#corona delta

[nobeerreviews]

Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.

-- Vicki Corona

(the Danube Delta, Romania)

[quiltofstars]

The constellation of Corona Borealis // Malcolm Park

Corona Borealis, or the "northern crown", is generally assumed to represent a crown given by the god Dionysus to Ariadne, the daughter of Minos of Crete, after she had been abandoned by the Athenian prince Theseus. She wore this crown at her wedding to Dionysus.

Read below the cut for some info about these stars and a chart to help identify them!

The stars featured, in order of brightness, are:

Alphecca (α Coronae Borealis) is named from the Arabic phrase nayyir al-fakka meaning "the bright [star] of the broken [ring of stars]". It is a binary star system, one star being a blue-white star and the other being a white star. It is about 75 light years away.

Nusakan (β Coronae Borealis) has a name that comes from the Arabic al-nasaqān meaning "the two lines [of stars]". This is another binary star system composed of two white stars. It is about 112 light years away.

γ Coronae Borealis is a binary star system composed of two blue-white stars. It is about 146 light years away.

�� Coronae Borealis is yet another binary star system of two blue-white stars. This is much further away at 380 light years.

ε Coronae Borealis is a binary star system of two red giant stars. It has a planet orbiting it, about 7 times more massive than Jupiter. The system is about 242 light years away.

δ Coronae Borealis is a solitary yellow-white giant star. It is also a variable star that changes brightness every 45 days. It is about 165 light years away.

ι Coronae Borealis is a binary star system of two white giant stars. The system is about 312 light years away.

[brosis-medical]

Corona-Experte zu RKI-Zahlen - Statt Sommer-Grippe jetzt „Sommer-Covid“: Was steigende Infektionszahlen bedeuten

Fußball-EM und Corona-Sommerwelle Die Fußball-EM zieht Fans aus ganz Europa an. Gefeiert wird ohne Abstand und ohne Maske, denn die Pandemie ist vorbei. Doch die Coronazahlen steigen derzeit wieder. Epidemiologe Timo Ulrichs erklärt, ob eine Sommerwelle droht. Die Fußball-Europameisterschaft ist in vollem Gange. Menschen aus ganz Europa füllen deutsche Stadien und Fanmeilen. Über Corona macht…

[vitatek-solutions]

Commonly used to lower the pH of sparge water, adjust the

pH of wort and for acidifying beverages.

[absurdthirst]

Fireworks {Frankie Morales x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: Dirty talk, premature ejaculation, oral sex (male and female receiving), cum eating, riding, breast play, mentions of IUD, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of breeding kink, family planning

Comments: Seeing Frankie Morales again at the cookout thrown by your sister and her husband, you discover that you the crush you have on the Delta Force operators isn't as one sided as you previous thought.

🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸HAPPY 4th of JULY!!!!!! 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Frankie Morales MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Ohhhhhhh say can you seeeeeeeeeee!” Loudly and off-key, Ben Miller shouts/sings the national anthem for only the hundredth time because it’s the only day he can get away with it. Fourth of July, the nation’s birthday and it either invokes ad nauseam tales of valor or over exuberant patriotism. In Benny, and the other members of Delta Force’s A Squadron, it’s both. A day to get rip roaring drunk, party like they might not live to see the next day and generally raise hell. “Give it a rest, Benny!” Frankie shouts over the music that is blaring through the outdoor speakers that Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia had set up in his little backyard oasis. “You sound like a cow giving birth!” He adds, laughing and taking another sip of his beer when the youngest of the Miller brothers shoots him double fingers.

Santi chuckles, “Maria’s sister will be arriving soon so you better be on your best behavior.” He warns and Frankie sits up a little. Ever since Pope introduced Frankie to you, he’s always had a crush. It’s ridiculous but he didn’t really get to make a move when you were busy being the maid of honor and he was the best man. So many people joked with him about getting you in his bed the next of the wedding but Frankie was a gentleman. What he doesn’t know is that you have a crush on him. Ever since you first set eyes on Frankie, you have been like a schoolgirl with a crush and it’s so bad your sister has teased you mercilessly. Your sister answers the door after you arrive with homemade cherry pie and apple pie in hand and she ushers you in. “Frankie is here.” She smirks and you roll your eyes, “it’s been like 2 years. He doesn’t like me like that.” You warn Maria who scoffs and sets the pies down. “Santi thinks he does.” You snort, “Santi just wanted his best friend to be his brother in law.” You raise your eyebrows and she huffs before guiding you outside to see the guys.

As soon as your name is said, Frankie’s head pops up, almost embarrassingly fast. Santiago catches it, but that’s because the bastard was watching him in anticipation. His eyes widen when he sees the flirty little sundress you are wearing, cock twitching in his shorts. Thankful he wasn’t just wearing swimming trunks like Benny was.

You greet each man, Tom over on the grill flipping burgers, until your eyes meet Frankie’s and your heart stutters. God, he’s so fucking handsome. “Hi Frankie.” You smile, trying to not show how flustered you are by the matching grins of your sister and brother in law make it clear that you’re not acting as cool as you want to. “Beer?” Santi offers and you nod, “Frankie, why don’t you get her a beer?” He asks his best friend, eyebrows raised slightly.

He knows what Pope is trying to do and he appreciates it while hating it at the same time. You’ve shown no interest in him, so why is he trying to push the two of you together? You seem nervous around him. “Come on, we’ll get you a good beer.” He promises, holding up his Corona with a lime wedged in the neck. “Not that Miller Lite shit the others are drinking.” Benny scoffs because the last beer Frankie had drank was a Miller and he had just switched to the Corona.

You chuckle and follow him into the kitchen where the beers are in ice to avoid the hot summer heat. You set down the pies you made and Frankie groans, “is that cherry pie?” He asks and you nod, “yeah. My grandma’s recipe.” You tell him and he leans down to smell it. “Fuck, that smells delicious.” His words make your stomach twist with arousal, imagining him between your thighs saying the exact same thing. He grabs a corona and opens it with ease, grabbing a slice of lime to shove in the top. “Thanks. Happy 4th. Thank you for your service.” You toast him with a soft smile, clinking your glass bottle with his after he grabs his drink.

He doesn’t really like when people just thank him for his service, but he feels proud when you say it. Maybe because you are more aware of what he does because of your sister. “It’s hard flying a helicopter and having women throw their panties at me because they don’t know the difference between rotary and fixed wing.” He jokes.

You giggle, hating how girlish you sound but that’s what he does to you. When he was Santi’s best man, you dreamed about him sweeping you off your feet on the wedding night, keeping to the tradition of the maid of honor and best man but he was a gentleman and that, you can’t deny, made you pout in disappointment. “I’m sure you struggle every day.” You mock jokingly before you try to push the lime into the beer but it’s too big.

He shrugs, not willing to comment on that because it would be disrespectful. “Haven’t found a keeper yet.” He admits, knowing the woman he really wants is completely out of his league. You are gorgeous, smart, funny, and responsible. No way you would fall for a trigger puller like him. “What about you? I was surprised when Maria said you were coming alone. Thought you were seeing someone, that it was serious.”

You frown, “seeing someone? I’ve been painfully single for way too long.” You snort and finally manage to push the lime into the beer. Frankie frowns, “I thought - your cousin Danielle told me you had a boyfriend and he was away on business during the wedding events?” Frankie tilts his head and it’s your turn to frown, “boyfriend? I - no. Why would - oh. I know why. She has a crush on you. Told us allll the time about how cute you are but why would she say I had a boyfriend?” You don’t put two and two together, annoyed at your cousin for lying about you.

Frankie rolls his eyes and sighs, putting two and two together. “I fucking know.” He growls. “Pope was busting my ass about making a move on you at the reception.” Frankie confesses, “she must have overheard the night of the cookout.” He remembers her being annoying and constantly ‘checking on them’ while the guys were outside. The bridal shower had been a family co-ed event for everyone. “She told me later that day.”

“Told you what?” You ask, stomach twisting that Pope was telling him to make a move. You wonder if he wants you like you want him or if he is being polite and he actually told Pope he wasn’t interested in you. “Told me that you had a boyfriend and she - she was interested in me.” You deflate at that, wondering if he hooked up with your cousin and that’s why he hasn’t made a move. You take a sip of your beer, “well, she’s beautiful.” You murmur, glancing down at your pies on the counter.

“But she’s annoying as shit.” Frankie snorts. “No offense.” He adds because she is your cousin. He takes a sip of his beer. “I told her that I wasn’t interested, because I’m not.” Frankie doesn’t like to play around with that shit, because he knows how stressful his job is in a relationship and he doesn’t toy with the women he dates.

You nod, chuckling, “yeah. She’s annoying as shit. I love her but all she wants is to get married and have a kid. I don’t even think she cares who the guy is. Insert man here.” You gesture and take another sip of your beer, “I wondered why she hasn’t been around since.” You hum, “so…have you been seeing anyone?” You ask, curious and mentally preparing yourself for heartbreak because you don’t want to keep fantasizing about him when he could be taken.

Frankie lifts a brow, very interested in the way the conversation has come back to him. “Nope.” He answers truthfully. “Haven’t really felt like it.” He’s had a couple of one night stands, but no one that he’s wanted anything more with. “But I can’t believe you are single.” He admits. “Guys where you live must be blind idiots.”

You chuckle, shaking your head, “I guess I don’t put myself out there enough. Maria is always telling me to get out in bars and meet someone but it’s not my scene anymore. Did that in college and now? I just want to find my person and settle down, spend nights watching movies with take out and make out on the sofa.” You confess with a giggle before you inhale deeply, deciding to take a leap. “I met someone but I don’t know if he likes me too. It’s hard to read him when he’s hiding behind a cap.” You confess, looking up at the hat on his head.

The Standard Heating Oil hat is a constant when he’s not in uniform, a family business that he had no interest in joining when he joined the Army. He reaches for it now and shuffles it back and scratches his longer than regulation hair and settles it back down. “Hat’s just an accessory.” He flashes you a grin and shuffles a little closer. “I bet the man you’re talking about has always thought you were amazing and wanted to take you out.” He hums.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you look at him with surprise in your eyes and a smile on your face. “Well, I’d love to go out. Anytime, Morales. Just name the time and place.” You command and he nods, his hand finding your waist. “Could’ve been dancing during the wedding reception if I knew you didn’t have a boyfriend.” Frankie sighs and you take a chance to reach up and cup his cheek, “better late than never.” You murmur, stroking his stubbled cheek with your thumb.

Frankie’s eyes dip down to your lips and he licks his own without even realizing he’s doing it. Leaning in slightly to kiss you, your lips barely touch when the door opens. “Food’s ready!” Benny shouts out and grins when he sees Frankie. “Go Cat!” He slams the door and turns back to the group out in the yard. “Maria! Frankie’s kissing your sister!”

You chuckle against Frankie’s chin. The kiss is short and sweet, your heart pounding from the brief touch, but the moment has passed so you slide your hand down to Frankie’s neck. “Let’s get some food, Catfish.” You declare and he nods, knowing that he will need to kiss you properly another time where you won’t be interrupted. You make your way outside and everyone is smirking, making you roll your eyes. “Shut up.” You say to your sister and she holds her hand up, “I didn’t say a word.” You snort, “you don’t need to.” She’s been your sounding board for your previously unrequited crush on Frankie.

Frankie moves over to Benny, slapping his back harshly and squeezing the other man’s trap. “Thanks, asshole.” He hisses, even though he’s not too mad. The two of you are on the same page at least and his heart thumps when he looks over at you talking to your sister, even as his cock twitches. “Guest bedroom has fresh sheets.” Pope offers with a shit eating grin. “She’s staying there anyway, but I’m sure you wouldn’t mind christening the bed.”

You grab a hot dog and sit with your sister, talking about your extended family, and you tell her about Danielle and what she said to Frankie. “God, she’s - she’s too much. You mean to tell me she stopped you getting laid on my wedding night?” Maria scoffs, “well, you get the last laugh. The sheets are clean in the guest bed if you wanna have the best man stay tonight?” She smirks and you fluster, “I mean…I wouldn’t say no if he asked.” You confess, “he’s - God, I can really see a life with him. Is that too much?” You ask your sister who looks over at her husband and smiles when he winks at her from across the yard. “Nope. I know exactly what you mean.”

Benny and Pope are giving him hell, ribbing him relentlessly while Will and Tom laugh and egg them on. “Yeah, yeah.” Frankie rolls his eyes, but he’s laughing right along with them after relaying the entire story and feeling extremely confident now. “It’s better that we found out now.” He adds and they are encouraging him to go for it now. “Let her finish her hot dog.” Pope suggest. “Yeah, no deep throating Kong over here until thirty minutes after you’ve eaten.” Benny snorts, having seen Frankie naked more times than he could count. Frankie shoots him a bird.

You see the boys joking around and Maria playfully rolls her eyes. “Boys.” She scoffs and you chuckle, helping her with the plates once everyone is done eating. When you’re back in the kitchen, you look up as Frankie comes in to grab another beer. “Tom is a good griller.” You compliment his captain and Frankie nods, “he is. Always has been. Even when we were out in the middle of the desert, the asshole could grill up something on a fire.” He chuckles and you giggle, “I think later I should really thank you for your service. Show you my…appreciation for your sacrifice for our great nation.” You reach out to trail your nail down his chest, scratching his chest slightly.

“Mierda.” Frankie hisses, cock twitching again. Your boldness is sexy and he loves how you go after what you want. “I didn’t really want to watch fireworks anyway.” He admits with a smirk. “Overrated.”

You grin, loving that he is enthusiastic and not rejecting you. “I said later. I want to see some fireworks first in the sky and after, I want to see them when you make me cum on your tongue.” You declare boldly, leaning in to kiss his neck.

He groans, smirking even wider when you pull back to grin at him. “I see the rumors of my talents have been justifiably spread.” He jokes, sending you a wink. “You’ll see fireworks and then you’ll see stars.”

You giggle and step back when Tom walks into the kitchen to grab another beer. He playfully rolls his eyes at your proximity to Frankie, “can you two at least wait until after the fireworks? I bought like three packs. Benny is banned from letting off fireworks.” He reminds Fish who nods and reaches for your hand to squeeze it. You snort and ask “why?” and Frankie sighs, “well, Benny is great with a M4A1 but nearly burns his dick off with fireworks.” You nod in understanding and Tom takes a gulp of his beer, “you gonna come outside and help set up?” Tom asks and Frankie nods, squeezing your hand before he heads off to help Tom. You are anxious for later, knowing this would seem fast to most but you’ve wanted Frankie for nearly 3 years.

“Man, are you sure about this?” Tom asks seriously as the two of them walk outside. “This is Maria’s sister, if shit doesn’t work out….” He trails off, looking over at where Pope and his wife are sitting in one of the loungers, making out. “Yeah I know.” Frankie has thought about that a few times. His best friend would be honor bound to break his kneecaps. “But I think she’s worth it.”

You clean up some dishes, setting them aside to dry while the boys set up the fireworks. You head outside to find Frankie and Tom stepping back from the set up in the back of the yard and you see Pope sitting on the lounger with your sister between his legs, his hands caressing her thighs. “Get a room!” You yell at them playfully and your sister shouts back, “I have one upstairs.” You chuckle and walk over to Benny, “you think this is a good decision? Me and Frankie? I feel…I really like him but I don’t want him to break my heart.”

Benny snorts, nearly choking on his beer. “Fish?” He asks, pointing over to Frankie. “The man has it bad for you. Thinks moon beams shoot out of your ass and shit.” He jokes, trying to reassure you at the same time. “He’s pined for you. One of the reasons he hasn’t really dated. Said that he had already found the woman for him, but she was taken.”

You cover your smile with your beer, pleased that his friend said that. “We wasted time because my cousin lied but I don’t want to waste another second. I really like him and I - I want to see where it goes.” You confess just as Frankie comes over. His arm wraps around your waist to pull you against him and you smile, leaning into his side while Tom sets the fireworks off.

Frankie likes your weight against him as you both look up into the sky. “Enjoy the show.” He murmurs in your ear. “It’s just the first one of the night.”

You grin and nod, looking up at the sky as the fireworks begin. It’s gorgeous and your eyes widen at the display. “Wow.” You gasp and tilt your head, resting it on his shoulder to look up at the sky in awe.

The moment is completely perfect as he watches the fireworks as they burst overhead. Neighbors around the house also start shooting bursting bombs of color and light into the air, making the entire neighborhood light up. The display will go on for hours. “Happy Fourth of July.” Frankie hums.

You hum, lifting your head to look at him and he turns to look at you. His eyes flick down to your lips and you lean in at the same time he does. His nose nudges yours for a second, giving you a chance to back away, but when you don’t, his lips press against yours. You tilt your head to deepen the kiss as the fireworks explode over your head.

Frankie tightens his hold on you, drawing you closer while your tongue slides against his and makes him moan. He likes a woman who’s willing to initiate. His hands sliding up and down your back before he palms your ass possessively.

You whimper into his mouth, your hands sliding up to grip his neck and his hat is pushed back on his head as he kisses you thoroughly, squeezing your ass until you feel him starting to harden against your hip. The group notices and starts to cheer, making you fluster as you pull back from Frankie’s mouth.

“Get a room.” Santi snorts, grinning at Frankie before he waggles his brows at you. Tom chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Just don’t run off to get married.” He warns playfully. Frankie huffs and shakes his head. “You all suck.” He teases. “We are going to go upstairs now.”

You ignore the way everyone smirks as Frankie takes your hand and guides you through the yard into the house where you switch to guide him up the stairs. It’s a house Frankie knows well. He worked on it with Santi after he bought it, helping to update it. You giggle as you make your way upstairs and squeal when Frankie smacks your ass through your sundress. You find the door to the guest room and open it, pulling Frankie in behind you before you shut the door.

“So now we are alone.” Frankie smirks as he pushes the lock on the door knob and looks over at you. “And we aren’t nearly as drunk as we would have been at the wedding reception.” He adds. “That dress was killer though.”

“Thanks. I told my sister I’d only be maid of honor if I got to pick my dress.” You tease and make your way over to the foot of the bed after you kick off your sandals. “You looked so handsome in that suit. Wanted to rip it off of you but shit…Danielle ruined our good intentions.” You chuckle and take a step closer to him, “but we are here now and I want you, Frankie. I want you to touch me.” You plead, sliding your hands along his chest.

“Shorts and a t-shirt are just as good as a suit?” He asks jokingly as he pulls you closer again. “Although I like this dress too.” He slides one hand down to dip under the fabric. “Easy access.”

You smile when he caresses the back of your thigh and you lean in to kiss his clavicle on display above his t-shirt. “Shorts and t-shirt. Suit. Whatever you’re wearing, you are sexy, Morales. No two ways about it.” You murmur as you kiss along his collarbone.

“You’re sexy.” He finds the zipper to the sundress and drags it down. Eager to feel you under his hands. “Wanted to bend you over the wedding party table and fuck you right there.”

You let him pull the zipper down and you lower your arms so he can push the thin straps from your shoulders, letting the dress drop to the floor. “God, imagine that. Fucking me instead of making your best man speech.” You joke and you’re glad your dress didn’t require a bra.

“Woulda been great.” He moans when he peels the dress off you and sees your tits. “Fuck.” He hisses. “They are fucking pretty.” He compliments. “I want to suck on them when you ride my cock.”

“We can do that, baby. I just - shit - I just need you to touch me.” You plead, having spent so many nights imagining him touching you, inside of you, it’s almost unbearable to wait another second and when his hands squeeze your tits, you sigh in relief. “Yes. Please Frank.” You beg, your hand finding his hat so you can toss it onto the dresser.

“You are so goddamn pretty.” He murmurs softly, cupping your tits and pinching your nipples. “Do you want me to fuck you? Or eat you out first.”

The fact that he’s asking you what you want has your pussy clenching around nothing and you are impatient. You want him inside of you. “Fuck me first.” You demand, reaching for the hem of his shirt, “I want to see all of you.” You whine, pulling his shirt over his head when he lets go of your tits.

He is smirking at your impatience and eagerness, letting you reach for the button of his shorts. “Strip me down, baby.” He encourages. “I want you to touch me too. Imagined how good you would feel. How fucking perfect.” He groans. “You don’t know how often I thought about you while I was jerking my cock.”

You unbutton his shorts and push them down along with his briefs and he kicks them off while your eyes widen at the sight of his thick cock. “Probably as much as I touched myself thinking about you but fuck, I never imagined you’d be so…big.” You confess, reaching out to wrap your fingers around him.

He groans at your touch, rocking his hips forward and twitching when you squeeze him. “Don’t think I’ll fit?” He asks playfully. “I think I’ll fit, but I know you’ll be the tightest little pussy I’ve ever fucked.”

You never knew he was such a dirty talker but you fucking love it. You moan and squeeze him again, guiding him by his cock back towards the bed and you let go of him as you fall down onto the bed and he follows you. He grabs your waist and lifts you up higher until you’re settled on the pillows. “Hi.” You murmur with a smile as he kneels between your spread legs.

“Hi.” He slides his hands up and down your thighs before he wraps a hand around his cock and starts to pump it. “You look so fucking pretty spread out for me, baby.” He leans down and presses his lips to yours while he settles into the v of your hips and lines up to sink into you inch by inch.

You cup his cheeks and lift your legs higher as he pushes into you, stretching you out. It’s a pinch without foreplay but you love how he’s stretching you out. “Oh God.” You gasp against his lips and he leans back, stopping. “You good, hermosa?” He asks and you nod, “yeah. Just overwhelmed. I never - didn’t think this would actually happen.” You confess softly, caressing his cheeks.

He nudges his nose against yours and kisses you softly. “I didn’t either.” He admits. “But it is happening and you are taking me so well. You feel so fucking good around my cock.” He is still inside you, praising you and loving how you clench down around him.

He pushes the rest of the way into you until his cock is nudging your cervix and you inhale deeply, closing your eyes at the way he feels inside you. “Fuck me, Morales.” You demand playfully and he shifts his hips, making you moan, your head tilting back against the pillow at how good he feels.

He chuckles and slowly pulls back, watching your body arch as you try to draw him back in. “Remember you asked for this.” He warns, another firework exploding above the house muffles the sound of your scream when he snaps his hips forward again.

He starts to fuck you in earnest and you cling to him, mouth open as you cry out his name in pleasure. It’s so fucking good. His hand squeezes your tit and you cover his hand with yours, making him squeeze again. “Oh shit. You feel - it’s so fucking good.” You praise him as he rocks into you.

It’s not the romantic, gentle time he probably should have been trying to focus on. This is raw, needy. Years worth of wanting being burnt off with the harsh snap of his hips and the groans when he’s buried so deep inside you that your walls clench around him. “You’re a fucking dream, baby.” He moans your name and kisses your neck. “Blowing my mind, fuck- I’m already about to bust.”

You moan at the fact that he’s so worked up. You’ve reduced this grown man to almost cumming like a teenager and that makes you clench around him, getting close. “I don’t care. You can cum. It’s safe. I have - fuck - I have an IUD. You can cum inside me.” You promise and caress his shoulders as he hunches over you.

That does it for him. He hasn’t even thought about birth control when he normally is an ‘always wear a condom’ kind of guy. The thought of filling you up as his hips stuttering before he pushes deep, painting your walls with ropes of his hot, sticky seed as he groans your name and apologizes over and over.

You stroke his back, enjoying the warmth of his cum filling you up. You sigh, closing your eyes and you know that he will make this up to you. You lower your legs from his hips as he comes to a stop and pants into your neck.

“Fuck, I can’t believe that I did that.” Frankie pants, pulling back to look you in the eyes as he kisses you. “Now, I’ll show you that I can make you cum on my tongue at least.” He promises, feeling a little embarrassed about his quick performance.

You shake your head, “it’s okay, baby. I’ll take it as a compliment. Just means you liked my pussy.” You tease, sliding your hands up to tangle in his hair as you lean in to nip his jaw playfully. “We have more times ahead.” You murmur, knowing that he won’t always do that.

“Shiiiit.” He snorts, shaking his head. “I have to take care of my girl.” He nudges his nose against yours, feeling on top of the world that you want to be with him. He smirks after one more kiss and starts to drag his mouth down your body as he moves towards his goal, determined to make you see stars like he had promised.

You watch him as he pulls out of you and starts to kiss down your body. You moan when he wraps his lips around your nipple, biting down on the bud until it’s puffy and you are squirming beneath him. “Fuck, Frankie.” You moan, already feeling his cum welling up to leak out of you. “Do you want me to - to clean up before you - you know.” You ask, wanting to see if he wants you to clean his cum first. Some men don’t like tasting themselves.

Frankie grunts, shaking his head as he suckles on your tit before pulling off of it. “Why?” He asks, lifting a brow. “I’m just going to make you messy again when I make you cum and then fuck you like I should have the first time.”

You moan when he starts to kiss down your stomach, “some men don’t like it.” You answer and he rests his chin on your lower stomach, “I’m not some men. I don’t give a fuck if you’re full of my cum. I’m going to make you cum.” He promises and you whimper when his breath hits your slicked up folds.

The pearlescent liquid that is starting to drip out of you doesn’t bother Frankie. He uses his thumbs to pull your folds back, exposing your sensitive clit to his hungry gaze and he moans when he sees your cunt clench, pushing more of his cum out. “Fuck, that’s a gorgeous sight.” He groans, looking up at you while he lowers his head down to suck your clit into his mouth.

His mouth is hot and wet as he sucks on your clit and a soft gasp escapes your lips at the sensation. “Fuck. That feels good.” You murmur, stroking your fingers through his hair as his dark eyes watch you from between your thighs.

Frankie has never been a passive lover. He doesn’t take and not give in return. Even the one night stands left his bed unable to tell anyone that he had been selfish or didn’t try to make sure they had a good time. You, he especially wants to enjoy this, he wants you to love it. To be addicted to it and him in turn. The same way he is already addicted to you. He flattens his tongue against your folds and tastes the two of you combined with a moan.

You moan at the way he laps at you, tasting his own spend from your pussy, and you love the way his hands squeeze your thighs as he pushes them further apart to accommodate his wide shoulders. "Shit." You hiss in pleasure when he pushes his tongue inside of you.

He chuckles into you, aware that you are both shocked and awed by the fact that he’s willing to devour you so thoroughly. It makes it even better, his spent cock twitching as he feels your walls pulse around his tongue. Moaning at how good you are being for him. He can hear the cheers and the fireworks outside, but he’s focused on you, nothing else matters right now as he laps at your cunt.

Your head tilts back as his nose nudges against your clit and your chest heaves as the pleasure makes your spine tingle. The way he’s devouring you like a man starved has your mouth falling open in a silent moan.

Frankie groans, unwilling to pull away from your cunt to encourage you, so he just makes sounds as he doubles down on your pussy. Wanting to see you come apart for him as his cock starts to harden again.

His tongue pushes deep, lapping up his cum combined with yours, and you whimper, getting closer as he nudges your clit with his nose again. “Fuck, baby. You’re gonna make me cum.” You moan and he works his tongue faster, sending you over the edge.

He absorbs your sounds, loving how they muffle through your pussy and your walls flutter wildly as your body arches. Sucking your clit into his mouth and pulling on it while your body shakes and he wrings every drop of pleasure out of you that he can until you are pushing at his head. He lets go, licking at you softly just to feel you convulse with aftershocks and he chuckles quietly. “Now we’re even.”

You chuckle breathlessly, eyes closed as you enjoy the way he makes you feel, and you sigh in bliss as he kisses his way back up your body. You drag him down to press your lips to his, not caring about the combined taste on his tongue as it tangles with yours. You slide your hand down between you, wrapping your fingers around his hardening cock. “Lay down.” You order, letting go of him to push on his chest.

He rolls onto his back and reaches for you. “You want to ride?” He asks, helping you as you swing a leg over his waist and straddle him. The next barrage of fireworks starts to burst, lighting up the bedroom and he grins. “There’s a show to compete with.”

You smirk, sliding down his body until you’re kneeling between his legs. His cock is still half hard so you wrap your fingers around him and take the head of his cock into your mouth. You love the way he groans and his mouth falls open as his dark eyes watch you.

“Fuck.” Frankie hisses, wanting to close his eyes and enjoy the feeling but he wants to watch you more. Knowing that this is so much better than his wildest dreams about you. “Fuck, baby, that mouth.” He groans. “I knew you would look so pretty with my cock in your mouth. So fucking pretty.” He reaches down and caresses your cheek, feeling the jaw move as you take him deeper.

He hardens more in your mouth and you love that, tasting the tang of your arousal lingering on his skin and you whimper around his cock as you start to pump what you can’t take into your mouth.

“Fuck, I want you to ride me.” Frankie whines. “Want to see your tits bounce while you ride my cock. Want to watch you.” He pants and curses again. “Mierda- that tongue of yours.” He hisses when you press your tongue against his slit. “Ride me, baby. Please ride me.”

You want to deny him and make him cum down your throat but you want to cum on his cock. You moan and release his cock, a string of spit keeping you connected until it breaks as you shift to straddle him. You reach down to grip his cock, positioning him at your entrance after you lift up to sink down onto his length with a moan, fireworks still exploding outside.

“Fuck!” He rocks his hips up and grabs onto yours as he groans. You are perfect around him, looking like a goddess as you are taking his cock deep into your body. “Perfect, baby. Fuck, you are so perfect.” He reaches up and drags you down for a kiss.

You moan into his mouth, loving the way he feels even bigger in this new angle. “Fuck.” You pant against his mouth and rock back onto him. Your hands sliding into his hair as you slide your tongue against his.

Frankie holds onto you, adoring you with his hands. Cupping your tits and squeezing them as you slowly start to rock. Rolling your hips and squeezing your cock. “Fuck, baby.” He moans into your mouth breathlessly.

He loves the way you rock back onto him and you caress his chest as you kiss along his jaw. He feels so good inside you. “Fuck. You’re so good, baby.” You gasp, hitting something good inside of you.

“That’s it, baby.” Frankie encourages, holding you up and ducking his head so he can take a nipple into his mouth. Doing exactly what he said he wanted to do.

You rock back onto his cock, shifting back to sit up and you grab onto the headboard to start bouncing on his length. His eyes burn into yours and you watch him as your thighs start to burn but you ignore it and focus on the pleasure.

He watches, completely entranced by the sight of you riding him like he was a prized bull. Your fingernails dig into his chest and make him hiss in pleasure at the sweet sting as you brace yourself over him. “Fuck, fuck.” His eyes dip down between your thighs and he watches your lips drag over his shaft, making his toes curl when you clench down around him.

You are lost in the sensations, mouth open and whimpers escaping as you move faster, grinding down onto his cock, and your hand slides down to rub your clit. Frankie’s hand immediately knocks yours away and you whine until he picks up where you left off, rubbing your clit and you pant, “I’m so close. Shit. Keep going. Just like that. Just like - fuckkkk.” You wail, freezing on top of him as your walls clamp down on his cock while you soak him.

Frankie growls when you clamp down on him, soaking his cock and he braces his feet in the bed to rock up into you. Chasing his own release again while you shake and whimper, riding out your high. “Fuck, baby. Love it, love you.” He blurts out, knowing that you might not believe it, but he does love you.

His confession, even though it could be the best of the moment, makes you choke out, “love you too. Fuck, Frankie. Loved you since - since the engagement party.” You confess, wanting him to cum inside you again. “Cum for me. Please. Want to feel it again.” You beg, squeezing his cock in your walls.

He gasps out, holding tight to you as his cock drives up into your grasping walls over and over. “Fuck- you- you’re perfect.” He rambles, turning his head to press his lips to yours as his entire body tenses. Another thrust buries him deep and he’s moaning into your mouth as he falls over the edge again, cock pulsing deep inside you.

You pant against his lips as he stiffens beneath you, painting your walls again, and you caress his cheek, “so good. That time was - wow.” You murmur, relaxing above him as he slides his hands along your back down to your ass to playfully squeeze it.

“Had to make up for the first time.” Frankie jokes, even though it obviously hadn’t bothered you. He kisses you softly and sighs. “You’re amazing.” He has always thought so. “And I meant it. It’s too soon to say something like that, but I don’t just like you or want to sleep with you.” He admits. “I want to have a relationship. See where this goes.”

You caress his chest, “Frankie, we have known each other for four years. I think I’ve been in love with you for three of those. It’s not rushed and it’s not some fling. I want a relationship with you. I love you and I am all in if you are.” You murmur, leaning in to kiss his chin.

Frankie hums and shoots you a grin. “That sounds perfect to me.” He comments, just as the last barrage of fireworks quiets down and cheers are heard around the neighborhood. “Everyone agrees too.” He jokes, happy to finally be here with you and sharing how he feels.

****

“Thanks.” You say to your sister after she hands you a beer. “No worries. Bet you’re glad you don’t need to breastfeed anymore.” She grins and you snort, “yeah. I love him more than life but sometimes I just wanted a beer without having to pump and dump.” You confess, looking over at Santi and your husband, Frankie, as they talk. You have your son on your hip and he’s eight months old now. Santi and Maria’s daughter runs around chasing Uncle Benny, the lively two year old giggling while Tom grills and Will sips his beer overseeing the food.

“You know, Santi and I have thought about trying for another.” Your sister admits, grinning at the squeals of joy as her daughter is scooped up by Benny and he blows raspberries against her tummy. She shrugs slightly. “You having Marcus gave us baby fever. Especially Santi.” She rolls her eyes playfully, amazed that her sexy husband is so enthralled by the idea of getting her pregnant again. He loved her body while carrying their daughter and loves the changes that had brought to her post baby body.

You chuckle, leaning in to kiss the forehead of your baby as he babbles away on your hip. He will want to be crawling around in a minute but you want to hold him for a little longer. “Well, I’ll be honest…I kind of want another one too. Frankie is such a good dad and I just - we got pregnant by surprise with Marcus and we wanted him as soon as we found out but I kind of want to get pregnant knowing we are trying.” You tilt your head, “does that make sense?”

“Perfect sense.” She promises, knowing you better than most. You want to wonder if every time your husband cums inside you if that is the time you create another life together. “It’s the anticipation and fun of trying.” She smirks. “I think that your husband has a breeding kink that might come out.” She teases playfully.

"You think so?" You smirk, looking over at Frankie as his gaze meets yours and he winks at you from under his ever present hat. "I like the idea of that. If we both try, we could be pregnant at the same time." You tell her and she grins, "how freaking amazing would that be? So, are we doing this? Telling our husbands to knock us up again?" She asks and you nod, "hell yeah." She giggles and reaches for Marcus, "lemme hold my nephew for a bit. Go tell your husband what you want." She smirks and you let her take your son into her arms and you sway your hips as you walk over to Frankie who is now alone as Santi walks over to Maria, cooing over the baby. "Happy 4th, baby. Thank you for your service." You murmur as you lean in to lick his ear. 

Shivering, Frankie groans and turns his head to press his lips to yours. “I love when you thank me.” He teases, remembering the very enthusiastic blow job he had gotten on Veteran’s Day, even though you were still pregnant and weren’t always feeling sexy. “This is our anniversary.” He reminds you with a grin, loving the re-telling of the story every year when the fireworks start. Every year the tales of your screams are even more exaggerated, but he doesn’t dispute Benny’s telling of the story. “I love you more now, if that’s possible.”

You reach up to cup his cheek as he wraps his arm around your waist to pull you closer. “I love you so much.” You murmur, leaning in to kiss him softly and he chases your lips as you pull back. “I have something I want to talk about.” You confess, sliding your hand down his chest. “Yeah?” He asks, brow furrowing in curiosity. “I want another baby.” You admit, biting your lip to wait for his reaction.

Frankie is honestly surprised, thinking that you would want a year or two before talking about another. “Are you sure?” He asks, wondering if his pride in Marcus and being a dad has somehow pressured you into thinking that he needs another kid now. “Yeah.” You grin and shrug your shoulders. “Maria and I were thinking that you and Santi could get us pregnant and we can go through it together.” He glances over at his best friend and your sister as they play with Marcus and he has to admit that it would be fun to share the expectant dad role with Santi. “Only if you’re really wanting another baby now.” He murmurs. “You are the one who has to go through everything.”

You nod, “I want this. I want us to enjoy trying for a baby. Marcus was a surprise and I want us to actively try and know that when you’re filling me up, it’s to knock me up.” You explain, “we have been using condoms anyway since I didn’t bother with another IUD after Marcus. We could start trying tonight.” You suggest with a smirk as you press yourself against him.

You can feel his cock twitch when you’re pressed against him, so Frankie doesn’t even deny that it sounds good to him. “I’ll burn the damn condoms.” He vows, hating wearing them, but he wasn’t going to push you towards a different birth control. He just loves feeling nothing between you. “You want a Fourth of July baby, baby?” He smirks back at you, leaning in to kiss you again.

You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss, your tongue sliding into his mouth. You moan when his hands slide down to squeeze your ass through your shorts, and you ignore the cheers from your friends as Frankie devours you. “Guessing you said yes too, huh Fish?” Santi smirks as he walks over with Marcus on his hip. You step back from Frankie and take your son from his godfather, “you hungry, baby?” You ask and Marcus squeezes your breast, making you laugh. “Come on, let’s get you a snack.” You coo to your baby as you carry him into the house to get a snack for him.

Santiago slaps Frankie on the back and laughs. “Fuck, we are in for it now.” He jokes, smiling broadly at the adventures to come. “First one to get their wife pregnant has to buy the rounds throughout the pregnancy.” He tells him, making Frankie snort. “Pendejo.” He huffs. “You just want me to buy the drinks.” He won’t give a shit about it though. Proudly will buy the drinks since he’s a lucky fucking man. He’s got the woman he wanted and the life he never imagined he would have, all because of the Fourth of July.

[paingoes]

delta: io saturnalia vestrae celsitudinis paris: what the fuck are you wearing delta: corona sanctae luciae in commemoration of the martyred virgins paris: that is a massive fire hazard delta: can i take it off then paris: yes delta: thank you paris: i actually need to wrest creative control back from PR the girls have lose their goddamn minds delta: its a traditional costume delta: wasnt your school religious paris: nominally yes but i dont remember a single fucking thing they taught us paris: only the horror stories actually  paris: you know that one of the miracles that got space sanctus nicolaus canonized was bringing three murdered children back from the dead? they’d been cut into pieces and preserved with salt because they didn’t listen to their parents. they were going to be sold as meat during the wartime famine. paris: who the fuck tells that story to children??? paris: i guess im preaching to the choir here though i know youve seen worse delta: yessir. paris: mhm. delta: are you staying in here paris: yes delta: okay paris: what the fuck are you looking at me like that for i know YOU dont celebrate paris: if youre mad i didnt get you anything you need to get in line delta: i didnt expect anything paris: good cause im tapped out paris: i paid for everyones fucking holiday bonuses out of pocket until the treasury can figure their shit out im actually broke delta: its okay your highness paris: cool delta: they decorated downstairs  delta: lot of open flames  paris: im just glad they can entertain themselves honestly i do not want to be in charge of the mandatory fun shit i always hated that delta: you didnt celebrate when you were little? paris: i mean you know how he was paris: its a ceremonial thing he had to observe, you know he wasnt actually religious at all delta: … paris: what delta: nothing paris: what? delta: he always got me gifts for saturnalia delta: even before simon did delta: it was nice. he didnt have to. paris: yeah, well, he liked you delta: … delta: can i hit your pen paris: yeah delta: *inhale* [the smoke alarm and sprinkler system go off at this exact moment due to the hundreds of holiday candles lit up on each floor of the ship. this drenches both of them.] paris: god fucking damn it

[teratocrat]

A single yellow dwarf, unremarkable, of about 1.0218 solar masses. And in its corona, dancing aurora-dragons, ribbons and feathers of nine-colored light, singing and reciting poetry to each other and hitching freezing rides on the asteroids and comets that swing close enough to the star to leap out onto.

One small, dense planet, frosted over with incandescent stormclouds that snow lead flakes onto the slopes of volcanoes whose calderas are choked with galena coral reefs, the bones of colonies of radiation-tolerant extremophilic microorganisms, and where sulfur-swamps coat the lazy tideless beaches of the planet's only ocean, stirred and tilled by people like lanky bundles of black ironstraw, who heap their storehouses high with xanthous dried fusegrass.

One larger, much cooler planet, the calcite gleam of its moon hidden from the surface much of the time by cloudcover. warm, shallow, mildly acidic seas of lavender mucous, tentative marshes of weeping fuschia ferns, translucent lapine blobs with probing antennae that could be eyes or ears or questing tongues, and in the middle of the deepest ocean, a massive gelatinous thing, a superorganism like a rose with its stem plunging down into the volcanic baths of an oceanic rift, a mind from whom all other minds on this planet came and to which they occasionally return, eager to share their stories.

One rocky planet, bitterly cold and with the merest wisps of atmosphere clinging to it. Lifeless, all its water burned off it by baleful solar glare, the vast horizon-spanning saltpan seafloors bone-bare under the violet sky, and its moon hanging above like a clenched fist of black basalt.

An asteroid belt, scattered diamond motes of ice and stone and clay and metals, with three dwarf planets in its embrace, and the largest of them bearing a banner of silver and midnight, a unicorn guarding some alien tree.

A planet one might almost mistake for Earth, for all its snake-necked tortoise-camels and gold-feathered tigermen, for all its gleaming pentagonal ziggurats of diamond and steel, its three space elevators anchored in the emerald forests that girdle the equator, the capital of an interplanetary empire founded at the mouth of an immense river lazily piling hundreds of tons of silt a year into delta marshes, its vast ports berthing wide, flat-bottomed barges hauling iron and salt and sand and cinnabar, barrels of fish and wine and oil and perfumes, tigerman janissaries and scholars and poets and wizards, all tallied and accounted for in the lightning thoughts of supercomputers domesticated by bureaucracy. spaceplanes like silver songbirds or leaping fish ferrying the nobility (who disdain regular shuttle flights from the tips of the space elevators as base transportation for commoners) from the surface of the planet to its moon above, or to any number of gleaming stations in high orbit.

A gas giant, pale as pearl streaked with delicate pink and green pastels, skirted by dozens of captured child-moons, many of them bearing the same unicorn banner, some of them mined for this or that rare earth element, cities buried under the shielding crust of a scant handful, and two of them habitiformed enough to support imperial hunting grounds - managed grasslands or forests full of imported game - and hunting lodges of squat domes and towering spires, mirrored labyrinthine greenhouse-gardens and treasure-vaults of platinum jewelry set with nebula-gems snatched from their condensation-nests in the gas giant's depths.

Another gas giant, the blues and purples of a ripe plum blushing from clouds of midnight-black marbled with gold, icy rings slicing through swirling lunar orbits, merchants and mercenaries and privateers gliding from port to port in their sapphire-hulled ships, out where the empire scrabbles to find purchase. hollowed-out asteroids house cylindrical farms or monasteries of fatalistic leonine faiths or the huddled bodies of wound-down murine clockwork eunuchs, commissioned to advise and amuse some tiger-empress whose phoenix standard had long since faded into obscurity by the time the founder of the unicorn-banner dynasty first rallied soldiers to his cause.

An Earth-sized ball of grey-green ice, glassy smooth surfaces broken up by cryovolcanoes pumping volatiles up from a sooty core to rain down again in miserable pattering drizzles of methane through ammonia blizzards.

An ice giant, the immense azure sphere its inward neighbor might have been were it not for the vagaries of fate as involved in early star system formation, accompanied by seventeen bitterly cold moons whose tides have woven something enormous and ponderous of thought out of the inner sea of supercritical fluids.

a dozen or more dwarf planets of packed stone and ice, swinging through the outer black clouds on vastly elliptical orbits, witnesses to tumbling nickel-iron visitors and alien probes relaying streams of blurry photography and other observations back to some unknown homeworld as they fall endlessly through interstellar space.

[scoutsasesinos]

Territorio Kalinago: los sobrevivientes del Caribe

Territorio Kalinago: los sobrevivientes del Caribe.

“...eran llamados Caribs 

no porque comieran carne humana, 

sino porque defendían bien su hogar”

Conquistador Juan de Castellanos

¿Caníbal o Carib?

En el otoño del año 2010 la comunidad indígena del Commonwealth of Dominica asumió oficialmente, luego de 500 años, el nombre de Kalinago. Anteriormente a esta etnia se le ubicaba con el nombre de Carib. La palabra en sí es un embrollo ya que el término existe antes de la llegada de Colón a las islas antillanas, pero con un significado totalmente distinto al que se le dió. Carib es un vocablo de la rama yé-tupi-caribe que significa: “Poderoso señor, dueño de esclavos, guerrero valiente”. Desafortunadamente los colonizadores distorsionaron su significado a partir de observaciones sobre algunos comportamientos y costumbres por parte de los nativos, dándole un giro a la palabra y deteriorándola cómo: caníbal o lo que es lo mismo, antropófago.

Esto a partir de las tradiciones isleñas que consistían en enterrar a los muertos en la arena para esperar la descomposición de la carne. Limpio el hueso, éste se llevaba a casa para venerar a los ancestros y rendirle culto al muerto.  Al parecer, españoles y franceses no vieron esta peculiaridad con buenos ojos al encontrar cadáveres despellejados en las playas, y de ahí la leyenda negra de los antropófagos del Mar Caribe. Así que, recuperar el nombre Kalinago de manera oficial (y legal) es un logro simbólico de ésta, la última etnia de las Antillas Menores, de la que en Latinoamérica no se sabe casi nada.

Wai´tu kubuli

El 3 de noviembre de 1943, entrando al mar antillano, el almirante genovés divisó una isla montañosa en la cuál no pudo atracar sus barcos debido a la topografía asesina y lo fuerte de las corrientes. La nombró Dominica por haber sido descubierta un domingo. Para avituallarse de agua, mandó una pequeña expedición que dió la vuelta a la isla a la tierra y tocó tierra y eso fue todo. Durante los siguientes 167 años ningún europeo pisó Wai’tu kubuli que es su nombre original, el cuál significa: “El cuerpo de ella es alto”. Las migraciones iniciales provenientes del Delta del Río Orinoco, en Sudamérica llevaban alrededor de 1000 años empujando a la etnia Arawak (habitantes originales de las Antillas emigrados del norte y centro de América) hacia otras islas. Ellos, los Kalinago, probaron ser feroces guerreros que usando sus kanawas iban conquistando islas tras isla en la región, desde lo que hoy se conoce como Trinidad y Tobago hasta Puerto Rico y Cuba.A la llegada de los conquistadores el resto de los pobladores nativos en otras islas (taínos y arawakos) sucumbió a las enfermedades, sofisticadas tecnologías de guerra, a los suicidios colectivos y los nuevos asentamientos colonizadores.

Wai´tu kubuli probó ser terreno difícil, la belicosidad probada de su gente fue demasiado para los españoles, franceses e ingleses que en más de una ocasión intentaron hacerse de ella, así que la dejaron a su suerte por años pasando de largo hacia Guadeloupe o Martinique. Mientras tanto, más y más nativos llegaban a la isla buscando escapar de las masacres que se iban cometiendo en territorios aledaños como los que hoy son Saint Kitts o Santa Lucía.

Para el siglo XVIII finalmente una villa europea de orígen francés tuvo éxito (1690) la llamaron Roseau y ese fue el principio del fin.Para 1730 apareció la primera catedral católica en el pueblo, los franceses habían roto el trato de Aix-La-Chapelle en el que se reconocía la isla como posesión. Para empeorar la situación, después de la Guerra de los Siete Años (1756-1763) en Europa, que enfrentó a los superpoderes de la época y que concluyó con el Tratado de París en 1763, se otorgó Dominica a la corona inglesa. Ya en el año de 1768 el comercio de esclavos había importado cerca de 41,000 africanos para posterior venta en las plantaciones, lo cuál acentuó la presencia foránea y el desvanecimiento de los indígenas a excepción de un pequeño territorio en la región noreste alrededor de la población de Salybia.

Iniciado el siglo XX, se registraban apenas unos 200 kalinago y su número seguía disminuyendo, la extinción parecía irremediable. Para darnos una idea del nivel de destrucción, un poblado cerca de la capital ostenta el nombre de Massacre.

Por el artista Earl Darius Etienne. Massacre, Dominica. West Indies.

En 1902 Sir Henry Hesketh J. Bell quien era el Administrador de Dominica, otorga a la población nativa el derecho sobre el Territorio Kalinago (3600 acres entre lo que hoy son la Villa de Atkinson al norte y Castle Bruce al sur). Los límites fueron anunciados el 04 de julio de 1903 en la gaceta oficial de Dominica, más, establecer el territorio no fue del todo exitoso, esto, a partir de la falta de claridad en el estatuto que se dió a los Kalinago como vecinos… ¿O súbditos de la Corona? Esto en función de una interpretación distorsionada del espíritu de la ley inglesa, que confabulaba una tutoría sobre los pueblos nativos, considerándolos de menor capacidad intelectual para organizar y distribuir el beneficio de su tierra. Jamás quedó claro y firmado si el otorgarles este territorio era interpretado como una renuncia al resto de la isla (que ya en ese momento se encontraba a la venta en los mercados de bienes y raíces en Londres)o si se consideraba su autonomía dentro del mismo sin extender el dominio sobre sus personas. Para el Imperio quedó claro que ni eran vecinos ni habitantes originales, y en consecuencia actuaron.

La Guerra Carib de 1930

Wai´tu kubuli, Indias Occidentales 

Petición del 10 de agosto de 1930

Saludamos y expresamos nuestra lealtad a Su Graciosa Majestad el Rey Jorge V Rey de Inglaterra e Irlanda y Colonias de Ultramar y Emperador de India.

Suplicamos a su Majestad: 

La restauración de nuestras antiguas reglas y privilegios que habían sido ya acordados con su difunta Majestad Reina Victoria y que ilegal e injustificadamente han sido despojados de nosotros desde 1926. Por antiguos privilegios significamos que dentro de los límites de nuestro territorio el efe nuestro es elegido en concordancia con nuestras tradiciones de tal modo que él administre la fuerza y la justicia sin intervención de las autoridades británicas, excepto cuando el jefe nuestro lo pida o la mayoría de la población Carib lo solicite.  Además, que la población Carib que se encuentre dentro del territorio concedido esté exenta de pagar cualquier impuesto con la única obligación de mantener abierto el camino en la parte que cruza nuestra reserva. FINALMENTE, solicitamos de su Graciosa Majestad que nosotros los Carib, hemos sido siempre leales al dominio británico de la isla y hemos vivido siempre en paz con las autoridades de su Majestad y recordamos que desde el inicio de la historia escrita, esta isla ha sido nuestro hogar y que hoy, viviendo en una muy pequeña sección de la misma, nosotros, los últimos de nuestra raza hemos sido reducidos a un estado de pobreza en el cuál sólo podemos enfrentar nuestra extinción. Estamos convencidos que nuestras peticiones convencerán a su Graciosa Majestad sobre la urgencia de tomar medidas que tomen respeto, reconocimiento y protección de su parte.

Firmado

Thomas. J. John.

Jefe Carib.

Un viernes 19 de septiembre de 1930, por la mañana un grupo de policías llegó a la reserva para confiscar alcohol, tabaco y otros bienes por ser adquiridos de contrabando en las islas aledañas (esto nunca se confirmó). Esa fue la acusación y el resultado fue: cuatro indígenas heridos por arma de fuego, dos muertos, el arribo del barco de la Armada Real H.M.S. Delhi para apoyar con marines así como a trazar con luces de bengala la operación, la captura del jefe Thomas “Jolly” John y su posterior reclusión en una cárcel de la capital, la desaparición de documentos otorgados en tiempos del Rey Jorge III que acreditaban los convenios adquiridos por su majestad, así como la desaparición del cargo de Jefe Kalinago hasta que éste volvió a ser restituido en 1952.

La respuesta del nuevo administrador Edward C. Eliot:

“Los nativos han perdido todo rastro de su cultura, no hablan ya su lengua, ni visten de algún modo que les distinga del resto de los habitantes de la isla, tampoco mantienen algún canto ritual ni ceremonias, deberían aceptar de una buena vez que lo mejor para ellos es asimilarse y que como súbditos de la Corona Inglesa no están exentos de pagar impuestos ni de comportarse al margen de la ley que nos rige a todos.Así también, mantener una política para conservar los restos de su cultura tiene poca simpatía en la Oficina del Departamento de Estado para la Administración de los Territorios Imperiales de Ultramar”.

La única respuesta real a las peticiones fue la construcción de una estación de policía, que fue, hasta mediados de los años 1980, el único edificio con electricidad en toda la reserva.

Oscuro futuro para el Territorio Kalinago

Era una mañana de primavera en el año 2010 cuando bajando por el río Roseau y cruzando el puente, llegué a la sección del mercado de alimentos del lado que da a lo que fue el antiguo mercado de esclavos, ahí están los camioncillos que te llevan a la costa atlántica de la isla. Cabe mencionar que en la capital salvo excepciones, la población es toda de orígen africano pero una vez que has encontrado el sitio donde toma uno los vagones que van para allá, la cosa cambia; sí, aquí hay indígenas. El chofer me pregunta de dónde vengo y a dónde voy, al obtener mi respuesta automáticamente hace un chiste sobre ello: “Soy azteca de un lado, maya del otro y kalinago de la mente” mientras se toca los genitales, subimos cerca de seis personas al bus, todos afros a excepción de la mujer el chofer, una india kalinago y otro chico que es mestizo de indígena y africano. 

Iniciamos el viaje en su nave llamada “Indigenous II” con rumbo a Baraná Auté. Llevamos más de una hora de viaje cuando paramos en una villa, Castle Bruce, justo en la línea que marca el inicio del territorio. Toda la gente que venía en el bus baja aquí, excepto un afroantillano quien toma su distancia y se torna serio y callado. El terreno cambia y comenzamos a subir por empinadas colinas. Sería difícil discernir en qué momento, más,al pasar un pueblito llamado Senekú, el cambio es profundamente marcado, niñas de pelos lacios andan rumbo a la escuela, las mujeres cargan costales sobre la carretera y los hombres son bajos de estatura, morenos de un tono rojo-tostado, aquellos con rostros definidos más como africanos con morenos como indígenas, son claros, el acento del inglés es más suave, y sobre todo, algunas casas mantienen la hoja de palma como material predominante en sus construcciones. Son callados, no hay algarabía. Silencio.

Y, con todo, los romanticismos aquí no caben, no existe ya, por decirlo así, una cultura. El chofer sube el volumen de su radio en el que suena Bob Marle. Más tarde llegamos a Baraná Auté, un pequeño parque que recrea vagamente el modo en que fueron las villas hace 700 años. Alrededor de este concepto se plasma la búsqueda de una identidad ya inexistente. Una mestiza negra-kalinago me da el tour. Sin embargo en menos de 20 minutos  ya hemos recorrido todo el lugar y apenas ha respondido a algunas de mis preguntas. Se queja de no saber más sobre la historia de su pueblo, sólo se concreta a darme lo que viene en cualquier  guía de turistas que encuentre uno en la red.

Le hago dos preguntas concretas al final: ¿Por qué no hablan su lengua nativa? ¿Cuál es el futuro para la gente del territorio? Responde diciendo que los ingleses nunca confiaron en ellos y en respuesta los kalinago nunca les enseñaron su lengua, bajo la misma lógica ellos dejaron morir el idioma para ser aceptados.A la segunda pregunta, me contesta que una vez hubo un jefe que propuso que sólo se casarían entre ellos, pero la población se rehusó, alegando que eran libres de elegir lo que quisieran.Concluye diciendo: “En veinte años, seremos todos negros”. El territorio sobrevivirá, el primer abogado se recibió en el año 2011, las mujeres se capacitan para ser enfermeras, hay programas para mejorar el área médica del territorio. 

Ahora, la búsqueda de sus raíces está empanizada de new age y fomentada por la industria turística de Dominica, y aún así, poca gente viene a visitarlos. Viven aislados dentro de una isla. Permanecen en todo caso la manufactura de canastas y la producción de pan de harina de tapioca como hicieron sus ancestros pero nada más. Conservan la conciencia de que ellos habitaron aquí antes y que seguirán aquí por mucho tiempo más. Saben, sobre todo, que Dominica los necesita par asegurar el prestigio de ser la última isla con población nativa la cuál ronda los 3000 individuos siendo apenas el 2,9 % de la población total del país.

Como me dijo Albert, un Kalinago: “A diferencia de los indígenas en el continente, nosotros no tuvimos a dónde correr. Han venido mohawks de Canadá y Seminoles de América con dinero, más, no somos hermanos (...) apenas una curiosidad antropológica”. Pienso, al beber mi cerveza “Kubuli Dominica´s Pride” nunca fueron “buenos salvajes” al contrario, pero ahora su territorio ha sido convertido en un zoológico. 

El sol se pone dejando ver un destello color verde al final, los antiguos esclavos son ahora los dueños de la isla, al tiempo que los sobrevivientes del Caribe se refugian en su soledad, siendo esta su victoria: seguir vivos y en paz. O como reza irónicamente esa placa en el malecón de Roseau: 

“Los Británicos estuvieron aquí. Gracias a Dios”

03 de marzo, 2011

Roseau, Dominica.

W.I.

por Rodrigo B. Ponce / APACHE PIRATA

Publicado en Milenio Diario el día domingo 10 de abril, 2011. Reeditado para SCOUTS ASESINOS

[vvatchword]

A New Thing

The engine still dripped, stinking of sea and weathered steel. Its face shone with condensation, and steam straggled beneath its pointed snout.

Sinclair stepped out of the darkness. The first thing that struck Meltzer was that he was absurdly clean. His dress shirt was almost perfectly white but for some discoloration around the throat and armpits; it had clearly been ironed, as had the slacks. No patches, the stains few, and the man was smoking in a cigarette holder. The hair was black, slicked back, streaked with silver at the temples, and reading glasses hung 'round his throat. A pistol was tucked under his arms; ammo pouches hung on his belt. But for the pistol and pouches, he could have stepped straight out of a meeting.

“Meltzer! Chief!” Sinclair grinned at them, waving. “About time we met, eh?”

Meltzer sagged with relief. “Oh, thank god.”

Beside him, Delta scraped to a halt. At first, Meltzer thought nothing of it. Then Sinclair’s smile fell. A weird light illuminated his face.

“So there you are, Sinclair,” a young woman said.

Meltzer halted.

“Do you remember Sinclair, Father?” the young woman asked. Her voice was weirdly monotone, a British accent, and seemed to rise up out of the air around them—not loud, just omnipresent.

Meltzer whirled.

Delta swayed behind him, the light in his helmet weirdly dull and coppery. A corona shivered like a living fog around his helmet, gold and glittering.

The girl’s voice drove on.

“Do you know why he wants to leave, Father?”

Sinclair raised his hands in supplication. “Now hold on there, Eleanor. You know it was nothing personal.”

“Yes,” Eleanor whispered.

She wasn’t talking to them. Delta had turned toward Sinclair. Steam puffed up from his sleeves. He raised his drill and pointed.

“HOOO,” he said.

Meltzer flung himself in front of Delta, arms out.

“Whoah there!” he said. “Whoah there, Delta.”

Sinclair backed away, whipping out his pistol. He’d made it halfway to the train when Delta’s porthole flashed—the corona flashed a fraction of a second later—and Sinclair jerked—a full-body twitch—and toppled over backwards with a nasty thud.

“Sinclair!” Meltzer rushed to Sinclair’s side.

Delta grumbled and lifted to his full height, shaking out his arms. The corona dissipated, leaving only the faintest bubble of gold.

“Are you all right?” Meltzer panted, lifting Sinclair to a seated position.

Sinclair sucked for breath; his eyes were huge. He said nothing. He clawed himself upright using Meltzer’s arm and shoulder, whipping his eyes up to Delta.

“Subject Delta,” said Sinclair, leaning on Meltzer. “I’ve tried to put you out of my head for 14 goddamn years. Now you’d better stay out or I will absolutely refuse to take you to the promised land, you understand?”

“Pardon me?” Meltzer asked.

“It’s a long story,” said Sinclair. “And unnecessary. Look, Delta.” Sinclair stepped away from Meltzer, eyes dark. “You will not harm me or this deal is off. That includes going inside my head without permission. Do you understand?”

Delta swayed. The light in his helmet glowed a little brighter; the corona faded a little.

“Father and I are a new thing,” said Eleanor, her voice faint. She sounded resigned, faded. “He draws on me. I draw on him. We can’t control it yet.” Her voice grew frigid. “Maybe we could if someone hadn’t broken him.”

Sinclair threw his hands up. “Look, honey, it wasn’t anything personal. All I did was pay the bills.”

“Liar,” Eleanor said, grim but triumphant. “Do you know who you’re traveling with, Mark Meltzer?”

“I don’t know that I have a choice,” Meltzer said. His right hand twitched as though to grab his pistol, but he released his hand and dropped it at his side. “All I care about is getting Cindy out of this place.”

“Who is Cindy?” she asked.

“My daughter,” he said softly. “Blonde hair. Has my eyes and nose. Her mother’s ears and cheeks. Eight years old now.”

“Oh,” said the girl. “I know her.”

His mouth fell open. “You… where is she?”

“You can’t have her,” said the girl matter-of-factly. “She’s making ADAM.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Meltzer launched at Delta and lurched up on his tip-toes. “She’s my daughter! She’s my baby! My everything! You can’t have her! Where is she? Tell me!”

He slammed his pointing finger up on Delta’s gut. His voice broke.

No one replied. Delta slowly turned to regard him. The corona brightened briefly. Something must have been happening, but it was all internal; Delta swayed on his feet and purred, wrists twitching. Steam rolled up from the suit in curling waves. Meltzer could feel something stirring deep beneath the leather.

Then the heat and corona faded. All that was left was Delta’s burning viewplate, a weird greenish-gold that itself burnt into yellow.

Delta shouldered his rivet gun and marched into the train car. He stepped up on the stairs and the whole car leaned down toward him with a groan. He leaned in sideways, squatted, slipped inside. The door slid shut. A heavy groan, and the car slowly rocked upright.

A hand fell on Meltzer’s shoulder. Meltzer jumped.

It was Sinclair.

“Son,” Sinclair said in a thick voice, “you are a brave man, but I must recommend you don’t go charging Big Daddies.” He patted his shoulder, eyes rising to the car. “Let’s go to the engine. Nothing we do will be private now, but we can hope Eleanor will keep herself caged.”

“You’ve got to explain yourself,” Meltzer said as Sinclair ambled away.

“Oh, I will, just not here,” said Sinclair. “Come on. All of this is complicated.”

[writingwell]

Could you write a fic where Beckett has been sick for a bit and keeps insisting it’s a cold before Castle forces her to take a Covid test preferably pre-couple pretty pleaseeee🙏🏼

pre-couple but covid, idk what time machine shenanigans would go on for that, so i made it tried-to-be-a-couple didn't-work might-try-again-any-day. you might not be looking for that. but here you go:

What started innocently enough soon turned vicious: from a tickle to a hellacious barking, sniffing when she drank a freshly made cup of espresso to vampire sneezing explosively in rapid succession.

Every eyebrow in the bullpen went up. Every eye turned her way, suspicious and damning.

She seemed to notice her audience, turned to him instead, glaring as she spat, "It's not covid!"

"Uh-huh," he answered. Both hands raised in surrender.

But they all knew.

(Well, they all suspected, because it was 2022, and they were midway through boosters and Delta/Omicron and Great Flu Resurgence and some of the beat officers were getting RSV on top of that and then a stomach flu went around when the masks came off in the precinct, and really, coughing and sneezing and a scratchy voice—what else could it be?)

No one was immune to the suspicion, just as no one was immune to covid but in the window of time afforded to one by the life of the vaccine or a previous bout with the novel corona virus, and well, everyone had their own story to tell, much like after 9/11 when that was the first thing people talked about in the street or meeting for a drink, where were you, only now it was how many of your family died or how long were you laid up?

Rick Castle cornered her (not too closely, no; he knew she was contagious and he didn't want his mother getting it, vaccinated or not) in the parking garage of the Twelfth before she could ride up to Homicide.

"It's not covid," she hissed, before he could even speak.

"So take a test," he answered easily. "Put our minds at ease."

"I did. I have. I've taken three," she hissed.

If he stepped back to avoid whatever sprayed from her hissing, could you blame him? "This morning? Before the call about the body?"

"Last night," she said. A grudging hesitation. "It was negative last night."

"Okay, then maybe go to the City clinic," he said amicably. "Could be strep." Or whooping cough.

"I don't feel bad, no body aches, no fever—"

"Alexis got strep every winter until she was thirteen. That year, no strep! We joked she'd grown out of it. But then her best friend, after every sleepover, would mysteriously come down with strep and Alexis wouldn't. Friend's mom made me take her in and get tested. Sure enough, she was asymptomatic."

"It's not strep," Beckett answered. Scathingly, but she was the Captain, and she did often push him aside when she needed to get going and he was being difficult.

(Busy woman, the Captain of the Twelfth. He was often being difficult, considering he wouldn't quit her and she wouldn't commit to him.

But she wasn't wrong, since she had a press conference to get to and a Homicide division to micro-manage. Whoops, did he say micro-manage? He was being mean. In his own head. To the woman of his dreams/nightmares.

Theirs was often a love-hate relationship these days.)

He kept silent, rode the elevator up with her. He made her a cup of espresso in the break room while she prepped for the press conference. Granted, he was rushing to get it ready—coffee was still their love language, despite the bumps in their road—but when she took a sip and her face blanched, he knew.

"Ahem. Funny taste?"

"It's not covid, Castle."

At the press conference, she was in the middle of her rundown on the DB—okay, yes, Castle should have been listening but the guy had been a jackass member of City Council who had tried to get her fired—and her voice cracked.

She cleared her throat. Coughed delicately into her fist. Tried again.

Her voice broke like fine porcelain in the hands of underpaid movers, and the first question from the press was, Are you coming down with something?

She steadfastly refused to look at him. Deny deny deny, and she was getting good at it, as the Captain of the Twelfth, had to give her that.

He was home that night working on book edits—he was giving Nikki Heat a vicious bout of covid, laying her up in her apartment, when a murderer comes to call—when his phone vibrated off his desk and dropped to the floor.

Her face the ID. From that ill-fated night in his bed. She had changed it twice before he'd discovered a passcode to his phone she couldn't guess/wheedle from his mother. Even now, it filled with him a melange of dread and sweetness, terror and tenderness.

"Captain Beckett, you rang?"

"Castle—"

"You sound awf—"

"I have covid."

"I know," he murmured, rising to his feet. "I bought chicken soup from the Czech deli on my way home, and I have a guy on speed dial who can prescribe you paxlovid."

"The drug? I heard it gives you rebound covid."

"That's not because of the drug," he told her, gathering his keys and wallet, his jacket. "It's just a thing some people get, treatment or no."

"Okay," she croaked. "Get me drugs."

"I'll be right there."

He arrived forty-seven minutes later with the prescription, chicken soup, a package of KN95s, his laptop, and a determination he'd not felt since that botched night.

She took it all.

She wore the mask, laid on the couch in the living room with her face to a satin pillow, her eyes slitted like a cat, and watched him make edits on the book.

"Did you give her covid?" she rasped.

"Yes."

She didn't answer. Merely watched him.

He submitted his first round of edits and made her a bowl of soup, wore his own mask but wouldn't isolate from her as she sipped the broth. Her throat worked as if each swallow was pain. Her eyes had dark rings, bruised-looking, and her hair was limp. She coughed and they both flinched.

He fished a water with electrolytes from his bag of provisions, opened it for her because her fingers looked fragile. She drank. She eyed him.

She fell asleep with the bowl against her chest, half drunk. He took it from her, put the water on the floor close at hand, couldn't resist pushing the hair back behind her ear.

He bent low. Held his breath for an instant before he confessed: "I didn't want to. But. I still love you."

-----

[cmdr-h-of-the-woods]

Delta Coronae Austrinae, a yellow-orange type-K giant

[ildeltadivenereriva]

‼️È arrivato il Re del piacere, un succhiaclitoride con una sorpresona: nella corona si nasconde anche una lingua vibrante, così potrai scegliere ogni giorno il modo in cui essere coccolata. Lo trovi anche sul sito ‼️❤️#succhiaclitoride #linguavibrante #vibratingtongue #suctionvibrator #sexyshoponline #ildeltadivenere #arcoditrento #rivadelgarda #gardasee (presso Il Delta di Venere) https://www.instagram.com/p/CnZKk3qsn1N/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[bookwyvern]

I went to ArtPrize in GR for the first time in a couple today. It's the last weekend of the exhibit for this year. Saw a lot of the downtown spots, some good art, some meh art, and one that I'm kicking myself for not getting pictures of. From the ArtPrize website and downloaded from the exhibit description:

The pictures don't really do justice to the full impact of walking down the very long hallway all along this piece. You start walking along the hallway, swarming with other people all out for ArtPrize. And because it's so crowded you can't really get close enough to see the artist's plaque. And you think oh, dots on black fabric, I've seen some videos about the technique and how long it takes for each point to dry. And then you think man, I would not have the patience to do this without messing up, and how do you store this while it's drying, and then you start focusing on the swirls and waves formed by the dots. And it's absolutely mesmerizing. And as you've been half hypnotized you don't even realize that you've walked down almost the entire hallway

And then the next thing you see is more of the same stylized paint dots, but these are on shorter pieces, and the swirls are even more vibrant, maybe because of how condensed they are instead of spread out like they were on the last one. But at the bottom of these pieces you realize there's a number. In the thousands. And a month and a year. And it just hits. What this is. You know those numbers. Hell, for a period of time, you were checking Google everyday to see what the new numbers were. And you look back at that long hallway, and all those dots and now know what they were.

It's COVID. It's every single reported COVID death. And I say reported, because we know that there were so many more that didn't get reported. And fuck if you're not almost in tears the second you realize just the absofuckingloute enormity of this. And now I'm still up at almost 2 in the morning because I can't stop thinking about it.

I didn't personally know anyone who died. I had it during the Delta wave around Christmas of 2020. Got it from my mom when we were baking Christmas cookies. I was down for about a week and a half. Was still sleeping almost 14 hours a day for the next 2 months. Mom was sick for nearly 2 months and not really functional for 4. She probably should have gone to the hospital but didn't. We had Christmas in March of 2021.

"Love and Loss in the Time of Corona 2020-2023" by Kym

1,175,082 people.

That's not even getting into the toll of just being so disconnected from everyone else in your life because you're not supposed to leave the house unless absolutely necessary, and you're in a shitty apartment by yourself, working from home, not talking to another human for days at a time. And then even when it's better. There's vaccines, and you start to slowly meet up with friends again, and life slowly goes on to some version of normal again. Except that it's not the same, not really. Better than it was, for sure. But now there's days that I can't make myself leave the house.

It's stupid things mostly. Oh a 10 minute run to the corner grocery to pick up the one thing I forgot while grocery shopping. Nah, I'll just substitute it, or make something else instead. Eh, maybe I'll skip the library run today. Oh, I'll just get gas the next time I have to go somewhere instead. And as a one off, not a big deal. But then I do it a couple of days in a row, and then realize that I haven't left the house for almost a week again.

And sometimes it's fine, and I can just run the errands when I think about it no problem.

But that hesitation to leave the house wasn't there before. And I don't want to label it as agoraphobia because that makes it sound worse than it is. But maybe it kinda might be? Just a little?

I should sleep. It's almost 3 now. And I have to run errands tomorrow.

[rosenongrata]

Behind the Stars – The Great Rift

CHARACTER DIRECTORY.

⋯ ✩ A/N: This will probably be updated periodically as I work on them and their universe over time. If you ever have any questions, feel free to drop them in my inbox! Note: This alphabetical list encompasses characters from both Starfield and Liberation. These stories, while in the same universe, take place in different periods.

GALAXIES.

🌌 — Via Lactea – "Ama-gi; the All-Mother" (Milky Way) 🌌 — Andromeda – "Medea" (Messier 31)

THE 88 CONSTELLATIONS.

💫 — Andromeda – "Andy" – The Chained Maiden 💫 — Antlia – "Lia" – Air Pump 💫 — Apus – Bird of Paradise 💫 — Aquarius – "Aqua" – Water-Bearer 💫 — Aquila – Eagle 💫 — Ara – Altar 💫 — Aries – "Ari" – Ram 💫 — Auriga – Charioteer 💫 — Boötes – "Tess" – Herdsman 💫 — Caelum – "Cae" – Chisel 💫 — Camelopardalis – "Cam" – Giraffe 💫 — Cancer – "Ann" – Crab 💫 — Canes Venatici – "Cane" – Hunting Dogs 💫 — Canis Major – "Cani" – Greater Dog 💫 — Canis Minor – "Can" – Lesser Dog 💫 — Capricornus – "Cap" – Sea-Goat 💫 — Carina – Ship Keel (also a part of Argo Navis) 💫 — Cassiopeia – "Cassie" – The Seated Queen 💫 — Centaurus – "Cen" – Centaur 💫 — Cepheus – "Ceph" – The King 💫 — Cetus – Sea Monster/Whale 💫 — Chamaeleon – "Leon" – Chameleon 💫 — Circinus – "Cici" – Technical Compasses 💫 — Columba – Dove 💫 — Coma Berenices – "Berenices" – Berenice's Hair 💫 — Corona Australis – "Aussie" – Southern Crown 💫 — Corona Borealis – "Borea" – Northern Crown 💫 — Corvus – Crow 💫 — Crater – Cup 💫 — Crux – Southern Cross 💫 — Cygnus – "Cyg" – Swan (also the Northern Cross) 💫 — Delphinus – "Dede" – Dolphin 💫 — Dorado – Dolphinfish 💫 — Draco – Dragon 💫 — Equuleus – "Equi" – Pony 💫 — Eridanus – River of Eridanus 💫 — Fornax – Chemical Furnace 💫 — Gemini – The Twins 💫 — Grus – Crane 💫 — Hercules – Heracles from Greek Myth 💫 — Horologium – Pendulum Clock 💫 — Hydra – Sea Serpent 💫 — Hydrus – Lesser Water Snake 💫 — Indus – "Indy" – The Indigenous* 💫 — Lacerta – Lizard 💫 — Leo – Lion 💫 — Leo Minor – "Lee" – Lesser Lion 💫 — Lepus – "Lep" – Hare 💫 — Libra – Balancing Scales 💫 — Lupus – Wolf 💫 — Lynx – Lynx 💫 — Lyra – Lyre/Harp 💫 — Mensa – Table Mountain 💫 — Microscopium – "Micky" – Microscope 💫 — Monoceros – "Ceros" – Unicorn 💫 — Musca – Fly 💫 — Norma – Spirit Level 💫 — Octans – Octant 💫 — Ophiuchus – "Ophi" – Serpent-Bearer 💫 — Orion – Orion from Greek Myth 💫 — Pavo – Peacock 💫 — Pegasus – Pegasus 💫 — Perseus – Perseus from Greek Myth 💫 — Phoenix – Phoenix 💫 — Pictor – Easel 💫 — Pisces – Fishes 💫 — Piscis Austrinus – "Pisci" – Southern Fish 💫 — Puppis – Ship Stern Deck (also a part of Argo Navis) 💫 — Pyxis – "Pyx" – Mariner's Compass 💫 — Reticulum – "Ret" – Eyepiece Graticule 💫 — Sagitta – Arrow 💫 — Sagittarius – "Sag/Saj" – Archer 💫 — Scorpius – "Scorpio" – Scorpion 💫 — Sculptor – "Scully" – Sculptor 💫 — Scutum – Shield 💫 — Serpens – Snake 💫 — Sextans – Sextant 💫 — Taurus – Bull 💫 — Telescopium – "Tele" – Telescope 💫 — Triangulum – "Tria" – Triangle 💫 — Triangulum Australe – "Trin" – Southern Triangle 💫 — Tucana – Toucan 💫 — Ursa Major – "Ursa" – Greater Bear 💫 — Ursa Minor – "Cub" – Lesser Bear 💫 — Vela – Ship Sails (also a part of Argo Navis) 💫 — Virgo – The Maiden 💫 — Volans – Flying Fish 💫 — Vulpecula – "Vixen" – Fox

STARS.

✨ — Beta Andromedae – "Mirach" ✨ — Delta Antliae – "Delt" ✨ — BPS CS22892-0052 Aquarii – "Sneden" (a part of The Elysians) ✨ — Theta Aurigae – "Mahasim" ✨ — Alpha Canis Majoris – "Sirius" ✨ — Alpha Cassiopeiae – "Schedar; Daria" ✨ — Gamma Cassiopeiae – "Navi; Tsih" ✨ — Alpha Centauri – "Rigil Kentaurus" ✨ — Beta Centauri – "Hadar" (goes by Malachy in other worlds) ✨ — BPM 37093 / V886 Centauri – "Lucy" ✨ — Centaurus X-3 / Krzeminski Centauri – "Krze" ✨ — Alpha Cephei – "Alderamin" ✨ — BPS CS31082-0001 Ceti – "Cayrel" (a part of The Elysians) ✨ — Omicron Ceti – "Mira(e)" ✨ — Alpha Corvi – "Alchiba" ✨ — Gamma Corvi – "Gienah; Dextra" ✨ — Epsilon Cygni – "Gienah" ✨ — ZTF J203349.8+322901.1 Cygni – "Janus" ✨ — Alpha Delphini – "Sualocin" ✨ — Zeta Delphini A – "Zeke" ✨ — Zeta Delphini B – "Delphi" ✨ — Alpha Draconis – "Thuban" ✨ — Beta Draconis – "Rastaban" ✨ — Gamma Draconis – "Eltanin" ✨ — Alpha Hydrae – "Alphard" ✨ — Gliese-Jahreiß "431931" – "GJ" ✨ — Alpha Leporis – "Arneb" ✨ — Beta Leporis – "Nihal" ✨ — HD 140283 Librae– "Methuselah" (also known as The Progenitor; a part of The Elysians) ✨ — Eta Ophiuchi – "Sabik" ✨ — Gamma Orionis – "Bellatrix" ✨ — Lambda Orionis – "Meissa" ✨ — V1005 Orionis – "Vee"

ASTERISMS.

💫 — Ashlesha – "Ash" – Naga 💫 — Baihu – White Tiger 💫 — False Cross – "Eris" 💫 — Diamond Cross – "Dia"

[branded-perceptions]

corona🌟🔆✨️ (wave-like probabilities of spectrum of interplaying possibili-t-ease of via our observers free will alterable timeflow of predeterministic spacetime)

Delta [triangular subjective deCOHERENCE of observers' dualistic perception (decohered polarisation) of nondualistic objectivity (unpolarised Quantum superposition) = trinity🔺️]

Omicron👁 [greek eye-like symbol, biases of habitualised ritualistic observations of what we "see" distorted according to what we "saw" distort our rationality (SEESAW) of decision-making as has become obvious during omicron wave of C-19]