#rotary clock

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[prestonmonterey]

finally finished another fuckin object head bjd

he is a human man unlike his sister beep

catgirl beep for reference (ignore that im holding her,,, i cant put her down cuz her tail gets in the way) (next to each other beep is a lil shorter cuz she has a smaller torso and shorter legs)

ANYWAY

please help me give my son a name

face pic cuz he looks kinda like a goofy lil dog from the front lol

so uhh ye plz help with name and also reblogs are appreciateddd tyy :3

[time-was-over]

objectum gang !!!!!!

objectum gang….

[rickssecondhandfinds]

11/Mar/24

I REALLY wanted to bring the Simpsons radio home with me lol

[deathby1000sluts]

some of my favorite finds from the first antique store. the only i came home with was a metal wizard of oz sign.

[pad-wubbo]

"Ye Olde Clocke Towere"

Infinite Painter.

Simple painting over a Rotary park clock in Penarth to look all rustic and 19th-century-ish.

CC-BY-SA 4.0.

[wendichester]

Saw this one tumblr post about a soulmate AU where people age until they reach 18 and then stop aging until they meet their soulmate so they can grow old together🥺

I wanted to ask how your take on this idea would be with your favorite spn character

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ til i saw you,

summary. you stop aging at 18, until you reunite with your happily ever after.

pairing. dean winchester x reader genre. fluff ; soulmate au

wordcount. 1080

notes / warnings. very brief mention of sex / this idea is honestly too cute!

You stop aging at eighteen.

Everyone does.

It’s the first thing they teach you in school, right after the alphabet. Right after how to count to ten.

"You will age until your eighteenth birthday," the teacher says, "and then you’ll stay that way until your soulmate touches you. That’s when time will start again. For both of you."

You remember wondering what that touch would feel like. Would it burn? Would it glow? Would the world shift on its axis?

But that was... a long time ago. And you're still here. Still eighteen. Still waiting. Twenty-seven birthdays later.

You wake up on the same mattress in the same little apartment you’ve been calling home for a decade now. Skin smooth, eyes clear, a body that never aches. On paper, you're one of the lucky ones. Immortality is soft on your bones. But it’s hard on your heart.

There’s only so long you can pretend you’re just a late bloomer. People stop asking after a while. They start to look. Whisper. Wonder. You lie. A lot. About your age, about where you’re from, about why you never seem to change.

And maybe the worst part—maybe the cruelest—is how easy it is to fall in love with the wrong people along the way. You’ve done it. Twice. Maybe three times, if you're being honest. But no matter how close they get, no matter how much you want it to happen, nothing changes.

No touch restarts your clock.

Until him.

It’s late when he walks into the gas station. Midnight and humming, the fluorescent lights above your head buzz like insects. You’re chewing gum and half-asleep behind the register when he strolls in, tall and broad and all leather jacket and swagger. He has a look in his eyes that says he’s seen too much and still hasn’t stopped looking.

You barely glance up when he drops a handful of items on the counter: beef jerky, a bottle of whisky, pie.

“Quiet night?” he says, voice deep and rasped, like he’s been singing with gravel in his throat.

You nod. Then look up.

And something... shifts.

It's not a sound, not a spark, not the glowing halo you used to imagine when you were little. It's a feeling. A pull. Your chest tightens like someone’s wrapping a thread around your ribs and tugging—just once. Gently. But enough to make your breath hitch.

He notices. Freezes.

The pie falls from his hand, lands with a soft thud against the counter. You both stare at each other like someone just flipped the universe upside down.

“You feel that?” he asks. And it’s not a line. It’s not casual. His voice is rougher now. Almost afraid.

You nod. Whisper, “Yeah.”

He lifts a hand slowly. Gives you time to step back, to say no, to deny it. But you don’t.

When his fingers touch yours, it’s instantaneous.

Like heat waking in your veins. Like time exhaling. Your heart stutters and then races, faster than it’s beat in years. You feel your skin come alive—blood rushing, lungs expanding, every cell remembering how to move.

And from the way he sways, the way his eyes widen and mouth parts, you know he’s feeling it too.

“Jesus,” he mutters. “I thought—I thought I’d die before this ever happened.”

Your lips curve. “You’re old, then?”

He barks out a laugh. “Let’s just say I’ve been eighteen long enough to miss rotary phones.”

You grin. “I’ve never used one.”

He leans closer. “Wanna come with me?”

You blink. “Where?”

“Anywhere.” A pause. “Everywhere.”

That’s how it begins.

A duffel bag. A backseat. The open road. Dean Winchester drives like it’s a religion and swears like it’s punctuation. He flirts without meaning to, laughs like he’s been starved for it, and kisses you like the world might end at any second.

The first time he makes you come, it’s in a motel room somewhere outside of Denver.

You’re both breathless from running—something about vampires, or maybe ghosts; you didn’t ask, too drunk on adrenaline and the way he’d looked at you in the dark. Like you were already his.

He kisses you soft at first, like he’s afraid he might break you. But his hands are anything but shy. They trail up your thighs, parting them like he already knows what’s underneath. When he finally pushes inside you, it feels like you’ve waited centuries for this exact kind of stretch, that kind of fullness, the kind of groan he makes when you clench around him.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps into your neck, voice hot and hungry. “You feel like heaven.”

You arch under him. “Then don’t stop.”

He doesn’t.

Being with Dean is nothing like you imagined.

He’s not soft. Not exactly. But he’s gentle in the ways that matter. He makes coffee in the mornings, leaves the radio on your favorite station, kisses the inside of your wrist like a promise. He reads you bedtime stories in Latin just to make you laugh. He teaches you how to shoot a gun and then buys you a strawberry milkshake after because he says it’s “important to balance the badass with the cute.”

And maybe it’s not perfect. You still fight. He still shuts down sometimes, still carries the weight of the world in the slope of his shoulders. But now, when he breaks, you’re there to hold him. And when you tremble, he’s already pulling you into his chest, pressing kisses into your hair, reminding you that he’s not going anywhere.

Not now. Not ever.

Months pass. Then years. You both start to age.

Little things at first. A crinkle at the edge of his eyes when he smiles. The slight ache in your hips when you ride him too long.

But it’s beautiful, this slow unraveling. This proof that it’s real. That you found each other. That time is moving again—together.

He touches the first silver strand in your hair like it’s a miracle.

“I’ve waited a long time for this,” he says, voice thick with feeling.

You cup his cheek. “What? The wrinkles?”

He grins. “No. You.”

And maybe you’ll never know why it took so long. Why fate made you wait. But when he holds you at night, when his breath is warm on your shoulder and his arms are wrapped tight around your waist, you finally stop wondering.

Because your clock is ticking.

And so is his.

And you’ll grow old.

Together.

Just like you were meant to.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[todays-xkcd]

It was great until my thumb slipped and I accidentally launched my telescope into the air at Mach 8.

Rotary Tool [Explained]

Transcript Under the Cut

Multi-function rotary tool [A slider on the side of a tool with various settings.] Speed (rpm) Function 0.000000000073: Sidereal mount precession adapter 0.00070: Sidereal telescope mount [Following three are labeled "clock hands":] 0.0014: h 0.017: m 1: s [Following three are labeled "record player":] 33: 33 45: 45 72: 72 300: Screwdriver [Current setting] 1500: Drill 2500: Airplane propeller 35 000: Dremel 60 000: Uranium enrichment centrifuge 300 000: Dental drill

[fieldghoul]

A round-up of ministry technology:

Chapter Two: The Cardinal

Copia is carrying the Siemens R836 stereo, produced c. 1988

Chapter 5: The Call

The TV in the hospital is the Toshiba T277Z, produced c. 1977

p.s., the first clip playing on the TV is twins running away in Chapter 1 :-)

Chapter Seven: New World Redro

Nihil's typewriter is the Olympia SM9, produced c. 1965-1968

Chapter Ten: Home Coming and Special Guests

The record player in Cardi's room is actually not vintage! It's the Victrola 3-in-1 Bluetooth Record Player, produced c. 2017

To get deep into minutiae, the other thing they pan past on the shelf that looks like an antique cathedral radio is actually a piece of ceramic -- you can see it's holding a book. It's made from a commercially available plaster mold, namely the Duncan DM-355 B, which was manufactured in the late 70s. Here are photos of the same ceramic with a different glaze, and the mold itself :-)

Chapter Twelve: Ghost Goes Hollywood

Cardi's camcorder is part of the Sony CCD-TRVX5 series, produced c. 1998

(My understanding is the CCD-TRV75, 85 and 93 all have the same body -- but it's one of those.)

Chapter 16: Tax Season

Cardi's TV is the Samsung BT-317TR, produced c. 1984

He is, of course, playing the Nintendo Entertainment System (NES), produced c. 1986-1990

The radio is the Motorola TT23FS, produced c. 1968

The phone gadget is the Tele-Rest, produced c. 1958

The alarm clock is a Lawson Model 215 Sierra, produced c. 1948-1981 (Lawson clock history seems... complicated)

As for the phone itself... I can tell you it's this exact phone, since this prop house seems to have supplied all the props in this video, but there are too many identical puke-green rotary phones produced between the 1940s and 1970s for me to pretend I can tell which one it is (same goes for the other two rotary phones in Chapter Five).

Rite Here Rite Now

The TV backstage is (probably) a Magnavox 20MT4405/17, produced c. 2006

If you turn the brightness on RHRN way the fuck up, you can see a piece of tape over the brand badge on the TV. (But that can't stop me!!!)

I'm sure most of the tech choices are just for humor and Tobias's personal nostalgia as a child of the 80s, but I do love way all of the old tech characterizes the ministry. It's not clear if they're just luddites, cheapskates, out of money, too bureaucratically inefficient to upgrade (like the government!) or if it's something completely different. But that's why set dressing is fun, it tells stories indirectly :-)

[just-a-sketchbook]

First Quilt!

It has been a lot of fun and a lot of trial and error but it's done!!!

It's roughly 1.20 x 1.20m (which is a number of feet I can't be bothered to look up but let's say it's about child sized and it'll be great to chill on the couch).

I want to thank @langdon813 who I've never talked to (sorry if you hate being tagged) but whose gorgeous Drunkard path quilts made me wanna do it too :)

I had never done any quilting before (but I did sew), so here's what I've learned, if any beginner is interested in jumping off the deep end the way I did and wants advice from someone who has freshly acquired experience but will also not use any confusing technical terms (with pictures!) :

Fabric picking : so most advice I read was to go for pre-selected bundles of fabric that already go together, but I'm contrary and like to do my own thing so I used wax fabric (the blue ones on top the pile) I had laying around, which I strongly recommend: it's very easy to cut due to it being waxed, and I added a few fat squares from the shop, plus I also had the orange and blue floral and I based the coulour scheme on it. One thing that's true is it would have been easier to work with fabric of the same thickness, and the floral was givne to me by my ma who got in on trip to Thailand and it was alot thinner than the rest which didn't help.

Cutting: I got a rotary cutter for the occasion and it's great! Do not maybe push too hard on it and give yourself nerve damage the way I did (temporary but still), it's actually ery sharp and easy to use, so long as your template doesn't slip you're fine

Piecing :Yes you can do curved piecing even if you have zero experience, you just gotta make a template and

pin it a lot.

1/4 inch margins is the standard so I rolled with it because I don't like converting, but when you're strictly metric it is kind of annoying but doable because my machine does have a 1/4 inch mark and if you stick a length of tape along it it's pretty easy to follow, even for curved piecing.

Layout: At some point you've got to decide the layout is done, because I've re-arranged the blocks at least 6 times and it's a very good way to go insane. (For rough reference, my plan was to have no repeat fabrics in any of the circle-in-a-square blocks, and I only made one mistake which I clocked too late to change)

Chain piecing!! Meaning you pile your blocks together in a specific order (that I personnaly wrote straight up on each piece with a very sophisticated letter/numbers down/across system) and then just sew them together in a line without having to cut the thread between each pair. Looks a little like a fanion banner and at some point it feels like you'll be forever tangled into it but then it's magic :) It's not that hard actually and will save you a lot of time + there's a lot of online tutorials you can use.

Basting! (which it took me while to understand is the part where you attach the backing, the fluff and the quilt top together) : you need more safety pins. Safety pins will save you from the wrinkles and the unfortunate oopsies of realising you've caught your backing double folded into your quilting stitch, which I did a good three times and was not fun to undo. Also, I forgot to tape the backing to the floor and it probably would have helped with the wrinkling...

Backing : I used an old linen table cloth I got for 10€ at a charity shop, and I've still got about 2/3 of it left, so I recommend that, it's sturdy but soft enough, doesn't thread easily and can be washed at very high temps, if that's a thing you do.

Quilting! Well, my machine came with a quilting foot for free motion quilting (which means you're the one moving the fabric along in whichever direction and you can sort of draw with your stitches) and it seemed fun so I did that, and here's what I learned : curves are hard but doable, also my machine doesn't like to go back (kept skipping sitiches for some reason) so it involves a lot of shifting the quilt around, which isn't easy considering the bulk. And also, drawing the quilting pattern you want so you can follow it while quilting actually does help, I used an iron/heat-erasable pen and it worked just fine. Check your stitch tension, mine was too loose and I realised too late so there's spots where I could pull on the thread and it looped, had to stitch back over that.

Quilitng pattern : I wasn't sure what to do, supposedly your batting (aka: the fluff) comes with instructions on how tight you should quilt to avoid it coming apart through use but I got mine cut at the fabric shop and forgot to ask so I just rolled with a rough 10cm maximum distance in between stitching lines but tried to do less in most places. According to many blogs : the tighter your lines the stiffer your quilt, so I kept it loose for comfort. (Picture is halfway done, I added a smaller square/circle inside each square/circle and if you look at it you'll see it's actually diagonal lines form one end of the fabric to the other.)

Binding is boring, and there's nothing to it. I got a length of pre-cut bias binding, machine-sewed it front to front to the quilt top side of the quilt and the folded it back and secured it by hand to the back with a ladder stitch. Took me roughly and entire rewatch of the Last Of Us. There's a trick to doing the corners that's fairly simple but I've lost the tutorial...

Overall : I got myself a quilting book with techinques and such and it helped, but there's a ton of stuff online, and once you get over the very Christian American mum vibe of most of the blogs, it's all very helpful (and gorgeous!) (no offense meant to Christian American mums, it's just a bit of a culture shock from where I'm standing).

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[sovietpostcards]

Russian State Library

The biggest library in Russia and one of the biggest in the world. It was designed in late 1920s, soon after the birth of the new Soviet state, and fully finished in the 1950s. In includes 4 buildings and one 19-floor book repository. There are several reading halls, a cafe, and a whole bunch of book-filled nooks and crannies.

I'm writing this post sitting in the library's biggest reading hall - Reading Hall No. 3. It was opened in 1957 and still retains most of the original furniture and design (only there are now individual power sockets in every desk). Most of the tables are occupied by people with books and laptops. It's very quiet.

The book depository is a huge building that rises high above everything else in this historical area. It had 10 floors originally, each 5m high, but later it was divided into 19 smaller floors. We visited one of the floors. I was impressed to see that the windows are made out of Falconnier glass blocks (made specially for the library in Gus Khrustalny).

There are two automated delivery systems in the library: one delivers readers' orders into the depository (pneumatic tubes) and the other delivers books back to the reader (monorail). We had a chance to see both of them in action, very impressive! They also kept a bit of the old book delivery system that worked from 1953 until 2015. I saw it on pictures before, and it was great to see the granny in real life. :) There are a lot of "grannies" in the library, from the green lamps to rotary phones to wall clocks. The pneumatic tube system has been in place since 1975. People whose job is to preserve books are very likely to preserve everything else.

I loved this anecdote. In one of the reading halls, there's a big painting of Lenin (pictured below). Apparently it was put in place in mid-1950s to cover the bas-relief that was there originally. On the bas-relief there are Karl Marx, Friedrich Engels, Vladimir Lenin and Joseph Stalin. After Stalin's death in 1953 and debunking the cult of personality, images of him were quickly removed from everywhere. The library, being true preservers of history, kept theirs but covered it up. It just shows what kind of people librarians are. :)

Although the library is working on running a full digital catalogue of all their 48 million items, if you want access to older editions you'll probably need to use the old paper card catalogue. The room gave me major nostalgy - I remember using this kind of catalogue in my local library when I was a kid. The sound of pulling out a narrow box, then the little built-in table, going through the cards one by one, writing down what you need on library cards. It was a whole process! Of course, the local library's catalogue was WAY smaller.

A few more shots of interiors. Although the building itself was designed in 1920s (during the era of avantgarde and art deco), the interiors were mostly done in 1950s when the main design style was neo classicism.

I enjoyed this tour immensely, so much so that I had to go back and get a library card so I can see more of it, sit in every reading hall and drink a cup of tea in the marble hall cafeteria. Also, the idea of 48 million books at the tip of my fingers makes me giddy. Thank you to my followers for the monetary support and making this real for me: K. T., H. W., T. B., m., @depetium, @transarkadydzyubin, S. R.

[powderpinkandsweeet]

Ellie x Reader

~6k words, 60s au, blue collar Ellie x fem waitress reader. Some fluff, some hurt comfort, eventual smut. Content warnings for stereotypical early 60s sexism, some naivety (not innocent, per say), and internalized homophobia.

The first time you saw her, it was from behind the counter of a roadside diner. They'd just built a highway through the plain so the diner had been busier than usual and Patti was letting you get in a couple extra hours. It was toward the end of service, right around the time that the lumber mill closed up for the night and the workers make their way home. Fall was creeping in so the day had been cold and rainy. The last customer of the night came through the door soaked to the bone. Her work boots squeaked and squished on the linoleum and drops of water fell from the tips of her hair. Her blue coveralls stuck to her frame, and you could tell it was uncomfortable by the way she shifted and pulled at the fabric.

Patti found her first, storming over to scold the customer about dirtying her freshly-mopped floors. Patti called for you to bring towels and you rushed to help. The supply closet only had dish towels, so you piled them high on the counter where Patti had settled the visitor. You returned to your customers but remained close by to eavesdrop on the two. As far as you could tell, she had been on her way home and got a flat tire on her truck. With the rain she couldn't get the tire changed or walk home, so she asked to use the phone to call a ride.

From the rotary phone in the break room, you could hear grumbling and expletives before she hung up the phone and returned to the counter with a frown and arms crossed. Despite her tough exterior, the poor girl was shivering so you set to making her a mug of hot chocolate. You stood parallel to her at the counter, getting a good look at her for the first time. Above her right breast pocket, under the lumber mill logo, was an embroidered name: 'Eleanor.'

"Eleanor?" you asked.

Her brow twitched at the name and she looked up with a frown, “what’d you just say?”

“It says ‘Eleanor’ on your uniform…”

She looked down at the embroidery and laughed bitterly, "only folks that call me that are my old man and my boss. It's Ellie to you."

You looked back at the mug in your hands, "well, you looked cold, so I thought maybe you would like some hot chocolate."

She looked surprised at the act of kindness, but accepted the cup gratefully, cupping it with both hands that had become almost numb from the cold. "Yeah... thanks, sugar."

You smiled shyly and muttered "of course," before scurrying back to the kitchen to wipe the same counter once again.

Only minutes later, you walked out of the to find an empty mug and a handful of change. 'The cocoa was only a quarter,' you think, dropping the spare change into the pocket of your apron with a jingle. They clinked in your pocket like silver bells the rest of your shift.

Ellie would drop by regularly, stopping to sit alone at the counter and sip a beer at the end of the work day. You would make idle small talk when business was slow, learning more about her every day. She was unlike any other girl you had known, indelicate and assertive, but most of all she had a certain magnetism about her that pulled you in. Every shift, when the clock struck six, you would linger by the counter, hoping the bell would chime and you'd see Ellie walking through the door.

This time, Ellie enters with a group of men you assume must be her coworkers. They all wore the same blue canvas overalls, with the same embroidered logo and marked with their names. They smelled like sawdust and sweat, a combination that you usually didn't mind on Ellie, but the group was overpowering your senses. You try to catch Ellie's eye and smile, but she seemed too focused on her work boots to notice.

You briefly panicked as you realized they weren't being seated in your section, and you had half a mind to take the hostess by the shoulders and shake her. Instead, you muster the courage to ask your fellow waitress to trade. Margaret looked confused at first, but an amused grin stretched across her face and she chuckled.

"What? Is there something on my uniform?" you ask and peer down at your dress and pinafore, but she only snorts behind her hand that is unsuccessfully muffling her laughter.

"No, I see what's going on, you don't have to be shy. You just had to tell me that you're looking to bag a lumberjack and I'd have switched in a second."

"What?! No, you've got the wrong idea," you whisper-yell to her. "One of them is just a friend so I wanted to say hi."

"Oh you don't have to lie to me. We both know exactly what you're doing." You did, but her... not quite.

Margaret glanced at the table once more before she leaned in to whisper in your ear "The one in the corner looks real cute, if you ask me." And she heads off to take the order of a table in what had previously been your section.

You sigh, "I didn't ask, actually." You looked at the man she'd pointed out to see him stacking creamer cups into a pyramid. 'I guess he's... creative? But cute I don't think so.' Your eyes wandered back to Ellie. Her pink lips were in a pout and her green eyes downcast as she traced the rim of her beer glass with a finger. She didn't seem to be entirely present, like something was on her mind.

You took a few deep breaths before marching up to the table with your best customer service smile. You introduced yourself and passed out menus, to which Ellie's head snapped up to see you. You offered her a polite smile, but she looked away, pretending to scan the menu.

The other three at the table ordered drinks as Ellie spaced out, looking at nothing in particular on the menu in front of her. "And for you?" broke her from her trance.

"Sorry, what?"

The man in the booth next to Ellie elbowed her in the side and teased, "your drink, buddy."

She realized and punched him in the arm before picking up the menu again. "Uh, I'll just take a beer... please." she ordered without looking you in the eye.

"Alright then, four beers it is. I'll be right back with you." You held onto your smile as you turned around but let it drop when you thought they could no longer see you. 'What the hell was that? She acted like we'd never met before,' you ruminated as you filled the glasses.

You didn't notice Ellie's repeated glances in your direction as you helped other customers, but the man beside him with "Jesse" embroidered on his coveralls certainly did. He leaned over to murmur in Ellie's ear, "the waitress is cute, huh?"

Ellie looked shocked, blushing and making nervous eye contact with Jesse, but she was overshadowed by the mouthiest of the bunch. "Real cute, alright. I oughta make a move on her," the bearded one, John, interjected. He obviously didn’t realize the question wasn’t directed at him.

Beside him, the one stacking creamer cups hummed in agreement. "Betcha can't get her number by the time we get the check."

"Oh just watch me, fucker."

Ellie couldn't wipe the look of disgust off her face, obvious enough to catch attention. "You got something to say, huh dyke?" John taunted.

Ellie sighed, "just that you're dumb as a bag of rocks if you think you can get her number looking and smelling like you do."

His beard was littered with crumbs and he smelled like an armpit. A chick magnet, truly, but his confidence was admirable at the very least. "Well, you can fuck all the way off, how's that?"

Ellie shrugged and raised her palms in mock-surrender, "just givin it to you straight, man. She's outta your league and on the clock. You wouldn't want someone hitting on you while you're at work, do you?"

John barked out a laugh, "boy would I! But I don't think any gal 'cept you that ain’t afraid to go near a bandsaw."

Ellie didn't laugh in return, instead muttering to herself "they wouldn't be afraid if you knew how to put down the guard and use the damn thing."

Jesse nearly spit out his water, to which John forgot what had been said and only laughed at Jesse's misfortune.

When you returned with the group's beers, Ellie looked away as nonchalantly as she could manage. You pulled out your notepad and scribbled down their orders, tucking it into your apron and turning around to give it to the cook, but you heard a "clink" behind you. You look back to see that the bearded man had knocked his fork and knife onto the floor. He met your eyes and let out an insincere "oops."

'Customer service smile' you reminded yourself. You bent down to pick it up, "here sir, I can grab you a clean set. It'll take me just a mo-MENT!" You fell back onto your butt on the linoleum as one of the glasses of beer was tipped over, splashing onto the table, the ground, and you where you had bent to retrieve the silverware.

For the first time that night, you heard Ellie's voice. "Johnathan! What the fuck, man!"

You scrambled to your feet and were confronted by frantic apologies from the bearded man. He had stood up from the booth with a fist full of napkins. From where you stood could see that the glass had tipped from right in front of him. "I'm so so sorry, I swear I'm so clumsy."

Your eyes were lining with tears at the embarrassment and the suspicion that he had done this on purpose. You looked down at your soiled uniform. Your apron had a huge stain spread across it, and you could feel the cold, sticky feeling as it bled through the apron and into your dress. You struggled to form words and stay polite, "I- it's okay, it's fine, I just need to-"

"Here, please, let me help," and napkins were pressed firmly to your breasts. Ellie yelled the man's name again and nearly climbed over the table but was held back by Jesse's grip on her wrist. She looked at you with sad eyes, only gifting you with her attention when you were distressed.

You jumped backward, "no! I don't need any of your help! I- I'm just-please excuse me," and you bolted through the kitchen, into the break room.

You were able to convince Margaret to bring out the group's food, but her shift ended shortly after, so you were stuck with the task of bringing them the check. They pooled in their cash, letting you know that you could keep the change. You wished them a good night, receiving a grunt and half-hearted wave from Ellie, still looking at you with pity. You turned back to close and count the money in the cash drawer, but stumbled forward as you were graced with a sharp slap to the ass.

You kept walking away as fast as you could, just wanting the whole ordeal to be over with. The bell above the door rang with their departure.

"Don't act like you guys didn't want a piece of that."

"Dude..."

"No kidding! A cute little thing like that would look real good on my arm, doncha think?" John was slurring and stumbling, obviously having been overserved by their second waitress.

Ellie chimed in, "it's a wonder you're still single, Johnny Boy."

"Don't call me that," was growled.

"Wouldn't have to if you weren't acting like a child who don't know better." Ellie laughed, "didn't your mama teach you how to treat a lady?"

"Don't go acting like you know my mama, she's a good Christian woman and she wouldn't take kindly to that."

"Obviously not good or Christian enough to teach you right from wrong."

Jesse stepped forward to put a hand on her shoulder, "cool it, Ellie. He's not worth it."

"Not worth it? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" John nearly shouted as the other man attempted to keep him upright.

"John, it doesn't matter. You scared the poor gal in there and that's that" Jesse admonished and led Ellie away. They could hear the incoherent shouts and slurs as they returned to their respective cars. Jesse pulled out of the parking lot with a wave in Ellie's direction, and Ellie sat in her truck for a few moments before resigning herself to wait.

You locked the diner's back door with shivering fingers. It was nearing 10 o'clock at night and the last bus had come at 8:30, so you would be walking home. After only a few steps, though, you heard a car door slam. You flinched and turned around with your bag held in front of you as a makeshift shield, but were met by Ellie leaning against her truck and smoking a cigarette. She offered you a weak, apologetic smile but you could only frown in return. Ellie waved and offered you an almost inaudible "hey."

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" you feigned ignorance, "cause you couldn't look me in the eye less than an hour ago."

She had the common sense to look ashamed, "I just didn't want anyone to get any ideas..."

"Ideas about what? That I'm worthy of your time and attention?"

"You know I didn't mean any harm by it-"

"It still hurt, Ellie, even if you didn't mean it." You felt tears line your eyes and tried to regulate your breathing, "and it hurt that you didn't do anything about your fucking coworker. He spilled beer on me and slapped my ass, but you just stood and watched, and another thing!” But you were cut off, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, okay?" Ellie burst out, remaining tense. "I just, I like you and I was afraid for them to know that."

"I like you too Ellie. I thought I'd made that clear by now."

She sighed and wiped a hand down her face, "I don't think we're on the same page..." She took in a deep breath, “I like you in the same way a man does a woman. And I think I could come to love you."

You felt your face go hot, and your thoughts were sent into a tailspin. She, a woman, liked you, a woman. It was a concept practically unheard of unless you sought it out or were fear-mongered away from it. It had always seemed to be the natural order of things for a woman to lose her last name and independence to become a Mr's Mrs. It gave you butterflies the idea of taking Ellie's last name. It was so simple, the answer why, but you had pretended not to see it all this time.

"I think I like you too Ellie, and not just in the friend way..." you shyly admitted. "I have feelings for you that I don't know how to explain."

Ellie chuckled, "you don't need to understand or explain. All I know is I feel a pull to you not like anyone I've met."

Ellie offered to drive you home since it was cold and window out and "there's shady characters out this time of night." She must have meant her coworker. You almost wished the drive could have lasted longer, but you and Ellie had to part ways. Ellie stood behind you as you unlocked the door, claiming she wanted to make sure you got inside safe before she left. Once it'd popped open, you stood in the entryway and stared, unsure of how to end the night. "Well... goodnight, Ellie. I'll see you at the diner again soon, yeah?"

Ellie nodded, and murmured out, "for sure, yeah. Have a good night..."

You smiled warmly and moved to close the door, but you were stopped by a foot in your doorway that nearly made you scream.

"Wait!" Ellie called, and you pulled the door back just enough to see her. She gulped, "Do you have plans this Saturday?"

"Um, I'm working in the morning but I'm free after three o'clock."

"Do you want to go dancing with me? On Saturday? At 7?"

You were excited but apprehensive, "Ellie... I would love to but where are we supposed to go dancing with each other?" Simply the act of dancing cheek-to-cheek with each other could feel like a risk, but Ellie was quick to quell your worries.

"It's called Tootsie's. It's out on the edge of town so you've probably never heard of it, but you'll love it, promise. I can pick you up?"

You were still apprehensive but agreed. The chance to see Ellie again was worth the anxiety. "Alright, you promised," you tried to say firmly, but couldn't help the smile on your face. You wished Ellie goodnight and made to close the door once again-

"Wait! One more thing"

You opened it again, "yes? Everything alright?" She was silent for a moment. "...Ellie?"

"Can I kiss you?"

You froze in disbelief. You took a tentative step forward, glancing between her lips and her eyes. "Please..."

She smiled and reached out to cup your cheek, and leaned in to give you a gentle peck on the lips. Smiling brighter than she had all night, she wished you goodbye with a wave, "see you Saturday, sugar."

You stood in the doorway and watched as Ellie crossed your yard and climbed into her truck. She drove away into the night, and you snapped out of the trance she had put you in. You shut the door behind you and leaned against it. Your lips still tingled where Ellie had kissed you, and you brought your fingertips to them to brush against your lip. Three days until Saturday, and you would count down the minutes.

You didn't expect Ellie to be the kind of girl to show up early, but you heard a knock on the door at 6:47. You had been running back and forth from bedroom to bathroom to obsess over your hair, face, and outfit. She had only seen you in your diner uniform, and you had only seen her in coveralls. You fiddled with the ends of your hair anxiously as you stepped up to the door and looked out the peep-hole. It was Ellie, hands tucked in pockets and rocking back and forth on her heels.

You took a deep breath, unlocked the door, and practically ripped it open to greet her.

"Hey! It's about... time." Ellie found herself lost in thought as she looked you up and down with an unreadable expression.

You shifted nervously on your feet, "does it look alright?"

Ellie cleared her throat to regain her ability to form words, "no, I mean- yes, I mean-- it looks more than alright, you look so pretty."

You look down at your dress and lean over the full skirt to peer down at your freshly polished shoes, "you really think so?"

"Of course. I meant what I said and I wouldn't lie to you about that." Ellie tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, "don't get me wrong, you look adorable in your little skirt and apron covered in food and beer. This though, you look... wow."

You laughed, "you don't clean up too bad either, El." She blushed at the compliment and turned to look away shyly. She smelled of sawdust and fresh spring air. Instead of her dirty old coveralls, Ellie wore a pair of blue Levis 501s with the ankles cuffed and a white t-shirt tucked into the waist. Her black leather lace-up boots thumped heavily against the planks of your patio, perfectly matching the black leather belt that accentuated her waist. On her shoulders rested a denim jacket with a sherpa lining, and she stood with her hands tucked in its pockets. She looked down at herself, "you really think so?"

You shook your head and laughed, "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."

You thought you had seen all of Jackson with how long you'd been there, but Ellie had taken you somewhere wholly unfamiliar. Tootsie's didn't look inviting from the outside, what with its location on the outside of town, its blacked out windows, or the empty storefronts on either side. There was no sign out front, just lettering on the door "Tootsie's--No trespassing, no solicitors, no loitering, members only."

"Members?" you looked at Ellie curiously.

"Just folks like us," Ellie responded with a half-smile. Ellie knocked heavily on the door, and after almost a full minute it opened to a tall, intimidating figure.

"Hiya, Barb! How ya been?" Ellie greeted and leaned "casually" against the door frame.

Barb didn't seem up for small talk. "You still haven't paid your tab from two weeks ago."

"Oh," Ellie looked to the side and itched the back of her neck, "about that, my timecard got processed late?"

"Is that an answer or a question?" Barb grumbled and leaned in.

Ellie flinched, "answer! It's an answer. 'Sides I got the money right here so it's no big deal. Here..." and Ellie dug through her pockets to pull out a few crumpled bills and deposited them into Barb's waiting hand. She counted the bills, looked up at Ellie briefly, and let you pass with a nod. You went in first, and didn't catch what Barb whispered to Ellie on her way in, but you did notice the blush on her face.

Inside the bar, it was dimly lit with a haze of cigarette smoke. Your shoes stuck to the floorboards that had long been saturated with beer. The smell of booze and ash hung in the air. Had it not been for the clientele, you would have assumed it was just another dive bar.

Across the room, pairs of women and pairs of men danced cheek-to-cheek to the crooning of the jukebox. Lyrics of love and devotion filled the room, dancers switching the song's pronouns to express the truth of their love. The booths held couples with hands on thighs and around shoulders, public displays of affection that you hadn’t seen anywhere else. Your heart softened. You almost had to hold back a coo at how intimate the scene was. Lovers held each other close; a closeness that couldn't be shared outside closed doors. You quickly came to the conclusion that this was love of a greater depth than you had ever seen or felt before. There was no power struggle or prescribed gender role. Simply two people looking into one another's hearts and feeling like they've found home. 'Where have they been all my life?' you pondered, 'why did it take me so long to find you?'

You were pulled from your reverie by a grip on your wrist. Ellie had taken you by the hand and gestured toward the jukebox, "will you dance with me?"

You stumbled behind her with a giggle, "I'd love to." Ellie dug through her pockets for a nickel, and deposited it into the machine to queue up her song. She contemplates her song choice before keying in her selection. Satisfied, she pulled you to the dance floor to sway with the other lovers until her song played. Ellie pulled you forward by the hips, guiding one of your hands to her shoulder while she held the other in her own. "I'll lead, okay? Just follow me."

She gave you an excited grin as the song ended. The drums and brass kicked in, and you returned her smile. “I've got sunshiiine, on a clouudy dayyy."

"You're so cheesy, you know that?" you say to her with your forehead pressed against hers.

You feel her breathy laugh hit your lips, "but it's working, right? You haven't left yet."

One of her legs remained between your own, guiding the movements of your feet and hips along with hers. Her touch warmed you through. The callouses on her hands reflected years of hard labor, and pale lines on forearms and cheekbones told stories of fights lost and won. You committed them to memory, determined to cherish this moment as Ellie held you and crooned over the Temptations that you were "my girl, my girl, my girl. Talkin' 'bout my giiirl." The lovers around you faded into the background. As far as you were concerned, it was just you and Ellie.

You couldn't stop looking between her eyes and her lips. Ellie smirked as the song came to an end, "why don't you believe she's all my girl?" The smile remained on her face as she took your chin between her index finger and thumb before meeting your lips with her own. She kissed you tenderly and passionately. You hummed into the kiss, and Ellie mirrored your enthusiasm with a swipe of her tongue to your bottom lip. You froze in surprise at her forwardness, to which she nipped at your bottom lip and slips her tongue against yours. Her lips and tongue were so soft as they worked desperately to taste you and feel you tremble under her hands.

Your hand gripped the front of Ellie's shirt as you began to run out of breath, and you both reluctantly pulled back to pant and stare into each other's love-drunk eyes. Her eyes met yours with an unspoken question and a bite to her bottom lip. Ellie's hands gripped your hips to pull them ever closer, hoping you understood her intentions. You blushed in realization but rewarded her with a nod.

Ellie pulled you past the bouncer with urgency, and you swear you heard a deep chuckle from Barb on the wait. Shaking hands fiddled with the keys to her pickup, dropping them once on the ground before successfully unlocking the door and lifting you into the cab with surprising strength.

Ellie climbed in after you with an order of "in the back."

Your skirt and petticoat flipped up over your behind as you crawled between the seats, flashing Ellie your thin panties. For a moment she swore she could see a wet patch at your center. You scooted back on the narrow bench, spreading your legs so Ellie could rest on her knees between them. She wasted no time, leaning down to kiss you messily. Ellie sucked on your tongue, causing you to whimper and pull back with a gasp.

Ellie huskily whispered in your ear, "I've wanted to touch you like this the second I saw you, prancing around in your cute little skirt and apron." You were practically breathless as she littered kisses and sucks down your neck and to your collarbones. You would get mad at her later for the multitude of bruises, but you didn't have half a mind to care.

Warm, rough hands slid up your shoulders and down your sternum to take the low neckline of your dress into her grip. She pulled the material to rest below your breast, whispering out a low "fuck..." Ellie took your breasts into her palms, squeezing them while circling your nipples with her thumbs. She admired their shape and softness as she held them in her hands, giving them a squeeze and leaning down to flick a nipple with her tongue. You arched your back into her touch as she took your nipple into her mouth to suck, pinching the other between her finger and thumb.

You moaned out her name as she lavished your breasts with licks, kisses, and the occasional bite. Your sensitivity heightened with every touch, and Ellie could tell from the twitching of your thighs at her hips that you were craving more.

Ellie withdrew, grazing your nipple with the points of her teeth to make you flinch. She sat back and circled each nipple with the pad of her thumbs, the saliva left behind making you shiver as they hardened with the attention and cold. "What do you need, baby?"

You brought the back of your hand to rest against your forehead, flushed and panting. "More... please, Ellie."

Ellie smirked, "more what, honey?"

If you were in your right mind, you would have attempted to articulate that this was all new. The pleasure you felt was more intense and mor intimate than anything you'd felt before, and all you knew is that you wanted Ellie to touch you more. Ellie took mercy on you after a few moments of watching your face twist with embarrassment. She hummed for a moment in thought and shifted to press her knee between your thighs. You gasped and bucked your hips at the sudden stimulation to your clit, and Ellie had found her answer.

"Right there, huh? You want to feel me right here?" she questioned despite already knowing the answer. You shyly nodded and continued to grind your hips against the pressure of Ellie's thigh. "Ah-ah, you gotta tell me out loud or I won't know what you really want," she teased.

You take one of Ellie's hands into yours to draw it toward the hot, wet patch on your panties, "here, I need you right here... Please, Ellie, I can't take it."

More than pleased with your answer, Ellie scooted backwards so she could press her palm to your core. She cupped your pussy through your panties, grinding the heel of her palm against your clit. She stroked her hand across the length of your pussy before slipping her fingers into the hem of your panties. You helped her wriggle them down your legs, and Ellie gripped your knees to spread your legs wide open. For a moment, she just admired your glowing frame beneath her. Your lips glistened with arousal, starting to drip down the curve of your thigh to pool onto the truck's leather seats. "Such a pretty pussy..." Ellie mused, licking her thumb to rubbing slow circles around your clit. She reveled in your sensitivity and the ease with which she could pull whimpers and whines from you. You were so much fun to play with. Your hips followed the movements of her fingers to chase the pleasure. "Feels so good, doesn't it, baby?" Ellie cooed.

You whimpered and nodded once again but squeaked out a "yes!" when Ellie returned your silence with a slap to your clit. But her tender touches returned with greater intensity, switching from slow circles on your clit to swipes left and right with the tips of her fingers. Your thighs trembled and attempted to thrash, but Ellie forced your legs to remain open. "And you're all mine..." Ellie murmured, mostly to herself.

Ellie couldn't wipe the smile from her face as she abused your pussy, but she knew that she could make you squirm harder and squeal louder. She slowed her ministrations on your clit just enough to draw your focus and a whine of her name, "wha- why'd you stop?"

Ellie's gaze was intense, more serious than she had ever looked. "I need to fuck you. I want to feel you squeeze my fingers and drip down my wrist." She leaned down to press kisses up your chest and the side of your neck. Her breath puffed against your ear and nearly made you shiver, "will you let me, honey? I promise if you be my baby I'll make you feel so good."

"I'll be your baby, Ellie. Please make me yours."

She met you with an excited grin before sucking two fingers into her mouth to wet them. She withdrew them with a "pop" and brought them to your core. "You ready?"

You looked between Ellie's eyes and her fingers, "mhm, please, Ellie."

The tips of her fingers circled your hole once, twice, three times before penetrating to the first knuckle and thrusting shallowly. "So warm... you feel so good," Ellie cooed. You had flinched initially, but melted into the haze of pleasure as she thrusted deeper. Ellie paid close attention to your face and voice to guide you to your orgasm, noticing your breaths slow and your brows furrow with her gentle pace.

"You need more, don't you, baby? Want me to fuck you harder?" You nodded with a whimper and a plead, so Ellie curled her fingers and pumped them upward to abuse your g-spot. Your pussy made obscene, wet noises as Ellie jabbed the tips of her fingers against the spot on your walls that made you squeal and arch. "Doing so so good for me, angel, I can feel you squeezing me." You could only respond with groans and guttural noises from deep in your throat. If you could only hear yourself, you would be ashamed at your whoreish behavior.

Your body shook and your jaw slacked as you gasped for air. One of your hands came up to squeeze your breast, while the other gripped Ellie's forearm tightly. She could feel the bite of your nails but couldn't be bothered to care when you were this overwhelmed with pleasure beneath her. The burn in your stomach was a raging inferno at this point, your clit and walls pulsing with heat. Ellie could tell you were nearing the edge by the way your eyes kept rolling and your back arching up and falling backward onto the leather seats. "Ellieee, I- I'm so close, please. Please..."

Her grin only widened, a vibrant flush on her cheeks from excitement and exertion. Her fingers picked up her pace, gripping you by the hip for leverage as she pulled you toward orgasm. She knew just what you needed to throw you over the edge, "rub your clit for me, honey." She guided your hand away from her forearm to the mess between your thighs, "two fingers, do little circles for me, baby. Yeah, just like that." The friction on your clit shot through you like lightning, and you had to withdraw your other hand from your breast to grip your other wrist and quell its trembling. Ellie's fingers curled up just right with a firm jab and a squelch, and your pussy gripped her tightly. You could only let out throaty groans as you peaked, unable to form words or warn Ellie of your orgasm. You cum drooled down between your lips, Ellie's fingers and hand covered in your slick as she guided you through your orgasm. She slowed and withdrew her fingers from your pussy, circling your clit with her thumb once again until the bucking of your hips slowed and she felt your muscles tense at the stimulation.

Ellie pulled back to revel in her job well done. Your hazy eyes refocused with a peck to the tip of your nose. You smiled tiredly at one another, and you couldn't hold back your thoughts, "I've never felt like this for someone..."

Ellie looked confused for a moment and tilted her head, "huh? Like you've never come before?"

You laughed and looked away shyly, "no, not that. I mean, you did make me feel better than anyone has but I meant like... I have strong feelings for you."

Ellie smiled like a kid on Christmas and dropped down to smother you in a hug, "you'll just have to be my girl, then, won't you?"

You mirrored her smile and laugh at her enthusiasm, "I would want nothing more."

Very loosely inspired by the setting (not characters, Ellie isn’t really butch to me) of Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg (an essential read and one of my favorite people). Be kind to each other, we’re just making our dolls kiss. I see a lot of discourse over characterizations of the subject or reader and how it should be done. We like our characters and we envision how they would or wouldn’t act, but unless you’re writing the story then it probably won’t fit your expectations.

[thealexandriaarchives]

The Season's Been Laid Out in the Cards...

The above are a direct depiction of the editing of the show:

Lou views the wall of evidence with Sam Dalton, and says 'So it seems like it's about Objects. Do we have these things? Do we put them on the numbers? (This is correct to escape the step)

The lore provided for Sam Dalton's disappearance reads: "SAMUEL DALTON PRESUMED DEAD Friends and Colleagues gathered this past Saturday to mourn the passing of Samuel Dalton, who disappeared during his magic act last July. Dalton had encircled himself with household objects over the numbers of a clock when a bolt of lightning struck a magnet overhead leaving behind only his smoldering footprints. He is survived by his two sons, Ray and Bolt Dalton, who have since denounced the magical arts."

Brennan suggests someone goes out to start collecting the objects they need, and someone else "stay in here and see if they exist in this space". Sam looks shocked and delighted, looking offstage at someone, and biting his hand to stay quiet. Brennan notices, and asks "What are you biting your hand about?" suspiciously. Sam dramatically mimes zipping his lip and says nothing.

A couple of things that are not in the editing but personal theory notes:

This editing compared to the fairly clear and concise wrap-up on rewatch, especially Sam's over the top reaction to this bit, and the multiple maintained clips that carefully compare the red room to hell/purgatory (Siobhan calls it Sartre-esque, etc) while we are now seeing a decay makes me fairly sure it's foreshadowing.

Escape the Room aired in March, but if we have a 13 episode season again the finale will be in July, when Samuel Dalton disappeared.

I do not know if the episodes are meant to be in order, or if they're exact #s, but there are many things Sam has given this season (Plant, Watch, Jacket) as either prizes or challenges directly, OR episodes could be more metaphorically interpreted (Ace of Cheetos - the single episode designed to torture the snacker, Two of Pillows for the Newlyweds)

Episodes like 6x03 the Three of Coats for Sam Says 3 with a wardrobe challenge or 6x06 Deja Vu with a with a watch prize and time theme have all of the above etc

The Playing Card Items: Ace - Cheeto, 2 - Pillows, 3 - Coats, 4 - Lint Rollers, 5 - Plants, 6 - Clocks, 7 - Vases, 8 - Shoe, 9 - Fire Extinguisher, 10 - Guitar, Jack - Smoke Detector, Queen - Surge Protector, King - Paper Clip

The Other Items Surrounding Samuel Dalton: Scales, Phonograph, Typewriter, Rotary Phone, Photo Camera, Video Camera, Pocket Watch, Bowler Hat

[deathby1000sluts]

some of my favorite finds from the first antique store. the only i came home with was a metal wizard of oz sign.

[the-morningstar-family]

Lucifer do try to make sure Alastor takes a break every once in a while, pregnancy isn't easy

Both parents have been on the phone's the whole morning. The deer obviously chose old rotary phones.

Alastor just hung up on a most difficult lady doing the flower arrangement. But before he can have some respite, Theodora is standing before him, arms crossed. Oh no, Alastor knows that look.

Alastor: “... I am not exactly sure what I have done to warrant such a look”

Theodora: “Y'a seen de clock, dear?”

He actually hadn't keeping track of time, he glances at the clock, 1:20pm. Hm, high time to prepare lunch.

Alastor, sighing: “Yes you're right, I'll be right on that. The children need their food-”

The woman softens.

Theodora: “It's ‘bout you too, dear. You got little ones cookin’ in dere, don’t you forget it! You gotta eat, or you gonna be fallin' down like a chicken in a pot!”

Alastor: “My weight gain has been perfectly adequate, I'll have you know.”

She frowns even deeper, he regrets talking back instantly.

Theodora: “If you keep on like this, t'won't stay like dat! Get on up! We fixin' to make lunch.”

Alastor: “Yes Mama”

Once they agree upon a recipe, they work in synch like always. Watching them cooking is mesmerizing. At least Lucifer, who's secretly watching from behind the doorway does. He doesn't want to interrupt him.

Theodora: “Your man thinks he’s slick”

Alastor: “Let him, he needs enrichment”

They joke low enough that the king doesn't hear, only their soft snickering reaches his ears. a few more cuts, and the woman glances at the ever turning clock again.

Theadora: “Y'know what I told ya 'bout keepin' a good schedule?”

Alastor: “Yes, yes- I didn't mean to forget. I am not usually letting time fly away.”

She frowns, speaking up louder now.

Theodora: “Lucifer, dear, come on in here, y'hear?”

The king is startled. Instantly nervous. But he obliges, stepping into the kitchen which is slowly filling with a lovely scent.

Theodora: “I know y’all busy, but you gotta jot down a plan. Both of ya togetha. And y’all better stick to it.”

Alastor: “We can, but we should wait until -”

Theodora: “You faint 'cause you don't eat? Non, chérie, you gonna jot somethin' down dis evenin'!”

Lucifer: “Yeah, we can do that. Writing a schedule shouldn't take too long, should it?”

Alastor: “... Fine. Yes.”

Theadora: “Dat’s what I like t’hear!”

A smile spreads on her face that makes Alastor's own soften so that

they match. He doesn't want to ever miss it again, he's unsure if he could take that. Probably not.

For now he doesn't have to think about it.