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aplaceforyourhearttorest · 4 months ago

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Pages Deep ⨾ Kirk Hammett (18+)

Mentions/Warnings: mutual masturbation, fingering, partial edging, unprotected sex, creampie

Lukewarm puffs of air cascade themselves over the upper halves of your thighs as you haphazardly listen to your boyfriend read out loud, the shuttering exhalations coming from the aircon above you sounding like an exhausted plea, as you settle yourself down in bed to fully lay on your stomach. A quiet sigh escapes through your fatigue laden lips as your left cheek makes contact with the cool pillowcase, and your head rests only a few inches away from Kirk's right leg. You lift your forearm to spread your fingers over the denim fabric of his jeans, a small and content smile lifting your relaxed expression as his voice overpowers the dilapidated machine and blankets itself around you.

"Sunlight settles over her like an earthly greeting once I've surpassed, and time is no longer a continuum. Faded drops of dew lay atop of her golden skin as I watch from afar, my eyes indebted in the way the sun's rays settle on her and make her continuously shine. I shake in place and yearn to be near, while the bite marks I once made on her skin, begin to appear." You shift your head further to the side and blearily reopen your eyes, your lids feeling heavy as they focus in on the way his fingers grip onto the red tinted pages of his favorite book, and as his grin widens once he feels your gaze settle on his parted lips.

Goosebumps cluster on your chilled and exposed flesh as he purposefully flicks his tongue out to lap at his bottom, your knees audibly connecting and gathering the slept in sheets between them as warmth begins to pool in your midsection. "White casts on gray, while gold specks her skin, and I fight back the urge to make them red again. To have my hands buried in every inch of her skin, while her nails break through the layers of my own. To be able to declare her as mine while I'm inside, and for her to know that I am hers even as I stand on the side and hide. I crave for you even when I'm with you, the temporary taste of you on my tongue never enough to satisfy the hunger I'll always have. In the dark, your own show on mine- the perfect opposition to what we are to each other. My mark on you in the sunlight, and yours only perceptible on me in the dark."

You curl your fingers to lightly scrape the bottom of your nails against his slowly tensing muscle, your own in your stomach beginning to clench as the flow in his cadence begins to lower and slow in pace. "For what am I without my insatiable hunger, and what are you without your fool? The sharpness of my tongue and teeth, were made to burrow themselves inside of you." A light gust of wind makes contact with the bottom of your raised palm as he sets the worn and read through book down in the space between his widely spread-out legs, your pulse quickening as he grazes his fingertips along the tops of your curved knuckles.

"Has anyone ever told you that you don't play fair?" You nearly rasp, attempting to keep your hand in place, as you use your other to push yourself up onto unsteady knees. You allow yourself to be tugged forward and into his welcoming heat, the silk now tangled around your ankles in soft tendrils of ligature. Strong thighs bracket you in as Kirk rests his head against the headboard, his earlier grin looking satisfied as his free hand reaches down and back to cup underneath your right asscheek. The hand he's caressing your own with comes up to mold itself on the curve of your jawline, and you instinctively press the weight of your head into it.

"Don't make a bet with me then, if you intend to lose," your boyfriend teases, his eyes soft and enraptured as he elongates his thumb to press it into the small gap between your pout. You bring your appendage forward to lathe his fingertip wet with your saliva, before nipping your teeth on the precipice of it. "You remember what the loser can't do, right? Can't cum during sex, or even use the other's mouth, hands or fingers to get off before or after." You remove your mouth off of his digit with an audible pop, and use the sheets as leverage to partially lean back for some more room. Kirk looks at you in confusion, before lust quickly takes over his expression, as you lift his shirt over your head.

You hold back the urge to arch into his touch as he squeezes the back of your upper thigh and tries to yank you forward. Maintaining eye contact, you bend your arms behind yourself to unclasp your bra. "How are you the only fool, when I am incomplete without you? The sun shines brightly down on me, but it is nothing in comparison to your cold and hard touch, the way I warm when you are near me," you reiterate what he's read to you multiple times with ease, beckoning yourself forward to graze your bare front against his and brush your lips upon his silent gasp. You force yourself to sit down on the backs of your heels and away from him before you can fall into his touch once again, your hands coming down to splay themselves on the expanse of your goosebump ridden flesh. You watch as his hand falls limp at his side, and as his pupils dilate as your breasts come into full view. "For your bite and your taste is all I wish to be able to sense and feel, with your soul already intertwined with mine."

You allow your desperation to be shown and apparent as you spread your bent legs wide, a weakened mewl breaking through your pressed together lips at the curse Kirk lets out once he sees your underwear nearly soaked through. You gaze at him through heavy and heady eyes, as your hands work their way up to tug down the black and ribbed lining. You shiver as the aircon's air makes its way down to your now bare and dampened sex, and you slide down to rest your backside and lower spine on the bedpost behind you. Placing a hand on the end of your groin and forcing yourself not to reach any lower without him joining you, you plead.

"Play with me."

₊

The first instructed touch has you both gasping, with you arching your spine to press the palm of your hand into your own awaiting sex. Kirk unfastens his belt and unceremoniously tugs his jeans down to his knees, your mouth beginning to water as soon as the visible pearl of precum bleeds its way through the confines of his fitted boxers. His dick stands tall and erect, nearly being long enough to rest under his belly button, with his cockhead peeking out from the spandex hem. Your boyfriend watches as you squirm in place and attempt to not move your hand without his guidance or permission. "Run your thumb along your vein, and tap at the head." You try to permit, the tension in your voice making it nearly impossible for you to speak without wavering. You watch in awe as he follows your instructions, his shaft visibly jumping against the fabric before he even reaches down to touch himself.

"Make yourself even more and wet for me," he starts, his chest nearly heaving as he holds himself back from wrapping a hand around himself, or even worse, sliding himself down flat on his back to eat you out until you cry, with your limbs pressing him into the mattress as you ride his tongue. You lift your palm and tilt your head downwards without breaking eye contact, a hot pulse of essence making itself out of your fluttering hole as you watch your boyfriend shudder at the thick glob that makes its way out of the space between your bitten red lips. You sharply inhale as the warmth becomes cold from the circulating air, the culmination of spit thickening as it leisurely makes its way down your already soaking wet folds. "Spread those pretty lips apart, and let me see how ready you are for me. Like you always are."

You do as you're told, already feeling on edge, even though you still haven't been able to touch yourself properly. The tone in his voice and being able to see how equally into it he is himself, is enough to make you nearly cum without any friction or stimulation. You shift to straighten out your legs and nearly jolt as your foot make contact with his own, before relaxing. The feeling of him being near, instead of just seeing him, calms you down more than you expect. Your thumb tremors with the need to flick itself against your swollen clit, but you force yourself to remain still, taking in a deep breath as you peer over at him and catch him continuously rubbing at his cockhead.

"Stop," you instruct, a hot flash of arousal flooding through you as he obediently freezes and locks his legs. "Tell me what you're missing right now." You suggest, deciding to tease him and hold off on allowing him to squeeze his shaft and touch himself. Kirk swallows thickly and allows himself to temporarily close his eyes, another bead of prerelease smearing itself on his tan and sweating skin as he tirelessly moves in place.

"I miss the way you feel around me," he breathes around a hoarse whisper, his voice nearly silent over the incessant background noise. You use that as an excuse to push yourself off of the bedpost and get a few inches closer to him. "Whether it be your mouth, your throat, or your pussy. The way you'd swallow around me, the way your hand pulsed and barely made it all the way around my girth. The way your walls would just suck me in and milk me dry, all of it." You keen and fist the sheets around you, your eyes widening in shock as he reopens his own and there's tears collecting along his ducts. "Hurts when I can't touch myself, but you look too damn good to cum just yet. I feel like I'm losing my mind over here."

"I miss the way you taste," you admit, unsolicited. "How warm you feel when you cum in me, and the places you reach inside that no one else has before. I miss the way you hold me down sometimes, and encourage me to just take it, and the other times you let me take control. When I ride you and praise you until you push your seed so far deep inside of me, it's like I can almost taste it. Seeing you pulse and jump for me, it's nearly enough to make me cum without even touching myself." You cry out as a heavy pulsation makes its way down to your clit and causes you to tremor just from talking about it, and you bend forward to reach for his hand, allowing the no-contact rule of your bet to go fuck itself instead of you.

"I just need to know you're there, need to know you're here with me." You brokenly murmur, going completely lax when you're tugged back into his space once again, this time being lifted up to rest on his lap. You both groan in unison as you two rub against each other, the cotton of his underwear adding onto the friction you've been so desperate for. Calloused fingertips are making their way in between your legs before you can even acknowledge them, and Kirk uses his feet for leverage to hoist you up and make enough room for both of his hands to spread and take you apart.

"Take what you need, baby. You know I can never really say no to you." he assures you, before bringing his left hand's index and middle fingers up to your entrance, and his right hand's thumb up to your clit. They're slowly being glided into you and rubbed against you before you can even react, and the sounds of exhausted and pent-up pleasure you let out reverberate around the room. You plant your hands onto his shoulders for stability, and begin to start fucking yourself up and down on his long digits with renewed and spontaneous fervor. Saliva slickens your bottom lip and your eyes begin to blur and daze, yet you still bend down to connect your lips with his. The slick sounds of him curling his fingers inside of you to massage your spongelike spot and your guys' kissing, mesh and turn into one. Thick and roped coils of pleasure tether themselves in your gut, and you force yourself to lift yourself off of his fingers before you can orgasm. You gently push down on his shoulders to signal that you want him flat on his back, and move to straddle him as soon as he does.

"Need to feel you inside of me, it's been too long." You halfheartedly explain, before shakily reaching down to remove his dick from the rest of the confines of his underwear, and guiding him towards your entrance. You lower yourself down to the hilt in one solid thrust and silently shudder as his cockhead makes direct contact with your cervix. Resting your forehead against his, you coerce yourself into keeping your eyes open so you can watch him fall apart. Kirk reaches down to instinctively grasp onto your waist, before pulsing his groin upward to make rough contact with your ass. You both hold onto each other as you piston and thrust with reckless abandon, you planting your feet on the bed underneath you and squatting down to meet his upward thrusts, and him using his own to bear himself inside of you as deep as he can get.

Kirk looks up at you in wondered awe as sweat collects at your browbones and slowly makes its way down your cheekbones due to your exertion, his own collecting at his temples and bleeding into his thick hair haloed out on the pillow beneath his head. Your boyfriend brings his still soaking wet thumb back up to draw figure 8's on your oversensitive clit, and he lets out a choked around grunt as you become vicelike tight around him. You clamp your thighs around his own and rely on him to pierce his way in and out of you, the dual sensation of his thumb and him hitting all the right spots enough to make you unable to think straight. Your jaw slackens as your orgasm hits you, and you can't help but slump forward, your forearms plummeting down to rest near each side of his head. You steady yourself again and bear down to meet his staggering strokes, ignoring your own overstimulation to make sure your boyfriend gets to cum as hard as you just did.

"You're doing so fucking good for me, just like I knew you would," you praise, your words sounding slurred and fucked out, yet still coherent enough to make Kirk's eyes go unfocused and wide. You let out a drawn out moan and a sound of surprise as his hands connect together behind your back, and push you down onto him, pelvis to pelvis, as he uses you to chase his own pleasure. "Just like that, just like that." You brokenly repeat, your stomach muscles beginning to contract in a way that you knew meant there was another orgasm growing and incoming. The force of his thrusts brushes his groin to rub right against your clit in the most perfect way, and for the second time today, and within minutes of each other, you were gone. White pulses flutter throughout your eyesight and your breath is taken away from you, the only things keeping you grounded and helping you remember this is real being the warmth of your boyfriend's seed filling you and covering your walls, and his safe and secure hold around you keeping you in place.

You turn your head to the side and suck in greedy inhalations of artificial, chilled air, your eyelids feeling too heavy for you to be able to keep them open on your own. Before you're able to space out, a kiss is being placed on the side of your neck, right above a mark Kirk left on you a week ago, and you smile against his shoulder. Sunlight beams in through a curtain, and you can't help but speak up, only, a little different this time.

"How are you the only fool, when I am incomplete without you? The sun shines brightly down on me, but it is nothing in comparison to your warm and soft touch, the way I feel complete when you are near me."

You feel his amused laughter quiver against your cloying skin, and you both relax in each other's arms and warmth, as gold specks on both of your guys' skin.

#metallica #kirk hammett #kirk hammett x reader #kirk hammett smut #metallica imagines #metallica smut #metallica x reader #metallica fanfiction

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its-all-papaya · 4 months ago

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Can I hear more about your clingy landoscar idea pls 🧡

Yes!! Bonus snippet!! RICHES!! (I couldn’t decide which to write so I picked both). this is like... not necessarily the same tone as the first thing at all... but... they fit on the same continuum if you imagine some progression in the middle, idk. like i said. the word doc is calling to me.

read the first part

After Monaco, after Oscar’s moved to Monaco, Lando finally convinces him to come out for a night. Oscar has drinks, of course, but he stays on the conservative side of sloppy. Mostly because the way Lando’s handling him is not something he wants to risk forgetting even a second of.

Oscar knew Lando was tactile, but it’s ratcheted up a notch when he’s drunk. It’s much different, much more overwhelming, when Lando is everywhere, demanding every one of Oscar’s senses, instead of confined to only a voice and only sometimes a face on a phone screen. He starts out with a hand on Oscar’s back to keep him near in the flow of the crowd, but that evolves into an arm around Oscar’s waist after the first round of shots. Soon it’s fingers around Oscar’s hips while Lando waits behind him at the bar, then a leg tossed over Oscar’s when they’re squished into a booth with Charles and Max. After midnight, it’s Lando’s head tipped back on Oscar’s shoulder, throat exposed obscenely so Oscar’s got no choice but to watch his adam’s apple bob as he drains the last of whatever Charles had ordered for the table. Not long after, it’s Lando in Oscar’s lap (“just making room, not a problem, right, Osc?”) and Lando’s arm hooked around his neck, curls tickling Oscar’s chin, fingers brushing back and forth where his sleeve meets his bicep. Oscar can’t tell if Lando’s doing it on purpose, or just sensory seeking in his half-dazed, half-coherent drunk state. He can’t tell if any of it’s on purpose, truthfully, even when Lando’s mouth is against his ear, asking “d’you ever dance? would you wanna? with me?” and his teeth catch a little on the lobe on the last few words.

Oscar doesn’t dance, but what he does do is almost anything Lando asks him to, so it’s in the middle of a crush of sweaty bodies where he first notices something a little different in the direction of Lando’s touch. He’d been dragged by the wrist to the center of the mess, and he’s still planning to stay mostly sober, but he wishes he’d saved one of his drinks for now to help dull the itch of discomfort in his brain and his limbs. Lando’s plastered to his front, his own fresh drink in one hand, the back of Oscar’s shirt scrunched up in the other. Oscar’s seen Lando on the dance floor before, has seen Lando on the dance floor with men before (if some of it was through shitty watermarked fan videos on twitter, that was for him alone to feel any kind of way about), so he can tell the tension in Lando’s back isn’t an all-the-time thing. His grip on Oscar is just north of casual, even when he releases the shirt and goes back to Oscar’s hip, pinky dipping under the hem to rest warm against Oscar’s side.

“Dancing,” he says, like Oscar might have forgotten why they’re here.

Oscar hedges. “Think I’m too sober for that, mate.”

Lando grimaces briefly, but then he’s lifting his own drink up between their chests and backing up just enough to leave space for it there, an offering. When Oscar moves to take it, though, Lando shakes his head and draws him back in, knocking the rim of the glass against Oscar’s chin. He’s smirking like it’s a joke, but Oscar’s missing the punchline as Lando nudges the glass closer again, straw bumping up under Oscar’s cheekbone.

“What,” Oscar says.

“Drink,” Lando says. Like it’s obvious. His pinky dips lower, tracing the top of Oscar’s jeans.

Every part of Oscar feels too warm, sticky with sweat. There’s a reason he doesn’t do clubs. But there’s a reason he’d said yes tonight, and it comes back to him when Lando abandons pretenses and sneaks his whole hand under Oscar’s shirt. It’s too hot, Oscar’s blinking sweat out of his eyes every other time his eyes close.

The ice clinks impossibly loudly against the sides of the glass when Oscar’s fingers close around Lando’s wrist. Condensation is dripping steadily, sliding down the meat of Lando’s hand and pooling where Oscar’s fingers meet his skin. Their eyes stay locked as Oscar guides Lando’s hand back up. They stay locked even as his lips close around the straw and Lando’s part around nothing. His cheeks hollow as he drinks. Lando’s pupils are blown wide, and Oscar spares a second to consider whether Lando’s been out of his sight long enough to have taken anything without him noticing.

“Thanks,” he says when he’s had his fill. The glass is mostly empty and the liquor burns pleasantly all the way down, adding to the fire already smoldering in his stomach.

“Whatever helps.” Lando’s tone is different than Oscar’s ever heard it, but he doesn’t have time to figure that out, because then Lando’s turning around, pressing his back to Oscar’s front, and reaching back to catch Oscar’s hand in his free one - the one that had been on the bare skin of his side a second ago. Everything is still hot and close and overwhelming, but the space under his ribs feels cool with the memory of Lando’s palm.

It’s a blur for awhile. Half of Lando’s drink isn’t really enough to move the needle for Oscar, but he feels drunk instead on the feel of Lando’s abdomen under his palm, the subtle shift of muscle as Lando moves. His head spins with the press of Lando’s hips back into his own, thoughts nebulous in the blue-green light. He catches the eye of a girl across the floor at one point, and her smile sharpens when she sees him looking. He’s not even, really; it’s neither here nor there to him when she starts moving across the floor. Lando’s been like an extension of Oscar’s own body for a bit already, tuned half out for his own sanity, but everything barrels back into focus when Lando’s head tips back again. Oscar recalls his adam’s apple, Charles’ neon shots. A lifetime ago.

“Having fun?” Lando mumbles. His mouth brushes Oscar’s skin. Oscar’s half-convinced it’s an accident, but when he tips his head down to read the words off Lando’s lips, they press more firmly to his jaw. They’re wet and cooler than the ambient air, like he’s just drained the ice from the bottom of his glass. Oscar’s eyes flick back up to clock the woman’s progress, but she’s paused steps away. Oscar feels caught out and guilty even though he hasn’t done anything at all.

“Always, with you,” is what he says. It must be the correct answer, because Lando’s head turns in even further and his lips brush Oscar’s neck in little closed-mouth passes.

When Lando speaks again, Oscar can feel the words spelled out against his skin, drawing goosebumps: “Wanna get out of here?”

Oscar does. Has since the minute he walked in, really. His arm around Lando tightens, drawing him in closer for a final moment, bidding farewell for now to this version of them on the dance floor.

Lando turns back around in his arms, then, not a centimeter further away than he’d started.

“Walk me home?” he asks into Oscar’s cheek.

And Oscar does.

#answered #drabble #landoscar #landoscar fic #landoscar fanfic #lando x oscar #my landoscar #soph writes #this is. horny. i'm sorry? or ur welcome

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lost-in-fandoms · 3 months ago

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hand tattoos that weave around fingers :)

Daniel looks at the smoke winding up towards the red clouds, his whole body feeling heavy.

He's proud of his job, proud of every life he can save, every mistake he can fix, every hole in the spacetime fabric he can mend, but sometimes it weights on him, the trouble of it all. He doesn't know if he can say he's too old for it, he's jumped around too much too even know how much time has truly passed since he was born, but he feels old. He's tired.

"Do you think it's settled?" Blake asks, looking down instead of up, towards the burning pit in the ground that just a few hours earlier had been a rift in the spacetime continuum.

It looks just like normal dirt now, edges mended by Daniel's own fingers, sealed with soulfire.

Daniel hums, not feeling the pull of it anymore, just the steady current of flowing time. They still need to wait until the fire has died down before they can leave the planet, leave the timeline, and go back home, but it's not going to be long now.

He looks down at his hands, at the drop of blood running down towards his wrist when he flexes his left one, the red of it mixing with the red of his tattoo.

The string starts from the crook of his elbow and winds around each finger, twice around his little finger, breaking off in search of its second half. He flexes his hand again, watching it move. His heart aches with the need to follow it.

"Come on, DR, let's go." Blake's voice shakes him out of his head and he nods, closing his eyes and breathing in.

The fabric of spacetime feels like water at first, too elusive and slippery to be grasped, but Daniel has been dealing with it for a long time, doesn't let it fool him. He grabs at his own thread, unspooling it from the ones around it, winding it around his fingers, letting it connect with the red one on his skin.

He feels it when Blake leaves the timeline, following his own thread back to his own heart, his presence leaving a sudden empty space that quickly gets filled by more time, more space.

With a smile, he pulls on his thread, letting his heart guide him back home.

The bedroom is dark when Daniel lets go of spacetime to firmly rest in the present, and even if he knows he had been quiet, he's not surprised when he hears Max's breathing change as he startles awake.

"You're back."

Daniel walks forward, sitting on the bed, already feeling better, and lets Max pull him down in a hug, melting against him with a sigh.

"Always," he whispers, pressing a kiss against Max's sleep-warm skin.

Above the covers, their hands find each other, their red string tattoos complete once again.

#does this even make sense #vaguely inspired by my fave streamer saying the only tattoo he would ever get would be the red string of fate with his wife #isn't that the sweetest shit #also shamelessly stole from my own spacetime travel au i never wrote and never will write #maxiel #my writing #if this makes no sense blame the fact that it's almost 3 am #and also that this is like the fourth thing i write today #if you see a typo close your eyes and tell yourself 'english isn't a real language'#is this what you had in mind? probably not sdjbfjhsd

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outofangband · 10 months ago

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I really loved @gwaedhannen ‘s post about wanting more strangeness in First Age Beleriand and I had a post awhile back about potential strange ecology for Middle Earth so I wanted to revisit it with some more thoughts!

Following up to my speculative biology ideas for elves,

Like the last list, these are more jotting down ideas, please please feel free to give me any to elaborate on!

Mammoths on the Helcaraxë and other cold reaches. Tolkien talks of all creatures that walk or have ever walked the earth existing in Valinor and throughout Arda hence prehistoric and extinct species can also exist here. I do also headcanon smaller herds of woolly mammoths and woolly rhinos in northern Hithlum and north of greater Beleriand. Stellar’s sea cows in the frozen waters:(

Early cenozoic aquatic birds such as Hesperornis off the coasts of Balar and Alqualondë.

Enchanted orchards of Valinor; large, seemingly abandoned self containing gardens and orchards. There are fruit tree orchards hidden behind ivy covered walls; some always filled with Autumn breezes, citrus groves always kept warm and bright lined with lemon trees and deep green grass. Except for the Maia who tend them, the only beings who enter the orchards are elves who do so, usually by mistake.

There are places throughout Arda where the Music was not well, loud, enough. They can be the size of a footstep or a field and are not fully connected to the space time continuum. Those who tread on them will end up elsewhere in time or space and will never realize what had happened.

In the great expanses of unexplored Valinor, there are coves, glens, lagoons, and all sorts of other places that seem shift and change, being there one day and not the next. Even while walking through familiar, charted territory, there is always the possibility of ending up in a hidden clearing, covered in hanging mosses and with strange lights all around.

The forests of Beleriand are full of strange, sometimes dark creatures that have never been properly documented. They are the strange hybrids of Yavanna’s creations and Melkor’s corruption and a few have escaped the eyes of even the Ainur.

The underground lakes of Middle Earth, especially around Angband contain blind, hungry beings, nourished by the volcanic soils. Strange fungi and lichen stick to the walls of the caverns and passageways beneath the fortress.

There are hot springs in several locations in Beleriand South of the Ered Wethrin (there are many in the Ered Wethrin of course but these are not exactly relaxation destinations). Namely in Himring, throughout Hithlum, north of Barad Eithel, parts of Dorthonion, in the caves of Androth, and parts of the Ered Luin. Not all of these are used by residents and not all maintain safe temperatures or conditions but some do! In many parts of Northern Beleriand, they're used for bathing and communal relaxation. There are other springs throughout the March of Maedhros and I like the idea of Himring being built around a hot spring. There are hot and warm springs in both Nargothrond and Menengroth. The definition of warm springs differs from hot springs only in average temperature

The caves of Menengroth and Nargothrond allow elves and others access to the strange wonders of the underground world of Middle Earth. They are lit by lanterns and by certain bioluminescent plants. There are windows in key areas that allow sunlight to filter into some of the larger halls and though there are small gardens of species that do not require direct sunlight, some are stationed in the areas where sunlight filters in. A small tributary of the river Narog flows directly through one of the great halls of Nargothrond. Its flora and fauna remain untouched by the elves and algae and aquatic plants as well as small fish, salamanders in their early stages, and stranger creatures are visible to see for those who walk along it.

In realms with Ainur or certain Eldar rule, natural life may not follow typical laws. Melian has great influence over the biodiversity and climate of Doriath for example even without meaning to.

The horror potential of the boundaries of the girdle or of Nan Elmoth. Time and space distorting, the forest becoming a maze, bird calls confusing and disorienting unwary or unlucky travelers

The Ered Gorgoroth, the eerie, mysterious mountain range, bordered to the north by Dorthonion and to the south by Nan Dungortheb. It was said the spawn of Ungolian haunted these mountains and the valley. I have some more posts on this but I've always imagined there being many pools and meres in Ered Gorgoroth, many harmless though frigid and some completely corrupted by the powers of Ungoliants spawn and other beings. Unfortunately, it’s not always possible to know which was which until it was too late.

Chemical reactions causing glimmering or colorful water. Elves learn carefully when this has occurred due to natural phenomena and when it is the result of unnatural influence or Ainur presence.

Salt lakes and landlocked waters mimicking ocean conditions. I’ve always imagined there being a lake like lake Baikal in the March of Maedhros

More Bioluminescence

The realms draped in dragon reek especially around Nargothrond. The pools of Ivrin are ruined by Glaurung and they are the source of the river Narog, the largest tributary to Sirion. The entire land could be poisoned. I imagine that plants wither or lose color, birds and frogs stay silent, animals are thrown off of their natural cycles, The orchards in the hills barren or producing foul fruit, strange happenings resulting from drinking from the river Narog or even eating animals that drank from it…

Alternatively the effects of the water where the power of Ulmo is still strong such as in Nan Tathren or the Twilit Meres

#the silmarillion #beleriand #musing and meta #Valinor #Doriath #ered gorgoroth #I hope these are ok I’m very tired

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sadnymi · 9 months ago

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"My Dreams Are Just Dreams... Until They're Not" modern Mattheo riddle × reader [chapter six-the end]

[previous chapter] [Epilogue]

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, childhood trauma ,abusing, cheating, angst, death, sexual harassment ( not the main characters)

Please understand that this chapter will delve into darker themes. I urge you to pay close attention to the trigger warnings provided.

words: 3,462

Reading Time : 12mins 35sec

Summery: A week at my best friend's beach house, surrounded by our friends as we meet her soon-to-be fiancé's companions, marks a turning point where the very fabric of my beliefs begins to unravel. It's during this week that I encounter the boy who incessantly appears in my dreams, blurring the distinction between the world of my subconscious and the tangible reality before me. Matthe Riddle emerges as the poison I willingly imbibe, a curse that feels akin to a dream,

Time

[ˈtaɪm] noun

the ongoing journey of existence and the unfolding of events across the continuum of the past, present, and future, regarded as a whole.

"Time is a circle." A relentless cycle where every act, past and future, repeats endlessly, casting a melancholic shadow over

Startled awake, I jolted upright, my heart racing in panicked cadence. The hand on my shoulder triggered a surge of adrenaline, and I frantically scanned my surroundings through bleary eyes.

It was Sarah's voice that sliced through the haze of my disorientation, her words shattering the fragile veil of sleep that had momentarily shielded me from the harshness of reality.

"Y/N, we've arrived," she announced, her tone bearing a weight I couldn't yet comprehend, sending shivers down my spine as I grappled with the dawning realization

I gazed down at the crimson hoodie, my eyes tracing its familiar contours, then shifted my gaze toward the house. A sudden realization struck me as I observed Sarah's attire, sending waves of confusion and panic through my senses.

"Why—why no, what's happening?" The words stumbled out of my trembling lips, uncertainty echoing in the air.

"Y/N," Sarah attempted to reach for my hand, but my reaction was visceral—a frantic rejection.

"No, no, no." I hastily exited the car, grappling with the disorienting feeling that something was fundamentally wrong. "We have done that before so many times."

Sarah stood frozen before me, and in my desperation, I demanded answers, scanning my surroundings. "Where's Mattheo? What have you done?"

"Oh my gosh." Her tears flowed like rivers. "You remember."

“What?" My own tears, hot and stinging, blurred my vision.

"I missed you so much," she cried, launching herself at me. Her arms wrapped around me with a desperate intensity. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I love you so much. You did it."

"Sarah, I don't understand." I uttered through sobs, shaken within her arms. "I'm dead—I'm dead. It was me all along. I'm the goddamn ghost."

Then, the truth struck me again—I'm dead. The memories flooded back, the pain, the dagger in my heart, every haunting detail.

Freaking out, I staggered back a few steps. "I shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be here. I'm dead.

"Hey, it's okay, let me explain–"

"Where's Mattheo? What have you done?"

With my body trembling uncontrollably, my legs propelled me forward, a primal need to escape the crushing weight of reality.

Dead. I was dead , that much I knew. I was the ghost, not him. Those dreams weren't just dreams.

Tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision, yet the crimson of the hoodie remained sharp, a constant reminder of the life I'd so tragically lost. With a strangled sob, I turned and fled.

I ran, not knowing where, not caring. All I knew was the chilling truth – I was the ghost, not him. The dreams, the whispers – they weren't dreams. They were the remnants of a life brutally stolen, a love forever unfulfilled.

A primal scream tore from my throat as two powerful arms encircled me, lifting me from the ground. My legs flailed, a desperate attempt to escape the terrifying disassociation of my body.

"It's me, love," mattheo whispered, his voice warm against my ear. "It's okay. I've got you."

"What have you done?" I choked out, a strangled plea amidst my hysterics. "mattheo, what have you done?"

He ignored my question, holding me tighter, his touch a desperate anchor in the storm that raged within me. Finally, my frantic kicks subsided, replaced by a shuddering sob as I rested my head on his shoulder.

"matt," I rasped, the words thick with the metallic tang of fear. "I'm dead—-I'm dead, aren't I?"

He lowered me to the ground, his grip never faltering, turning me to face him. His eyes, usually so warm , blazed with an intensity that sent shivers down my non-existent spine.

"I told you, my love," he said, his voice a low growl. "I wouldn't allow it. I fixed it."

"But how?" I cried. "I died! It can't be undone!"

“ technically no you’re not died I mean not yet “

A cold dread coiled in my gut. "You… you played with time?"

The silence that followed was an answer in itself. I lurched back, fear morphing into a chilling realization. "The Council – that's forbidden!"

"Dead," he muttered, his voice devoid of emotion. "Every single one of them."

My breath hitched. "You… you killed them?"

"They knew," he said, his jaw clenched. "They knew what was coming. They agreed to it,Once you took control of your family's business, you would have uncovered the illegal activities they were doing with your stepfather. They didn't think it was worth the risk to wait and see your reaction, so they allowed it."

"And you killed them?" My voice was a broken whisper.

"Every. Single. One." His touch grazed my cheek, a feather-light caress that sent shivers through me. "A slow, agonizing death. They begged for mercy. Your name was the last word on their lips before I extinguished their pitiful existence,before I slit their throats "

"I brought them the war you were protecting them from."

“Then you stopped the time?"

"No, I did it after what happened with you in my arms. I didn't hesitate saying the words , then come time , And I manipulated it. I bent it to my will, I couldn't let you go. So I went back. I needed to go back further, to prevent your death entirely"

“ I don’t remember—-“

A flicker of pain crossed his face. "I know you don't remember. That's why we kept reliving this vacation. Going back in time wasn't enough. You had no memory , you needed to remember “ that’s why we were doing the whole vecation thing , going back in time wasn’t enough you remembered nothing “

“ The plan was to go back and kill him before it all happened. But then we realized…".

"It wouldn't be enough," he finished. "Your soul… it needed to recognize itself. Without your memories, your body would be a hollow shell."

He paused, his voice tinged with pain . "The first time you didn't remember anything. You panicked and we had to rewind Without your soul, your body would be a hollow shell. Alive, but empty. We brought you back, but the memories wouldn't stick,

Then came the dreams, fractured pieces of your past. and after that Sarah appeared, and your mind… it blocked it all out. We fabricated stories, some you believed. We triggered memories, hoping to jog your soul… Sarah, Lorenzo, even my Julie’s crush on me , or my tattoo —— even my touch, Sometimes, we thought we were making progress, only to have you panic, only to rewind again."

"Like the beach,when I saw him …"

"The worst," he confirmed, his voice cracking. "You freaked out and it was like losing you all over again."

A wave of nausea washed over me. "So… all this time? All these… vacations, resets… was it all a fabrication?"

"A necessary one," he said softly

“How long?" I choked out, fighting back a sob that threatened to shatter me.

"A year," he whispered, his voice thick with raw emotion.

"A year, Mattheo! No! You can't do this! You're destroying yourself. Please, you have to stop!"

He cupped my face in his hands, his eyes filled with a desperate, possessive light. "Never," he said fiercely. "Did you truly think I would let you go, my love?"

My heart ached with a love so fierce it threatened to consume me. "But this… this is too much. You can't keep manipulating time. What if I hadn't remembered? What if I was just… lost?"

"Then I would have kept searching," he said, his forehead resting against mine. "A year, a thousand years… for whatever it takes , I would rather be a haunting presence in your dreams than live in a world without you."

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry it took me that long to remember. I'm so sorry you had to endure all of that," I murmured, my voice weighted with guilt and regret.

"No, my love, you should never apologize," he replied softly, his eyes reflecting a mixture of pain and determination. "I promise you, I will dismantle this world, reduce it to ashes, and offer them to you for enduring all of that."

"You were so hurt that first night…"

“The first nights were always the hardest," he rasped, his voice thick with a pain that mirrored my own. "Seeing you look at me like a stranger…It fucking hurts “

The immensity of his love, the depth of his sacrifice, washed over me. In that moment, the world around us faded away. There was only him, only me, bound by a love that defied even the cruel hand of fate.

The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us, bound by a love that transcended even death itself.

Each footfall felt heavier than the last, the earth groaning under the weight of my spectral form. Yet, an unseen force propelled me forward, a celestial compass guiding me toward the man whose heart mirrored the rhythm of a dying star.

As I drew closer, the air crackled with a raw energy, a desperate yearning clinging to the very molecules around him. Closing my eyes, I felt the tremors of his heartbeat – a lone drum echoing in the vast emptiness that was my existence.

"Even in this spectral existence," I whispered, my voice a mere tremor in the wind, "my soul recognizes yours. Even with my memories a fading tapestry, my heart, though unmoored, remembers the language of your love. Even in death, I will wander the cosmos, etching your name on the moon's surface, whispering it to every twinkling star, a desperate plea to remember."

A tear, a teardrop of stardust, traced a shimmering path down my cheek. "If oblivion claims my consciousness, if even my own name fades from the echoes of eternity, one truth will remain: I will never forget you, my love. You will never be a stranger to me "

The words hung heavy in the air, a spectral lament laced with a love that defied even the cruel hand of fate.

"Aw man, hate to break this moment," I spun around swiftly at the sound of a voice behind us, only to meet the gaze of our friend, Blaise.

he mumbled, a hint of worry lacing his usual cheerful tone. "Tried my best to eavesdrop, but their voices were practically inaudible. Y/N though!" His smile turned genuine, “There you are! I missed you like crazy, you have no idea! We were all so worried sick. I even had this whole big speech planned for your return, but…" He gestured theatrically to the grim scene around us, his facade crumbling a little. " I would have said it tears and all but we're attached, right now “

"Attached?" I whispered, the word barely audible against the storm of emotions churning inside me.

"Those vengeful witches," he muttered, his voice laced with regret. "They're not exactly thrilled with our little time-hopping adventure, or, you know, accidentally wiping out half their coven."

Gods above," I breathed, the weight of the situation crashing down upon me. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

"Fear not, love," Matteo murmured, his hands seeking solace on my shoulders, a grounding anchor in the swirling vortex of emotions.

“I doubt that “blaise said

Blaise's comment hung heavy in the air, met by Matteo's silencing glare. Before Blaise could continue, Lorenzo materialized behind him, his voice a low rumble. "Enough, Zabini."

He ignored Blaise completely, pulling me into a warm embrace. "I missed you, smart girl l," he murmured. I squeezed him back, whispering a grateful "Thank you."

"We need to leave, Matt," Lorenzo said, his tone urgent. "This beast must be dealt with permanently."

Dread coiled in my stomach. I didn't need clarification on who "this beast" was.

"You kept him alive?" The question tumbled out before I could stop it.

A gentle smile touched mattheo's lips. "A life must be taken, my love. We can manipulate time, but not fate. And this fate won't be yours." He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. "Just one more step, darling. Just one."

Suddenly, Sarah was beside me, her arms wrapping tightly around me. "Y/N! Oh my god, are you alright?"

Stepping back for a moment, I offered a reassuring smile. But before I could respond, Penny enveloped me in a hug.

"We were terrified," Penny confessed, her voice thick with emotion. I hugged her back, finding solace in their familiar warmth.

" I promise I wasn’t trying to steal your man , you have no idea how embarrassing it was to bring my childhood crush into the table but anything for you my girl " Julie admitted sheepishly. Her words brought a laugh to my lips, and I embraced her too.

Pulling away, I offered a quick hug to Theodore, who remained stoic, then turned to Blaise. "We'll discuss your speech later," I promised, remembering my earlier agreement.

Blaise cleared his throat. "Alright, now about these lunatics old me. who want us dead..."

"Bring them on," Mattheo interrupted, a fierce glint in his eyes. " beat the dog before the lion."

Lorenzo chuckled. "English, brother, please."

"They'll have two options," Mattheo continued, "Submit to our authority or face the consequences."

"What about your father?" Theodore asked, his voice laced with suspicion. "Are you certain he’s in our side ?"

"Anyone foolish enough to trust my father is in for a rude awakening," Mattheo replied wryly. "He may indulge me as his heir, but his true allegiance lies with the victor. A change in leadership in the council wouldn't be unwelcome in his eyes, so we just have to become the damn victors."

A knot of confusion tightened in my stomach. "I'm afraid I don't quite understand," I confessed. "Are you planning to take control of the council?"

mattheo squeezed my hand reassuringly. . "We already have control, my love. Now, it's just a matter of making it official."

Blaise, ever impatient, declared, "Let's get moving then. We have a beast to slay."

I saw the flicker of concern in their eyes, their apprehension about me facing the creature again. I spoke quickly, determined. "I'm coming with you. I want to see it done."

Their faces mirrored a mix of worry and protectiveness. Finally, Mattheo spoke, his touch gentle as he stroked circles on my hand. "Are you absolutely certain, love?"

I met his gaze, unwavering. "Absolutely."

"Then nothing will stand in your way," he whispered, his voice filled with unwavering devotion.

The familiar curve of the coastal road leading to my beach house unfolded before me, a route etched into my memory despite the unsettling emptiness it now evoked. The flames that devoured the house seemed to have consumed the memories held within its walls as well. I couldn't help but wonder what life would have been like if fate hadn't intervened. A life where my father lived, a life where fear didn't dictate my mother's every move, a life where she didn't cling to the illusion of a man's protection.

Consuming fury burned hotter than the inferno that had reduced the house to ashes. Five figures in black suits materialized outside the charred remains, a stark contrast to the desolate landscape.

"Seeking an audience, gentlemen?" Mattheo addressed them, his voice laced with steely resolve.

"Mattheo ," one acknowledged with a curt nod. "Perhaps it's time to restore the balance."

A sardonic smile played on mattheo’s lips. "The balance seems perfectly settled at the moment, wouldn't you agree?"

"Listen, boy," the man continued, "you've caused significant damage. Our men are dead, our houses burned, and a forbidden spell - one with potentially apocalyptic consequences - has been unleashed. You've tampered with time itself. We understand your position as heir apparent demands respect and loyalty, but the same goes for the protectors of this legacy."

"Your concern for my 'achievements' is touching," mattheo retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm . "However, I'm afraid pressing matters require my immediate attention."

The men exchanged uneasy glances.

gestured towards the ravaged house mattheo said . "Join us, please."

Stepping inside the house was akin to revisiting a personal hell. This was the very place where I had bled out in my lover's arms, This was where I had endured constant torment, a battleground etched with the scars of physical and emotional abuse. The fire that consumed the structure wasn't a metaphor for my rage; it paled in comparison to the inferno burning within me.

Ten minutes from this moment, I had met my demise. Ten minutes from now, vengeance would be mine.

As soon as the men entered, Theo disappeared into a room and emerged moments later with the man who had ended my life cradled in his hands.

tossing him to the ground, his wide, terrified eyes locked on mine. Rage, a primal beast, clawed its way up my throat, threatening to consume me. But before I could surrender to its fury, a gentle hand encircled my neck, a soft kiss brushing my cheek.

"Perhaps our esteemed guests require no introduction to our...pet, wouldn't you agree, my love?" mattheo’s voice, resonated throughout the room.

Emboldened by his touch, I met Jason's gaze. "No introductions are necessary," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "I believe they're quite familiar with him. Jason Katz, the pathetic, conniving cur."

This is the first time I've uttered my monster's name aloud. He appears so diminutive, so feeble, as if he's always been this way, but I was too afraid to notice.

A cruel smile played on my lips as I stepped closer to the trembling wretch, mattheo’s hand a reassuring weight on mine. The once-powerful figure of Lord Leopold Celestia's murderer now resembled a cornered rat.

"Jason," I began, relishing the power in his flinch at my first word, "you stand accused of murdering my father, Lord Leopold Celestia. Do you deny it?"

His reply, a garbled mess choked back by fear, was barely audible. "Princess, please... it was an accident I never wanted to hurt yo—."

"Do. You. Deny. It?" I repeated, each word laced with ice.

A flicker of defiance sparked in his eyes, quickly extinguished by Theo's steely gaze. "No," he whimpered, the mask of bravado finally crumbling. "I... I wanted his title."

"And my mother, Seraphina Celestia?" I pressed further, the truth a bitter pill to swallow. "Did you not strangle her in her own home, a viper slithering into her good graces after taking her husband from her? Do you deny that act of depravity?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, a strangled sob escaping his lips. "No... I don't."

"And finally," I continued, my voice a mere whisper, "three minutes from this very moment, you murdered me. After a failed attempt at a vile assault, you unleashed forbidden magic and stabbed me in the back. Like a coward ,Do you deny these accusations?"

A broken whimper. "No, princess. I..."

Taking a shaky breath, I looked at mattheo . Understanding flickered in his eyes, and without a word he understood, like he always did

, he handed me a dagger, its cold gleam a stark contrast to the devastation surrounding us.

Kneeling before Jason, I met his gaze, no longer filled with fear . "I told you," I said softly, a ghost of a smile playing on my lips, "you would die either way."

My eyes drifted to mattheo, searching for the signal – the moment of my past demise, to send another soul of my place.

"Burn in hell," I whispered, and with a slow, deliberate movement, I slit his throat. Slowly, enjoying every second, A struggle, a spray of crimson, and then... silence. He was dead, the blood staining my hands a grim reminder of the past.

I rose to my feet, the terrified men standing before me and Theo, his hand a comforting weight on my shoulder.

"Now," mattheo said, his voice calm yet laced with an underlying threat, amusement dancing in his eyes as he toyed with a lock of my hair. "Kneel."

A smirk tugged at my lips as I watched the men comply, their arrogance replaced by abject fear.

This was a new beginning. A surge of power, a dangerous cocktail of emotions coursed through me. But above all, there was the sweet taste of vengeance and the comforting press of mattheo’s hand against mine. Alive, in his arms, surrounded by our friends , we faced whatever the future held, together. Be it death, or a world yet to be shaped, we were ready.

•Epilogue

Tag list

@abaker74

@hereticdance

#mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle masterlist #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle

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outergalaxiesoutergalaxies · 2 years ago

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Q and Q sharing gossip amongst themselves about Q and Q’s continued antics

#continuum flow #outer galaxies #the q continuum #star trek fan art #outer galaxies band #q continuum #cosplay #star trek #the continuum is a dance floor #star trek cosplay #star trek costumes #star trek q #star trek tng #qcard

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bracketsoffear · 8 months ago

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The Book of the War (Lawrence Miles et. al.) Synopsis: "The Great Houses: Immovable. Implacable. Unchanging. Old enough to pass themselves off as immortal, arrogant enough to claim ultimate authority over the Spiral Politic.

The Enemy: Not so much an army as a hostile new kind of history. So ambitious it can re-write worlds, so complex that even calling it by its name seems to underestimate it.

Faction Paradox: Renegades, ritualists, saboteurs and subterfugers, the criminal-cult to end all criminal-cults, happy to be caught in the crossfire and ready to take whatever's needed from the wreckage… assuming the other powers leave behind a universe that's habitable.

The War: A fifty-year-old dispute over the two most valuable territories in existence: "cause" and "effect."

Marking the first five decades of the conflict, THE BOOK OF THE WAR is an A to Z of a self-contained continuum and a complete guide to the Spiral Politic, from the beginning of recordable time to the fall of humanity. Part story, part history and part puzzle-box, this is a chronicle of protocol and paranoia in a War where the historians win as many battles as the soldiers and the greatest victory of all is to hold on to your own past."

Propaganda: A text which purports to be a constantly shifting and updating guide to The War, a conflict so overarching and complete that every other conflict is but a pale shadow thereof; the Time War. Of course, since it would shift retroactively with the changing timelines, there is no way to prove or disprove this claim. Notable entries include cities built from days stolen from shifting calendars, the secrets of removing yourself from history while still leaving yourself free to interfere, Grandfather Paradox, the location of the exact center of history, how to weaponize banality, and Parablox.

Oh, and there's something else in there. Something that seems to be talking to you.

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland/ Through the Looking Glass and what Alice found there (Lewis Caroll) "Both books have a similar structure and are spiral for the same reasons: little Victorian child Alice founds herself in a strange world with rules vastly different from hers (for example, there's no real geography and the scenery changes suddenly from one place to another very much like in a dream). The characters she crosses constantly defy her understanding of the world and applies logics she struggles to understand. Even though she ends up going with the flow most of the time she never ceases to question whether shes experiencing real life or a dream; sanity is brought up a few times, and there's also the popular quote "We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad", delivered by the grinning cat that appears and disappears like a slippery distortion. Lastly I may add that the TMA episode whose title references the book (Mag 177, Wonderland) is a spiral episode."

#spiral poll #the spiral #poll #the magnus archives #leitner tournament #The Book of the War #faction paradox #doctor who #Lawrence Miles #alice in wonderland #through the looking glass #Lewis Caroll

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mysticstronomy · 1 year ago

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CAN WE HARNESS THE ENERGY OF A BLACK HOLE??

Blog#339

Wednesday, October 11th, 2023

Welcome back,

A remarkable prediction of Einstein's theory of general relativity -- the theory that connects space, time and gravity -- is that rotating black holes have enormous amounts of energy available to be tapped.

For the last 50 years, scientists have tried to come up with methods to unleash this power.

Now, in a U.S. National Science Foundation-funded study published in Physical Review D, physicists Luca Comisso of Columbia University and Felipe Asenjo of the Universidad Adolfo Ibáñez in Chile have found a new way to extract energy from black holes by breaking and rejoining magnetic field lines near the event horizon, the point at which nothing, not even light, can escape a black hole's gravitational pull.

"Black holes are commonly surrounded by a hot 'soup' of plasma particles that carry a magnetic field," said Comisso. "Our theory shows that when magnetic field lines disconnect and reconnect in just the right way, they can accelerate plasma particles to negative energies, and large amounts of black hole energy can be extracted."

The U.S. National Science Foundation-funded research results could allow astronomers to better estimate the spin of black holes and possibly discover a source of energy for the needs of an advanced civilization, Comisso said.

Comisso and Asenjo built their theory on the premise that reconnecting magnetic fields accelerates plasma particles in two different directions. One plasma flow is pushed against the black hole's spin, while the other is propelled in the spin's direction and can escape the clutches of the black hole. That releases power if the plasma swallowed by the black hole has negative energy.

"It is like a person could lose weight by eating candy with negative calories," said Comisso, who explained that essentially a black hole loses energy by eating negative-energy particles. "This might sound weird," he said, "but it can happen in a region called the ergosphere, where the spacetime continuum rotates so fast that every object spins in the same direction as the black hole."

Inside the ergosphere, magnetic reconnection is so extreme that the plasma particles are accelerated to velocities approaching the speed of light.

While it may sound like the stuff of science fiction, mining energy from black holes could be the answer to our future power needs.

"Thousands or millions of years from now, humanity might be able to survive around a black hole without harnessing energy from stars," Comisso said. "It is essentially a technological problem. If we look at the physics, there is nothing that prevents it."

Added Vyacheslav Lukin, a program director in NSF's Division of Physics, "The ideas and concepts in this work are truly fascinating, as is the potential translation of these studies of black hole astrophysics into the practical realm."

Originally published on new.nsf.gov

COMING UP!!

(Saturday, October 14th, 2023)

"WHATS INSIDE THE MOON??"

#astronomy #outer space #alternate universe #astrophysics #universe #spacecraft #white universe #parallel universe #astrophotography #space #cosmology #cosmos #big bang comics #constellations

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librarycards · 37 minutes ago

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Jenny Odell: I sometimes feel that in an individualistic culture, people get freaked out by the idea of being tied down or responsible for anything. Thinking about a gift economy, they might say, “I want the gift part but not the accountability part.” Lately, I’ve been volunteering in this native plant restoration group, and one of the most surprising parts has been how enlivening it is to help keep something else alive (I’ve never had a garden before). Sometimes I truly can’t tell whether I’m giving or getting. What are some ways that you see participation in a gift economy changing the participant’s sense of herself and her place in a network? In other words, is participation itself part of the gift?

RK: Yes. Exactly. Participation is part of the gift, where giving and getting meld into one another. A garden teaches you that every day. Gifts and responsibilities are always coupled to each other.

Of course, you’re right that given our hyper-individualistic culture, many people are not eager to embrace responsibility. Its often confounded, I think with the notion of “obligation”. Obligation feels to me like an involuntary demand on our time and energy, imposed from outside without the assurance that you’ll benefit in return. I’m sometimes reluctant about that, too. But, responsibility is an invitation to respond to need, an opening to reciprocity in which the benefits flow both ways. The benefits of participation in a gift economy are not only flowing to the gift recipient but the giver as well. Working on your restoration project, or any other gift exchange strengthens your own sense of agency, doesn’t it? It awakens care and compassion, builds relationship and nurtures your own identity as a person of capacity, of having enough abundance in your life that you can share it. I think it contributes to a sense of purpose, which we know is good medicine. It reminds you that you matter, that you’re part of something. That’s a big reward.

I find that some of the times that I feel most fully alive are in experiences of shared physical work in community with others. Like an old-time husking bee or shared planting. We’ve lost so many of the opportunities for that and gift economies provide the opportunity to work in common, to satisfy the need for belonging. And when that work is on the land and the benefits flow into our neighborhood of many species, the benefits are multiplied beyond the boundaries of ourselves.

JO: There is a really beautiful analogy you draw between the economy of nature and the human gift economy. Asking what in the gift economy functions as the “sun”–the constantly replenishing source of energy–you speculate: “Maybe it is love.” Reading this, it occurred to me how love is in essence a surplus, the force that gets things going. Could you speak more to the emotional and practical role that things like love and gratitude play in a gift economy? And how do they change the way we see “resources”?

RK: The fundamental currency of a gift economy, is relationship, not money. I suppose it’s what some people call “social capital”, but I’m not fond of that term. Participation in a gift economy could create a whole continuum of relationships, from the warmth of being cared for or an expanded sense of justice to just plain neighborliness. This can create a sense of security because mutual reliance grows from gift exchange. There is a sense of satisfaction in being able to give, and a sense of kinship in being able to receive, when we share the mutual acknowledgment of human vulnerability. For me, that continuum of relationships includes the possibility of a currency of love and gratitude that motivates the gift exchange, which is the source of the flow, between people and between people and the earth as well.

Gift-giving is a way of saying “I see you.” I see what you need and I see what I have to share. My well-being is tied to yours and yours to mine. It develops a trust that when I am in need, there will be abundance shared with me. The giver and the recipient are honored at the same time. That seems a lot like love to me.

Robin Wall Kimmerer, interviewed by Jenny Odell, Gift Thinking. [emphasis added]

#this is a fantastic interview im so excited for RWK's new book #robin wall kimmerer #jenny odell #ecology #world healing #readings #mine #words

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eliotrosechild · 2 months ago

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The Space Between: Exploring the Infinite Potential of Being

In a world where time is a relentless force and identity feels tethered to our daily experiences, we are constantly seeking to understand who we are and what we are becoming. We exist in the spaces between moments, continuously evolving but never quite arriving at a final definition of self. This journey is not just about reaching an end but about understanding the limitless nature of being itself—an infinite loop of potential, growth, and awareness.

The Illusion of Time and Identity

One of the greatest illusions we face is the concept of time as a linear path. From an early age, we are taught to think of life as a sequence of events, neatly ordered into past, present, and future. We set goals, make plans, and measure progress based on this timeline, believing that we are moving toward some fixed point where we will finally “arrive.” But what if this is not the case? What if time is not a straight line but a fluid, expansive space that bends and loops in ways we cannot fully comprehend?

Our identities are similarly bound by this illusion. We define ourselves by the roles we play—parent, professional, artist, friend—and by the experiences we accumulate over time. Yet, if we step back, we begin to see that these identities are not as fixed as they seem. They are temporary constructs, shaped by external circumstances and internal shifts, constantly dissolving and reforming.

In this sense, we are more than the sum of our experiences. We are not bound by the past, nor are we solely the product of the future we imagine. Rather, we are always becoming—moving through a space of possibility that transcends time and identity.

The Space Between Thoughts

There is a quiet, often unnoticed space that exists between our thoughts. In meditation, it is said that true peace is found not in the constant flow of mental chatter but in the stillness that exists in the gaps between those thoughts. In these moments, we catch glimpses of something deeper—an awareness that goes beyond the mind, beyond the stories we tell ourselves about who we are and what our lives should be.

This space is where we experience our true essence, free from the limitations of time and identity. It is in this space that we come to understand that we are more than our minds, more than our bodies, and more than the moments we experience. We are the awareness that witnesses all of this, the consciousness that exists beyond the labels and narratives we cling to.

When we reside in this space, even for a fleeting moment, we realize that we are not defined by what has come before or what is yet to come. We are part of an infinite continuum, a vast expanse of potential where every moment holds the possibility of transformation. This awareness invites us to reconsider what it means to “be,” not as a static state but as an ongoing process of becoming.

Dissolving the Boundaries

In the physical world, we often perceive boundaries between things—between ourselves and others, between the past and the future, between thought and action. These boundaries give us a sense of order and structure, but they can also limit our understanding of who we are and what we are capable of.

What happens when these boundaries begin to dissolve? When we no longer see ourselves as separate from the world around us but as part of an interconnected whole? This shift in perception can be both liberating and disorienting. It forces us to confront the fluidity of existence and the idea that we are always in a state of flux.

As the boundaries between self and other, past and future, dissolve, we begin to see that all we can ever be is this—this moment, this awareness, this potential. There is no final destination, no fixed identity to cling to. Instead, we are constantly evolving, shifting, and expanding.

This understanding challenges the notion of permanence that we often seek in life. We long for stability, for certainty, for a sense of control over who we are and where we are going. But in reality, life is a process of continual becoming, and the sooner we embrace this fluidity, the more fully we can experience the richness of existence.

Embracing the Infinite

When we accept that we are always becoming, we open ourselves to the infinite potential of existence. We stop trying to fit ourselves into narrow definitions of who we think we should be and instead allow ourselves to explore the vastness of what we might become. This shift in perspective is not about giving up on goals or aspirations but about understanding that the journey is just as important—if not more important—than the destination.

In this space of becoming, we are free to imagine new possibilities for ourselves and our lives. We are no longer confined by the past or constrained by the future. Instead, we are present to the unfolding of our own potential, moment by moment.

This is where true freedom lies—not in the certainty of knowing who we are, but in the openness to discover who we might become. It is in this space of infinite potential that we find our deepest sense of self, not as a fixed entity but as an ever-evolving awareness that transcends time, identity, and circumstance.

Conclusion: All We Can Ever Be

As we move through life, we are constantly confronted with the question of who we are and what we are becoming. The answers to these questions are never fixed; they are always shifting, changing, and evolving. In recognizing this, we begin to see that the essence of who we are is not something we can grasp or hold onto. It is not something that can be defined by time or circumstance.

All we can ever be is this: a moment of awareness, a flicker of consciousness in the vast expanse of existence. We are the process of becoming, the space between thoughts, the potential that lies beyond identity and time. And in this realization, we find a deeper sense of peace, knowing that we are always enough, just as we are, and always becoming more than we can imagine.

#consciousness #mindfulness #self awareness #philosophy #identity #spiritual journey #infinite potential #timelessness #personal growth #existentialism #meditation #awareness #becoming

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sunshinescribes · 2 years ago

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So Be It - 3

Part 3 of Continuum

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Namor x Black Fem!Reader

Rating: MATURE (for mentioned cunnilingus)

There is something bittersweet about being caught in a lie.

There’s the sensation of a tremendous weight being lifted from hunched shoulders. The sigh of relief from no longer having to constantly hold your breath.

Then comes the creeping dread that suffocates. The realization that your sins lay bare for anyone to see—to judge—so that they may weigh your new worth.

You could feel that dread making its home in your heart. You kept your eyes downcast; they were fixed on the glass floor of the throne room. Your eyes caught your miserable reflection, and it did little to ease the rapid beat of your heart. You couldn’t force yourself to look up at M’Baku as he stood silently before the throne.

"Tell me I’m wrong," M’Baku finally spoke after what felt like an eternity of silence. "Tell me I didn’t hear what I think I did."

His voice was nearly a whisper, but you could make out the hint of a plea. He wanted to be wrong; he wanted to believe that fatigue and stress were slowly beginning to steal his sense.

You could give him that—the lie he so desperately craved. You could spin a beautiful tale about how you had been nothing but cordial and that Namor’s interest lay only in the information you had to offer—but you just didn’t have it in you. You had been caught, and you would not dishonor yourself further by sinking deeper into falsehoods.

"You are not wrong."

M’Baku sighed deeply. You could feel his disappointment wash over you in waves, but you held firm, even as your heart continued to leap in your chest.

He turned to face you, but you still could not meet his gaze. You could hardly handle the dread in his voice, the soft-spoken disbelief. You doubted you would survive seeing it mirrored in his eyes.

"How long?"

Your mind flashed back to the first time—the soothing ebb and flow of the Wakandan beach. The distant glow of the pale full moon that hung overhead was the only witness to the sin you were committing. You were laid out in the sand, chest bare and panties discarded, as Namor tasted you for the first time with the desperate enthusiasm of a ravenous man.

You had been foolish enough to believe that would be the only time.

"Several months." You pulled at the sleeve of your dress, attempting to bring yourself back into this moment. To the king who stood before you, demanding your verity. "Nearly a year."

M’Baku cursed in Xhosa. You stood still under the scrutiny of his gaze, even as your heart continued to race, desperately seeking refuge.

Despite it, you continued to find your voice.

"I know I have disappointed you. Shamed myself, and for that I accept any punishment you deem appropriate, but know that I love Wakanda. I would lay down my life a thousand times over for my homeland." Your eyes began to sting as the confession poured out of you.

You needed him to hear you. He could dismiss you, question your loyalty—but not your love. Never your love.

You looked up finally, meeting his brown eyes that watched you analytically, but you did not falter under the scrutiny of his gaze. His ruling would be final, and you swore to Bast to take it with grace, but you would not go without speaking your heart.

"I know you do. I know," M’Baku sighed, "but what of him?"

You swallowed; the question was laid out plainly.

And do you love him as much as you love Wakanda?

Do you love him more?

Your answer would seal your fate. Your actions had planted the seeds of doubt in your king, but this would be the killing blow. The final confession.

Wakanda came first, always. The love you had for Wakanda was meant to be absolute, and you imagined that to M’Baku it was not a love that could be shared.

Once you had believed so too.

"My heart calls to him." Your voice was steady, and a sudden ease washed over you—as if another weight had finally been lifted.

You have spent so long trying to find every reason not to love Namor. You could no longer deny your heart, nor did you want to. If you were to lay your soul bare—the exhibition of your soul—then you would speak your truth at last. You would find no benefit in hiding. Not anymore.

"And loving him doesn’t mean I excuse his actions…of the pain that he once caused, but I can choose to forgive. I have chosen to forgive him, just as he chooses to make amends."

Namor wasn’t perfect, and you could not stand before your king and try to pretend that he was, but you knew the circumstances that had occurred a year prior were complicated, just as everything always seemed to be.

Your brethren may never know it, but regret lingered in Namor’s heart. A desire that things could have been different in the moments before he sieged war on your homeland, but he had done what he felt was necessary—retribution, and a means of protecting his home from the only people capable of destroying it.

You knew better than anyone that Wakanda would have done the same, and under the rule of a king before T’Challa, Wakanda would have done worse.

M’Baku stared at you wordlessly before his eyes drifted towards the floor, and he let out another tired sigh. He hesitated, as if battling with himself, before he finally lifted his gaze back towards you.

"I want you to know that you gave me more than council…to me, you are a friend. Even before the Jabari tribe was welcome again in the Golden City, you came to us," he chuckled lightly as the memory came back to him. You, with frost caught in your eyelashes, wrapped in a cloak that was not meant for the mountains. What a sight you had been then, a young peacemaker compelled by nothing but your heart.

M'Baku’s eyes softened as he continued, "I thought you were very foolish for seeking us out, but then you spoke your intentions. Of how you wished for the Jabari tribe to sit on the council once more…. that it would forever be fractured with just a single tribe missing."

"We are stronger together than we are apart," you said, recalling the words you had told your king years before.

Your attempt yielded little results besides M’Baku’s hospitality, but perhaps what you said back then resonated with him—maybe even more so now that he ruled Wakanda in Shuri’s stead.

"I now see that that is your nature. Peacemaker, but there are times when it won’t be possible to bridge such gaps. Maybe even a time when this alliance fails, and we are at war with Talokan again." The softness that the memory had brought was now gone, replaced with cold reality. "What will you choose then?"

You weren’t sure if M’Baku expected an answer from you, and you were even less certain if you could give him one.

"Do you think your love for this god-king will stop him from washing Wakanda off the face of the earth if given the chance? That this has not been a ploy to benefit him?"

You blinked at M’Baku, brows furrowing as you considered his questions. Valid concerns, every single one of them, but M’Baku had not seen the look in Namor’s eyes as he asked you to be his. That rare vulnerability—the tenderness and love you once didn’t believe he possessed. If he believed Wakanda to be his ally, he would defend her just as fiercely as his homeland—just as Wakanda promised to defend Namor’s waters. The CIA and UN had proven that both nations were in danger. Both alone.

"He is many things my king, but not unjust."

"Time will tell."

You could hear the uncertainty in his voice, and although you wished you could make him see Namor as you did, you knew it was impossible. The events of the previous year had solidified his opinion, and all that he did now was in service of protecting Wakanda from eternal war.

"I am willing to set this aside. To make it as if it never happened." M’Baku turned towards the windows, taking in the warm rays of the blinding sun—how it cast the Golden City in a hazy glow.

He sighed, long and heavy, "but you must end this…relationship. It can go on no longer."

M’Baku finally turned, his dark eyes cool and indifferent. He tipped his head in a silent dismissal.

You nodded, feeling tears sting in your eyes. You wanted to say something—anything—but no words could verbalize the turmoil that twisted inside of you.

You turned, making your way of the throne room and down the winding halls of the palace. You didn’t allow yourself the comfort of tears until you finally made your way back home.

Nights were always serene in Wakanda. The sky littered with twinkling stars, the comforting midnight breeze seemed to put everything at ease as the insects sang to the lonely moon—if there was ever a moment when the worries of your life slipped away, it was in moments like these, yet you found no such comfort tonight.

You cried the moment you returned home, barely making it through the door before you slid to the floor. M’Baku had been generous, his kindness only matched by your king before him. You still had your home. Your life in Wakanda—but Namor’s offer also lingered. The offer of his hand, his love.

Both had offered you the same ultimatum, and still your heart warred with itself.

Your home, or your heart. Which one are you willing to sacrifice?

You wrapped yourself in your favorite mudcloth shawl before you made your way to the shore. Your steps were slow, tentative. You could feel your heart beating in your chest, hear it in your ears as your feet nearly touched the rippling waves.

You stood there for only a moment when you saw Namor emerge, his dark hair sticking to his forehead as water rippled down his body. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing back wet strands, and you could see the hint of a smile on his lips as his eyes fell on you.

It fell quickly as he took in the puffiness of your eyes, the tremble of your lip.

He stopped short, concern clear in his expression as his eyes searched your face.

"I can’t," you whispered.

The words were simple, and yet they seemed to hit Namor like a punch. His brows furrowed slightly, a mix of frustration and anguish swimming in his dark eyes.

"Why?" His voice was low, almost impossible to hear with the crash of a sudden wave.

"I can’t live a fantasy," you scoffed, trying to keep yourself from crying. Your vision blurred despite yourself. "My life is here. My real life, and I can’t throw it all away. You can’t ask that of me."

Namor blinked. You caught a flicker of pain in his expression, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

"I asked you to be mine. To share a life with me," he countered, "If being in Wakanda makes you happy I would never deny you of that. But as you said, it would not be my choice.”

His eyes lifted from you toward the distant Golden City. His lips twisted into a frown as he took it in, as if he were staring at an adversary.

“It is not me who is asking you to throw everything away,” he murmured as his wistful gaze turned back to you.

Namor’s words chipped away at your defenses, and it took everything in you not to scream that you knew. Bast, you knew he wasn’t in the wrong…not here, but you needed him to be. It was the only way to keep yourself from rushing into his arms and begging him to whisk you away to Talokan.

It was easier to make him the villain than to do the scary thing and follow your heart.

"You told me I had to make a choice.”

Namor held your gaze, searching for the truth that you refused to speak. You lifted your chin and tried to make your expression as impassive as you could manage.

Namor nodded, his expression grim, "and so you have."

Namor turned, not gracing you with a farewell or a chance to respond as he returned to the dark waves that stirred with new fervor as if compelled by his emotions.

You continued to watch the waves as tears rolled down your cheek and your heart ached painfully in your chest.

You had done the right thing—stood by your homeland, refused to be selfish—and yet you had never felt worse in your entire life.

NOTE: This was supposed to be a three-part series but I was having trouble writing a satisfying conclusion, so this has turned into a four part series. Next chapter should be the last one, but I'm as much of a victim to my whims as y'all are. Also, some folks on AO3 asked for a chapter exploring how this all started, so that is also in the works! It will be posted after the final chapter (I've already started writing it!)

TAGLIST (adding people who explicitly ask to be tagged): @daddyslittlevillain

#namor x black reader #namor x reader #namor x you #namor x y/n #namor x fem!reader #kukulkan x reader #kukulkan x you #black!fem!reader #namor fanfiction #namor imagine

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