#stellar neighborhood

[stellarneighborhood]

Just had to get some new beauty shots of our best sellers in the new studio space...

Handmade 90s Bead Lizard Bracelets and Earrings are available now! ⭐️

Just check out our reviews and you'll see why Brian hasn't been able to stop making them for two years!

[shelbycragg]

We just stocked some new jewelry designs at your local Stellar Neighborhood!

Great as a set or as individual pieces, our rainbow bead lizard earrings and cobalt rainbow flower necklaces are sure to brighten up your days!

⭐Made by Brian in Durham, NC⭐

[madelinelovesick]

[nasa]

Astronomers used three of NASA's Great Observatories to capture this multiwavelength image showing galaxy cluster IDCS J1426.5+3508. It includes X-rays recorded by the Chandra X-ray Observatory in blue, visible light observed by the Hubble Space Telescope in green, and infrared light from the Spitzer Space Telescope in red. This rare galaxy cluster has important implications for understanding how these megastructures formed and evolved early in the universe.

How Astronomers Time Travel

Let’s add another item to your travel bucket list: the early universe! You don’t need the type of time machine you see in sci-fi movies, and you don’t have to worry about getting trapped in the past. You don’t even need to leave the comfort of your home! All you need is a powerful space-based telescope.

But let’s start small and work our way up to the farthest reaches of space. We’ll explain how it all works along the way.

This animation illustrates how fast light travels between Earth and the Moon. The farther light has to travel, the more noticeable its speed limit becomes.

The speed of light is superfast, but it isn’t infinite. It travels at about 186,000 miles (300 million meters) per second. That means that it takes time for the light from any object to reach our eyes. The farther it is, the more time it takes.

You can see nearby things basically in real time because the light travel time isn’t long enough to make a difference. Even if an object is 100 miles (161 kilometers) away, it takes just 0.0005 seconds for light to travel that far. But on astronomical scales, the effects become noticeable.

This infographic shows how long it takes light to travel to different planets in our solar system.

Within our solar system, light’s speed limit means it can take a while to communicate back and forth between spacecraft and ground stations on Earth. We see the Moon, Sun, and planets as they were slightly in the past, but it's not usually far enough back to be scientifically interesting.

As we peer farther out into our galaxy, we use light-years to talk about distances. Smaller units like miles or kilometers would be too overwhelming and we’d lose a sense of their meaning. One light-year – the distance light travels in a year – is nearly 6 trillion miles (9.5 trillion kilometers). And that’s just a tiny baby step into the cosmos.

The Sun’s closest neighboring star, Proxima Centauri, is 4.2 light-years away. That means we see it as it was about four years ago. Betelgeuse, a more distant (and more volatile) stellar neighbor, is around 700 light-years away. Because of light’s lag time, astronomers don’t know for sure whether this supergiant star is still there! It may have already blasted itself apart in a supernova explosion – but it probably has another 10,000 years or more to go.

What looks much like craggy mountains on a moonlit evening is actually the edge of a nearby, young, star-forming region NGC 3324 in the Carina Nebula. Captured in infrared light by the Near-Infrared Camera (NIRCam) on NASA’s James Webb Space Telescope, this image reveals previously obscured areas of star birth.

The Carina Nebula clocks in at 7,500 light-years away, which means the light we receive from it today began its journey about 3,000 years before the pyramids of Giza in Egypt were built! Many new stars there have undoubtedly been born by now, but their light may not reach Earth for thousands of years.

An artist’s concept of our Milky Way galaxy, with rough locations for the Sun and Carina nebula marked.

If we zoom way out, you can see that 7,500 light-years away is still pretty much within our neighborhood. Let’s look further back in time…

This stunning image by the NASA/ESA Hubble Space Telescope features the spiral galaxy NGC 5643. Looking this good isn’t easy; 30 different exposures, for a total of nine hours of observation time, together with Hubble’s high resolution and clarity, were needed to produce an image of such exquisite detail and beauty.

Peering outside our Milky Way galaxy transports us much further into the past. The Andromeda galaxy, our nearest large galactic neighbor, is about 2.5 million light-years away. And that’s still pretty close, as far as the universe goes. The image above shows the spiral galaxy NGC 5643, which is about 60 million light-years away! That means we see it as it was about 60 million years ago.

As telescopes look deeper into the universe, they capture snapshots in time from different cosmic eras. Astronomers can stitch those snapshots together to unravel things like galaxy evolution. The closest ones are more mature; we see them nearly as they truly are in the present day because their light doesn’t have to travel as far to reach us. We can’t rewind those galaxies (or our own), but we can get clues about how they likely developed. Looking at galaxies that are farther and farther away means seeing these star cities in ever earlier stages of development.

The farthest galaxies we can see are both old and young. They’re billions of years old now, and the light we receive from them is ancient since it took so long to traverse the cosmos. But since their light was emitted when the galaxies were young, it gives us a view of their infancy.

This animation is an artist’s concept of the big bang, with representations of the early universe and its expansion.

Comparing how fast objects at different distances are moving away opened up the biggest mystery in modern astronomy: cosmic acceleration. The universe was already expanding as a result of the big bang, but astronomers expected it to slow down over time. Instead, it’s speeding up!

The universe’s expansion makes it tricky to talk about the distances of the farthest objects. We often use lookback time, which is the amount of time it took for an object’s light to reach us. That’s simpler than using a literal distance, because an object that was 10 billion light-years away when it emitted the light we received from it would actually be more than 16 billion light-years away right now, due to the expansion of space. We can even see objects that are presently over 30 billion light-years from Earth, even though the universe is only about 14 billion years old.

This James Webb Space Telescope image shines with the light from galaxies that are more than 13.4 billion years old, dating back to less than 400 million years after the big bang.

Our James Webb Space Telescope has helped us time travel back more than 13.4 billion years, to when the universe was less than 400 million years old. When our Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope launches in a few years, astronomers will pair its vast view of space with Webb’s zooming capabilities to study the early universe in better ways than ever before. And don’t worry – these telescopes will make plenty of pit stops along the way at other exciting cosmic destinations across space and time.

Learn more about the exciting science Roman will investigate on X and Facebook.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[lets-try-some-writing]

yo what if instead of less armor/softer protoform, sparklings had a Ton of kibble and armor to later grow into and spiky bits for protection

imagine baby drift with the same size finials. just. Huge finials on that lil bud

and on earth, cybertronians are /enamoured/ by echidna, armadillos, and porcupines

That would be hilarious, but would also make a lot of sense survival wise. All these sparklings popping out of the Well and from Hotspots really need the protection. I can imagine that the spiker looking they are, the less likely animals are to attack. So baby Drift with giant finials is sitting comfortably in the 'do not attack' category.

I can imagine that since these sparklings emerge with a crap ton of extra armor, their first ever alt mode is quite literally, a ball or some variation of one. Even the fliers start life as balls and roll for their lives when chased until they turn into SPIKY balls.

Just, packs of sparklings who've just begun to grow in their rather pointy kibble roaming Cybertron and tearing up the ground wherever they go. Small bundles of terror in the form of minicons and cassette carrier sparklings causing problems as a group. Dog sized sparklings so prickly and covered in spikes that they can and will get onto roads and stare down mecha who drive at them with a promise of pain in their optics. Fliers and future speedsters skidding over the landscape as apocalypses in their attempts to get from point A to point B as fast as physically possible while also tearing up everything with all their kibble.

These small creatures might as well be resident plows with how well they shred the ground in their attempts to get around. It's only made worse because they all have the inbuilt desire to get to the biggest collection of Cybertronians in range, so they can and will damage roads, housing, and everything in between in they are not caught before they can roam. A sparkling that gets rolling is very unlikely to stop until they get hungry, and even then, they are so spiky by that point that trying to grab one is the same as drop kicking oneself into a pack of cyber-hounds.

I can imagine whole agencies being devoted to collecting the balls of mayhem. Every speedster across Cybertron has to spend at least a few stellar cycles helping the Well Guardians rush after sparklings who roll away too quickly to be caught after their emergence. Every speedster carries at least a few scars from a prickly pack of sparklings getting a bit too excited to be near people or rather upset at the idea of behind captured.

Even after the terror tornados are brought into civilization, I can see these spikey creatures still causing trouble. They can't get alt-modes until they are older, so until then, rolling ball of destruction it is. Much of the tax money gathered for repair work is devoted to repairing roads that were obliterated by a rogue sparkling having a field day on some unsuspecting neighborhood.

Some are feral. Some are clingy and cute.

All are wheel puncturing menaces to society.

[phoneuserhana333]

.°˖✧ neighbor!doctor!abby / neighbor!producer!reader headcanons .°˖✧

tags: enemies to friends to lovers, cocky!yn/annoyed!abby, mutual pining, dumb lesbians, unresolved tension, more to be added.

PART2 — PART3 — NSFWHC — N(SFW)HC

• after finishing med school, abby got a job at her dad’s private clinic outside of new york, which she quit after working there for a year

• during college, she was a victim of horrible gossip; everybody thought that she had it easy because of her dad being one of the best doctors in new york (to be fair, she was more privileged than other students because of this, but she would never admit it)

• and because of the desire to prove herself, she quit her “safe” job to go to work at the ER in the city to prove that she isn’t just somebody’s spoiled daughter who happened to be in the medical field

• she moved out closer to manhattan because of her new job, renting out a small brick red townhouse in a row of other copy-pasted houses, filling the shelves with books and the kitchen with spices. it was truly her home, which was something she took pride in.

• abby’s first interaction with her neighborhood critters went stellar; she met margaret, an old lady who lived across the street with her tortoiseshell cats clara and mima. margaret and abby grew close and she would go over to her house to have tea every saturday.

• abby’s second interaction with her neighbors however… didn’t go that as well as she thought it would

• she had some sense of what her next door neighbor was like- or at least she thought she did

• music would be blasting every night, approximately from 9pm to 6am- when she left for work. abby concluded that her neighbor was either a musician, a nepotism baby (pot calling the kettle black) or just insane.

• some days, her neighbor would be playing piano, guitar or banging on drums. on tuesdays, abby could hear her sing (“she’s screeching like a banshee manny, it’s like- 2:35am! wha- no, she doesn’t sound good, you’re just hearing things!”, she would complain to her friends) and on fridays, her mysterious musician neighbor held parties

• abby tired to be patient, but her abundant patience lasted her maybe one and a half month, before she found herself banging on her neighbor’s front door, dressed in a muscle tee with her hair falling out of her fishtail braid

• abby looked at her watch- 1244 steps, 4:22am, friday. she groaned and rubbed her face, realizing that she was about to meet her (probably very drunk) noisy neighbor, but to abby’s surprise- the door didn’t open

• she could hear the music turn down and a few girlish giggles behind the door, confusing her further

• right as the blonde started knocking again, the lights turned off and she could hear a familiar voice yell- “nobody’s home! go away!”, followed by muffled laughter

• this pushed abby over the edge- countless nights of sleeplessness, an irregular meal schedule and long day shifts at the ER finally caught up to her, and her annoying neighbor was about to be on the receiving end of her wraith

• “you’re troublesome, you know that?! always being so loud during the night, while some of us have work in the morning! get out here right fucking now and turn that god-awful music down!”

• abby let out a shaky, frustrated breath, suddenly being met with a tense silence, she took a step away from the door, thinking she finally got her neighbor to quiet down for once, before she hear that same agitating voice retort-

• “… whatever, grandma!”, followed by the music turning back on, laughter and chatter continuing into the night.

• by this point, abby’s chest and face were cherry red and she was stomping back to her house, trying to ignore the pang of embarrassment and frustration in her belly

• dr. anderson fell asleep with her earbuds in and woke up with a horrendous headache, only to have to get ready for her 7am shift at the hospital

• soon enough, abby was locking the door to her townhouse, double checking the contents of her lunch bag and briefcase (a gift from her dad, duh), when she noticed it, noticed her

• dressed in a kitsch black coat with fluffy white fur around the sleeves, donning gloves and a matching baby blue scarf in the middle of god forsaken october, was her favorite next door neighbor, blissfully unaware of the death stare she was receiving

• abby felt her eye twitch when she noticed her bare legs leaning against the railing that lead to her front door- the irony

• “hey! you!” abby made her way over to her neighbor’s staircase, nearly tripping over her bags and coat, before she stopped at the bottom, staring up at her with tired bloodshot eyes and a red, scrunched up face

• “um… hi? do i know you?”

• “don’t act all sweet now, you need to be put in your place. what the hell is wrong with you-“

• on the other hand, you lazily smiled, and continued staring at her. must be my lucky day, you thought, eyeing abby’s buff body and biting your lower lip, eyes sticking to her arms which were flailing around as she yelled at you for- oh, she’s the woman from last night!

• “y’know, you could’ve just joined us, right? i don’t bite”, you replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

• abby, who despite being caught off guard by your borderline flirty statement, was about to keep going off on you, suddenly got interrupted by her apple watch alarm, warning her that she’ll be late for work

• she looked back at you with storms in her eyes, her glare making you straighten up and cross your arms defensively; your neighbor wasn’t only hot, but also intimidating

• “i do. this isn’t over, you better be home later. we need to talk.”, and with that abby walked away, leaving you with the sight of her towering form disappearing in the streets of new york, prompting you to dramatically fan yourself as your body heated up from the sight

• oh, you were definitely feeling inspired now.

[dallasgallant]

Darry hcs

He got a cheap pair of reading glasses from the drug store and uses them to read the paper and important school documents for Pony. (“This does not leave this house you hear”) they’ve absolutely made fun of him for it because they’ll hang on the tip of his nose and he looks like a grandfather

Darry longs to be able to make a mistake. To mess up. He’s still a kid himself he’s only 20 and he can’t afford the hiccups and mistakes that come with the age. He wants to do something stupid and inconsequential just once.

He’d probably be unsatisfied in a better paying job. He likes to show off and be physical, some sort of office slow employment would kill him.

Takes things literally, it’s easy to mess with him in this way.

Like Pony he very much longs for the way things “used to be”

Is one several neighborhood phone trees

He’s the type to throw the scrawnier of the gang across the pool/lake when they ask for it.

Since they lost their dog he tends to some of the stray hounds around the neighborhood… you can hear them bay in the backyard … a lot.

The Curtis family was never particularly stellar with discipline so coming up with methods to manage his brothers tend to be, as Pony would call it - “cruel and unusual.” He’d think of something on the fly “grounded for till college” would unironically be one he’d think of… he doesn’t mean it of course

Whenever pony gets to the age he shows romantic interest he has the open door rule. Which Darry is 100% hypocritical on because he didn’t have that for soda

[thatlittleviolin]

//A little ramblig about eddie dear bc i cant stop thinking about him

Im not joking when i say this whole post was inspired after seen @//purple-raspberries “the mailman” drawing because O MY STARS WHAT IS THAT DRAWINgGGGGGG /pos

Okay so anyway, whats up with Eddie Dear? As, like, an active character of Welcome Home?

Something rubs me in the wrong way when it comes to him as a whole, not that I dislike him, pretty… much the opposite (thats why I'm making this post) actually, but I feel he is more relevant to the lore than what ppl give him credit for.

Even way before the past-year (2023) Halloween and Homewarming updates, I felt that he must simply be more than what is presented to us about him:

- He is the only character who sees all the rest of the neighbours every day due to his work

- He is one of the few if not the only one who is confirmed to be from outside of Home

- He brings one of the TWO functional clocks in all of Home (which could well be due to the nature of his work, but it doesn't take away from the fact that it's curious)

And I know, ik, this is not a lot. In fact, I believe this is not crucial info, but I want to mention it because it gives, in some way, a certain statement: Eddie Dear is not like everyone else. It differentiates him from the others.

There's simply something intriguing about him; and I constantly think about how, again, he's the resident who interacts most with his neighbors, the most helpful and willing to do anything, and despite that, he's the one who gets the most hits?

Hes always in a rush because he likes helping others, he's clumsy and yet he does his job in a stellar way and yet he goes the more underappreciated by his neighbors and its the first one to get to have his own personal breakdown during the Homewarming

Keep in mind, I don't mean that the other characters are bad or smth, we all know that inside they care for each other and are a pretty nice neighborhood-

But yea, starting with the most obvious, Howdy and Sally are downright condescending, bordering on rude to him. Howdy ignores him or pays half attention when he goes to deliver merchandise to the Bugdega and tries to start a conversation, and despite this, we can see that Howdy asks him for help to deliver things to someone else.

More specifically, during a hidden audio, we can hear that he uses Eddie to deliver an order of bowling balls to Julie DESPITE Howdy having a home delivery system and probably being able to better handle the weight of the merchandise, being at least two heads taller than Eddie, right when Eddie had just told him he had a very tiring day (of course he didn't hear that)

Sally, on her side, is condescending to him to the degree that when we hear them interacting, at least until now, it's mostly her giving him orders. Heck, Sally has a "long name" for every resident EXCEPT Eddie, whom she usually just calls "Mailman" for everything.

Julie and Frank tend to be more passive about it, but it doesn't take away from the fact that they also end up... taking advantage a bit? Or leaving him a bit aside. I know, I know, we all ship FranklyDear here, but it still bothers me how during "Eddie's big lift" (+ another hidden audio) we're shown how Julie tends to involve him in her games without much consideration as to whether Eddie even understands them to begin with, and Frank, despite acknowledging that he works hard and often overworks for everyone, leaves him lying on the ground. They don't even wait for him to get up to say goodbye properly, they just leave him there and go home. It's a bit sad to hear how Eddie talks to himself while getting up and dusting himself off.

And finally, one that I understand is a joke but serves as a transition to my next point: Barnaby and his constant gag of chasing Eddie around the neighborhood as soon as he sees him making his deliveries, or insisting that Eddie lifts him up because “he's just a puppy”. I won't delve into this (not now) because I know that overall that's Barnaby's way of joking; Eddie is not his only victim, but when you mix it with everything said above, it gives off some weird vibes.

It's as if Eddie was the typical "punching bag" character of the show's creators; you know, the one created so that the fun we get from him is at his expense, and sadly, somehow that fact makes sense to me as to why he's the first to have a "breakdown" during Homewarming and said breakdown has to do with, what else? his isolation and probable sadness.

During Sally's history and Poppy's confinement in her own house, there were two predominant themes: what happens when we're in the dark, what lurks in the shadows and whatnot, and isolation: Sally talks about this but Poppy experiences it first hand; shes alone and in the dark, house bricked to the top. However, Eddie gets overwhelmed despite being surrounded by everyone and, clearly, in a lit environment.

My opinion? Said loneliness and darkness don't necessarily need to be tangible, and in Eddie's case, they come from a mental place. My dear doesn't seem to have too much appreciation for himself, constantly letting people get the help they want (need, of course) from him at the cost of his own well-being. Eddie Dear is not happy, in fact, I feel he puts himself down a bit, which equates to darkness, and when he can distract himself from this fact again, Home reminds him; and his loneliness comes in a literal-but-not way. Eddie is never alone, that's evident, but again, in the Homewarming video we're not only emphasized that he's upset and confused because no one has asked him for help, but because he DOESN'T KNOW how to handle his own activities outside of work. Anything that doesn't have to do with the post office but is more personal overwhelms him because he's not used to thinking outside of how he should help others because that's his "only" way of interacting with them. Eddie needs to be needed in order to be closer to others, and when that's not the case, it frustrates him so much that it even seems like anger.

Heck, it's even sad how Sally mentions that nobody bothered him with the usual tasks they would require him for to give him a day off, and then downright nobody interacted with him. Not even Julie called him to play. When Sally finds him under Home's tree, she asks him to escort her to Home for the Homewarming and it's narrated that they're the last to arrive, but if Eddie hadn't left his house then... what? Would he have stayed there? (Lowkey I theorize that he wouldn't have, because of the fact that Sally and Frank seem to have more awareness than the others, I feel like she was actually waiting for him)

Personally, I consider that when it comes to a case like Eddie's, it's even worse, because you don't need to be actively in a closed and dark place, isolated (in what voluntary situation would someone have to be like that?) for your head to go completely to shit. Think about it, you make Home angry and he doesn't need the rest of the neighbors to build a wall around you. It does what you already do well: it locks you up with your thoughts and leaves you there.

So,,, uh, yeah, I don't know how to end this.

I just wanted to talk about my fav man.

somebody help him PLAEASSE

[callsign-venus]

Put a Bow on It | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: You find out that Bradley's present-wrapping skills are... less than stellar, so it's up to you to save Christmas.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: fluff, a few very light sexual references, incompetence of a grown man, fluffy fluff fluff

a/n: Thank you for the love on my previous posts — I’m really thankful to everyone who reads my silly little stories. Hope y’all enjoy this one, Merry Christmas!

“You can’t look at me like that,” Bradley says.

“Like what?” You ask, though you know exactly what he means.

It’s not that you mean to look at him with such pity, but who can blame you?

You weren’t exactly sure how he got himself into such a mess when you were only in the kitchen making coffees. Wedged between a stack of boxed Barbies and no less than 12 rolls of wrapping paper scattered across your living room floor, Bradley looks less competent aviator and more like an unsupervised 5th grader. Tattered strips of Santa wrapping paper curl around him, scraps of tape line both of his exposed thighs, and he’s so flustered he hasn’t even removed the bright red bow you tied around his head earlier. You both look down at the lumpy present sitting on the rug in front of him. For all his efforts, it wasn’t a spectacular result. 

“You did great.” You have to hide your face with a drawn-out sip of coffee because you know if he catches a glimpse of your expression, he will call you out for your bald-faced lie.

He can tell anyway. “I’m not sure lying is the best way to get on the nice list.”

You do feel bad. It was your idea to get involved in the neighborhood toy drive, and despite his protests, you pleaded for Bradley to help.

“It will be fun,” you said before kissing his pouty lips. “I’ll make us coffees and you can light a fire and it’ll be so festive.”

“I’m sure it will be,” he cupped your face with his hands, “but I’m not lying when I say I can’t wrap a present to save my life.”

“You’ll do great.” You gave him another quick kiss and considered the matter over.

So, he didn’t do great. Could you really blame him? He tried to let you know beforehand, and it’s not like his military career was spent doing arts and crafts. You take another sip of your coffee before setting both mugs down and padding over to sit on the floor next to him.

“Am I off the wrapping duties?” He gives you a lopsided smile and slides his hand around your waist.

“You wish.” You reach over his lap and undo his wrapping job. “Get ready to learn a thing or two.”

He laughs when you use his own words against him, as you have throughout your entire relationship.

When you two weren’t yet dating – but still very much infatuated with each other – Bradley used pool as an excuse to get close to you, though no excuses were needed. You were putty in his hands already.

“Get ready to learn a thing or two,” he’d murmured in your ear. It was a Friday evening and The Hard Deck was packed, so he had to get close — mustache-ticking-your-ear close — so you could hear him over the rowdy crowd of sailors. And he was teaching you how to make a combination shot, so he had to wrap his arms around you so he could guide you through the motions. And you were a receptive student, so you had to lean against him so he could feel the curve of your ass — just so he knew his technique was working.

Now, nearly a year later on the rug of your living room, you slide up behind Bradley like he did that Friday night, your fingers gliding down his thick biceps towards his hands. They’re huge under yours, earning a laugh from both of you.

“Sweet girl, I’m not sure this is gonna work,” he says as you rest your chin on his shoulder. The curled ribbon from the bow in his hair tickles your check.

“Well, I know how to play pool thanks to this little trick. I’m sure I can use it to teach you how to wrap a present.”

You guide one of his hands toward the pair of scissors and another towards the pile of wrapping paper.

“Since I’m a great teacher, I’ll even let you pick which paper to use,” you say.

He lingers over the rolls for a moment, ultimately choosing a cranberry red paper with prints of cars carrying snow-dusted Christmas trees.

“Ok, now let’s roll it out. Look at me, Bradley.”

He pulls back a little so you can make complete eye contact. Even after months of dating, his warm brown eyes undo something in you, leaving you feeling like you’re brushing shoulders with the clouds. How did you ever get so lucky?

“It’s very important to measure the paper before cutting,” your voice softens as you drop the strict teacher act. “Put the Barbie at the edge of the wrapping paper, then you kinda fold up the other edge and see if it’s long enough.”

He takes a moment to soak you in before he can bring his attention back to the present. Up close, he can fully appreciate the graceful curve of your lips, the exact shade of your eyes. In the weepy, late morning sunlight, you are radiant.

The fire crackles in the background. The only other sound is your synchronous breathing.

You lean in slightly. “I don’t mean to ruin the moment, but I promised Cathy that we’d deliver the presents by 2, so you need to get moving.”

“You should boss me around more often.” He stares at you for a second longer before turning his attention back to the present.

You’re glad he turns around so he can’t witness the violent shade of red your face flushes — nearly as red as the wrapping paper.

Once the paper’s measured, you show him how to cut it with one swooshing glide of the scissors.

“It’s like I’m a professional,” he says.

“Don’t get too far ahead of yourself.” You squeeze his hands gently. “We’ve still got to tape this sucker up.”

He groans as you peel the scraps of tape off his thigh.

“How did you even do this to yourself?” You collect all the tape into one big wad. “You’re a grown man”

He shrugs. “I guess my mom was gone before she could teach me.”

At the mention of his mom, your heart melts. What you wouldn’t give to have her here for him, to walk him through this process he should have learned years ago. To spend another Christmas with her boy. You run your fingers through his sun-lightened locks. One night when you two first started dating, you sat on your porch alone. Under soft-falling moonlight, you promised Carole that you’d be there for her son; promised her that she and Goose could count on you to make sure he’d always be ok.

Something in Bradley’s face makes you think you were doing just fine on your promise. You can’t help the heat that rises to your checks when you catch him staring at you.

Then, with a mischievous smile, he swipes the tape wad from you, aims it, and launches it right at your face.

You try to get mad, to lecture him about the children who will be let down on Christmas morning without their Barbie doll, but the grin on his lips washes away any amount of anger you could dredge up. He wags his eyebrows and you can’t contain your laughter as it spills out of you and fills up the living room.

“You can’t be trusted with this dangerous weapon.” You grab the tape dispenser and wipe a tear from your eye. “I’ll rip the tape for you so you can just focus on folding.”

He kisses the crown of your head. “I’m actually trusted with dangerous weapons daily at work.”

You roll your eyes, but to his credit, Bradley is willing to learn. You gently guide him through the folds, but he picks it up pretty quick given that he doesn’t have to juggle the wrapping paper and the tape.

“That’s pretty good, if I do say so myself.” He holds up the present, admiring the sharp folds and the perfectly festive wrapping paper. “And I’ve got the perfect girl to thank.”

You dodge his incoming kiss, instead patting his cheek and standing up.

His brows knot in confusion before he realizes what you’ve gotten up to retrieve: a roll of velvety green ribbon.

You hold it up triumphantly. “One final touch.”

The absolute pain on his face steals the grin off yours.

You sink back down to the floor and wrap him tight in your arms, sliding your hand up his back to rub circles between his shoulders.

“Sweet girl,” he murmurs against your chest, “I really don’t have that in me.”

You kiss the top of his head. If Bradley draws the line here, you’re more than happy to finish the wrapping. Hell, you’d even lace his fucking shoes if it spared him the torture of tying any more bows. You are head-over-heels for Bradley Bradshaw, and you know he knows it. It’s a good thing he’s equally head-over-heels for you.

“Ok, Bradshaw, I’ll tie the bow, but I’ll need a little help.” You break away from him and begin unspooling the ribbon. “I know your mom taught you this.”

And he smiles because he knows what’s coming.

You twist the ribbon around the package, cross-crossing it over the top. You look to him, and already he’s jumping into action. He ceremoniously raises a finger and plants it perfectly on the intersection of the ribbon.

“Perfect.” You steadily finish the bow. It’s really good, you have to admit: entirely symmetrical, huge and bouncy like a cartoon.

And then Bradley is on top of you, pulling you into his lap, smushing kisses along your jaw, working his way to your lips. His kisses are hungry, but not sinfully so. You’re hungry too. Hungry to share the rest of your lives together. To wrap presents for your kids on Christmas Eve while they pretend to be asleep down the hall. To savor early Christmas mornings in matching pajamas, sipping hot chocolate while a fire sings in the hearth. Late Christmas evenings where he pulls you into his lap on the piano bench and plays your favorite carols — a little sloppily from the spiked eggnog and having to reach around you. 

“I’m not in your way?” You would ask, already knowing his answer.

“No, you are right where you need to be.”

And he would play long into the night, celebrating the fact that he gets to spend Christmas with his sweet girl. No December 26th would pass without you waking up to find you had both lost your voices.

Your phone rings, rudely barging into your domestic dreams of the future. You’re tempted to ignore it, but Bradley accepts the call and brings it to your ear, leans his forehead against yours.

“Hey, Cathy,” you say.

“Is there any chance you can get the presents here sooner?” You and Bradley can both hear how harried the toy drive organizer sounds. “Sorry to even ask, you know I appreciate you, but some paperwork got messed up and —”

“Sure thing, don’t worry about it.” You break in to spare her the breath.

“Thank you,” she says. “And bring that sailor of yours, too. I might need help loading the truck.”

You laugh. “I’ll make sure to bring him along.”

“Thank you so much, sweetie. See ya soon.”

“See you soon.” You hang up your phone and toss it on the floor.

You peck Bradley on the check.  “Ok, ready to put those new skills to good use?”

“Ready.” He smiles and runs his hands through your hair. “Ready to do anything for you.”

You scramble out of his lap because if he keeps looking at you like that, you definitely won’t get the presents to Cathy on time.

You turn on the TV and fetch your still-steaming coffees from the table. Quickly, you and Bradley settle into an easy wrapping rhythm, the hum of a carol floating out of your TV, accompanied by the silent promise of all your Christmases — and many wrapped presents — to come.

[masculinity-curse]

Monika stood before Maeve’s apartment door; a pretty small place in a less than stellar neighborhood but it’s a far cry from the slum Wool tracked her down to. If Moni listened close, she could hear some music…

(@brownhairedbookworm)

[stairain]

Headlights Flashing.

Spencer and you are rivaling street racers, and despite your deep rooted hatred for each other, with enough adrenaline, arousal, and pure aggression shooting through your veins, you find yourself at the mercy of your contender.

Warnings: Dom Spencer, cocky Spencer, mean reader and Spencer, enemies to lovers-ish, hate sex, backshots, squirting, creampie, hair pulling, car sex, public sex, speeding, endangerment of lives. Many illegal activities take place here!  

WC: 5K

You and Spencer were both street racers. The two of you hated each other, but neither of you knew why. Ever since the beginning, the two of you always found a way to belittle the other for their skills, or roll your eyes at their "slow" racing times. Now was no different, you had just finished a race against Spencer and a few other drivers, and you angrily sat in your car at the makeshift finish line. 

Spencer won, but only barely. Your engine sounds rough and your head is pounding. He pulls up next to you and rolls down his window.

”You got lucky today. If my last turn hadn't backfired, I would’ve left you a ditch.” He smirks. You scowl.

You roll your eyes and roll up your window, not wanting to talk to him. You’d like to say you were so close to winning, but you weren’t. Your performance today was less than satisfactory, and you knew he was right. You stick your middle finger up to him before your window fully closes.

You drive off, steaming with humiliation. Your anger only makes your headache worse, especially when you look in your rear view mirror and notice him tailgating you. 

You speed up. He stays right behind you.

He's mocking you. You speed up again and turn into a residential neighborhood, taking several turns to lose him before coming to a stop at the end of an out of the way street.

You groan loudly as you come to the dead end and watch as he drifts his car next to you, and parks. He rolls down his window and obnoxiously knocks on yours. You huff and albeit pissed off, you still roll down your window anyways. "What do you want, Reid?"

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your stellar driving performance. I mean really, you almost beat me!”—He says sarcastically— “I didn't realize you had it in you!” He continues to mock, but you just scowl at him. 

“Your anger isn't very becoming, you know.” He smirks again and leans back in his seat, waiting for your comeback.

"There were other racers too, Spencer. Why don't you go bother one of them instead?" Your tone is mocking as well and you plaster a fake smile on your face as you roll your eyes. He shrugs.

“They're not nearly as interesting.” He chuckles to himself. “You're much funnier, and much easier to get a rise out of.” 

He leans forward and rests his arms on the steering wheel, as if he is settling in for a show.

“What do you say we race again?”

"How flattering." You pull down your mirror and check your makeup, uninterested in talking to him. "There's no way I'm betting money against racing you, you're not worth it."

Spencer grins at you. “It's not about money this time. Just me and you. And my pride on the line if you win. You wouldn't want to hurt my pride, now would you?” His tone is oh so condescending as he waits for your reply, eyes narrowed at you.

“Of course not, it's already barely there as is." You flip up the mirror and look over to him. 

“Oh, now that's a low blow..” He laughs and his voice is just dripping with sarcasm. “You're just upset I've won every other time, aren't you? Is your ego that threatened by me?” 

His eyes flash with amusement as they land on you, daring you to react. You just take a deep breath and sigh, not believing you’re about to agree to this. 

"If I win, you leave me the fuck alone, got it?"

He smirks at you. 

“And if I win?”

You press your lips into a thin line and sigh. 

"Whatever you want."

He grins at you. His eyes are glowing with delight, as is his smile. You already regret saying that. 

“Alright. You're on. I'll even let you pick the track.”

"From here to south street near the cargo lot. First one to get to the smoke shop on Moorside wins." You turn your engine on without another word. 

He nods and leans back in his seat as starts up his engine, a rumbling sound that fills the air. Soon enough, he’s quickly pulling in front of you, and then speeding off down the road.

You shake your head, not knowing what you got yourself into. You quickly speed after him, leaving the residential area with nothing but a blur of light and the loud revving of your engine. You can see his dark purple car quickly turning corners and recklessly cutting off unassuming drivers.

He's going way too fast for your liking. He's flying down the road like a maniac, almost hitting every car he passes. You grip the wheel tighter and keep him in your sights, not wanting to let him get too far away, but also not trying to be as reckless as him. A sudden sharp turn catches up with him and he skids out, just barely managing to pull back on the road. You speed past him, and he honks at you, but you continue straight, taking any opportunity you can have to get ahead of him.

You smirk to yourself and shake your head at his clumsiness, always a flaw of his. You speed up and pull onto the highway. It was just barely past midnight, so most cars were off the roads now. You merged quickly and swiftly through what little cars there were, and looked in your rear view mirror. You squinted when you saw the flashing headlights of his car behind you, quickly approaching.

Your heart speeds up as he tails you at an alarming speed. He's gaining on you, and the distance between you two is diminishing fast. You look at your speedometer. You're driving way over the speed limit, but it doesn't matter, it never has, but especially not now. 

You’re too desperate to win. You press your foot down on the gas pedal, willing your car to go faster and faster. It was almost as if you could feel his breath on your neck, even though you were several yards apart on the road.

The sound of your engine revving and the smell of burning rubber filled the car, and it only spurred you on. You loved the feeling of this, being so free on the road, the quick pace of the car pushing your body back against the seat in the best way. You bit your lip as you pressed down harder on the gas.

You're driving faster than you have ever gone before. Your heart is pounding and your adrenaline is at an all time high. The smell of gasoline fills your nose and your hair whips around in the air. The world seems to have been stripped away, leaving only the sights and sounds of your high-speed race to occupy your senses. There's nothing but you and your car and the road. You are in control. And you're determined to win.

There's a large road sign indicating your exit, and you smoothly speed past it, quickly approaching the city, and more importantly, that goddamn smoke shop that would be your key to winning. And you can’t wait to rub it in that stupidly sexy face of his.

What?

Your face skews in confusion and slight disgust at your own thoughts, and your foot slowly lifts from the pedal. 

Spencer is right behind you. The shop isn’t in your sight, yet, but he is still dangerously close. He swerves over to your side, and his car nearly collides with yours.

“What the hell are you doing?” He shouts at you from his open window, and you can barely hear him over the whirring wind and roaring engines around you. You keep calm and keep your focus on the road, but you're shaking with nervous agitation. You still can't believe how serious this street race has become. You wonder what you were thinking, agreeing to it. 

Your distraction almost cost you your life, and your car, and you shake your head to bring you out of your trance, as you try your best to focus on the road. Spencer sees your hesitation and the distance between you and him widens as you slow down. His eyes glow with a glint of victory and he passes you without hesitation.

“Are you kidding me? You’re backing down!” He confidently mocks you and continues to drive at an insane speed toward the smoke shop. He's laughing hysterically now. You feel your face getting red with anger and embarrassment. You have to win, but how can you overcome his lead? It’s your pride here at stake. 

You huff to yourself and step on the gas harder than you ever have before, there was no way you'd win at this point, but you'd at least have to try.

Your enemy realizes what you're doing and steps on the gas as well. He's no longer laughing. His expression is one of deep concentration, his entire body rigid. You're both flooring it now, the speedometer on each car going as fast as it can go, the sound of the tires squealing and the revving of the engines creating a cacophony to accompany the rush of air from your open window. You're gaining on him, but it's still a battle. He is right in your sights and he won't let up. This is all or nothing.

The flashing lights of the shop are shining through the city, and you look over to see Spencer with a smug smile and a look plastered on his face that just screams 'I've already won'. You roll your eyes and look back to the road, driving as fast as you possibly can.

He's gloating, and that makes you want to tear him to shreds. You try to force your car to go even faster, pushing it beyond its limits. It whines and groans under the stress, but the shop is just in reach. Your mouth is dry and the sweat is dripping off your forehead, despite the air blowing in from your window. This is the moment you've been waiting for. You can do this. Just a few more seconds. You'll beat him. You'll prove you're better. You can do this.

Just as the two of you approach the parking lot of the shop, you swerve and cut him off as you turn. It's a risky move, and you're surprised you didn't end up T-boned in the middle of the road, but when you drift into the empty lot, you lean back in your seat and laugh maniacally. You're sweating, your hair is a mess, and your heart is pounding.

You did it.

Spencer pulls into the lot next to you, skidding to a stop and glaring at you with wide eyes. 

“Did you really just do that? What the fuck is wrong with you?” He exclaims. There's no more smugness in his expression now, only rage. He looks like he's about to jump out of the car and strangle you. 

“You're lucky you're alive!” He says as he steps out of his and slams the door. It takes him several seconds to process what has just happened, but once he does, he's livid. 

You scoff and step out of your car, and your legs almost give out underneath you. They were far too shaky from how much force you put on them just a few moments ago, but you manage to lean against the side of your car as you look at his disheveled form. 

"Like you care, just means you would've won. Which I know is all that matters to you." You scowl at him as his chest rises and falls from how hard he's breathing and how much rage he’s feeling.

“And we agreed if I won, you leave me the fuck alone.” 

He gives you a death stare and trudges menacingly toward you. His chest is heaving and you can tell he’s still shaking from the adrenaline flooding his system. He's close now, barely a foot away from you. There's an uncomfortable silence between the two of you, each just a moment away from letting your anger out on the other. You try to find something to say, but his intensity scares you and the words won't come. The only sound out there is your breathing, and his, and your heart pounding in your ears as your gazes are locked.

Then, he leans forward and grabs at you, pulling you into a bruising kiss. You can feel his huffs against your face as you both pant into each other's mouths. He presses you further against the door of your car, and it's getting harder to stand on your own two legs.

Your head spins and your heart is pounding, the surprise of being man handled by Spencer knocking the air out of you. He's so much taller and stronger than you and you struggle under the weight of his body. The scent of sweat and cologne and the feel of his rough clothes against your skin is all-consuming, all-distracting.

He's a predator and you're in his grasp and you can't think of anything else but him. You melt into the kiss, kissing him back with just as much intensity as he's kissing you.

As he holds the back of your head in his sweaty palms, you wrap your arms around his neck and allow yourself to be manhandled by him. It was clear all of the pent up anger from the years of rivalry and losing to each other were being poured out in the form of a passionate, hateful kiss. After years of this build-up, a part of you has always wanted this. You've never let this thought fully manifest because you've always been too prideful to admit that you even liked him. 

You've always been so driven with the need to always win and be the best that you've spent your life shutting up these thoughts as quickly as they arose, but now they're all coming back in a flood of emotion, and you can't help but kiss him violently, as if you hate him and love him all at once. Never before have you kissed someone with such intensity.

Moaning into his mouth, you pull him impossibly closer as the absolute aggression he's showing you and the adrenaline from racing fill your body and turn you on beyond belief.

He grunts in pleasure and keeps kissing you harder and harder, as if he is using you as a beacon to release all the pent up anger and hurt from years of this stupid competitive rivalry between the two of you. He breaks it, gasping for breath. After a moment he looks down at you, the anger still apparent in his eyes but his expression is softer. You can see some hint of guilt mixed in there as well. He clears his throat, before he leans in again to kiss you with more passion. You eagerly kiss him back, as if just waiting for him to do it again.

And so here the two of you are, hungrily making out with each other against your car in the empty parking lot of a smoke shop. The neon lights that scaled the entire building are casting a dangerously sexy sheen on his skin, bursts of purple and blue illuminating the furious expression on his face.

You kiss him with everything you have. The brunet pulls you close to him, his hand in your hair, the other hand on your lower back. His tongue flicks into your mouth and you grab his hips, pulling him in deeper, deeper. You've never felt anything like this before. He's like a drug, and every touch from him brings you deeper and deeper into a pleasure that is so intense it is almost painful, but in a beautiful way. You can't get enough of him, and it doesn't seem like he can't get enough of you either.

His breathing is getting heavier and heavier as he gets closer, and the only sounds in the empty parking lot are his heavy breaths and your breathy moans. 

You can't help but whine when he pulls away from the kiss, but it's short lived as he speaks to you in a low, rumbling voice, almost like a growl.

"Bend over the trunk, I don't want to hear another word out of you." You shiver at his words and want to protest that you're in public, but he was frightening you beyond belief at this moment, and you didn't want to figure out what would happen if you refused.

With a hesitant nod, you quickly round your car until you're bent over the trunk, back arched and ass up, just like he had told you to. The cold metal trunk presses against your body, making you shiver as you feel yourself blushing at the humiliation of the whole situation.

Your dignity is being stripped away from you, but you feel so desperate for his touch that you couldn't care less. You don't know what's coming next, but you can't help but find the excitement of the situation to be the greatest turn on this side of heaven. You are fully under his control now.

A soft moan escapes your lips when you feel his presence behind you, and you resist the urge to push back against him when you feel the thick bulge in his pants pushing against your ass. Biting your lip, you look back at him to see what he's doing. 

Spencer is looking down on you, his eyes wide with a wild look in them as he observes the curve and arch of your body. He's breathing heavily and his hands are shaking, as if he is trying to keep his composure, but some part of him is too overcome by desire and fury to resist taking you.

It's a dangerous kind of intensity that brings out another, very primal side of him. He's almost predatory in this state, and you can see how hungry he is for you. Like an animal stalking its prey, he slowly runs his hands up and down your body, making you shake. 

Suddenly, you feel his fingers in the waistband of your pants, and freeze as he begins to pull them down your hips. The suddenness of it makes you jump, and your mind goes blank. You're completely unprepared for what comes next and for a moment you can't think or say a word. For the first time, he has you right where he wants you, and that thought alone is both terrifying and exhilarating in equal parts. He’s taking control here, and you both seem to know it.

You can tell he's desperate. Desire and disdain running through his veins so strong it might as well be his own blood. The cold night air hits your exposed ass, and you can't help but moan at how exposed for him you are. He pulls your jeans down to your knees, and you can practically feel the smirk on his face. 

“Lucky car seat, you have.” 

God, you hated him. 

Your cheeks are beet red as you try to turn away from him in a feeble attempt to retain some bit of dignity. You couldn't be more exposed to him than you are right now and it terrified you, but your fear is mixed with anticipation and arousal, and your curiosity about what will come next is almost overwhelming everything else right now. You feel the breeze on your skin, chilling you but sending waves of excitement through your body. You're exposed and vulnerable beyond your wildest dreams.

Your breath hitches when you hear the hardware of his belt being jostled, and when you look back around at him you see he's skillfully thumbing off the leather. This was really fucking happening. The belt makes a loud clacking noise as it hits the pavement and you can't tear your gaze away from him. 

Your eyes are riveted on him, trying to read his expression. He seems to be enjoying this, getting pleasure from your fear, and degrading you for his own sake and pride. He’s so domineering in this moment, his expression is wild, almost feral, like that of an animal about to strike. 

Spencer was taking off his pants now. As he was pulling them down, they got stuck on his bulge, and he had to tug a little harder to get them down. Before you can stop it, a breathless moan falls from your mouth at the sight. 

You can't find the words to say, but your moan is enough to betray your feelings right now. Your body has taken over, and your heart is racing. Even without you showing it, he can tell how you’re feeling, and it gives him a look of complete control. You're his. That's all that matters to him. And he's going to claim you as his right now, just like he's claimed everything else in his life, and there's nothing you can do to stop him. 

Always so cocky, he was. It was what made you hate him so much, but then again, did you really hate him? 

Yes. 

But none of that mattered as he pulled down his pants and underwear to his thighs, leaving him just exposed as you were. Despite your previously dry mouth, you felt a flood of drool pool in your mouth at the sight of his firm cock, slightly swaying behind you as the rough calloused skin of his fingers reaches out to pull down your panties. 

And yet, the more you look at him, the more you hate him, and you know in some small, twisted way, he loves that. He loves the power he has over you. He loves how agitated he can make you feel, after all, he’s been practicing for so many years.

You feel your cunt clenching as he gently drags the fabric of your underwear down to your knees, joining your pants. He wets his lips with his tongue as he stares at the damp spot pooling in the crotch of them. The cool air against you was unforgiving, sending shudders up your spine when the wetness of your arousal turned freezing in the wind. 

“It’s a shame you hate me so much,”—His voice is low as he grabs the base of his cock, running the thick head up and down your dripping folds.— “You’re so gorgeous, would love to take you on a date one day..” 

That arrogant tone in his voice was ever so present still, and yet you still couldn’t stop the blush creeping on your cheeks at the way he complimented you. 

“Unless you don’t hate me. You know, I’ve always had a feeling that maybe it wasn’t hatred that made you feel this way towards me, always thought it was between jealousy and infatuation..” 

And with a swift stretch of your pussy, he slides his dick between your walls, making your body lurch forward and your lips part in a whimper. You can feel his pelvis pushing into the plushy flesh of your ass. 

“And I know your ego is far too inflated to admit it was jealousy..” He bends over your body as well as he can, and huskily whispers in your ear.

You wanted to scream at him, curse him out, do whatever you could to show him how much you hated him, but with his cock buried so deep inside of you..

Any thought of malice or violence towards him disintegrates once he snaps his hips so harshly against you. Your arms give out underneath you and you try to desperately grasp onto something, but all that surrounded you was the cold metal of your car, and the thick glass of your windows that was quickly fogging up. 

The drenched folds of your pussy were being rubbed raw with every rough pass of his dick, and you could already feel the ache settling into your body. Your legs were lifted in the air, and you thank god for that. If he had you standing up right now, you’d no doubt fall straight onto the pavement. 

A strong hand suddenly reaches out and grabs a fistful of your hair, making you groan in pain as your head is forced back and he only uses it as a handle bar to fuck into you harder. 

“This is what you wanted all al-along.. Isn’t it?” 

Spencer’s stupid voice rang in your ears again, words closely accompanied by moans and sighs of his own. He throws his head back and looks up at the night air, the stars in the sky watching the two of you. You felt so good squeezed around him, that if he closed his eyes he would’ve no doubt seen a starry night anyways. 

You were so warm and wet around him, it was intoxicating, he hated you even more for keeping that perfect pussy of yours from him all these years. 

It’s a miracle no other cars are on the road tonight, it’s just the two of you. But it’s humiliating even thinking about the idea of someone catching you. They’d drive by and their necks would snap at the sight of you bent over your car as your “worst enemy” is plowing into you from behind like it’s his job.

And the worst part of all would be caught enjoying it. You look positively wrecked, hair messy as it’s being pulled by Spencer, your skin dripping with sweat and leaving steamy marks against the surface of your car. 

Everyone knew the two of you ‘hated’ each other, and if anyone saw, you know you would never hear the end of it.

But nothing else but how he pummeled into you from behind, making your ass and hips jiggle with each thrust, mattered in this moment. Strained moans force their way out of your lips, and you could see the way your hot breath fogged in the cold air. 

“Sp-Spence..”

You whimpered out, feeling the band in your pelvis and cervix stretch farther and farther with each brutal hump he forces into you. Spencer only pulls your hair harder at his words, and his thrusts only become more careless when you finally moan his name. He’s only ever heard it coated in poison and hatred, but now, you were just begging him to claim you as his. 

“I know.. I know..”

He pathetically whimpers out himself, and the desperate tone in his voice only makes you clench around him tighter, causing more of those irresistible moans to cascade out of his mouth. 

There’s no way you’re lasting any longer than now, and he can feel your release approaching quicker and quicker with each thrust to your stretched hole and every beat he deals to your abused spot. Your folds are fluttering around him, and it almost makes him double over in pleasure.

As your orgasm wrecks through you, your eyes roll back into their sockets, your jaw practically unhinges in an ear shattering moan, and your cunt is splashing your release back onto him, drenching his hips, cock, and pants. 

“Fucking Christ..” 

You’re blabbering out incoherent words as you can feel your cum soaking down your thighs and dripping off your vehicle, as if you were giving it a car wash.  

Spencer’s a mess behind you, the wet squealing of your arousal splashing out of your pussy and spilling around his cock was proven far too much for him to even think to handle. He lets go of your hair and allows you to collapse against the car. He’s then gripping your hips so hard you can feel his fingers pressing into your stomach. 

Using your pliant body as leverage to be his cocksleeve, he starts thrusting into you at a primal pace. He’s fucking your own cum out of you, and just mere seconds later, he’s dumping his own release right into your drenched hole. 

With an animalistic groan, he deals one final blow into you and you can feel the thickness and warmth of his cum taking over your insides, and it makes your head spin in arousal. And even though the both of you had finished, he doesn't want to pull out, he knows he’s holding back a floodgate of spend. 

You’re breathlessly panting as your cheek is pressed onto the glass of the car. You let out a soft moan through parted lips as you finally feel him start to pull out, and when he does, you can hear the moan of disbelief and fascination. 

As he’s pulling himself out of you inch by inch, more and more of your squirt, and his cum, gush around him, and drip down your legs. The sight makes him dizzy, and he can already feel himself hardening again just from watching the way you’re leaking a mixture of your releases. 

Once he’s out of you, he stuffs himself back inside his drenched pants, and huffs in amusement at the sight. You’re still bent over the trunk, and when he’s somewhat composed and can feel his own legs again, he walks over to where your head is, and leans against the side of your car. He’s got his arms crossed and one leg over the other, looking around the empty city as if he didn’t just fuck the shit out of you.  

A few minutes go, the soft pants of heavy breathing and the embarrassingly loud noises of your slick dripping from your car to the pavement is all that can be heard. You manage to swallow, and turn your head to face his back. You sound breathless as you speak, and your throat is absolutely wrecked, but you still manage to cockily choke out your words.

“So, what about that date, Reid?” 

His head drops in a soft laugh, and he turns his head to the side to meet your hooded eyes.

“Race you there?” 

[shelbycragg]

Golden sun on bright flowers, or shared smiles in the dark. Two moods, one listing! The choice is yours. The brass-and-enamel charms have been UV lacquered by Brian to keep them shiny, and sensitive-skin safe! Rainbow steel chain makes these necklaces variable in length from around 18-21 inches.

Limited in stock, so get them while you can! Only at your local Stellar Neighborhood! ⭐

[katuschka]

Out On The Tiles – Prologue

Jake Kiszka x Chris Turpin Josh Kiszka x Chris Turpin

Yaaay, my first AU! Welcome to the 70s rock&roll hell, baby...

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings – this story will contain: substance abuse, infidelity, debauchery, same sex smut, hetero smut, rough sex, and as always, an unhealthy dose of heavy emotions and feelings

Special thanks to: @thewritingbeforesunrise and her genius, twisted mind that helped me form this story in my own sick brain.

If you like the story and want to get notifications, you can join the Taglist.

AND if you already received the notif, but you're not interested in this particular story, just send me a message.

I'm just a simple guy, I live from day to day A ray of sunshine melts my frown and blows my blues away There's nothing more that I can say but on a day like today I pass the time away and walk a quiet mile with you All I need from you is all your love All you got to give to me is all your love

Prologue

1994 was an eventful year for the Kiszka twins. After years of unsuccessful attempts to launch respectful solo projects they could build upon after the infamous breakup of their band, they had been finally labelled as “has-beens of rock” when grunge hit the mainstream, only to rise up again like a phoenix from the dust of their once stellar career. 

Josh and Jake, THE ultimate enfants terrible of the 70s rock&roll music scene. Angel-faced devils, as they were called. 

It was no longer true, but it kept haunting them anyway. How could it not.

Born to free-thinking parents who never made it to Frisco with the other beatniks, but instead decided to “settle down” in a small town in Michigan after their mother became pregnant, they were raised – together with their younger brother Samuel – in what you could call a “respectful neighborhood”. But everything was different behind the closed doors, as their parents never grew out of love for art, music and literature. 

Their mother was not only a wonderful and respected teacher, but she could also bake devilishly good sweet treats, so the neighbors somehow “tolerated” the fact that she often indulged in painting “weird pictures.” 

Their father played the piano in church on Sundays, while their own house was filled with the sound of delta blues, bebop and rockabilly on Friday nights. 

Even as young kids, they never had to hide their passion for the new music made by Elvis and Chuck and Little Richard. In fact, their father encouraged it, together with their attempts to learn how to play and write their own stuff. Their longing to create was inextinguishable, partly inherited and wholeheartedly shared, so by mid sixties, they were already in a band. Their band, which they founded together with Sam’s friend, a talented percussionist from the school orchestra. And a cool kid, too. 

After the wave of new British bands hit the US coast like a tsunami, invading the music scene as well as their own ears, they finally found their own sound and everything snowballed pretty quickly during 1968 and 1969. They got signed, they hit the road and their career literally exploded! Air Javelin were on their way to become one of the most influential bands in rock&roll history. 

Fast forward back to 1994, they now found themselves sitting next to David Letterman, eager and ready to discuss their new mutual music project. 

It was good. In fact, it was great, already receiving many well-deserved accolades and praises from the very same people and magazines who used to shit on their music more than two decades ago. 

The only problem being that they were probably the only people who were eager and ready to discuss it at the moment. 

Josh’s recent coming-out was already old news and the questions that focused on that grew stale pretty quickly. It was the 90s after all, and things were getting better slowly but steadily. If anything, it made the message he managed to lace their new music with even more acute and sharp. The first single was a huge success not only among their old fans; it hit the charts with nearly the same force their old hits once did. 

Unfortunately, two weeks after the long-awaited release of the whole album, a book appeared on shelves of bookstores all across the country, and turned into a sensation almost overnight. 

Written by their former road manager Robert Mole, it was packed with juicy and scandalous stories from their heyday. The timing was deliberate. Robert just wanted a piece of the freshly baked cake, and so did the publisher. 

A lot of it had already been somewhat known, and perceived as public secrets for years and years. People may not have known all the details Robert decided to disclose, but it shocked no one. Those were the stories and anecdotes from a long-gone era. EVERYONE was already familiar with the infamous octopus story anyway, even though no one knew what really happened that day. That was the beauty of it. And as Jake already said in another interview, Robert had spent most of those days either drunk or high, often both, so a lot of the shit mentioned in that book was simply made up or blown out of proportion.

So, when Letterman asked about the contents of the book again, Jake replied nonchalantly: “Let’s put it this way, David. I can’t remember half of it, and neither can he!”

The audience laughed, but the host did not give up. 

There was one more story, one that they had managed to keep hidden, but which kept haunting them because it was extremely and painfully personal. Like a cold sore, it would never go away. It was also the reason why Sam still refused to speak with either of them.

They used to like Robert; he was once regarded and treated almost as a sixth member of the group. However, the fact that he decided to include this in the book turned him into an unscrupulous piece of shit in their eyes. 

Back in the day, when their heads were so big it was a wonder that they didn’t float above their shared stage, they thought no one could possibly push them out of their pedestal. But new bands appeared, some of them equally good. Bands such as the British wonder Mellow Yellow, with their charismatic, blonde frontman…

“Alright, alright,” Letterman raised his voice before the applause died down completely. “But I’m sure EVERYONE wants to know the truth behind those accusations that the real reason why Air Javelin split up was the affair you BOTH had with the late Chris Turpin.”

@thewritingbeforesunrise @fleet-of-fiction @writingcold @lvnterninthenight @its-interesting-van-kleep   @takenbythemadness   @edgingthedarkness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @josh-iamyour-mama @lyndz2names @wetkleenex-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf @cheersdannyx2 @fleetingjake @lizzys-sunflower @emojakekiszka @gvfmarge @Dayumclarizzel @lipstickitty @clownstarr @gretasfallingsky @musicislove3389 @i-love-gvf @psychedelectable @allof--mylove @sacredsparrow

[apod]

2024 August 4

Gaia: Here Comes the Sun Credit: Galaxy Illustration: N. Risinger (skysurvey.org); Star Data: Gaia Mission, ESA, A. S. Sellés (U. Heidelberg) et al.

Explanation: What would it look like to return home from outside our galaxy? Although designed to answer greater questions, data from ESA's robotic Gaia mission is helping to provide a uniquely modern perspective on humanity's place in the universe. Gaia orbits the Sun near the Earth and resolves stars' positions so precisely that it can determine a slight shift from its changing vantage point over the course of a year, a shift that is proportionately smaller for more distant stars -- and so determines distance. In the first sequence of the video, an illustration of the Milky Way is shown that soon resolves into a three-dimensional visualization of Gaia star data. A few notable stars are labelled with their common names, while others stars are labelled with numbers from a Gaia catalog. Eventually, the viewer arrives in our stellar neighborhood where many stars were tracked by Gaia, and soon at our home star Sol, the Sun. At the video's end, the reflective glow of Sol's third planet becomes visible: Earth.

∞ Source: apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap240804.html

[morbidology]

Esmie Tseng, a 16-year-old honor student from Overland Park, Kansas, presented a seemingly typical teenage persona through her blog, filled with sarcasm and a love for music. However, behind this facade, she provided a darker glimpse into her challenging home life with Chinese immigrant parents, Shu Yi Zhang and Tao Tseng, who imposed unattainable expectations on her.

Despite being an accomplished piano player, Esmie faced extreme pressure from her parents, who threatened to sell her piano if she didn't win a competition and grounded her for scoring 96% on a test. Their reaction to a few B's in an otherwise stellar report card even led to threats of moving to another state. Disturbingly, they subjected her to humiliating punishments, such as forcing her to stand naked in the corner when she disappointed them.

Moreover, her parents frequently shifted blame onto Esmie for their own problems. Following her mother's job loss, Esmie was unjustly accused, with her mother leaving notes on her computer expressing shame and labeling her lazy and a disappointment. Even Esmie's achievements, like numerous math medals, were dismissed by her parents as something not to be proud of, claiming she lacked intelligence.

On August 19, 2005, Esmie reached a breaking point in their quiet Blue Valley neighborhood home. In a tragic turn of events, she stabbed her mother to death in a brutal incident that unfolded across several rooms. Esmie later pleaded guilty to voluntary manslaughter and received an eight-year prison sentence. After her parole in 2012, Esmie redirected her life, becoming involved with Missourians for Alternatives to the Death Penalty.

[mysticstronomy]

IS THE MILKY WAY MOVING??

Blog#351

Wednesday, November 22nd, 2023

Welcome back,

As we delve deeper into the cosmic dance of celestial bodies, the mind-boggling journey continues. Picture this: as Earth spins on its axis at approximately a thousand miles per hour, and hurtles through space in orbit around the Sun at a mind-bending 67,000 miles per hour, we find ourselves part of a much grander performance within the Milky Way.

The Milky Way, our spiral-shaped home in the universe, is not simply a static backdrop. No, it's a galactic city in motion. Together with the Sun and the entire solar system, we form a celestial cavalcade, orbiting the center of the Milky Way at a staggering 140 miles per second. It's a cosmic waltz, and despite the breakneck speed, a full orbit takes around 200 million years, emphasizing the sheer vastness of our stellar neighborhood.

But wait, there's more. The Milky Way, in all its splendor, is not stationary either. It's on the move through the cosmic seas of intergalactic space. Our galaxy is part of the Local Group, a gathering of galaxies on a journey toward the center of our cluster at a comparatively leisurely 25 miles per second.

If the sheer scale of our local cosmic voyage hasn't left you dizzy, brace yourself for the final leg of our astronomical adventure.

Not only are we spinning, orbiting, and cruising through the Milky Way, but we, along with our cosmic companions in the Local Group, are hurtling at a jaw-dropping 375 miles per second toward the Virgo Cluster. This colossal collection of galaxies, situated a mind-blowing 45 million light-years away, adds an astonishing layer to our celestial expedition.

In the grand tapestry of the cosmos, our earthly existence is a mesmerizing part of an intricate, ever-changing cosmic ballet. The speeds and scales involved defy our everyday perceptions, inviting us to contemplate the awe-inspiring wonders of the universe in which we reside.

Originally published on https://stardate.org

COMING UP!!

(Saturday, November 25th, 2023)

"WHAT IS THE BLOCK UNIVERSE THEORY??"