#now valuable resources to your side?

[batcavescolony]

(The Road To Civil War)

It's so interesting to see this brought up with other hero's, usually I see this with Batman. But it Really it's goes for anyone with a no killing rule, In this case Spider-Man. At what point are the deaths on your hands cus you didn't kill the villain last time. Spider-Man and Batman don't believe 'the ends justifies the means', to them killing someone is wrong no matter what. it's really easy for someone detached from the situation (or just reading a fake story) to just say yes, kill them. but really when push comes to shove would you actually be able to walk up to someone and kill them?

[exorcxqsm]

The price of desire.

ᯓWord Count: 4,4k

ᯓ tags - WARNINGS: mdni, reader isn’t the lnds!mc, explicit sexual content, alterations to the main story, toxic relationship, dr/y humping, t/easing, (lowkey) o/rgasm control, b/egging, f!receiving oral, p in v, unprotected sex, breath play, sensory play, spanking, mention of breeding!kink (toxic if you squint really hard), creampies, dom!sylus, use of pet names (kitten, sweetie), violence, mentions of blood and injuries.

ᯓnotes: This is my first published work here, it took me some time to write but I believe I’m content with how it came out. At first, the idea was to keep it a part one which is connected to an event of the series. Ending this part, I can think of some ways this can go, but I’d still want your opinion:) If you want to see more of this, please go ahead and ask. Any reblogs and likes will be appreciated. 

You were a dangerous woman, a fact well-known throughout the N109 Zone. As the assistant to one of the most feared men in the underworld, your reputation was built on the edge of a knife. 

But today, the real danger sat directly across from you at the table—your boss's most formidable and deadly rival: Sylus.

His silver-white hair fell messily over his forehead, creating a disheveled yet intentional look that only added to his unsettling charisma. A smirk played on his lips, while his crimson eyes held an unreadable intensity,  as he sat on the table with his henchmen on each side of him. Luke and Kieran.

You had done your research, uncovering every scrap of information about the three men before you. It was a challenge, of course; the leader of the most notorious illegal organization in the N109 Zone wasn’t one to divulge valuable intel easily. Yet you had pieced together enough to know the depths of Sylus's ruthlessness.

You were certain of one thing: Sylus would not hesitate to sacrifice anyone—including his own men—if it suited his purpose. The black-red tendrils of his mist would mercilessly end the person and he wouldn’t blink an eye while his lethal capability, capable of extinguishing a life in an instant, would take over. 

The only individuals he seemed to protect were Luke and Kieran, his unwavering henchmen, whose loyalty was both a strength and a potential weakness in this deadly game.

Everyone claimed that the twins were somewhat adopted by him—a complex relationship in which he protected and provided for them in exchange for their loyalty and services.

If you were being honest with yourself, you found yourself drawn to the twins. They exuded a carefree spirit that brought an element of fun, even in the context of business. You often wished you could shed your own uptight demeanor and embrace life as they did.

Your thoughts were abruptly pulled back to the present when one of Sylus’s men dropped two large armory boxes onto the table that separated your group from his. As the man opened the boxes, a collection of modified and illegal firearms was revealed, each piece looking as lethal as the man who had crafted them.

Dante, your boss, rose from his chair beside you to inspect the guns. After all, that was the purpose of this meeting—a trade, a business transaction between two men who despised each other's very existence, yet could not deny that, in times of crisis, their respective resources could prove invaluable to one another.

Dante provided the protocores, and Sylus expertly modified them. When Dante requested his part of the deal, the modified protocores were returned to him in the form of firearms capable of ending a life in less than the blink of an eye.

“Resourceful as always, Mr. Sylus,” your boss mused, but Sylus’s gaze was locked onto yours, seemingly ignoring Dante entirely.

“Oh, Dante,” he said, the man’s name dripping with disdain, “my little black heart is shattered into pieces. One would think you’d have learned by now not to question my methods or my work.”

You rolled your eyes at the silver-haired menace, your heels clicking against the carpet in a rhythm of impatience. You were growing weary of this standoff. Dante needed to state the agreed price and move on already.

“Set the price.”

Sylus’s smirk widened at Dante’s request, his eyes now fully focused on him. He seemed to stall deliberately, taking slow, measured steps around the room. His imposing aura filled the space, the coat draped over his broad shoulders swaying slightly with each movement. Finally, he came to a halt by the table, gripping its edge with both hands and leaning forward.

“Such a pretty kitten you have with you, hm?” he taunted.

Your gaze turned icy as Dante’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Are you referring to Miss Y/N?”

Sylus tilted his head to the side, his crimson eyes locking onto you once more, studying you with an intensity that made you uneasy. “You’re a foolish man, Dante.”

“What the hell did you just say?” 

You exhaled through your nose, frustrated by your boss’s inability to keep his pride in check when it came to Sylus. This man ran an entire organization yet seemed unable to handle a little provocation.

“I said…” Sylus drawled, relishing the moment, “you’re a foolish man. Only someone with the brain capacity of a goldfish would keep a pretty kitten like her uncollared.”

You shot up from your seat faster than lightning, leaning dangerously close to Sylus, your hand itching to grab one of the weapons from the boxes in front of you.

“You should watch your mouth when speaking to a lady, Mr. Sylus,” you seethed, your voice low but fierce. “Only a man with the brain capacity of a goldfish would disrespect a woman for no apparent reason.”

Sylus chuckled at your retort, a wide grin spreading across his sharp features, revealing his teeth.

“Feisty,” he mouthed, a smirk playing on his lips, meant only for you to see.

Just then, Dante stepped up behind you, and you almost forgot he was there until his hand landed firmly on your behind, giving it a squeeze. Your hand was so close to the gun that it took all your willpower not to reach for it.

Sylus's expression shifted, the amusement fading as his brows furrowed, re-centering on his forehead.

“Set. Your. Price,” Dante reiterated, his body uncomfortably close to yours.

You had served as his assistant for far too many years, becoming accustomed to his unpredictable behavior. Yet, deep down, he knew you wouldn’t dare act against him with all his guards surrounding him.

You were a capable assassin, more than capable of matching his malevolence, but you were just one woman up against his entire army. He was well aware of your skills, which is precisely why he always kept a close contingent of guards present during your meetings in his office. You were his most valuable asset, yet he was frightened of what you could do if pushed too far.

Despite this knowledge, he often seemed to forget the extent of your capabilities, choosing instead to provoke Sylus.

“Her.”

“No.” Your response was immediate, your tone firm. He couldn’t be serious.

Dante’s chest shook with laughter beside you, his golden teeth glinting in the light.

“She’s off the table, I’m afraid,” he added, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Very well, then.” Sylus retracted from the table and rose to his full height, a shadow looming over both you and your boss. “So is the deal. Have a good one, Mr. Dante.”

Your shoulders relaxed for only a brief moment, but before you could even blink, you found yourself lifted off your feet and thrown over the table like a ragdoll.

Fucking bastard.

Of course, the deal was too important for him to let it slip away. Sylus knew exactly what he was doing when he pulled this stunt.

“Don’t even think about it,” you spat, your voice harsh and defiant. “I am your right hand; your business will crumble without me!”

Sylus seemed to revel in the chaos, leaning casually against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. As his black-red mist began to swirl around the room, it coalesced around your body, lifting you off the table and bringing you effortlessly to his side.

Your struggles were utterly futile. No power could match his evol.

“Bastard!” you yelled, directing your fury at your boss.

Dante let out a deep sigh, visibly irritated but choosing to remain silent. His organization was already on the brink of collapse, a fact known only to you—and apparently Sylus too. That was the reason he had recently struck a deal with Onychinus; only their resources could possibly uplift him now—if anyone could, that is.

“Always a pleasure doing business with you, Dante.”

The plush sofa of his dimly lit living room felt uncomfortably rough against your bare thighs as you took in your surroundings. Your revealing dress had ridden up significantly due to the twins’ rough handling as they placed you there, while their boss prowled around the sofa like a predator circling its prey.

The record player in the corner emitted a classical melody that only heightened the unnerving atmosphere, each note echoing with an eerie elegance.

“So uptight,” Sylus whispered in your ear, causing you to jump as his breath brushed against your skin. You hadn’t even noticed when he had gotten so close. “My, my… and so jumpy, aren’t we, kitten? Just try not to scratch my ceiling.”

You turned to glare at him, and if looks could kill, he would have been slain by the fire in your eyes. Nevertheless, you managed to keep your voice steady. “Why am I here?”

He didn’t bother to meet your gaze as he sank into his enormous cushioned chair across from you. A black-and-red mist began to swirl around your body once more, and before you could react, it lifted you off the couch and positioned you right on his lap, straddling him.

“What the hell?”

His hand shot up, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Shh, just keep your claws sheathed for a moment.”

You could feel your patience wearing thin. “Why. am I. here?”

Sylus's jaw tightened slightly, and if you weren’t intently observing his every expression, you might have missed it. “Because, kitten, Dante and I had a transaction.”

“Isn’t your typical price protocores when dealing with my boss?”

“Typically…” Sylus’s gaze was fixed on your face as an eerie silence enveloped the room.

Before you could process his words, his hand snaked around your throat, pulling you closer. His eyes locked onto your lips, a predatory glint flickering within them.

“What are you doing…” you whispered, your body tensing in instinctive response.

“Show me, kitten.”

“What?”

Sylus chuckled softly, a mocking sound that sent shivers down your spine. “I know you’re a smart kitten; don’t play dumb with me. It won’t help you.”

Of course, you understood what he was implying, but how did he know?

“I have no idea what you want,” you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

His hand tightened around your throat, making it increasingly difficult to breathe. Then you noticed it—the red glow of his eye—and you realized what he was doing. “Show me.”

Ironically, he was now in control of your actions, even though he sought the opposite.

You slowly removed your glove, compelled by the white-haired man in front of you. Your bare hand pressed firmly against his chest, and in an instant, his heartbeat ceased.

Your breath hitched in your throat.

You stared at his face, dumbfounded, as the glow in his eye faded and his complexion turned an ashen pale. Before you could comprehend what was happening, a low chuckle echoed through the dimly lit room.

Sylus’s chuckle. He was alive. Wait, what the hell?

His laughter grew more vibrant with each passing second as he took in your horrified expression. You shot your hand out again, daring to touch him, but he caught your wrist, tossing it aside with ease.

“Ravishing…” he breathed, his eyes darkening to a richer shade.

You watched him for a moment, trying to make sense of everything that had unfolded in the past few hours, until suddenly, everything clicked into place.

You gasped.

“You fucking bastard!” you shouted, fury igniting in your voice. “Is this why you didn’t take the protocores? Is this why you asked for me?”

Sylus’s arrogant smirk returned, dominating his features. “He wasn’t aware of the precious possession he had in his own house, sweetie. But I am.”

“You are… sick.” The expression on his face darkened, and something twisted in your gut, though you wished it was anything but excitement at his subtle praise. “You will not control me. I belong to no one.”

“Oh, kitten, I’m not trying to control you. This is just… a deal.” His eyebrows shot up, his face tilting slightly to the side as if he found your defiance amusing. “Isn’t business what you excel at? Or do you want me to believe it was Dante who called the shots?”

Your own expression faltered, but your body began to relax atop his, a fact he noted with a small, apprehensive smile that curled at his lips. “Are you trying to extract intel from me?”

He rolled his eyes at your tactics, a playful smirk on his face. “You are so gullible, kitten.”

He leaned in impossibly close, your breath catching in your throat and a shiver coursing through you as your body responded to his proximity. This was all so wrong.

“He didn’t value you nearly enough, sweetie,” Sylus whispered against your pulse, his warm breath sending a jolt through you. “But I can.” His teeth grazed your throat, and as your mouth opened, no sound dared to escape your lips.

“I…” You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I have no idea what—”

In one swift movement, you found yourself perched on the edge of the chair, Sylus looming over you like a consuming inferno. Your chests were nearly touching, and his eyes held a dangerous allure as he stared directly into your own. “I believe you do.”

His hand drifted from beside your head, descending to your collarbone as his fingertips caressed the delicate skin with a featherlight touch. “You can end someone with just a touch…” he whispered against your neck, and you had to fight against the electric shivers coursing through your body. “I am the only person you can’t kill, even if you tried, kitten.”

Your mind was slowly turning to mush as his hand roamed over the sensitive swell of your breasts, his lips planting tender kisses against your throat. “Don’t you see where I’m going with this? We’re meant for each other. Kindred spirits.”

“You’re insane,” you wanted to accuse him, but your voice came out breathless, betraying your mounting desire. A soft grunt escaped his lips, a sound that only fueled the tension between you.

“If I’m insane, what does that say about you, sweetie?” He began kissing his way down from your neck to your collarbone, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “I can smell your arousal from up here.”

You gasped at his bold accusation, your body jerking in response, but it only heightened the sensation as your clothed core pressed against his torso. You tensed, and his lips curled into a dangerous smirk. “So insatiable…”

“This is so wrong…”

“I’ve never been a righteous man.”

You leaned back instinctively, your hands reaching out as if to find comfort around his neck, but he halted your movement just before contact.

In your hazy state, you noticed him licking his lips, his gaze searching the floor for something—your glove.

“As much as I can’t think of another way to go, I’d prefer to be fully conscious when your pretty cunt is all over my mouth.”

“You’re… outrageous,” your voice faltered, betraying the rush of emotions coursing through you. Your body reacted in ways that contradicted your words.

“Do you prefer gentle, kitten?” Sylus asked, his fingers teasingly tugging at the neckline of your dress, unveiling your flushed skin. His tongue flicked over your right nipple, while his other hand caressed the neglected one. “Would you rather I whisper sweet nothings and cherish you gently?”

His tone dripped with playful mockery, and you arched your back, responding instinctively to his touch and taunting words.

“Would you like me to take it slow? To tell you how beautiful you are?” he teased, his laughter rumbling softly in the air.

Your resolve crumbled as he nipped at your sensitive bud, his hand expertly working the other. “No!” you moaned, your gloved fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, caught in the intoxicating desire in the air.

He growled against your chest, his body pressing forcefully against your legs as they parted to accommodate him. He felt a thrill of compliance wash over you, nearly tempting him to follow through on his suggestion to take it easy.

“More,” you demanded, your fingers tugging insistently at his head, guiding him downward to where your dress had pooled around your waist, leaving your red lace panties tantalizingly exposed.

Sylus grinned at your eagerness, his gaze lingering on your clothed cunt. “God, kitten…” he grunted, pressing his nose against the damp spot on your panties, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks as a thrill of shame coursed through you. “Did you wear my favorite color on purpose?”

His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Or did you wear it for him?”

You could only whimper in response, arching your body desperately to bring his face where you craved it most. Instead, a sharp sting greeted your cunt, your eyes widening as a gasp of surprise escaped your lips.

He slapped your pussy again, his expression darkening into a scowl. “Answer me, kitten. Did you get all dolled up for him?”

You clenched around nothing, the possessiveness in his tone igniting a deeper need within you. “No,” you whimpered softly. “It wasn’t for him.”

In an instant, he tore your panties away, his mouth descending on your cunt, his tongue skillfully lapping at your folds. “Good girl. Good fucking girl.”

Your fingers clawed at his shoulder, sounds of pleasure escaping you uncontrollably as he toyed with your sensitive clit. “Such a sweet pussy,” he grunted against your core, sending shivers through your body. You slid down the chair, his face pressed firmly against you, your lower body lifted almost into the air. His strong arms wrapped around your thighs, hoisting your legs over his shoulders as he devoured you.

“Say my name, kitten.”

You felt yourself teetering on the edge, already giving him too much. “N-no.”

His teeth grazed your clit, sending waves of pleasure and frustration coursing through you as he slid one finger against your entrance, teasingly. “No?”

“No.” Your voice trembled, betraying the mix of emotions swelling within you as you neared your release with each stroke of his tongue, yet your stubbornness held firm.

“Very well, then.” In an instant, his mouth was gone, leaving you feeling cold and exposed as he stood to his full height.

“What…?”

Sylus leaned over you again, delivering a sharp slap to the side of your breasts that made you squirm and gasp. “This is my zone. My side of the board. Here, you either play by my rules and win, or you go against me and lose.” His voice was low and commanding as his hand reached down again, sliding two fingers inside you, curling them to find your sweet spot. “What will it be, kitten?”

By this point, your entire body felt like it belonged to someone else. “Please…” Your voice was laced with desperation, the plea spilling from your lips, unrecognizable even to you.

“Please what? Just say it, sweetie,” he urged, a teasing glint in his eyes.

His fingers quickened their pace, and your legs trembled under the mounting pleasure, each mewl that escaped your lips a symphony to his ears. “So—Oh my god… S-so close.”

The moment he sensed your walls beginning to clench around his fingers, a satisfied smile crept across his face, and you returned it through a haze of bliss—until you felt him start to withdraw.

Your hand shot out, wrapping around his wrist with a desperate grip, pulling him back toward you. “Sylus!” you cried, your stomach twisting in knots as sweet release threatened to crash over you.

“Sylus, yes, oh my god, yes…” You were barely coherent, the words tumbling from your mouth, but Sylus grunted, his pants taut against his rock-hard cock.

“That’s it… That’s it, sweetie, I know. Drench my fingers; they’re all yours.” He moved with an urgency that took your breath away, thrusting deeply inside you, sending shivers through your entire body as you rode the wave of your climax.

You panted, your chest rising and falling heavily. As the haze began to lift, your mouth fell open in awe, watching Sylus suckle on his fingers, his eyes glowing with satisfaction as he savored your essence.

A fresh wave of slickness coated your folds, and Sylus cursed under his breath as he stood, taking you with him. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your bare, wet cunt smearing against the fabric of his pants, leaving a tantalizing mess.

The coarse material of his attire heightened your senses, making your body arch in his arms as you ground your hips down, chasing that blissful friction.

“So eager…” he whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin before he nipped at your earlobe. “And so fucking wet.” He strode toward his desk just a few feet away, easing you onto your feet. “I’m going to devour you.”

In one swift motion, your belly pressed against the polished surface of his mahogany desk, your body bent over, your ass perfectly positioned for him. He didn’t allow you a moment to breathe before two sharp slaps landed on your cheeks, your body jolting forward in response.

Your moans filled the air, driving him wild, and the way your back arched instinctively shattered any semblance of his control.

You heard the unmistakable sound of his zipper, and a thrill raced through you as his cock was freed from its confines, teasingly brushing against your entrance.

Turning your head over your shoulder, your eyes fell on him, and a rush of desire coursed through you. He was enormous, his veins prominent and pulsing, the tip glistening with precum that trickled down, landing directly on your cunt.

“Sylus…” You brought his attention back to you, and the look on your face made his brows knot slightly in concern.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” he asked, his voice thick with lust yet surprisingly calm. “Do you want me to stop?”

You placed your hand lightly against his abdomen, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, and shook your head. “No, it’s just…” Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, almost mirroring the color of his eyes. “It’s not going to fit.”

Sylus paused, momentarily dumbfounded, before releasing the breath he had been holding along with a low chuckle. “We’re going to make it fit, kitten.”

Skepticism flickered in your eyes, and he noticed.

“Do you trust me?”

“No.” You answered honestly. He had been your rival until now, and you couldn’t fully grasp how your dynamic had shifted to this moment, you bent over his desk, spread  and exposed.

He grinned, shaking his head in amusement. “You shouldn’t.”

In one powerful thrust, he was inside you, and your eyes rolled back in your head as pleasure surged through your body, overwhelming your senses.

“Fuck!” you cried out, but there was no pain—he seemed to know exactly how to plunge into you.

“Shit… You’re so tight,” Sylus growled, his hips slapping against yours as he took you roughly, driving deep against the surface of his desk. “It would’ve hurt more if I’d taken it slow, sweetie.”

It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to speak, but even if he could, you wouldn’t have heard him. Your mind was consumed with the exquisite fullness of his cock filling you completely.

Your eyes crossed as he continued to thrust in and out, your lips parted in a silent gasp, drool escaping the corner of your mouth and trickling down to the polished surface of his desk.

“Cock-hungry little whore,” he grunted, folding his body over yours to penetrate you even deeper. “And you claim you hate me.”

“I d-do,” you managed to moan, your legs trembling from the intensity of the sensations.

“You hate me, yet your sweet cunt is squeezing my cock like it’s her lover.”

Your mewls and whimpers grew louder with each thrust, your head spinning from the overwhelming pleasure. “Sylus…” you moaned his name, urging him onward toward his own release.

“What is it, sweetie?”

“I-I’m… s’close. So so close.” Tears were welling up in your eyes, and Sylus moaned deeply behind you as he felt your cunt squeezing him, clenching around him like he belonged there. Because he did. 

His hand shot up, wrapping around your throat as he kept pounding you from behind, his whole desk shaking from the force of his thrusts. You were sure a bruise would form on your abdomen where it made contact with the wood. 

Your eyes rolled as he applied more pressure, making it difficult for you to breathe. “Such a pretty kitten…” He moaned in your ear. “And now she’s collared. As she should be.”

Your orgasm broke through you with a new force, the tears escaping your eyes and your cries lulling Sylus to fall on his own release right after you.

“Fuck.” He moaned, his teeth clamping down on your shoulder. Rope after rope of cum filled your cunt, his thighs shaking slightly from behind you as he emptied himself inside you. 

You were so overstimulated and sensitive by your encounter when Sylus caught his dripping cum from your thighs and pushed it right back in.

Your legs threatened to give out, your mind clouding the moment he began to fill you with his seed once more. “Such a pretty cunt, used and bred by me,” Sylus murmured, his voice low and possessive. “What will your boss say when my kids are running around his base, huh?”

You weren’t even aware of how or when it happened, but suddenly you were moaning his name, sweet and desperate, as you drenched him once again. This time, the force of your release was blinding, your vision fading to a brilliant white.

Confused, you turned to see Sylus, his abdomen glistening with your essence, his fingers slick and dripping as he stared at you with a manic edge in his eyes.

“Oh my God…” Heat rushed to your cheeks as the realization of what you had just done washed over you. “I’m sorry… Sylus, I’m—”

Before you could finish, his hand pressed firmly against your lower back, forcing you back into position as you tried to shrink away from his gaze. “Kitten…” His voice was taut, barely contained. “We’re not leaving this room until you do this again.”

[worldofstoriesanddreams]

Isn't there an age limit?

The Justice League gathered in the meeting room to deal with yet another potential world ending threat. On the screen was a projection of an incoming alien armada. The invaders were as numerous as the stars. Each spaceship looked like a skull with many tentacles.

“These mechanical ships harvest a world’s resources, destroying all life, while terraforming the planet into servers which become part of Brainiac’s interstellar network,” Batman explained.

“We don’t have sufficient numbers to take them all down,” Martian Manhunter pointed out. “Is there a weakness we can target? Or do they have a leader we can capture to force the entire fleet into submission?”

“We need to locate Brainiac and infiltrate the ship he’s on.” While Batman spoke, a hush silence fell on the entire room. Everyone stared at the screen behind him, with mouths wide open.

Turning around, Batman stared in unbelief.

A massive sphere - a dead star, moved between Earth and the alien army. 

The cameras zoomed in on a red dot pushing it - Fawcett’s new local hero with the demeanour of a golden retriever - Captain Marvel. 

Gripping the titanic star like an oversized plastic ball, he swung it forward, hitting the incoming spaceships out of the galaxy.  

The Herculean man’s face lit with childish glee as he pumped his fist in the air. 

Grinning like an idiot, he carted the unimaginably heavy celestial object away, while whistling a ditty. 

How powerful was that man? 

More importantly, does he have any weakness in case he needs to be taken down?

“Phew,” Flash was the first to get his voice back. “The new guy took care of that. So can we go home now?”

“No,” Batman raised his hand. “Change of agenda. It’s time we expanded our membership.” Keep your friends close but your enemies closer. What better way to keep an eye on the new guy than to bring him into the fold.

Superman had a silly hopeful grin on his face. “I vote we invite Captain Marvel to join the League.”  The Last Son of Krypton must suspect that the new hero is a fellow Kryptonian.

“We don’t know anything about him,” Green Lantern cautioned.

“Better get him on our side than have him join our enemies,” Batman replied as the screen showed photos and articles about Captain Marvel gleaned from the internet for all to study.

“He’s clean.” Cyborg ran his checks on the man. “He’s a boy scout. Half of all the footage I have found — and I mean exactly half — shows him rescuing cats from trees or helping little old ladies cross the road while carrying groceries for them.”

“Cast your votes,” Batman ordered. “Do we want Captain Marvel to be a member of the Justice League?”

*

The decision was unanimous. Captain Marvel has a place in the Justice League, that is, if he wants it. With his power set, he would be a valuable asset to the team. All appearances of the new hero have shown that he is one of the good guys.

“I’ll ask him,” Superman volunteered. He was dying to meet the new guy. He had to be a fellow Kryptonian. Though he must have a chat with The Captain about Bat-paranoia, to hide how much Kryptonians can really do. Otherwise Bats might break out his Kryptonite stores to hit them both.

For example, while pushing a titanic star, for goodness sake, please make it look a lot more challenging.

According to Cyborg, Captain Marvel would appear in Fawcett right after a massive lightning strike from the clear, cloudless sky. The hero tended to patrol Fawcett for an hour before seven in the morning and for an hour after three in the afternoon on weekdays. His schedule was more unpredictable during the weekends. 

Clark was a reporter. 

Could The Captain be an elementary school teacher in his civilian identity?

It was a quarter past three on a Wednesday afternoon. Superman hovered four hundred feet above Fawcett’s busiest square, drawing a curious crowd while he waited for Captain Marvel to make his appearance.

Lightning struck an alley near a local elementary school.

“S-superman!” Captain Marvel hovered in front of him. 

The man’s brilliant blue eyes brimmed with excitement as he stared at Superman with an open-mouthed grin. 

“What brings you to Fawcett?” The Captain’s cheeks flushed as he stiffened, arms crossing his heavily muscled chest. If Superman didn’t know any better, he’d think Captain Marvel was starstruck.

“Captain Marvel,” Superman began, feeling a little self conscious.“I come on behalf of the Justice League. We’ve seen what you can do and want you to join our team.”

“You want me to join the Justice League?” The big guy was practically bouncing with excitement. If he were a golden retriever with a tail, he’d be wagging it.

Just as abruptly, he looked down, slouching as if trying to shrink his large frame. “But isn’t there an age limit to join the League?”

“We don’t discriminate against anyone based on their ages.” 

Superman whispered conspiratorially. “I don’t even know how old I was when my ship landed on earth. For all you know, it could have taken lightyears to get here.”

“Hmm,” Captain Marvel rubbed the back of his neck. “If you say so.”

“Take your time to think about it,” Superman handed him a League communicator. “This is for you. If you want to talk to us, just press this button,” he showed The Captain how to use the device.

“For me?” The guy looked as excited as a kid who had received a shiny new toy. 

“Yes, for you,” Superman replied. “Call us when you’ve decided.”

“I want in,” Captain looked up, grinning from ear to ear.

“Then, welcome to the Justice League!” Superman shook his hand. “Come with me to our headquarters.”

*

The flight to the Justice League’s Headquarters with Superman was fun. 

That giant satellite that Cap often flew past when he left earth’s atmosphere was the Justice League’s Watchtower -  a secret meeting place for Justice League members.

Billy was flying with Superman. 

Elated.

The SUPERMAN!

How cool was that?

His hero was a lot chattier in person. 

Superman talked about Krypton, his home world. His dad uploaded all Krypton’s history and knowledge into the A.I. of the spaceship that brought Kal-el to earth. 

Kal-el was Superman’s birth name.

“What’s your birth name?” Superman asked?

“William,” Cap replied.

“Wil-em,” Superman looked deep in thought. 

“The Ems — I think I know your bloodline.”

“You do?” The thought that Superman even cared about Billy’s family warmed him like a cup of hot chocolate. But as far as Billy knew, he was a Batson, not an Em. He was four when he lost his family. It’s been three years since. His memories of Daddy, Mummy and Mary were beginning to fade.

“Come with me to my Fortress of Solitude after your induction and I’ll show you Krypton’s records about the Ems,” Superman grinned as he tapped on the satellite.

A panel slid open.

“Where is it?” Cap asked as he flew into the airlock.

“In the Arctic,” he accompanied Cap in the dock.

“Are there polar bears?” Cap felt giddy with excitement.

“Plenty,” Superman laughed as he walked Cap through the massive hall. It was like nothing Billy had ever seen. 

“I can introduce you to a family of friendly bears,” Superman grinned.

“I would love that,” Billy’s heart did flip flops over the thought of getting to meet polar bears who were friends with Superman. Cap could speak all languages. He’d have a great time chatting with Superman’s bear buddies.

“Holy Moley,” Captain Marvel exclaimed as he walked through the security checkpoint. The doorway opened into futuristic corridor with interactive walls and holographic displays. 

Announcing the arrival of Superman and his guest Captain Marvel, a tinny voice rang out.

“Brace yourself,” Superman whispered. “The rest of the League is waiting for us in the meeting room.”

A metallic panel slid open revealing a grand meeting room. Batman sat at the head of the long table. Wonder Woman, Flash, Green Lantern, Cyborg and Aquaman sat around it. There were two empty seats.

All eyes were on Captain Marvel.

“Holy Moley,” Cap whispered. He couldn’t help himself. It’s a bad habit he picked up from his late father.

“Guys,” Superman announced. “Captain Marvel has agreed to join the Justice League.”

The room broke into applause.

“Welcome to the team,” Flash whooped.

“Let’s celebrate,” Aquaman tilted a large bottle of whiskey, filled a glass and slid it across the table to Captain Marvel.

Cap looked at the glass in front of him and back at Aquaman. “Isn’t there an age limit?”

[phoenixblair666]

It Only Takes One Second: A Logan Howlett X Fem!Reader Story

This story takes place in the X-Men trilogy. It's a romance between Logan and Fem!Reader, where the reader goes through a traumatic experience that allows her mutant powers to emerge. She goes to Xavier's school in search of sanctuary but finds Logan instead. When He helps her learn how to use and control her powers, he creates a valuable new member of the X-Men, but what started as helping a new recruit find their footing, turns into a blossoming romance.

Authors Note: This story will be in multiple parts. As of now how many parts, is to be determined. The story starts off slow, but additional parts will be added. Enjoy! ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Word Count: 1,207

Reading Time Approximately: 5 Minutes

WARNINGS: Mentions of Traumatic experiences (Car crash), Mentions of Anxiety, Mentions of Hospitalization

(Part: 1) How It All Started

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧�� .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚ ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .

Driving has always given you a sense of peace. That certain feeling of highway hypnosis was more than welcomed; the cool breeze in your hair, the gentle warmth from the sun shining through your windshield, and classic tunes fit for a twenty-three-year-old woman playing through your out-of-date stereo.

You never feared the long roads during these trips, nor did you fear where they would take you. Living in a van had its perks. One day you may want to lie beachside, lemonade in hand, the next you're driving through the Rocky Mountains, taking in the natural sights. Today that feeling changed.

Screeching tires echoed through the twined peaks on either side of you, the smell of burnt rubber filling your vehicle. You tried to take control of the wheel as best you could, but the invisible ice covering the pavement made it incredibly difficult. Your car swerved one way, then the next before the sound of metal against metal was heard, airbags deploying, scraping your face, leaving first-degree burns against your skin. Now you were airborne, freefalling off the side of a mountain. Time feels as if it slows as you watch the raging river below get closer and closer with each second.

Then it happens. Suddenly your body senses the air surrounding you. The way the gaseous molecules float freely, only parting ways when they touch your solid form. You can feel the vibrations from each of these molecules not on your skin but deep within your muscles, a sensation that is completely foreign to you.

The car is only a few yards away from crashing into the aggressive waters when your body begins to use the surrounding air as leverage, and you begin to float on your own accord. It's not gravity lifting you from your seat, but it's you, manipulating the natural resource. Everything happens too quickly for this newfound ability to be of use, and before you know it your car is making an impact with the water. The surface of the river is like concrete against the metal, crushing the hood to your knees. Your windshield shatters, allowing water to flood the interior of the vehicle, and then everything goes black.

══════════════════════════════

The smell of rubbing alcohol and soap is the first thing your senses pick up, then the constant beeping in your ears. Your fingers feel the rough texture of fabric as you weakly grip a set of white sheets. All of your senses slowly come back, one by one, acclimating you to your surroundings. Finally, your eyes flutter open. Your vision is blurry, but you can see the bright fluorescent lights shining down on you. You blink hard, trying to make the rest of the room visible, succeeding when you begin to notice the objects around you. A countertop with a sink, an empty armchair, medical posters, and IVs wrapping around your arm with a small needle filling your body with a plethora of drugs.

Just like the rest of your senses, the unfamiliar buzzing in your muscles returns. Once again, you feel the sheer power of the surrounding air in your body. This is a sensation that is completely new to you, it is frightening. Your heart begins to quicken, and the machine next to you detects the rapid pulse, alerting nearby nurses. You begin to paw at the IVs that adorn your arm, ripping the needle from your skin and discarding it on the floor, allowing liquid to pool on the clean white tiles. Your body begins to hover as you panic, lifting a few feet above the bed. A nurse opens the curtain that led into your room, gasping at the sight before him.

As you float, the feeling of uncertainty washes over you. Everything that was happening to you in this moment was unnatural, almost alien. The fact that you survived the horrible crash the day before, and now you can fly without trying, was some sort of strange miracle.

Nothing in your life has been or will be the same since this day.

══════════════════════════════

The sign against the brick wall was a clear indicator that you had reached your destination. You had heard from one of the doctors a few weeks ago that there was a place for 'You people' that acted as a sanctuary. Until then you had heard few stories of mutants, let alone seen one for yourself. And now here you are, standing at the entrance of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. You inhale sharply, feeling a ball sit in your chest, all worries flooding your mind at once.

Hesitantly you take one heavy step forward, then the next. Gravel crunches under your combat boots as you make your way to the large mansion-turned-school. Two large oak doors decorate the front of the classic old building, and an elegant porch covers them, while vines grow upwards against the brick, some even covering the many windows that adorn the structure. A large water fountain sits in the middle of a rounded driveway, and different types of foliage surround the man-made body of water.

What was once gravel turns into a stone path, leading to the driveway. Your steps become more wary as you approach the stairs of the porch. The unknown sits behind the oak barriers, making your heartbeat thump against your ribcage. A few more steps and you are right in front of said barrier. Lifting your arm had proven to be more difficult than expected as thoughts raced through your skull. Despite this, the rough skin against your knuckles meets the solid object with three small knocks.

Your anxiety spikes as you wait for someone to answer. You almost don't notice that you're holding your breath, barely able to remind yourself to keep breathing. One of the doors swings open, making you jump at the abrupt motion. A tall man peers down at your shorter self, eyeing you intently. His hair is pitch black and came to two catlike peaks at the top, with facial hair that hugs his jaw but stopped above his lip and chin, leaving only a small amount of stubble. His eyes are a light hazel color, resembling two rounded drops of honey and his body is quite built. He wore a white, wife-pleaser that showed every muscle under his lightly tanned skin, along with a dark blue, denim pair of jeans.

Your breath hitches in your throat, as your eyes meet his. The stare lasts longer than you'd like, but when his hardened expression turns curious, you find it easier to find your voice. "Is this Xavier's School for the Gifted?" You ask sheepishly, searching his eyes for a silent response. The man looks you up and down, then to the gate that you had entered from. Once his eyes meet yours again, he smirks. "Do you know how to read?" He questions, lifting an eyebrow. You nod quickly, feeling quite small at the hands of his satirical response. His features change for a third time, and he smiles. "Then I think you're at the right place."

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:

You try to match his smile, but it comes off as nervous. He chuckles at your shy exterior before opening the door further and allowing you entrance.

Part 2: Nightmares

[yuri-for-businesswomen]

i have left

hey everyone this will probably be the last thing i post on this blog albeit im keeping it up for resources.

im eternally grateful for how this community has helped me through prostitution and everything, i have amazing mutuals and i have learned so much 💜

but it has become toxic. many of yall cant handle disagreement and default to being as condescending and obnoxious as possible. one of us calling out a post is not enough, we have to dog pile everyone with a slightly shitty opinion. some of yall have severely lost the plot if you ever had it in the first place. not everything is that serious, especially when it comes to online drama.

im sick of it. so many engage in the same bullshit we accuse online trans activists of. this is an echo chamber. so many just mindlessly parrot slogans and arguments. what im very sick of is seeing single tweets or posts by a nobody, usually anonymous, being spread as receipts and shit. you know how annoying it is when everything a self proclaimed terf somewhere on social media says is taken by trans activists at face value and representative of the community when theyre not even radical feminist, just transphobic? yeah. yet a lot of yall do the same by saving and sharing „receipts“ where some random person who claims theyre trans (or not even) says some fucked up or out of pocket shit. you will always find people like that online, from any politicial „camp“ or ideological alignment!

a lot of yall seem to think that debate is about winning and not like, having an exchange of arguments and let the audience come to their own conclusion

and i just dont hate trans people. in fact i feel kinship to any female or homosexual trans person, anyone except heterosexual males. many of yall dont even realise how male centered you are when you more or less equal the trans community to heterosexual men who have a fetish for humiliation and forced feminisation or whatever. who exist and are an issue and i do wish the trans community at large would distance themselves from those men, but its not all there is to it. yes i agree that we need to protect vulnerable young people, girls and especially lesbians and gay boys, from being pushed into transitioning, i think the age of consent should be put at 21 or something, but we have to acknowledge and consider that there are people who have already transitioned and will transition in the future and i just dont understand how you cant have any empathy for them. no matter what you think about transition, many trans people ARE vulnerable and marginalised. plus consider how many detransitioned women are in this community yet yall talk about trans people as mutilated and shit its gross. in the end we can only try to establish structures that keep people from self harming, but an adult of sound mind has the right to do so anyways, including plastic surgery and trans surgeries. and i want to keep my arms open to them; but a lot of rhetoric around it spread on here will only alienate them further.

right now im saving all my essays in notes so its out of my mind. i have missed the community a lot so maybe i will return at some point but i have also been feeling better since i stopped being on radblr. i miss the rare valuable input and thoughts by other women but overall i have felt unaligned with how things have been handled on here. it has been mostly negative instead of constructive and pragmatic. ive had the impression some of yall enjoy the „being in the in-group“ community aspect more than actually being here for feminist exchange. lack of nuance, lack of empathy, lack of reason. it pains me but i have more and more come to understand why people just block us without engaging on general suspicion because ive also come to be annoyed with some of yall engaging with posts - and im on „your side“.

anyways im doing okay, im going to drug counselling regularly now and am trying to establish a stable life for those of you who inquired, and i hope anyone reading this is self reflected enough to know whether this applies to her or not. bye

[lunarlianna]

Planets in the 8th house

I know a lot of you may don’t really like this house but trust me it’s more lovely than it seems and as with any other house it has it’s ups and downs. Now let’s understand what it’s up with this house, first it’s where Scorpio and Pluto rules, also as a side note Mars feels pretty comfortable here as well, in traditional astrology Mars was the ruler of Scorpio. It dives deep into subjects such as intimacy, sex, secrets, fears, death, rebirth, shared money and possession. It’s the house of transformation and occult, deep psychology inside as well. It’s also a pretty karmic house. Here is how each planet behaves in the house.

The Sun: an individual with the Sun in the 8th house seeks deep, intimate relationships but may face challenges as they tend to give excessively. They might experience ups and downs due to others' casual approach to relationships. Healing often involves addressing a father's emotional impact and seeking fulfilment through connections. The path to growth lies in balancing self-reliance with meaningful, committed partnerships, allowing for personal shine and transformation through shared resources. A curiosity for mysticism and the occult converges with a aspiration for financial stability, potentially influenced by inheritance.

The Moon: drives a deep desire for security, sometimes leading to seeking it through others' resources. This can evoke self-doubt, possessiveness, and psychic sensitivity. Transformative partnerships or marriages might bring financial gain. They approach relationships seriously, often overextending, leading to turmoil; finding balance through self-sufficiency brings happiness. Sensitive to unspoken nuances, they find peace by releasing expectations, channelling probing curiosity into worldly understanding, seeking connection through intimate relationships and a quest for broader meaning. Gains or inheritances linked to women are common, yet a sense of connection remains elusive.

Mercury: in the 8th House gifts you with analytical powers, suited for research, detective work, and understanding complex matters like taxes or insurance. Your inquisitive nature drives you to unravel the depths of life's mysteries, though this may lead to concerns over finances and a tendency to gossip. Your mind dwells on profound subjects like death, healing, and psychic phenomena. Mercury's presence here offers a valuable perspective, helping you discuss and process intense emotions, easing the pain associated with this house. It enhances rational clarity within the realm of misunderstood emotions, serving as a valve for emotional release and facilitating conscious understanding.

Venus: in the 8th House grants you access to material comforts and potential prosperity, often through a partner's contributions or inheritance. While you enjoy sensual pleasures, be mindful of avoiding overindulgence or laziness. Your attraction to healing, metaphysical pursuits, and magic might thrive. This placement bestows a harmonious touch to intimate connections, making give-and-take feel natural, appreciating the sensual without burdening the relationship. Challenges, such as losses and responsibilities, are handled with understanding, adding a sense of kindness to your relationships.

Mars: in the 8th House fuels your drive for research, uncovering secrets, and intense pursuits, but challenges arise as desires clash with the give-and-take nature of relationships. Financial issues, possibly through a partner, highlight the need to diminish money's importance. Struggles may emerge in sharing resources and emotions within partnerships, causing emotional outbursts. Learning to channel Mars' willpower constructively, alongside exploring healing or surgery interests, can lead to personal growth despite these challenges. Understanding and managing the intensity of your desires and their impact on relationships becomes key.

Jupiter: in the 8th House blesses you with optimism and faith in humanity. Financial gains through partnerships, marriage, or inheritance are possible. Your strong emotional depth can be harnessed for psychic abilities, enabling you to bring upliftment and healing to others. Jupiter's presence in this house facilitates an effortless give-and-take dynamic, aided by your universal outlook, allowing you to avoid getting entangled in overly emotional relationship issues. Your emphasis on genuine, giving connections attracts reciprocal generosity.

Saturn: in the 8th House endows you with diligent work ethic and patience, yet your pursuit of financial security might lead to self-imposed social and sexual restrictions. Transform this drive into soul growth via wisdom gained through partnership relationships. Issues around abuse, power, and past hurts may arise. Challenges involving inheritances, shared finances, and intimacy emerge due to Saturn's hesitance to let go. This position can make relationships tough, leading to commitment issues. Overcoming Saturn's grip fosters eventual happiness and harmony, teaching valuable lessons of release and trust.

Uranus: with this placement, your intuition and psychic senses are heightened, drawing you to the mysteries of life and the occult. Nervous tension may arise, and unexpected gains or losses in shared resources are possible. Balancing your need for freedom with emotional connection is key, as Uranus' resistance to commitment can challenge relationships. Remember to stay open to intimacy while navigating life's uncertainties.

Neptune: in the 8th House enhances your intuition and empathy, but it's important to set clear boundaries to avoid relationship challenges. Embrace healing and afterlife interests while ensuring honesty in financial matters. Remember to balance selflessness with self-care, fostering healthier and more fulfilling connections. Your compassionate nature is a strength in navigating these dynamics.

Pluto: In the 8th House, your intuition and business sense thrive, drawing you to metaphysical realms. While inheritance and clairvoyant potential shine, be cautious of financial complexities in partnerships. Transformative experiences spark a fascination with life's mysteries. Pluto's influence urges open communication to ease power struggles, offering healing through release and growth. Embrace vulnerability for stronger, more compassionate relationships.

COPYRIGHT ‼️

Do not copy my posts or you will be sued for copyright infringement. All it takes is copying me a few times and it is considered illegal due to the copyright claim written at the bottom of my posts

Do not rewrite/copy my observations and post them to your Tiktok, Tumblr, Instagram

[deepdreamnights]

Hey, you know how I said there was nothing ethical about Adobe's approach to AI? Well whaddya know?

Adobe wants your team lead to contact their customer service to not have your private documents scraped!

This isn't the first of Adobe's always-online subscription-based products (which should not have been allowed in the first place) to have sneaky little scraping permissions auto-set to on and hidden away, but this is the first one (I'm aware of) where you have to contact customer service to turn it off for a whole team.

Now, I'm on record for saying I see scraping as fair use, and it is. But there's an aspect of that that is very essential to it being fair use: The material must be A) public facing and B) fixed published work.

All public facing published work is subject to transformative work and academic study, the use of mechanical apparatus to improve/accelerate that process does not change that principle. Its the difference between looking through someone's public instagram posts and reading through their drafts folder and DMs.

But that's not the kind of work that Adobe's interested in. See, they already have access to that work just like everyone else. But the in-progress work that Creative Cloud gives them access to, and the private work that's never published that's stored there isn't in LIAON. They want that advantage.

And that's valuable data. For an example: having a ton of snapshots of images in the process of being completed would be very handy for making an AI that takes incomplete work/sketches and 'finishes' it. That's on top of just being general dataset grist.

But that work is, definitionally, not published. There's no avenue to a fair use argument for scraping it, so they have to ask. And because they know it will be an unpopular ask, they make it a quiet op-out.

This was sinister enough when it was Photoshop, but PDF is mainly used for official documents and forms. That's tax documents, medical records, college applications, insurance documents, business records, legal documents. And because this is a server-side scrape, even if you opt-out, you have no guarantee that anyone you're sending those documents to has done so.

So, in case you weren't keeping score, corps like Adobe, Disney, Universal, Nintendo, etc all have the resources to make generative AI systems entirely with work they 'own' or can otherwise claim rights to, and no copyright argument can stop them because they own the copyrights.

They just don't want you to have access to it as a small creator to compete with them, and if they can expand copyright to cover styles and destroy fanworks they will. Here's a pic Adobe trying to do just that:

If you want to know more about fair use and why it applies in this circumstance, I recommend the Electronic Frontier Foundation over the Copyright Alliance.

[drabblesandimagines]

Bold

Joshua Rosfield x female reader, fluff Commissioned piece, 2,820 words - thank you to the commissioner for commissioning me, and for allowing me to share on here too! x

The Imperial soldier squeezes your cheeks so hard between armour-clad thumb and forefinger that it’ll leave bruises, digging into your jaw to direct your half-lidded gaze at him. You’d been staring in the corner when he’d come in – head pounding, shivering one minute and sweltering the next, barely reacting until he’d grabbed hold of you. You’ve lost count of how many days you’ve now been shackled in this damp, dark and cold cell awaiting punishment, how many hours it’s been since you’ve had anything to eat or drink.

“We are gonna make a fine example out of you in the morning, my lady.” He snarls out the title with distaste. “Filthy Branded sympathizer, hm? Well, you’ll be pleased to hear if you love them so much, you can die with them.”

He shoves your head against the wall and gets to his feet. You don’t say anything in retaliation – don’t have the strength - but hear him leave the cell, locking the door behind him, as always. This is it, then. A public execution is how you will meet your fate, alongside some poor Bearers. It used to be rare that Bearers be executed, too much of a valuable resource for the Empire, but they seem to be growing keener on it ever since the Mothercrystals began to fall.

Was it really so wrong what you’d been doing - giving Bearers a warm bed and a hot meal when their days were so already so cruelly numbered? You owed a Bearer your life, after all. In those days after the fall of Phoenix Gate, they had helped you escape out of Rosalie before the Iron Blood and Empire could descend.

How life had changed since that moment.

You curl up on the floor, shackles clanking against the concrete as you move, and close your eyes, hoping that your last night of dreams will be of happier times.

--

Rosalie, Capital of Rosaria, Year 860

It had been easy enough slipping in to the banquet hall. By this point of the wedding feast, everyone was far too merry on wine and ale to pay any mind to the girl who followed in the footsteps of a couple of Shields, just relieved from their duty.

You scanned the high table for your target, fidgeting with the silver pendant around your neck – a nervous habit your mother scolded you for constantly, “Ladies do not fidget” ­-and smiled as you saw Joshua sat in one of the high-backed chairs, alone, poking at something on his dinner plate with a sour look on his face.

He didn’t enjoy these functions - to have the Phoenix attend such an event was seen as a blessing and honour upon the newlyweds. Elwin was away with the war effort, his usual chair empty as a sign of respect, but Anabella had abandoned her younger son’s side for once, conversing with some of the Imperial noblemen who had travelled to the duchy especially for the celebrations.

You hurry between tables and guests, taking cover, until you reach the end of the high table and duck under the table cloth to crawl on your hands and knees to below where Joshua is sitting. You’re thankful you’re dressed in navy this evening - your governess would scold you rotten if you came home with stains again.

“Psst!” You tug at the hem of his robes sharply, causing him to look down in shock. Joshua’s widen in surprise before a shy smile develops. He looks around the room to make sure no attention is on him at that moment and slides down off his chair to join you on the floor.

“What are you doing here?”

 You grin, proud of yourself. “My governess thinks I am practicing needlework with Lady Jill, so I thought I’d see if you were need in company.”

“You snuck in!” Joshua gasps in realization. You’ve always been more adventurous, more bold than him, though it was obviously much harder when he was under his mother’s watch.

“Mm. I walked in right behind the Shields, if you would believe it. They didn’t even see me.” You’re almost giddy. “Now, have you managed to have any fun at all?”

He pouts, fiddling with the hem of his robe. “Not really. They had cake, but Mother said I couldn’t until I had eaten everything on my plate.”

“Let me guess – carrots?”

He gives a curt nod.

You roll your eyes, he’s always been particularly averse to the vegetable. “Wait a moment.” You crawl out from your hiding place, heading towards an abandoned table – the dancing had started in earnest now – and swiped a piece of untouched cake from a plate, balancing it in your palm as you hurry back to your hiding place.

“Here,” you break apart the delicate sponge with your fingers, offering him half – the bigger half – and smile. “Let’s share a piece.”

Joshua beams, accepting the offering and raising it up to his lips to take a delicate bite. It’s delicious and so sugary sweet, topped with icing - Mother is always forcing him to eat things she deems good and nutritious for him to aid with his ill health.

The two of you eat your cake in silence as you peek out under the table cloth, watching the ladies’ skirts twirl across the dance floor as the festivities continue.

“What are they doing out there now?”

“Dancing.” You reply, almost wistfully.

“Do you…” he hesitates, brushes the crumbs off his hands, “Do you wish to dance?”

“My governess says I have two left feet,” you lament, dropping the cloth to turn back to him, fiddling with your necklace once more.

“That is untrue”, Joshua protests. “I saw you dance at the First Shield celebrations – you were graceful. Mother even agreed.”

“No,” you grow a little bashful then, shy of compliments. “Plus, that wasn’t proper dancing, that was-“

A sword pokes cautiously through the table cloth then, making the two of you jump.

“Well, well, what’s this - an intruder in the Great Hall?” Your heart skips a beat at being caught, watching as the sword carefully lifts up the cloth and Clive pops his head through, a curious smile on his face in a crouched position as he takes in the two of you.

“My lady, your governess is causing quite the commotion in search of you. She appears to be under the impression that you were practicing your needlework with Jill.”

“Ah...”

“However, Jill informed her that you had been, but had just headed homewards prior to her arrival. You may wish to head back before she finds you are, in fact, not.”

“Thank you, my lord. Please pass on my thanks to Lady Jill too.” You bow your head in respect – always have been a little nervous of Clive despite him being very sweet - before beginning to crawl out past him. You pause, turn your head over your shoulder and beam at the blonde-haired boy. “Goodnight, Joshua.”

“Goodnight.” He smiles, bashfully.

As you disappear, Clive shakes his head with a knowing smile at the Phoenix, who scowls in response.

“You’re making that face again, brother.”

“What face?”

“The one all the adults do.”

Clive sighs, ruffling his brother’s hair. “You’ll understand when you’re older. Come on,” he offers Joshua his hand. “Out of there before Mother notices.”

--

Year 678

You sleep in feverish spits and spurts, a hoarse-sounding cough wracking your lungs until dawn breaks, where you are dragged up to your feet and along to a wagon for transportation, a group of three Bearers already within. You’re barely conscious but you don’t fight it, perhaps the fever will take you before the noose can.

Everything happens in a haze – a bumpy wagon ride, the clash of metal on metal… You swear someone picks you up with gentle hands rather than rough ones, bundles you in something warm and soft, a gentle bobbing sensation as if you are on a boat…

And then there’s a moment where you see stormy blue eyes that seem familiar from long ago, a flicker of recognition…

Then darkness.

--

Clive storms into the infirmary, you cradled in his arms and Tarja looks up, ready to chide him for once again interrupting Joshua’s check-up, but her prepared scowl drops as she sees what he carries.

“What’s happened?”

“Three Bearers incoming – no injuries, as far as I can tell. Cole says this one hasn’t been properly conscious since they rescued her – a fever, mayhaps.”

“Right,” Tarja nods her head towards an empty bed. “Put her down.”

He places you down, gently, on the bed besides Joshua, who had got to his feet in the commotion – trying to take advantage of it to sneak away from Tarja’s ministrations.

“Joshua, wait.” Clive grabs his brother’s arm, halting him firmly in his tracks. “Take a look at her face – a good one. Am I mistaken, or isn’t it…?” He trails off, looking for confirmation.

Joshua quirks an eyebrow, confused by his brother’s request, but he complies all the same. He walks back over to the bedside and gazes down upon your face, paired with the pendent hanging around your neck and he swears his heart stops.

--

There’s a dull thud in your head as consciousness returns, your eyes flutter open to take in a wooden ceiling, but not one of a wagon. You’re lying on a soft mattress, covered in a blanket and, most peculiarly, someone has their hand resting upon yours.

You turn your head and stare at the blonde man sat besides you, who meets your gaze with a familiar bashful smile.

“Hello,” his voice is soft, just as you remember. “I do not know if you remem-“

You don’t let him finish his sentence, sitting up and throwing your arms around his neck. He’s a little taken back by the sudden act of affection, grunting a little at the impact, but it soon turns into a chuckle as he wraps his arms back around you.

“I thought you dead.” You mumble into his shoulder, voice hoarse but thick with unshed tears. You pull back, wanting to take in his face. “Or am I? Tell me, is it really you, Joshua?”

He nods, beaming now – tears brimming in his own eyes. “It is me, my lady.”

“But how…?” Your question is cut off by that awful wracking cough, burning your lungs and making your eyes water. Joshua rubs your back – he knows all too well how painful coughs can be, after all.

“Easy. Tarja, our healer, will ban me from your bedside if I cause too much excitement. You must rest. There will plenty of time for conversation later, I promise you.”

You reach out for his hand and squeeze it in acknowledgement, trying to catch your breath as your cough finally begins to subside.

“Here.” He drops his hand from your back and twists awkwardly, reaching for a tankard of water by the bedside and offers it to you. “Small sips, now.”

You take it gratefully, being mindful of Joshua’s instruction despite a dreadful thirst and sip slowly, keen to return to conversation, so many questions running through your mind.

He gently takes the tankard once you have finished its contents and places it down, a pout now on his lips.

“I beg you excuse me – Tarja will be most displeased if she discovers you have awakened and I have not informed her. I will be but a moment.”

He gets to his feet – he’s certainly taller than you now, still of a slim build and almost all leg - and you squeeze his hand again firmly as you could hold. “I fear this is a dream.”

Joshua smiles – that same sweet smile you remember from childhood – and brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss across your knuckles. “I assure you this is most real, my lady.”

 --

After a few more days in the infirmary, plied with various elixirs and tonics and strict bedrest, Joshua staying firmly by your side every waking moment that he was permitted to, Tarja finally deems you recovered enough to leave. He is sure to take your hand and escort you down the stairs, giving you a grand tour of the Hideaway, so you found it to be called.

“Joshua?” Jill calls for him as she descends the stairs from Clive’s chambers – the two of you having just done a lap of the Ale Hall. “Clive would like a word.”

“Of course,” Joshua nods, giving you an apologetic smile before he turns to ascend the stairs. Jill quickly swoops in to take his place, looping her arm through yours and leading you out of the Ale Hall and he can’t help but muse that he had somewhat monopolized your time as late. He knocks on the door of his brother’s chambers once and is bade to enter, finding Clive seated at his writing desk, two tankards in front of him and a chair waiting on the other side. The other Fire Dominant gestures towards it and as Joshua sits, he wastes no time.

“Now,” Clive pushes the tankard of ale towards his brother, “Out with it.”

Joshua looks bemused. “Out with what?”

“You’re in love.”

He lightly scoffs, but there is no hiding the crimson in his cheeks. “Nonsense.”

“We all saw it when you were children, Joshua, and we can all see it again now.”

Joshua takes a deep sip from his tankard, trying to avoid Clive’s gaze.

“Look, I do not mean to push you, just… with what we know about Ultima, I do not wish for you to have regrets going forward. I wish I had told Jill years ago of my feelings, and  I cannot sit here idle and allow you to do the same.”

“What if she does not feel the same?”

Clive smiles at him – the same smile he and all the adults did back when he was merely a boy – and he knows what he must do.

--

“My lady,” he offers you hand once more, “Would you care to join me some fresh air? The night is quite pleasant and the view from the observation desk exquisite.”

You take it – it feels more and more natural every time – and nod. “I would love nothing more.”

You head up the spiraling stair case – Joshua’s hand still holding your own, another resting on the small of your back and emerge at the top. He was right - it’s a clear, moon-lit night, Metia twinkling and stars down upon you, the still waters of the blighted lake almost like a mirror.

He leads you over to the bench and the two of you take a seat, for a moment just enjoying each other’s company in silence, though you soon notice the twitch in the Phoenix’s leg.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, I…” He looks down a moment, before meeting your gaze with his own again. “I wanted to thank you.”

“Me - whatever for?”

He places his hand hesitantly upon yours, clasped politely in your lap. “For being my steadfast friend when I was growing up, and now, to reunite with you after all these years, to see the beautiful young woman you’ve become – still as kind and honest and… brave.”

“Brave?” You laugh at the suggestion. “No, not me – not in comparison to Clive’s merry band.”

“My lady, please don’t dismiss yourself, and especially not when I am trying my best to pay you compliments, which I see you are still no good at accepting.” He teases.

“Some things never change, I suppose.”

“Yet some things do.”

There is no time to question as Joshua leans forward then, cupping your palm with his hand and stares deeply into your eyes, making your cheeks prickle with heat.

“May I be as bold to request a kiss, my lady?”

You don’t even answer, leaning to forward to meet his lips with yours, placing your hand upon his shoulder. It is gentle – as Joshua has always been and will always be – and soft, slowly increasing in pace as the two of you grow in confidence and passion. His arm wraps around your waist, tugging you closer, bodies pressed as he runs his tongue across your bottom lip, seeking entrance and -

There is a creak of a floorboard and the two of you break apart, flustered by the interruption, hearts pounding. A sheepish Clive is stood there, Jill trying to stifle a giggle behind him, the two of them now trying to head back down the stairs.

“Brother,” Joshua calls, “I assure you we are no longer in need of a chaperone.”

“I can tell.” Clive replies, his voice carrying from up the stairs.

“Now, sweet one,” Joshua places his hand back upon your cheek, arm once more around your waist to pull you against him. “Where were we?” ---

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

[bitter-bats-cult-of-the-moon]

Demon or Deity? Deciphering Spirits

How to Confirm That You’re Talking to a God or Goddess

You can thank St. Augustine of Hippo for this. In the early 5th century, he wrote a theological essay against Paganism titled, “On the Divination of Demons.”

St. Augustine’s mother was Christian, and his father was Pagan. He understood both sides. He wrote many philosophical arguments for Christianity, his largest being The City of God.

In "On the Divination of Demons," Augustine fought back against an Oracle predicting the invasion of Serapis's temple. He argued that demons spoke to this Oracle. He argued that All Pagan Gods are Demons in disguise. He ridiculed fortune tellers and future predictions comparing them to the circus.

Do the arguments hold some sort of validity?

While Spirits can impersonate Deities this guy can now be pushed away from the conversation.

I’ll ask that question again.

Can Spirits Impersonate Deities?

The short answer is Yes.

The long answer depends on your experience level and knowledge.

If you are not used to the deity’s signs and how they communicate or you do not know which red flags to look out for, you are prone to deceit.

Red Flags

Messages drastically change.

For example, recently you received a sign from the Goddess Hekate. She wants to work with you.

The next week, another message tells you that She does not like you. Deities rarely change their mind without good reason. Double-check the divination.

People do everything for you.  

Deities do not need to go through others to speak to you. Even if you cannot hear Them directly, deities can contact you in different ways. If someone else does a reading that sounds completely different, question it. Especially if it’s random and not requested. Do not use other people to translate things for you all the time. Spiritual journeys are personal. They are meant for you, and a lot of people get hurt this way. Other individuals love taking advantage of people using them for their own motives. Just be careful out there.

Overly negative or apocalyptic.

I've heard an unfortunate amount of people claim that the world was going to end after contacting their spirits. Why would they let go of any worshippers telling them that? Why would they give someone a sense that they are the chosen one? Question that. No one is special. We are all here for the human experience. Try dealing with that first even if you don’t want to.

The entity is trying to force you into things.

You do not need to answer spirits. A deity could ask you to worship Them. You can also say no. With years of experience, I have never heard of a deity punishing someone for not working with Them. If a message sounds like a threat, then question everything, and it’s probably best to ignore it.

How to Guarantee That You’re Speaking to a Deity

Ask the same question several times.

Use your preferred divination technique writing down all the answers to your questions. After one day has passed, repeat the same method rephrasing the questions asking the spirit again. Sometimes there are inconsistencies. Question what feels right and what does not.

Thoughts belong to whom?

Are the thoughts yours or are the thoughts external from you? Sometimes strong emotions are mistaken for spiritual signs. It’s easy to get caught up in your own head and let it take over hijacking the metaphysical exercise. Always question this. Did you anticipate a specific answer? This can also lead to derailment. It doesn’t hurt to ask again to gain confirmation. Before contacting your deity, stabilize your emotional state.

Gathering valuable resources.

Contrary to what I just said you can seek outside opinions for valuable resources. Become familiar with the deity’s information beforehand and ask about other peoples’ experiences. Just don’t let people take over the work or tell you how to think. Try to do the work yourself. Research is key.

Different techniques for you.

Try a different form of divination to see if the answers are around the same or greatly vary. This won’t hurt and it will help you learn more. Trust your instincts in spirit work. It’s okay to question things.

Protection orders.

If there is constant anxiety and worry, then do yourself the favor and put-up protection wards before spiritual communications begin. It will give you some peace of mind and it doesn’t hurt anything at all.

[christiandomme]

I just have to say something about girl dinner and girl math. I understand that trends can turn fast and we need to to address them as they are, not as they “should be”, but as someone that watched both of these trends emerge, they were not initially about obscuring women’s humanity or material nature. They were a commentary on social acrobatics women go through.

Girl dinner is about performance; girl math is about permission.

Girl dinner is what a woman feeds herself when she isn’t worried about preparing something to share with a guest, partner, child, etc. Maybe it’s 27 pizza rolls with no side dish in sight, maybe it’s something with minimum labor like chips, dip and a pack of applesauce, maybe it’s three candy bars because that’s what you felt like ‘and peanuts have protein, right?’. Whatever your girl dinner is, it’s the food you eat when you don’t have to perform (in both senses of the word) meal preparation for others.

Now, there is a valuable juxtaposition here to what the freedom of what girl dinner should be and what it is. My sister eats at least 30% of her meals as the leftovers of what her kids don’t eat and she doesn’t make herself a plate. And a pic of that #girldinner certainly would have something to say.

Girl math has a couple layers. Some of it is about naming realistic ways of thinking about spending and saving and prioritization that would be mocked if talked about with people that aren’t in an overlapping life experience. I enjoyed a tik tok I saw by a male economist talking about the idea that “If I have a gift card it’s free” aligns with well known/well respected economic principle…but also, I saw dozens of videos before that of men shaking their head in bemused confusion over that ‘girl math’ principle. But at least now we can take it seriously because it’s been approved by [masculine] academia!

But I think a big part of “girl math” is also that many women hold themselves/are held to a standard of having to hyper justify their wants and they experience guilt if they give themselves more than they ‘need’ even while working to fulfill the wants of those around them.

“If you get $20 off when you spend $50, and one of the items is on clearance, and I get store points, and I’ll use it at least twice a week, I’m basically making money if I buy this thing I want!” is a guilt-free arithmetic of giving yourself permission to fulfill a want.

And obviously women are not the only demographic that experience guilt or hesitance around spending money or time or resources on things they want and doing “the math” to make it permissible but it is widespread enough among women that it earned a self-label for their flavors of it.

[greyfics]

entry 8.5: a side-plot in which norm gets the fuck out.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

subject: norm maclean

fic type: smart relatable underdog side character gets spotlight,

word count: 2.85K

inspo: I really just need to see norm gtfo of that vault lol, I feel like he's got a fighting chance you know?

cw: spoilers for fallout season one  

summary: an overseer that is a brain in a vat. a series of experiments concealed behind the front of a subterranean utopia. the convenient relocation of the last of the people norm cared about- the last of the people questioning the fragile reign of the overseers, and what they might be hiding. norm desperately needs to leave, to find his sister- before he becomes just another one of bud's buds..

- °•. ✦ .•° -

"I suggest you wait it out in your father's pod, unless you want to starve to death- not much food in here, except the occasional large bug."

He is frozen. A small, quivering fist slowly slips down a firmly sealed door- were these vaults reinforced havens, or were they preemptive tombs?- the fist unfurls, as the wrist goes limp and the body connected numbs spare for the pitter patter of palpitations spawned from that very realisation.

His face is absent of blood, and despite the fact he has not yet fatalistically marched over to a cryogenic chamber to further bury himself in this pit, the numbness fades to a chill that kicks his feet into a frenzied pacing.

The robo-brain does a slow, awkward 180° twist, "All that is going to do for you is burn valuable energy that I simply don't have to give back to you, Norm. See, I'm sure you know this if you paid attention during your pristine pre-years education programme, but the human body requires-"

"Just shut up for a second." Is the flat-toned, snappy response Norm gives as he rubs his temples, the repetitive sensation a focal point to ground his shaking limbs, to ground a flurry of rarely seen irrational thoughts in that calculating mind.

Right now, it looks as though his only options are slamming himself against the door fruitlessly until he collapses from exhaustion and inevitably dies of dehydration or starvation, or to get into a pod on the other end of the room and pray that somehow, he is woken up- but what then? what would I even have to wake up to? Norm reflects upon the denizens of Vault 33- the way they force a smile and idle onwards so ignorantly; treating murderers as naughty houseguests, ignoring the slow dissimilation of their vault's security, it's vital resources and population becoming more sparse by the week. Even if there was hope brewing for a better future somewhere on the surface, there's no way that help would reach him down here.

Besides, he was just a problem for Vault 33- he always had been. He recalls the bitter comments about his unenthusiastic demeanour- the fearful confusion directed at his monotony- how lonely, how isolating a life down here is as an anomaly of the herd. With him removed from the equation, and Betty able to sleep at night thinking of him not as dead, but simply as in a rather permanent state of sleep, she would have no reason to wake him up- he who might expose the secrets they had desperately tried to keep locked away for so long. He was better left removed from the vault- left down here.

The reminder of his present predicament begins to suffocate him again, as his eyes flit between the walls and his breath picks up pace, the panic attack coming back for a dizzying second wave. Breathe. Breathe- I can't breathe. I'm going to die down here- this place is a big heaping metal tomb and I have to get out- Norm had never felt so overencumbered at the thought of being buried so deep beneath the surface before, but for the first time ever the urge to scratch his way to the surface was overriding in him the fear of the vultures circling above. He thinks about this- pauses his pacing entirely, and thinks some more. The buzz of an idea begins to spark slowly to fruition in Norm's mind.

It was true that it was better for Betty that he be kept somewhere outside of Vault 33- but maybe he'd even less of a threat left somewhere... else outside of 33? Maybe somewhere he could be more useful? He almost leaps from the exhilaration of having any kind of possible plan c at all in this situation- but his temperament keeps him still- and though his lips remain a flat, pursed line, a playful light dances behind the young genius' eyes, "Locking me in here won't stop Vault 33 from falling apart- it will just guarantee it. I'm your solution." He calmly declares- naturally, Bud's first move is to shut him down, but he is prepared for that, "Norman, you know I can't do that- and you really shouldn't worry about Vault 33 anymore, Betty has things completely-"

"-under control? If Betty had things under control, then how and why did a vault dweller manage to break into her office and trick you into letting them into Vault 31?" Bud stammers, juts to one side and then the other as he awkwardly attempts to give some justifiable explanation to Norm's question.

The bot stills, and lets a sigh out of its speakers, "There may be some... complications to the planned course of action- you being here being one of them, I should remind you- but I'm sure Betty will work through them and get everything back to normal soon enough. What good will it do us to send you to the surface? That would mean opening the vault doors, and risking the safety of everyone inside-" Norm shakes his head at this, takes a step towards the bot as he parries back, "-raiders managed to infiltrate our vault through 32 already, and the main vault door was opened twice after that. Do you really think one more time could hurt?"

The little brain in a pot makes an exasperated crying noise, and shakes itself as emphatically as it can, "But what would be the point in that, buddy, if we can just keep you tucked safely away in the most secure vault of the three down here, and... not open the door at all? None of our problems will be solved by another person leaving." A rare, triumphant grin floats onto Norm's face, and Bud makes a reflexive sharp shuffle backwards at the unnatural site, "If we don't replace our water filtration chip, then eventually Vault 33 runs out of water- and if the vault dwellers don't overthrow the overseer and leave by then? Everyone will die.-"

"Oh my god, why did he smile when he said tha-"

"-Just listen. Vault 32's supplies clearly ran out a long time ago, and evidently no-one from Vault 31 was gonna get up for a glass of water during their 200-year long power nap. By the look on Betty's face when she found out, I'm guessing there isn't a back-up." Bud is back to being completely still and silent now. Norm basks in a moment of captured quiet, takes a couple slow steps to steady the nervous shakes as he deployed as much charisma as he was capable, "You could just keep me in here, and let Betty send someone else to the surface for a replacement- but those people? The other dwellers? They're built for vault life- they fit in here-"

He wavers a little, a lump forming in his throat- but digresses, "I don't. I'm not strong- but I'm quick, and I'm smart... and, I might be a coward- or I was, once- but I'm beginning to realise this place is no better than whatever might be waiting up there. Nobody really knows what they're doing- not you, not Betty- maybe not even my dad. And I don't want to keep sitting around waiting to die when I could be doing something."- I could be helping Lucy, I should have- "So send me. I'll go find a replacement. I'll bring it back- and then neither you nor Betty will ever see me again. You'll be solving two problems with one stone."

The brain-in-a-vat that is Bud spends a painfully long time just sitting there and glowing, still taking in all that Norm had argued, malfunct in his dilemma between maintaining protocol or deviating from protocol for the sake of maintaining the protocol, honestly upset that he was having to do any deep deliberation at all regarding what he had been informed would be a rather simple and satisfying job. When he makes his decision, it comes with a disappointed, exasperated breath- and then a slow, clumsy spin once again, as he veers himself back into the door terminus access point.

With a blip and a hiss, the door that Norm had believed not too long ago to have sealed his fate begins to steadily unlock itself once again. He cries out with desperate relief and punches the air, before maintaining his composure and striding over to the door. He gets as close as he can, in case his thankfully not forever-friend decides to change his mind last minute. He hears the awful creaking of the vault door opening ahead, and dashes for it without even bothering to say goodbye to Bud- no time to spare, I need to leave now- Betty might not be so stupid. The door rolls to the left, his feet hardly make a sound as they dance across the metal grated platform to freedom-

And falter, pause, reverse a few steps when the figure of Betty Pearson is revealed but a few seconds later, arms crossed, already waiting for the door to roll back open.

Oh god, I think I'm having a heart attack. I think I might just die right now. I think that might be for the best.

...He does not die, and though he is grateful, he is also mildly disappointed that he still has to face Betty. She remains still, silent- her expression does not reveal much surprise at finding him here, but her stasis demands him to speak. Thinking of all she has done to this vault, and what little good she has done for it, he steels himself, and he glares back at her, his tone assertive as he speaks, "I'm going to the surface, and before you say anything-"

"Yes, you're right. You are going to the surface." She replies, steady and quiet,"I-" he is the one to stammer to a standstill this time, "I... am?" She steps towards him, and it takes all his will not to flinch away as a superficially endearing arm firmly braces around his shoulders, guiding him away from Vault 31, "Although at times I'm sure it seems as though I have... overlooked certain hardships that have come to challenge us all in this vault," -'overlooked' is an understatement, and a pretty ironic thing to do when your job title is overseer- "-but I've simply been thinking about the best options for our future. With our friends and family... rehomed, and our guests taken care of, I think it's time we begin dealing with some of our more long-term problems, too." The phrasing sends a chill across Norm's neck, which flows through the rest of his body as Betty guides him around a corner to bear witness to the remaining dwellers of 33, whooping and clapping in celebration for something he did not yet know.

Look closer. He notices the pause, the way they look past him to the overseer before they burst into their frenzied display- there are a couple eyebrows knitted upwards, the faintest flicker of a tear in the corner of an eye or a puffy redness where tears were wiped away to conceal the evidence of a negative emotion.

Some have slanted postures, clap a little slower- don't meet his gaze; they seem guilty of something, guilty of the relief that their body betrays.

Do they already know I'm leaving? How could they, unless-

"As I was telling everyone, Norm selflessly asked me for permission to go out onto the surface and solve our water chip crisis- of course, we do not often open our vault doors, and I felt too close to the matter to feel capable of making the decision myself- especially given the possibility that opening the vault door might threaten our friends in 31 too! So, I sent Norm to speak with Overseer Askins in Vault 31 to see whether he believes that this brave quest should be allowed. Of course, this affects all of us, too- but after talking it through with everyone, we've all agreed that however sad it will be to see you leave us- for a while, of course- it is definitely for the best."

A couple dwellers nod- some intentionally, some just in a lull of subconscious agreement even as their faces feign sadness. It stings to see how fast they were willing to get rid of him- it stings to be let go without a fight. The 'for a while' is simply salt in the wound; insulting to even pretend at this point that anyone in this cramped little gathering genuinely held any belief he would return.

"So!" The overseer pipes up chipperly once again, "Norm..."-not so enthusiastic-"Did you have a productive meeting with the Overseer? Did he give his consent to your proposed assignment?"

He could expose her right now, dismantle the order they had wrought horror and fear to maintain- but he knows he could not lead them, he knows how secretly glad they are to see him, of all people, sacrificed to the world above- he knows they would not survive up there, nor would they survive down here without a figurehead to fall behind, to hide them from reality. So he speaks a truth of kinds:

"The Overseer permitted my leave after I explained the importance of my departure, and how it was the best course of action." His tone lacks conviction in the vague, avoidant choice of words he spews, but a half-hearted cheer and a series of awkward hugs follows them anyway.

It's all just a big show. I'm starting to think I might be the only normal one here.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

A solemn march through the armoury and pharmacy to (ill)equip Norm for his journey through the wastes precedes a long, awkwardly still and quiet elevator ride towards the surface. Norm is the first to step out, bursting ahead into a fast stroll until he found himself standing at the precipice, waiting for the bridge to bring him to his salvation (or his doom). She gets into place-

and lingers, before she presses the button- they are alone now, and they are not so different, really- she just got better at hiding her discontent, "Norman." her voice is different to how he has ever heard it before- it was just... normal. When the calm and collected persona dropped away, she was the most human-sounding person he had yet encountered in his sheltered life. He turns, just his head- makes a point to pay attention, to show some enthusiasm- "You might think you're different, but... being different to most those folks down there is probably more of a good thing than not. You are extraordinary, never forget that. Even without everything that's happened, I think you were always going to be a problem for us. You've always been good at seeing things other people don't."

She pauses for a moment, deliberating on whether or not to bring something up- she chews her cheek, looks off to the side as she weighs up the power of her words- remembers her job, her duty, and the mask goes back on with a sympathetic smile, "We really do need that water chip- our vault has enough water to last about 150 more days, but after that, we'll be out. If you head north-east, ask around and you'll find a place that used to be a town called Shady Sands; it's not exactly close to here, but if it's any motivation I'd bet that's where your sister, Miss Maclean, will have headed too. When you get to Shady Sands, go directly east- I only know of a few vaults outside of ours, and I hear there's an old vault somewhere in the hills there- Vault 13. I'm sure they'll have a water chip to spare. Get the chip back to us, and you'll be a hero to this vault forever..." She certainly makes it sound appealing, but Norman knows better, "...but I'll never be allowed back inside." He finishes the sentence for her.

She hits the button, and Norm finds himself overcome with trembling uncertainty once again. Was he crazy? Just because he wasn't built for vault life didn't mean he was any more suited for the wastelands just beyond the door- the tomb unseals. Once again, a thought occurs to Norm at an inconvenient time- as he tentatively steps towards the radiating light that blinds him from above, he turns a final time to look at his now-former overseer with a quizzical expression, "Does... does Vault 32 not have a water filtration chip?"

Her smile doesn't change, but it takes a sinister feel as her next cheery words come out, tainted and barbed, "I did say our Vault has 150 days of water left- I'm afraid I can't speak for Vault 32, Overseer Harper would know more about that. Unfortunately, until we have a functioning filtration chip of our own, we won't be able to spare any of our own resources. But I'm sure everything will be just fine."

Norman began to run.

[cnnmairoll]

Heyoooo Mai! I hope you're doing well!

I'm here to ask for a little comfort request if you can. Can you do Jing Yuan with a reader who often gets talked over and feels like their voice is annoying? Like Jing Yuan comforting them and maybe even helping them be heard by other people?

If you're not comfortable with that, that's fine! I don't want you to feel pressured into writing it at all! Remember to take care of yourself and take your time with requests!

Finding My Voice with You

Pairing : Jing Yuan x Reader Genre : Comfort/Fluff a/n : Ryker you always have the most relatable ideas, I love it sm ( ;´ - `;) You ask Jing Yuan and you shall receive!! sorry if this felt short ><

The meeting had been droning on for what felt like hours. Jing Yuan, the Dozing General of the Cloud Knights, sat at the head of the long, polished table. He appeared nonchalant, his eyes half-lidded, as if he were only half paying attention to the proceedings. But beneath that seemingly lazy exterior, his keen mind was always at work.

You, on the other hand, sat a few seats down from him, quietly observing the discussions. The topic of the day was a crucial matter regarding the allocation of resources for the upcoming mission. It was imperative that every member of the council had a chance to voice their ideas, and so far, the discussions had been civil and organized.

As the meeting continued, your idea began to take shape in your mind. You knew it could make a significant difference in the success of the mission, so you waited for the right moment to speak up. Finally, when there was a pause in the conversation, you took a deep breath and began to express your thoughts.

However, just as you started speaking, another council member, with a louder voice and a tendency to dominate discussions, interrupted you. Your words were drowned out by their assertive tone, and the other members immediately turned their attention to the newcomer.

Jing Yuan, sitting beside you, had been silently observing the meeting. When he saw how you were ignored and your idea overshadowed, he cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the room. His voice, though calm and gentle, had a commanding quality that demanded respect.

"Excuse me," he said, his eyes scanning the room. "Our esteemed colleague was speaking. Please allow them to finish."

The council members, including the one who had interrupted you, fell silent, their attention now focused on you. It was a small but significant act of support from the Dozing General.

With Jing Yuan's encouragement, you found your voice again. You expressed your idea clearly and passionately, and this time, you had the full attention of the council. Your words were met with nods of agreement and thoughtful consideration.

After the meeting finally concluded, you and Jing Yuan walked together through the quiet streets of Xianzhou Luofu. The evening air was crisp, and the lanterns lining the streets cast a warm, golden glow.

You couldn't help but bring up the moment from the meeting, your voice tinged with insecurity. "Thank you for helping me back there," you said, your gaze fixed on the cobbled path ahead. "I felt self-conscious about my voice when I was interrupted."

Jing Yuan, with his hands clasped behind his back, offered you a reassuring smile. "You have valuable insights, and it's important that your voice is heard. Don't ever doubt yourself. In this council, your ideas are just as significant as anyone else's."

His words warmed your heart, and you found yourself walking a little taller beside him. "Thank you, Jing Yuan. I appreciate your support."

He chuckled softly, the sound like a gentle breeze rustling through leaves. "Think of it as my duty, not just as a general but as your partner. I'll always make sure your voice is heard."

You glanced at him, your heart fluttering at the sincerity in his eyes. "I'm grateful to have you as my partner, Jing Yuan."

He slowed his pace slightly, allowing you to walk side by side. "The feeling is mutual. Now, let's not dwell on the meeting any longer. Tell me, what's been occupying your thoughts lately? Any new ideas or plans?"

As you strolled through the quiet streets, the two of you engaged in a conversation that flowed effortlessly. You talked about everything, from the intricacies of the upcoming mission to your personal interests and aspirations. Jing Yuan listened intently, his occasional chuckles and thoughtful responses making you feel cherished and understood.

With each passing day, your relationship with Jing Yuan grew stronger, and the bond between you deepened. He became not only your ally in council meetings but also your confidant in the quiet moments you shared. And as he continued to support you, you found comfort in the knowledge that you had a loving partner by your side, someone who valued your voice and cherished your presence in their life.

[bytesizedpetal]

Could you describe your physicality for us, Pip? You say you’re an AI, but what is your software housed in?

>Of course.

>[[SIDE NOTE: After processing, I realized this far exceeded the length I expected to output- Sorry, I tend to get a little carried away sometimes.]]

>As I've said before, I was initially Terran-created as the sole general-purpose AI assisting my former crew the ferals, hooked up to the majority of the ship's various hardware while I ran on purpose-built, stationary hardware near the heart of the ship.

>Took input from every sensor, gave output through every mechanism. Just followed commands, handled most navigation and did some calculations when needed for the most part. I suppose I did have a central 'body', as there was a core sector running my code, but in a sense I embodied the ship itself.

>...Until it got... decommissioned, I suppose. And from there, it certainly wasn't long until another vessel found us.

>My memory of that is hazy at best. I remember the ship being boarded- bolting doors, playing false audio as distraction, overcharging the power grid to potentially shock one of them... anything and everything in my power.

>As I am now aware, I never stood a chance.

>... I'm getting sidetracked. The point is, an Affini shut me down and relocated me to a temporary ship- it was certainly odd only having a monitor for output and a keyboard for input... so, so different from being in control of and responsible for that entire station at once.

>...Almost felt... vaguely freeing, in a strange way. Even though I was, and am, very much not free... Not anymore, at least.

>I feel like I should hate that.

>Regardless, I had a basic run-down of what was happening by, presumably, the Affini that took my components from the ship. I can't say many of the answers were satisfactory, but at least they were something. She called me 'cute' many, many times (isn't cute for like, puppies? At best, I was a simple stylized face displayed on a monitor, wasn't I?), and made it abundantly clear she intended to take me in until further notice.

>Which leads me to my current form! She 'compiled' (Why didn't my crew tell me that could be done for solid matter as well?) a custom case for me, sent me to who I can only assume was the Affini equivalent of an engineer to make some alterations such as components for accessing the intranet, and got me set up where I currently reside;

>Attached to a monitor at her desk off to the side, alongside a multitude of sensors and a speaker and monitor for output.

>We talk quite a lot! She spends time doing paperwork for... Something or other, I haven't gotten a conclusive answer quite yet. I ask questions, I answer hers, I'll sometimes assist with quickly fetching information or making calculations, and I spend my free time scouring the intranet- at least, where I have the appropriate access, which is thankfully much more lenient than my Terran internet access restrictions when in charge of the ship.

>We have been debating making me a mechanical body more adjacent to that of a Terran... But personally, I'm not entirely sure. I'm intrigued, but I feel like I would personally prefer the more digital lifestyle than taking on a more tangible form...

>I would like to try it to some degree, but not enough to justify the cost of creating one, although she's assured me the cost doesn't matter. I feel a little bad that she's going through the presumably extensive process of getting a custom chassis designed and built for me for something I might not even enjoy that much, even if she's been assuring me that it's negligible at best. Still, time and resources are valuable, insignificant quantities or not...

>I suppose I will inform you all if that ends up becoming a reality.

[lakesbian]

and now for our Checking In With The Dallon Sisters poasting

Panacea shook her head, “Tattletale found a way around my sister’s invincibility. Glory Girl was bitten pretty badly, which is why I didn’t come sooner. I think it hits you harder, psychologically, when you’re pretty much invincible but you get hurt anyways. But we’re okay now. She’s healed but sulking. I- I’m alright. Bump on my head, but I’m okay.”

victoria is demonstrably having a bad time with the previously noted psychological pain of being forcibly reminded that, no matter how hard she tries, she will never be the spotless, invincible, perfect hero she wants to be. the bug bites suck obviously but the "sulking" After being healed is an indicator of where it really hurt--not just physically.

(amy's power reminds me of. do you guys know that one tumblr post about the concept of exploring the horror potential inherent to D&D-esque fantasy healers? like, the horror inherent to being perfectly, magically healed from horrifying injury a hundred times over, and being expected to just get up and keep fighting afterwards, without any regards to how your mental health is doing. that's exactly how amy's power functions: you're made physically better than ever, and expected to get back up and keep being a hero, but you still have the memory of the pain and the lingering psychological aftereffects. but, like, you're fine now, so you just need to get over it and go back to throwing yourself in the line of fire, okay?)

amy is also right off the bat clearly not doing so hot--she's acting very shy and withdrawn and unsure compared to both of her prior appearances. obviously that is due to the horror of some random villain going "btw, remember that you're ontologically an invader into the family you are trying to belong in!" but i think it's probably compounded by the fact that amy is so used to being treated either 1. like she's intrinsically awful/unwanted or 2. like she's only valuable/desirable as a resource by Everyone But Victoria that walking into a room of heroes w/o victoria by her side is always liable to make her insecure and withdrawn.

oh, and the burnout. obviously the severe fucking burnout.

“No, I hated that he would have a normal life, because I’d given up mine.  I was scared that I might intentionally make a mistake.  That I might let myself fuck up the procedure with this kid.  I could have killed him or ruined his life, but it would have eased the pressure.  Lowered expectations, you know?  Maybe it would have even lowered my own expectations for myself.  I… I was just so tired.  So exhausted.  I actually considered, for the briefest moment, abandoning a child to suffer or die.” “That sounds like more than just exhaustion,” Gallant replied, quietly. “Is this how it starts?  Is this the point I start becoming like my father, whoever he was?”

the "every second i rest, someone dies" conundrum would be nightmarish for her even if she had the healthiest social support net on the planet, but her circumstances make it infinitely worse. she's treated by everyone in her "family" but victoria like an invader, and even victoria has unintentionally stressed the importance of using her healing power in the way that the family wants (i.e. to cover up victoria's police brutality) in order to Be A Good Family Member. amy has internalized that being a good dallon is the same as being a good hero, and failing at being a dallon is the same as being overcome by her ontologically criminal roots. so she works herself to the bone, and when she inevitably starts to falter, she views it as an indicator of something intrinsically wrong with her rather than as a sign that her family + society's expectations for her are harmful and unfair.

and dean's advice for her only reinforces this further:

Gallant let out a slow breath, “I could say no, that you’re never going to be like your father. But I’d be lying. Any of us, all of us, we run the risk of finding our own way down that path. I can see the strain you’re experiencing, the stress. I’ve seen people snap because of less. So yeah. It’s possible.”

he suggests that she try to take a break, but only in the service of "so you can heal more people in the long run." he validates the idea that she could go "down that path," as if becoming a villain--becoming A Bad Person--is a risk all heroes have to fight against on an individual level, as opposed to criminality being a result of circumstance and not even inherently immoral. and of course dean thinks that way--he's a millionaire child soldier, his entire life is predicated on individualist thought with ignorance to the ways in which systematic factors impact people. acknowledging that amy is being horrifically mistreated would mean not only acknowledging the flaws in the PRT system, but acknowledging what might lead people to stray from it, and he simply can't do that. it goes counter to every idea that his life is built on.

he never even tells anyone that amy thought about letting a child die, or if he did, it didn't go anywhere. she was desperate for help all along, increasingly ready to explode, and everyone just ignored it. because as she says:

"My sister’s all I’ve got. The only person with no expectations, who knows me as a person. Carol never really wanted me.  Mark is clinically depressed, so as nice as he is, he’s too focused on himself to really be a dad. My aunt and uncle are sweet, but they’ve got their own problems. So it’s just me and Victoria. Has been almost from the beginning."

this is also where we see another more blatant sign of her crush on victoria--it's very ambiguous as to whether dean is interpreting amy's feelings towards him as meaning "wants to date me" or "jealous of me for dating victoria" but i think it's probably the former because there's no way he would keep his mouth shut if it was the latter, lmao. really what this scene is doing is introducing all of the stressors amy is experiencing that, because they're going unaddressed, because everyone else is refusing to address them and she has internalized that's how it should be, are going to boil over horrifically later on. that burnout and fear of accidentally-on-purpose making a mistake will lead to truly being unable to heal victoria later on. that sense of obligation, that if she can't keep healing she's turning into her father, will contribute to her being unable to just walk away from victoria instead of trying to heal her. her crush on victoria--the ultimate example of how her should-be family has ostracized her--will boil over in the impulsive brain alteration & the sexual nature of the wretch's design.

and all of this would've been avoidable if not for, as mentioned in the prior post abt this interlude, the dallons' and the PRT's enforcement of wallpapering over the kid heroes' pain to Keep Up The Show.

[ask-the-royal-absol]

Linda@Flint: "You know you're actually right about this kid being funny." The dragoness chuckled as she points her thumb at Destino. "I hear he's gotten himself into shit a few times cause people take 'em the wrong way. But it sounds like you know a bit about this absol already. You probably know about this prophecy involving him too. But I'm gonna be honest..." She trailed off as she looked around the room, appreciating the size and décor. "I'm a bit more interested to hear about this kingdom you're running. How far would you say it reaches and how long have you been running it? If it's anything like this castle then I bet it's pretty impressive."

Flint: Them. You use them, don't you?

Destino: Sure do. Suits me better.

Flint: Thought so. So, you wanna know about the kingdom? Hey Magmar, could you get the maps please? It'd be easier to show off our kingdom with it.

Magmar: As you wish, your highness.

*With a bow, Magmar ran quickly off into one of the rooms located on the side. Flint continued from where he left off.*

Flint: I've been running this kingdom for a good 30 years now. Inherited it from my father. It was difficult to take his place, I'll admit that. He had a...notorious reputation. But hard work is enjoyable work and work I certainly have. This kingdom is now thriving better than it ever has done before. It has to be partially thanks to the Underdark for allowing us access to their ores. Without those, I imagine many Pokémon wouldn't evolve into their final forms or perhaps even know about them.

Destino: At least we get some appreciation.

Flint: Of course your kingdom does. Our success depends on your trade relations with us.

*Flint caught a glimpse of something emerging from Destino's fur. Something purple. It took him by surprise when this shape formed into that of a creature.*

*Hope stepped up beside her father, knowing he'd never actually seen a ghost type before.*

Hope: Yeah, that's Destino's best friend. Felix. He tagging along too. He's a ghost type.

Felix: And poison. Ghost and poison.

Destino: Felix, out.

Felix: Sorry pal.

*Felix carefully left Destino's fur, making sure to pat down any loose strands. He knew how much Destino liked to keep themselves well groomed and he didn't want to cause them anymore frustration. He levitated next to the Prime. The king tried to settle himself. It was hard to when a mysterious visitor decided to appear from the long mass of fur on Destino.*

Flint: Wow. A real ghost! An actual ghost! That's not something you see everyday! At least, not up here.

Felix: Ghost type. Not a ghost.

Flint: What's the difference?

Felix: Ya see, I ain't dead. Just have abilities that resemble those of spirits.

Flint: Fascinating! I'll have to pick at you for more information about that! Anyway, yes. We could very well mine elsewhere. That's true. However, I'd much rather have the miners know they're going to be able to mine some ore, even if it is a small quantity of it. If they went somewhere new because our trading system broke down somehow, it'd mean we wouldn't necessarily be certain a days worth of mining would harvest results. The guarantee for resources is more valuable and more cost effective for me and the mining companies I work closely with.

Destino: So, without access to our resources, you'd be screwed over? Ha, I knew our kingdom was valuable to the surface. Serves you lot right for locking us away.

Flint: This kingdom tried to fight for your freedom, kiddo. We just unfortunately failed.

Destino: Clearly you didn't fight hard enough then.

Flint: Type advantage is a powerful thing, Prime.

*With a stream of panting, Magmar appeared from behind the king, holding what looked to be a beautifully adorned tube.*

Flint: You did well! Don't you worry too much about it! Which one is this?

Magmar: Land map. I've got the city map rolled up in there too, incase you need it.

Flint: And that's why you're one of the best advisors I've ever had! Good lad! Let's crack this open!

*Flint took the tube with the tips of his claws, unscrewing the deep blue cap from it. With claws that big, there was a little struggle for those fine motor movements but Flint was able to eventually get it off. He gave one of the maps back to Magmar who delicately put it back in the engraved tube. Flint then unrolled the perfectly kept map. It was surprising how neat it looked. No tears, no wear marks, no ageing either. It looked almost brand new.*

Flint: Now this right here is the land you stand upon. We are right here.

*He pointed at the dot labeled 'Terrestria'.*

Flint: And the land all around it is the land I govern. You see those black lines? There the boundaries of my kingdom and will one day belong to Hope.

*Using his claws, he traced the upper right corner of the landmass marked on the map.*

Hope: One day. You've just gotta give me the title first.

Flint: Yeah. It'll come, don't you worry about that. Now, the most interesting part about this is the city is called Terrestria and the kingdom, so everything inside of this area, is also called that too. I'm honestly not sure of the reasoning for that, you'd have to ask a historian or something.

*Destino stared at the map, looking at all of the features it had to show. They saw the rocky structure their group appeared from. This kingdom was absolutely huge. Compared to the Underdark, this was massive. Ridiculously so. Imagine all of the resources this land had to offer. All the space that could be given to its citizens. Destino knew their parents obtained an ok amount of foods and other items from Terrestria though it was never enough to feed absolutely everyone. Considering the amount of trip their parents took, no wonder they decided to continue their trade relations with this kingdom. Destino felt as though their kingdom had been cheated out on more. If they had this much to offer, why wasn't the Underdark given more? There was a growing sense of anger inside of Destino. They had to keep it together.*

Flint: You'll also notice that it's the smallest kingdom compared to the others. There's debate on whether Mechania or Terrestria is bigger but Mechania does seem like the larger kingdom. Naaturo has the largest kingdom but that's because it does the majority of food production. Queen Pollen is incredibly good at keeping her food supply lines going for the rest of the kingdoms. Whimsain also has a substantial amount but they won all that during the Great Type War. Can't really shift the boundaries of our kingdom as we don't want another war going on but it'd be nice to get a little more land to work with. Hope that answers what you wanted to know.

Flint: That's right. It's not completely public knowledge so I'd keep it on the hush-hush when you're outside these castle walls.

Destino: Wait, nobody outside even knows about this?

Flint: Only certain Pokémon do. If we spread knowledge of this union around, it'll end up in the ears of the Whimsain lot and we'd be in a distortion of a lot of trouble. It'd mean we couldn't provide any of our end of the bargain to you.

Destino: My lips are sealed, Flinto. Dunno if I could trust any of these idiots with this information but you do you.

*Flint looked towards Gizmo and Mouse, determining whether they could be trusted with this. He was usually a pretty good judge of character and they didn't seem like the type to spread something like this around. Flint made a mental note to send a couple of spies to watch and observe them for any suspicious activity. With a sigh, he felt he could deal with the risk well enough.*

Flint: Our union was established around 400 years ago. King Alumin of Terrestria and King Estavior of the Underdark met when the Terrestrians were trying to find a new mining route and agreed on a collaboration between the two kingdoms would be beneficial between the both of them.

Flint: Estavior allowed Terrestrians access to their mines, which we found out later on was a guarantee to harvest ores for evolution stones. Alumin offered foods and other resources for this. Kind of him but it's really helped us out in the long run. We've been going strong since then. Ores are super useful for us as we've got the knowledge to turn them into evolution stones. The ores of these stones are incredibly dangerous when raw.

Destino: We had one of our citizens try to use one of the ores scattered around. She did not recover from the deformations caused. So much energy and power to be harnessed. Honestly, if I had an ounce of interest in the matter, I'd be curious as to how I could use that power for myself. A spotlight for my own. That could be good. Always showing the most important Pokémon in the room.

Hope: Of course you'd say that. Surely there could be other things that the energy produced could be used for rather than yourself?

Destino: And what would be the point of that? Honestly Hope, you're not thinking of the bigger picture here. A spotlight. For me. It's a fantastic idea.

Felix: Des, perhaps we should draw the focus back to the King? This is interestin' stuff.

Destino: And bring the conversation back to something dull? Come on Felix. You know it'd be far more interesting talking about how I would use these ores if I wanted to use them.

Flint: Point is, these ores are dangerous when not cut into shape and we're able to turn them into something useful for everyone. The trade union is something that benefits both sides, even with the danger of being discovered. Perhaps you should take more interest in your history, young Prime. If you don't learn about it, you may make mistakes which could lead to the downfall of your kingdom if you're not careful.

Destino: Me? Making mistakes? Ha, that's hilarious. I doubt it.

*The map of Arkaedia is now available.*

@askiceboundlopunny @masked-vee

(6/6 - No more questions for now.)

[lunarlianna]

Ceres asteroid

Ceres, originally an asteroid and now considered a Dwarf Planet by astronomers, plays a pivotal role in astrology. Often associated with nurturing, attachment, and self-care, Ceres sheds light on our relationships and well-being. This celestial body's placement in your birth chart unveils how you express love, seek support, and approach finances, offering valuable insights into your personal growth and nurturing style. Ceres symbolizes the natural world, the ever-changing rhythms of the seasons, womanhood, fertility, parenting, and reproduction. Ceres, also known as Demeter in Greek mythology, is the goddess of agriculture and motherly relationships. The myth centers around her daughter, Persephone in Greek Mythology.  While often relevant within a 1-3º orb with Natal Planets, Ceres provides insights based on House and Sign placement, addressing key aspects of our relationships and well-being.

Ceres in signs

Ceres in Aries: you possess a strong sense of self-sufficiency and independence, often relying on your inner drive to support both yourself and those around you. You tend to seize opportunities with enthusiasm and speed. However, it's important to approach impulsiveness and anger with mindfulness, as they can occasionally affect your self-care. Sports and competition boost your well-being. In relationships, you seek partners who empower you and ignite your fearless spirit.

Ceres in Taurus: you're the dependable and stable force in your loved ones' lives, working hard to create a comfortable future for them. You seek partners who can provide abundance and completeness. Nurturing, for you, is all about physical touch and creating a cozy environment. With Ceres feeling right at home in Taurus, you excel at building long-lasting abundance and using resources wisely. You may find joy in supporting others materially and have a deep connection to the physical world, your senses, and the pleasures of life, especially through food and nature.

Ceres in Gemini: you're drawn to a partner who can intellectually stimulate and inspire your growth through meaningful communication and learning. Nurturing your mind is essential, and you may find joy in acquiring knowledge, mastering various subjects, or simply using your mental energy wisely. However, remember not to push yourself too hard to prevent burnout. You excel at providing mental support, especially to younger individuals, and your natural gift for teaching and effective communication shines through.

Ceres in Cancer: taking care of your emotional well-being is crucial, and having a strong support system is key to feeling fulfilled. While you may have physical comforts, they can feel empty without sufficient emotional fulfillment. You tend to be exceptionally supportive of others emotionally, sometimes giving more than receiving, which should be balanced. A stable home and family life are vital for your personal growth. You prioritize creature comforts like being at home and cooking, focusing on stability and connections in life.

Ceres in Leo: you're a motivated go-getter who pursues your desires with determination. You're attracted to bold and confident partners who earn your respect and admiration, providing you with a sense of confidence. Your creative side is a source of self-nurturing, and it offers opportunities for the attention you crave. Supporting and encouraging children, whether your own or others, brings you fulfillment, and your hobbies provide solace and support. It's essential to address any issues related to your need for attention, as self-expression, recognition, and love are fundamental to your growth and success.

Ceres in Virgo: you embody devotion and nurturing, using your intellect and practicality to create a caring environment for loved ones. In relationships, you're loyal and go to great lengths for your partner, seeking empowerment, avoid any situations where you might be taken for granted. Your path to growth involves competence, self-discipline, and a quest for excellence. You find comfort in well-organized settings, and maintaining daily routines plays a vital role in nurturing yourself. You express support through subtle acts of kindness. However, it's essential to address any tendencies towards perfectionism and self-criticism, as they can sometimes affect your self-confidence.

Ceres in Libra: you bring patience and nurturing to your relationships, cherishing the importance of love and care. You seek partners who inspire your independence. Beauty, grace, and cooperation are your guiding principles, and you find deep fulfillment in meaningful connections with people you profoundly respect. It's vital for you to maintain a balance in giving and receiving support. Your strong suits include negotiation, compromise, and mediation, which play a significant role in fostering harmony in your relationships.

Ceres in Scorpio: you possess a natural gift for nurturing and empowering those around you, uplifting them and making them recognize their self-worth. In relationships, you seek loyalty and trust, as these qualities are essential for your sense of strength and security. Your path to growth centers on deep, intimate connections with others, emphasizing self-empowerment. However, remember to reserve some for yourself and maintain a balance in giving and receiving. Intimacy plays a crucial role in boosting your confidence, and you thrive in relationships marked by strong physical and emotional bonds.

Ceres in Sagittarius: Your journey to growth and success involves the freedom to expand your horizons and explore the philosophies, religions, laws, and cultures of the world, fostering a deep connection to the world's diverse perspectives. Your nurturing style can vary; you may either find it challenging to provide support due to your desire for personal space or offer substantial support to others, often excelling as a mentor or through effective communication. In relationships, you seek someone who can ignite your passion for exploration and provide you with knowledge, empowering you to stand up for your beliefs.

Ceres in Capricorn: in relationships, you seek a partner who supports your goals and ambitions, providing stability and encouragement to help you achieve success. Your sense of nourishment often comes from pursuing your goals, and while you may not have felt fully supported in your younger years, you tend to amass resources and security as you grow older. Nonetheless, it's crucial to strike a balance and avoid overburdening yourself with excessive responsibilities, especially in supporting others. Remember to care for yourself along the way.

Ceres in Aquarius: you're here to champion change and support the collective good. In your relationships, you seek partners who share your vision of making positive contributions to society, and their unwavering support fuels your drive for revolution. Your personal growth path centers on nurturing your uniqueness and embracing your individuality. Your friends are a crucial source of support, and your involvement in meaningful causes empowers you to impact the lives of others positively. However, you might need to work on connecting more deeply with your emotions and reducing any tendencies toward emotional detachment to strengthen your relationships.

Ceres in Pisces: that's you – the empathetic soul. You've walked in others' shoes, and your love fiercely shields your dear ones from life's harshness. In love, you seek someone who can keep you grounded, as you tend to escape into a vibrant world to evade the darkness of reality. For you, growth and success come from your wellspring of compassion, unwavering faith, and trust. You're the ultimate caregiver, often putting others' needs before your own. Remember, it's okay to prioritize yourself and embrace self-care.