#the more i look at this the more i can feel the liminality of public transit

[snackboyz]

We Played Hide And Seek Across Japan - Episode 5 (1/?)

"I was just sitting, feeling frustrated and sad, for like two hours on the train at that point"

[starwrighter]

1/?? Halloween prompt

I’ve got brain rot for creepy Deadserious content but only when it’s only seen as creepy by outsiders. (I know I’m writing a fic with a similar plot but it’s different I swear! Also my grammar is shit because I’m getting dental work done tomorrow and I’m nervous) Tw for stalker behavior

So Damian has a crush on Danny and immediately goes about acting on these feelings much to onlookers horror. Danny is swooning because someone made the effort to do a background check on him. Danny thinks Damian doing this is really smart because, he could be a serial killer for ancients sake why would you risk that? Others say this is a horrible invasion of privacy.

Damian not realizing he's being creepy (being liminal and being an ex assassin, turned vigilante wasn't doing him any favors) Plus Danny also not realizing it's creepy unless you relay Damian behavior towards him with different names.

Damian's just being a textbook stalker, breaking into his house and shit and Danny's all like "awwww he likes me" because this is just normal ghostly courting rituals! His dormroom isn't his lair so Damian breaking in doesn't feel like he's violating any sort of boundary. To him it's like a friend showing up at the coffee shop you work at to say hi.

Danny's had stalkers before, he's very cautious of his behavior to insure he never stalked anyone. Being stalked back in Amity was a horrific experience for him. From cameras in the locker rooms at school (wes) to cameras in his bathroom and bedroom at home (Vlad)! He couldn't feel safe anywhere! To Danny Damian's not a stalker, he's his protector. Nobody seems to understand when he tries to explain this though they just look at him like he's lost his mind.

Damian’s not subtle at all and Danny’s kicking his feet like a lovesick school girl who found out her crush likes her back. Overall it’s super cute from their points of view Damian’s planning an official confession to ask him on a date while Danny’s trying to figure out if Damian actually likes him or is just being nice. They’re just doing normal couple things but people just jump and attack Damian’s character while painting Danny as some kind of brainwashed victim.

The thing is… Danny’s become very good at appearing normal while Damian refuses to pretend to be a bumbling idiot like the rest of his family. He also refuses to dull down his personality for anything other than secret identity reasons. For these reasons since their relationship had become public, Damian had been painted by the media as a creepy possessive boyfriend who threatened Danny into a relationship. This infuriates Danny, the only one doing any kind of possession is him god damn it!

They want to be around each other all the time and that’s normal behavior for ghost/liminal couples! They live much longer than regular humans do they’re like elves, their perceptions of time are messed up. They still spend time apart they still have hobbies and an independent life, people just get hung up on the amount of time they do spend together. It’s normal behavior for them to know mountains of information about each others interests to the point they almost know more than each other. It’s normal to know each other’s schedules and background check the people they associate with. (The realms are very dangerous with shapeshifters and manipulators like spectra and Desiree who can ruin your afterlife in a matter of minutes) Their relationship is creepy to those who haven’t gone to extremes to survive.

Damian has taken to ignoring the reputation press has given him. He’s dealt with paparazzi and tabloids before it’s just frustrating to deal with. It’s when people start accusing him of hurting his beloved that really pisses him off.

(Bonus if Danny’s the one frothing at the mouth to maul a reporter while they try to paint him as a poor innocent victim)

I’mma end the prompt with this so everyone understands why Damian specifically being targeted by press. The more liminal you are the more creepy/uncanny you appear to other people and the more effort you have to put in to hide it. It’s why the bats are more believed to be Eldritch creatures than actual humans in suits. Surprisingly becoming a Halfa completely changes this effect to do the complete opposite. It’s easier for the human brain to look at a halfa and think “Innocent or normal,” Vlad and Danny were morons when it came to actually hiding their identity’s it was only their statuses as halfa’s that prevented people from comprehending them being anything other than normal.

In short Damian’s too dead to be perceived as normal while Danny’s too alive to be perceived as anything other than normal.

[lady-phasma]

Fangtober Day 4 - Bondage

Dom!Armand x fem!reader (vampire)

Summary: Reader is a new addition to the Theater and Maître takes a particular interest in her and decides to show her the ropes take her to a private flat for a session, 3.3k words.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, it started out as bondage fluff but then turned into smut, tiny bit of blood play, unprotected sex but vampire sex so not risky.

a/n: Thank you so much to the moot who suggested actor vamp!reader new to the coven. However, I struggled with this one for a while - I finally just powered through it and here it is. fem!reader but reader not described.

So far the initiations and manual labor with the theater hadn’t been so bad. You slogged through your nights, cleaning the rows after the filthy humans left, helping with disposal after performances, whatever was needed. And you were rewarded with pre-dawn camaraderie, as you watched and listed to the elder vampires tell stories, rehearse, or just chat. Occasionally there were nights out among humans. The first few weeks had felt infinitely long, but now you had begun to adjust to a routine.

You began to nurture new and tentative friendships with Celeste and Estelle and even Sam. Even Santiago wasn’t always a cunt to you. As you had settled into the coven you had begun to notice Maître more and more. His eyes missed nothing. Constantly alert, constantly appraising, Armand watched his new addition. You felt an attraction to him that wasn’t there at first. You had been a little intimidated by Maître at the start of your tutelage. but now you wondered what exactly he was thinking about. Maybe it was all in your head.

As you swept the auditorium floor tonight you listened to the coven chatter and almost longed to join in. However, there was a small part of you that was glad to be alone with your chores. You didn’t feel like being seen this evening. Disappearing into the background suited you just fine. You were nearly finished, brushing the trash into the bin, when you heard footsteps behind you.

“Maître,” you bowed as soon as you turned to face him. Armand took a step toward you, slightly entering your personal space.

“Good evening, puce,” he let the words slide off his tongue, emphasizing your station. “Are you almost finished with your duties?”

“Yes, Sir,” you replied happily, almost but not quite looking into his eyes. “I only need to empty this.” You gestured to your trash can.

“Take it to the incinerator then meet me in the lobby. Don’t dally.” Armand left before you could reply.

You dusted off your clothes and ran a hand over your hair, smoothing it down, while you went to the lobby.

“Maître,” you greeted Armand as you entered.

“Walk with me.” He held the door open, allowing you to exit first. You stepped into the cool Autumn air of the city. Halos of mist hung around the street lamps as the evening’s rain slowly evaporated from the pavement. The emptying street had a quality that only late night city streets have, a liminal feeling left behind after the humans were nearly all tucked into their beds.

“Come,” Armand commanded from beside you. You walked in silence, waiting on him to explain or elucidate, but he did not. Not for many blocks. It wasn’t long before you had left the arrondissement and crossed the Seine. Vampire speed, even slowed for public viewing, was still surprisingly fast to you.

“I thought we could go somewhere with more privacy. I have a flat nearby,” he offered, apropos of nothing. He lit a cigarette, offered you one, and smoked for the rest of the walk. He dropped the butt on the pavement and ground it out with the toe of his show before opening the door to the apartment building.

You followed Armand through the doors and up the three flights of stairs to the flat. When you entered and Armand had locked the door behind you, a fire blazed in the fireplace. He took off his coat and hung it on a rack by the door. He tucked his hands in his pockets as he entered the small room. It was modest, a studio with a closet-sized bathroom in one corner, a table in the kitchen area, and a full size bed taking up much more space than the traditional twin bed these apartments usually housed. The only places to sit with the table or bed so you stood, waiting.

Armand strode to the fireplace and made a show of warming his hands over the fire. At first he didn’t turn to look at you when he spoke. You watched his face, lit by the fire, nearly mesmerized by the yellow and orange light in his hair.

“You are no doubt wondering why I brought you here tonight. You show potential, perhaps not to be center stage any time soon, but maybe one day. But you have something…” His voice trailed off as he turned to you and moved to stand directly in front of you. He lightly stroked your cheek.

“Interesting,” he murmured to himself as he appraised you. “You trust me as your Maître, yes?”

“Of course, Maître,” you nodded.

“So if I ask you to do something you would do it without question?” His nails ran down the side of your neck to your shirt collar.

“Yes, Maître.” You didn’t nod this time, something in his face had shifted and a nod felt too unserious.

“Well, puce, if I ask you to do something tonight that you find objectionable, simply say the word ‘aubergine’ and you won’t have to do it.” He smiled gently at the befuddled look on your face as he began to unbutton your blouse. “You can remember that word?”

“Yes, Maître.”

“Perfect.” He took his time opening your shirt while your heart hammered in your chest. You knew he could hear it and it would have embarrassed you, yet… Yet it seemed as if this wasn’t new to him at all.

Armand slipped your blouse off your shoulders. Then he began to work on the buttons of your slacks. You weren’t sure why you were doing this. It wasn’t entirely because he was your Maître. That was certainly part of it, but it felt like a very small part. You mostly felt like you would do anything for this ethereal creature. His hands moved deftly and barely touched your skin as he slid your pants to the floor. You stepped out of the pile of clothing without being told to. You stood still as Armand picked up the shirt and slacks and laid them over the back of a kitchen chair. You felt self-conscious standing in your undergarments, but Armand didn’t look at you in a way that made you uncomfortable. He led you to the bed and directed you to sit.

“You should know, this isn’t about the theater, darling,” he said. “This… is for my own enjoyment.”

You watched him with trepidation and excitement as he opened a drawer in the wardrobe and removed something. It looked like silk cord or rope and your heart raced in your chest again. He laid the bundle of cord on the bed and stepped next to you. He tilted your face up toward his with the lightest pressure of his fingertips.

“Lay down for me,” Armand whispered. You did so. Armand slowly began to unbutton his shirt, then placed it on the kitchen chair as well. He untied and toed off his shoes, placed them neatly beneath the chair, and walked to the bed in in his pants and socks. His movements were maddeningly slow as your mind raced with the possibilities. He untied the bundle of cord and it glistened in the dim light, it looked soft, but strong. He knelt on the bed near your feet as he spoke.

“Bend your knees, press your heels to your rear,” he instructed. You felt your face go hot, a very human response, but you did as you were told. He wrapped the cord around your thigh, then your shin, and tied your leg in a bent position. The cord was silky-smooth against your skin, but the knots were tight. Then he repeated the process on your other leg. You were exposed and vulnerable like this, even with your undergarments still on. You could have easily broken the bonds using your weak, fledgeling strength, but this was far more interesting. Armand took the remaining lengths of cord and moved them to your side.

“Hands above your head, palms together.” You pressed your hands together above your head. He leaned forward, between your legs, and bound your wrists together. Every sensation was more intense now: the fabric of his trousers rough against your inner thighs, the drag of his fingers over your camisole, grazing your hard nipples. He stood up and your eyes followed him as he walked to the table and sat in the empty chair. He tapped a cigarette from his pack, lit it, and smoked. He didn’t rush. You tried not to let your thoughts show on your face, but you knew you failed. Your brow was furrowed as you waited on him. The cords dug into your skin even though you had barely moved at all. Your normally shallow and slow vampire breathing sped up. Your cunt throbbed.

After an eternity, Armand stood and approached the bed. He trailed his fingers down one of your knees, down your shin to where the cord crossed your leg. You shivered. He moved to kneel on the bed, between your legs again. Slowly he slid a hand up your belly, under your camisole. His fingertips brushed against the undersides of your breasts. You gasped at his touch. As he moved his hand back down, he used both to gently press your thighs apart. Even that small movement caused the cord to shift against your skin. You sucked air sharply between your teeth. He let his fingers slide down the insides of your thighs and gently touched you over your panties. You could feel your wetness against the fabric and moaned. You tried to lift your hips to his touch, but it was nearly impossible in this position. The cords seemed to tighten as your legs shifted. You moaned as he pulled his fingers away, craving more of him.

Armand didn’t make you wait long. His long fingers slid up your buttocks to where the cord held you, then moved his hands up your hips. He leaned forward, almost hovering above you. He dipped his head and brushed his lips against your nipple through the thin fabric. He licked gently, leaving a damp spot above the hard point of your nipple. You involuntarily arched your back to get closer to his mouth and whined when your bonds prevented it.

“Maître, please,” you begged.

“Please what?” Armand quipped back, but his tone was patient.

“More please, Maître,” the sound of your voice was almost pathetic to your own ears, but you didn’t care. You watched him through half-closed eyes as he rubbed his hands gently up and down your sides. His thumbs occasionally grazing a nipple. He slid your camisole up over your breasts and sucked one of your nipples between his teeth. You could have cried out from the shock, but the pressure was so light that you could only pant. You still needed more. You wanted to touch him, run your fingers through his dark curls, down his neck, press yourself into his mouth.

Before you could beg again he sucked harder on your nipple and pressed his hips between your legs. You made an inhuman sound as the front of his pants rubbed against your panties and your sensitive lips. He sucked and licked your nipple with increased focus, getting caught up in the sensations and grinding his hips in slow circles. The pressure of his cock against you was a momentary relief. Then he pulled back.

“So needy,” Armand growled as he kissed down your stomach. He rose up to look at you as his fingers delved under the edge of your panties at the crease of your hips. Slowly, teasingly, he moved your panties to the side. He trailed his finger over you aching, swollen cunt, dipping just into your folds before leaving you wanting more.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered as he looked into your heavily-lidded eyes. “So well for me.”

“Yes, Maître,” was all you could think to say, the words most likely inaudible to a human, but he heard.

Armand continued to hold your panties aside as he leaned down and kissed just above your slit. He flicked his tongue over your clit and you twitched, moaning and whining. He smiled and licked harder, his tongue sliding between your lips. He moaned and the vibration sent chills up your spine. He teased you, not offering you any satisfaction, over your clit, down to your entrance, and back up. You wanted to beg and plead, but tried to bite back the words. Whimpering moans escaped your mouth, incoherent sounds, as you shifted and pulled against the restraints. You made no effort to break free. You could have, but the need for him to touch you, to keep doing this, was nearly overwhelming.

When Armand sat up he let go of your panties and began to unbutton his pants. You groaned louder than you intended. The thought that he would reward you, give you what you craved, flew through your mind.

“Yes, a small reward for such good behavior,” he grinned. “Perhaps I’ll even give you a release.” He slid his pants and boxers off his hips. You stared unabashedly. He was gorgeous. His dark hair caught the low light of the room, his chest rippled as he moved his pants further down, the muscles of his stomach flexing tautly. He stroked his cock lightly as he moved closer to you. Your legs strained against the cord. You watched him watch as he lined up and pressed his cock against you. He looked up and met your gaze. Yes? he asked silently. You nodded. When he slid into you it felt as if all of your bonds tightened. Your hands itched to reach for him, but you kept them above your head. Your thighs and shins seemed to press against the cord as you widened your legs to make room for his hips.

“God,” he moaned as he sank all the way into you. He steadied himself with a hand on each of your knees as he began slow, long strokes. Every time he pressed into you, the cords binding you shifted and dug a little harder. His eyes nearly closed as he increased his pace, hands sliding down to grip your thighs, then hips. The combination of sensations was exquisite. Every movement, every thrust, intensified by your inability to move.

Armand moaned softly as he slid into you over and over. His eyes flicked between your face and watching himself disappear into your cunt. His fingers tightened on your hips slightly as he moved faster. You whimpered as you grew even more desperate to touch him. Just my hands, you thought. Armand looked up at you with a nearly compassionate expression and leaned forward. You lifted your hands, still bound, and ran your fingers through his hair. The new contact combined with the forward shift of his hips drew a groan from your throat. As you stroked his hair, he almost seemed to purr. His sounds were soft and deep. He kissed your neck and collarbone as he pounded into you.

The mingling of your voices, your need, filled the small apartment. You grazed your nails against Armand’s scalp. He moaned and cursed against your skin. You clenched tight around him, so close, so desperate. You tried rolling your hips again, despite your bonds, this time disregarding the pain. You continued to ignore the part of your mind that insisted you could break them and be free. He wanted this, needed this, and you wanted to give it to him.

“Oh Maître,” you whined into his dark curls. You felt a small shudder pass over his body and continued. “You feel so good. Harder. Please.” Your words came out as breathy whispers, a pleading note in your voice.

Armand shifted his weight to one hand on the bed and slid the other up behind your shoulder. He pulled you down onto his cock as he thrust up and you cried out. He lifted his head to look at you and you saw that he was almost smirking. Hearing you beg was exactly what he wanted. He licked his lips and leaned down, kissing your hungrily. His hips slammed into yours and you moaned and whined into his mouth. Lips and tongues and fangs collided. You tasted your own blood in your mouth and arched your back. Armand sucked at the wound on your bottom lip, his movements becoming slightly erratic. You tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled back, gasping.

“Please Maître,” you looked into his eyes. “I want you to come.” He nearly smiled before kissing you again, licking the remaining blood from your already-healed lip. You barely noticed when he freed your wrists, his movements were so quick, and before the cord had slid off he muttered against your mouth.

“Touch yourself, puce, now.” Armand’s command alone could almost have been enough to bring your climax. You groaned as you slid your hand between your bodies. You looked at his face as you circled your clit, watching his reaction to how you tightened around him. He closed his eyes in the most beautiful expression of peace and pleasure. His hips began to stutter just a bit and you increased the pressure of your fingers as you brought yourself closer. You both groaned and panted as your climaxes neared. You closed your eyes and inhaled as you focused on his body above you, the way he moved inside you, the way his balls hit your ass with each thrust, the way you squeezed your thighs against his hips, the way his breath was hot on your skin. Your orgasm seemed to tense in all your muscles, starting everywhere at once, then it rushed over you. Your thighs shook. Your hand slowed as your arms trembled.

Armand nearly growled into your ear as you came around him. He thrust a few more times and, nails digging into your shoulder to hold you against him, he came hard. Mumbled curses and praise floated past your ear, but you were too far gone to pick out single words. He lay on top of you for a moment, balls emptying, cock twitching and softening, before pressing himself up to kneel between your legs again. He gently stroked a finger around from your temple, to your cheek, and along your jaw. Then he slowly began to pull out and you groaned as you felt his cum move with him. It was a singular and delightful feeling, but stimulation was becoming overstimulation with your legs still bound.

Armand knew this and as he knelt he began to untie your legs. He didn’t move slowly, but he took his time. Even though you were no longer human, he rubbed the skin of your legs where the cord had been as gently as if you were. He helped you straighten out your legs, one at a time, slowly and with care, with expertise. He stayed kneeling between your legs for a bit longer as he massaged them until they were flat on the bed. You watched with a mixture of awe and adoration. You also couldn’t help but to notice that he was equally gorgeous, soft and spent, as he was when he had started. You looked at him between your legs and felt a deepening attraction. This was a side of Armand that a select few were allowed to see and you were now included among them. Deftly, he slid his clothes off the rest of the way and lay on the bed next to you.

“Come here, puce,” he said with a tone that was more of an invitation than a command. He circled an arm around you and pulled you next to him. You laid your head on his chest and rested your hand on his stomach. You rolled half onto your side, wanting as much contact with him as possible. You let your hand travel up his stomach to play with the hair on his chest as you lay in his arm.

“Thank you, Maître,” you whispered as you closed your eyes.

Fangtober 2024 prompt list • Main masterlist

[tsatsked]

Lore details I've noticed: Farewell Rayashki event

As always that's mostly Russian/USSR/Slavic stuff and some translations, feel free to add anything. I've also made a post about Silver Knot lore details

Obviosly, spoiler warning

Alenka - a USSR chocolate type produced since 1965, they are quite soft and sweet and still popular among kids and adults

The playground is quite typical for the time period. The drawings and sunflowers might be Vila’s and kids’ work. It’s not very clear if the graffiti is made by someone inspired by hip-hop culture or is August’s failed attempt at scribbling out his name, judging by “А” and “Г” as 1st and 3rd letters. The only thing I’d add here is more scraped parts recycled into playground constructions

Ijirak, Kikituk, Qiqirn - creatures from Inuit folklore (as far as I know they are not known in native Siberian folklore). I haven’t found information about Hoituk

The Russian word for “most” means “best” in the phrase “the most “most”” (“самый-самый”)

“It was only by luck that we found the runium. For over 60 years, people here have worked together to make it what it is now” - Vila. If the events happen in 60s-80s (judging by the overall vibe), than the last time reverse was at 1977 and Rayashki started to grow from a village to a town at 1917 or later. It means the town exported runium for all the Soviet years.

⬆️ EDIT: Silver Knot (Windsong's story) confirms it actually happens in 80s-90s

Most of the sighs say “For Better Future”, “Welcome to Rayashki” and “Welcome Zeno’s Military Institute”

The room in which Windsong stays is Soviet af. There are an old TV with a lens, cool bookshelf and tiles that surprised me. They’re common for public and liminal spaces but not so much for the living ones. Maybe they’re chosen because they endure harsh Artic climate better that wood or linoleum

EDIT: the TV looks like KVN-49 model, produced in 1949—1962

“It must be Kikituk! But their closest habitat should be Kong Kalrs Land, hundreds of kilometres away”. Kong Karls Land - a group of island of Svalbard archipelago, Norway. As @vingler-mirror point out in their post, Rayashki is likely based on Pyramiden town owned by USSR on the same archipelago

Природа это числа и черты - “Nature is numbers and lines” Природа это мозаика цветов - “Nature is a mosaic of colours”

“Mutant Kikituk from Olga area! You should be at the Olga Strait, hunting for migrating salmon and whales, not here!” - excuse me OLGA STRAIT!? THE ONE NEAR JAPAN!?

Poneva/ponyova - an element of Russian (Eastern Slavic?) female clothing worn on top of the main skirt of the dress. I believe there was either a mistranslation in Needles and Loaves message where Raisa said “poneva dress”, either she meant the whole outfit

Samodiva - Their name is feminine and can be roughly translated as “self-wonder”, but that’s another word for vila the creature from Western and Southern Slavic mythology similar to Eastern Slavic rusalka/mavka

Other stuff I’ve noticed:

The town seems to have a big arcanist population, if not most of them are arcanists. An arcanist right is applicable to them and all Vila’s known students are arcanists (if the kids are arcanists, their parents and grandparents are arcanists too)

The people of Rayashki seem to come from different places, and it makes sense with Pyramiden's history (EDIT: the workers were mostly from a western region of Ukraine). Pasono’s first name seems to be obscure and I’ve found only a surname mostly known in America. Patrik’s name is more popular name in other countries, and it make me to believe his ancestors might be foreigners. Bogina’s name comes from Southern Slavic languages

Rayashki is very communistic compared to the rest of USSR. Maybe it’s the town’s history, citizens’ temperament, small town’s size, seclusion and big self sufficiency combined. EDIT: the town's athmosphere conctasts with the period of USSR where people start feel more positive about the world around and capitalism with it

[lycandrophile]

a breakdown of my one week post-op appointment (after top surgery):

i came in wearing my mastectomy pillow around my chest because it makes walking more comfortable, and i was nervous about that because the social anxiety said it was weird to go out in public like that, even if it was just to the surgeon’s office. when the surgeon brought me into the exam room, though, she didn’t even mention it, so if you’re like me and get nervous about stuff like that, you can rest assured that they’re very used to seeing it.

i was also nervous about having my boyfriend record parts of the appointment, but she was super chill about that too. basically, whatever your social anxiety tells you is weird to do at these appointments to be comfortable or document it or whatever else, they’ve already seen it a million times and they don’t care at all.

for the past week, as we’ve been emptying my drains, we’ve been writing down how much fluid was in each bulb and when it was emptied on a sheet the hospital gave us. the first thing the surgeon did when we got in the office was look over those notes to see how much i’m draining and confirm that the fluid level is low enough to take my drains out.

the next thing she did was unwrap all the bandages and take all the padding off. she didn’t do the big reveal of my chest in front of a mirror that i’ve seen a lot of surgeons do, but i suspect that might be because she knew i already saw it when we had to send some pictures to her.

the only part of getting the drains out that i could feel at all was at the drain sites (the little incisions where the drains came out of my body). i felt a little bit of pain there when she cut the stitch on each side that keeps the drains in place, and a bit when she was bandaging the sites once they were out, but it was nothing bad. when the drains were actually getting taken out, i could feel some pulling on the drain sites, but i couldn’t feel the drains coming out at all. i thought she was still working on the stitches until i saw the full tube in her hand after. the pulling feeling wasn’t super comfortable and maybe hurt a little, but again, nothing nearly as bad as you’d think getting tubes pulled out of your chest would feel. the drain sites are definitely still sensitive now if something directly touches them, but i’m much more comfortable than when the drains were in.

once the drains were out she also peeled the steri strips off of my incisions, which was both the most painful part of the whole process and an incredibly weird feeling. the feeling of them peeling off my skin was decently painful, like a particularly stubborn bandaid coming off, but there was a band in the middle of that feeling where it was totally numb, because the skin around my incisions is super sensitive but the incisions themselves are numb. my boyfriend and dad were in the room with me and, as she was taking the strips off, i turned to them and said “that hurts but it also doesn’t?” that was the best way i could describe it in the moment. all in all, not awful, just like a bad bandaid with a weird strip of fuzzy nothing in the middle. the worst part was just that it caught me by surprise because i didn’t know they would be getting peeled off until she started doing it.

once the incisions were out in the open, she put some moisturizer on them, which felt even weirder. this time, instead of being strips of painful with a strip of non-painful, it was just a super weird liminal space where i was deeply uncomfortable and my brain reacted like i was in pain, but the only sensations i was actually feeling we’re super dull and barely there. doing that myself will definitely be…interesting.

up until this appointment, i had been wearing two ace bandages with two abd pads and gauze strips underneath. when she rewrapped me at the end, she just put the two pads over my incisions with no gauze around them and then put one ace bandage back on me. so my bandages are much lighter now, and it’s definitely more comfortable than before.

she had me make another appointment for two weeks from now (at 3 weeks post-op). she told me that, until then, i should limit my physical activity just as much as i have been so far, even if it feels like i can do more now. she also said that i can shower as long as the water doesn’t hit my chest directly, that i should change the pads every time i shower, and that i should switch to a clean ace bandage once a week (we didn’t have to buy extras, they were given to us). she recommended i get scar strips at some point between now and the next appointment, but said i shouldn’t start using them until she can take a look at my chest at 3 weeks and tell me if my skin is ready for them.

overall, it ended up being a much shorter appointment than i expected, although i’m honestly not sure what else i thought was going to happen. that being said, it didn’t feel rushed at all, and it was really nice to have her look at me and confirm that my chest is healing well.

[f4nd0m-fun]

So in a lot of these monster hunting fantasy webcomics, you have these things called monster cores. Imagine, if you will, an AU where the Justice League has always been in a world like this. Maybe an alternate earth, maybe the aliens are from different planes instead of planets, maybe you've got magic as the primary force and yet there's some who still manage to stick almost entirely to tech/magitech (like Bruce). These cores are essentially batteries, and the more powerful the monster the more energy you can draw. Also, I love the idea that, if you put it together right, you can technically recharge it.

Enter, the Phamily. Either they are from this world and the Fentons are monster hunters trying to find the origin place of the monsters, or this isn't their original world and they're trying to open a portal home.

Danny, Ellie, Dan, and Vlad if he's there, have cores. These can be considered batteries just looking at the way ectoplasm is used (imagine how much more potent the cores would be than the globs). Jazz, the parents, and Danny's friends if they're there too are liminal. This could mean that magic considers them part monster despite no cores, or maybe they're considered akin to warlocks or sorcerers, looked down upon but not actively hunted or something. Although the presence of the half monster kids and what seems to be a half monster dad... (yes this is probably a family breakfast ship, sue me if you dare) well, Vlad is gonna be determined to fight off the rumors with whatever he's got, there's no need for his darling Maddie to get worked up about idiots, aside from him and Jack of course. (I also love Vlad x Connie so this could either be Vlad is just an uncle or we get Connie in and call it Family Party or something - Party cause alcohol?)

Also not entirely sure on how I'm writing Bruce and Dick here, I want them to be able to access magic in some way, but sensing magic might be more of an Oracle/Barbara thing, I'm not sure, but also they can't do anything big or flashy with it, it's more tiny stuff which is why they rely on magitech. Also the idea that even if people can sense magic, usually they ignore changes aside from moving away from it if necessary cause usually it means a bunch of monsters are coming through a breach. Honestly, not sure how to run this but, eh.

The below segment is written with Native!JL and Isekai!DP in mind.

=====||=====||=====||======||=====||=====||=====

Bruce had been tinkering with his latest animaga, a monster core whose energy had been threaded through one if his favorite inventions, intended to allow him and his ward flight with the use of monster wings.

"B!"

He tensed but refuses to startle as his ward all but jumped on top of him. "Yes Dick?"

"The magic feels weird!"

Bruce paused, setting his tools down. He knew as a half elf, Richard was sensitive to magic, but wasn't nearly as strong with it as most full elves.

Of course, Bruce had always been considered... disabled in that regard, a full elf who could only feel the energy close to him, though it wasn't public knowledge that he knew of. "That's good to know, Chum, why don't you meditate on it and I'll investigate tonight?"

His ward seemed to understand the intent to leave him behind and started to protest.

"Chum, I was going out alone before you showed up, if the magic really has changed, it'll be safer for me to go out and use the radar."

Dick whined but didn't protest again.

Bruce hoped he wouldn't sneak out this time.

As night began to fall, a family of 9 was gutting a strange metallic ship. Well, the three elder ones were, while the younger ones worked together to scout out the area.

Bruce had just arrived to the location, but chose not to interfere just yet. Batman was the embodiment of night to many, a fearsome predator to others, and some even thought he was a monster himself. Reconnaissance was his strength, as was stealth.

"I don't know, Jazz, the energy here is weird. Muggy almost." His form gave off a soft glow, not unlike that of the whisps, though much larger in body.

The girl with red hair, Jazz he presumed, did not appear impressed. "Like you're the expert on energy. Maybe you should ask Sam when we get back to Mom and dad."

"And Vlad."

"Don't remind me."

The glowing one shuddered. "I know him and our parents have been buddy buddy again but why did he take you find along?"

"Because you're still in training, Daniel."

Both children shrieked.

"I see your core has accepted me into your Fraid."

Bruce froze a bit. Core? Thier energy was certainly strange but not entirely monstrous, hence his inactivity, but the presence of a core presented issues.

"Whatever, Fruitloop. Go back to camp."

"I don't think I will, you're being watched and I can't have my son or daughter being in harm's way."

"Give it a rest, Frootloop, we're not your kids." Despite their attitude, something about their reaction and stance suggested they were worried about being watched as well.

Bruce wondered how they knew about him, perhaps he should have asked Lucius for help with a dampening field to hide the energy of the animaga?

"Don't bother flying away, you'll be surrounded before you can think." Vlad placed a hand on Danny's shoulder.

Before Bruce could react, there was a flash of light that all but burned onto his retinas, but the light was all wrong, a deep black instead of a glowing hue. By the time he was back to his senses, Vlad was gone, and in his place was another strange Whisp. Batman didn't have to turn around to find there were identical ones behind him. Clearly, this was an opponent not to be underestimated.

[hausofanya]

 ͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ ͏ ͏ 9:30 PM ͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ — ͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ you have one new message from…

featuring cléo anya torell, mentions of the skz & hsk ensembles, and a new addition to the fray. word count 1k ( 1023 ) notes from june and with that, the unraveling begins.

everyone has been doing a lot of worrying recently.

she knows chan is squeezing in calls between stages, even when she’s told him he doesn’t have to. the apartment is lonely with moniqa working late and xavier gone. the kids seem to rotate in babysitting her when they can, but when the apartment is empty between the liminal hours she’s left alone with her thoughts, she’s just been floating from room to room, dazed as time flits by before she can blink.

her letter to the public was received well. xiomara had sent a few screenshots of comments off of twitter to their group chat earlier that week and it eased her heart a little bit. the others send their own comments of lighthearted support and condolences. xavier is still notably absent. nobody comments on his absence and she doesn’t ask.

she hasn’t seen him since moniqa had told her that he was behind why dowon looked roughed up–understatement–in his apology video. the bruising discoloration around his nose and face had sent a swooping feeling to sink her stomach. his stare had been a heavy burden throughout the trial. winning didn’t feel like the victory it was supposed to be.

it doesn’t erase the feeling of being trapped. the walls of her apartment feel like a cage, a prisoner of her own in his own doing. the scrutiny felt like an open sore.

her letter was genuine, yes, but how much of it was really just her being tired of being treated like glass? the hovering, the worried glances, the never ending suffocating feeling of pity. it sticks to her like thin film. a second skin refusing to shed. she’s already dreading the meetings, and if she was being completely honest with herself, if she had to hear jyp talk about the ‘importance of artist vulnerability’ one more time, she might just lose it.

her phone lights up one evening after yet another day stolen before her, finding herself standing in the kitchen when she becomes more aware of her surroundings. a dull pang sounds through her chest when she glances towards the shuttered window. it was already nighttime. her phone lights up again after fading to black, revealing the time as 9:30–moniqa was late again.

(of course she was. you’re the reason she had to take time off from work.)

teeth sink into her lower lips as she eyes the brightened screen. an unknown number marks the new message across the smooth surface. it would be harmless if she didn’t open it. if she waited when moniqa got back, she could go to the police with the message to have the person looked into. she should be wary of text messages from unknown numbers now, she knows. her personal number had been exposed one too many times already.

but. better to scratch the surface and find out if it's yet another death threat, right?

she unlocks her phone.

hi! i got your number from a coworker, so so sorry if this feels invasive…. i wouldn't answer this either if i were you. but your story hit really close to home and i was wondering if we could meet? if you’re comfortable!

she stares at her screen for a long pause. what coworker would be giving away her phone number? and now of all times?

you definitely don't sound suspicious at all.

her heartbeat quickens as she presses send, the guilt immediately hitting her as she tosses her phone onto the table with a loud clatter. moniqa had gone through her contacts and wiped her phone clean of anyone who wasn’t staff, close friends, or family. her hands begin to shake, wringing them nervously before lunging to just wipe the contact form her phone as if it was never there. she already doing so well, and now she’d gone and fucked it all up–

does it make me more credible if i told you i know dowon personally?

cléo chokes, breath lodging in her throat. she picks up her phone again before she loses the nerve. this isn’t funny. whoever is trying to play games with me, are you happy now?

a mixture of fear and anger swirls in her chest. she could just see the headlines now. ‘broken artist falls for message bait.’ ‘vulnerable idol lashes out in lieu of exposure of tumultuous relationship.’

moniqa would be so disappointed in her. hot tears brim over her waterline, squeezing her phone in her hands. would it ever be over? when will she finally have rest?

a sob breaks free before she can squash it. her chest hurts. she sniffles once before glancing down at her phone, prepared to just delete the entire conversation and go to bed pretending it never happened. with slightly blurred vision, she swipes her thumb to delete the conversation.

the first thing he said to you was that he needed to hide the relationship because his company was still too small, right?

her breath stills once again, thumb hovering over the red application.

i bet you asked yourself why he would even pursue a relationship despite wanting to keep his career afloat. ‘you know how fans are. they’ll skin you alive and i don’t want my pretty lady to suffer when she’s with me.’

cléo feels her entire body go cold. someone had to be feeding this person personal information. his exact words repeated back to her almost a year later, word for word. her chest gets tight, almost struggling to inhale properly as the texts continue to pour in.

i’m sorry if i’m bringing up bad memories. you’re not the only one he said those words to. i don’t know how you’re feeling right now, but i thought you could use some comfort from someone who knows exactly what he’s like.

she doesn’t know whether to laugh or throw up.

who are you? she finally texts back with trembling hands. her heart seizes again when the typing pops up and then disappears completely a couple times. when her screen lights up one final time, she drops her phone completely, barely registering the sound.

my name is jeong lia.

[broomsick]

Ways to incorporate music into deity work

Hi there, music enthusiasts! I'm here to help you blend what you're passionate about with what you're devoted to. After all, music has a particular, unique kind of divinity to it! It can dig deep into our souls and help us connect to our emotions in a way, I’m sure you'll agree, is nothing short of spiritual. And any historian will tell you that music is one of the oldest forms of art to have ever been performed by humans. Even back during the antiquity and through the eras that followed, it was very much one of the main mediums through which people would connect with religion. The homeric hymns were sung, galdr is generally considered to have been a musical practice involving ritual singing...

Now, I've learned with time that there are little offerings more rewarding than songs. Just like they can help us understand our own feelings, they're also a great way to communicate to other people the feelings we find hard to put into words. You'll know this if you've ever made a playlist for someone, or even written someone a song. Music is beautiful in that way. Offering a song to the Gods works in that same manner: if you're somebody who struggles with communicating their emotions, there's no reason you shouldn't be able to share a song with the Gods, like you would for a friend. You can play it and meditate on their image, or simply listen to it, eyes closed and fully focused on the music as an act of devotion. Even sing/play it, whatever feels right!

I personally like to assing certain songs to certain deities! That way, when a specific song seems to come up over and over on shuffle, I think that this or that deity might be trying to reach out to me! To associate a song with a God is to give this God an essence, an individual aura. The songs I associate with Freyja are generally confidence-boosters, those I associate with Baldr are most often peaceful and emotion-stirring... And this helps with picturing the Gods as separate entities, with their own, distinct spirits! Some might find it easier to connect with a deity during meditation or divination sessions when they play the deity's assinged song. In a way which is reminiscent of devotional candles, this might even become a means with which to invoke the God ("Hey there! I'm playing your song and thinking about you, you're invited to join me!")

And if, like me, you're an incurable nerd, you may go even further and practice this little exercise I love to engage in on public transport or during any other especially boring liminal times: stop looking at your phone, draw back into your imagination, play a song and imagine something. Is it a quiet forest? A vast expanse of snowy moutains? A night around a bonfire with friends? A bright day in a bustling city? Focus on whatever comes to mind. Do the feelings brought about by this image remind you of a deity you worship with? Two birds with one stone: enjoy a song, engage in deity work! It’s as simple as that.

I'm sure there are loads of other, more creative ways you all have found to connect with deity worship using music. Whatever these ideas are, feel free to share them! It’s always great to hear how other people practice, so let’s share!

[zh0nggucc1]

Drippin Desires 1/2

Word count: 1.6k

Pairings: Mingi x Gn!reader

Content: Mingi is Y/N’s boss and he’s running late…

Warning: NSFW, public indecency, fingering, degradation, pet names (darling), dom!mingi, sub!reader

Splash! Droplets of the liminal greys above my head secreted its condensed layers. People scavenged around for any form of shelter, some even using the tops of their hood-less jackets to protect their heads from the harmless liquid. There was one in particular who caught my eye, the only one that could come out of this waterfall looking like a Greek God. If he wasn’t a Greek God he was surely blessed with all the beauty Athena had to offer

Song Mingi, unfortunately my boss. His brown, slicked back locks were beginning to fall down onto his carefully and beautifully, sculpted face, due to the rain weakening the gel that held his most likely, soft and luscious hair in place. A slight look of frustration painted his face before he glanced my way, replacing that sour look with a half smile. He soon approached me. We didn’t often catch the train together as he usually took the earlier train. I’m assuming he woke up late, putting him in this position.

“Good morning Mr. Song, are you running late?” I gently and professionally spoke to him. The rain dripping down his face enhanced his beauty by 100x, I could barely focus on anything but his stunningly shaped, pink, plump lips. They looked like they were itching to be kissed, I couldn’t bare it. “No need to be so professional, we’re not at work yet, call me Mingi.” He sent me a friendly smile. I couldn’t be friendly with him, I could barely resist ripping his clothes off on the spot. “I would prefer to be professional around you, sir.” As I finished speaking, the train had arrived at the platform. The moment the doors had opened, I swiftly hopped on hoping he would take the hint and leave me alone. The train was rather crowded so we had both ended up in each other’s personal space. It was more than i could handle.

“Come on, you can loosen up around me Y/N, don’t have to be so tight~.” His comment caused a light pink to cover my cheeks. “I don’t think it is appropriate for you to be talking to me this way and please, call me ‘L/N’, we must remain professional, sir.” I remained calm. “What? You don’t like it when I call you Y/N?” He sent me a very subtle smirk. No, I fucking love it, that’s the problem…

“Please don’t call me that again.” I spoke in between a gulp. Mingi spoke up again. “But I like your name, Y/N.” That was it. “I said stop!” I snapped at him, just like an angry chihuahua. I immediately regretted it. I turned around, My back facing him, feeling slightly guilty for shouting at him. Seconds later, I felt something solid poke my backside. Was that what I thought it was? This can’t be happening, I won’t be able to resist much longer…

“S-Sorry…” He muttered, as he grazed his finger along my hip, his tone much less confident and much more timid. He held his head lower, the sensation of his rough breaths down my neck, sending chills down my spine. I know what he wanted and I wanted it too but it was so risky, especially here.

Fuck it. Any dignity I left was gone in an instant as I backed myself up onto his partially hardened erection. I could tell he enjoyed this as he had to clear his throat to hide any devilish sounds that were aching to leave his mouth. It was so undeniably sexy. I needed to hear more of his sinful vocals. They caused a familiar liquid to coat my panties. I pressed my thighs together, in attempts of creating some kind of friction to satisfy this unbearable desire to be touched by him.

I hurriedly, scanned around the crowded cart. Once I was sure no one was looking, I grabbed his abnormally long fingers from behind and placed them exactly where I wanted them, up my skirt, in between my thighs. Not a word, left my lips in shame. I was about to let my boss fondle me on a train.

I heard a scoff leave his mouth and felt the vibrations from his chest due to our close proximity. Gosh that was so sexy, I felt myself getting even wetter. I bit my bottom lip, my breath becoming shaky.

His head tilted, his lips grazing my earlobe. “What is it? You want my fingers, hm?” He suggested, his voice low and quiet. It turned me on more than anything. I gulped and nodded. “I want to hear your words, darling.” He stated, stubbornly. “Y-yes..” I quietly replied. “Yes what?” He smirked. “Yes please...” I desperately spoke. He let out a low chuckle, sending shivers down my spine.

His finger’s collided with my underwear using one gentle touch and with one rough pull, they had been ripped off of me. I gasped in disbelief. He muttered a careless ‘oops’ and placed lacy fabric in his other hand, so he was now able to give me what I had been desiring.

He swiped his middle finger across my dripping folds, causing me to let out a shaky breath. He soon located my clit, rubbing slow and gentle circles around it. It felt good, but i needed more. I whined quietly. “What? is it not enough for you? How about this?” He hastily shoved two digits inside of me, causing me to let out a loud gasp. My reaction brought a wider smirk to his face. It created a sloshing sound due to the wetness. His fingers were so long, they easily reached my g-spot. He pumped his fingers in and out, rapidly, hitting my g-spot every time. My body jolted every time he hit it. I bit down on my bottom lip to suppress my moans, hard enough to draw blood.

It satisfied him seeing me try so hard to keep my composure but failing miserably. “What a slut? taking my fingers so well.” He whispered, his lips, again grazing my earlobe. I wished those perfect lips of his could be all over my body. I wished for his tongue to replace his fingers ramming into my dripping cunt. Unfortunately, this was the most I could allow to happen. It was too risky.

His bulge rubbed against my ass as his fingers rammed into my clenching cunt. He used his thumb to circle my clit, rapid enough for an orgasm to be nearing. I couldn’t do that here… it would make a mess.

“Sir- I mean Mingi- I mean Mr. Song… you need to stop.. i’m c-close.” I stuttered, breathlessly. “So what? Why don’t we make a mess and let the whole world that you’re not as innocent as you make yourself out to be~.” He whispered seductively. As much as I loved this feeling, he had to be stopped. I grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand out of my skirt and just in time because our stop was approaching. Once the train had stopped, he leaned down to whisper in my ear again. “Meet me in my office on your lunch break, darling~” He got off of the train while I paused, almost forgetting to get off.

I hopped off and started making my way my usual coffee shop. I always stopped by there before work. As I walked in, I noticed a face i hadn’t seen before. I had grown quite fond of all of the employees, but this one I didn’t recognise. They must’ve hired someone knew. He was gorgeous, a little bit short, but nevertheless stunning. He had black, mid length hair, with a middle parting. He had a smile that could light up a whole room and quite a cute aura. I had been so focused staring at him, I didn’t notice that he was trying to take my order. “Ma’am, can I help you?” He gifted me a gentle smile, knocking me out of my trance. “Ah yes, so sorry! Could I get a caramel latte with extra cream?” I asked, He immediately typed it into the till. “Of course, is that all?” His voice was so soft and pretty, I could listen to it all day. “Yup that’s all, how much will that be?” I asked. “On the house… if I could get your number?” He flirted, looking me in the eye. He was confident, even more attractive. My cheek went a light shade of pink. “Eh sure why not?” I took my phone out of my pocket and opened up the keypad, handing my phone to him. He took it and swiftly typed his number in, saving his contact with the name ‘Joongie<3’. I read his name badge. His name was Hongjoong, what a pretty name. “thank you uhh-“ I cut him off. “Y/N, call me Y/N.” I smiled. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He passed my phone back to me. “Nice to meet you too, Hongjoong.” I replied. “Wait how did you- oh I forgot I wear a name badge.” He let out the cutest chuckle, to which I replied also with a chuckle.

After our conversation I waited, patiently for my latte. After it had been made, I bid Hongjoong a goodbye and made my way into my work building. There was nothing special about my job. It was a basic office job, nothing more to it, I sat at a computer all day and got paid to type. I can’t the pay was bad though, the pay was pretty good for what it was, it gave me enough to live on and that’s all that mattered. There was one thing I looked forward too everyday and that was eye fucking Song Mingi whenever he made a grand appearance however today I felt as if I had more than just eye fucking to look forward to.

I walked over to my computer, setting my coffee down on the table. I decided to take my phone out and message Hongjoong, just so my number would show up in his phone.

Hey! it’s Y/N, message me when you get the chance

Delivered

I knew, as he was at work, it would take a while for him to reply, so I just got straight on with my work.

TO BE CONTINUED…

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed!! please give me your opinion and/or requests!! thank you for reading <3

[entities-of-posts]

yknow i wish i could exaggerate this and say this isnt real but i keep ending up in liminal spaces. i feel like this is the best blog to discuss such things. i dont know why, just feel the need to share my strange experiences! i just found this blog, but it calls to me or something dramatic like that. i dont know, im pretty sure these liminal spaces keep finding me instead of me finding them.

heres a few pictures of the places i go! i kinda wonder how i get here. those first two was when i went to see a movie, and it was kinda full when we got there, but when we left there was no one! no cashiers, and the theater we were in was empty too. the whole town seemed kinda dead at that time, which was strange, cause it was only 8pm.

second one… not sure how i got that, to be honest. i just found a slide. i dont know how far it goes up, or where it leads. you cant see it, but it turns and spirals to some far off second floor.

the warehouse one was when i was trying to find something for someone! was sent to grab something from a warehouse. the warehouse was on the 6th story, strangely. never found what i was looking for.

ooh, that street. that was a strange seat. was trying to find the car after a long night. there was a lot of alleys. that was one of the alleys! no idea where the alleys went to. they simply existed. they are simply alleys.

the last one. i just.. found it like that. it was in an empty room in a church. i didnt really dwell on why it was like that.

theres a lot i didn’t get pictures of, either! that church i mentioned is really strange. me and my sister broke into a room below the chapel once, and the floor was covered in dead bugs. we didn’t get far past it. there were so, so many bugs. that church underground lead to a few other tunnels within it. I’ve gone through those tunnels many times, and I’ve gotten lost in them so many times too. Possibly more than I’ve entered have I gotten lost!

Oh, what else. Ah! I was in the backstage of a theater once. I don’t know what play they were performing. They werent playing it yet, It was a few months before the show. In fact, the show should happen soon! Regardless, I found strange things in the backstages. A lot of black, cardboard cutouts of human shapes. There was a large room, so large. There was some kind of mountain of props, with a stairwell leading up it.

i only have a blurry images of that theater. i don’t actually know why they’re blurry! they just turned out like that. better not to question, huh.

i hope you enjoyed reading this! all of this is real, to be as honest as possible. you can throw away this ask, i don’t mind! or publicize it. i don’t mind either! I just felt that, seeing as you are an archive, it was fitting to settle down my own ‘statement’ or whatever. have fun, and remember! there are liminal spaces around every corner. for some weird reason.

Oh I love those uncanny little corners of the world! I would have climbed up the inside of the slide 👁👁

Liminal spaces are generally in the Stranger/Spiral overlap. It may be an overused word, but nevertheless the feeling remains as strong.

[drivinmeinsane]

Draw Me In

※ Driver (Drive) x Ken (Barbie) ※

{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 }

※ Summary: Ken's insatiable curiosity leads to a messy outcome when he fails to give Driver any semblance of personal space.

※ Rating: 18+ for explicit mature content.

※ Content/Tags: Semi-public sex, Frottage, Cumplay, Bruising, Ken has glittery cum (glizz), Gratuitous use of a semi-public space, Driver being Driver.

※ Word count: 3,366

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

※ Author's Notes: I really have nothing to say in defense of myself for this one other than this isn't the last you'll see of Driver and Ken from me. The edit I put together was… a choice. Special thanks to @danime25 for proofreading this for me!

It's that liminal time between night and morning, where the distinction between the two blends together into a sleepy haze. There are no last dregs of dusk and not yet the warming glow of a predawn sun. There's only the sterile hum of the parking garage lights. The darkness further beyond is hazy with the pollution of mankind's attempt to banish the night and what hides in its embrace

Sheltered below the metric tons of concrete and steel of the parking garage, Ken watches Driver work under the hood of his car. He's methodically removing tubing and cleaning the connection points before putting in fresh hoses. The function and purpose is beyond the blond man, but he still hovers nearby. He's insatiably curious about everything to do with the "real world".

He shuffles closer, peering over the working man's shoulder. He looks for something to comment on. He's yearning for his attention. "What's that part do?" He asks, mouth nearly against Driver's neck. He's rewarded by the man looking in the direction of his pointing finger. 

"Expansion valve. It turns the coolant into a vapor." His voice causes Ken's stomach to flip. He shivers a little at the feeling and instead focuses on trying to parse out what the words mean. He comes up with nothing and just stares blankly at the.... expanding value? He's already forgotten what the other man had called it. 

"So cool." He finally says. His tone is more confident than he feels.

Inexplicably, Driver's shoulders hitch and shake for a moment as though he let out a silent laugh. He frowns. He didn't think he said anything funny. He takes the step forward that bridges the miniscule gap between them. Ken hooks his chin over the other man's shoulder to get a better look at his hands. They're the same height which causes Ken to rise onto his tiptoes and fully press his body against him, leaning into him for support. He feels Driver tense, his hands go still on the material he is about to cut. He can feel the rise and fall of his back against his chest. He's so warm. Ken settles comfortably against him. He hears the click of the other man's throat and the wet parting of his lips, but no words come.

He rapturously watches Driver's hands while his fingers deftly work the freshly cut hose into the connection points. He gasps a little when he sees his thumb brush over the tip, his hand giving the material a firm tug to get it into place. His stomach swoops and heat floods his body. Pressure starts to build, and he rubs his crotch against the man in front of him. He whines a little at the sensation and repeats the motion over and over. Driver doesn't protest, doesn't say a word, only widens his stance to give him more access. Ken finds himself getting lost in the feeling building up inside him and he presses his face against the mechanic's back. He's making quiet noises. He can't stop them from breaking loose, he just feels so good. Driver feels so good. 

The minute shifts of Driver's body, the way he leans and twists away from Ken is too much. The indifference he's showing him sparks something furiously demanding in him. He needs to be closer, needs more more more more. He blindly fumbles for the other man's hip to pull him flush and hold him still. He wants to chase down the heated sensation, to use the man against him to get to the finish. 

Driver abruptly straightens and takes a step back from the '73 Malibu. Ken stumbles. The moment is shattered, and he's completely taken by surprise. His hand slides off of the man's hip. Embarrassment lances through him. "I'm sorry."

"Didn't do anything worth apologizing for." His voice is relaxed despite there being a rough, cracking edge to it that makes Ken inspect his face closely for any emotions when he turns around. Nothing, he's vague as always.

Ken stands there, hands clenching and struggling to stay at his sides while he watches Driver take a seat on the edge of the open car.  He's slightly damp with sweat, strong arms smeared with grease and grime. He looks so imperfectly human. Ken wants to touch all of his flaws. Memorize them. Marvel in everything that separates the man from being a doll. It's a sickening feeling to watch Driver's attention shift from him to their surroundings. Something akin to jealousy boils under his skin and he crowds in too close, nearly pressed against the seated man's knees. The heat of Driver's body attracts him like a moth to the destructive flame.

Driver starts to lean down towards him and for a deliciously, delirious second, Ken thinks that the other man is going to take him by the belt loops and pull him in close to lick a stripe up his exposed stomach. He doesn't, much to Ken's disappointment. He simply picks up a rag from the toolbox near their feet and proceeds to wipe his broad hands. It does little to clear away the grime stubbornly clinging to his skin. His hands are still smudged. Ken knows that if Driver were to touch him, his own perfect skin would be marred with ghostly impressions of his exploration. Black and gray handprints against tan skin. A police department's worth of fingerprint impressions.

Driver takes the toothpick out of his mouth and tucks it securely behind one ear. He stands up and calmly latches the car's hood. It clicks closed and the sound echoes in the silence populated only by the irregular hitches of Ken's breathing as he tries to keep himself in check. The mechanic regards him with one of his bland expressions before Ken spots a flash of hunger in his eyes that the impassive man can't quite hide. He perks up slightly at the direct attention and gives him a sheepish smile.

Driver returns it with one of his slow, crooked grins. The one that makes the skin around his eyes crinkle. With all the nonchalance in the world, he reaches out with calloused hands and grabs Ken by his denim vest. He pulls him heartbreakingly close before twisting and slamming him down onto his back on top of the Malibu's hood almost hard enough to put a dent in the decades old metal.

The resulting noise is like thunder in the enclosed space. Ken stares up at the man above him, mouth slightly agape. He's spread out over the hood of Driver's car. He chokes back a moan and arches his back, tilts his head to expose the thick column of his neck, spreads his legs... the whole nine yards. He gives the other man all the signals in the world to know that he's presenting himself for him. He's treated with the sight of Driver clenching his jaw and swallowing hard enough that Ken can see his Adam's apple bob. His pupils are blown wide. They're deep pools ringed with bright blue.

Suddenly, deliciously, Driver steps up between his spread legs and covers Ken's mouth with his own. He clenches his thighs around the mechanic's narrow hips. He reaches up to twist his fingers in the man's shirt, but his wandering hands are quickly captured by one of Driver's. They're pinned to the glossy metal above his head. He whimpers and gasps against the other man's mouth. The sounds seem to affect the man kissing him because he clenches his fingers and digs them hard into the delicate bones of his wrists. He, for his part, is silent even as he breaks the kiss and trails his nose along the curve of Ken's jaw and down into the crook of his neck. He pauses there, breath causing goosebumps to erupt on the prone man's skin.

"Please, please, please." Ken is not even sure what exactly he's begging for. Even to his own ears, he sounds raw and desperate for whatever the other blond man is willing to give him. He feels like he's so worked up with want that he could be sick from it all.

Driver cuts his pleading off by abruptly pressing his hand over his mouth. He holds Ken in place likes a specimen on a board, something worth keeping and studying. Ken's hips thrash and buck up against the man between his legs. He's writhing in desperate arousal. His jeans feel too tight, too constricting against his crotch. His tongue passes over his lips, inadvertently licking Driver's palm. The fingers tighten their grip and dig into the soft skin of his cheeks. He arches his back at the sensation and feels Driver's erection throb against him. Chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis, he wants Driver to grind against him until they are one being. Until they are merged together like some brand new creature.

His world is narrowed down to the smooth surface of the car and their two bodies moving under the harsh lighting. "Give me something." He begs, words smothered, barely audible.

Driver obeys and bites down on the juncture of Ken's neck and shoulder. A burst of pain, of pleasure, radiates through his body and he squeezes his eyes closed, savoring the sting. His shout of surprise is muffled underneath Driver's hand.  He feels him soothe the flesh with a wet swipe of his tongue. Ken's whining and whimpering in earnest now. His moans leak out from around the bruising grip Driver has on his jaw.

"Shhhh. Going to let go of you now. I need you to quiet down. Do you understand?" The other man's voice is rough and winded. It's thick with arousal. 

Ken nods frantically underneath his hand. He feels the grip loosen slowly. Driver removes his hand but keeps his thumb resting on Ken's bottom Iip. He's thoughtfully pressing into the pliant flesh and coaxing his mouth open. He parts his lips willingly for Driver, thoroughly enjoying the way he's looking at him. He licks the pad of his thumb, relishes the way the other blond inhales sharply. Ken grows a little bolder, taking his finger into the slick pinkness of his mouth. He sucks on it, tasting the saltiness of sweat and something dusty, a little chemical tang. 

Ken is throbbing and leaking uncomfortably. He can feel the other man's erection rubbing against his own through the layers of clothing they're both wearing. He can't take the pressure any more and impatiently rolls his hips. He's desperately seeking friction. Driver's hand clenches warningly on his wrists. He doesn't heed it and his feet scramble for purchase against the front bumper. He presses his heels into it and grinds up hard.

It seems like he's snapped something inside of the other man because he pulls back from him with the same abruptness he had displayed when he threw him down onto the hood of the Chevelle. Ken lets out a frustrated whine at the loss of chest to chest contact. The other man pulling away had felt akin to a rejection, but he's not given too long to feel unwanted because Driver trails both hands down his prone, trembling body. The wheelman pauses, lingering on his chest. He kneads the yielding skin there, almost experimentally grazing his thumbs over his nipples. The skin of his hands is rough against his sensitive skin. Ken thrashes against him like he's touched a live wire, he feels as though his body has turned into one pounding heart with each thrum of his pulse. The car creaks under him. He pushes his body into Driver's, seeking the contact that was withdrawn. The words that escape him are almost completely unintelligible.

"Please, need- need it." he keens.

Driver gives him a final squeeze before firmly sliding his hands down the rest of his body. Ken's muscles tense and tremble underneath the caressing touches. Ken feels how hard Driver is against the junction of his legs. He's not entirely sure all the moisture soaking through the denim is his. He has a strong suspicion that at least some of it is the other man's precum, not his.

Ken struggles to keep himself still and cooperative when the other man reaches his waistband and unceremoniously works his pants open. The release of the constrictive material causes him to gasp. Driver's hand pins his hip down firmly, keeping him still enough to pull down his thong to expose his cock. Ken moans as his twitching erection springs free and the head of it collides with Driver's abdomen. He barely has time to get used to the sensation before Drive is curled over his body and rutting against him. Humping him like both of their lives depend on it. and, given the way Ken feels on fire, they might. He sets a frantic pace, the denim is deliciously rough against Ken's flushed skin and it's all he can do to meet him thrust for thrust. The car is rocking and creaking from the force of their actions. Ken doesn't know much about cars, but he has a fleeting notion that this might not be the best thing for the automobile.

Driver's open mouthed panting over him. Drops of his sweat are falling on Ken's tan skin, but Ken is struck dumb by how intent and ravenous Driver's face is. Haloed by the florescent lights, he looks like he's going to devour him whole. Like the wolf Ken had seen on the TV relentlessly pursuing something called a bison. He remembers the wolf's mouth and its panting, toothy grin. It's echoed in the way Driver is looking at him. It thrills him to be the object of so much attention. His whole body is flushed with pleasure and he purposely presents himself a little more just to pull a reaction from the other man. It works. The parking garage is echoing with Ken's moans and the sound of the car struggling to hold its ground and not roll back.

He's so close to imploding like a dying star, but the soaked fabric of the jeans that the other man is still wearing is starting to chafe in a way that's painful. He makes a grab for Driver's belt. No motion is made to halt his efforts.. He sits up just enough to see what he's doing. Driver follows his gaze, and the blond man hears him give a harsh exhale.

"Oh," Ken breathes out, his movements stuttering as he takes in the scene. His hands are fighting with the belt, the silver buckle shining as brightly as the mess Ken's made on the front of the other man. His glittery precum is slicked all over the thin, white shirt and the dark wash jeans. Even the belt is slippery with the sparkling mess, causing Ken's fingers to slide off with each roll of Driver's hips. Ken's own clothing is not any better. His cock is still drooling the clear, glitter infused fluid. 

He manages to get the belt undone and winces as the buckle catches him in the thigh, he isn't dissuaded though and yanks Driver's pants open. He falls flat on his back again, overwhelmed at the sight of the mechanic's obvious arousal. He had done that to Driver. He is so very desperately wanted, needed even. They're skin to skin now. Driver is dripping and leaking, they're both slick with it. Ken reaches down and slides his hands into the man's back pockets, clamping down on his ass and pulling him in. His feet are still braced on the bumper and with Driver held in place right where he needs, he grinds against him. 

Driver kisses him again. He loses himself in the sensation of lips against his own, slippery, throbbing lengths gliding together with each of his motions. The stunt driver is anchored firmly over him and Ken is taking exactly what he wants. He starts to feel tears run down his cheeks from the ruinous sensations. It’s all so much. How could he have never existed somewhere that this pleasure doesn't exist?

"Don't stop, please, don't stop." Ken begs against his mouth, his voice is starting to sound raw. His vocal chords are overused.

"I won't." Driver responds. He sounds a little strangled.

He bites Ken's bottom lip, swollen from all the attention it's been getting, and pries a sweet moan from him in response. It's the final straw, Ken cums with a shout. He squeezes his eyes shut and about rips one of Driver's back pockets right off. Wetness coats them both in pulses. He feels the splatter against his stomach, against his chest. The wet sounds of their bodies moving together is grossly obscene.

Ken's eyes snap open as Driver drags a hand through the wetness between them. He whines as he feels the other man seek out the evidence of his release with those thick fingers. The hand is removed and Ken stares wide eyed as the wheelman looks consideringly at his fingers. They're liberally coated in Ken's glittery semen. It shines like a jewelry store's worth of diamonds under the fluorescents overhead. They make eye contact, and there's a small, crooked smile on Driver's face. It's the only warning he gets before those wet fingers are brushing over his lips, glossing them with his own release. Ken's throat works. The look on the other man's face has him breathless. He feels Driver's body shudder and his cock jerk as he looks down at him. 

"What are you thinking about?" He whispers. There's several heartbeats of silence before the man speaks, and when he does, it's more of an inner monologue than anything that would normally come out of his mouth if he were in his right mind.

"I'm thinking 'bout how I want to see you in some kinda lip gloss. Might feel sticky and gritty if I kissed you. Bet you would look pretty, just like now. All pink. Sparkly." 

Ken has just a moment to tell himself he's going to wear the product every single moment as long as it makes the other blond man look at him in this way before Driver finds the marks he had left behind earlier. His sturdy hand grips Ken's jaw hard enough to bruise all over again. He fucks himself up against Ken's softening cock and kisses him. He feels the mechanic's tongue swipe over his lips, tasting the salty release on them. Ken kisses back like it's his only tether to Earth. Driver finally cums. 

The other man tenses and shakes. He lets go of Ken's jaw and instead places the hand next to his head. He goes boneless on top of him and Ken gives his ass a reassuring squeeze before sliding his hands up under his rucked up shirt to rest on his lower back, warm skin under his hands.    

"That felt so good." Ken feels the other man's penis give a twitch and a weak spurt after his words. He hears him give a quiet groan. 

They lay there for a moment, stomach to stomach, slick wetness between them before Driver pushes himself onto his palms and peels himself from Ken. He sits up to watch the other man search for something to wipe them clean with. He finally locates a clean enough rag and Ken gets a front row seat to watch Driver wipe away the mess they had made together. The flexing of his arms as he cleans up captivates Ken and he has to grab his thighs to keep from reaching out and pulling the other man down on top of him again. He loses himself in the sight until he's startled a little by Driver handing the rag to him. He takes it and looks down at himself. His skin is covered in grease and grime marks in the shape of Driver's hands. Ripening bruises and a love bite mark his flawless skin, but most captivating of all;  he's painted in a mixture of his own glittery cum shot through with the milky swirls of Driver's. It reminds him of photos he had seen of space. He decides right then that it's beautiful.

[trying-to-get-somewhere-real]

i wish someone who follows (maybe even studies?) these things more closely could tell me about the apparent (to me) shift in media suddenly caring so much about shipping, because it feels new to me? but probably has been evolving in this direction for some time. what's happening with the bear press right now is such a function (only a function, i think?) of media suddenly asking all of these questions, and i truly do not think the cast or writers would be saying much of anything about sydcarmy if they weren't constantly asked about it. and living with the ambiguity (sorry to everyone reading most of my posts that i am so obsessed with that) would be better for everyone, but continuing to push these questions encroaches on our liminal spaces (and honestly on storer and co's as well! like who knows what they ultimately will or won't do - whatever plans are they can always evolve)

but more objectively, stepping away from this particular show and ship, it feels like the media suddenly cares about shipping waaaaaaaaay more than they have before - like sydcarmy was not set up in s1 imo to get a lot of this attention (i'm thinking of more overt will-they-won't-theys here, and even then it might take longer than 1-2 seasons for the questions to come), and as many have pointed out on this site, they are ultimately not a popular ship - we are always fighting for our lives in the streets - so who are these questions really for? why is shipping seen as driving so much traffic to these pieces? is it because the headlines get the attention of antis too? is this maybe a strike thing and publications like THR want to report on anything even a little consequential to protect the studios so it looks like everything is still alive and ongoing?

idk i just think in a different time, not that long ago, we would be living in blissful ignorance, and that would be way better for everyone! and i am kind of curious about how why when this shift started and how we got here.

[darkniters]

i wrote this in 2022, please enjoy

-

sitting by your pc, you're not really paying much attention to the monitors, but more blindly scrolling on your phone. seeing your creator friends making tweets come up on the timeline, and even getting some interactions yourself.

you've got one ear under your headphones, the other laying limp behind your ears, when suddenly a familiar notification chimes from your pc, the same on your phone.

you've received a discord message! but sitting in a ball on a chair seems much more appealing right now, maybe the notification can sit for a bit?

the thought wasn't properly considered, as you were already leaning forward to move your mouse, clicking on the messaging application.

it's a dm from ted!

the single way conversation read as such:

YOU.

you better answer you stupid son of a bitch or i will rain hellfire upon you

HURRY UP

they were all sent within the same minute.

pls be nice to me ted nippleson

what do you want, i have no more corpses in supply, you're gonna need to wait another week for that.

are you INSANE

i do not CARE for your pitiful corpses, fool

however i have made you something (oooh ted i wonder what it is)

you couldn't deny you were weary of what ted prepared for you, but curiosity consumed you as you continued to type on your keyboard with satisfying clicks.

i am very frightened ted

have i ever told you that you are a very scary man

nope, but its good to know that i have that sort of power against you.

anyways, i hope you like this, took me a bit to put together

[ link ]

looking over the link, it sent you to spotify, and you clicked into it. a gasp escaped your throat.

ted made you a playlist! and it had some of your favorite songs and some of his own. this was the first time anyone ever made you a playlist, and you were deeply touched by it. another discord message was sent.

it was very difficult to put together, please oh please im begging on my knees make more playlists public i can't keep guessing the songs you like from twitch con 2 years ago.

ted you actually got it super on point, very impressive top man!

yea cause im never wrong (y/n)

you switch the playlist on, it didnt seem to be in a liminal order. scanning through the songs, he was REALLY on point. you read the description of the playlist.

whats up pussy supreme (you are scared of me, admit it)

you've been on the ted nivison brain waves recently, and yea we talk and game a lot but i feel like a thank you is in order, so check it out! a playlist of the shit you listen to (and some of what i listen to too)

thank you for taking quality time out of your life to talk with my stupid ass

reading this, a smile never left your face. the fact that he even did this in the first place was just so nice!

DUDE you killed that shit

i gotta like make something in return

you silly goose

the reason i made the playlist to arch over both of our music tastes is so you dont need to do anything!

YOURE DEBT FREE

DUDE ILL FEEL BAD

ILL HAVE SOMETHING READY IN A FEW DAYS

NO LEAVE IT ITS FINE

I JUST MADE IT CAUSE WE TALK ALL THE TIME AND WE GAME TOGETHER

I DONT NEED SOMETHING BACK YOU USING YOUR TIME TO TALK IS ENOUGH

PLEASE

ITS OKAY

naaaah i'll make you something for sure dude

spending my time is bare minimum, you do the same with me!

new songs keep playing during the conversation, but when 4:00 comes around, teds gotta head out

alright wise guy

you're lucky i have a video to record right now

or else this would continue

enjoy recording dude, im gonna keep listening to this playlist that you've created for my fine ass

FINE???

YOU ARE THE GOOFIEST MOTHER FUCKER IVE EVER MET

DO NOT CALL YOURSELF FINE

BITCH

D:

i hope your video corrupts

and you

shit yourself during recording

and you lose power

YOU DONT MEAN THAT

I DO????

conversation then fizzled out.

you took one more glance over the playlist and noticed something.

some of these songs were made for confession.

you didnt question it, maybe it was done because he likes them, but also some of them were completely out of the ordinary im the playlist, and stuck out like a sore thumb.

little did you know, ted put those in deliberately, seeing if you'd notice and ask about it. maybe not now, but at some point. and maybe, just maybe, he'd have the balls in telling you how he actually feels.

[omgellendean]

Post: pictures of extremely normal socialist architecture or typical interiors of public spaces in socialist countries.

User 1: #liminal spaces #horror

User 2: this scares me.... It's so sinister....... I can feel these chairs trying to brainwash me

User 3: this looks so fake, can you believe they built all this just to trick us?

User 4: these poor poor people, we need more sanctions.

User 5: #dystopian #evil #hunger games

[guided-by-the-skies]

Ceres Retrograde in Capricorn | Just Sayin'

This is quite an interesting retrograde to have in this sign Because Ceres is quite opposite the wintry and earthy energy of capricorn. We're also at an in between or 'threshold' time when things can be very changeable and mutable as spring turns to summer.

So how is this going to affect you based on what placements you have in capricorn? First up -

Solar flare activity and increased aurora borealis can also indicate changes in the cosmos as a whole. I think. Ancient astrologers would probably know better than me if they has access to our technology :)

☆ scroll for your placements :) :) :)

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Ok, a lil' backstory here...

Capricorn is a dark and earthy sign, it can be very serious, and at the worst times all about restriction. But looking at the planets you have in capricorn can allow you to see what you are restricting and what you may need to let out.

Asteroid Ceres is named after the Roman goddess of crops and harvests. Meanwhile Saturnian Capricorn can bring energies of tradition and 'reaping what you sow'

SEASONALLY RELEVANT ASTROLOGY... my first shot at it

Depending on where you are in the world, you may be emjoying the lush colors of spring. However, we are in the sense reaching the death or end of the spring season and moving into summer. Energy changes from growth and new life to heat, stillness, and ripening. However, in the modern world we are disconnected from these kinds of seasonal shifts.

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Depending on what's in Capricorn, it can be a great time to reconnect not just with the natural world but with your internal nature, dreams, shadow, and unconscious desires by focussing on what is ripening or preparing for harvest over the upcoming summer months for you. Ceres retrograde amplifies these energies. Plus the liminal time period we are in... kind of makes us all more sensitive to this kinda stuff

Sun - capricorn sun signs need no introduction, but at this time of year, with ceres retrograde in your sun sign, you may find yourself challenged by new ideas and having to overcome emotional blocks to do with what you are and aren't open to. Ceres in this sign can challenge your view of what is and isn't possible. However, this also makes it a great time to learn new things.

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Moon - those with the moon in capricorn may struggle with the constraints of tradition on their emotions. This may take multiple forms depending on the rest of their chart and how able they are to rebel against the society around them. This can also be an emotionally limiting position, restricting the range of feelings that people can access. If you have been struggling with shadow work or emotional blockages and you have a moon in capricorn, it may be that your emotions have been fixed into place or limited by early childhood influences and the traditions around you. Ceres retrograde is conventionally a time for embarking on new ventures to strengthen your professional life but the themes of fertility that come up now - especially as we are experiencing the retrograde as spring gives way to summer - and there may also be more emotional fertility to look at the world from new angles, views, and perspectives.

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Ascendant - ascendent in capricorn can have a complicated relationship with tradition as it can sometimes be a position that indicated subterfuge. As the ascendent governs public image, those with this placement may feel that image is everything and that they must adhere to the conventions around them in order to maintain the image they desire. Ceres in capricorn at this time going retrograde can indicate he fertility of new ground opening up and new social and public opportunities for those with this placement that may allow them to break free of some of the self imposed constraints that hold them back.

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Mars - mars in capricorn can sometimes feel torn between the drive to embark own headstrong and personal ventures, and the need to be part of a group or organisation, although this often tends to be in a leadership role. Mars here can be great at business and entrepreneaurship, ceres, with it's mythological connections to venus, planet of the economy, can indicate the start of a new bysiness venture, a windfall, strong leadership skills, or new opportunities that mars in this placement may be perfectly poised to catch.

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Venus - venus in capricorn tends to be very sophisticated and have an abundance of ideas and creativity, but often directs this aý an official as opposed to underground level. You may clash often with those who have uranus or neptune in capricorn as their underground nature and lack of orthodoxy come into conflict with your plans. Ceres in capricorn going retrograde makes for a good business venture but for you to have the most success, it's best to work with your natural energy and direct this towards a structure, group, or organisstion of people who are familiar with your ideas and can help you refine them. Otherwise you may struggle with whether opportunities do or don't open up, although check your natal uranus and neptune to see how taking the path less travelled may serve you this time around.

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Jupiter - Jupiter in Capricorn tend to struggle with moderation and conflict between novelty and tradition, giving and taking, harvesting and sowing. For example if you have this placement you may have the issue of having lots of different projects but not knowing how to finish or even start them. This time around, Ceres retrograde may be able to help you, but only if you are able to harness it's energy correctly. The ample amount of new opportunities and positive, directed, nd organised energy that it brings can help you see ways to tie up loose ends and finish what you started. However, it could also make you overwhelmed with the amount of new possibilities that there are. Look for positive aspects with planets in your 9th and 10th houses for more info on this, as well as check your third house for any transits at this time that can help you.

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Saturn - saturn in capricorn can bring about pragmatism, at it's best, you can be disciplined, wise, organised, and capable, at your worst, overly strict, hasty or hurried, nd you find it hard to stop and smell the flowers. This retrograde offers you a choice - you can either take advantage of the bounteous opportunities which it offers to their fully extent, doing shadow work to try and leave behind the emotional blockages which may cause your characteristic caution and conservativism to go into overdrive sometimes. Or you can follow the same path as akways but risk opportunities at a deeper level by being unable to go with the flow. Check transits for your moon placement and neptune placement to see what emotional or creative energies can help you free these blockages.

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Uranus - Uranus in capricorn may have an inner longing to overhteow traditions but sometimes may not have the full capacity to do so and may feel torn between different factions of their life. Uranus may try to change the systems and society around them but may end up becoming the thing the swore to fight in the process. However, the more grounding earthy energy of ceres in this position can help uranus see the lie of the land before making any moves, meaning that their revolutionary spirit is tamed and counterbalanced, leading tı better than usual decision making around this time. If you are planning to do something big and you have this placement, now is the time to do it, while ceres is in retrograde, you may have a clearer head and make more confident and judicious choices.

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Neptune - neptune in capricorn can be a complex and difficult to understand placement, sometimes it can be an oxymoron. You can be deeply intuitive and drawn to mysticism yet need structure and authority to see this to it's full potential. You're most likely to join a secret society, study something like tarot or astrology in a structured official way, or lean back on ancient books and writings. Ceres retrograde in this sign can amplify the potential of opportunities available to you so that you may find yourself drawn to new ventures and schools of learning whether a new philosophy, an ancient language, or even training your brain to do something like lucid dreaming.

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Pluto - pluto in capricorn can be summed up in the themes of reawakening. This placement is often associated with the depths of winter, it brings themes of winter melting into spring and the thresholds of the world bringinf energy from eksewhere into this existence. It's all about unconscious upwellings and old information sich as lost or buried ideas coming to light - for example, a great placement for retuening to the wisdom of the past or for archaeologists and those who work in forensics. If you have this placement you can live quite an unconventional life that could be described as having lots of 'jump scares'. But at this time of yesr, with ceres retrograde indicating the fertility of new opportunities, this indicates a BIG MASSIVE CURVEBALL coming into your life if you have this placement.

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Lilith - lastly Lilith, or the black moon, provides a counterpart to pluto influenced by more lunar rnergies. Expect amotional and intuitive stuff coming to the forefront at this time. However, as much as this is also a time for unearthing stuff, ceres retrograde also makes it a time for receptivity and making space for new emotions. This is one of the times that you can clear genuine emotional blockages at a deep, rooted level. Check transits with venus, the moon, and check what is in cancer for you too and how it may interact with your lilith (if at all)

🌸 Thank you!

[doom-dreaming]

I know he's supposed to be pretty intimidating given his status but idkk John is kind of adorable. His small tooth gap he's had since he was a kid. The freckles on his face and possibly shoulders. How could I be even slightly scared of him. Look At Him. He's cute. Do you think at one point he smiled barely showing his teeth but enough for cortana to see his gap and do you think she felt just a little warmer at her core

Maybe that's why he's so reluctant to take the helmet off. The "human battering ram" reputation gets shot to pieces once everyone gets a look at those freckles and beautiful baby blues.

Jokes aside, I do like artistic interpretations of him that keep these features. I can understand how, realistically, the tooth gap may have disappeared once his baby teeth fell out or he lost the freckles he had as a kid, but I think keeping them into his adulthood is more fun. (And don't even get me started on shoulder freckles. Oh my god. Yes please.)

Also. Please accept this humble reimagining of that part in The Fall of Reach where Cortana finds out the truth about the S-II program. Now with 80% more (subtle) Johntana (because let's be honest, it was already kind of there. Thank you Eric Nylund.)

**********

Most of her processing attention is focused on the Pillar of Autumn. She doesn't need much to look at the Master Chief's full CSV - though she does mull over it more slowly than she'd downloaded it. Everything was the same as the public, polished version up until...oh. Interesting. She'd known the Master Chief, and the other Spartans, had been enhanced to perform far beyond the normal scope of human capability, but this...

Ever-curious but starting to feel a peculiar tightening within her code - some sort of...apprehension, maybe? - she pores over the grisly details of the operation. Growth hormones, muscle injections, bone reinforcements, literal brain surgery...and all at just fourteen years of age.

She pauses and turns this fraction of her attention away from the file, to the Autumn's C-deck. Twenty-five Spartans busy themselves with weapon maintenance, unpacking supplies, sparring. She scans the room, studying the details of each Mjolnir-clad superhuman body, near-identical apart from their mannerisms and the numbers on their chestplates. There he is. 117. She watches for a moment while he takes apart his rifle, inspects it, and reassembles it - all with confident, practiced motions.

She wants to be in tandem with him again, in that liminal space between the protective shell of his Mjolnir and his quick mind. Easy, Cortana, she chides herself. Yesterday's training exercise, as nerve-wracking and exhilarating as it'd been, had taken a toll on him. He needed the rest. And she had a file to finish.

Before the augmentations, they'd spent years training and studying, often under brutal conditions. Especially for... Her attention drifts to the next section of the file, where a picture is attached - a simple headshot of a young boy. His brown hair is tousled, as if he'd been forced to stop playing specifically to look at the camera. Sharp, intelligent blue eyes stare back at her. A scatter of freckles adorn his cheekbones like small constellations. He's smiling, but there's something rambunctious about the expression, a barely-contained mischief hiding in the quirk of his lips and the small gap between his front teeth. He looked...happy. Like a six-year-old should.

If her avatar had been visible, she would've frowned. He'd been kidnapped, taken from his family, and replaced with a flash clone. They, none the wiser, must've assumed their little boy died some weeks or months later, as flash clones inevitably did. She wasn't sure if the truth was any kinder a reality.

And Halsey had authorized every bit of it. Her processing drifts aimlessly for several cycles as she tries to comprehend the dissonance. Halsey cared so much for them, how could she have...? It was necessary, Cortana reasons. The fate of humanity rests on their shoulders. But a quieter part of her suggests that maybe the doctor's concern for her Spartans came from a place of guilt.

Snapping the wandering threads of her consciousness back to her core, she deletes the stolen files and turns her attention once more to C-deck. The Master Chief, immersed in a conversation with a few of the other Spartans, had taken off his helmet and set it on the bench beside him. Someone cracks a joke and the Chief flashes a quick smile. He's a fully-grown man now, obviously, but for a second, Cortana can see a six-year-old boy; in the gap that had stayed between his front teeth, in the freckles splashed over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, in the way his eyes - even sharper now - glint with mischief.

"Whatever the Master Chief had been through in the past...it was done. He was in her care now. She would do everything in her power - short of compromising the mission - to make sure nothing ever happened to him again."