#live and let dynamo

[seeksstaronmewni]

CHAPTER II of Genndy Tartakovsky's Star Wars: Clone Wars turned 20 years old today, and 7 years ago I couldn't help but notice that storyboard artist Bryan Andrews seemed to sneak a reference to this episode in The Powerpuff Girls episode "Live and Let Dynamo"....

which Bryan also storyboarded....

Same energy? Yes, but there is NO way that this could be just a coincidence....

Tweet version here.

[cryptotheism]

The city was drowned slow, its ankles tied to the moon as the tide rose to meet it.

Blind and reaching, its tongue cracked and split with thirst, its thousand iron throats burning with salt and pollution, desperate to drink, the head of Teleth Avaris sank deeper beneath the waves. A hundred more hydroelectric dynamos. A thousand. Ten thousand. Breathe in, let the sea flood your lungs. Let it pressed its weight upon the sternum of Teleth Avaris, and beat upon it with a tidal rhythm to spur its thousand hearts. Breathe out, feel the salt burn as it escapes your lungs. The sea staunches the atomic piles, distilling itself on the city's fever heat.

There was an impulse to abandon the low places, to cast the unwanted and unworthy into the dark, to climb higher, to build on their corpses. But not here. The pumps refused to die. As the great sprawl of Teleth Avaris was cast to the sea, the pumps continued. Time would march on. The low places were scoured of their materials, their technology, their working masses. Yet the pumps continued. The city built higher, piling itself above the waves, sealing its orphaned thralls in its cast-off shells. Yet the pumps continued. For all the filth the high places cast into the dark, the pumps continued.

The gates were sealed, the old blocks quarantined. Networks of communication died. Diagnostic panels went dark. The nature and structure of the deep was lost to history. Yet the pumps continued.

Time passed. Records were lost. Official inquiries into city infrastructure returned only ancient blueprints and useless maps. Inquiries became expeditions, surveyor teams sent deep to explore the abandoned cargo shafts. The roots of Teleth Avaris became unmapped places. Theories turned to stories. They said the old machines are still running, whole automated armies of maintenance drones. They say legions of lobotomite husks keep the water-wheels turning. Stories turned to legends. They say the deep is a lost nation, a rouge state that lives of the trash from the city above. They say it is a bunker, a guarded enclave where the old lords are cloistered in paranoia. Legends to myth. They say the deeps are a holy kingdom, a paradise where life is long and beautiful and the old world never died. They say it is a city of ghosts, a hell where sinners turn the dynamos for all eternity. Expeditions became pilgrimages. Yet the pumps continued. There was something in the deep.

Slaves combed through the runoff. Prisoners and lobotomites on stilted prosthetics picked life debts in the processing basins, minds mirrored along cybernetic proxies under careful watch. They worked without rest, their hands whittled into probes for testing the value of bodies and machines. Rigged overseers in military armor scanned for mechanical faults and disobedience as field techs kept watch over minds and circuitry.

Time passed. Peasants worked the processing fields. Children born with tall shins and smooth dense flesh sang as they trawled the processing basins. Plumber-knights patrolled the far marches. They returned with songs of strange beasts and great hunts. Irriation-sages tended to the forest reefs where the bodies necrosed to crops. The abandoned processing basins bloomed with lilies in the summer, roots tangled with old bones and neurocircuitry. The king was dead.

Lay-clerics divined wisdom from the bodies in the water. Salt-spoiled bones and corroded motherboards became syllables of the divine hymn. Discarded knuckles were whittled to dice for children's games. Bloated stomachs were dried and tanned for ballgames. It was winter in the deep and the water was cleaner, cooler from snow-melt on high. The Holy and Sacred Order of Water Treatment wore cloaks woven from synthetic furs and reclaimed silver wire. They did not need to, but it helped fight the chill. The druids built shrines of pseudo-driftwood and terracorals about the diagnostic stations. They would sit in silent meditation beneath the wireless towers, relay-staves thrust into the wires in communion with the diagnostic spirits. It would be a good harvest this year. Long live the queen.

At the root of the pumps were the mourning stacks. Where bodies and machines were piled for processing. Work lines became necropoli, morgues for holy burial. Here augments were cut from flesh, metal sorted by its alloy, organs preserved and reclaimed. At the north lay the tomb of the old king, his body embalmed in resin lest he rise again one day.

Above bloomed the sanctum. In a time now lost to history, it was little more than offices and residences. Old-world bioconcrete melded with terrestrial coral, cut and shaped by secret geometries into a cathedral of municipal irrigation. Verandas of sea-green fan corals, colonnades of deep blue staghorn, great arches of maroon finger coral, all carved over centuries into a living basilica of the pumps. Within, beside an empty throne, sat the queen.

(more)

[1997starcandy]

senator john f. kennedy x reader situationship hcs

a/n: this one’s been rotting in my drafts forever. i swore i’d never post it since i hated it but hey, i figured i’d give the people what they want so here you go, a little something from the vault...

it’s the late 1940s. you and then-congressman john f. kennedy begin a complicated, long-lasting, and intermittent affair that spans well into the early 1950s. how the two of you meet? i’ll leave those details up to you. but make no mistake — he is head over heels for you. 

he calls you in the middle of the night from an oyster bar somewhere on the campaign trail — exhausted, tipsy, unsure where he is, slurring on about how much he misses you, begging you to say it back (you do)

late-night walks around georgetown and dates at martin's

fumbling around on the cape

you have to leave for new york for work, and he insists on tagging along. under normal circumstances, you'd have told him hell no b/c you knew his ass needed to stay in washington. but congress is in recess, his family's out of town, and for once, the human dynamo has nothing better to do, so you let him

he teaches you to sail; you crash the boat (oops) and swear it was the boat's fault, not yours. he doesn't argue, but somehow you still end up paying b/c apparently the son of one of the richest men in america never carries cash

you visit his office, which sometimes (okay, often) ends with the two of you making a mess of his desk. when you bring it up, he just shrugs and mutters something about how it "doesn't matter," knowing damn well one of those papers could determine the fate of the whole country

he hails a taxi one night and asks the driver to take you both to a club out of town — despite knowing it's against the rules. the driver gives him a look like he's grown an extra head, but he smooths it over, "yeah, and i'll make it worth your while, pal. don't worry about me — i'm running for the u.s. senate. i'll figure out the fare. now, how's your sense of adventure?" the driver laughs and agrees, and you can only shake your head, laughing too, b/c somehow, jack kennedy can truly charm his way out of anything

you get tipsy on wine one night and start reading his palm like a fortune teller. he plays along, all dramatic gasps and wide eyes

he steals a photo booth strip of you from a bar and keeps it in his wallet. you catch him looking at it when he thinks you're asleep on the train

he starts calling you ridiculous nicknames like "bug" or "spoons." you protest, but he refuses to explain it. years later, you realize it was just because you once had a nervous habit of tapping your spoon when you were thinking, and he thought it was endearing

he's diehard red sox and you're ride-or-die white sox (yikes?)

in 1953, the news breaks: senator kennedy is engaged to jacqueline bouvier. you are... blindsided? you always lived in the uncertainty of your "relationship," which was never formally acknowledged by the two of you. but it always felt meaningful. now, you question everything. you hate how they were right about him all along. the next time you see him, he tries to explain, insisting it's nothing more than a carefully laid out plan, another chess move orchestrated by his father. he needs the perfect wife — catholic, well-connected, a woman who will solidify his public image and put an end to the whispers about his personal life. but you know well he's never done anything he didn't want to do. sure, he may feel the pressure, but he bends only when it suits him. which means, despite everything he's saying, part of him must want this. want her. and that thought alone makes your stomach turn. he tells you he still thinks about you constantly, but he doesn't know how to say more than that. and so, you leave. b/c you know better than to meddle in the life of a married man — worse, a married man who's practically dead set on becoming the next president.

years later, long after his presidency, you miraculously stumble upon an old letter — written in 1953, right after the news of his engagement broke.

____,

i have turned this letter over in my mind more times than i care to admit, writing and unwriting each word before ink ever touched the page. perhaps that is why i have put off writing for so long — because saying anything at all means acknowledging that there is something to be said. and there is. there always has been. 

by now, i expect you have seen the headlines. i will not insult you by assuming otherwise, nor will i attempt to disguise what has already been written. there is little i could say that would change the facts or your own reservations about me — some of which, i suspect, i deserve. and yet, i find that i cannot leave certain things unsaid. 

it is no small cruelty to be so fond of someone in the wrong lifetime. because i am. in whatever way i have ever been capable of love, i have loved you. i cannot say if that has been enough. i have never known how to say it, how to show it, how to make you believe it without needing to explain myself afterwards. but if i had ever felt for even a second that my life were my own — that i could wake up one morning and make a choice without thinking of my father, of the papers, of the senate, of the presidency — then i would have chosen you. a thousand times over, i would have chosen you. 

and so, should you choose never to see me again — a decision i could neither fault nor resent — know that i shall recall nothing but the best of you, for the best of you is all i have ever known and all i will ever allow myself to remember.

yours, always,

Jack 

and the worst part? the letter was never sent and we'll never know why! maybe he tossed it aside, thinking it was futile. or maybe, by some cruel twist of fate, it just never reached you. and now, when all of it is ancient history, you find it. and you can't even be angry anymore. you can't throw the letter in his face. you can't call him a coward. you can't ask, why didn't you send it? because he's gone. and decades later, you're forced to accept a sort of quiet mourning, a love that now lives only as an echo of something that might have been the greatest part of your life.

REF DO SOMETHING. DO SOMETHING!!!

[bitchy-craft]

Let's Get You Hyped Up | Pick A Pile

Hello and welcome to this Pick A Pile! In here you'll find a few things that'll hype you up. I hope you guys enjoy and find this useful. Do make sure to leave comments down below on your experience! I do want to remind you all that this is a General Pick A Pile which means this is for a lot of people; therefore keep what resonates and leave what doesn't.

Masterlist > Questions > Paid Readings

Pick A Pile!

Pile 1:

You're a force to be reckoned with, a spark of potential waiting to ignite the world with your brilliance. Each day is a canvas, and you hold the brush. The universe has bestowed you with unique talents and dreams, and it's time to unleash them with unbridled passion. Remember, challenges are just stepping stones on the path to your success. Embrace them, conquer them, and let them mold you into the unstoppable individual you are meant to be.

You've already overcome obstacles that once seemed insurmountable, proving your resilience and determination. Your journey is a testament to your unwavering spirit. Visualize your goals, for that's the first step in manifesting them into reality. The world eagerly awaits the mark you'll leave upon it. Your story is one of inspiration, growth, and triumph. Believe in yourself, as others believe in you too. The energy you radiate is infectious, and your impact is boundless.

So go forth with confidence, head held high, and a heart full of determination. Every effort you put forth, every leap you take, is a leap towards greatness. You've got this!

Pile 2:

You're a dynamo of potential, a powerhouse of creativity just waiting to explode onto the scene. Every sunrise brings a fresh chance to seize the day and make it your own. Embrace the challenges that come your way, for they're the secret ingredients that shape your success story.

Life's journey is a rollercoaster of experiences, and you're fearlessly riding every twist and turn. Your ability to adapt and thrive in the face of uncertainty is awe-inspiring. Remember, you're not just a participant in life – you're the director, crafting your narrative with every decision you make.

Dream big and dream often, because those dreams are the blueprints of your destiny. As you forge your path, know that your enthusiasm is contagious and your potential limitless. Your actions have a ripple effect that extend far beyond your awareness, touching lives and igniting the flames of possibility in others.

So march ahead with unwavering confidence, a trailblazer towards your goals. With every stride you take, you're paving the way to the extraordinary. Believe in yourself, as others believe in you too. You're a beacon of light, illuminating the world with your radiance!

Pile 3:

You are a constellation of infinite possibilities, a symphony of potential waiting to be composed. Your uniqueness is a gift to the world, a mosaic of experiences that only you can bring to life. Every day is an opportunity to add a new chapter to your story, and you hold the pen. Embrace the unknown with excitement, for within it lies your next adventure.

Life's challenges are like the weights that sculpt a strong and resilient spirit. With each trial you face, you're refining your character and gaining the tools to conquer even greater feats. You've already shown your capability to adapt and overcome, proving time and again that you're not just a passenger in this journey – you're the driver.

Visualize your aspirations vividly, for the mind is a powerful magnet that attracts the future you desire. As you walk your path, remember that your enthusiasm is contagious, and your potential knows no bounds. The ripples of your actions extend far beyond what you can see, touching lives and inspiring others to chase their dreams.

So stride forward with courage, a trailblazer on the path to your aspirations. Every step you take, every dream you chase, brings you closer to the extraordinary life you're crafting. Believe in yourself, as others believe in you too. You're a shooting star, lighting up the universe with your brilliance!

[lullabyes22-blog]

In FbnF, out of both his 'son in laws' who does Silco hate more? Viktor or Ekko?

Given Silco's mile-wide possessive streak re: Jinx, it's hard to imagine him reacting well to anyone at all getting within 20 ft of her…

That said, it's ironically Viktor.

There are a lot of similarities within their differences - former orphans, men with disabilities + limited lifespans, a visionary drive to change things for the better. The way they see Jinx is also through an ironically similar lens:

What a dynamo of potential. What a fascinating anomaly.

What a perfect catalyst.

All of this, taken altogether, triggers a very real "you think you can keep her from me?" instinct on both sides. Viktor believes, strongly, that Silco eclipses Jinx's full capacity to shine bright and improve the lives of thousands. In FnF, he's very much coded as the visionary martyr (contrasted with Silco's visionary villain) - willing to sacrifice himself in pursuit of the greater good, knowing that that, in the end, is the true definition of legacy.

Naturally, Silco sees, in Viktor, the same self-destructive tendencies and the same unflinching belief that the ends justify the means. He also has every reason to believe that Jinx, by pure accident, could end up a casualty of Viktor's single-minded pursuit for a purer, more perfect world - which, to Silco, is anathema as for him freedom is rooted in shades of gray and the ugliness of the real.

It is the latter, specifically, that leads Silco to resent Viktor. He understands the desire to build and protect something, he understands the willingness to do whatever it takes. But a martyr always dies in a ring of blood and is forgotten within a generation.

The only ones who will remember his loss are his enemies, and the children who have inherited the burden of carrying on his mission.

Jinx, in contrast, is a survivor. She must outlive them all and, in a sense, must carry their memories long after their bones are dust.

Jinx, therefore, must walk among the living.

With Viktor, she will walk into an early grave.

Which is where Ekko comes in. And it's a pity that fandom seems unwilling to examine how many similarities Ekko and Silco share as foils, largely because it's subsumed by the more immediate parallels of Timebomb and their teenaged dramas.

(Sssh, I live for their drama <3).

Ekko is, in a sense, the prodigal son who never came home. He is the living ghost of Silco's past: the drive to do good, the impetus to protect, the fierce, desperate desire to leave a lasting impact. They're both revolutionaries, and rebels with a cause, and leaders of their communities. And perhaps the greatest similarity between them is their fixation on Jinx, and how that throws them off their game and makes them second-guess their choices.

Ekko, like Silco, is fiercely protective of Jinx. But unlike Silco, who understands the complexity and danger of Jinx's nature, Ekko sees the childhood friend in her infinite potential for sweetness and goodness, as well as the capacity to use both gifts for the better.

Silco wants to nurture Jinx's barbs and whet her teeth. He wants to prepare her for the long march and the dark times that will inevitably come.

Ekko believes, strongly, that if he can get Jinx to open up and let him in, then there's every chance of her relearning to trust the softer sides of herself. There is every chance she can come home, and be, if not Powder again, then someone Powder might've been, if trauma and fate had allowed.

Silco is deeply afraid, on a fundamental level, of what Ekko will bring to light. He's afraid that his own perceptions of the world will be proven untrue and, with it, all of his carefully crafted snares to keep Jinx close. All his efforts to make Jinx strong; undermined by the boy who will revert her to a needy weakling - except that weakling is happier.

Weaker, yes, but happier.

(What he really dreads is being shown that reliance on others - a community to support you, a family to love you - is not weakness, and that his own terror of abandonment are what ultimately trapped him on the very pinnacle of power he cut throats and trampled ideals to climb. That there is hope for Jinx and, with it, his own redemption).

But Ekko is not a martyr. He's a dogged survivor, and that, if nothing else, Silco respects.

In that sense, I'd say Ekko might actually have a shot of being welcomed past the front door. Viktor would be given an RV and told to stay in the backyard.

Because fundamentally, Silco knows that, in time, his hold over Jinx will falter. He knows his own death is not a possibility but an inevitability, and he knows that, when he goes, she will be lost for a time.

And he wants, above all else, to keep her alive and whole and safe.

In his gut, he knows that Ekko, not Viktor, can give her that. Because where Viktor can only give Jinx the bright but unyielding scaffolding of a new future - Ekko can provide the foundation to build a home upon it.

(And in FnF, Silco is subconsciously prone to gravitating toward 'stabilizing' partners to temper his own volatility. Or, if not stabilize, then at least serve as anchors: Vander's down-to-earth sense of warmth, Sevika's bluntness and practicality, Nandi's unapologetic embrace of his messiness, Mel's mercy and her faith in a greater destiny.)

(It's not a stretch to imagine him recognizing a like-minded partner for Jinx in Ekko)

tl;dr: Silco projects all his sharpest edges on Viktor, and therefore can't see him as a positive partner for Jinx. Whereas in Ekko, he sees sunnier roads untraveled, and can't help but wonder if that's the sort of life she should've had, in the first place.

</3

[sosoribro]

FLIPLINE WONDERLAND AU

so lets get right into it basically moe is an imp and hes from a different dimension. being an imp, he thrives off of mischief and disorder. not necessarily evil.

this is why he was the dynamoe. in his mind, his encounters with ninjoy are nothing more than them playing together.

but gradually his want for chaos increases and increases, until he eventually decides to make the whole of tastyville into what is essentially a playground for him and ninjoy.

and thats why he looks like this

and thats what sets the whole au in motion.

joy on the other hand looks like this

designs for other residents will probably happen soon. however, only residents that do not work outside of the city will be redesigned to suit moe's wonderland. this means that allan and chuck, for example, will still have new designs however they will be very different to one's for espen and mindy for example. this is because people that live in tastyville but work outside of it will have rushed home upon hearing the news of what had happened, despite not actually being there for the change.

oh yeah. the news.

duke and shannon will also get designs, since they would've been investigating ninjoy and the dynamoe beforehand, and will be continuing to try and decipher and report on the situation.

reactions to this change sort of differ. roy is extremely terrified and has gone into hiding. allan and akari have started a resistance of sorts. some customers, like vicky and espen, seem to enjoy it a little, despite it still being very jarring and unnerving.

given the vast adjustments moe has made to the city, finding him has been extremely difficult. his world is constantly changing, so any leads duke and shannon have almost instantly go cold. joy, however, is determined to find him and wont let his ever-changing playground stop her.

if i remember, i'll be sure to get a story written down for this in the form of a fic.

[the-golden-comet]

✨👑Character Profile Tag 👑✨

Thank you for this tag, @willtheweaver , here @paeliae-occasionally , @mundanemoongirl here, @illarian-rambling here, @theink-stainedfolk here, and here @saturnine-saturneight ! 💛✨

Okay, PETER TAKE A SEAT. We’re gonna let BENJAMIN answer this. ✨

Name: Benjamin Matthias Bartholomew

Nickname: Benji

Kind of Being: Human

Age: 21

Sex: Male

Appearance:

“Prince Benjamin was a red-headed dynamo: short hair with long strands in front of his freckled lobes, lining the contour of his soft jawline. A slender-bodied, slightly curved twink dressed in royal purple silk. He, too, had side-swept bangs to cover his slightly-sunburned forehead. His face was also dotted in many freckles that extended down his neck, past his shoulder and arms. He rolled his emerald green eyes as he crossed his arms across his chest.”

Occupation: Prince of Port Mayor

Family members: Father—Matthias Bartholomew (Duke of Port Mayor), mother unknown

Pets: None

Best friend: None

Describe his/her room:

Finally, swinging first his arms over the window pane, then his legs, Peter tucked and rolled inside the lavish room. It was adorned with golden accents, royal purple sheets, and heavily ornamented furniture. Standing quickly, the blonde pirate dusted off his hands and took stock.

“Right….” He looked around the room, observing his surroundings. “….Vanity, check. Wardrobe, check…..hm?” Peter knelt down on one knee and looked underneath the bed. A few sheets were preemptively tied together, as if the person this room belonged to had been planning an escape. “Ah, well that makes my job easy…..”

The Golden Pirate pulled out the makeshift rope, pulling the sheets taut as he tested the integrity of the tied ends. “….Though, whoever made this needs a few tips on tying knots….” Peter reinforced the sheets in his own sailor knots, satisfied that they would hold his weight. Then, he draped the rope of sheets over the bottom of the window, outside the room as they billowed down to a foot above the ground. Tying the other end tightly to the foot of the heavy bed, he secured his exit and got to work scavenging the room for loot.

Way of speaking: British accent, speaks like a royal.

Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude): very dynamic, perpetually pissed off, carries himself like a prince not because he wants to, but because that’s what he had to do in the castle.

Items in his/her back pocket/ purse: nothing

Hobbies: Ballroom Dancing, writing.

Favorite sports: Cricket 🏏

Abilities/Talents/Powers: Bilingual (English and French), somehow being both the luckiest and unluckiest man alive.

Relationships (how he/she is with other people): distrusting, gradually has to warm up to the person

Fears: Megalophobia, Hemophobia

Faults: naive, cynical, lofty daydreamer, idealistic, abrasive, blunt

Has Vasovagal Syncope with triggers from blood (more of a medical condition than a fault)

Good points: fiercely loyal, can stand his ground, knows exactly what he wants, shows bravery in multiple instances of fear.

What he/she wants more than anything else: To be loved by a man who adamantly loves him back, a romantic at heart. To have freedom to love who he wants, and live the life he wants.

Tag! @tragedycoded , @sableglass , @cowboybrunch , @wyked-ao3 , @gioiaalbanoart , @alinacapellabooks , @authorcoledipalo , @mysticstarlightduck , @ominous-feychild , @drchenquill , @finickyfelix , @autism-purgatory , @willtheweaver , @aintgonnatakethis , @moltenwrites , @kaylinalexanderbooks , @agirlandherquill , @astramachina , @leahnardo-da-veggie , @yourpenpaldee , @48lexr , @thecomfywriter , @thatuselesshuman , @rotting-moon-writes , @lychhiker-writes , @davycoquette , @katenewmanwrites , @leatafandom , @thebearthatreads , @tabswrites , @words-after-midnight , @theaistired , @theverumproject , @theink-stainedfolk , @ceph-the-ghost-writer , @cybercelestian , @differentnighttale , @jadeglas , +open tag! ✨

[skyrim-forever]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by the lovely @hircines-hunter <3 and last week by @orfeoarte (I already posted by then so counting it now!)

Tagging:

@theoneandonlysemla @dirty-bosmer @lucien-lachance @umbracirrus @changelingsandothernonsense @firefly-factory

@bougainvillea-and-saltwater @pocket-vvardvark @captain-of-silvenar @ladytanithia @thequeenofthewinter

Hello it's another Wednesday and I bring to you *gasps* a wip not about Theodora and Ondolemar??? 😲😲😲

They have graciously let me write about someone else, I briefly wrote about Aicantar in a fic recently and that got me thinking more about him. Reworked an old oc that I did barely anything with and as I much prefer to read slow burn then write it, they are gonna smash immediately 🤭 Background before this is he catches Vevora (Breton/Dunmer artist) trying to steal a Centurion Dynamo Core, decides not to call the guards. They get talking and she spots a particular ✨romance✨ novel because I've made him a virgin smut reader 🤪 MDNI under the cut because it's me

Oh no. So caught up being charmed by a beautiful woman, he distinctly forgot he very well did have something to hide.

“And is this part of living like the Dwemer as well?” The title is partially covered by her fingertips, gently grasping it by the spine. 

“Um, I, well, you see-” Any and all ability to be coherent has left. Heat rising to his face, Aicantar is sure she notices the flush of embarrassment he now wears. In an attempt to save dignity he turns away, mouth covering the little of his face not covered by his hood. 

“Did I interrupt your evening plans, pretty boy?” He screams internally, why did she have to pick up the book? Why didn’t he put it away? Whole body warm now, he decides to fixate on not passing out. Remain present rather than degrade himself further by going unconscious But he is shamefully curious, did she think he was attractive? Pretty to use her own words? Pushing aside hopes that he too, could be like the Dwemer and disappear to some unidentifiable plane, he asks innocently. 

“You think I’m pretty?” Eyes meet hers for a moment before he returns to sharing at the wall. She chuckles lowly. 

“I do. Well, at least from what I can see.” Oh no she’s coming closer. Running would be even more humiliating but he is sorely tempted too. Even more so when she pulls back the hood of his robes, going so far as to grab his chin and make him face her. “Oh yeah, definitely a pretty boy.” Red eyes half-lidded with a teasing smirk on her face. Vevora was enjoying watching him squirm, words failing him as the feel of her hands is too nice to even think. “Hmm, now what part have you marked here? Your favourite, maybe?” Please no. It was overwhelming enough, her hands touching his face, how close she stood, how his mind wandered as he wondered what her hair felt like. The red tresses a different hue than her eyes, eyes that were now opening the book to the marked section he had spent far too much time reading. 

Opening to the beginning of the chapter, she smirks. 

“Oh this one, I remember this part well.” Another gulp. “But dog-eared pages? Tsk tsk.” 

“Are, are you, familiar with this, this story?” 

“Oh I’m very familiar, I know this novel very, very well.” He doesn’t have time to respond before she is recounting the chapter summary while flipping leisurely through the pages. “Princess Brittgerd sucks Akvid off for the first time, the poor lad was not expecting her to have such an appetite.” There’s something about hearing it from someone else that drives him crazy, a few moments ago he was way too afraid to even notice he was hard, now the ache was much greater than could be ignored. Thin trousers yet, not thin enough as they feel incredibly constricting against his length. The sound of the book closing causes him to jump, nearly grateful for it as a whimper was on the tip of his tongue. “The unsuspecting boys are always the most fun.” The Dunmer looks at him and he’s too inexperienced to recognize her own look of hunger; instead confused as to where she was going with this. “Why are you reading this? You’re awfully cute, I can’t imagine you having a hard time with the ladies, or whoever else you prefer.” Oh. Gently, she places her hand on his chest before slightly gripping his robes. The pull is too much and he whines, wanting so badly for her to keep touching him, staying like this for a bit would be more than enough. So in a daze, he asks nearly the same question again. 

“You think I’m cute?” She laughs and by Auri-El is is lovely. Light, authentic, and most importantly;  directed his way, at the young mer she made melt before her.  

“I do.” She humours his repetition. “You seem like a very sweet boy, is that right?” The hand moves lower, dangerously lower as toys with the thin rope of his belt. A sharp inhale is his response. “What do you think of me?” 

For a fleeting moment, Aicantar believes he can spew something resembling the suave men of his books, something about how even in the harsh Dwemer lighting she looks radiant, completely and utterly captivating him. Yet, any opportunity to redeem his reputation and prove he is more than a flustered mess is lost as her fingers run along his waistband, dipping in along his side. What comes out is a far cry from what he wanted. 

“I, um, um, Miss, um, Miss Raviro, um, you’re-” Thankfully she cuts off his stammering. 

“No need to be so formal, call me Vevora.” 

“Miss Vevora, I mean, um, Vevora.” A bit of strength goes a long way. “You’re very beautiful.” 

“Thanks, you’re too sweet.” She moves her hand for one moment, turning to place the novel on the bedside table. Turning back to him, both hands grasp the collar of his hood, pulling him to her lips. Not absolutely clueless, he had done this several times drunk, liquid courage helping him bridge the gap in his own difficulties, but he was more than content to let her lead. Initially, the scholar is grateful she goes easy on him. Slow pecks on his lips, hands about to move to her waist, he freezes when her tongue swipes across; mouth opening immediately for the other to dive in. The moans and whimpers emitting from him nearly drown out the one from her. She breaks the kiss, allowing an obscene moan to echo off the walls. Another, regrettably louder one escapes him as she traces the outline of his cock, providing delicate ministrations over the agonizingly tight fabric. “Do you have that chapter marked because it’s your favourite?”

“Well it’s, um, quite, um, well-written.” 

“That it is, that it is.” Each word of the iteration is enunciated carefully, slowly drawing it out. “Want to recreate it with me, pretty boy?” 

[professional-d]

Trying to figure out the rest of the general splatoon au headcanons so I'm just gonna ramble a bit.

Yisang: octoling who uses a brush. Used to work for the Octarians when the regime was up and bustling, doing science shit. Eventually his group was informally disbanded and he was left on his lonesome.

Faust: Octoling who uses an e-liter. Likely a fucking science experiment who got let out after the regime ended, or is she still working for the octarians..? It's hard to say...

Don Quixote: inkling who uses the dapple dualies! She's actually a vampire squid, but wearing rochinante hides her little head ear thingies.

Ryoshu: octoling who uses a decavitator. Was moreso involved with the feudalistic Japan side of octoling lifestyle, the whole hellscreen backstory and such.

Meursault: Octoling who uses the dynamo roller. Used to be a part of the Octarians, but then was formally discharged after an incident. Wanders aimlessly in search of meaning, which happens to involve a lot of turf wars, splatting, and general enjoyment.

Hong lu: Inkling who uses some crazy shit Idk. Also part of the crazy feudalism shit royalty stuff. His family is known for being super rich and super crazy. It's a miracle he hasn't been splatted yet.

Heathcliff: Octoling who uses a slosher. Kinda hard being an Octoling orphan in a house full of inklings who hate octolings. He kinda had a bad time about it, at least◽️◽️◽️◽️ was there to help him. Until she died..erm...

Ishmael: Inkling who uses a brella. Was part of a dangerous and dastardly whaling crew, and she is incredibly good at strategizing for just about any conflict. Though she gets silently pissed off as the team ignores her strategies for clam blitz...

Rodion: inkling who uses a shooter. Kinda sorta was a part of a minor group who had distaste for the heavy consumerist society inklings live in and wanted to make a change for it. Then Rodion splatted someone and. Aha. Whoops.

Dante: has a respawner for a head. Nobody knows what their deal is.

Sinclair: Inkling who uses a heavy splatling. Haunted by some inkling named kromer who thinks respawn points are dumb. He has a tendency to go crazy during battle at times.

Outis: inkling who uses a blaster. Great turf war veteran.

Gregor: octoling who uses his..arm. Great turf war veteran. Was hit especially hard by the Octarians falling out of favor. And the modifications they did to him never got undone, no matter how many times he respawned.

Limbus company is a group made up of three teams of four that take on various challenges and do jobs in order to rack in money. They may do work for grizzco, turf battles, or engage in ranked tournaments to further the company's agenda. Unlike other organizations that create teams for up and coming turf battlers, this company sought and selected each member for specific reasons relating to their past , and their connections to the [REDACTED].

The teams are as follows:

Rodion, Sinclair, Gregor, ryoshu.

Outis, don quixote, ishmael, heathcliff.

Faust, yisang, meursault, hong lu.

Dante acts as their respawn point (for non-turf battles) and team strategist wherever they go. At times if things get too messy, the limbus company may send the LCA.

[kvetchlandia]

Henry Miller and Anaïs Nin, Paris Uncredited and Undated Photograph

August 14, 1932

Anais:

Don’t expect me to be sane anymore. Don’t let’s be sensible. It was a marriage at Louveciennes—you can’t dispute it. I came away with pieces of you sticking to me; I am walking about, swimming, in an ocean of blood, your Andalusian blood, distilled and poisonous. Everything I do and say and think relates back to the marriage...

Here I am back and still smouldering with passion, like wine smoking. Not a passion any longer for flesh, but a complete hunger for you, a devouring hunger. I read the paper about suicides and murders and I understand it all thoroughly. I feel murderous, suicidal. I feel somehow that it is a disgrace to do nothing, to just bide one’s time, to take it philosophically, to be sensible. Where has gone the time when men fought, killed, died for a glove, a glance, etc? (A victrola is playing that terrible aria from Madama Butterfly—"Some day he’ll come!“)

I still hear you singing in the kitchen—a sort of inharmonic, monotonous Cuban wail. I know you’re happy in the kitchen and the meal you’re cooking is the best meal we ever ate together. I know you would scald yourself and not complain. I feel the greatest peace and joy sitting in the dining room listening to you rustling about, your dress like the goddess Indra studded with a thousand eyes.

Anais, I only thought I loved you before; it was nothing like this certainty that’s in me now. Was all this so wonderful only because it was brief and stolen? Were we acting for each other, to each other? Was I less I, or more I, and you less or more you? Is it madness to believe that this could go on? When and where would the drab moments begin? I study you so much to discover the possible flaws, the weak points, the danger zones. I don’t find them—not any. That means I am in love, blind, blind. To be blind forever! (Now they’re singing "Heaven and Ocean” from La Gioconda.)

I picture you playing the records over and over—Hugo’s records. “Parlez moi d amour.” The double life, double taste, double joy and misery. How you must be furrowed and ploughed by it. I know all that, but I can’t do anything to prevent it. I wish indeed it were me who had to endure it. I know now your eyes are wide open. Certain things you will never believe anymore, certain gestures you will never repeat, certain sorrows, misgivings, you will never again experience. A kind of white criminal fervor in your tenderness and cruelty. Neither remorse nor vengeance, neither sorrow nor guilt. A living it out, with nothing to save you from the abysm but a high hope, a faith, a joy that you tasted, that you can repeat when you will.

All morning I was at my notes, ferreting through my life records, wondering where to begin, how to make a start, seeing not just another book before me but a life of books. But I don’t begin. The walls are completely bare—I had taken everything down before going to meet you. It is as though I had made ready to leave for good. The spots on the walls stand out—where our heads rested. While it thunders and lightnings I lie on the bed and go through wild dreams. We’re in Seville and then in Fez and then in Capri and then in Havana. We’re journeying constantly, but there is always a machine and books, and your body is always close to me and the look in your eyes never changes. People are saying we will be miserable, we will regret, but we are happy, we are laughing always, we are singing. We are talking Spanish and French and Arabic and Turkish. We are admitted everywhere and they strew our path with flowers.

I say this is a wild dream—but it is this dream I want to realize. Life and literature combined, love the dynamo, you with your chameleon’s soul giving me a thousand loves, being anchored always in no matter what storm, home wherever we are. In the mornings, continuing where we left off. Resurrection after resurrection. You asserting yourself, getting the rich varied life you desire; and the more you assert yourself the more you want me, need me. Your voice getting hoarser, deeper, your eyes blacker, your blood thicker, your body fuller. A voluptuous servility and tyrannical necessity. More cruel now than before—consciously, wilfully cruel. The insatiable delight of experience.

HVM

--

Everyone else seems to have the brakes on… I never feel the brakes. I overflow. And when I feel your excitement about life flaring, next to mine, then it makes me dizzy. - Anaïs Nin to Henry Miller, 1932

[jade-branch-qa]

Surge and Sang-mi step through a wormhole, mostly out of curiosity. All seems normal at first, but both soon notice chatter coming from above them. They looked up and their jaws drop.

"Aw, come on, babe!" Scorching Surge whined, "That'd be so cool!"

"It would also be incredibly dangerous," Burning Blaze scorned, "This is a delicate mission. We cannot start burning things with reckless abandon."

"Ha! Maybe we shoulda left Surge back home with Trip then!" Heated Honey chortled.

"Oh, mye-mye-mye-mye!" Scorching Surge babbled, sticking her tongue out and stretching her lips.

Surge and Sang-mi gasped at all the fire erupting out of her mouth as she talked. Amy, who was sitting on her flaming hammer, seemed to be the only one to notice.

"Uh, girls? We have company," Ashes Amy informed.

All the fiery girls turned around and finally noticed Surge and Sang-mi standing there.

"Oh, it's the me with the tall sister! Check this shit out!" Scorching Surge laughed, fire erupting from her throat as she did before she took a deep breath and let out a torrent of flame straight up into the air. "This is the power of the Sol Emeralds! Pretty fucking neat, huh?"

Sang-mi looked at the flying tenrec, utterly awestruck before elbowing her noticeably less awestruck sister.

"Surge, can you do that?"

"No, I don't rely on gimmicks." Jade Surge grunted as she stuffed her hands into her pockets. "Unlike this moron, I learned my lesson from the dynamo cage."

"The fuck did you just say?!" Scorching Surge yelled, the blue, fiery tenrec suddenly face to face with her interdimensional clone. "Did you call my girlfriend's powers a fucking gimmick?!"

"Surge, calm down." Blaze urged as she placed a hand on her girlfriend's shoulder. "Remember, she's you and what are you really, really good at?"

"Getting a rise out of people..." Scorching Surge grumbled. "She's probably just jealous that she's not immortal anyway."

"Souds more like a curse than a blessing." Jade Surge said with a shrug and the eyes of the amycule all fell on her.

"How could it ever be a curse to be the guiding light for my people for all eternity?" Blaze asked, sounding rather offended at the notion. "It's not a curse, it's destiny."

"For you, sure. You live for others...but for us?" Jade Surge said as she pointed towards herself and her doppelganger. "I'll outlive Sang-mi and Jewel by at least a hundred years as is, knowing that hurts more than I could even begin to describe. An eternity of that? An eternity without them, an eternity without Drippy? That sounds like a living hell."

"Shit...Drippy..." Scorching Surge mumbled as her shoulders suddenly drooped and she stared at her fiery feet.

"You didn't stop to consider your little brother, did you?" Jade Surge sneered. "Too caught up on the hype of your new powers? That's so typical of us."

"Of us...?" Scorching Surge asked as she looked back up, only to find that both her doppelganger and Sang-mi had disappeared from view, no doubt sent back to their own reality.

[animaladorablecom]

🐾 Meet the Mongoose: Small Body, Big Courage 💥

Don’t let the size fool you—mongooses are fierce little dynamos that can take on a cobra without breaking a sweat. 😮🐍

⚔️ Fun Fact: Thanks to lightning-fast reflexes and a special resistance to venom, mongooses are snake-fighting legends in the animal kingdom!

But it’s not all battle—these clever creatures are also social, curious, and surprisingly adorable when they’re not throwing down.

🌍 Found in Africa, Asia, and even parts of Europe, mongooses are all about teamwork, tunnel-building, and living life bold.

🦴 Tiny, tough, and always ready—this is one animal mood that screams “fearless!”

#MongooseMode #AnimalAdorable #FearlessCreatures #SnakeSlayer #WildAndClever #AnimalMoods #NatureFighter #TinyButMighty

[underspacegame]

Welcome starchasers! It's the first week of Steam's Space Exploration Fest, which we're proudly in, and with it comes our next milestone update: 

Faces in the Fog!

This is a massive update that I've spent months prepping for and that adds a huge amount of new content for players of all levels. It's been quite a major task getting it all out, and my cats started to freak out over my own stressing out, of course.

But it's here now, and oh my sweet space baby lord dying-as-they-circle-a-singularity if it ain't a big one. Let's get into it!

UPDATE HIGHLIGHTS:

First off we have bounty hunting! You'll find various bounty boards throughout the galaxy that can be accessed now, which will give you regional postings about various felons, ghosts, and evil clowns that require the tender touch of magical laserfire.

These bounties give you the chance to experience static versions of many storm bosses (such as snakes, living mines, ghost ships, you know the deal), as well as static spawns for many ace pilots and ships with special abilities. But there's more!

Taking on the strongest bounties can net you special new rewards, including ingredients for new weapons and our newest class of heavy weapon: Dynamos! When dynamos are active your ship is far faster and far more dangerous, able to ram through nearby ships for tons of damage or send out an absolute mess of deranged missiles. It's one of our most requested weapon types, which makes me worry about all of you.

Next up is quests! Quests! You know, where the actual content is. We had many many quests and bits that weren't ready to be implemented at launch, and now finally are ready and finally here. Escape from supernatural space prisons, help assist a group of ex-military soldiers take revenge, perform space rituals, solve a medical mystery, rob a starship convention, and more!

There's new rewards, new sights, new finales, and of course, new monsters to face. New quests also mean new dialogue, and there's a ton more ambient dialogue across the galaxy to find.

And finally, party members! All six party members now have their full dialogue trees implemented, but more than that every single one now has certain things they want to do with you on their adventures. Take them where they want to go, learn their life story, and you'll find yourself able to take on new party specific quests.

These character centric stories, once completed, will let you upgrade your existing squadmates, giving them new appearances, new abilities, and new dialogue (of course).

Check out the game here!

[haggishlyhagging]

When I was growing up, most of the families that served as my models were not "happy." Many of them were minature Peyton Places with trauma and tragedy permanent residents. Neither I nor they ever considered the possibility that some of their pressures may have emanated from the family institution itself. Again, my religious teachings affected my perceptions. Unhappiness was the human condition. Man was not meant to be content on this earth, only expected to persevere through trials so he could die and begin his real life. As doubts about certain of my religious trainings mounted, I became less willing to defer my happiness. I wanted control over my own destiny—to exercise free will, by making my own decisions and accepting the responsibility for my choices. But not until recently have I questioned the style of family life itself. Before I was content with the myopic determination that my family, though existing in similar form to everyone else's, would be different—not for me the mistakes of my models. Now I am open to the possibility that for me, at this time, the nuclear family may be exacting too high a price for too little return.

I am not capable of filling every physical, emotional, and intellectual need of even one developing human being, let alone five. Once I thought I was and lived as some superhuman dynamo trying to do so, berating myself with guilt and frustration when I failed. I am fairly relaxed—other mothers speak of my "calmness" and "serenity"—yet I scream at my children inside closed doors, only pride preventing a public display. I overdose them with television. I confuse them with the contradictions in myself—loving and tolerant one day, am impatient and demanding the next, depending upon my frustrations and physical feelings of the moment.

I oppress my kids so I can survive. No one else sees their scars but I know them well. There isn't a five year old in the world that I can't best with sarcasm. I have done vicious things deliberately because we are all trapped by our way of living. So much for my serenity. And I am stable. The kid with neurotic parents has had it. In our culture, it's a one chance shot for children. You are what your parents can allow you to be.

Almost everyone harbors resentments and hurts from their own parents. Most everyone sometimes resents and hurts their own children and carries great guilt and worry from doing so. The isolated nuclear family can put such intolerable burdens on individuals that it is almost impossible to escape this.

We have evolved such a confining, confined unit that we must adjust to it, not it to us. The time that we should be using to fill the needs of the family members is too often consumed by the pressures of merely maintaining the institution.

-Gabrielle Burton, I’m Running Away From Home But I’m Not Allowed to Cross the Street: A Primer on Women’s Liberation

[moonlit-imagines]

warnings: death

a/n:

not requested

You sat in the Mos Eisley Cantina, a secluded booth in the corner did quite nicely as you mulled over the reality that you lived in right now. Your brother—cousin—had made the decision to leave Tattooine with Ben Kenobi, taking you along with him since you’d just witnessed your home destroyed and your parents murdered.

Luke slid into the seat next to you and put his arm over your shoulders as you sank deeper into the uncomfortable chair. “Hey, I got us a ride.” He softly told you. “You wanna get out of this dump?” He squeezed your shoulder and shook you gently, trying to get you to look back up at him but know he’d probably see tears, and maybe the patrons at the cantina would start to get a bit antagonistic again. “I’m right here with you, y/n. I’m really gonna miss them.”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do without them.” You mumbled to Luke. “Or off this planet. That was my family, that was my life…” You finally looked over at the only family you had left and let out a sigh to steady your breath. “What are we gonna do?”

“We’ll figure it out as we go.” He assured you. “That guy over there is getting us off Tattooine, maybe it’s in our best interest.”

“I just wish Mom and Dad could’ve gotten away with us.”

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @gabile18 // @sweetjedi // @retvenkos // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @dontyousassmeok // @dindjarinsspouse // @zoeyserpentluck // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @sheridans-dynamos // @lady-violet // @simsrecs // @xoxobabydolls // @ruvaakke // @simp-legend // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @your-local-simp0 // @elenavampire21 // @pheonixfire777 //

[cliperry]

Zayn, Louis, and Liam at the American Music Awards in LA last year.

BOYS TO MEN

WE'RE NOT KIDS

Few celebrities actually make that jump from teen sensation to adult A-lister, but One Direction have completely nailed the transformation. Harry, Zayn, Liam, Niall, and Louis are ruling the charts thanks to hard work and pure talent. CLEO's Jessica Bailey chats to the men from 1D.

They are hot, they are successful, and it's time you take notice.

Harry Styles stands up, straightens his black, unbuttoned, Jagger-esque shirt, and extends his hand.

"Hello, I'm Harry," he says, his English accent thick. "Can I interest you in a macaron or some sort of beverage? A water, even? No? Now, tell me, where in Sydney did you grow up?"

Yes, the 21-year-old mega-star (who is one-fifth of the dynamo act that is One Direction) is certainly a charmer. The last time he came to Oz, he made headlines for flirting through every interview. And it's easy to see why. It's that penetrating stare and his cheeky grin that makes you forget there's a full staff of media liaisons, videographers, and security in the room.

Story of Their Lives

The first time that we laid eyes on Harry, he was only 16 years old. Even then, he was pretty confident, but he was a kid. Along with his bandmates Zayn, Liam, Niall, and Louis, Harry has experienced unprecedented fame over the last five years. But it wasn't until their latest trip to Oz that those of us over the age of 14 took notice. Why? They've grown up.

The group were shaped into a pop band (complete with perfectly coiffed hair) by Simon Cowell back in 2010 on The X Factor UK. And while they hit the music scene wearing plaid shirts and pastel blazers, today these guys rock out in matching leathers.

"It's a strange situation to grow up in," Liam explains. "You know, we try our best to be role models, but it's difficult. We're 21, 22, and 23 years old. It's hard being this age. We feel the responsibility of having so many followers on Twitter and even more fans."

And then there's all that media hype. For every YouTube video that exceeds 300 million views, there are hundreds of paparazzi and journalists prying on these twentysomethings to make a mint. This usually involves speculating on the boys' love lives.

"Yeah, it can be frustrating," says Niall. "We can't really have friends who are girls, if I'm being honest. But then, on the other side, people have a job to do, so we have to let them write what they want to write, I suppose."

Who They Are... Now

In their new book, Who We Are, the group say they were naive when they started in the industry.

"We started this band with a naive and innocent view of the music business and also of life in general," they write. "We were a bunch of kids who thought it would be a good idea to stand in a queue for a TV show and see where it took us... A few years down the line, we have all become more experienced with our jobs, but we have matured and grown up as individuals. So we can't say we're the same people as those starry-eyed kids who got that break in 2010."

Forever Humble

Even after five years in the spotlight, not to mention performing on some of the biggest stages all over the globe, Harry says he is still surprised by the attention.

"I think (fame has) never been the norm for us, which is a good thing," he says. "The moment that fame isn't weird to you, you've kind of lost all sense of reality."

And Harry says the band will always be grateful for all of their success.

"When you are at school, there is nothing that really prepares you for this. It has been incredible, and we have worked really hard, and it has kind of worked out," he laughs.

"Well, 'kind of worked out' is an understatement, but for five boys who left their parents' house one day for an audition and never returned, it's, to say the least, still a little overwhelming.

"If you told me that this was going to be my life back at the audition, I would be very shocked," Niall adds. "What's happened to us over the last few years is absolutely incredible. To even stop and think that we're going to be touring Australia is just unbelievable."

1D are on tour in Australia this month.

Other Teen Stars Who Made It Big

Justin Timberlake: Like many of his fellow rivals, JT made his singing and acting debut on the TV show The Mickey Mouse Club, Mickey ears and all. These days, this superstar is performing sold-out tours, making platinum-selling records, and appearing in the occasional blockbuster film.

Ryan Gosling: Even when he was singing along to The Mickey Mouse Club theme song, we knew The Gos was going places. The actor (and guy of our dreams) is now a movie star and, most recently, a DILF.

Drake: We know him as a (ridiculously amazing) rapper, but Drake used to be known as Jimmy Brooks on the series Degrassi: The Next Generation.

Taylor Swift: The year of 2009 saw Taylor Swift catapulted into international stardom with her platinum-selling country album Fearless. These days, Taylor's hair is a little bit straighter, and she's hung up the banjo to crack the pop world, but she is still making songs that totally hook us.

WATCH

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