#is the most brilliantly illuminated star

[peterlorrefanpage]

Peter Lorre Article: Silver Screen, August 1935

"He doubtless will be the sensation of the season."

Hear, hear!

Full article spanning 2 1/8 pages:

[End of article]

I had to excerpt this from page 2:

I can picture that rosy-cheeked shy smile and the sparkling brown eyes, but - "bulbous"? NEVER have discerned he was a brilliantly illuminated star? Fie!

[dystopicjumpsuit]

I Know.

A/N: Cursed with insomnia again. Here’s what I wrote last night.

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader (GN; reader has nightmares and nonspecific trauma) 

Rating: T

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings and tags: angst; nightmares (not described); hurt comfort

Summary: Sometimes, the people who have the most complicated history with you are the ones who know you best. Set pre-Skako Minor.

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You awoke with a flinch. Your heart raced as you stared into the darkness, the pulse of it thundering in your ears. Your breath came fast and hard, and you forced yourself to slow down and breathe through your nose. Gradually, your body let go of the panic, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. Not when you knew what waited for you once you drifted into unconsciousness.

You sat up slowly, pausing to clear your head before you slipped out of the bunk. As quietly as you could, you made your way to the front of the Marauder, grabbing your datapad as you passed the data terminal. Judging by the snores, Wrecker and Tech were out cold, but you’d be willing to stake every last credit in your account that your pounding heart had awakened Hunter before you even opened your eyes. Still, he was silent as you moved stealthily to the cockpit.

It was strange to be back on the Marauder after all this time. Familiar, yet different. The squad welcomed you back with varying degrees of enthusiasm—or at least acceptance—but there was a distance between you that had never been there before. A sense of caution, of unspoken but deep vigilance, as though you all felt a compulsion to weigh your words before speaking. The easy laughter, the banter, the closeness and connection—it was though none of it had ever existed.

The faint glow of the instrument panel illuminated Crosshair’s lean form as he sat in the pilot’s chair, arms folded over his chest as his long legs stretched out in front of him. He glanced up as you passed, but said nothing. Outside the viewport, it was far too dark to make out the landscape of the wilderness, but the stars above shone brilliantly through the unclouded atmosphere. You curled up in the copilot’s seat and wordlessly flicked on your datapad. 

You tried to read. The holonovel you opened seemed too daunting, so instead you scrolled through your usual collection of holonet sites for a long while, but your brain refused to process any of the text. Your eyes felt heavy and gritty, and the words seemed to blur together no matter how hard you squeezed your eyelids shut to try to clear your vision. Eventually, you closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the headrest.

“You all right?” Crosshair’s voice was barely audible.

“Can’t sleep,” you whispered without opening your eyes.

“Still?”

“Yeah.”

You both fell silent for a moment. The pilot’s seat creaked as he adjusted.

“Same nightmare after all this time?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

You opened your eyes and rotated your head toward him, only to find that he was already watching you, his dark, intense eyes unreadable in the dim light.

“You ever talk to anyone about it?” 

You shook your head. “Just you. The others—they don’t understand. They don’t know. The details.”

“They still care, though,” he said quietly.

“I know. I just…” You swallowed. “Can’t. I don’t want them to know.”

He didn’t reply, only watched you.

You took a deep, shuddering breath. “I don’t want them to see how broken I am.”

The silence stretched out for a moment, before he replied very quietly. “I never saw you that way.”

Your throat tightened, and your vision blurred for an instant before the tear overflowed from the corner of your eye and slid down your temple. You could barely see a damned thing in the dark, but Crosshair saw you. He always had.

Slowly, he reached out and smoothed the tear off your skin, then he dropped his hand to your wrist and gently but insistently tugged on you until at last you complied with his unspoken request, crossing the short distance to the copilot’s chair and settling onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around you and coaxed your head down to rest on his shoulder as you curled your legs up and around his body.

“I don’t want to fall back asleep,” you confessed, feeling slightly ashamed of your childish fear.

He stroked your hair. “Then… don’t sleep. Stay with me.”

You nuzzled softly against his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. It had been such a long time, but you’d know it anywhere. 

“You don’t mind?”

“Why would I?” he whispered.

The weight of lost time was heavy in the silence before you replied. “I thought you might prefer it if I left you alone.”

His jaw brushed against your forehead as he turned to look down at you. “I don’t mind having you here.”

The tension in your body gradually drained away as you relaxed against him, lapsing once more into silence. He rested his cheek against the top of your head as his thumb traced slow, lazy circles on your shoulder. Your heavy eyes began to drift shut, your anxiety lulled away by the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the steady thump of his pulse beneath your ear.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” you whispered.

His only response was a quiet, brief hum at the back of his throat, but he pressed his lips against your hair. You raised your hand slowly and trailed your fingertips from the corner of his jaw, down the line of his neck, to the notch at the base of his throat, and when you reached his chest, you flattened your palm against him, directly over his heart. His hand closed gently around yours, holding it there, and you brushed your thumb over his knuckles.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispered. “Holding you like this.”

“Me, too.”

You relaxed further against him, and he tightened his arms around you, holding you securely so you didn’t slip off his lap. When you spoke again, your voice was very soft.

“Cross?”

“Mhm?”

You hesitated a moment before you whispered, “Why did we end it?”

He didn’t move, didn’t react, didn’t even change the pattern of his breath, but you could hear his heart speed up at your whispered question.

“I don’t remember,” he replied.

You took a few slow, shallow breaths. “Me either.”

His hand glided slowly up your shoulder until he reached the back of your neck, and he stroked his thumb along the shell of your ear.

“We were good together, weren’t we?” he asked quietly.

You tilted your head and brushed your lips against his neck in a caress so feather-light it was almost imperceptible.

Almost.

“The best,” you whispered.

He swallowed hard, the sound plainly audible to your ears. The two of you sat unmoving for a long, long time, simply holding each other. He took a shaky breath.

“I—” his voice failed, and he fell silent again.

“I know,” you whispered, kissing his neck. “I know.” You pressed your lips against his jaw, and then the corner of his mouth. “It’s hard, isn’t it? Finding the right words.”

The hand on the back of your neck slid up to hold your head, and he turned to gaze into your eyes, your faces so close together that you could feel his soft, warm breath on your skin.

“What can I say that would be enough?” he asked, his voice quiet and unsteady.

You rested your palm against his jaw, feeling the rough, familiar prickle of his facial hair. Your thumb stroked across his cheekbone, then over his lips.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you whispered. “I already know.” You kissed him softly. “I’ll always know you.”

He pulled you closer, cradling your head in his hands as his lips brushed against yours. His familiar taste flooded your senses. The kiss was gentle and slow, his tongue just grazing between your lips before the two of you parted reluctantly. He rested his forehead against yours as he brought his hand around to caress your cheek. 

“Do you think you could ever love me again?” he asked.

You were silent for a moment before you confessed, “I never stopped.”

The rise and fall of his chest paused for an instant, then resumed.

“Neither did I.”

---

Want more Bad Batch fics? I have two for Hunter: First Kiss ficlet (sfw) and "I Wish All Readers a Very Hunter Life Day" (very spicy).

Ragu list:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @mandos-mind-trick @littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @clonemedickix @marierg @idontgetanysleep @moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine @multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam @banksys-rat @skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist @cw80831 @kimiheartblade @meredithroseg @flyiingsly @lightwise @swcowgal

[iwasntstable]

𝗡.𝗦. | 𝗡𝗢𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗧𝗢 𝗚𝗢 | 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗨𝗘_𝗧𝗪𝗢

🗀 C:/PROJECTS/MYWORK/SERIES/NOWHERETOGO [projects] ﹂ [my-work] | in-progress | favourites 　﹂ all | [series] | one-shot | blurb | head-cannons 　　﹂ [nowhere-to-go]

Series Summary: You knew the decision to follow your father into the so-called 'most dangerous Ward' was a dangerous one, but you had to do anything and everything possible to keep him alive. He's the only family you have left. Growing evermore reckless after the death of your mother and blinded by his lust for retribution, this decision is one that will alter the course of your life forever. And the life of a half-ghoul half-human who never thought he'd find himself entangled with the daughter of a former CCG Investigator.

NOWHERE TO GO is a multi-chapter story set in the Tokyo Ghoul universe, centring around Half-Ghoul!Noah and Human!Reader.

Chapter Content Tags: descriptions of violence and gore, brief mentions of death.

Word Count: 1.8k.

Note: Please be aware this story is set in the universe of Tokyo Ghoul, before the events of the manga and anime. It will, however, contain references to content found in the source material. specific content warnings will always be applied at the beginning of each chapter.

✶ [join the NOWHERE TO GO taglist.]

➔read on AO3➔➔ PREV　/　NEXT [coming soon..]

CREDIT › image — 'Tokyo Ghoul:re - Chapter 54' - 石田 スイ (Sui Ishida). › image edit — @iwasntstable (me). › star divider — @saradika-graphics. › short grey divider — @saradika-graphics. › Tokyo Ghoul — created by 石田 スイ (Sui Ishida).

“It has been reported that more violent outbreaks are occurring in the 13th Ward, following on from last week's turf war between two opposing gangs of ghouls. Witnesses describe violent altercations in the streets, resulting in massive damage to property and local businesses. The 13th Ward is no stranger to savage acts of violence, and while ghoul attacks on humans are common, acts of cannibalism between ghouls are also a recurrent sight. We have First Class Investigator Soto here to provide more information. Thank you for joining us.”

“The pleasure is mine.”

“Now, the 13th Ward is widely referred to as ‘the most dangerous Ward’. Could you elaborate for us on why exactly that is?”

“Of course. Now the ghoul population of the 13th Ward greatly outnumbers the human population, not something seen here in the 1st Ward or the 2nd, for example. Due to this fact, there is, quite simply, not enough food for them to go around. And ghouls have been shown to be incredibly territorial creatures…”

“Ugh, it’s just awful, isn’t it?” 

“I seriously can’t believe you’re moving there. Your dad is going to get you fucking killed.”

“It can’t be that bad, surely? It’s probably all just overexaggerated for the news.”

“Yeah, I was thinking that,” you sigh over your cup of coffee. “You two need to chill out. It's not gonna be that bad.”

Kira says your name in that tone of voice that you know means business—the one she uses to scold her daughter—"There are more ghouls than humans over there! To the point they’re fucking eating each other to survive! I meant what I said before, you can live with me until you find your own place.”

“You know I can’t leave my dad,” placing your cup down on the coffee-stained table and rubbing the tense point in your forehead.

“I mean this in the most respectful way possible. You don’t have to be responsible for your dad. If he wants to chase ghouls in the 13th Ward, let him. You can’t put your life on hold or put it in danger just because he thinks he has some righteous quest to single-handedly rid the world of ghouls,” she reaches across the table to take your hands in hers, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders brilliantly illuminated by the setting sun through the window, giving her an almost angelic glow.

“You’re always the voice of reason,” you smile, squeezing her hands back. “But you know it’s not that easy. I can’t lose him too.”

“We know,” Mari adds her hand to yours and Kira’s, her tanned skin a sharp contrast to Kira’s almost translucent hands. “We just want you to be safe. If you ever want to leave, if you change your mind, you know our doors are always open for you.”

“Except mine,” Haru smiles, keeping her well-manicured hands to herself.

“Yeah, your behemoth dogs take up all the fucking space,” you can’t hold back your laugh at Kira’s remark.

“Say another word against them. See what happens,” she smirks back.

“I’m gonna miss you guys so fucking much.”

“We’re going to miss you more,” Haru’s voice wavering like she’s on the brink of tears.

“Don’t you dare disappear on us. We all expect regular check-ins, so we know you’re alive.”

“Or what you’ll set your dogs after her?” Mari laughs.

“Yeah, joke all you want! They could find her! All the way from the 2nd Ward to the 13th and beyond.”

“You don’t need to do that," you laugh. "I’ll stay in contact. I promise.”

The conversation between the four of you is interrupted by Kira’s obnoxious ringtone, earning glares from the elderly patrons lingering in the corners of the cafe. “Crap. Gotta go pick up my girl,” she stands, throwing back the last of her tea, chair screeching as it slides across the floor, your own following suit when you rise to meet her. She pulls you into a bone-crushing hug, pressing all of the love from her body into yours, just in case this is her final goodbye.

“I’ll call you,” you swear. “As often as I can.”

“I love you,” she muffles into your shoulder. “God, okay. I really have to go. I’ll see you guys later, and you! Do not forget to call,” she laughs as you draw a cross over your heart, scooping up her bag and coat in her arms before heading for the door. She gives one last wave, and then she’s gone.

“I hate to do this, but I have to go too. I have work in an hour.” Mari stands as well, rounding the table to bring you into your second bone-breaking hug of the day. 

“Thank you for coming. I love you, and we’ll speak soon, yeah?”

“Definitely. Bye Haru!” 

“Bye! See you later.”

You sit back down, relaxing into the chair. The weight of the goodbyes sitting heavy on your chest.

“I am really worried about you,” Haru says quietly. “That place is so dangerous, and I’m scared your dad is only gonna make things worse.”

“He can handle himself. He served for a decade in the CCG, remember?” You try your best to convince her, but judging by the expression on her face, it isn’t working very well.

“Yeah, he’s the best of the best,” she rolls her eyes. “Or he was until- Look, you and I both know he hasn’t been the same since what happened, and I don’t want his reckless behaviour to endanger you.”

“I know how to handle him,” you affirm. “He’s still grieving. This is the only way he knows how to cope.”

“What about your grief? When do you get the chance to break down?” Her usually warm brown eyes are full of a profound sadness.

“Stop looking at me like you’re never gonna see me again. And don’t worry about me. I can handle my dad, and I can handle myself,” though you speak with confidence, you can feel yourself wavering. Doubting for a moment if the strength you hold is as robust as you claim it is.

“If you get to a point where you need to put yourself first, please know that nobody would ever blame you. None of us,” she says, taking your hand in hers much like Kira and Mari did earlier, squeezing it tightly.

“I know,” you nod.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence, breaking it occasionally with casual conversation and reminiscing on older days. Until Haru too has to gather her things and leave.

“Do you want me to walk you to the station?” She asks as she slides her arms into her coat.

“No, no. It’s fine. I think I’m just gonna sit for a while. Finish my drink.”

She nods, pulls you into your third and final crushing hug of the day, and heads off home through the door. The sound of the little bell dinging follows her as she goes.

You pass the time people-watching through the window. Familiar faces you’d seen around you all your life—faces that you’d likely never see again. Savouring the last of your drink, the scent of the cafe, and the view from your favourite spot by the window until the time comes for you too to leave.

As you fix your hair from under the collar of your coat, you don’t see the customer entering into the cafe as you pass through the door. Bumping face first into a warm, solid chest. The man holds you by the shoulders as you start to topple backwards, holding you steadily in place.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see-”

“Don’t worry about it,” the smooth voice chuckles lightly. “No harm done.”

He releases your shoulders and sidesteps you to enter the cafe so quickly you don’t even catch a glimpse of his face. Leaving you standing on the step as the last light of your last day in the 2nd Ward warms your skin.

The 13th Ward isn’t too far away from where you grew up in the 2nd Ward, separated only by the 3rd. So it didn’t make sense for the weather to be so drastically different. The sky was entirely overcast, forbidding even a single ray of sunlight to pierce through and touch the ground. And it was cold. That was to be expected so late in the year, but you found yourself shivering, the chill creeping into your skin even through your layers. Looking over your shoulder from where your dad was unloading boxes from the car, you just couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on you. 

“There are more ghouls than humans over there! To the point they’re fucking eating each other to survive!” Kira’s voice rings in your head, and you realise you’ve never felt like prey before. Until now.

“Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna help?” Your dad huffs as he drops a box at your feet. Standing up straight and stretching out his back nonchalantly. 

How he could be so calm was beyond you, but then, that might be the peace of mind serving a decade in the CCG brings you. Killing ghouls was second nature to him. “Sorry, I’m on it,” you say, picking up the box and hoisting it high to get a secure grip.

“Take these too, will you?” He drops two metal cases from the rental car on top of the box in your arms, the weight of them instantly making your arms ache. You’re momentarily transfixed, having not seen them in months; an ache settles in your chest too. Pushing the thought out of your head, you focus on the task at hand—getting your possessions into your new apartment before the sky gets the chance to grow darker.

The place wasn’t too small. The CCG retirement package was generous and allowed your dad to find somewhere to live that was suitable for you both, but more importantly, suitable for his needs. The larger pieces of furniture were already delivered by some of your dad's work buddies, traditional movers, all refusing to set foot this side of the 3rd Ward; beds, couches, appliances. All that remained was to make the house a home as best you could.

You managed to get everything inside before sunset, and with the door secured with five deadbolts, you felt you could somewhat relax into your bed after the strenuous move. Most of your belongings are unpacked and organised. The only tasks left were to unpack your clothes and look for a job, though you were unsure what kind of establishments would even be hiring in the so-called most dangerous Ward. Your dad insisted you didn’t need to work, but you knew you both couldn’t survive long solely off his retirement fund.

But as you lie there and the heavy hand of sleep begins to drag you under, you find yourself thinking of your friends, missing them already even though only a day has passed. You drift off to sleep, missing the life you had to leave behind and, weirdly enough, thinking of the stranger whose warm hold you fell into.

PREV　/　NEXT [coming soon..]

[roselyn-writing]

When a rose turns black chapter 16

“The First Light.”

A/N: Been a while since I updated on this novel. So.. Here I am back with another chapter! Also: This chapter include violence, So be warned!

The light dimension was a place of pure beauty. It glistened with a golden glow, and the sky was filled with twinkling bright stars and a vibrant rainbow. The air was sweet and fragrant, and the trees and grass were lush and green. Everywhere one looked, there was a sight to behold. It is a place of reverence and divinity.

At the center of the light dimension, there was the majestic Sphinx; It was a giant creature, with the head of a lion and the body of a lioness. Its bright azure eyes were ancient and wise, and its fur was a deep golden and white colour. It seemed to have an aura of power and knowledge as if it held the secrets of the universe. His gigantic wings were made of pure, celestial light that glowed brilliantly like stars in the night sky. They shimmered with a strong, ethereal luminescence that illuminated the area, The light was so powerful that it seemed to pulse with its own energy, like a living, breathing entity. Every movement of the wings created a ripple of colours that danced in the air, radiating a beautiful, otherworldly glow. Every time someone looked at it, they could feel a sense of awe, Respect, and humility too.

Sphinx is a millennia years old. He watched empires rise and fall, civilizations prospered and withered, and He witnessed all events of history. He is the silent watchful eyes of the universe. He is the ancient wise guardian of the light dimension. He is the light, He is the beacon of hope and justice.

Despite being the light given form, His heart is hardened due to people's dark deeds and darkness. There was this incident that changed his positive and happy demeanor. It made him vigilant towards the people and the visitors in general, It made him question their intentions.

That was when the darkness entered his light dimension uninvited. And changed everything there. But he fought and drove the darkness away but At what cost? His light dimension is forever scarred by the Darkness and the people lost their families to a dark and forsaken dimension called the dark dimension, Such fate is cruel and worse than death.

Sphinx sighted and he gently strolled around the place. He saw the people who lost their families. But there was this child who affected him and made his heart lurch in pain. He knew the girl and why she was crying. He offered them to stay in the light dimension. So they can alter their life span and see their lost family returned.

He moved to the girl and silently offered her solace.

“Child,” He gently called.

The girl looked at him with wide eyes and a tired face, Her face was red and wet with her tears. She sniffed and looked at him.

“I know how you feel,” Sphinx uttered calmly, “But have faith in the light.”

His voice was calm and gentle. Silently offering her solace for her and her broken heart. He wished he could do something for these people. But he only can offer them to stay in the light dimension and await the day when someone comes who is strong enough and brave enough to rescue their lost families from the darkness.

Sphinx finally spoke again; His tone was gentle and caring, “I protected your families in the Dark dimension, No one can harm them there.” He hoped that would ease their pain and make them feel better, They looked at him with gratitude and gratefulness.

Sphinx smiled then he left for his light domain, A loud and strong sound could be heard from him while he was walking. As he walked he raised his head highly;

glimpsing at the light, as he hoped beyond hope that the day would come and everything would be as it was before.

Raqoul, one of the bravest demon warriors in the kingdom, had finally discovered the truth about one of his most trusted allies. Jareth, a demon Raqoul had fought alongside for many years, had been secretly working for Lucifer, their mortal enemy. The news hit Raqoul like a dagger to the heart, and he knew he had to confront Jareth about his treachery.

Every move Raqoul made and his loyalists. Lucifer would know of it. And that made Raqoul to question one of his most elite loyalty. He knew there is a traitor among them and he will find out who. And will make them pay.

Jareth is a 7-foot tall demon, with brown hair and dark grey eyes, an average body build, He is in his form, An average looking man with fair skin and dark black hands due to his dark magic.

Raqoul stormed into Jareth’s place, his voice filled with a mix of anger and disappointment. "Jareth, I can't believe what I've learned. Is it true? Are you truly a follower of Lucifer?" Raqoul said bitterly.

Jareth stood tall, a cold smirk etched across his face. "Ah, Raqoul, I see you've finally discovered my true allegiance. It's a shame you had to find out this way." Jareth sneered at Raqoul.

Raqoul's fists clenched tightly, As he looked at Jareth with his red-fury eyes. "How could you,

Jareth? We fought side by side, and shed blood together, for the sake of our kingdom, And all the while, you were betraying us?"

Jareth chuckled darkly, his eyes glinting with malice. "You underestimate the power of Lucifer, Raqoul, He promised me wealth, power, and everything I've ever desired. Why would I remain loyal to a pitiful Leader like yourself, When I can have everything I've ever dreamed of?"

Rage seared into Raqoul’s heart like an unstoppable eruption of a volcano. He quickly lunged into Jareth. But Jareth anticipated that and sidestepped Raqoul. Which resulted in Raqoul hitting the wall, Jareth chuckled at Raqoul’s attempt to kill him. But Raqoul is far from finished, Raqoul recovered quickly as he spread his huge bat-like wings and flew up in the air. Jareth started to run away but Raqoul flew toward Jareth and tackled him.

Raqoul punched Jareth in his face repeatedly. Blood spurting from Jareth’s nose. Jareth felt the impact of Raqoul’s attacks, and pain washed over him, He had enough as he raised both his legs to kick Raqoul like a mule. Raqoul flew back but he plunged his claws into the cold floor to steady himself from flying away. As he prowled in front of Jareth like a lion.

Raqoul rushed on him and ripped apart Jareth’s face with his claws, Leaving ugly severe wounds, As more blood spurted from his face The latter howled in agony.

Jareth wasn’t going to die like a prey. He grabbed Raqoul’s wrists With his tail and Slashed Raqoul’s belly with his long claws, creating a gushy bloody wound. Raqoul wailed in pain as Jareth headbutted him as Raqoul flew away, hitting the painful wall once more.

“Give it up! Lucifer will win!” Jareth sneered with his venomous tone. As he gazed at the injured Raqoul.

Raqoul swiftly pulled himself up, spit a mouthful of blood, And immediately dashed towards Jareth.

This time, Raqoul didn’t use his wings at all, because there was no need to. Instead, Raqoul sprinted like a cheetah to catch his prey, The force of Raqoul’s power left the ground shattering beneath his feet.

As he closed in, Jareth flailed his wings but Raqoul quickly binds them with his telekinesis magic. Leaving Jareth vulnerable to his attacks.

Raqoul decided to finish Jareth now. He threw a powerful right hook to Jareth, A loud crunch was heard in the place, and Jareth cried as he felt the pain. Raqoul didn’t stop at all, He punched Jareth again but the latter successfully blocked it and Roundhouse kicked Raqoul on his chest.

Raqoul cried as he felt his bones breaking but he didn’t stop, But he tolerated the horrible pain and recovered.

Jareth raised both of his palms and shot dark blasts on Raqoul, Two of the blasts hit Raqoul square on his chest. Raqoul stifled his moans as he quickly recovered from the blasts. He quickly teleported in front of Jareth. He quickly lobbed a shadow mist bomb at his enemy, momentarily blinding him.

He punched Jareth in his sternum, Breaking his rips. Making it difficult for Jareth to breathe.

Jareth tried to kick Raqoul on his legs but he couldn’t do it. Due to the searing pain, the breaking of his bones, And the shadow mist spell.

Raqoul chops off Jareth’s head with his wings. It rolled on the ground and Jareth's body fell in a dead heap.

Raqoul’s hands glowed with red scarlet energy as he shot it onto Jareth’s corpse. It swiftly burned it and encircled it.

Raqoul said nothing as he observed the scarlet flames spread on his former friend's body. Let alone feel something to express his emotions, Of betrayal, Agony, and abandonment.

One more reason for Raqoul to hate Lucifer. He vowed that Lucifer would pay for what he did and he would return it tenfold to Lucifer.

Wordlessly, Raqoul extended his wings and flew away from the scene. He didn’t want to linger here for too long.

In the revered city of Al-Jahra. There is a distinct large, White house that stands proudly in the middle of the city, That’s the house of the Aepel Family, A grandiose display of Arabian-Virginian architecture. The intricate design of the arches and domes mesmerized all who laid eyes on it, while the pristine whitish golden walls shimmered in the blazing sun like a mirage. And the sweet aroma of jasmine and gardenia floated in the air, Creating a peaceful atmosphere. As one approached the house, Its grandeur and beauty were even more striking. It was a sight to behold, a true masterpiece in its own right.

Hadi Aepel and his brother, Massoud, Prepared for a three-night trip to the desert of Al-Makida, A desert known for its ancient history and paranormal history too.

The two brothers are prepared for the journey. They took everything they needed. However, The eleven-year-old, Aliyaa decided to prepare her own bag of supplies and everything, She wore a brown dress with gold accents that made her invisible to the environment. She wore a black headscarf. She is prepared for the journey.

When the brothers bid their goodbyes and started to leave, Aliyaa sneaked behind and followed them.

Farrah: Hadi’s wife, She bid them goodbye and left to do her chores. She looked for Aliyaa but she didn’t find her. In panic, She ran to search for her.

Massoud didn’t notice anything. On the other hand, His brother, Hadi, noticed that they were being followed by someone.

Before nighttime came, Aliyaa hid behind one of the trees, While watching her Father and uncle, starting a campfire.

She tipped-toed her way into her father's brown fur blanket and slid herself inside of it.

Hadi noticed her and muffled his chuckle with his hand. He will reprimand his daughter after they finish their desert journey.

He whispered to his brother and pointed at his brown fur blanket, Massoud noticed there was someone under it.

“This is Aliyaa,” Hadi whispered to his brother. “Pretend you don’t know.”

Massoud nodded his head as he looked at his brother.

Hadi carefully and soundlessly tipped-toed to his blanket and with a quick move he removed it. And he saw his daughter: Aliyaa.

He pretended to be surprised and shocked to see her here. He sat beside his daughter.

“Why are you here?” He asked with a gentle tone.

“Um…. I… Got bored?” She mumbled with an adorable tone and smile.

Hadi and Massoud sighed deeply. They cannot be angry at her.

Hadi looked at her and smiled. “Does your mother know you are here?” He inquired with a gentle tone

Aliyaa shook her head. “No.” She replied.

Hadi hummed as his brother threw more wood into the campfire. “Come close, So we can keep an eye on you,” Hadi spoke gently.

Aliyaa smiled gleefully and she hugged her father with a big smile. “Okay! Daddy.”

Hadi, Aliyaa, and Massoud. They all sat around the campfire. Sipping a hot tea and talking to each other.

Massoud chuckled mischievously. “Aliyaa,” He called with a mischievous tone.

“Have you ever heard about the story of the goat that ate it owner?”

Fear and panicked welled within her. She started to shake. Hadi, Her father noticed this and reprimanded his brother. He hugged her and started to rub her hand for reassurance.

“Don’t tell her that story.” Hadi warned with a serious tone.

Massoud started to chuckle mischievously as he glanced at the frightened Aliyaa.

Aliyaa whimpered and hugged her father for solace. He placed his arms around her to reassure her, While he shot his brother an angry glare.

Hadi gently patted her head. “Aliyaa, It’s just a myth.” Hadi muttered in a soothing tone. “It’s not real.”

Aliyaa breathed deeply to calm herself. Then she took a sip of her tea and savoured its taste. She smiled as she finally calmed down and looked at her father and her uncle.

Hadi smiled knowing that his daughter had calmed down. He also took a sip of his tea, starting to enjoy the moment too.

Massoud stopped chuckling and decided to threw more wood on the campfire to keep it burning.

The trio started to talk with each other until they felt sleepy and they call it a night. They prepared their sleeping bags and slept on them. As they drift to the world of dreams.

[fizzycherrycola]

Alfred & Matt, Stargazing

It’s a clear summer night, perfect for spotting stars. Two brothers bond, sharing science and admiring the universe. I wrote this ages ago for @hwsnabroszine​ and now I can finally share it. Please enjoy!

A Girl Called Hubble

“What’s going to happen to her?” Matthew inquires.

Alfred glances up from his personal telescope, a flashlight highlighting his golden features in the midnight dark. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“The Hubble telescope. Is she...?”

“Oh.” There’s a touch of sadness in Alfred’s tone, which trickles into the soft symphony of crickets, cicadas, and other rural evening sounds. Looking away, he resumes fiddling with the dials on his viewfinder. “I mean, she’s not being decommissioned yet. I think NASA has some plans for joint missions with Webb, so that’ll add a few more years to her life. Eventually though, maybe in a decade, they’ll make an announcement. Most likely... she’ll be set on a course to collide with the atmosphere and burn up.”

Matthew blinks. That seems... harsh, even if Hubble is just a machine.  

He rolls the chunky flashlight around in his hands, an industrial strength thing that Alfred keeps in his pickup truck for emergencies and stargazing nights like this. Its synthetic light cuts through the natural darkness, tracing the outline of fluttering moths and the wild grasses stomped flat by Alfred’s tires. Matthew tilts it to better illuminate his brother’s work and nibbles his bottom lip.

“How come?” Matthew eventually asks.

Alfred hums. “Well, she’s past her expiry date. You've got to remember, some of Hubble’s machinery was built back in the 80’s. If something important fails, like her guidance system, she could become another hunk of space debris, zooming uncontrollably around the Earth. And that’s a huge risk for space flights, satellites, and the ISS. It’s sad, but I mean... it has to happen.”  

He goes quiet for a moment, but not for long. Never for long. In an instant, he turns to Matthew with a big grin on his face, his eyes shining brilliantly behind his glasses. “Hey, want to hear something cool?”

Matthew sighs, but can’t help smiling. “Sure.”

“Did you know that even a tiny screw bolt travelling at 4 miles a second is strong enough to punch through a tank? There’s no atmosphere in outer space to slow it down, so it can just keep going faster and faster. Pretty wild, huh?”

“Yeah. You mention that, like, every single time we talk about space.”

“Wait, really? Damn. I guess I should start throwing some different facts your way! Have I told you about black holes and event horizons?”

“Yup.”

“How about neutron stars? Oh! Or quasars?”

“Uh-huh.”

“...the Goldilocks Zone? You know, there are actually a bunch of habitable planets in the TRAPPIST-1 system. And it’s only 40 lightyears away from Earth!”

“You bring that up literally every time you have a new theory about aliens.”

Alfred tuts. “Well... shit.”

Matthew's smile turns sheepish. “Sorry.”

“S’all good.” Alfred taps open his phone, double-checking his night sky tracking app, mouth twisted into the same, familiar pout from his childhood.

The warm summer breeze overtakes their talk, rustling Canada’s hair and t-shirt. From his seat in the truck bed, surrounded by threadbare blankets and pillows, he swings his feet. Humid air drags up the faint scent of dried corn husks, hay, and whatever else was once grown in this long-abandoned farm field. The sky is gorgeous tonight; barely a cloud to be seen, it glitters with starlight and far-flung galaxies. Alfred picked a good night for skywatching.

Originally, they came out here for a special reason, bringing along Alfred’s private, civilian-use telescope. It is massive, about the size of England’s old armchair, but mobile with its tripod, and probably the most expensive on the amateur astronomy market. They parked Alfred’s truck in the middle of the field, set up his device, and saw it: just a speck in the giant magnifying lens, insignificant against the stars, but it was there. The new James Webb space telescope. A cosmic daffodil with goldenrod mirrors spread wide. A novel machine that will help humanity see and understand the universe.

They stared at it for minutes, then an hour, as Alfred geeked out, listing its many capabilities and functions. But then, after he finally ran out of things to say, after they glimpsed Jupiter and Mars, Sagittarius and Ursa Major, Alfred suggested they stick around a while more to view Hubble when she, too, crosses the night sky.

Despite the heat, Matthew drags a cotton blanket over his shoulders. “That James Webb telescope is going to show us some amazing things.”

“It sure is,” Alfred mutters.

“...Although, I’m a little sad that Hubble is running out of time. She took some amazing photos, too. Right?”

“Yeah.”

“You okay?”

Alfred pauses before giving Matthew a look. “...C’mon dude, you don’t have to make me feel better.” Matthew shrugs. Alfred turns to the sky, the expanse, voice going quiet. “She’s just a piece of equipment. I don’t get all upset over every Ford F-150 that ends up in the scrap yard.”

Matthew picks at a loose thread on his blanket, unconvinced. Having known his brother for centuries, it’s easy to tell when Alfred is being disingenuous. He was morose when the Opportunity rover went dark. Distant, after learning that in 2025, no one will be able to contact Voyager 1. And when he eventually realised that Curiosity sings Happy Birthday to itself, every year, all alone on Mars... well.  

“I think Hubble is a lot more special than a pickup truck.”  

“Meh.”

“Stinky gas-guzzlers.”

Alfred’s lips twitch and Matthew knows he’s on the right track. “Hey, don’t shit-talk my trucks.”

“And more expensive, too. By, like, a few BILLION dollars.”

Alfred’s expression cracks and he chuckles. “Sure, okay. You’ve got me there.”  

A weight lifts in Matthew’s chest and his restless legs swing higher, sneaker laces tapping his heels to the tune of his heart.

Then, Alfred checks his phone once more. He suddenly lights up. Ducking down to look through the scope’s eyepiece, he shouts with joy. “Hey! She’s here! Come on, come over here and see.”  

Matthew’s eyes go wide. He shimmies, sliding off the truck bed and tossing his blanket aside. Hopping over to Alfred, who steps aside, he peeks through the scope, glasses clinking against the viewfinder. And there she is, in all her tin-can glory.  

Surrounded by the dark sea of space, Hubble looks so very small, even with the aid of Alfred’s chunky telescope. Her solar panels are extended like squarish wings, helping her soar high above the world. One of the many machines floating through outer space that fuels imaginations and wins affection, satisfying the universal thirst for knowledge with each photo and landmark discovery.

Grass crunches as Alfred shuffles his feet. He doesn’t launch into a lesson on astrophotography or detail the known nebulae. He says nothing, silence stretching far beyond the atmosphere. Then, murmuring: “She might have been expensive, but she was worth it. She was worth every single penny.”

Matthew rights himself and peers at Alfred’s silhouette. The faint glow of the Milky Way, a great band of lustrous cloud, stretches behind him. Matthew doesn’t raise the flashlight to catch his brother’s expression. He doesn’t need to.

“I’m sorry, Al.”

A dark arm comes up to knead the back of Alfred’s neck. Quietly, he sighs.  

“...Thanks. I’ll be okay. She’s still around for a while longer.”  

The night rolls on, the stars turn overhead, and soon, Hubble is out of sight. Sailing across the sky, lenses facing the distant heavens, dutifully, she will record all she can. Until her instruments expire and her circuits give out, she will inspire Alfred, Matthew, and the entire human world.

End / Fin

~~~

Author’s Notes

I had to fudge a few things, scientifically, in order to make this fic work. Because of its orbiting pattern, Hubble is best seen between the 28th parallel north and the 28th parallel south. So, if you live near the equator, you can easily see Hubble with a telescope. Being further north or south of those latitudes makes spotting it trickier. Despite this, I decided to put Alfred and Matt in a corn field, rather than on a beach at the southern tip of Florida. I preferred the vibe, since corn fields are often connected to outer space in American stories (see: 2014’s Interstellar and multiple films featuring aliens.)

The JWST is also hard to spot. For starters, it’s very, very far away. If you’re able to spot it, it’ll just look like a dot, even with the aid of a telescope. Depending on which way the mirrors are facing, it's visible when it catches the Sun’s rays, or it’s completely black when tilted away. And unlike Hubble, it doesn’t orbit Earth. It orbits the Sun. So, the math involved in spotting it is... way harder than what I can manage on my own. Let’s just pretend that Alfred is a god-king at astronomy and knows exactly when and where to point his telescope to view the JWST.

Being an amateur astronomy nerd, I loved writing this fic. However, I tried not to weigh things down with too much technical jargon. If you're interested in learning more about space (and some of the things mentioned in this story, like neutron stars and black holes), please check out ‘SciShow Space’ on Youtube, or visit NASA’s official website. ❤

[byneddiedingo]

Metropolis (Fritz Lang, 1927)

Cast: Alfred Abel, Gustav Fröhlich, Rudolf Klein-Rogge, Fritz Rasp, Theodor Loos, Erwin Biswanger, Heinrich George, Brigitte Helm. Screenplay: Thea von Harbou, Fritz Lang. Cinematography: Karl Freund, Günther Rittau, Walter Ruttmann. Art direction: Otto Hunte, Erich Kettelhut, Karl Vollbrecht. 

Metropolis strikes me as the most balletic movie ever made. I'm not referring just to Brigitte Helm's fabulous hoochie-coochie as the False Maria, which so thrills the goggling, slavering gentlemen of Metropolis, but to the fact that as one of the great silent films it brilliantly substitutes movement for the speech and song the medium denies it. In addition to Helm's terrific performance as both Marias, we also have Gustav Fröhlich's wildly over-the-top Freder, who flings himself frenziedly about the sets. We may find the performance laughable today, but it's best to watch the film with the understanding that subtlety just wouldn't work in Fritz Lang's fever-dream of a city. Certainly that's also true of the always emotive Rudolf Klein-Rogge, whose Rotwang is pretty much indistinguishable from his Dr. Mabuse. But even the stillest of the characters in the film -- Alfred Abel's Joh Frederson, Fritz Rasp's superbly creepy Thin Man -- are there to provide a sinister contrast to the hyperactivity going on around them.  And then there are the crowds, a corps de ballet if ever there was one, whether stiffly marching to and from their jobs, or celebrating the fall of the Heart Machine with a riotous ring-around-the-rosy. There are times when Lang's manipulation of crowds reminds me of Busby Berkeley's. Lang's choreographic approach to the film is essential to its success as a portrayal of the subsuming of the human into the mechanical. Is there a more brilliant depiction of the alienation of work than that of the man who must shift the hands around a gigantic clock face to keep up with randomly illuminated light bulbs? Metropolis is usually cited as a triumph of design, and it probably wouldn't have the hold over us that it does without the sets of Otto Hunte, Erich Kettelhut, and Karl Vollbrecht, whose influence over our visions of the future seems indelible. Would we have the decor of the Star Wars movies or any of today's superhero epics without their work? There are those who would argue that the film is long on visual excitement but short on intellectual content -- the moral banality, that the Heart must mediate between the Head and the Hand, hardly seems to suffice as a justification for the film's Sturm und Drang -- which weakens its reputation as a masterpiece. But that seems to me to ask more of movies than they were ever designed to provide. So much in Metropolis reverberates with history -- from the French Revolution to the Bolsheviks to the Nazis -- that it's a film we can never get out of our heads, and probably shouldn't.

[a-drop-of-nightshade]

|| Priceless ( Open RP ) ||

Open Rp for all, but also tagging @blackparaderunner & @darkness-around-every-corner

Now when you think of a black market you think of that classic darkened alley way with lots of stalls that sell dark and twisted thing, you imagine tiny cages stuffed with exotic creatures or jars of human parts. However when you looked upon the interdimensional black market you found a space between dimensions, every shifting and changing place, the sky rippling as it moved as not to be caught, stalls and shops spread as far as the eye could see.

The shops were the most popular business’s with each one dedicated to a fresh new thing, there were stands and platforms where slaves and exotic beasts were paraded off and sold to the crowds, people hustled around mostly wearing masks and cloaks to hide their identity although some brave souls did not care. Then there was the centre piece, a huge auction hall for the rarest of rare and it was filled with those who wished to bid for the most expensive and rarest of things.

It was in this hall that the gem found himself huddled in a cell, he could hear the auction proceeding, he heard descriptions rattled off about where the products were found and then the bidding for strange amounts he didn’t understand; but he had roughly gathered that there was a set credit to be used across this place before it could be exchanged into the customers desired currency.

The gem jolted as the cell opened, rough hands grabbed him and he yelped, struggling before he heard a bark, “Careful! That thing is fragile but priceless! Break it and I’ll break your necks!” He did not recognise the voice and he couldn’t see with the black bag over his head, he felt cold metal around his wrists and ankles as he was lifted with ease and dragged along. He heard discussions switching in languages, he felt himself get stripped and heard annoyed muttering before he was forced into new clothes a skin tight black suit that hid the cracks on his body and held him together.

He was put back into shackles that had a connecting chain around his neck that was held by a metal collar, the bag was removed and he was dazed by bright lights only for a black fabric to be draped over him as of to hide him from sight, he didn’t get much of a chance to talk as he was soon pulled onto a circular metal platform.

“And now!” Boomed a voice overhead making him flinch, his back hitting a glass wall as he realised he was in a strange glass tube, he held his chained together hands close to his chest, “We have a real treat for you all tonight! We found this beauty in a strange new world full of fantasy and colour, a world of dragons and orcs! Of beasts of all kinds! Yet this priceless product is one of a kind even there out shining them all!” There was a click before the metal platform lurched and began to rose.

L stumbled but kept his balance, his breath was heavy and laboured and he flinched as bright lights flooded in from a hole above him, he ducked his head and yet his hands began to shine and glitter under the light, the crowed was whispering there were so many and L’s heart sank as he lowered his head, “A living gem! Made of magic and dragons treasure! Who knows what secrets it can find, it holds magic in its veins and most of all, it shines like a star!” All of a sudden the black fabric was ripped off him and he gasped.

The concentrated lights were pointed at the gem and the moment they struck his body he flowed brilliantly, reflecting purple light and sparkling all over, his purple eyes widened confused as his body refracted everything and he truly did look like a star when illuminated.

“Be it a piece for your collection, a pet for your menagerie, hell it even has humanoid body parts for whatever purpose you may like!” The seller chuckled ominously, and it made L shiver, “This priceless gem is starting at a bidding of 1 million credits!” And with that the room exploded into life, L quickly lost track of it all as the numbers went higher the signs flew up and he realised that there was no escape, and he had no idea what fate would befall him.

[raybizzle]

"Polly" (1989) is a made-for-television musical that aired on NBC's "Magical World of Disney." Disney adapted the movie from the 1913 novel by Eleanor H. Porter, "Pollyanna," which Disney originally made a version of the novel in 1960 under the same title. The 1989 version comprises a majority black cast, and Debbie Allen is responsible for the film's direction. Due to the immense popularity of "The Cosby Show" during the mid to late 80s, the actors saw remarkable success in roles outside of their norm. So naturally, Cosby kids was a rating boost for any network that featured them in TV movies or shows. But, this time, Keshia Knight Pulliam and Phylicia Rashad led an excellent cast of actors in one of the most underrated musicals. This film isn't just any type of musical. It's brilliantly performed and well-made. Most of the leading actors and actresses got to sing and dance. Debbie Allen colorfully illuminates every scene with beauty and grace with her choreography, which the Emmys nominated her for "Outstanding Choreography." Included with Pulliam and Rashad are Dorian Harewood, Barbara Montgomery, T.K. Carter, Vanessa Bell Calloway, Brandon Quintin Adams, Larry Riley, and Brock Peters. Notable guest stars also include Butterfly McQueen ("Gone with the Wind") and Celeste Holm ("Oklahoma"). Joel McNeely is responsible for the soundtrack score, which Harold Wheeler ("The Wiz") also supervised. Debbie and her husband, Norm Nixon, composed one of the music numbers called "Stand Up." Some of the tracks are "Shine a Light" (sung by Dorian Harewood and Larry Riley), "Honey Ain't Got Nothin' on You" (Vanessa Bell Calloway), "Something More" (Phylicia Rashas), and "Sweet Little Angel Eyes" (Bandon Adams and TK Carter). I recommend this movie. The music is excellent, and the attire is beautiful. The story is a cheerful one with many feel-good moments. The actors have experience in performing arts, and many came from Broadway. This film has all the essences of Broadway and then some. Director: Debbie Allen Writers: William Blinn (teleplay), Eleanor H. Porter (novel "Pollyanna") Starring Keshia Knight Pulliam, Phylicia Rashad, Dorian Harewood, Barbara Montgomery, T.K. Carter, Vanessa Bell Calloway, Brandon Quintin Adams, Ken Page, Larry Riley, Butterfly McQueen, Brock Peters, Celeste Holm, George Anthony Bell, Michael Peters, Vickilyn Reynolds Vickilyn Reynolds Storyline Set in 1955, in times of racial segregation, a mythical all-black Alabama town called Harrington is owned by the non-sense Aunt Polly (Phylicia Rashad). She believes life is a serious matter and frowns upon any joyful noise. However, things change when Polly (Keshia Knight Pulliam) arrives as an orphan from Detroit. She is a ray of sunshine to a stoic Aunt and a town torn between their affliction between each other.

[first-and-last-neocount]

Whumptober Day 5

After all the kerfuffle on the Whumptober blog over the prompt, I had to pick Hyperthermia for this day, lol.  

This is set pretty far in the future of the Goodbye!AU, a little glimpse of where that storyline is eventually heading. The next few prompts in this ‘verse will double back and fill in some of the gaps, so consider this a teaser for things to come. 

Also, I realised after the fact that I’ve kinda implied they use Celsius on Erna, because the temperature swing between day and night in a desert is more in the neighbourhood of a hundred degrees on the Fahrenheit scale. I’m Canadian, just let me have this one, m’kay?

P.S. I had entirely forgotten that there is canonically a desert somewhere on the main continent until I was rereading BSR with a fine-tooth comb for the mapping project. There’s one single mention of the ‘sandlands’ on page 28. Clearly it was inevitable that I was going to take that info and run with it. XD

Day 5 - Theme Chosen: Hyperthermia

The heat of the wind was the first warning. 

The sandlands cooled precipitously once the sun was down; most nights, it had already dropped thirty degrees by Coreset. What heat did linger was only that which shimmered up from the dunes, rising in gentle waves from the baked sand. This, tonight, was something else; a hot, dry gust breathing fitfully in from the north. 

He scanned the northern horizon warily, eyes narrowed, wings beating a little harder to balance against the unpredictable push of the wind. There were a few low clouds on the skyline, blocking the last of the light from the setting Core stars, but aside from that the night skies seemed peaceful enough. Prima was full, shedding her soft greenish light over the desert, but Domina was a mere sliver overhead and Casca less than half round; with such modest illumination from above, the currents shone brilliantly, flows of liquid radiance winding over the sands below. 

The wind gusted again, and this time he had to shut his eyes for a moment against the swirl of fine grit that pelted him. He blinked away the irritating grains and looked more closely at the clouds on the horizon again. The air was still warming, eddies of heat swirling over him as if he were standing too close to a fire - but when he realised what he was seeing, his blood abruptly ran cold. 

That was not merely a regular stormcloud rising above the sand. 

Cursing inwardly, he tilted his wings, banking into a gradually descending spiral as he turned his gaze on the dunes below. His skin prickled uncomfortably beneath the feathers, the unsettling heat of the air beginning to rouse a deeply-rooted instinctual dread, but he forced himself to focus past the growing unease; within moments, he picked out the distinctive swirling pool of currents that marked a cave’s entrance. Destination chosen, he dipped into a steeper dive, heart beating fast. 

This is not going to be pleasant. 

The ground rushed up to greet him, and at the last possible moment he flung his wings wide, arresting his own momentum aggressively and pitching his taloned feet forward. Giving himself over to the will of the fae, letting go of his sense of self enough to shift between forms, was always a terrifying endeavour; the anxiety that had already gripped him didn’t exactly make it easier, but he forced himself past the fear, flinging himself forward into that mental abyss. 

As always, the currents answered. 

Raw power roared through him, and blue-white fire erupted from the sand below his claws; for one wild, disorienting moment he was formless, feathers melting into the flame as the flood of Erna’s lifeblood sought to drag him under - then his flesh solidified once more, and he staggered, gasping for breath as his heart thudded in his newly-human chest. Though in many ways it was a relief to feel like himself again, there was that tiny twinge of loss he always felt, the quiet ache at giving up the freedom that his wings brought him - but it was buried quickly enough, this time, by apprehension. 

From the ground, it was much more obvious how quickly the storm was approaching. The wind was stronger and steadier, now, whipping over the dunes and sending sprays of fine dust into the air. The ridgeline he had found wasn’t much to look at, a low spine of stone that had once been a mountain’s foothill and was now all but buried in the sand, but it was the only thing dulling the edge of that rising gale; he sought out the mouth of the cave quickly, conscious of the hiss of swirling sand that was beginning to fill the air. 

When that cloud got closer, the untimely heat in the air would be the least of his concerns. 

Thankfully, the opening was narrow but deep, more of a fissure than a typical cave. He pressed deep enough to be certain that it was entirely empty, and to check that the jagged walls were entirely stable; then, assured that he had found a suitable shelter from the coming storm, he finally allowed himself to drop his shields and reach out to the link that hummed, cool and deep and unceasing as a river, at the back of his mind. 

I’m not going to make it back before dawn.

An instant spike of emotion echoed through the link, and the answer came back to him, wreathed in concern. 

What happened? Are you hurt?

He let himself lean up against the fissure wall, the rock warm against his back as a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. 

I’m fine, Gerald. Found a nice little hole in a cliff and everything. Only problem is, there’s a sandstorm bearing down on me.

The Hunter’s vicious mental curse made Damien chuckle out loud. He turned his head to gaze out at the desert, watching the darkly roiling cloud as it approached; it was only minutes away now, and he could hear the rising growl of the wind, laden with its scouring burden. 

Damien, this is no laughing matter, his other half reprimanded him sternly through the link. Do you have any idea how much the temperature can rise inside those storms? The sand is still warm from the sun, and with the friction of the wind - if you’re properly sheltered, it shouldn’t actually harm you, but it’s going to be extremely unpleasant.

Damien sighed, the smile slipping from his face. 

Yeah. I know.

He could feel it happening already, the air around him beginning to tingle with heat as the storm’s leading edge reached out to embrace his place of refuge. From what Gerald had told him when they first came to the sandlands, Damien knew that it hadn’t been like this on Terra - there, sandstorms had been dangerous only for the wind, and the abrasive grit it carried. Erna’s deserts were blanketed in earth-fae, though, and the power infused the grains of sand and volcanic debris that blanketed these lands; tossed against each other in the tumbling winds, that power ignited, and turned an Ernan sandstorm into such an inferno that it wasn’t uncommon for rock formations to end up coated in a thin layer of fresh glass after a sandstorm had passed. 

That extreme heat, though, was from earth-fae making direct contact with earth-fae. Here inside his shelter, Damien wouldn’t be at risk of direct contact with those burning particles - only suffering the excess heat they bled into the air. Already, he was starting to feel dizzy, the air stinging his lungs as he breathed. Swallowing against the growing dryness of his throat, he sank down to sit with his back against the fissure wall, drawing his knees up to his chest and reaching for the link again. 

Any helpful tips for this particular scenario?

Not really, Gerald replied, and Damien could feel the bitter trace of real regret in it. Nothing but the obvious; stay still as much as possible, try to brace yourself for when the lightheadedness comes. Make sure you rehydrate as soon as you can once the storm has passed. A pause, weighted. Do you want me to leave you alone?

Damien drew in a deep breath, feeling the first serious wave of dizziness sweep over him. The storm was at the ridge, now; he could hear the wind howling past the mouth of the fissure, the hissing scrape of thousands of grains of fae-charged sand dragging along the cliff face. The heat came on in waves, stirring a kind of animal panic in the back of his brain, twisting his stomach with nausea and slicking sweat along his skin. 

Moments like this were a keen reminder of how different things were for him, now. There was a time when he would have been entirely unbothered by this level of heat; oh, he might have been sweating a little, but it would have been a minor irritation compared to many of the conditions that he’d faced as a Knight. The overwhelming dizziness and sickness, the clench of fear around his heart - that was a product of his new existence, his hypervigilant instincts warning him that heat meant death and that he needed to escape. A reminder that a sandstorm’s heat, from within shelter at least, was a trivial matter for a human… but he wasn’t human anymore. 

Tonight, though, that thought wasn’t as bitter as it sometimes was. After all, he’d flown to this cave, a feat no human would ever claim. And while there was nothing that could block out the oppressive heat from his awareness entirely, as it filled the cave and wrapped around him, he found that the fresh memory of the cool night wind through his feathers was as good of an antidote as he could ask for. 

No, he sighed, shutting his eyes. Stay.

An entirely different warmth flickered through the link, and Damien felt the Hunter’s awareness curl a little tighter around him, powerful and endless as the coils of an ouroboros. 

Of course.

Deliberately turning his senses away from the sickening heat that rolled through the fissure, Damien sank into his awareness of the link, letting Gerald’s chill power wrap around him instead. The former Knight still couldn’t say he’d made his peace with the way things were now - he wasn’t entirely sure that he’d ever really, truly be free of remorse for how it had all turned out. This, though - the unwavering certainty of Gerald’s devotion, the bedrock of safety and strength that their link had come to represent - was not something he could truly bring himself to regret. 

Here, wrapped in the Hunter’s power, not even nature’s fury could touch him. 

[travelarii]

Miami After Dark: Nighttime City Tours and Hidden Gems Only Locals Know

Miami is a city that truly comes alive after dark. Beyond the sun-soaked beaches and vibrant daytime attractions, there’s a magical side of Miami that shines at night. From neon-lit streets to hidden local gems, City Sightseeing Miami At Night offers unforgettable experiences that reveal the city’s unique charm. Here’s a guide to the best nighttime tours and spots that locals love.

1. Biscayne Bay Moonlight Cruise

One of the most magical ways to experience City Sightseeing Miami At Night is by taking a moonlight cruise along Biscayne Bay. Sail past the glittering skyline, soak in views of iconic spots like the Port of Miami and South Beach, and watch the city lights reflect on the water. It’s a romantic and scenic tour that gives you a whole new perspective of the city.

2. Art Deco Night Tour in South Beach

South Beach’s Art Deco District is famous for its colorful, neon-lit buildings that illuminate Ocean Drive. The nighttime Art Deco walking tour showcases the stunning architecture in all its glowing glory. This City Sightseeing Miami At Night experience is perfect for architecture buffs and those wanting to explore Miami’s historic and trendy side after sunset.

3. Little Havana Night Tour

For a taste of authentic Miami culture, the Little Havana night tour takes you into the heart of Miami’s Cuban community. Explore vibrant Calle Ocho, where you can enjoy live Latin music, savor Cuban cuisine, and watch cigars being hand-rolled. This lively City Sightseeing Miami At Night tour immerses you in the neighborhood’s nightlife and cultural scene.

4. Miami Lights Night Bus Tour

Hop on an open-top bus and enjoy a panoramic view of the city as it lights up after dark. The Miami Lights Night Bus Tour covers Miami’s most iconic neighborhoods, including South Beach, Downtown, and Brickell, giving you a complete view of the city’s vibrant nightscape. It’s one of the best City Sightseeing Miami At Night options for those who want to sit back, relax, and take in the illuminated beauty of the city.

5. Wynwood Walls After Dark

Wynwood is known for its stunning street art and murals, and it’s a completely different experience to explore it after dark. The night tour of Wynwood Walls takes you through the colorful murals, which are brilliantly lit up at night, giving the art a whole new dimension. This City Sightseeing Miami At Night tour is a must for art lovers who want to experience Miami’s creative side.

6. Miami Night Kayak Tour

For a more adventurous City Sightseeing Miami At Night experience, embark on a nighttime kayak tour through the calm waters of Miami’s coastlines. Paddle under the stars, and enjoy the peacefulness of the city from a unique vantage point. The shimmering city skyline makes this a serene and unforgettable experience for nature enthusiasts and adventure seekers alike.

7. Lincoln Road Night Stroll

Lincoln Road is one of Miami’s most famous pedestrian streets, and it’s especially lively at night. A stroll down Lincoln Road after dark offers great shopping, dining, and people-watching opportunities. Enjoy al fresco dining at one of the many trendy restaurants or browse the boutiques that stay open late. This City Sightseeing Miami At Night is perfect for a relaxed, vibrant evening in the heart of South Beach.

8. Downtown Miami Rooftop Bars

For breathtaking views of Miami’s skyline, locals flock to the many rooftop bars scattered throughout Downtown Miami and Brickell. Sip on a cocktail while enjoying the glittering city lights from above. Some popular spots include Area 31 and Sugar at EAST Miami. These rooftop bars offer an upscale and sophisticated way to experience City Sightseeing Miami At Night while mingling with locals.

9. Miami Design District Fashion and Dining Tour

The Miami Design District is a hotspot for luxury shopping and fine dining, and it’s even more glamorous at night. Take a fashion and dining tour through this upscale neighborhood, where you can shop at high-end boutiques, enjoy world-class restaurants, and explore the district’s stunning modern architecture and art installations under the night sky. This City Sightseeing Miami At Night tour is ideal for those looking for a chic and fashionable evening out.

10. Live Music at Ball & Chain

For a true local experience, head to Ball & Chain, a historic music venue in Little Havana. This legendary spot hosts live Latin music every night, with a lineup that ranges from salsa to jazz. It’s the perfect place to dance the night away and experience the vibrant energy of Miami’s nightlife. This City Sightseeing Miami At Night gem offers an authentic and lively atmosphere that locals swear by.

Conclusion

Miami’s nightlife offers more than just trendy clubs and bars. With these diverse City Sightseeing Miami At Night tours and experiences, you can explore the city’s hidden gems and iconic spots under the magic of the night sky. Whether you’re in the mood for a romantic cruise, an art-filled adventure, or a rooftop drink with a view, Miami has something for everyone after dark.

[arg-machine]

Comics at machine HQ

According to the machine HQ blog schedule, it’s almost time for a new list of comics and/or graphic novels that arg’s been reading lately… and so here it is – a new Comics at machine HQ post! In between the last such post and this one, arg has been quite active: he composed new music, posted on Instagram and compiled several monthly playlists.

And comics! arg also read a lot of comics – he read fiction too, but that’s a post for another week! – and here are some that he, like, really enjoyed…

Funnybooks! We got funnybooks! Here are the comics/graphic novels arg has read and enjoyed in the last few months. All titles are arranged alphabetically, and related titles – or titles from related genres – are listed in the Also recommended sections. Keep in mind that a few of these titles are suitable for mature readers only.

“During a golden moment in the early 1950s the stars aligned, and EC Comics lovingly adapted 25 classic Ray Bradbury stories into comics form. Al Feldstein scripted, and all of EC's top artists brilliantly illuminated Ray’s tales: Johnny Craig, Reed Crandall, Jack Davis, Will Elder, George Evans, Frank Frazetta, Graham Ingels, Jack Kamen, Roy Krenkel, Bernard Krigstein, Joe Orlando, John Severin, Angelo Torres, Al Williamson, and Wallace Wood. This special collection features all 25 official adaptations plus an additional ten related stories, with stunning art...”

Also recommended: Death Strikes: The Emperor Of Atlantis, The Bitter End And Other Stories and Dark Ride.

“More than a decade after a disastrous explosion, young Hailey is dropped off by her mum at a holiday camp in a dilapidated shopping mall. Alienated from the other kids, she connects with an eerie older teen named Jen… but soon dark horrors awaken, and the two new friends are caught up in a cataclysmic battle between two terrifying creatures who have been lying dormant all this time.

One of Australia’s most acclaimed young graphic novelists, Chris Gooch expertly crafts a taut and intimate thriller about mothers and daughters, the monstrous and the mundane, and the power of friendship in the midst of catastrophe.”

Also recommended: Complete Ballad of Halo Jones, Alien: Thaw, Indigo Children and Kaya.

“Deep within the walls of Castle Dunsinane, a seed of madness begins to bloom. Spurred on by the prophecies of witches and the whispers of his scheming wife, Lord Macbeth plots the death of his friend, King Duncan. This one cruel act soon spirals out of control, and murder after murder erupt into a wave of chaos and violence that threatens to consume all of Scotland.”

Also recommended: Creepshow, Shock Shop, and Shook! A Black Horror Anthology.

“When the sun goes down, our minds invent all manner of horrors that may lurk in the darkness. Danish cult illustrator John Kenn Mortensen draws inspiration from this shadowy realm, and his pen skillfully conjures these eerie visions on paper.

Open this book (if you dare) to encounter a frightful horde of sepia-toned spooks — witches, wraiths, goblins, giant spiders, wild boars, evil clowns — and countless other unspeakable creatures. Hairy, hooded, or horned, they peer at you ominously through dead eyes, their fangs bared.” Highly recommended!

[Y’all know who the “horde of sepia-toned spooks” above reminds arg of? Of course – his Copiers of Hindustan buddies from Mastodon! And don’t worry, they’ll probably take this comparison as a compliment!]

“In a climate crisis-ravaged future metropolis, a grumpy, smoke-belching, cigar-chomping, hotrod-racing robot is a twelve-year-old girl's only hope. Together, can they outrace the chasing Robo-Cops with an invention that might just save humanity?”

Also recommended: Sap Hunters, Under-Earth and The Colonized.

“Tom Gauld returns with his wittiest and most trenchant collection of literary cartoons to date. Perfectly composed drawings are punctuated with the artist’s signature brand of humour, hitting high and low. After all, Gauld is just as comfortable taking jabs at Jane Eyre and Game of Thrones.” An absolute favourite, this one!

Also recommended: The Site, Flung Out Of Space, Lomax - Collectors of Folk Songs, Whistleblowers..., Yazidi and The Dyatlov Pass Mystery.

The dynamic crime-writing/drawing duo is back! “A boarding house full of druggies. A neglected housewife. A young girl who thinks she's a superhero. A cop who wants to be left alone. And a private detective looking for a runaway girl. These stories collide one fateful summer in Where The Body Was, a tale of love and murder in the suburbs, told from a dozen different points of view. All the neighbours on the block have an opinion about the murder and how it happened, but which of them is telling the truth?”

Also recommended: The Reaper And Other Stories, Oswald's Body and Slash Them All.

…and now, here’s machine HQ’s Retro Pick for this post, a freaky little book straight from 1990:

“What happens when a scientist discovers a way to make cloning easy?; Nothing good as the inventor discovers when his invention is used on him! His quest to stop the conspiracy-minded thieves and retrieve his invention makes this one of the wildest suspense tales yet!”

Phew! That’s it for this new comics/graphic novels list, visit The Apocalypse Project on Mastodon, twitter/X and on tumblr, and don’t forget to check out the machinstagram [links elsewhere!] too!

Header image features artwork from Army of Darkness Movie Adaptation [30th Anniversary Edition] and from classic 1990s Predator comics.

[fairycirclesandhawthornbranches]

Shepherd's Crook: I

It was late at night and all the world was at rest. Outside the tavern was a velvet cloak wrapping itself over the land in its serene vastness. Aside from the warm glow of the tavern, there was no other lights around to obscure the moonlight, and the stars twinkled brilliantly above.

The tavern was a humble structure of stone and thatch. Each of the windows and doors were carved from oak. The most striking parts of the Tavern was the lush garden wrapping around the building with all kinds of herbs and vegetables - and even a few finely fruited apple trees hung over the pathways leading to the main road. The front door was illuminated by a pair of lanterns to guide weary patrons to the doors even in darkness, and to fit in the theme of the Tavern’s namesake, the lanterns hung off of Shepherd’s Crooks carved into the door’s frame. The front was a beautiful set of heavy oaken doors, with fine brass handles, and the scene of sheep and shepherd relaxing in their field was carved into the door itself.

Behind the Tavern and its garden was a small barn that let out into a large pen - where during the day the Tavernkeep’s Son would watch over the sheep that originally gave the place its name. Even at this time of night one could hear the occasional baa-ing from inside the barn.

Most of the upstairs windows were dim now that the sun has set beyond the horizon - the patrons inhabiting the rooms were tucked into the beds.

Light escaped through one open door, propped open by a stuffed duck, one that could be mistaken for a real one if not for the faded floral patterns of its fabric. It was a well worn little doorstop - often patched and stitched with whatever Ida - the proprietress of the Crook - had on hand to mend the little fellow. Most of the damage would come from angered drunken patrons getting kicked out for trying to start a fight or arguing over their bill. 

This would be an annoyance for some - but she found herself amused whenever someone would actually break their toes trying to kick the doorstop out of anger. The regulars that would stop by on their travels to and from the Forest and the nearest Town knew that she had sewn a brick or two into the belly of the faux fowl - just so it would look nicer propping the door open on hot days - but she always made a note never to warn someone causing her business trouble. She even had a small wooden board hanging near the front door, solely for carving a tally every time some lout injured themselves in their tantrums. It was nearing twenty as of this night.

Ida let out a soft, almost glum, sigh as the Grandfather clock struck twelve. She was staring at the wooden tally board with a still annoyed expression. “I was so sure that scrawny fella’ was going to kick it.” “Difficult to kick it when you’ve got him in a headlock.” Her companion across from her remarked with a cool and even tone of voice.

Ida turned her gaze from the tally board to a tall and lithe elven man dressed in simple and rugged hunting attire. His figure was handsome, his hair long and white with strands braided back to keep from his face, which would make sense if he hadn’t been wearing a mask. She has never once seen him without it through the few months she has known him now, not to eat or drink, which left her curious. But Ida was a lady who had her own sorts of secrets she wouldn’t want people to pry into - so she never asked. She just accepted he had a reason and it was all his own. As his red gaze met her own, she spoke again. “True. I guess throwing him face first into the dirt out front is payback enough for barking at Dante the way he did.”

Ida turned and spooned up a plate of Shepherd’s pie and slid it to him - and placed a room key beside it. “Here, Darion. This is for calming Dante down after that. He mentioned you checked on him while I was chewing that bugger out.” Darion stopped himself as his initial reaction was to protest he hadn’t asked or paid for either - but he knew better than to reject a gift. So he just plucked up the room key and the plate and offered a bow of the head. “Dante is a good young boy. I saw that it wasn’t his fault for that man spilling his drink, as he was just walking by when that man suddenly turned around without looking.”

Ida glanced at the plate in Darion’s hand, “No intention of eating down here again.” She thought before brushing it aside. She decided it was no offense and had no reason to mind it. “Bring the plate downstairs when you’re done eating. It’ll get taken care of.” Ida plucked her bottle of cream and poured a little into the glass to set above the fireplace.

The Huntsman gave a nod and retreated upstairs to his room. The Tavernkeep turned towards the last of the dishes in the basin and began to wash them all out and set them aside on racks to dry. As she set the last tankard aside to dry the window before her shuddered and was thrown open by a gust of wind. 

There was a beautiful creature leaning on the sill who was staring intensely at Ida. She vaguely resembled an Elf, but had much more plantlike features.Her skin was pale and just a touch too pink to look human, her hair was a soft purple like the flowers of a Rosemary bush, and her eyebrows were long and antennae-like - and they were currently furrowed in concern. It was Rosemary, the one that watched over the Tavern, and it looked like she really needed Ida’s attention. “A girl. Collapsed in the garden.” She spoke softly.

Ida tossed down her dishcloth into the sudsy water and quickly ran out the garden door towards the spot Rosemary had drifted to. At her feet was a youthful girl, maybe only around eighteen, unconscious on the ground. The state of her made it clear she had been wandering for days. Her nightgown was dirtied and tattered, feet covered in dirt and had blisters, and her lips looked dry from a lack of water. “Poor dear - lets get her inside and cleaned up.” Ida knelt down and lifted her up into her arms and made for inside.

Rosemary trotted ahead of them and opened the door for the two to enter and locked it behind them. She rushed to the bath to get warm water started - which was not a problem with a little magic she did possess. “Not too much water, just enough clean so we can just use a cloth. I’d rather spare the poor girl a full drenching when she’s not doing well.” Ida said softly as she set the girl to sit leaning against the bathtub.

Rosemary nodded and fetched a clean cloth from the cupboard and helped Ida carefully clean out any bloodied blisters so they could be bandaged. When Ida brushed aside the girl's hair so her face could get a gentle dabbing - she paused as she saw pointed ears. “Elf?” The Spirit leaned in closer to the girl and stared for a moment - before she shook her head and gave a gentle shrug. "Smells of humans." She whispered. “Well, she sure isn’t human.” Ida remarked. She glanced down and took notice of a great tear in the back of the nightgown she wore, the tears were around the middle of her back.. Her brows knit together, “Poor girl… But no signs of blood. Think she could have been kidnapped?” Rosemary just shook her head gently and gave a shrug as she finished up the last of her bandaging. “I hope not.” She said softly. Ida let out a soft sigh. “We’ll try talking to her when she wakes. Could you please find a change of clothes for her? I think there’s a dress that should fit her.” She spoke as she once again lifted the girl. The Spirit gave a nod and drained the bath before she left the room to go looking while Ida took her to her own bedroom to tuck into a bed. Ida looked over the girl one last time before blowing out the candles and closing the door. It was time for sleep. Questions and answers could come with the sunrise.

[bleedingheartstrings]

Starlight

When you have depression,

you find yourself finding hope in the littlest things.

Because even a pinprick of light is illuminating when everything is dark.

Because you just want to see even a single star again. 

You love the stars.

But the sky has been dark for years.

Dark like it is inside of you,

dark like your pupils,

they've always been too big for your eyes,

so you always looked scared.

You are scared.

You're always scared.

Scared that that pinprick of light will go out like a candle flame on a windy day.

You guard it from the breeze with your shaky hand

and hope that you,

the person who is barely keeping themself alive,

can protect this tiny, flickering candle.

You feel like you're all skin and bones,

inconsequential.

Like the wind will blow right past you as if you weren't even there

because sometimes you feel like you're not.

Most of the time you feel like you're not.

Like you are the shell that the real you left behind

when they decided that this wasn't worth it anymore.

You're trying to find yourself again,

but you don't know who that is.

You don't remember.

Did you ever know?

Depression is a fog filling your head,

stuffing itself into all the little crevices in your brain where you used to live.

And you find yourself desperately in the need of a lighthouse.

So you build yourself a lighthouse.

Some days it's a bunch of clovers growing in a crack in the sidewalk,

some days it's the leftover pizza in the fridge.

Whatever you have around will do,

 as long as it keeps you going just a little bit longer.

But some days,

 the wind is just blowing so strong,

and you feel so weak.

Rain and tears are sizzling at the flame's edge 

of the little candle that you tell yourself is a lighthouse.

There are rainclouds blocking the only star in the sky 

and you're sure that everything's gone wrong for the last time and this is it.

On those days you must remember that lighters exist for a reason.

Candles can always be lit again.

And even though you can't see the stars,

they are there somewhere lightyears away,

burning brilliantly enough to warm their entire solar systems.

And your whole lifetime's worth of tears

 could never even come close to dowsing those flames.

You must remind yourself that living for the little things is okay,

because at least then you are living.

You will be alive to see the stars again.

And they will be so beautiful,

that you will be crying for a completely different reason.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

“One of the [emails] that was so frightening was one of my coworkers sent an email affirming the first email, and then it said ‘and I look forward to the responses from everybody else who has not yet responded.’

And that really sent a chill down my spine. Cause I went ‘oh, we’re being watched.’

And the threat is always that you’re going to be accused of being a racist if you don’t agree with what’s being said.

There’s a play by Arthur Miller called ‘The Crucible.’

In ‘The Crucible,’ Arthur Miller dramatizes the Salem Witch Trials as a metaphor for what happened during the McCarthy era.

And one of the things that’s happening during the Salem Witch Trials is people are falsely accusing other people of being a witch. And then saying ‘I’m not a witch’ actually makes it worse.

This thing with accusing people of racism in the theater is the same thing that happens in ‘The Crucible.’ And it was shocking to me to see people acting out ‘The Crucible’ in real life, who know better than to behave that way.”

--

https://www.fairforall.org/ray-v-new-42/

Kevin Ray works as a teaching artist for New 42, a publicly-funded performing arts organization in New York City, where he delivers art workshops to students across the city.

Beginning in 2019, the work environment at New 42 became permeated with insults, stereotypes, and discrimination based on skin color, all under the guise of “anti-racism.” The discrimination was pervasive and aggressive, consisting of over seventy emails, countless workplace training sessions, and other incidents. The following are just a few examples:

Segregating employees by skin color for workplace meetings and diversity training sessions.

Claiming “placing White folx in interracial dialogue is like placing pre-algebra students in a calculus class” and “White people need something akin to a remedial course.”

Distributing materials filled with demeaning stereotypes, including that “white” behavior is characterized by “not listening,” “denial,” “defensiveness,” “lack of inquiry,” “either/or binary thinking,” and “not owning one’s white group identity.”

Accusing the “white group” of “replicat[ing] the worst facets of dominant culture.”

Claiming that “whiteness…divides each and all of us from the earth, the sun, the wind, the water, the stars, [and] the animals that roam the earth.”

Berating “white” people for “demanding to be seen as an individual and not as a part of the white group.”

Beginning meetings with the ritual of having employees state their home address and apologize for living on land stolen from Native Americans.

Circulating an email demanding that “white” employees pay reparations to a “black” colleague.

On numerous occasions, Mr. Ray asked New 42 to stop these discriminatory acts. Instead of doing so, New 42 refused to give him any further work assignments.

Mr. Ray has now filed suit against New 42 in federal court, alleging violations of his civil rights under federal and New York law.

--

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17250.The_Crucible

"I believe that the reader will discover here the essential nature of one of the strangest and most awful chapters in human history," Arthur Miller wrote of his classic play about the witch-hunts and trials in seventeenth-century Salem, Massachusetts. Based on historical people and real events, Miller's drama is a searing portrait of a community engulfed by hysteria. In the rigid theocracy of Salem, rumors that women are practicing witchcraft galvanize the town's most basic fears and suspicions; and when a young girl accuses Elizabeth Proctor of being a witch, self-righteous church leaders and townspeople insist that Elizabeth be brought to trial. The ruthlessness of the prosecutors and the eagerness of neighbor to testify against neighbor brilliantly illuminates the destructive power of socially sanctioned violence. Written in 1953, The Crucible is a mirror Miller uses to reflect the anti-communist hysteria inspired by Senator Joseph McCarthy's "witch-hunts" in the United States. Within the text itself, Miller contemplates the parallels, writing, "Political opposition... is given an inhumane overlay, which then justifies the abrogation of all normally applied customs of civilized behavior. A political policy is equated with moral right, and opposition to it with diabolical malevolence."

==

Wokeness is a universal solvent.

[1engele]

daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 5. faster

Previous | Next

[warnings: SMUT (it's dry humping), fast driving]

"are they driving you forward or crazy?"

— When you opened the passenger door to Sal's father's car, it squeaked and nearly snapped off of its hinges.

You froze in fear. "Oh, shit. Did I break it?"

Sal leans over the console from his spot in the driver's side of the vehicle and takes a split second to process. "Oh. Nah, it does that a lot."

You breathily laugh and climb into the passenger seat, pulling the half-broken car door shut. You shifted in your spot and passed your eyes over the interior of the vehicle.

"It smells good in here," you commented, breathing in the scent of mint.

He looked over at you. "Really? That's weird—I don't think he has any air fresheners in here.."

You paled and quickly realized your mistake. You'd just inadvertently smelled Sal and mistook that for the scent of the car. "Oh? Hmm, yeah, weird."

Sal pressed his foot on the brake—you knew this much because it made an audible whining sound—and stuck the key into ignition before turning it. The vehicle's engine became alive, rumbling the car and vibrating the seat beneath you. "Usually that takes multiple tries," he comments.

"When else have you drove?" You asked, your eyes following his untroubled movements.

Sal then shifts the gear into reverse and began to pull out of the parking space. Not before placing his right hand on the back of your seat. You blinked, a chill like ice sliding down your spine.

"Uh, well—this isn't a common thing for me to do," he turns his head to look over his shoulder as he rotates the steering wheel. "I've driven a couple of times. At night, sometimes I'll take the car to the convenience store. I've also taken it to just.. drive."

There's a ghost of a smile on your lips. "You seem like the type of guy that finds it hard to clear his head."

He glances over at you. "You're right. Once something gets in there it's hard to get it out."

"I get it," you reply. "I'm an overthinker too."

Once he'd straightened the vehicle and shifted the gear into drive, Sal drove out of Addison Apartment's parking lot and pulled out and into the road.

The streets were dark, tranquil, calm... the only sounds that could be heard were the blowing of the breeze and the rotation of the car's tires. You began to count the tall streetlights on the side of the road as they rhythmically passed, their illumination casting a brilliantly golden sheen over your skin.

The engine rumbled beneath you. It felt nice. It sent what felt like electricity through your thighs.

These were the moments that felt like you weren't real. Like nothing around you was real—no one around you was real... like nothing mattered, because none of it existed.

Sal says your name. Your head is rested against the seat as you move it to look at him. "Are you okay?"

You blink slowly. "Hm? What do you mean?"

"It's been a while. You haven't said anything."

How long had you been counting lights? How many lights had you counted? Why couldn't you remember the number that had been floating around in your mind?

"Oh," you breathe. "Sorry. I got lost in thought."

You meet his eyes before your attention moved to the rest of him. The way his hands clenched around the black leather of the steering wheel, his rings glinted beneath the light of both the moon and the streetlights that shone into the dim interior of the car. The way his pale arms were visible because he'd previously rolled up the sleeves of your sweater, and the way they were almost translucent—if you looked hard enough, you'd see the blue and green veins.

The slight spread of his thighs and the skin you saw beneath the rips of his jeans.

His Adam's apple, and the way it bobbed as he swallowed the pool of his saliva beneath the scorch of your eyes.

It wasn't hard to decipher. What you felt for him was pure need. You didn't know if he felt the same, you didn't think you ever would, and you couldn't find yourself to care.

You wanted him so bad. You wanted to feel his hands all over.

You looked away and squeezed your thighs together.

Fuck, you thought.

Shaking your head, you moved in your seat, towards the window.

"What are you doing?" His voice called, but you barely heard him over the whistling of the wind as you picked yourself up and off of the seat and sat yourself down in the open window. Your hair blew in your face as you turned your head and watched the road—the white lines painted onto the asphalt as they disappeared beneath the car.

You breathed in, but the current of air was so fast and hard that you found it hard to inhale.

Sal yells your name. "You're going to hurt yourself," he warns, a hint of pleading in his tone.

"No, I won't," you call back, tightening your grip on the handlebar you used to steady yourself and leaning back. "Go faster, Sal."

"You-"

"Please!"

Silence, all but the breeze, before the wheels began to rotate quicker. The wind hit your face harder, and you quickly found it easier to just hold your breath instead of trying to breathe.

You laughed. "Keep going!"

You turned your head upward, the stretch of your neck facing the sky. You looked up to the midnight blue sky and all of the stars that inhabited it.

There was nothing better than this moment.

You felt the grasp of desperate fingers around your ankle. His rings were cold on your bare leg. Once again, that feeling like ice slid down your spine. It took a moment for you to process the fact that Sal had placed his hand on you to ensure you wouldn't fall to your death.

He wouldn't be able to catch you, though—you'd fall too fast.

"I won't fall, Sal. I trust you."

"You shouldn't trust me," he calls back.

You smile up to the heavens and at the stars that blanket it. "But I do."

It wasn't long before your eyes caught onto the oncoming headlights of an approaching vehicle. Your eyes widened just a bit, and you ducked back into the car and returned to your seat. Sal retracted his hand and returned it to the steering wheel.

When the car had passed, he looked to you.

"You'll end up killing yourself one day."

The rotation of the tires began to slow. The car slowed into a cruise, as Sal made a turn and you began to drive through a more inhabited street. You looked around at the houses on the block as they passed—there wasn't even one person in sight.

Nockfell was asleep.

"I'll be okay."

Sal drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Silence follows for a bit. You finally muster up enough courage to say something.

"Sal," you murmur, wringing your hands together.

He turns his head and meets your eyes. His gaze is wonderfully blue, even in the darkness of the poorly lit interior of his father's car. He rotates his thumbs over the leather of the steering wheel.

"Can you pull over for a minute?"

Once again, his hands slide over the shape of the steering wheel. You follow his movements with your eyes—and you're nearly shaking with anxiousness and anticipation.

He obliges your request and pulls into a shaded spot on the side of the road. You're out of the neighborhood now, and the vehicle is sitting on the side of a main road. It's a bit dark, though, in a spot the golden light of the streetlights don't touch.

You watch him shift the gear into the park. The car comes to an immediate still.

"What's-" he starts, but he hastily grows quiet. You move towards him, crawling over the console that separates the both of you. You listen to his unsteady breaths as you place your right knee beside his left thigh and settle into his lap.

You've straddled him.

He meets your eyes—his gaze is wide, unsure. His pupils are blown and he's most likely struggling to process what's happening. "Y/N.."

Your palms rest against either of his shoulders. You slide them down his arms until you've reached his hands. You cautiously pick them up and slowly move them toward your lower body. He exhales against the mask, slowly, as you shape his palms around the curves of your hips and then retract your touch.

Your bare thighs press against his denim-clad legs. You raise your hands again, slide them past his hair and softly cup either sides of his neck. He's really warm.

"I'm sorry," you breathe. "Do you want me to stop?"

Heat, fiery, and too, too hot pools inside of you whenever his fingers tighten over the material of your skirt. "Not really."

You glance downward and settle your lower half fully onto his groin. Your ears are almost ringing as you slowly roll your hips over him.

Thank god you'd chose to wear a skirt—with boy shorts beneath, obviously—today, or else you wouldn't have been able to feel anything.

"Sal," you murmur, sliding your hands over his chest and gripping the material of your sweater he wore to give yourself more grip. The friction only gets better the harder you grind yourself down onto him.

"Shit," he breathes, his now warm palms moving up to your waist and tightening into the place below your ribs.

You lean into him, your breasts pressing against his chest as you bring your mouth to the flesh of his neck and latched onto it. He made the sweetest sound as you passed your tongue over his skin and began to suck a bruise into his complexion.

When you let go, you licked the saliva off and pulled back, and then allowed yourself to place another hickey just beside it.

This was the only sexual experience you'd ever had in your life, and you knew it was his, as well. Everything you were doing was what you felt like doing and what your instincts screamed out at you to do.

Before you realized it, he'd reached behind his neck and unbuckled the restraints of his prosthetic. After he'd tossed it into the passenger seat, he barely allowed you the pleasure of catching your second ever glimpse before he'd pushed you up against the steering wheel and latched his mouth onto the spot just above your collarbone.

Your noise of surprise followed into a whine as he sucked a mark into your flesh. Your sounds only heightened in volume as he began to grind himself up into you.

"Ah," you gasped, the seam in his pants rubbing into that bundle of nerves between your thighs exactly right. You wrapped your legs around him. " Like that."

He hummed against your skin and obliged. As you felt him grind into you harder, you recognized just how hard he was. It was amazing, really—that didn't seem like the type of thing to feel through denim.

Sal passed his tongue over the bruise he left after finishing, just as you had moments ago. He then pulled back to look into your eyes, needy and wanting.

The lust you were feeling was indescribable. You felt warm all over and all you wanted was for him to touch you everywhere.

Before you knew it, your mouth was on his. The kiss was hot and hungry and different than what you'd imagine kissing would be like. It makes sense, though—Sal wasn't like the others. But it was perfect, and you wanted more of him.

You could admit, though—you hadn't expected having your tongue in Sal's mouth would be a factor of your day when you'd woke up that morning.

When you'd both pulled back from the kiss to breathe, you immediately felt that knot that had begun to form inside of you begin to unravel itself.

You held onto him tighter, your words breathy and your lips wet. "Sal," you breathed, both a warning of what was to come and a want to keep going.

"I know," he replied. "Me too."

Before long, followed by one last deep roll of your hips, your entire body paused before you felt yourself finally tip over that cliff and reach that high you'd been chasing. You cried out as you pressed yourself into him, your legs twitching and trembling.

He followed your lead moments after you reached your peak, reaching his own. He buried his face into the flesh of your neck and muffled his groan as his hands shook around you.

After that, you both allowed yourself to be still for a minute, panting and desperately taking in the air.

"Fuck," Sal gasps, leaning back into his seat, his chest rising and falling hastily. "You literally made me come in my pants."

You met his eyes and smiled. He stared into your gaze for a moment.

"Did you.." he began, searching your face.

"You couldn't tell?" You replied, laughing quickly. Your legs were still twitching on top of his. "Yeah, I did."

He lets his head fall back and inclines his head upward. "Holy shit, Y/N. Did- did you have this planned the whole drive?"

Your lips twitched. "No. It just happened suddenly."

Sal chuckles, and shifts in his seat. His hands are still shaking as he pats your hip. "Okay. Get back in your seat so I can take us home."

You oblige, return to your seat, and wondered what exactly all of this meant.

[lostinthelightss]

we could leave the christmas lights up 'til january (lover, ch. 1)

Nina had always loved the Christmas season in Ketterdam...

Nina had always loved the Christmas season in Ketterdam, even though Kaz reminded her at every turn that it wasn’t like her Ravkan holidays. No, when you lived in Kerch, every ‘holiday’ was still in service of Ghezen, and though the twinkling lights scattered throughout the city were Nina’s favourite part of the winter after the Feast of Sankt Nikolai, she was all too aware that business still reigned supreme in this city.

Still, when given the opportunity to walk along the embankments under the lights for Matthias’s first winter in Kerch, she’d jumped at the chance. They’d stopped at a vendor’s booth near their apartment that was selling warm spiced wine, and the alcohol, combined with Matthias’s arm curled around her shoulders, pressing her into the side of his body, had kept the chill away from her bones. Thankfully, the presence of the ocean typically held most of the extreme weather at bay, so they didn’t have any snow to contend with, but the wind off the canals still managed to be harsh and unyielding if you weren’t careful.

Now, as they finally reached the main road, hundreds of sparkling lights were strung every which way, from lamppost to lamppost, across and around the walkways, illuminating every inch of the paths.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Nina sighed, the heat from her breath steaming as it came into contact with the cold air around them.

“Yes,” Matthias replied, his hair shining positively golden under all the lights. “It reminds me of Tustärjna,”

Nina turned to look up at him, furrowing her brow. “Tustärjna? I’ve never heard of that.”

“It’s an old tradition. Most don’t practice it anymore, but my grandmother does, every year,” Matthias said simply. “She would light candles every night for a week, and place them in the windows to beckon good spirits to the household. Then she would make food to place on the doorstep as an offering, and we would recite prayers before bed, and on the last night, all the lights in the house were darkened, and we would watch as the stars appeared in the night sky, and if we were lucky, Djel would send a snowfall, accepting our offerings and prayers, and the good spirits would remain with us until the new year.”

“And if he didn’t?”

Matthias smiled wryly. “It was Fjerda, Nina, darling. There was always a snowfall.”

And so, a few weeks later when the Christmas season was over and the new year was fast approaching, Nina announced that they would be celebrating Tustärjna that year. Their lights remained in the windows instead of candles, and on more than one occasion they’d forgotten about the offerings left on their porch, and Trassel managed to treat himself to a second dinner, and most nights Nina forgot at least part of the prayers, but they were happy to do so. On the final night, they huddled together on their couch, both watching as the stars slowly winked into existence as best they could over the brilliantly lit city.

“Happy Tustärjna, Nina,” Matthias whispered into the night sky.

“Happy Tustärjna, Matthias.”

The next morning when they awoke, they would open their eyes to see a truly miraculous sight. For the first time in decades, snow had fallen upon Kerch.

. . . . .

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