#neighborly relations

[incomingalbatross]

TWICE in two days someone I literally just met has invited me to have tea or coffee with them at a secondary location. Not even as a date thing, either. Baffling.

The first one made more sense because it was a mom whose family was at our church for the first time and who was clearly just INTENSELY friendly as a default setting. Still, though, hearing that I go to school nearish to her home and instantly saying "if you ever need a break come over to our house and have a cup of tea!" is a lot! I would not be that ready to offer hospitality after one interaction with someone.

The second one was a young woman on the train who struck up a conversation about my cross pendant and five minutes later was like "if you're in the area [of her job] we should get coffee sometime!" and asking if I wanted to exchange numbers. HUH?? Like, her vibes were generally fine and it seemed like she was just looking for more friends, but A) why would you ask that and B) why would you WANT to ask that. I am a stranger!! Why are YOU ready to give ME your contact information!! What are you doing???

Anyway. I wouldn't have bet on two super-friendly strangers in two days but there we are.

[amphibiosis]

oh.. note to self i owe the music store a dollar

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Neighborly (Part 2)

mdni

Masterlist

Soap x reader x Ghost

Summary: You didn't know hate until Johnny MacTavish. (Or a really big build-up to cuddles and smut).

Warnings: near death experience, hypothermia, cuddling for medical reasons, implied medically-related stripping, implied anxiety disorder/depressive disorder, self-isolation, language, incredibly shitty communication and social competence.

It was supposed to be a two-shot.

The cold burned.

Once the sun set, the weather front moved in, and the temperature plunged. Snow fell thick and fast, just short of a whiteout. Your feet sank to the ankle, then to the shin, and your aching trudge became a slow-motion nightmare. It was about that time you realized – you were in real danger.

It was a two-mile walk – uphill, through old snow and frozen sludge – from your stranded vehicle. Home was closer than town, so you put your head down, buried your mittened hands in your armpits, and threw your emergency blanket from the car over your head as a bright orange cloak. And you set out.

It really took you too long to leave the car, but it was a life and death decision, and you waffled between shit options. On a busier road, you’d stay in the car. But this kind of snowfall would keep people home for a day or two. More than enough time to freeze to death, curled up in the driver’s seat.

If you lived, you’d make a better emergency kit for your ride.

In the meantime, the path demanded all of your attention. Even under fresh snow, it was easy to follow the road. Thick forest covered this stretch, and there was nowhere to go but forward. Hopefully you wouldn’t miss your drive. Should luck bless you for the first time in a decade, you’d see your neighbors’ lights in the dark.

But you had miles to go, yet. And the footing was terrible.

Old snow, half-melted and refrozen, threatened to turn your ankle with every step. Staying upright took work. Every muscle joined the battle, from your toes to your shoulders. Your abs clenched, and your thighs soon shook from exertion. As cold as you were, sweat stuck your hair to your face. Your neck.

The wind turned the moisture to ice.

Pins and needles prickled under your clothes.

Worse, and worse, and worse.

But there was no choice, so you moved on. No one was coming, so you would go. Keep calm and carry on and all that noise.

You had tea at home. An electric heating blanket under heavy quilts. Dry clothes and fuzzy socks.

So, you walked.

One foot in front of the other. Wobbling. Trying to find safe footing.

You crashed to your knees, bracing for pain that didn’t come.

Fuck.

You were losing sensation in your extremities.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The fresh layer of snow swallowed your hands where you’d braced to catch yourself. It didn’t look right from your perspective. You hadn’t punched holes into the drift. You’d joined it. Flesh flowed into freeze, and it sucked the heat from your body. Hungry. Careless.

Physically shaking the image from your head, you rose. You pushed on. Slow and unsteady as your thoughts lost traction on the creeping ice.

It never seemed right that such an oppressive season made the world so bright. Even on a moonless night, the snow practically glowed. When you first moved to the mountain, you’d look out the window and marvel at how clearly you could see the world you couldn’t explore. The endless white always looked so inviting, but it kept you locked away, isolated.

Snow ate the color out of the world. That was why it sparkled so brightly in the sun, full of ingested prisms stolen from kinder seasons.

What colors, you wondered, would it digest out of you.

Once you were buried.

Lost to the white void falling without. Swelling within.

Everything felt damp. Warm. Your muscles went syrupy. You were your own personal swamp, and you panted, dropping your blanket. It was too heavy, too waterlogged anyway. You couldn’t carry that weight forever. It fell easily. All you had to do was let go.

Your feet turned, and you began to ascend. Uphill. That was correct, somehow.

Fuck.

You were on fire.

The snow was up to your knees and still falling. Maybe, if you just took a nap, you’d wait it out. Better to travel in the daylight, right?

No. Not quite right.

One arm hung out of your coat, and you couldn’t shake the second free. It clung to your wrist like a needy child, and you just wanted rid of it. Wanted to be free and finished and home.

Lights blazed, and it felt like dawn. Had you walked all night, or did you just look up?

The path split. Or you thought it did. The snow covered the way, but your instinct sniffed out the divide.

You wanted to be closer to the lights. Lights were good. Even though they hurt your head. They looked so pretty, flushing the snow gold. You imagined they’d paint you gold, too. A Midas-touched statue – pretty, lifeless, and cold.  

Snow always looked so soft. You’d felt cheated as a child when you discovered it was nothing like the fluffy duvet you imagined. But in a pinch, it was wonderful.

It held you, gathering you up as you sank. The flakes landing on your cheek didn’t melt anymore, and frigid works of art gathered on your eyelashes, slowly eating the lighthouse you’d followed home from the bright white dark.

-------------------------

“Fucking hell.”

Death had a British accent. Not bad. A shame you somehow disappointed him.

“Johnny! Get some towels. Clean shirt and sweats.”

You blinked up at Death, swimming through waves of unfamiliar sensations to get a glimpse of the end.

Really, you’d hoped for Death to wear a kinder shape – like in Sandman – but the grinning skull seemed appropriate. It was the rare case where the destination mattered more than the journey. Or the escort.

Being dead was exhausting. As curious as you were about Death’s face, the quiet void already had a deposit on your soul. Resting limp in the psychopomp’s arms, somehow you relaxed further. He was so much more solid. More real. Soon you’d melt between his fingers and rain into the underworld.

“She isn’t shivering.”

Dreams ate your mind. Time rose and faded like steam as strange hands prepared you for burial. Your grave was warm. The soil packed tight, wrapping around you as the first gnawing sense of dread woke with the agony in your hands. Roots squeezed around you, tightening as you writhed against the sting in your feet.

You did not rest in peace.

You’d fallen into hell. Your skin burned, your muscles seized, and a sharp scream of a moan shrieked through clenched teeth.

“Easy, easy.”

A broad palm pressed over your heart, hauling you back to a second pulse. Someone else’s words rustled over your hair. Someone else’s breath pushed someone else’s chest flush against your back. Their smell and shape surrounded you.

A someone. A living someone.

That finally reminded you of the need to wake.

To rise from death.

Every inch you climbed towards consciousness scorched you, and reality came in bursts of pain. Your fingertips felt like you’d clutched red-hot iron, and shivers wracked you like private earthquakes. Everything wanted to tear itself apart, escape the pain radiating from every other piece. If the stranger wasn’t holding you together, you’d shatter like your poor, ugly mug.

You had a body but no control.

The stranger shushed you, a second hand settling over the top of your head. Locking you in. Keeping you in your flesh. You thought he might stroke your hair like a cat’s fur, but nothing moved between you besides the heat seeping from his palm to your scalp.

If you had a choice, you’d go back to sleep, but you were too aware. Pain dared you to relax, running knives along the underside of your skin, threatening to stab you inside out with the next shudder.

And you didn’t know where you were – or who was cuddling you back to life.

Helpless as you were, you knew to be afraid.

“Johnny,” the chest behind you rumbled, “she’s coming to.”

Wrath caught on the name. It bit the hook and followed the line to the light so your eyes could flutter open. They were painfully dry, and the gathering tears offered some relief, but you recognized the mohawk over broad shoulders leaning through the doorway through the blur. Your restrained whimpers turned into a growl.

“Think she recognizes ya.”

“Aye.” Johnny approached, kneeling by the bed you found yourself in. His pretty face was all bent out of shape with apprehension. “How you feeling, hen?”

You wanted to shout at him. Or slap him. Both at once and more. Instead, your shaking tongue fumbled the words, and your arm flopped weakly under the quilt, thudding into the branch-like arm caging your chest.

Which meant –

Wait.

If Johnny was in front of you, you must be in his house. He lived alone. Except for a hulking giant in a skull mask.

Like he could read the fresh stiffness beneath your shivering, Ghost said, “Spotted you from the window. Had to get you dry and warm, but you’re safe. Body heat’s best at this stage. We’re both dressed, and if you can’t stand it, I’ll trade out for a fleet of hot water bottles.”

You struggled to pick up his words and put them in order. They bobbed through the snowmelt in your brain like so much flotsam, a murky sea you already worried would drown you. But you did it. You got it all. But it was a lot.

He was barely more than a stranger, and you found yourself in bed with him.

But a man so hesitant to show his face wouldn’t be eager to show more skin than necessary, and while it was hard to tell what fabric was clothing and what was bedding, nothing but cloth touched you. Except for the hand on your head. Which was fine, actually. It could be better than fine if you thought about it much longer.

How much did it cost such a reserved person to get so close? You were no better than a stranger to him, too.

He saw you in trouble and moved to help. Everything he said was practical. Reasonable. He’d probably saved your life.

You felt you understood Ghost. Maybe it was the confusion or the onset of a fever, but you got him. And he was so, so warm. You wanted to crack open that giant chest and burrow inside him like a tauntaun.

When you felt better, you’d make it up to him. You’d apologize for being a burden and make your imposition right. In the meantime, you didn’t want him to leave you alone with some shitty substitute.

You wriggled, trying to put your hand over his, but something was over your fingers, and you had to guesstimate. Maybe you patted his knuckles. Maybe you smacked his wrist. Hard to know. But you felt you made your point.

“S’fine.”

He shifted in response, settling in for the long-haul. “Good.”

You tried forcing yourself calm. Everything had a mind of its own, though, and you curled up tight, trying to preserve heat even when it was given freely. Ghost supported your new position, bending his knees to keep contact, spooning with purpose.

How far had your temperature dropped for you to be this miserable? Very. Dangerously. Fucking shit.

Johnny cleared his throat. “I could join? Help get you toasty?”

Though you were still in gods damned agony, you wouldn’t let Johnny Fucking MacTavish join you under the covers if he was the last thing between you and death. You’d already touched the door to Hades that evening, and he hadn’t been the one to bring you back.

You lashed out the only way you could.

“No.”

The first word you managed to say clearly. You sent it off with a scowl, daring the Scotsman to try you.

He practically jumped back from the bed, anxious expression washed clean in shock. You’d never told him no. Never drawn a boundary. Never shared your anger or hurt.

Well, you’d finally learned your lesson.

Fuck that man.

He wouldn’t be getting anything from you ever again, not even a clear conscience.

Ghost hummed, his thumb stroking over your temple. “Got you right pissed off, has he? What’s he done? He the reason you got caught in the storm?”

Nodding was easier than speaking. You’d said the most important part.

“Thought as much. You’re too well prepared. When you feel up to it, you can tell me what Johnny needs to set right, yeah? He’ll clean up his mess.”

Across the room, where he’d stumbled after your rejection, the man in question blanched. “I didn’t – I couldn’t – What did… Ah, Christ. ‘M so sorry, hen.”

“Plenty of time to talk later,” Ghost said, still fully felt and entirely invisible at your back. “Let her rest. When I’m confident she won’t choke, you can make us something warm to drink.”

Johnny accepted, nodding with big eyes. His shoulders rose to his ears as he turned on his heel and marched away, fists squeezed tight.

He’d only been out of the room for a minute when you heard something crash, and you jumped.

Ghost just hugged you tighter and sighed.

Eventually, you did sleep. It was a night for achieving the impossible, apparently. Ghost kept one hand on your chest, waking or sleeping, and as the daylight slowly burned away the icy mist in your head, you realized he was monitoring your heartbeat. Keeping his arm around your chest was better for your recovery, and you might not have reacted so calmly to a hand on your neck.

You still felt like shit.

“How bad was it?” you whispered.

Asking was a struggle, and not just because your lips cracked and burned around your voice. Staring doom in the face only scared you if you recognized it, and you were afraid to hear how close your choices had brought you to the point of no return. Words could hurt. Knowledge could hurt.

“Should’a taken you to a hospital,” Ghost murmured. “No way to get there in this weather.”

You closed your eyes, burying your face in the pillow. You did it in defiance of the windburn over your nose and cheeks. In defiance of your chapped lips. Dead people couldn’t feel pain, and it was hardly the worst you’d suffered through the night.

“Your shivering’s manageable now. Think you could drink something?”

Could and should.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll go tell Johnny. Stay here.”

You didn’t answer, but you swam all the way under the heavy quilts as his solid heat left you. With only your eyes peering over the blankets, you watched him – probably cold in his thin t-shirt and worn sweats – breeze across the room, quiet as his namesake. He had a lot of tattoos, a whole sleeve. You couldn’t catch all the shapes as he moved farther and farther away, but deathly themes curled like gun smoke and curses up from his wrist, towards his heart.

Once you were alone, you examined yourself under the covers. There were socks over your hands, impromptu mittens. You’d worry about any horror beneath them later. You wore a loose tee you’d seen on Johnny when he was resting up, staying comfortable as he nursed his cold. The gym shorts they’d dressed you in were bunched up where the drawstring fought to draw them into a smaller size, and the fabric would fall to your knees if you stood. Maybe farther.

They’d dressed you in a piece of each man’s wardrobe, and the embarrassed heat creeping up your neck was almost as warm as Ghost.

But you wouldn’t read between the lines. There were no lines. They’d saved your life and carefully explained their actions. It didn’t mean anything else.

They were only being neighborly.

[amememightywarrior]

Food in Dawntrail

Gonna go ahead and share my thoughts on it as posted on twitter, excuse the format!

I found the prevalence of food in DT's MSQ very interesting. In a lot of cultures, food and food-sharing are acts of love both familial and neighborly. It also symbolized a desire to reach out and understand one another, from xibruq pibil to tacos to ice cream to weird grapes.

Our first encounter with food in DT is when Wuk Lamat wants to give us some tacos, but then BJJ smashes them carelessly, a sign that he is rejecting sharing and love

During the lay of repast, which is ALL about food, we learn a lot about the symbolism of meals and food and culture. It's great. 

Zoraal Ja and Bakool Ja Ja are teamed up and shown to not understand or care about food and sharing despite the BLATANT emphasis on it in the trial.

More subtle stuff that isn't called out is the way food is raised - like the Crystarium, where wandering around can reveal the importance, if you wander around DT you can find an example of what's called the three sisters method of farming.

For those unfamiliar with this system, it's actually a very culturally important method of farming in the americas where 3 staple crops, maize, squash, and beans, are grown together in a harmonious fashion. and i mean TOGETHER.

The maize, which grows tall and strong, provides support for the beanstalks which curl around it and provide stabilization both physically and nutritionally. At their feet grows the ground-covering squash which shades the soil, keeping it moist and preventing weeds.

The next major time we learn of food and agriculture is in heritage found, where we see people preserving real food as an act of culture more than anything else, showing the resilience of culture and the spirit of sharing in even the most lightning riddled situations.

After that it gets interesting. The concept of food in S9 is abstracted into the absurd (the grapes??? help), but they still share the food. More than that, it's a SPECTATOR sport, seeing WoL and Wuk Lamat eat. If you've ever been to a dinner with a family of a different culture, you will know the experience of tasting a new cuisine for the first time, and people asking you what you think of it. They share their culture with you and hope you approve. It's the sharing of joy, and it's the same as when you eat in S9.

Then we're REALLY challenged. We enter living memory and find the inhabitants feasting on the mere idea of food. They share with us as well, giving us popcorn. Did you lie and say it was great? Did you speak the truth of your tastebuds and reject the popcorn?

The food in living memory is tasteless to us, the only real ones in the place. But the act of sharing, that was the real important part. And so perhaps if WoL lied, it was not to spare feelings, but to show that yes, they were sharing in joy and culture.

Thus introduced, we are hit with that ice cream. We know it tastes of nothing, but we give it to Krile and her parents to share. Krile knows it doesn't taste like anything, and she struggles. But G'raha zips in with his own, to make her laugh and help her understand the joy.

The way each character reacts to food within DT is symbolic and shows a bit of their own perspectives. Someone who's very out on the edges, Estinien, is also someone who has embraced food very heavily after being freed from Nidhogg. He runs around eating everything in sight now.

And of course we also have the cornservant, who wants to feed everyone. I haven't actually done that quest line yet but I can already tell you what's at the heart of it XD

A lot of this we all know, I'm just calling it out specifically because it was beautifully done in DT.

Oh, before I forget: Otis and Gulool Ja

Otis, despite being, er...mechanical, has been feeding Gulool Ja. It is a familial act, feeding and helping this child grow despite zero relation.

is it just another fetch quest? Another shared meal of many shared meals in the field? Or is it asking us to look at this meal in the context of all that came before it?

What does it mean to love and care for one another? Otis shows it by being there and feeding Gulool Ja.

It contrasts with two other parties: Cahciuna's group, and Zoraal Ja.

Zoraal Ja does nothing. He does not feed his child. Abandoned him outright. ZJ rejects family, love, and sharing.

Cahciuna's group is trying really hard to take care of him, and he does allow it because they keep finding and taking him home. But why does he run away to eat with Otis? Cahciuna's response to realizing he WANTS to leave is to allow it instead of insisting.

I find that rather mysterious but I think it shows Gulool Ja prefers organic sharing, not S9 where everything is simply handed to him. Hopefully we see more of him in the future so we can learn wtf is up with this little blue-scaled cutie.

Food takes a background role in a lot of stories but DT took it, explained it, and then challenged our understanding by taking away the most talked about component, stripping away flavor to ask us what the point of food-sharing really is and how it reflects ourselves & our culture.

We've seen a lot of these themes before - ARR used to have a whole thing about feeding the soldiers before the assault on the garlean strongholds, SHB had the infamous rhon ron food stand scene, etc

we just got it called out repeatedly and the concept gently deconstructed for us in DT. 

So. what does the act of food-sharing mean to you? What does it mean to your WoL? How did you see the Lay of Repast? What did you think of the popcorn?

[mariacallous]

With Donald Trump’s election win fueling fresh speculation over the prospects for a negotiated settlement to the Russo-Ukrainian War, Russian President Vladimir Putin has once again underlined his insistence on Ukrainian neutrality. “If there is no neutrality, it is difficult to imagine any good-neighborly relations between Russia and Ukraine,” he commented on November 7 in Sochi.

This is nothing new. Since the eve of the full-scale invasion, the Kremlin has been consistent in its calls for permanent Ukrainian neutrality. Neutral status was a key condition set out by the Kremlin during the abortive peace talks that took place in the first weeks of the war. It once again featured prominently when Putin laid out an updated peace proposal in June 2024.

Many in the international community regard Putin’s push for a neutral Ukraine as by far his most reasonable demand. Indeed, some have even accused NATO of provoking the current war by expanding into Russia’s traditional sphere of influence since 1991 and deepening cooperation with Ukraine. They argue that if Ukraine can be kept in geopolitical no-man’s-land, Russia will be placated.

Such thinking is likely to feature prominently as the debate continues to unfold in the coming months over the terms of a future peace deal. While Trump has yet to outline his plans for a possible settlement, unconfirmed reports suggest that a twenty-year freeze on Ukraine’s NATO membership aspirations is under consideration. This would be a costly blunder. Imposing neutrality on Ukraine will not bring about a durable peace in Europe. On the contrary, it would leave Ukraine at Putin’s mercy and set the stage for a new Russian invasion.

Ukrainians have already learned the hard way that neutrality does not protect them against Russian aggression. The country officially embraced non-aligned status during the 2010-2014 presidency of Viktor Yanukovych, but this didn’t prevent Moscow from seeking to reassert full control over Ukraine. Initially, Russia’s efforts focused on orchestrating Ukraine’s economic reintegration through membership of the Moscow-led Eurasian Economic Union. When this sparked a popular backlash that led to the fall of the Yanukovych regime, Putin opted to use force and began the military invasion of Ukraine.

Ever since the start of Russia’s attack on Ukraine in spring 2014, Putin has sought to justify Russian aggression by pointing to the looming danger of Ukrainian NATO membership. In reality, however, Ukraine has never looked like progressing toward the distant goal of joining the alliance. For the past decade, NATO leaders have refused to provide Kyiv with an invitation and have instead limited themselves to vague talk of Ukraine’s “irreversible” path toward future membership. Putin is well aware of this, but has chosen to wildly exaggerate Ukraine’s NATO prospects in order to strengthen his own bogus justifications.

Putin’s complaints regarding NATO enlargement are equally dubious. Indeed, his own actions since early 2022 indicate that Putin himself does not actually believe that the alliance poses a genuine security threat to Russia. Instead, he merely exploits the NATO issue as a convenient smokescreen for Russia’s expansionist foreign policy.

Tellingly, when Finland and Sweden responded to the 2022 Russian invasion of Ukraine by announcing plans to abandon decades of neutrality and join NATO, Putin was quick to declare that Russia had “no problem” with the move. This evident indifference was particularly striking, given that Finnish NATO membership has more than doubled Russia’s NATO border while Sweden’s accession has transformed the Baltic Sea into a NATO lake. Over the past two-and-a-half years, Putin has continued to demonstrate his almost complete lack of concern over NATO’s Nordic enlargement by withdrawing the vast majority of Russian troops from the Finnish border and leaving the area largely undefended.

Putin obviously understands perfectly well that NATO is not a threat to Russia itself, and sees no need to guard against a NATO invasion that he knows will never come. While Putin’s resentment over the expanding NATO presence on his borders is real enough, he only really objects when the alliance prevents Russia from bullying its neighbors. In other words, Putin’s opposition to Ukraine’s NATO aspirations has nothing to do with legitimate security concerns. Instead, it confirms that his ultimate goal is the destruction of Ukrainian statehood.

For years, Putin has made no secret of his belief that the emergence of an independent Ukraine is an historical mistake and a symbol of modern Russia’s retreat from empire. He has repeatedly claimed that Ukraine is not a “real country,” and is fond of declaring that Ukrainians are actually Russians (“one people”). In July 2021, Putin even published an entire essay arguing against the legitimacy of an independent Ukrainian state.

Since the start of the full-scale invasion, it has become increasingly apparent that Putin’s ultimate goal is not Ukraine’s neutrality but Ukraine’s destruction. The Kremlin propaganda machine has portrayed Ukraine as an intolerable “anti-Russia,” and has promoted the idea that Ukraine’s continued existence is incompatible with Russian security. Meanwhile, Putin has compared his invasion to eighteenth century Russian ruler Peter the Great’s imperial conquests, and has repeatedly claimed to be “returning” historically Russian lands.

Putin’s imperialistic outbursts must be taken seriously. Throughout occupied Ukraine, his soldiers and administrators are already imposing a reign of terror that directly echoes the criminal logic of his imperial fantasies. Millions have been displaced, with thousands more simply vanishing into a vast network of camps and prisons. Those who remain face policies of relentless Russification and the suppression of all things Ukrainian. Adults must accept Russian citizenship in order to access basic services, while children are forced to undergo indoctrination in schools teaching a new Kremlin curriculum.

The crimes currently taking place in Russian-occupied Ukraine are a clear indication of what awaits the rest of the country if Putin succeeds. Despite suffering multiple military setbacks, he remains fully committed to his maximalist goals of ending Ukrainian independence and erasing Ukrainian identity.

Furthermore, since 2022 Putin has demonstrated that he is prepared to wait as long as it takes in order to overcome Ukrainian resistance, and is ready to pay almost any price to achieve his imperial ambitions. Imposing neutrality on Ukraine in such circumstances would be akin to condemning the country to a slow but certain death.

Any peace process that fails to provide Ukraine with credible long-term security guarantees is doomed to fail. Acquiescing to Putin’s demands for a neutral Ukraine may provide some short-term relief from the menace of an expansionist Russia, but this would ultimately lead to more war and the likely collapse of the current global security order. There is simply no plausible argument for insisting on Ukrainian neutrality other than a desire to leave the country defenseless and at Russia’s mercy.

Peace will only come once Putin has finally been forced to accept Ukraine’s right to exist as an independent country and as a member of the democratic world. Naturally, this includes the right to choose security alliances. It is absurd to prioritize Russia’s insincere security concerns over Ukraine’s very real fears of national annihilation. Instead, if serious negotiations do begin in the coming months, Ukrainian security must be the number one priority. Until Ukraine is secure, Europe will remain insecure and the threat of Russian imperialism will continue to loom over the continent.

[goqmir]

in my dream i imagined a world in which the most popular tv show in america was a drama/dark comedy about several neighborly families now vying for scraps of sustenance in a bloodborne-esque apocalyptic city where they have all died and gone to a torturous underworld. and the main character is the dork nobody really liked in any family who arbitrarily escaped death by hiding his soul in that of an automaton.

this tv show was the result of a brand deal where the artist Drake got really into painting somewhat gothic portraits of imagined characters during the 2020 lockdown. Wal-Mart offered Drake an exclusivity deal to sell prints of these paintings that included a personal studio, and Drake requested for his studio a hole so deep in the earth that they can use magnets to make the canvasses have zero gravity. americans lapped that shit up and Wal-Mart began releasing ads of Drake in his dark and cavernous underground warehouselike studio where he would paint mildly gothic portraits on floating canvasses held down to the floor and walls by a series of trusses from Roblox and cables from Teardown. these portraits were astoundingly popular and a similarly successful TV show was produced by Wal-Mart using the characters Drake would paint.

during the dream, I lived this TV show through the eyes of the twink main character. I escaped from the underworld pits by hiding in the body of a Wizard101 wooden automaton, and began wandering the streets of the gothic city it took place in, meeting still-alive members of the group of families the portraits depicted. A little before my death, tragedy struck the families and they had a falling out. During my dreams i had to watch all of these tragedies in grim detail, which I depicted as fairly funny in my head to the average american but like. i never really found death or suffering that funny even if a character dies by a series of slapstick events. so it kind of just sucked for me to have to bear witness to it.

every time a new character would appear, the original Drake portrait depicting them would be shown on screen. every character had the name of a Universes Beyond Magic: the Gathering card-- Graham O'Brien, Rosie Cotton, that sort of thing, even though they weren't related to the characters.

there was a segment where i could choose to revive anyone from the underworld that wanted to leave, and I saw the cartoon shadow of a cute babe from behind a boat winking at me and flirting with me. I chose her cuz i was like woahhh i love women but when I revived her I realized it was actually Evie Frye, my rival in life who was close to me as a child but drifted apart from me after witnessing the comedically gruesome death of her father. the dream then played out that death in a flashback sequence, which was sickening enough to me that it woke me up. and then I spent 30 minutes writing this post and that's been my morning so far.

[yourneighborlyweirdo]

Tarot 🤝🏼 Shifting

This isn’t really a post that I usually make with all the big headings and special symbols, and that’s because I just got my nails done (love them btw) and I just popped an advil so I’m hella tired, but I just wanted to put this out there…

I usually use my tarot deck to ask a big main question I have, and then once it’s answered I put my deck away until I need it again, (which there’s nothing wrong with that) but I just did an actual reading which I haven’t done in a while and I asked multiple questions leading into other questions, like “What do you need to tell me?” “What is something I need to improve on in my journey?” “What can I do to start doing that thing to improve?” And etc, and instead of pulling only one card each question I got 2-4 which gave me a clearer answer on my questions, and it helped me connect the dots a lot more.

Just made this post to say,

• If you have a tarot deck, and you usually barely do any readings, I would recommend you start doing it more often because I can’t stress the amount of clarity I got because I only ever pull one card for one simple question and feel confused because I don’t see why the card answers my question, so when I asked more smaller and simplified questions leading into eachother, it helped me understand a lot more!

• If your a witch/spiritual person (like me) who’s also into shifting, I highly recommend to start intertwining them into each other instead of treating it like they are separate things (they are separate but go under the same category/umbrella for Spiritual stuff)

• Use your divination tools (like your tarot deck if you have one) more often because they are so so useful.

• This reminded me that everyone’s journey is different because everyone is different so getting advice personalized for me and myself made me feel so much better because now I know how I can improve on certain things!

Sorry if this post is annoying or going over shit everyone already knows, I just wanted to share that when I did this reading I got so much clarity and advice and I realized what I was doing wrong, what I was missing, what I can do to improve, and so much more, and I might just make a big long post going over this because I got some advice I’ve known before but it was explained to me in which a way helps me understand a lot better (because I asked MY tarot cards about MY journey) and yeah. Highly recommend tarot cards for divination, especially shifting related.

Shifting is different for everyone. Everyone’s spiritual journey is different. Remember that, because like many, I keep forgetting.

Sincerely,

Your Neighborly Weirdo

[profoundgladiatorbarbarian]

Disney kid siblings

Peter pan Liddell and Alice Pleasance Liddell

Peter PAN and Alice in my version are based off of Come away version where they are siblings.If you watch the movie you might understand more, But in my a u it's also combined with a disney version, Where are they are Twins who after having a lot of adventures in neverland in wonderland start a new adventure at Auradon prep, But technically speaking they're many years old , However, they are about 13. No, because time runs different in wonderland and neverland

Alice- Alice is a thirteen year old adventurous, And curious Girl, Who found the secret world of wonderland, But in the aftermath when the queen of hearts Had chased her out, Alice Went back to Her world of england, But became bored, Of the same old same old especially now that she was living with her sister, So alice decided to go back to wonderland, and live there permanently. It was a tough decision having to leave her family.But in the end she She decided it was for the best, Since her family was in financial trouble and if she left, maybe it would give them More of a boost to get So thus she'd be got her new life in wonderland, However there was one thing she missed most of all and that was her older twin brother peter pan, Whom she was inseparable with.

Peter pan- Peter pan, Was always a playful person, However there came a time When He lost His older brother, Whom he was playing with and accidentally made him fall into the water causing him to drown and get electrocuted by an Unexpected storm In the water. After that day peter pan was never the same and tried to act more grown up, As a way to mask his pain. Alice Was quite side about her brother's death, But was even more worried for peter pan, Who is starting to become emotionless, But one day will peter pan was at the markets, He came a Cross A flying Whisp, That led him into the forest, And in the forest the wisp turned into a Female shape and introduce yourself as tinkerbell peter pan's, She said that she could bring him away from all The drama and problems going on with him at home, If he took her hand and followed her to a place called neverland, Where time never moved and you could stay young forever. Peter pan was hesitant about this, But then remembering All that was going on With his family being in debt, His brother dead, And some of their own family members , turning against his parents, And some of their own family members, turning against his parents He decided it was for the best that he leaves, So that may be his family can start afresh, So he agreed and flew off with Tinkerbell to neverland, And as the years passed by , peter pan kept bringing, Much wealth back to his family from neverland, So that they would never be poor, The only thing he regretted was never saying goodbye to his Twin sister Alice.

Many years had passed and alice and Peter PAN's parents had long passed Leaving leaving their older sister lorena to be the new owner of the house, She grew old and time as well with Yvonne. Alice and Peter's younger brother max's becoming adult Before them, But fast-forwarding to 2021 Alice, Having explored Almost all of wonderland, Was curious if she was Curious if she was able to go back to her home of london, And decided To crawl out of the rabbit hole To see what was happening above. When she crawled out The Old Neighborly House where she lived was replaced with a beautiful mansion, She couldn't even believe it herself and then she heard from the sky A familiar sound. It was Peter PAN Calling to her, And thus the twins were reunited, Two years had passed The 2 Are now attending Arudon prep with their significant others.

Winifred darling is the niece of Anita darling, based off of the 2021 Cruella movie, And is in no way related to Wendy darling Who long passed away. Winifred is now the new love interest of Peter PAN, With her siblings, always following her on adventures through neverland.

Amandla Darling, Is the oldest Sibling, and Was once, A girl in wonderland herself, Like alice but in a different part, the looking glass, And she is also the future storyteller Of Alice and Peter pan's stories.

Winifred darling Is the second oldest And is based off of wendy darling a bit, But is more nerdy, And as a mixture of nurturing, And feminine Strength, And is willing to fight any pirates, Or be a big sister figure to any lost boy. She is Very close with her younger brother Kingston, But it's also enemies with him Seeing him as a intellectual rival with her in school, And the two often fights over who's smarter.

Kingston is the oldest boy and the third born, And just like his older sister is a huge nerd, But prides itself on it and see himself as the smartest in the family, Which Always gets under his sister skin, Matter of fact he mostly does it for the entertainment about her reactions, However as siblings they are still very close. People sometimes think he's a bit cowardly But in reality he can be brave and will stand up to Evan The scariest pirates like captain hook, Matter of fact, the only thing he and his sister are afraid of is their younger brother mkhosini Who, Let's just say Acts like the evil child in the family He's also a bit shy around tiger Lily's sister katawasisiw Whom he saved one time When she was kidnapped by captain hook, And saved her from nearly getting her head cut off by A pirates, In return she gave him a big kiss like the scene in the peter pan movie of 2003, And he started developing feelings for her and her intern, And the two do get along pretty well, And like to solve mysteries in the book of neverland which was a gift from the indigenous tribe of neverland given to Kingston That holds all the secrets and mysteries and powerful forceshe didn't within never land, Something that would be quite useful to captain hook who constantly tries to steal it.

mkhosini Is the last born, Baby brother of the family, A k a the evil child, And he takes this job with pride. He isn't necessarily manipulative, Or a type of sibling who blackmails his older siblings, But instead will physically force them to do things that he's really passionate about, And this is kind of help the family, But it's also made Winifred and kingston Fear him the most because, Of what he's Capable of doing Even in the dark, And He uses Two his advantage, His older siblings are Looking After him, Using his Strategies sort of butts to make them Fear him so much that they can't even tell him no, But he's not all Evil, He does look up to Peter PAN As an older brother figure which Kind of Makes kingston jealous, But also slightly relieved to that his brother is off his back, But also scared for peter pan's sake, And at the end of the day mkhosini It's just a very energetic Person, With a bit of a violent streak with his siblings, But he still love them.

Christopher Robin and the Derby Robin

Mowgli, Bala, Lali, Ranjan

Dipper and Mabel pines.

Violet, Dash, and Jackjack incredibles

Melody, Eros, And Erica

Marco and mariposa diaz

Miguel And Socorro Rivera.

lampwick and Bella

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Neighborly (Part 3/Ending)

mdni

Masterlist

Soap x reader x Ghost

Summary: You didn't know hate until Johnny MacTavish. (Or a really big build-up to cuddles and smut).

Warnings: SMUT, vaguely dom Ghost, unrealistic recovery time from near death experience/hypothermia, cuddling for medical reasons, implied medically-related stripping, implied anxiety disorder/depressive disorder, self-isolation, language, incredibly shitty communication and social competence.

The next day, Ghost had you write a list of things you needed from home. He assured you Johnny wouldn’t be stepping foot in your place, but that did leave you on your own with the Scotsman while the giant lumbered through the snow to pack an overnight bag on your behalf.

Your extremities still had fits of unpleasant tingles, but when Ghost examined your hands and feet, he assured you there shouldn’t be permanent damage. First degree frost bite at worst. He praised your choice in winter boots, thick socks, and heavy mittens.

You’d asked how he knew.

“Had some experience. Nothing to worry about. Trust me.”

Instantly flustered, you’d looked down at the huge socks over your hands, fighting away the question of which man they belonged to, and assured him you did. Stupid, since you barely knew him, but you did, and much more than you should.

It didn’t matter if the man was handsome under that mask or ugly as sin. His voice did things to you. It made you want to sin so much he looked like an angel. And the way he handled you in bed, if only platonically, woke your libido from hibernation. Which was un-fucking-fortunate, all things considered. You’d be a horrible lay at the moment with your chapped skin and lingering exhaustion.

Besides, your neighbors were definitely in a relationship.

As you dozed after a cup of sugary tea, Ghost stepped away to speak with Johnny. You could see through the open door when the big man seized his partner by the back of the neck, leaning forehead-to-forehead as he rumbled something in that intoxicating voice. The mask didn’t come off, but you’d definitely spied a tongue stretching the knit to stab into Johnny’s mouth. Hands went to waists, drifted to asses, displayed affection they probably didn’t realize was so public.

You tried very hard to actually go to sleep after that. It wasn’t like you’d meant to creep on them. And they were the ones who chose to make out in front the invalid’s open damn door.

But it put your thoughts in a tailspin, and everything overwhelmed you. A near death experience preceded by robbery and car problems made for a long day. Waking up in your neighbor’s boyfriend’s arms and realizing they’d seen you naked took the knot of emotions and twisted. Then there was the fact that Ghost was likely elbow deep in your underwear drawer – again for platonic reasons – and it wound you up in the worst way. You were a fucking mess. A wad of feelings without an outlet.

You needed to get off and have a good cry. Either or both. And you weren’t in a position to have either.

When you’d suggested going home, Ghost shut you down before you even finished the thought.

“We’ll take care of you. Owe you, yeah? Besides, you’re still recovering.”

So, you wrote the damn list, asking for your comfy clothes, your toothbrush, phone charger, and other necessities. You resisted asking for your favorite throw blanket or the heavy, knitted monstrosity you tried knitting a few years back that was almost a sweater. Nothing you loved was safe around Johnny, and you didn’t want to be a burden, anyway.

Fuck.

Right.

You were a burden.

When you felt a bit better, you’d handle the empty mugs on the nightstand. What else could you clean? Efficient as Ghost was, he was babysitting for two adults. There must be a mess to clean, laundry to fold, something.

You’d make it right. When you’d put some distance between your waking thoughts and death’s shadow.

Trying to think your way out of the lingering pain with your thighs clenched and your glare drilling into the far wall, you almost managed to dissociate for a beat.

Until he knocked.

“Hey.”

Fucking Johnny.

You rolled over, glowering with the blankets up to your nose. Ghost should hurry and come back.

“’M so sorry, hen.” Failing to take the hint, Johnny inched into the room. His folded arms and heavy frown left him looking severe. The boyish illusion was missing. He was all bulging muscles, faint scars, and dog tags.

You’d wondered more than once if he was military. If he was, you’d bet anything Ghost was, too.

“I almost died,” you mumbled, speaking through the blankets. “I would’ve helped with whatever you needed if you’d fucking asked.”

His eyes snapped shut. His head dropped. Deep breaths lifted his shoulders, and he looked like he was in genuine pain.

Good. That made two of you.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Aye.”

“You’re a jerk.”

“Aye.”

“You almost got me killed.”

“Aye.” Eyes wide, hands pressed to the foot of the bed, he towered over you, bubbling over. “I’ll make it up to you. Whatever it takes.”

He was practically panting, trying to escape his guilt. Just one more thing he wanted from you: absolution. A knight seeking a quest of atonement.

If he could take away the memories of betrayal and isolation as you felt your mind break and your body fail, that would work. You almost found enough spite in your heart to say it.

“I thought we were friends.” Half confession, half accusation.

“We are, bonnie, I swear –”

“No, we’re not.”

He clenched the blankets, white-knuckled with wet eyes that promised rain.

“Bonnie –”

“Stand down, Soap.”

You both turned to find Ghost peering in from the hall. He held a duffel bag, lightly dusted in snow that hadn’t quite stopped falling. Doordash had arrived with your order.

He set the bag on the end of the bed, nudging Johnny aside and nodding towards the open door. Johnny got the message, slinking out with his tail between his legs.

“Brought your things. Feel up to a shower? It would probably help at this stage. I’ll set out some towels for you.”

“Thanks.” You ignored Johnny, grateful for the escape Ghost offered from both the conversation and the room. “That sounds great.”

“I’ll get things sorted, then.”

He left you to choose your things from the bag, disappearing into the ensuite you had yet to explore. You got what you needed. Toiletries. Robe. Toothbrush. Just the basics. You’d address your hair later. And… everything else, really. You weren’t ready to see your clothes sitting folded in a tidy pile on your neighbors’ bathroom counter, even less so on their bed.

Ghost reappeared, and he pointed out the towels he’d prepared. “Assume your shower’s like ours.”

“Probably. Thanks.” Again. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“Take your time.”

A nice sentiment, but you really couldn’t. You practically jumped out of your borrowed clothes as the water heated, and you got in when it was just north of tepid. You would not use all their hot water. By now, they had to be running on generator power. The power always went out for a day or two when the big one hit. All it took was one tree.

Still, once the sweat and stress-stink washed off, your hand lingered over your chest, an echo of your host’s. He hadn’t gotten frisky. He’d been entirely respectful. But if his hand had strayed even a little…

Or a lot.

Shit. Fuck. No.

You could not get off in your neighbors’ shower. That was out of the question. Even if they didn’t hear you, it was… rude.

Your core ached, stirred from passive aggression to full on fit by the water and your overactive imagination.

Enough. You were clean. You needed to stop.

So you finished your shower (and nothing else) in record time. You wrapped yourself in your robe, wondering if Ghost had packed any sports bras comfortable enough to sleep in.

Both men were waiting for you when you emerged.

“Uh…” Were you supposed to get dressed in the bathroom? Shit. You should’ve…

“Thought it was about time you got that apology,” Ghost said. He stepped closer. His fingertips brushed over the back of your hand, conjuring goosebumps like magic. “You’re cold again.”

“I’m fine.”

“Oh, aye.” Johnny winked. Caught himself. Cleared his throat. “Really am sorry. Wanna prove it. First step towards reparations, aye?”

He inched closer as he spoke, and Ghost stepped back to give him space. You held your ground, but only out of confusion. You technically had more skin covered than you had since they rescued you, but you were hyper aware of the loose knot holding the robe closed.

“What did you have in mind?”

Tea? A year’s subscription to a meal delivery service? A note?

His eyes flicked to your lips. “Thought I could warm you up.”

Your brain sputtered. It even made a sound like your engine had when it ran out of gas.

“I don’t think I understand.”

“I think you do.”

He wasn’t touching you. Yet. But his breath fanned over your lips. His body heat reached through your robe.

His partner was in the fucking room. “You’re in a relationship.”

“Already discussed it.”

You turned to Ghost, shocked, but he was relaxed. Almost casual about his boyfriend seducing the neighbor in his bedroom.

“We both like ya, bonnie,” Johnny whispered in your ear.

You shivered.

It sounded like such a bad idea.

But you wanted it. You wanted a real apology, and a reason to forget it all ever happened.

“How about it?” Johnny was hovering. Waiting for the green light. “Let us make you feel good?”

One more time, you looked to Ghost. You had to be sure. You wanted his permission. His confirmation. He nodded. So did you.

With one hand on your cheek, drawing your attention back to him, and one on the back of your neck, your neighbor pressed you into a kiss. There was no demure pecking. No sweet warm-up. Lips, tongue, and teeth leapt into the fray at the first trumpet blast.

A gasp gave him a window of opportunity, and soon you were eagerly kissing him back, yanking on his stupid mohawk for vengeance and a pitiful attempt at control.

Johnny licked a moan out of your mouth. He scoured your whimpers clean, gulping them down with a happy rumble.

“The best apologies are given on your knees, don’t you think Johnny?”

A silent exchange passed between the men, and Johnny was all smiles.

“Couldn’t agree more. Here, sit down, pretty girl.” He arranged you on the edge of the bed, dropping to his knees to keep the kisses coming. He plucked the robe’s knot free and tugged it open. His lips stayed on yours as fabric fell away from your shoulders, legs, and chest, pooling around your wrists. There was no time for the usual, momentary panic of finding yourself naked for the first time with a new romantic partner.

One more peck, and a whispered, “Lie back, bonnie.” And he was working down your sternum, pushing your knees apart. “Gonnae give you an apology you never forget.”

The apology came letter by letter, spelled through your folds. The S snaked around your entrance, looping over your clit. The O stayed there, spinning around your bud. The Rs wandered, following the O’s path before tracing each side of your entrance. The Y started at your base and swept up, teasing either side of your clit in turns.

He said it over and over again. The clever rhythm had him smiling against you as you tugged at his mohawk, trying to chase each sensation. But his hands were strong, and he kept you spread and stationary. At the mercy of his repentance.

The Os never circled long enough, and his tongue dipped inside just enough to remind you how much you ached for more on every Y.

It was driving you crazy, and tears of frustration gathered, blurring his self-satisfied gaze. You’d had it with him. Even when he went down on you, he took his own pleasure first, playing games you had no spoons left to enjoy. You wanted him to take care of you like he’d promised. You wanted to lose yourself. Wanted to feel desired. Wanted to feel good.

Your whining plea didn’t sound at all sexy to your own ears, but the way the tongue shook with suppressed laughter between your legs proved someone was having a good time.

Solid heat you’d learned to recognize in your sleep slipped up behind you. Long, thick fingers petted back your sweaty hair, and a hand pulled you back, urging you to relax into a solid chest. Ghost, once again coming your rescue.

“Be good, Johnny,” he rumbled. “Stop teasing.”

Eyes glinting, your tormentor’s face appeared. He licked his lips with a wolf’s fervor, eyes flashing from yours to Ghost’s.

“Yes, sir.” His voice had gone rough. Deep. You shuddered, and he squeezed your thighs. “Mind givin’ me a hand, LT?”

Ghost huffed, almost a dry laugh, and his hands left you. You had a mind to complain again, but then his grip appeared under your knees, lifting and spreading even farther than Johnny wheedled earlier. You were obscene. You were desperate.

“You doing alright? Let us make you feel better. Give Johnny the chance to start paying you back for all the trouble he’s caused, yeah?”

One hand clamped onto his arm, unsure whether you planned to push it away or simply cling on. As you vacillated, Johnny craned forward, blew on you, and you spasmed. Your free hand jumped back to Ghost’s balaclava, and you knew what you wanted.

“Yeah. I’m alright. Please.”

“You heard the woman.”

“Happy to serve.” Johnny grinned, nearly feral, and lunged forward with fresh determination.

Now free, his fingers pulled you open, giving him better access to the mess he’d made with all his teasing. His tongue pressed hard, spearing deep as it could reach. It worked relentlessly, trying to scoop out every last drop, but the slick only grew, and he returned to your clit.

Ghost held you at an angle that defied your attempts to ride Johnny’s face, and you turned into a twitching, writhing mass in his lap. When his partner started suckling your bud, you shrieked, and Ghost crooned. His thumbs worked circles in your flesh, soothing the edge of delirium rising with your pleasure.

“Good girl. There you go. Finally letting us take care of you.”

A finger pressed inside, petting and curling as it hunted for the right spot. Every muscle rolled, trying to participate, to join the dance, and then Johnny found what he was looking for, and you screamed.

He’d tormented you so long. You didn’t have a chance to give a warning or brace for the snap. Your orgasm practically exploded, and for a minute you couldn’t even breathe. Everything froze, trying to catch and keep the high as your vision went white and your ears rang. Your thoughts ran slow and thick, like honey in winter, just soft enough for Ghost’s words to penetrate.

“How you feelin’? Rung out or ready for more?”

What a stupid question. Appreciated, but stupid. You’d ask for more until your voice gave out.

You consciously, carefully unclenched your fingers from his mask, from his sleeve. He still held you open, shivering and bare apart from Johnny’s face, still pressing slow kisses with tongue and teeth anywhere he was tempted to taste. Glimmers of firelight caught in the arousal smeared over his cheeks.

“More.”

Johnny muttered something very Scottish you couldn’t quite make out through the fading white noise in your head. But your eyes worked perfectly well, and he put on a show, yanking off his shirt, showing off like he used to when he shoveled the drive.

“Tell her, Johnny,” Ghost prompted. “Give her everything you’ve been thinking since you moved in here.”

“Fuck.” The Scotsman worked his belt free as talked, staring at you. His eyes roved, chasing the paths his tongue had traveled, rising to your heaving chest, to your face, so close to his LT’s commanding gaze. “Heard the neighbor was a hermit. Expected – doesnae matter. Prettiest hermit I’d ever fuckin’ seen. Showin’ up with biscuits and makin’ friendly.” The belt swished free from its loops and clattered to the ground. “Had me graspin’ after my manners with one look. An' after I tried catchin’ your eye in the snow, you took care of me an all.” He popped his button free. The zipper went down. “Wanted to bring ya inside and make things cozy. Had to wait for Ghost. Had to let ‘im see ya. Let him understand.” His hand slipped under his clothes, bringing a swollen red tip peeking over the elastic of his underwear.

“Should’a heard him on the phone,” Ghost murmured in your ear as Johnny pushed down his remaining clothes, already hard and weeping for you. “Thought he was gonna come to just the thought of you some nights. Started giving me ideas before I even had a chance to thank you for minding him.”

Naked, practically glowing in the fire, Johnny swooped down for a kiss. He squeezed a breast, thumbing the nipple relentlessly until you broke for air. Everything about him hummed with energy. A livewire sparking over the street. “Wanna fuck you. Please? Please let me fuck you, bonnie. Sweetest little cunt I’ve ever had. Please?”

Standing where he was, and held as you were, his dick rubbed against you as he spoke.

You were going to combust, and you’d enjoy every fucking second of it. All thoughts of snow and ice had melted. Everything had turned to steam.

“Yes.” He’d dived to work a hickey into your neck during your brief hesitation, and you fought to even whisper your answer. “Please.”

He lined up, rocking shallowly once, twice, and pushing home in a long, burning stroke. You yelped, and he moaned, both going still until the sting had passed. By the time you nodded your permission, he had his hands on your hips, trembling with need.

He fucked you like he was dying. Like you were his last meal and the only lifeline thrown in a storm. It was months of yearning, months of confusion and false starts and greedy hunger that spilled over and burned you like hot wax. There was no shelter – not that you wanted any – and you once again seized Ghost’s arms because they were the only fucking thing he’d let you reach. They would take care of you. You weren’t allowed to do any of the work. Not in that bed. Not that night.

Johnny keened, huffing and growling and whimpering as he went faster and faster. He brought you so far. So close. Just a little more.

But not enough.

His hips stuttered, his head bowed, and his warm release splashed out.

“Fuck.” Blushing from exertion – and probably something else – he looked up from where he was still balls-deep to sheepishly meet your eyes. “I swear, never finished so fast in my life. Didn’t get you there in time, did I?”

He pulled out, and you dropped your head back on Ghost’s shoulder with a wail of frustration. You were too close to stop now. You reached down to touch yourself, but before you could rub one out, Ghost shifted. He moved closer to the edge of the bed, dropping one of your legs to swat your hand away from your clit.

When you didn’t fight him, he reached behind you, and you both heard and felt him work his cock free.

“May I?”

Too horny and too frustrated, you nodded wildly. “I said I trusted you.”

“Glad to hear it.”

He didn’t pick up where Johnny left off. Thick fingers that had really only held you up to this point reached down, groping over breast and belly to reach your center. Long strokes kept the spark in your belly alive as he ran his hand over you, lubing his fingers in the mixed spend.

One dipped in. He paused, considering. Then a second joined.

“Minute I saw you at the door, knew you were a carer,” he said. “Knew it’d been so long since someone took care of you that you’d forgotten how a good neighbor should act.” The fingers curled, scissored, working you with clear and vulgar intent. “Wanted to be more than neighbors. Had to close that door quick. Every filthy thing Johnny said hit me, and I wasn’t fit company.” The full implications of that didn’t quite hit you in the moment, but a hazy vision of him watching you through the windows, palming an erection sent your cunt fluttering.

A third finger. All together, they were wider than Johnny’s cock. A deep breath helped. The thumb flicking over your clit like a moth drawn to a porchlight did more. “Had to figure out how to fix all the fuck ups then. So many delays. Took too damn long.” He pulled his hand free, denying you release.

“You said you’d take care of me.”

“We will, sweatheeart. Easy now.” His hand hovered in front of you, fingers spread so he could watch his good work cling and drip like a liquid spiderweb between his digits. “Fuck. You’re perfect.”

He spread his knees, pushing yours wider, and he lifted you up until his dick rubbed over your entrance. Even without looking, you could tell he was massive. You’d need to relax. You’d need to trust him.

Unlike Johnny, he took things slow. He read every flutter and clench, every gasp and hiss like he was fluent in your personal language of carnality. The stretch constantly rode the edge of too much, but it touched places no one else had reached, stuffed your senses full of bliss. And he was so careful. Tactical.

When he’d sheathed himself, his hands slid to your thighs, positioning you in a similar way as before.

“Think you’ve got more apologizing to do, Johnny.”

“Yes, sir.”

You’d closed your eyes at some point, overwhelmed by everything Ghost had to give, but you snapped to attention when a tongue ran over your clit. Johnny smiled up at you, pleased as punch. Devious fucker.

Ghost thrust, and the sound he pushed out of your mouth was pure filth. Helpless, you made it again with the second push. It happened again and again until it became an unbroken string of praise and pleas. Johnny made a game of keeping his tongue on you, pulling back, going still so Ghost would bounce you along it as he drove into you.

A hand pressed over your lower belly, and you moaned in tandem with Johnny.

“Fuck, Simon. Can feel you moving in her.”

After Johnny’s performance, Ghost clearly had something to prove. The first time you came, you clenched so hard on his dick it actually slowed him down. You thought that would be it, that he’d ride high to the end having achieved his goal. Instead, he kept going, fucking you brainless as Johnny actually giggled below. A second climax left you boneless, and by the third you’d entered a fugue state. Ghost slowed down until you could respond (I’m okay.) and then he drove you over the edge until you forgot how to count. Johnny offered kitten licks and praise throughout. When Ghost finally finished - pulling you flush to his chest and panting in your ear (Good fucking woman.) it was Johnny’s attention to your clit that broke you. He sucked and worked his tongue under your clitoral hood like he was sucking nectar from a honeysuckle blossom.

But you were tapped.

“Can’t. Too much.”

Johnny disengaged immediately, and two pairs of hands lifted you from where you sat impaled. Soft words and warm washcloths bathed you in the afterglow. Gentle suggestions guided you under the covers, and a familiar touch turned you to rest with your back to a heated chest. Warmth crowded in from the front, too, murmured joy and praise leaking through the haze to find you.

You didn’t even realize as you slept that you’d found something far better than a good neighbor. But that understanding would come with the dawn, a cup of tea, and a suggestion to go thrifting when the weather broke so you could find a matching set of truly hideous mugs.

[gothicdolores]

Apropo of nothing;

Would anyone like to share what they think their clan councils/council of elders….do?

For instance, I’ve been rounding out my council members and I have one who oversees commerce, one who oversees the arts and community services, I have one retired general, my master healer is also on the council etc

And that’s all localized within the clans territories, I’ve always figured the council of Ancient was more for neighborly relations, planetary law, etc

Edit: and what I mean by this is that SURELY….surely yautjan councils actually represent the will of the people?? SURELY each and every one of them have a relevant JOB that makes their position MATTER, and they’re not all just useless, ineffective nepo babies who got their job thru connection….

Surely being a council member means that you either do SOMETHING right or you won’t BE on the council much longer

[fanficsimp7]

Namjin Fics (Part 2)

When I See You Again - by honeyfarmer

Yoongi meets Seokjin at a café after years of not talking to each other. He certainly doesn't expect the surprise Seokjin had prepared for him.

Mail-order Bride - by AmoureusedeRimbaud

Alpha Kim Namjoon puts out an ad for an omega to marry him in return for a ticket out West.

Single parent and omega Kim Seokjin writes back, desperate to escape Chicago and leave his secrets buried.

Neighborly Destiny - by Beautiful_Little_Fool

“You still haven’t found a heat mate?” Taehyung asks around a mouthful of food. Jin grimaces in his direction and scolds him with a, “don’t talk with your mouth full you caveman! And no, I still haven’t found a heat mate.”

“Have you thought about calling the alpha service?” Yoongi asks insensitively.

Jin scrunches his nose in disgust and says, “ugh no. I’d rather spend my heats alone than with some stranger. It’s not very intimate and it costs too much money.”

“Well what about-” Jimin begins, but is interrupted by a thump next door and a loud muffled, “mother of a fucking whore, OW!”

“-your neighbor....” Jimin finishes with a confused frown, eyes focused on the wall between apartments.

“I don’t think Joon is in commission right now.” Yoongi says through a laugh.

the moon, the sun and the stars - by taetaehland

If you would ask Namjoon to name what he loves the most, it would be – his moon, his sun and his stars.

I need your love - by BTSLarryAf

Seokjin has to cut off his suppressants for health reasons so he goes into the heat. Namjoon is determined to do everything to help him get through it. Everything but the one thing Seokjin really wants and needs. The leader is convinced that having physical relations with his boyfriend in heat is just wrong so he is holding back and Seokjin is not here for it.

[ms-m-astrologer]

March 2024 Good Days

These are the days in March during which (1) the Moon is in a particular sign and (2) making a flowing aspect to the ruler of that sign. (Almost always a trine or sextile, sometimes a conjunction).

Mercury: Friday, March 15, 03:16 UT - 22:11 UT

Good for all communication, neighbors and neighborliness, sibling relations, gathering and distributing information.

Venus: Wednesday, March 13, 00:28 UT - 02:56 UT

A brief window for art, beauty, love, and money - and for simply enjoying what one has.

Mars:

Monday, March 11, 00:19 UT - Tuesday, March 12, 11:08 UT. Good for sports stuff, taking the initiative, leadership, independence.

Wednesday, March 27, 09:03 UT - 16:18 UT. Good for getting things done, cleaning and purging, surgery, healing.

Jupiter: Saturday, March 9, 01:03 UT - 21:24 UT

Good for the Pisces side of Jupiter: forgiveness, loss, generosity, spirituality.

Saturn: Monday, March 4, 21:15 UT - Tuesday, March 5, 15:38 UT

Good for hard work, hanging out with old people, discipline, responsibility, getting unpleasant tasks over with.

[mariacallous]

U.S. President-elect Donald Trump has already waded into his future trade wars before taking office. His proposal of a steep import tax on all products from the country’s top trade partners gives a preview of exactly how his zero-sum approach to economics could quickly become zero-benefit for businesses and consumers.

Trump, who vowed during his campaign to slap tariffs on everything that moved, said on Nov. 25 that he would, on his first day in office, put a 25 percent duty on all imports from Canada and Mexico—the United States’ two biggest trade partners, all bound together by a trilateral, tariff-free trade deal that Trump himself wrote. For good measure, Trump also threatened a 10 percent tax on all imports from China. His demand was for those countries to take immediate steps to curtail U.S.-bound deliveries of drugs and migrants.

The response, at least from the country most directly targeted, was pointed: Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum told Trump in a letter, “Migration and drug consumption in the United States cannot be addressed through threats or tariffs,” and vowed the same kind of retaliation that the European Union and China have already promised if Trump makes good on his threats. Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau reportedly spoke with Trump sometime after he posted his statement online; Ontario Premier Doug Ford compared the threat to “a family member stabbing you in the heart.”

There are two ways to consider Trump’s latest threats of tariffs, trade wars, and economic friction. The president-elect’s backers view his threat of tariffs as a clever way to force China, Canada, and Mexico to come to grips with two things he considers primordial: drugs and immigration. Those folks believe that Trump will not have to implement the tariffs because those countries will somehow overhaul their vigilance and enforcement of two of the thorniest questions in cross-border relations. 

Alternatively, given that Trump has called tariff the “most beautiful word,” he could actually do what he just said he was going to do, as he has done in the past. Given that the combined trade of the United States with those three countries is around $2.5 trillion a year, with a lot of interconnected supply chains and a deep, decades-old interdependence that could not be jury-rigged on the fly, such a move would be economically devastating. 

Prices in the United States—Trump ran in part on fixing the problem of that runaway 2.5 percent inflation—will go up, because whether it is Canadian lumber, Canadian oil, Mexican produce, or perhaps most importantly, all of the many components that go into making a car or a light truck, all of it would cost more than it did before.

The charitable view of Trump’s tariff threat is that it is just silly and would be ineffective, as his previous four years of hectoring China over trade matters and fentanyl achieved very little. The uncharitable view is that it would be silly and catastrophic.

Mexico is the biggest source of U.S. agricultural imports and a big outlet for U.S. exports, as well. The problems with a neighborly trade war are many, and they hit close to home.

“The idea that we are going to have a guacamole tax on day one, right before the Super Bowl, is nonsensical,” said Scott Lincicome, a trade expert at the Cato Institute in Washington.

The first problem for Trump to do what he said he would do is that the United States, Canada, and Mexico have one of the world’s biggest free-trade agreements, the USMCA, or NAFTA 2.0, that Trump himself undertook and which went into effect in 2020. 

The proposed tariffs are “definitely a violation of the basic USMCA commitment to charge zero tariffs,” said Simon Lester, a trade lawyer who worked on NAFTA and USMCA issues for years. Trump could invoke the national security exception in the agreement, as he did years ago, to raise taxes on imported steel and aluminum, but that would just trigger a dispute settlement process, which would take longer to play out than the inevitable Mexican and Canadian retaliation would, Lester said.

There are problems even with using that national security exception: It would require an iron-clad executive order, potentially publishing notices in the federal register, and maybe a declaration of a national economic emergency. Social media posts are not policy.

“On the procedural issues, there are so many hurdles and gray areas,” Lincicome said. “I don’t expect those tariffs to be implemented.”

Regardless of the more mainstream names picked for key positions in Trump’s economic braintrust, such as hedge fund manager Scott Bessent to run the Treasury Department, many in Washington don’t think that will be a check on Trump’s anti-trade tendencies.

“Trump loves tariffs, and there will be tariff threats and maybe even tariffs,” Lester said.

The stock market seemed to take the tariff threats with a grain of salt: The Dow Jones industrial average, the blue-chip index, barely wobbled. The U.S. dollar hardly gained against either the Chinese renminbi or the Canadian loonie; the Mexican peso’s slippage against the dollar could be for any number of reasons.

But, given that Trump did campaign on the explicit promise to raise taxes and impede trade, what if they’re wrong? 

One of the biggest threats to the economies of the United States, Canada, and Mexico would come in the automotive sector. The original NAFTA, by breaking down trade barriers among the three North American countries, set the stage for an integrated auto industry where bits of a car or truck are made thousands of miles apart. This is big business: Automaking accounts for about 11 percent of all U.S. manufacturing and 5 percent of all U.S. private sector jobs, not even counting all the corollary and related jobs the sector provides. 

Trump’s revised USMCA made the relationship between the automotive sector and regional trade even clearer, especially by mandating that roughly 75 percent of all cars and trucks be sourced locally. One way to avoid the cost of tariffs, if they are implemented, is to source goods from elsewhere. That is not an option for autos. 

Trump’s trade policies are now going full circle. Manufacturers cannot get cheaper inputs from anywhere else, lest they fall afoul of Trump’s USMCA, but would have to pay more for everything because of his tariffs.

Similar stories could abound in agriculture, textiles, and even the construction industry. One of the big advantages of the USMCA, for example, was greater U.S. access to the Canadian market for agricultural products: What would be first on the list of Canadian retaliation?

Trump’s threatened tariffs would be economic insanity, which is probably why his surrogates present the very specter of tariffs as gamesmanship, and not a real blueprint. The fear, and it’s genuine one, is that tariffs just like those are exactly the blueprint Trump ran and won on. The worst-case scenario could become the default setting.

[dyoreos]

I can't believe I sat through that useless Behind The Sims stream.

I'm relieved stuff packs are back, but I don't care too much that its another cooking-related pack. Wish they'd give us a damn hobbies pack, bands, hotels...pack refreshes. Anything that we've been asking for for years now!

The new "neighborly expansion pack" sounds like it'll have a city world (and hopefully more apartments). And I saw car keys, so are we getting cars? Taxis? Subway stations? I'm keeping my expectations really low.

[sukoshimikan]

Fuck outdoor cats. My garden beds are not a littler box and the bird feeders that I have been maintaining for going on two years now are not a buffet. Finally talked to the office about the problem today. Neighborly relations be damned, I'm done dealing with it. My daughter deserves to be able to enjoy the space when she is born and not have to deal with urine and feces.

[beardedmrbean]

The Bulgarian Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA) responded after an interview with North Macedonia’s Deputy Prime Minister and Minister of Transport, Aleksandar Nikoloski, who criticized Bulgaria for the absence of the flag of North Macedonia at an informal meeting between Presidents Rumen Radev and Gordana Siljanovska-Davkova. Nikoloski's comments included strong criticism, stating that Bulgaria lacked civility and respect.

In response, the MFA declared it would not engage in such non-European rhetoric. It emphasized that Bulgaria’s partners had been informed of the provocations, which seemed aimed at disrupting diplomatic dialogue. The MFA also reiterated the importance of good neighborly relations for North Macedonia's European integration.

Bulgarian MPs also reacted sharply to Nikoloski's comments. Asen Vassilev, co-chair of "We Continue the Change - Democratic Bulgaria" (WCC-DB), criticized the remarks as insulting and disproportionate, urging North Macedonia to honor existing agreements if it wanted to join the European Union. He emphasized that Bulgaria's interests were protected by the EU and called for a reminder that written agreements must be upheld.

Delyan Peevski, chair of the DPS parliamentary group, also condemned the comments, calling for North Macedonia's ambassador to be recalled until Bulgaria receives a formal apology. He insisted that Bulgaria would not tolerate such insults from a country it had supported in the past.

Ivan Ivanov, deputy chair of the Bulgarian Socialist Party (BSP) parliamentary group, described the statements as unacceptable and warned they could harm bilateral relations. He stressed that Bulgaria had done everything possible to support North Macedonia’s EU bid, citing the good-neighbor agreement, which had not been respected by the Macedonian government. Ivanov, a historian, labeled Nikoloski's remarks as lies, insisting the shared history between the two nations is a historical fact.

Toshko Yordanov from "There Is Such a People" (TISP) viewed the comments as further evidence that North Macedonia does not belong in the EU. He criticized WCC-DB, DPS, and GERB for lifting the veto on North Macedonia’s EU accession, stating that leaders who use such rhetoric should have no place in the EU. Yordanov pointed out that North Macedonia’s history is tied to Bulgaria and argued that their current leaders’ attitudes demonstrated disrespect toward the entire EU. He called for European partners to take a strong stance on the issue, emphasizing that North Macedonia’s accession talks should not proceed until they respect treaties.