was happy to discharge you, reality hit the four of them like a high-speed freight train. How do they navigate this? You can’t go home. You can’t be by yourself. They’re all back on Texan soil, which means work, and family, and bills to pay, and routines to carry out. How do they factor in the woman they call their best friend, who’s currently in the deepest sleep of her life with a healing bullet hole in her side?

“I’ll take her,” Will had said. “She can stay with me, in my guest room. You guys can come over whenever you want. I have the most space, anyway.”

That was true. Santiago and Benny live in apartments, bachelor pads really, and Frankie’s second bedroom is his daughter’s room. She was only with him on weekends, but she needed a place to sleep, so that was him out of the question. Having you stay with Will made the most sense. They all agreed to come and sit with you in shifts, so Will could go to the grocery store, or for a run, or to take a shower. The Doctor never actually said that you needed twenty four hour surveillance, but the boys thought it would be best. Just in case.

So that’s exactly what they did. You’re on bed rest, and they’re all happy to play nurse for a few hours during the day, and to leave you with Will during the night. He’s been sneaking in to sleep in the armchair next to your bed. His room, a mere ten feet away, feels too far. He wants to be able to hear if you need his help. Just in case.

None of the boys quite know how to treat you. They don’t want to act any differently around you, but it’s hard not to. They haven’t seen you like that before. You, a force to be reckoned with. The backbone of the group. You, with your sharp wit, quick humor, blinding smile. You, who always seems to be a step ahead of them. You, a pillar of strength, proving yourself just as capable in this world designed for men. Lying on the ground, painted crimson, you looked fragile. Small. Frail. You looked so… innocent. So afraid. That was the scariest part for all of them – seeing the fear in your eyes. They’ve never seen that before. They never want to again.

So, they all take their different approaches. They cope the best way that each of them knows how.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

When Frankie visits, he always brings a book.

Cracking open the door, he pops his head around the frame, smiling as he sees both you and Will asleep – him in the chair, you cozy in bed. He gently squeezes the blond man’s shoulder, whispering as he wakes.

“I got her for a while. You go do what you need to do.”

Will shoots him a grateful smile and stretches his arms above his head, before padding out of the room, softly shutting the door behind him.

Frankie opens the curtains, letting the soft morning light fill the room. It illuminates your face, catches on the strands of your hair, making it glow. You look like an angel, in this orange haze. But Frankie already knew that.

Your eyes flutter open, and land straight on the broad man standing next to your bed, trusty cap sat atop his head. You smile, and his heart stops for a second. God, he’s missed that sight. All of the tension from the last week leaves his shoulders, and he sinks into the armchair next to you.

“Hi, Francisco,” you whisper, voice slightly hoarse from minimal use.

“Hi, cariño,” he whispers back. “You doing okay?”

You nod, golden smile still etched on your face. The wound in your side is a dull ache, and the psychological pain keeps washing over you in spontaneous waves. But you’re okay.

“You here to babysit me?” you tease.

He smirks, which is all the answer you needed.

“You don’t need to. I’m okay, I swear,” you insist.

He looks at you and quirks an eyebrow, the corners of his lips still turning up slightly.

“Well, you’re my baby, and I’m sitting,” he winks. “Now that we’ve established that, what do you wanna do for the next few hours?”

His abysmal attempt at a joke makes you chuckle, which in turn makes you wince, pain shooting through your abdomen. He jumps out of his chair towards you, placing a hand on your cheek gently.

“Shit, querida. I’m sorry. Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

Breathing deep and slow, you tilt your head to meet his eyes.

“Yes. For you to stop fussing. Sit down, Francisco. Your nervous energy is making me stressed.”

He exhales carefully, and presses a kiss onto the top of your head.

“Yes ma’am.”

He returns to his original place, and grabs a book from the nightstand.

“Have you read this already?” he asks, showing you the cover.

You shake your head, and he flips to the first page.

“It sounds good, actually. You comfy, cielito?”

You nod gently, holding his gaze. He flashes you one of his signature smiles – the rare, genuine, time stopping ones – and begins to read softly, in that dulcet, honeyed voice of his.

He reads to you for hours. You were only awake for 45 minutes, but he continued reading aloud anyway. Morning becomes afternoon, yellow sunlight beating through the open window. A gentle breeze blows the curtains and ruffles Frankie’s hair that is ever so slightly too long for his liking. He’d be perfectly content to read to you like this forever. He’s gotten so into the plot of the book that he doesn’t notice Will stood in the doorframe, watching with those careful eyes of his. They gleam blue in the sunlight, his golden hair glinting like citrine. He eventually catches Frankie’s eyes, and the older man makes his way over to the door, both boys talking in hushed whispers so as not to wake you.

“Has she been okay?” Will asks, eyes scanning your sleeping form.

“Perfectly fine. She was awake for about 45 minutes,” Frankie replies, pride evident in his tone.

“That’s the longest she’s been conscious since. Progress, huh?” Will smiles. Frankie can’t help but smile too. A week ago, they were huddled around your lifeless body, hands deep and bloody in your wound. Now, they’re watching you slumber peacefully, life returned to you like a gift from the universe.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

When Benny visits, he brings comfort with him.

He uses his key to let himself into Will’s house quietly, aware that you’re most likely asleep. It’s been a week and a half since everything happened, and while you’re awake more and more each day, you’re also still on bed rest.

Creeping up the stairs and peeking his head around the door that’s ajar, he finds Will sat at the end of your bed. You’re awake, but barely. The light shines from the hallway into the bedroom, and illuminates your tear stained cheeks.

Will wipes your cheekbone with his thumb gently, and moves to meet his brother. The older Miller pulls Benny into the hallway, shutting your door momentarily.

“She’s having a real bad day. The worst since she’s been home. The memories are flooding back man, they’re drowning her.”

All the colour is gone from Will’s face. He looks helpless. His brother hates it.

“I don’t know how to help her,” Will continues. “The tears won’t stop. It’s like every time she calms down, another nightmare takes her by surprise. I don’t know what to do, Ben. I don’t know what to do.”

Will’s voice is shaking, tears threatening to spill from those cerulean eyes. He has a hand fisted into the front of Benny’s shirt, as if he’s grounding himself. There’s something unsettling about seeing the calmest person in the room start panicking. Benny doesn’t like it.

“Hey, it’s okay. She’s gonna have bad days, that’s a given. Go get some fresh air, go for a drive or something. I’ve got her. I ain’t gonna leave her.”

Benny looks pointedly at his big brother, and inhales deeply. They exhale together, and Will wipes his face with the back of his hand.

“Are you sure?”

Benny nods. Will trusts him.

“Okay. Call me if you need anything and I will come straight back. I mean it, Ben. Anything.”

Benny pulls his brother into his chest, holding him for a moment. Will isn’t used to being the glue holding everything together, he thinks. It’s usually you.

Will pulls away and starts his journey down the stairs, momentarily pausing to watch Benny straighten his shoulders and clear his throat before opening your door carefully.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he smiles.

You don’t feel gorgeous. No, you feel like you’ve shattered into a million pieces in William Miller’s guest bedroom. The weight of your trauma has come crashing down on top of you suddenly. It’s suffocating and it’s choking you and no matter how many times you inhale, your lungs won’t fill with air. Tears keep streaking down your cheeks despite your best efforts to stifle them. You wonder if you’ll feel like this forever – forced to carry around the weight of surviving something that you weren’t supposed to.

Benny’s never been any good with words. So he tells you what he needs to with his actions instead.

He kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket, throwing it on the chair. Then, he unbuttons his jeans and slides them off his legs, tossing them sideways with haphazard aim. The last thing to go is his t shirt, which he shucks over his head with ease, landing somewhere with the rest of his clothes. He moves across the room towards you and pulls back the comforter. He strokes your cheek with his knuckles gently, looking at you carefully to gauge your reaction. When he’s satisfied, he climbs into bed behind you, pulling you mindfully to sit in between his legs, his chest pressed to your back. He pulls the comforter back up over the two of you, and uses his arms to cage you in to him, enveloping you in his warmth.

Benny’s always run hot. You joke that he’s like a walking space heater, a radiator if you ever need one. Right now, it’s like having your own ball of sunshine, warming you gently from the outside in. You feel the safest you have in two weeks.

“Relax, baby,” he murmurs into your hair. He pulls you in tighter, and nudges your head to rest in the crook of his neck. You inhale deeply – the first real breath you’ve been able to take all day. He smells like sunshine, and salt, and sandalwood, and safety. You relax into him and let all the tension leave your body. You let go of the flashbacks, and the fear, and the chaos, and surrender yourself to Benny.

He stays with you like that for three days. He doesn’t separate himself from you more than a few inches for 72 whole hours, keeping his arms wrapped around you from behind, as if holding you together. When he gets up to go to the bathroom, he takes you with him. You stay attached for three days, skin to skin, allowing his warmth to seep into your bones, to settle your nerves. You’re convinced that no medicine could heal you the way Benny is. Science doesn’t have a match for this. It never will.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

When Santiago visits, he brings his guitar.

The first time he came to see you, right at the beginning, he sat with you for 20 minutes before he careened out of the room, gasping for air. The silence was strangling him, sending him into some sort of panic attack. Then, the guilt settled, and he felt like he’d betrayed you so badly that he couldn’t bring himself to go back in. He sat on the floor of the hallway with his back pressed against the door for 6 hours before Will returned home, concern coursing through his veins.

When Santiago explained what had happened, Will looked at him knowingly.

“You don’t have to be deathly silent, you know. You can watch some TV, turn the radio on. Frankie reads to her. Benny talks her ear off - doesn’t stop fucking rambling. I walked in the other day and he was explaining the current state of the NBA to her, team by team. She’ll sleep no matter what.”

Santiago nods, patting Will on the back lovingly before leaving, weighed down by shame.

The next time he visits, he brings his guitar.

If he’s honest with himself, he’s hoping you’ll be asleep. It’s easier to play for you if you aren’t looking at him like he hung the moon with those big, bright eyes of yours. But, lo and behold, he walks into the room you’ve made your own, and you’re wide awake.

“Hi, handsome,” you smile. “Where you been?”

“Oh, you know,” he smirks, “just caring for all the pretty girls that need my help.”

“And here I thought I was special,” you tease.

That smile of yours wraps itself around his heart, tangling in the core of him. You’ve always had that effect on the boys. One grin from you, and all of their problems melt away, even if just for a moment.

“You staying today, or you gonna run away again?”

You’re joking with him. Why are you trying to make him laugh? You should be upset, telling him that he’s a bad friend, that all of the other boys have sat with you for hours, so why can’t he?

But instead, you continue.

“I’m kidding, Santi. I get it, you know. I don’t think I’d be able to sit in a room with you lying there all half dead and helpless if the roles were reversed.”

You’re looking at him with so much understanding in your eyes that he has to choke down the tears that are trying to escape from him.

“It’s not that. It’s just – it’s my fault, bebita. You wouldn’t have even been in Colombia if it wasn’t for me. I’m the reason you got shot.”

He’s crying now – heavy, ugly sobs crawling their way from his chest, up to his throat. His knees give out, and he sits on the side of the bed, hands fisting in your comforter.

“Santi, baby. Hey. Look at me. Please, Pope.”

Your pleading gets his attention. He looks at you with those red rimmed, watery eyes, and your heart breaks so hard you swear you can hear it shatter.

“It wasn’t your fault, Santi. I followed you out there voluntarily. We all did. You know I’d follow you anywhere. I still would. It could have been any of us that got hurt. I’m glad it was me. I wouldn’t be able to stand seeing any of you in a hospital bed. It’d break me.”

You’re crying now too, at the thought of one of the boys in your situation. The bullets, the blood, the makeshift bandages they shoved into your side, ripping their shirts and tearing apart anything they could find. You couldn’t have survived that, if the roles were reversed. You wouldn’t have wanted to.

You press your forehead to his, hands tangling in the front of his shirt. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest, needing you as close as possible.

You fall asleep like that, face pressed into him, his heartbeat in your ear. Santiago tucks you back into bed gently and takes his place in the armchair, settling down. Pulling his guitar out of the case, he tunes it slowly, meticulously, before beginning to strum the strings carefully. He picks at the strings, playing you tune after tune, only stopping to stretch his arms and crack his knuckles. He plays for you for hours, time slipping by him like sand through his palms. When you wake, you keep your eyes closed, savouring his presence for just a moment longer.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Will doesn’t visit.

He sticks steadily by your side, day in, day out. If Frankie visits for 6 hours, Will sits with you for the other 18. When Benny holds you for 3 days, Will gets anxious, popping his head around the doorframe every few hours, checking in just in case. Since everything happened, Will’s whole universe has revolved around you. Which, he’s realising, is the way it’s always been. His whole world has always been you. He’s just been forced to confront that truth now, and it’s scaring him.

He’s suddenly aware of the fact that he almost lost you. He’s never felt fear like that before. He’s had men press guns to his temple, shoot at him from mere feet away, fight him with their fists. That’s nothing, now. He’d take that any day over watching you lie there, drenched in crimson, dripping with pain. His hands, twisted into your side, wet and slipping, trying to quell the dam that’s broken inside of you. Your eyes, looking into his, terror grasping your whole body like a cold chill. When he falls asleep at night, all he can hear is the way you said his name, like it was the last thing tethering you to the Earth.

He makes a silent vow to himself. A promise - to never let you go again. To protect you forever, no matter what. All of this trauma has just made him love you more. He’s not sure what the future will look like, for him, or for you. But he knows that right now, you need him.

And so he pours all of his love into his actions. He makes you breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and sits with you as you eat slowly. He eats at your speed, too - always doing everything at your pace. He combs your hair every morning gently, brushes your teeth twice a day carefully. He tucks you in when you fall asleep, pulling the comforter around you, keeping you safe and warm. As soon as one of the other boys leaves, he takes their place, sitting in the armchair – making sure you’re never alone. Whenever you’re awake, he listens to you pointedly, nodding and smiling. When you have a bad day, he’s right there next to you, wiping the tears from your cheeks and murmuring reassurances gently.

He watches as slowly but surely, you come back to yourself. You’re awake more often, smiling more confidently, cracking jokes and asking for laughs. The two of you are chatting like you used to, about nothing and everything. And you watch as slowly but surely, he returns to Will. The frown lines in his forehead become less pronounced, the worry in his eyes fades slightly. The smiles he throws your way are bigger, more genuine. The scales balance out again.

You’ve been in bed for two weeks when you decide to ask him for a favor.

“Hey, Will?” you query, looking at the blond man who’s currently folding laundry on the dresser.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he replies instantly, ready to give you anything you could possibly ask for.

“Can we go outside? I think I might go insane in this room real soon,” you smile, bright and bold.

He beams at you, relief washing over him like an ocean wave. You haven’t left your bed for a fortnight. He’s offered a couple of times, but you refused, scared to leave the comfort of the safe haven you’ve created. But you’re ready now.

“Of course we can. You want me to carry you?”

His tone is light, jesting, but you know he’s being serious. Neither of you are actually sure if you can walk all the way outside.

“I can walk if you carry me down the stairs? Not sure I’m quite ready for those yet.”

He grins at you, and your heart stops. That smile of his seeps into your pores, lifts you up, sends energy flowing through your veins. You’re alive, and you’re okay, and Will Miller is looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. You feel invincible.

Admittedly, it does take you 20 minutes to get from your room to the back patio. Will throws a strong arm beneath yours, holding you up as you take the journey step by step. When you reach the stairs, he picks you up bridal style, carrying you carefully. Before he sets you back on your feet, he nudges his nose to yours, still grinning.

The sun soaks into your skin outside, gentle breeze rippling your t shirt that you’re now realising is Benny’s. The leaves rustle in the trees, and you inhale the world, as if seeing it again for the first time. Will sits right next to you on the bench, hand holding yours tightly, fingers interlaced as if he’s worried you’ll blow away.

You glance at Will’s watch and see that it’s only 1pm. You have so much time left. So many possibilities to be fulfilled, so many people to love, so many places to see. But for now, you press yourself into the blond man’s side, settling in. You fit perfectly. Almost as if this is where you belong.

“Can’t believe I almost died without telling you I love you,” you murmur. It’s quiet, but he hears you, loud and clear.

“It’s okay,” he reassures. “You’re here now. We have time. So much time.”

“Forever,” you whisper. “We have forever.”

He turns to look at you in the hues of the bright afternoon. His blond hair is glowing gold, and his blue eyes match the sky, hopeful and full of promise. His hands come up to cradle your face, and he caresses your cheeks with his thumbs, rubbing comforting circles into your skin. He moves in closer, and nudges his nose into yours. He breaks out into a grin, and you can’t help but join him. Leaning in, he presses his lips to yours, soft and reassuring. You melt into him, running one hand into his hair, the other at the nape of his neck. He pulls you impossibly closer, until every part of you is pressed together. The sun is still beaming, and the birds are chirping, and you have time.

“Forever,” he whispers into your mouth when he breaks the kiss.

“Forever,” you murmur back. “We have time.”

You have time.

You have time.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Elizabeth Taylor (Cleopatra, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof)—iconic actress with purple eyes and a double row of eyelashes, the real ebony dementia ravenway of old hollywood. known for her stunning tastes when it comes to jewelry and her incredible, incredible advocacy during the AIDS crisis.

Nutan (Bandini, Anari, Seema)— In an era where plump and petite women were considered the height of beauty, Nutan was thin and gangly. While her beauty is obvious today, she was considered somewhat unusual throughout her acting career, which contains over 70 films. Contrary to the belief that female actresses careers ended after marriage, Nutan won four of her five Filmfare Awards after her marriage and the birth of her son. Nutan was known for her gorgeous, emotive brown eyes and her incredible singing voice.

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Elizabeth Taylor:

I've been trying to steer clear of the absurdly-big names, but damnit, those violet eyes got me. The *talent*, the *presence*, the string of marriages and (temporally out-of-bounds) work in combating AIDS and pioneering in the concept of the celebrity fragrance line.

Not only did she have gorgeous violet eyes and lashes for days and one of the hottest voices ever, she was also a big supporter of the gay community

Child actress turned starlet, Liz dominated films as one of the greatest screen legends of classic hollywood. If your protagonist has violet eyes, they're imitating hers.

A Legend. She was serving milf rage in Whos Afraid Of Virginia Woolf. A Star in every sense of the word.

She was renowned for the beauty of her eyes; they were a dark blue but could look violet in certain lighting, something that photographers would actually touch up to look even more so in pictures. But even more striking was a genetic mutation that gave her a double row of eyelashes. She was also famed for her string of husbands -- 8 marriages to 7 men. Two-time hubby Richard Burton once said she was “a wildly exciting love-mistress… beautiful beyond the dreams of pornography.”

Her EYES. Early and loud support for gay rights and AIDS victims. Married a bunch of hot dudes, Burton twice!

just look at her. she's gorgeous. there's a video somewhere of her applying her eyeliner in the mirror and I think about it all the time

THE Hollywood actress of all time. Not only was she known for her long dark locks and blue-violet eyes, she also had one of the wildest life stories ever….. She’s Carrie Fisher’s stepmother because her father Eddie Fisher cheated on Debbie Reynolds with Liz. She was knighted as a dame of England. She was married to seven different men, one of them twice. She was also very kindhearted and did a lot of charity activism.

Asides from being an iconic actor, she did a lot of philanthropy and co founded the American Foundation for AIDS research. She’s sometimes considered one of the last great stars of old hollywood

Nutan:

[smallpeniscollective]

First Time

Daryl Dixon x Reader (18+)

Summary: (takes place in season 2 on the farm, Daryl and the reader are out on a hunt, and they stumble across an empty cabin, and then they seize an opportunity)

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: walkers, sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex

*~*~*

It was rare for Daryl to be accompanied on a hunt. He usually moved quickly and worked alone, but this time, she had asked him to take her as well. She had flattered her way into the position with, “You’re just so good at hunting,” and “I want you to teach me, so I can help the group.” She knew exactly what to say to get him to agree to take her out, but what she didn’t know was that he wanted to be alone with her.

It’s not like alone time didn’t exist at the farm, but he was a very private man, and couldn’t ask her to sit with him in front of everyone, or just anyone. But when he came back from the woods yesterday after searching tirelessly for Sophia with a rope of dead squirrels across is back, she approached him.

She was no hunter. She had this insistent natural belief that every single little living creature could have had a family or could feel extreme pain and suffering. She decided it was time to get over this and try to return to her human nature as an animal of the food chain. The squirrels were smaller than her, and the group needed to eat.

She was quiet and graceful in the forest, barely making a sound as she tiptoed over twigs and crunchy leaves. But she still felt a hollow guilt in her chest every time she managed to catch a squirrel. She couldn’t kill it, not after she had looked into its panicked little eyes.

“You do it, Daryl,” she said, giving him the tiny creature who was desperately scratching to get out of her hands. “I can’t kill him, I looked into his eyes.”

“Ya mean kill it. These ain’t people like us, they’re the food that we need to eat. They’re our survival,” he said with his agitated southern drawl.

“Hey, at least I caught it. I may be a bad hunter, but you can’t say I can’t catch,” she retorted, as he took the squirming squirrel from her hand. He quickly snapped its neck, causing her to wince and look away. He scoffed at this.

“Do not call me a pussy right now, Daryl, or I swear to god,” she joked, not even finishing her sentence to let his mind wander about what her meek little self would be capable of doing to him.

They snaked through the woods until they stumbled upon a small cabin with a tin green roof. The little building was eerily quiet, although no quiet was comfortable these days. Daryl went in first, holding up his crossbow to take out any immediate threat and slowly opening the front door in an attempt to be quiet and discreet, but the old door creaked loudly. She followed him closely through every room, almost clipping his heels several times. If it was anyone else, he would have made an annoyed remark about them breathing down his neck, but he didn’t feel annoyed at having her so close. He felt better, like he was keeping her safer.

Once the small space was searched, he sighed, placing his bow gently on the dingy, unstable table in the kitchen. She crouched down to check cabinets for any canned or preserved goods, and he searched the pantry and fridge for any dried goods or bottled beverages. “Y’know,” she said mindlessly, as she rifled through extremely expired or already-opened items, “back in the good days, I would’ve used an abandoned cabin like this to do a lotta devious things.”

“What kinda things?” he asked with a reserved tone that indicated he was much more curious about her statement than he was letting on.

“Well, I was a chronic stoner, abandoned building seshes hit the best, but only when you’re with someone,” she said, smiling to herself as she looked back on the fun she had in her youth. “No fun being by yourself in one of these things.”

He looked at her with a slightly quizzical gaze, as he abandoned his pantry search to stand closer to her. “Didn’t take ya as a druggie,” he huffed in a defensive tone.

He told her very little about Merle, but she remembered how he told her about Merle’s drug habits. Suddenly, she felt guilty about recalling her drug experiences with joy when he had only known it as a destructive force. She closed the cabinet, turning around and standing up to meet his gaze. “It wasn’t like that,” she said quietly with a timid demeanor. “I never did anything hard, I was just a kid with nothing to do.”

“Yeah,” he said curtly, dropping his stare to the dirty floor, clearly getting more defensive about the topic.

Not wanting to drop the conversation, she threw out a last-ditch effort to keep him talking to her. She crossed her arms, rubbing the sides of her upper arms as she expressed, “Hey, thanks for taking me with you on your run... I know we don’t talk a lot, but I enjoy it when we do.”

The tension building in his shoulders dropped and he looked back at her. “I, uh, enjoy it too,” he admitted. For a moment it felt like there was a spark, a hint of something more to come between them. She softly smiled, looking down bashfully before locking eyes with him again. He could see the sparkle in her eyes, but he was never as bold as Merle was when it came to making moves. Hell, Merle would harass women like he got paid to do it. Daryl was forever stuck as the little brother, being put down so much as a kid making him now too shy as an adult to be as confident as his older brother.

She, on the other hand, was always so relaxed around him. She almost never seemed too shy to say what was on her mind. He didn’t know if this came from a new lifestyle of expecting life to end short, or if she had always been this way, but he appreciated her talking to him even when he couldn’t find words to say.

Suddenly, the sight of a walker passed by the kitchen window. The rotting man with a half-gouged face stumbled by the window, oblivious to what was just past the glass shield.

She was facing away from the window, but he saw and reacted immediately, pulling her to him and covering her mouth and with his large hand before she let out a muffled gasp from the unexpected grabbing. He pulled her down the ground with him, below the line of sight through the window. Her panicked eyes locked with his, and he put a finger to his lips, nonverbally queuing her to make no sounds. He gestured towards the window, and she understood that he must’ve seen something that caused him to react.

After a few minutes to make sure the walker was gone, he took his hand off of her mouth, and she realized his body was closer to hers than anyone’s body has ever been. She began to blush, feeling her body growing hotter and adrenaline-induced arousal blooming in her. Being a virgin was something she never talked about; it just never came up in a world where survival was what mattered. And even though survival mattered now, all she could focus on was the pressure of his body weight on top of hers, and his abdomen pressing into her hips.

Daryl knew the walker passed without noticing them or being drawn to the cabin, but he found that he couldn’t lift himself off of her just yet. He could sense her demeanor had shifted and that she wasn’t just nervous now, but flustered. She swallowed the saliva that gathered in her mouth anxiously, giving the most awkward, breathy chuckle before whispering, “I’ve, uh... never been this close to anyone before,” thinking it would be humorous.

He gave an obvious up-and-down before whispering in return, “A pretty thing like you’s never been touched before?”

She went stiff, her mouth forming a flat line before shaking her head to signify that, no, she had never been touched and confirming that, yes, she was a virgin.

He paused for a moment, teetering the border of being respectful and staying silent or offering some sort of fix for her, to help her experience her first time before either of their lives could possibly be cut short by the new rough world’s circumstances. “Y’know...” he quietly stammered, “we could—”

“Yes,” she whispered, cutting him off before he could finish his question. Normally, she would have been painfully shy, but his body already against hers, the rush of the sudden hiding, and how much she undeniably enjoyed his hand over her mouth all lined up to have her needing more. This was the first time she had ever had this rush, and she trusted Daryl with her life.

Truthfully, this wasn’t the first time he had thought about this. One of the only single, pretty girls in their camp? Of course he had thought about this. He never thought he was particularly her type, or that she’d even look his way like that, but in this moment, he was able to put all of those thoughts to the side.

He looked into her eyes deeply, scanning her face for anything that would let him know that he should not take her right here, right now. He found nothing. In fact, the glimmer in her eyes pleaded with him to make a move. He dipped his head down to her, placing his lips on hers with that masculine force that intensified the kiss tenfold.

She gasped from the suddenness of his move, but quickly melted into his touch, creeping her fingers up his sides. As their kiss deepened, his body moved up against hers, and a small whine caught in her throat from the pressure changes. She spread her legs, allowing his body to dip in closer and his hips to meet hers. He could just feel the heat radiating from her clothed loins, causing him to harden in his pants. Feeling the stiffness press against her sent electricity flying all throughout her body and sent anticipatory shivers down her spine. In her pheremone-induced confidence, she removed the first article of clothing, letting go of his hair to reach down and pull her shirt up over her head, momentarily breaking their kiss and revealing her bra. He took his opportunity to latch his lips onto her neck, rubbing his hands all over her exposed torso while sucking hard on the soft skin of her neck. There were definitely going to be marks left, but she didn’t mind.

He grabbed a hold of her hips, grinding his covered erection against the inner seam of her jeans, causing her to gasp from the sensation of her seam being pushed into her. She reached down to unbutton her pants, needing less layers between the grinding, but he stopped her hands. He pulled her pants down the length of her legs for her in a gentlemanly manner, making her feel more confident that he was the right man to do this with for the first time. He couldn’t help but stare at her panties, becoming painfully hard at the sight of the desperate wet patch that was already there.

And there she was, half-naked in all her glory on a dirty kitchen floor in an old abandoned cabin, him still fully dressed. But he wasn’t ready to indulge himself in the pleasure of taking her just yet. She watched in nervous awe as he reached a hand down, grazing his knuckles against her covered slit, the ridges of his knuckles making her hips buck up and eliciting a soft whimper form her. The noise from her reminded him of where they were and what had just happened. With a cautious tone, he whispered, “I’m gon’ need you to keep real quiet for me, darlin’. Wouldn’ wanna attract any walkers.”

She nodded softly, her eyes big and round in a plea for him to continue. His goal was to give her the best first time he could, so he gingerly pulled her panties down her legs, tossing them to the side next to her jeans, scooting himself back so that he could fully see her soaked heat.

He dipped his head below her line of sight, using his tongue to lick a sloppy stripe up the center of her folds, ending with a flick at her sensitive bud. This elicited a moan from her, after which she threw her arm over her mouth to muffle any more noise. He admittedly was not the best at eating pussy, but he did what felt natural in an effort to warm her up for him. He placed his large calloused hands on her thighs, spreading them farther as he softly lapped at her, spreading the wetness from her hole. He could hear her muffled whines as she attempted to remain quiet, which encouraged him to slide his tongue up, hooking onto the little bud, causing her hips to buck. Realizing this was a sensitive spot, he deftly latched his lips around the bud of nerves, sucking softly while occasionally adding a prodding lick up from her entrance. This must have been the right thing to do because it had her grinding her hips up onto his face and gripping his hair with the hand that wasn’t muffling her moans. He moved a hand from her thigh to touch her, feeling her sopping wetness on his fingers. He then slowly and carefully dipped a thick finger into her, making her moan the loudest she had yet.

He lifted his head to say, “Shh, baby, we gotta keep quiet,” before returning his mouth to her heat.

“It just feels so good,” she whispered in the most desperate voice he had ever heard from her. This turned him on more, but his attention returned to her loins, as he began to pump his finger in and out while he resumed his tongue on her sensitive bud. When he added a second finger to help stretch her out before his length did, he could just see what it did to her. She held her legs up, thighs squeezing him with intensity as she felt an unfamiliar tightening in her core. The sensation made her a whining mess, moving her hips in rhythm against his face.

He pulled back, removing his fingers from her warmth, making her whine like a spoiled child in response. “Why’d you stop?” she whispered, and he gave a light chuckle.

“Don’ tell me I’ve spoiled ya, sweetheart,” he joked, leaning back to pull his shirt off. She watched him do this, eyeing his muscular abdomen and letting it excite her further. He unzipped his pants, pushing down his pants and boxers below his hips, finally revealing his throbbing erection. She stared at it like an animal in the zoo that she had never seen before, instinctively reaching out a inquisitive hand to grab hold of it, pulling a grunt from deep in his throat. She ran the tips of her fingers up the length, lightly dancing her fingertips on the head, the sensation causing a drip of pre-cum to leak out, and she swiped it with her thumb, her eyes studying it with intrigue.

He took his length in his hand, and lined it up with her entrance, stroking it up and down her slit a couple of times to gather her wetness on it. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until he pushed in, releasing her breath with a sigh. Thank god he had warmed her up first, but even still it hurt a little bit as he pushed all the way in. He stopped moving when he was all the way in, pausing to look in her eyes with a look that conveyed a message of, ‘You ready for this?’

She nodded, rolling her eyes back as he started with a slow pace. His thick arms surrounded her as he held himself above her, watching her face as it changed from slight pain to pleasure. She had never felt such a deep pleasure in her before, her eyes welling with tears of joy as she struggled to keep herself from moaning loudly. The push and pull of his member in her felt like the push and pull of an ocean wave of pleasant tingles, that tightness in her core beginning to return.

When he picked up his pace, letting out his own small grunts, she couldn’t hold her moans back anymore. The sounds of her pleasure sounded like beautiful music to his ears, but then he remembered why she had to stifle them in the first place. He moved a hand to cover her mouth, gripping her jaw a tightly as he continued to thrust. The hand on her mouth turned her on more, letting herself make all of her noises into his hand.

“Baby, yer gonna bring in some walkers if ya keep makin’ those pretty sounds,” he cooed, sounding more gentle than she had ever heard his voice. She nodded, breathing deeply with her nose and hearing the whistle from her nostrils against his hand. The tightening in her body had shifted to a building sensation, as the gliding of his length through her and the danger of being so vulnerable mixed together to create an excitement that she had never been close to feeling before. Every time he thrusted into her, it felt like he was hitting a button that sent sparks all throughout her body, and she could feel all of her pleasure gather in one place as he bent his head down to lay more sloppy wet kisses on her neck.

He kept his rhythm steady, not wanting to hurt or overwhelm her for her first time, but he could feel himself becoming needier, needing more of her enveloped around him, so he pressed harder, deeper. The deeper he hit that spot in her, the closer she was to reaching that peak of pleasure, and soon her nails were digging into his sides. Her moans morphed into high pitched squeals buried beneath his hand, letting him know that she was close.

And she was so close. She felt as her walls uncontrollably tightened around him as her inched towards the edge of her orgasm, and he began thrusting fast and hard, overstimulating her senses and sending her body into a pleasurable shock. She began moving her hips up into his as her body craved more.

And then it happened. Her body hit its peak of stimulation, a surge of indescribable pleasure billowed through her, making her walls clench down so tightly on him that he had to hiss through his teeth to not finish then and there. Hot tears rolled down the sides of her face and she shakily moaned with an open, drooling mouth into his hand. As he continued his hard pounding, the audacious sounds of the wet slapping sent him into a frenzy of desire, speeding up his pace as he neared his own climax. The continuing pleasure had her writhing underneath him, wrapping her arms and legs around him tightly and pulling him closer. His hand squeezed her jaw hard, sure to leave some bruising on the edges of her cheeks, yet she still let out gleeful moans as he rode out her orgasm for her. He reached a hard finish, letting out a guttural grunt as his hips stuttered, releasing a hot load into her and tiredly dropping his head into her neck and finally letting go of her mouth.

In a foggy haze of her first time being cock-drunk, she still managed a tiny giggle. He perked his head up, looking at her half-lidded eyes and a slight curl up of his lips. He spoke with a low gravelly tone as he quietly asked, “Not bad for a first time?”

“Not bad? How are people not doing this all the time?” she whispered over-excitedly, evoking a sheepish smile from him.

“C’mon now, we gotta head back,” he reminded her, getting up off of her and extending out a hand to help her up. She shyly took his hand, surprised at how easily he yanked her up off the ground. She would have felt embarrassed about being so undressed, but it turned into a humorous bubble popping up in her when she noticed his square little man-butt before he pulled his boxers and pants back up. But the bubble burst when she saw the old, large scars on his back. Saving that conversation for when they weren’t in a post-coital glow, she looked away and got dressed quietly as he pulled his shirt back on over his head.

They snuck out of the cabin, after only finding an unopened box of saltine crackers and an old warm six-pack of beer to bring back to the group.

“So,” she started, nervously kicking the dirt as she trailed behind Daryl, “did you want this to just be a one time thing, or...?”

“Darlin’, I hope we get to do that all the time,” he teased, throwing her own words back at her.

She smiled to herself as she followed him back to the farm.

[visd3stele]

do you ever stop to think that maybe rin would have agreed to work with nezha for a better nikan if the hesperians weren't an issue? rin realized in those long days and nights in arlong that nezha has been going through the same dificulties, trying to help their country just as she and kitay were doing. kitay insisted on peace negociations. nezha could never hurt rin. IF ONLY the hesperians with their beliefs wouldn't have interferred and try to erradicate shamanism, which became tin's whole life and purpose – not just as a shaman herself, but training new ones, reviving old nikara from ashes – they all could have worked together and actually do something good for their country, their people. instead, nezha was left alone, between a rock and a hard place, trying to kill just enough of his cultre so that the hesperians are happy, but it can still be remembered when they're free and can practice it in peace again.

and maybe that was the point. nikan was doomed from the start because that's how colonialism works.

[thegeorgiatennantblog]

*Clanking pots and pans together *

I have a message for all the tin hatters and misogynists in the Tumblr fandom.

28th August, The Year of Our Nerd 2024

To Whom It May Concern

It has been precisely one year and one month to the fact that I first came across this malady that has been plaguing our fandom. Other fandoms have been more or less unfortunate in this regard. What started as a lighthearted joke has now turned into a toxic, vile, festering wound. For a long time I either ignored these blogs and their opinions or very politely tried to dismiss them. For an even longer time I was made to feel that I was in the wrong. After all we live in a free society and all of us believe int he idea of freedom of speech, freedom to hold whatever views and beliefs, and freedom to express those views and beliefs. But the very same citizens of these free society's in today's world are also facing a dilemma: how far does this right go? Is it unconditional? Is it absolute? Or does it qualify to some form of check or some form of necessary derogation under exceptional circumstances? When do those circumstances arise?

Most of us have come to an understanding in regard to the question, though all of us may not agree to it: it is understood that where your right to exercise your freedom offends and restricts my right to do or causes in any way for me or anyone else to feel endangered, then that is where we draw the line.

Reading @do-angels-dream-of-starry-seas 's post today I have come to the conclusion that the time has come to draw that line. It is a question on where we stand as a fandom if we let such bigotry and such hate prevail any longer.

I want to let everyone know where I stand. I have nothing against fanfiction. I have nothing against RPF. People have been creating RPF since time immemorial. If not for RPF a large amount of literature, film, music and other forms of art would not exist. Shakespear's Histories are essentially RPF, Hamilton is RPF, Netflix's The Crown is RPF, Le Morte d'Arthur is RPF, Baz Luhrman's Elvis is RPF and so is Andrew Dominic's Blonde. You may like some of it, you might dislike some of it. You might even be vehemently against some of it. But that's all it is at the end of the day; fiction. It doesn't hurt anyone. The real problem arises when people start becoming unbale to differentiate between fiction and reality. And that's no better than thinking that just cz someone played a serial killer in a movie means they're evil irl too.

It becomes suffocating for others to exist in these spaces when the delusion that the RFP is real transcends to take an even worse shape namely hating the real people involved in said person's life. How could you justify hating on their real life partners just so you can satisfy your delusional belief that these men are actually in love with each other.

Maybe it springs from a need to justify our lives in terms of conspiracy theories in this growing pandemic of untruths and fake news. Maybe it springs from some deep rooted internalized misogyny. Who can say?

Before I move on I want to highlight some problems with the wntire tinhatter discourse.

The existence of a PR. I want to clarify this here and now. PR works for important, famous, insanely rich people whose global fame makes their identity a part of the public domain so much that their entire image needs to be curated to meet certain requirements. PR works for Taylor Swift and Leonardo DiCaprio and Barak Obama. Who is does NOT work for are people who are only locally well known, live reasonably ordinary lifestyles, and have a painfully insignificant following outside their own cultural context.

The idea that one picture or a five second video can tell the truth about someone's entire personal life. It cannot. It never will. Body language is not even a science. Body language is misleading. Facial expressions are misleading. I am writing this right now with the most bland expression on my face. People around me think I'm writing an email. My internal emotions right now are another story. Moreover no one owes anyone any sort of information on their personal life, their love life, their mood, their life choices or whatever. Their lives are not public property. Please respect that.

The women are the villains. This blatant misogyny has become intolerable as the days go by considering most of these posts are written by women themselves. The whole controlling wife, poor meek guy trope is so fckng infuriating. When did we wake up to a world where women hold the reigns and an adult white upper middle class male cannot tell her that he wants a divorce. I thought this only happened to unprivileged women in third world countries who cannot file a divorce bcs then she will be left penniless and socially disgraced. The women baby trapped them. Of course they feel responsibility for the kids now. Child birth is the second most painful experience after being burnt to death. No woman does it for the pleasure of it nor for some strategic benefit that it will serve her. And giving birth to not just one but many. And then raising them. That's not easy! Secondly, having children is a mutual decision and process. If only women could make babies, we'd get rid of men for good lol! (this is a joke plz don't @ me) If someone decides to have children with someone, and we're not talking just one accidental pregnancy or sth... we're talking several kids over the years.... then they probably have that level of attachment, love and commitment to their partner. It's just common sense.

Absolute cynicism. Anything Georgia and Anna do is met with cynicism and their words are deliberately twisted to mean the opposite. While D and M will be applauded for speaking up for a cause, when G and A do the same, they are shouted down as pretentious or that PR made them do it. When D and M show affection towards each other that's all real and true but when G and A show affection to their partners it fake and a PR stunt. Moreover, the way they interact with their partners is also completely misunderstood. Anna is more private and subtle about her gestures of praise and affection. But from what she does show publicly we know that she absolutely adores her partner and her kids. Georgia on the other hand has her own way. She teases, makes jokes, pokes fun at him, but she's also literally the woman that is being ultra-horny for him on Twitter and Instagram in front of everyone else. And I think that comes from the fact that they were friends first and lovers second and they have maintained that playful friendly relationship with each other. Still, she is accused of never being appreciative, being cringey, possessive, creepy and always bringing him down. Oh, and we never talk about how Michael next to never promotes Davis's achievements. In fact, no one else I know does it. Literally the only person is Georgia jumping up and down going "This is my partner! Have you seen them! Have you seen how awesome they are! I love them!" Not just that, these tinhatters have such double standards that while D's neurodivergent traits are being praised, G takes the rap for it. She's a careless mum, an unworthy partner; none of her professional achievements matter. She is fighting her dyslexia and neurodivergence to achieve something but the tinhatters will make ableist remarks to bring her down. But they don't just stop there. They accuse her of abuse, rape and cyber harassment. Pray that she doesn't find out because accusing someone of that can get you behind the bars hon!

I know that none of this is going to disappear over night. We fight the fight every day and we hope that tumblr goes back to being the safe space it once was. But till then, it is important that we stay strong and stay together. I have had people come into my ds with links and other stuff that made me want to jump off a cliff. I have been subjected to some horrendous lies, all in a bid to 'convert' me. Sadly that's not happening babes.

So I just want these tinhatters to know that if you're here, then we're here too. And no matter how much of this toxic bile you keep spewing we'll keep washing it away. And that @dtmsrpfcringe and @goodomenswarning don't have to do it alone. If you wanna go at them then come at me bitches!

And I'm not scared to call y'all out @ingravinoveritas @letscoffeebreak @nightgoodomens

@invisibleicewands @climb-dtennant-like-a-tree @thetardisisbluandroseistoo and others but mainly you guys cz you're the ring leaders. Go on block me if you want to I don't care! Or better, send me some of those creepy asks you guys send Tori. At least it would take the burden off her!

Oh and, before I go, @dtmsrpfcringe you're a champ and we love you and we stand with you!!!

Yours Sincerely,

Meena. x

curator of TheGeorgiaTennantBlog

[mwahmwahkissesdarling]

My A'aru, My Heaven

Pairing: Ahkmenrah x Fem/Maybe Genderfluid Reader

Summary: A taste testing night with a sprinkle of love (and religion ig)

Warnings: Kissing, fluff, extreme fluff, err fluff, more fluff, Cussing maybe, spelling and grammar mistakes, controversial topic, religion, me writing Christianity as someone who is not Christian, uhhh lmk if i need to put any other warnings???? idk

Note: yall the ahkmenrah brain rot is ... rotting? my brain? so hard

Alsooooooo this is my first fic (on this acc, posted anyway) so be easy

*A'aru is the Egyptian equivalent of Heaven for Christians <33 #wikipedia

You rip open a colorful package and hand it to Ahkmenrah.

"Here, these are gummy worms."

The Pharoah looked alarmed. "You eat…worms?"

You laugh. "Theyre not real worms. Here, just try one."

Ahk glances at you, unconvinced, but he takes a red and blue gummy in between his fingers and nibbles at it.

"Hm."

"Well?" You bit into yours and watched his reaction.

He shrugs. "Theyre… enjoyable, I suppose, but I don't prefer them myself."

You grin. "Yeah, me niether, I just wanted to see what you thought." You turn in your criss-cross-applesauce position on the floor in Ahkmen's exhibit to pick out a new candy and come back with two tin wrapped chocolate pieces. Picking one out, you hand it to him. "Have a Kiss," you joke.

Ahk stares at the candy in his hand, then back at you. "S-sorry?"

You look back at him, then realizing he wouldn't know the name of this candy, you laugh. "It's the name of the candy. Hershey Kisses." He slowly smiles. "Well, I wouldn't say no to a kiss, either." You roll your eyes. "Seriously-"

Ahk cuts you off with his lips. You lean into the kiss, setting your 'Kiss' down and running your hands up his torso and into his hair, letting your fingers tangle there. He cups your face with one hand and places the other on his sarcophagus case behind you, pressing you against it. You let him, knowing he usually doesn't take control like this.

After a moment, Ahk breaks away and breaths heavily, catching his breath.

"Do I really take away your breath that bad?" You joke, panting.

He runs his thumb against your bottom lip, his eyes flitting between your lips and your eyes. "Yes," He says simply. "You do."

You feel yourself blush and you smile. "Love you too, Ahk," was all you could get out.

Ahk smiles back and brushes his lips against your temple, then leans back, letting you have your space to continue taste-testing modern candy.

You resume your earlier position and cross your legs, pressing your knee against his as you grab your Hersheys. "Come on, eat it."

He groans but takes it and unwraps it with your guidance. He pops it into his mouth and his eyes widen.

You grin at him. "Right? Personally I prefer caramel with my chocolate, but I figured start small, y'know?"

Ahk slowly chews it. "Holy Ra. This is chocolate?" His mouth is still full, and you giggle at his bad manners. "Don't talk with your mouth full. Come on, King Ahkmenrah, fourth king of the fourth kingdom of Egypt and all things fancy, have better manners." You tease and pause. "But yeah, it's chocolate. Although I'd describe it as heaven."

The Pharoah glanced at you, opening another Hershey. "I thought you said that was a place."

You nod, taking the Kiss out of his hands, throwing in the air, and catching it with your mouth. "Yeah. The place that Christians beleive is the perfect afterlife."

Ahk glares at you but otherwise ignores your theft. "You cant call a taste or an object heaven, then. It'd go against grammar rules and the belief of a Chrisin."

Swallowing, you shrug. "First of all, it's Christian, second of all, I don't think they care anymore, although don't quote me on that. My ma's Christian, and she refers to my mother as heaven."

He frowns, thinking. "So, you can call your other half 'heaven'?"

"Some people do," you pause. "Well. I've only ever heard it from my parents, and also Bruno Mars, but I think if someone says it in public, it's considered PDA. Public displays of affection." You reply to his confused look.

Ahk nods. "And thats… frowned upon." You make an "eh" sound. "Well, people don't particularly like it, but it's not as bad as, like, racism or something. Far from it." You scoff.

"So, for a… hypothetical example… I could call you heaven, but only in… private."

You turn and stare at him, a blush forming "W-well, yes, I-"

He kisses you, effectively shutting you up. You lose all train of thought, lost in his touch. He pulls you close, practically onto his lap before pulling away.

"You're my heaven." Ahk smiles at you, and you smile back.

"And you're my A'aru."

Your Pharoah, your king, your Ahk, your little slice of heaven, in your little corner of home.