#tips-to-set-up-solar

[luveline]

could I please request a remus x reader that isn’t used to affection and cries at being called a pet name <3

—Remus calls you lovely, so you cry in his back garden. fem

You hold your hands out to the fire pit, relieved when heat kisses your palms and your arms to the elbow. Summer nights are supposed to be warm. Not in Wales. 

The decking under you groans as multiple pairs of feet cross it. Someone steps off by your legs and moves further into the garden. Solar lights illuminate the space and a battery powered lantern lights the patio table where Sirius hosts his championship of Speed. 

A pair of shoes stop by your legs. They step down and a body sits next to you tightly, thigh to thigh, no want for space. “Hey,” Remus says. “Are you cold?” 

“Not really.” 

“Did you bring a jumper?” 

“I’m not cold,” you laugh. “Of course I did, though, it’s upstairs.” 

Staying with Remus and his friends has been fun so far. The idea of spending a few weeks of your summer between your second and last year of University at Remus’ house had felt daunting when they suggested it, but you’ve had nothing but fun so far. It’s nice to have friends. Nicer to have patient and gentle ones.

“You can have my jacket? Wear it over your shoulders like a cape.” 

“No, thank you. Really.” 

Remus takes your arm. Gives it a quick rub with his thumb until his hand moves down to yours. He feels your fingers, his palm soft, before he returns to his personal space. “You’re not too cold. I’ll ask James to put another log on in a bit.” 

“All the food is keeping me warm.” 

He grins. Brown eyes, brown hair, lashes of firelight on his cheek. “Are you having a good time?” 

“Of course I am.” 

“Yeah? Will you tell me if you’re not? I know it’s weird staying somewhere else. Even if it’s just that the bathroom makes you miserable or you need extra socks.” 

“It’s like I’m on holiday with all my best friends,” you say lightly. 

“You are on holiday with your best friends. I’m not, ‘cos it’s my house, but this is the definition of a holiday.” 

“Thank you, for inviting me.” 

Remus puts his arm around your shoulder, and he kisses your temple with a gentle smile. “I wanted you here, lovely. We all want you here.” 

His arm falls away. It’s just amicable affection, you know that, but it’s more than anyone’s given you in a long time. You’re surprised he’d want to; you must feel a deep, deep tenderness for someone to call them lovely like it’s their only name, and to kiss their forehead with a smile already in place. 

You pull the inside of your bottom lip between your teeth. It’s precious, to be wanted. To have someone as special as Remus show you what you mean to him plainly. You’ve had a great day filled with nice food and good friends, and now you’re warming your knees by the flickering fire pit in the Welsh countryside, stars emerging above you, the moon a pinky nail by the mountains. 

You tip your face into your hands. 

Remus brings a hand to your back and draws a shape without comment, but his hand flattens, and he feels it loud and clear when you sniffle. “Dove?” he asks softly. 

You raise your head quickly, sniffling again as you wipe hot tears off of the hills of your cheeks. “Sorry.” 

“Did I upset you?” he asks, sitting up straight. “I’m so sorry, what did I say?” 

“No, no, it’s nice. It’s nice, you’re always so nice to me.” 

“You’re upset because I’m nice?” 

“I’m just not used to it, that’s all.” 

“Not used to it,” he says, frowning. His brows set. He’s nearly stony.

“You’re the nicest friend I’ve ever had.” 

“Can I give you a hug?” 

You nod, shivering as he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side, no room left between you. His cheek smushes into the side of your brow, a heat like the fire warming you, the two of you listening to the sound of wood embers popping. 

He makes a sound somewhere in his chest and pulls you closer again. Impossibly, he shifts, and his second arm comes around to turn his side hug into a proper one, as though he’s changed his mind about it just a few seconds in. You turn into him without apprehension. 

“You’re not used to it. Do you like it?” he murmurs. 

You press your face to his jaw and neck. Your arms act of their own accord, tightening behind his back. 

“You should be used to it, someone like you. You should be so used to it that it bounces straight back off you again.” He rubs your shoulder. His fingers work into a tight muscle gently. “You lied about being cold, I can feel it now. Your back is freezing.” 

You raise up off of the decking to hug him harder. He’s all for it. 

“We’ll teach you exactly how to be part of the world’s touchiest friend group,” he promises. “You're already a good hugger.” 

[hopeastrz]

STELLIUMS IN SOLAR RETURN CHART tips and tricks on what to avoid and how to benefit from them!˙✧˖°🥮 ༘ ⋆｡˚‧.

CHECK OUT SEPTEMBER SALE: fixed price on any and all of my readings even solar return chart, INSTEAD OF 44, IT'S 17 DOLLARS ONLY.

If you don’t have a 3 planet stellium, see where you have 2 planets, so for example if you have sun and mercury on the 3rd house and mars and saturn on the 7th read about both houses!.

NOTE: enjoy this post and don’t forget to reblog, thank you for your support, lots of love xoxo!! ₊˚⊹౨ৎ🍊.

STELLIUM IN THE FIRST HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF, get a nice haircut, get to know your approach to life more, get to know your direction in life and what may be the next step for you, it’ll be a year of self discovery journey, and it’s the best year to work on your approach of life, you should focus more on your style, see what suits you and what doesn’t, work on your self concept and build your confidence and also it’s the greatest time to find your passion!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Becoming aggressive, moody or be hard on yourself, becoming critical/judgmental of others and yourself!, not taking care of yourself, shy away from spotlight don’t hesitate to!, becoming way too self centered and thinking that people reactions are because something you’ve done!.

STELLIUM IN THE SECOND HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Buy new makeup, perfumes, work on your self worth, start investing money I don’t care even if you have saturn on the 2nd house start a business and earn from it!, since it’s a saving year indicator, one where you look for more stability and comfort, take care of your finances and learn more about how money works!, learn to manage your money right and spend it wisely, become strict!, it’s really good time to start giving old things in order to welcome new ones, like old clothes or possessions, since you may have this urge to keep buying new things, and in order to keep balance learn to donate your stuff, good karma and do that especially if you have saturn!, start singing loudly too it’ll be healing!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Spend wisely so that you don’t cry at the end of the year, don’t waste the opportunity and reconsider you values, set firm boundaries and goals, also don’t waste time and truly buy stuff you only need!, never put your emotional health and security second place, care more about your feelings!.

STELLIUM IN THE THIRD HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Whenever you feel anxious journal, or go on a car ride even if you don’t have a car, call a cab or go on a bus and put your headphones on, but it’s an amazing time to work on how you introduce yourself, or in other words practice how to talk your mind, communicate with people, and how to share your opinions properly!. it’s a great year to learn about the law of assumption, get closer to your siblings or your neighbors, you can buy a new cell phone, get lots of phone calls and even do lots of social activity or finish high school!, if you suck at maths that year is pretty good to learn the basics again and educate yourself on it, also go on short trips find new interests and start a social media account.

WHAT TO AVOID:

DO. NOT. OVERSHARE. learn how to shut up when needed and i know you’ll have an urge to talk to no end but please shut up!, also don’t indulge yourself into gossip it’ll end up being so messy, try to stop overthinking and don’t believe any rumor you hear!, also take care of your siblings!.

STELLIUM IN THE FOURTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

great time to go back to your roots, aka work on your family trauma or stuck issues with your family and heal from them!, you may start a new family, become a parent, settle down, buy a new apartment or move from your home, so to have a fresh it’s okay to forgive them!, heal your inner child and read more about such topics, focus on your emotional needs and understand yourself more, if you’re a fem then lean into it more, get closer to your mother, decorate your room, also it’s a great time to buy properties and invest or learn cooking and baking yummy yummy!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

getting into fights with your parents because they’ll get on your nerves alot!, so for your mental health pay them no mind!, don’t keep your place messy.

STELLIUM IN THE FIFTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

EVERYTHING, i love love loveee this placement and not just for the romance nuh uh, as a woman who doesn’t even date I’ve had the most fun on year i had 5th house placements, go to concerts, festivals and arcades, party and enjoy your life really, you won’t feel like you wasted your money on these things trust me, go to an art course, go to movie theater!, just go out and don’t stay at home!, also enjoy your talents and get ready for the spotlight!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

hookups, unprotected sex since it might lead to sudden pregnancies, getting lost at new places, getting a bit over the head, be careful of becoming narcissistic or kinda full of yourself!, also choose your romance partner carefully don’t rush into love, because you’ll see the world in heart tainted sunglasses this year!.

STELLIUM IN THE SIXTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Think about getting a glow up, it’s the best time for self improvement, plan a routine and follow it, even if you found it hard to build one before it’ll feel easier this year to stick to it!, greatest time to start a series of new habits, work on your body and focus on your health, try building muscles, bulking, going to the gym or walking more, try to journal, read frequently and heal your skin, do some skin care, also get your body checked, get along with your coworkers and focus more on how to make the best out of your job!, routine will never fail you oh and maybe get a pet too!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Avoid over stressing/overtiring yourself, ignore your health or hygiene, avoid going into fights with your coworkers, beware of becoming a people pleaser or give more than you take to others, beware of stray animals, don’t go on a very strict diet especially if you have pluto on the 6th house!.

STELLIUM IN THE SEVENTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

start a business with others, or start your own business, go for that lawsuit, look for that long term partner or take the step for up leveling your current relationship. Incase of getting married enjoy the process of this new era!, it’s the best time to test your partner and see if they’re worthy enough of you!, also enjoy the feeling of becoming extra attractive!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Beware of getting into useless conflicts, don’t be over concerned of others, beware of love affairs especially if you’re already dating someone, beware of getting scammed i’d say don’t take the step of business partnership if you have uranus or neptune influence on the 7th house.

STELLIUM IN THE EIGHTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Embrace new major transformations, get ready for change and allow it!, explore your sexuality more, invest, join the stock market (don’t if you have neptune or uranus), learn spiritual practices because you’ll get more spiritual, best times to learn astrology and tarot, keep secrets, learn more about psychology, do that plastic surgery you’ve had in mind if needed only, also heal your trauma.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Go against the flow and get scared of the rebirth you need to go through, hate the constant change and how intense your emotions could be.

STELLIUM IN THE NINTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Choose a different college major, adopt new beliefs and focus on your higher education, travel more, good time to visit your grandparents, try to stay with them more, learn a new language, learn about you religion and just literally learn anything!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Going to a country without any background of their culture is!, see what’s appropriate to do and what’s not, ignore your university studies or just basically getting distracted!.

STELLIUM IN THE TENTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Time to build your legacy, go all out!, also work on your reputation, time to build the public persona you dreamt of, set long term goals and know what you want to be in the next 5 years, fulfill your responsibilities and get ready for recognition!, also fix your problems with your father, get closer to your bosses, network!, build a professional name and really get serious about building your career!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Doing things that’s harmful or shady for your reputation, avoid suspicious things this year because everyone will have you on the tip of their tongue. Not taking your responsibilities and your work seriously, disrespecting your bosses, procrastinating, not being professional or efficient.

STELLIUM IN THE ELEVENTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Networking for your career, become more social, meet new people, change your toxic friends circle, cut who you don’t feel comfortable with!, go out more, learn about the law of assumption, manifest your desires, GET THAT BAG, start a new social media account or an online business and earn from it!, very high potential for success, watch new films, save to buy a new phone or laptop, know what you hope and wish for in the future to aim for it, make your debut in society and share your work and talents, go to parties, donate to some organizations and also join a club!.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Letting toxic people stay in your life this is the best time to cut them, don’t know anything about politics or have any sense of social awareness, be shy and miss lots of opportunities, not knowing you boundaries when it comes to friends and relationships!.

STELLIUM IN THE TWELFTH HOUSE:

WHAT TO DO:

Heal, this is a rest era for you, take some time for yourself and heal, repay your karmic debts, focus more on your dreams and try interpreting them, see the messages they have for you, tame your subconscious mind for your own benefit, become more spiritual and seriously, take this time to explore your emotions more and your inner self, find your peace and find solitude in yourself!, best time to end toxic habits and relationships, basically anything you want to stop, listen to subliminals, affirmation tapes, cherish your privacy and stay private, reflect on the past and break free from what’s holding you back, also sleep more and attempt a healthy sleeping schedule, oh and eat fish lmao.

WHAT TO AVOID:

Repeating old cycle, this is really an opportunity to change!, ignore your dreams, become isolated, become depressed because you’ll trauma will surface so HEAL, ignore your subconscious mind needs and thought patterns, drink or consume alcohol, beware of addictions.

[v6quewrlds]

imagine joe coming home to your baby.

author's note⠀⁎⠀the vibes are so sinister on here so here's some fluff. part two to this blurb that y'all screamed at me for.

The click of the garage door echoed through the quiet house as Joe's car pulled in. She looked up from her book, the dim light of the bedside lamp casting shadows on her face. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table; surprised to see that it was already past midnight. The Bengals' first road game had gone late into the night, and Joe had texted her that the team plane was delayed.

Her heart fluttered as she heard his key in the lock and the gentle thud of the door closing. She set the book aside and sat up, her eyes searching the darkness for a glimpse of him. Joe appeared in the doorway, his broad frame outlined by the moonlight spilling through the window. He looked tired but there was a softness in his eyes that spoke volumes about his relief to be home. She couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, his backpack slung over his shoulder, the scent of his shower gel still lingering faintly in the air around him.

"Hey, babe," he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion.

"Welcome home," she answered back, her voice low and warm.

Joe dropped his bag and shuffled over to the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He leaned in to kiss her, the tips of his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek. "Did she go down easy?" he asked, nodding towards the baby monitor.

She nodded, her smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "Yeah, I could tell she missed you though. She was glued to the TV, bouncing around in her jumper, babbling every time she saw you with your helmet off."

Joe chuckled, the sound warm and comforting in the stillness. "Yeah, my mom sent me a video. How was she with my parents?" The mattress dipped slightly as he sat down, the weight of his weariness seemingly lifting off him. She shifted her position, her arms wrapping around his waist, her chin resting on his shoulder.

"You know she loves them," she said, her voice filled with affection. "They had a blast. She even tolerates being held by other people when you're not around." She kissed his jaw lightly before adding, "But she definitely prefers her daddy."

Joe leaned into her touch, his eyes drifting over to the baby monitor. He could see Amara's chest rise and fall rhythmically, the little angelic face a picture of peace. "I thought we'd be back in time," he said with a sigh. "Wanted to tuck her in, tell her goodnight."

"I know," she soothed, her hand moving to the back of his neck, her fingers gently massaging the tension there. "You can go check on her if you want? Make sure she's okay?"

Joe nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. He turned his head to kiss her once more before standing up and making his way to the nursery. The door creaked open softly, Amara's little face illuminated by the solar system nightlight on top of the dresser. He stepped in, the plush carpet muffling his footsteps. She looked so tiny in her crib, her tiny hands balled into fists, her eyes scrunched shut in a deep sleep. He leaned over the rail, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. Her skin was warm and soft, and she smelled faintly of baby powder and vanilla.

He lingered for just a minute more, adjusting her purple onesie as gently as he could before turning to leave. She was waiting for him in bed, her eyes closed but her breathing not yet even. He slipped under the covers, pulling her closer into his arms, and whispered, "Goodnight." Her response was a sleepy mumble, her body immediately curling into him.

He wasn't sure when he drifted off, but the sudden shrill of the baby monitor jolted Joe awake. The digital clock on the nightstand read 3:17 AM, a stark red in the darkness. She stirred beside him, mumbling something incoherent. He nudged her gently. "I got it," he whispered, slipping out of bed and into the hallway.

The nursery door was slightly ajar, and the light from the monitor cast a soft glow across the room. Amara's cries grew louder as Joe approached, his heart swelling with a mix of concern and love. He picked her up, her tiny body wriggling in his arms, and sat down in the rocking chair. He cradled her close, her warmth seeping into him, and began to rock back and forth, whispering soothing words into her ear.

"What's going on, pumpkin? Did you have a bad dream?" Joe's voice was low and gentle. He rubbed her back in slow, circular motions, his thumb tracing the line of her spine as he waited for her sobs to subside. Amara's cries grew quieter, turning into hiccups before she sniffled and nuzzled into his chest. He could feel her tiny heart beating against his own, a rhythm that never failed to soothe his own racing thoughts.

"That's better," Joe murmured, kissing the top of her head. He held her close, the rocking chair squeaking softly in the quiet room. Amara's eyes searched his face in the dim light, and he offered her a small smile. "I missed you, princess," he whispered, his voice hoarse from the post-game fatigue. "I'm proud of you for being so good for Mommy. She told me you didn't give her any trouble while I was gone."

She woke to the sound of Joe's hushed speech, her sleep-heavy eyes focusing on the empty space beside her. She glanced at the baby monitor and saw Joe rocking Amara in the nursery. A warmth spread through her chest, watching him in that moment, soothing their baby girl with such tenderness. She slid out of bed and tiptoed down the hallway, the soft glow from the nursery guiding her.

As she approached the nursery, she caught the sound of her daughter babbling softly, and Joe's soothing whispers. She could see his profile in the moonlit room, the love, and dedication etched into the lines of his face as he rubbed Amara's back, pressing soft kisses to her cheeks and forehead between his words. The scene was so intimate, so beautiful, that she almost felt like an intruder, despite it being her own family. She leaned against the door frame, taking in the sight of her husband and daughter, their bond strong in the face of the brief separation.

Amara's eyes grew heavy, and her breathing evened out as she drifted back to sleep in Joe's arms. She stepped forward, watching as Joe carefully set her down and made sure she was snug in her crib. He took a moment, his hand hovering over her tiny chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breaths.

[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - March 15-21

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles! This month’s doodles, like every third month, will be free to the public, so take a look!

1. Zoo 'overjoyed' as lion cubs increase pride to 10

“The litter of rare northern African lions was the second batch to be born recently at Whipsnade Zoo in Bedfordshire, after three arrived in November. […] "The youngsters will grow up side-by-side with their half-siblings, and I'm sure they'll love having an abundance of playmates."”

2. Ohio Appeals Court Rules Trans Care Is Healthcare, Strikes Down Ban For Trans Youth

“The ruling rested on two key findings: first, that gender-affirming care constitutes legitimate medical treatment, and second, that parents have the constitutional right to make healthcare decisions for their children.”

3. Oystercatcher Recovery Campaign Offers a Rare Success Story about Shorebird Conservation

“Fifteen years of coordinated conservation efforts have produced a significant recovery in the U.S. population of the American oystercatcher[….] Schulte predicted that the protection efforts will survive [federal funding cuts] because of the large number of non-federal partners involved.”

4. Fish-tracking robot aims to make fishing more sustainable in developing nations

“A solar-powered, transparent [robot] that can roam the waters autonomously for five days at a stretch, counting fish [… can help fishers] avoid the overfishing [… and] mean less fuel consumed by boats searching for schools of fish, and less degradation of nets due to trawling where there are no fish.”

5. Zoologist Rediscovers Grasshopper Species Believed Extinct

“[… T]he Appalachian grasshopper […] camouflages with its surroundings—perhaps part of the reason people haven’t seen it [since 1946]. [… A zoologist] had seen some reports on iNaturalist that he thought could have been the species[, …] and after surveying several locations, he found a female.”

6. Scaling agroforestry can support fisheries, local food production and cultural practices

“The research found that combining native forest protection (100,000 acres) with transitioning suitable fallow agricultural land to agroforestry (400,000 acres) could [reduce] erosion and boosting nearshore food production by almost 100,000 meals per year[….]”

7. A cell pulls off one of the 'Holy Grails' of biotechnology

“[… A] single-celled alga with a nucleus [… can conduct] a chemical conversion reaction that helps create some of the essential building blocks of life. […] One day, Capone says the nitroplast could be introduced to crops to allow them to convert their own nitrogen without relying on external fertilizer.”

8. FERC: Solar + wind set for a strong 3-year run despite Trump’s sabotage

“Solar accounted for 68.2% of all new generating capacity placed into service in January – more than double the solar capacity added a year earlier (1,176 MW). […] Around 30% of US solar capacity is in small-scale (e.g., rooftop) systems that are not reflected in FERC’s data.”

9. As ghost junk haunts the sea, ‘mermaids’ are fighting back

“Just two days after completing the training, Diana Garcia, one of the Sirenas, helped remove nearly 900 kilograms (2,000 pounds) of [abandoned] ghost gear and debris in the waters near her community[….]”

10. A Nest-Protecting Program Pays Off for Alabama’s Snowy Plovers

“Over the past two breeding seasons, 18 Snowy Plover chicks fledged—a major turnaround after five years of almost no chick survival. [… The team made] a concerted effort to educate the public about the need to give the birds space[, … and] people have not directly caused plover losses in Alabama recently[….]”

March 8-14 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[captainmalewriter]

Bad Sun

It was supposed to be just another day in November when the sun became bad. It happened in a flash, ending as quickly as it started. Look away and you'll miss it. While the sun reverted back to its normal state within a minute, the strange effects of the light the bad sun radiated were already felt by the people who witnessed it.

The news reported there would be a solar eclipse at around 1 o'clock in the afternoon the day it happened. Chris and Marty, two old friends from college, just so happened to be chilling outside at that time.

"Hey isn't there supposed to be an eclipse right now?" Chris asked.

"Oh yeah! Let's watch it?" Marty replied excitedly.

"Dude, no, don't be stupid. You'll burn your eyes if you do that."

"You know that doesn't actually happen, right? Oh shit look! It's happening!!"

Marty turned his head up to the sky, trying to catch a glimpse of the passing solar eclipse. Meanwhile, Chris just shook his head in disapproval and looked down at the ground instead. As he waited for the eclipse to pass, the ground underneath suddenly became flushed in a deep, luscious blue. Confused, Chris looked up and saw that everything as far as he could see had become blue- including the sun itself!

"What the fuck? Marty are you seeing this?"

Marty didn't answer. Chris turned to face him and gasped when he saw Marty's once brown eyes had become bloodshot and shined a brilliant blue. His face was contorted with pain. Chris tried forcing him to look away, but despite being the stronger of the two, he couldn't do it. His gaze was fixed solely on the blue sun in the sky.

Thankfully the blue sun quickly faded away within the next minute, taking its strange blue sunlight with it. Whatever it was, that sun was clearly bad news for whoever looked at it! Chris exhaled. He thought it was over, but soon realized he was wrong when Marty still had bright blue eyes.

"Ugh... Uhhhh..." Marty groaned. He was shaking, breathing heavily too.

Then, out of nowhere, Marty started growing taller. His legs lengthened until he hit 6'2 in height. As he went through his sudden growth spurt, Marty's quads and calves thickened until he had a pair of muscular legs to call his own. The shorts he was wearing suddenly became too tight, which left little to the imagination as his junk grew bigger too. Even when flaccid, Marty had a thick cock tip that poked through the mesh of his shorts, almost like it demanded you look at it. As Marty continued growing, blood pumped into his new tool, causing it to grow even longer as it hardened. Marty had become hung like a horse who could not only show off his impressive size but grow even bigger when hard.

His torso grew to match his new proportions too. The body fat he had melted away, leaving behind a set of 6 pack abs with sharp lines in place of his formerly chubby belly. His shoulders filled in with muscle mass, giving him impressive traps and delts. His arms blew up with mass too. The muscles in his biceps and triceps exploded with size until he had melons for arms. His forearms and hands grew bigger too. Veins ran all along his sculpted arm, even without him flexing. Within a matter of minutes, Marty had grown the type of ripped physique bodybuilders take years to build!! Only once his transformation was complete did Marty's eyes return to his usual brown color.

"What just happened!?" Chris exclaimed. He stood by frozen in shock as Marty transformed right before his very eyes. If he hadn't witnessed for himself, Chris would've never believed that the jock standing in front of him was the same average guy he roomed with back in college!

Chris' sudden shout caught Marty's attention. He turned to face him and smiled. He had an innocent look in his eyes, as if he didn't just undergo a supernatural transformation into a bodybuilder a few moments ago. It left Chris utterly bewildered.

"Marty? What happened to you?" Chris asked. Marty seemed puzzled. Chris asked again but Marty's confused expression only sharpened.

"Martyyyy don't fuck around right now! You are still you, right?"

Marty remained unresponsive. It was like he didn't remember who Chris or even his own name! In a moment of desperation, Chris began using hand gestures as he talked. Marty mirrored his movements, though all it led to was him flexing his bicep and grinning innocently. It was no use.

While Marty was busy flexing his new muscles, Chris stood there in disbelief. His mind was buzzing nonstop with various questions. What happened to his friend? What exactly was that blue sun? Why didn't he transform if he was exposed to the weird light too? He had so many questions, but basically little to no answers.

As Chris tried making sense of the situation, a commotion broke in the neighborhood. Screams echoed from down the street. His neighbors came out, fear and confusion written on their faces. A few of them had muscular men Chris didn't recognize following them out into the street. They had no sense of urgency in their eyes. Just cheery dispositions without any worries in the world.

"Holy fuck..." Chris whispered, as the gravity of what happened settled in his mind. That weird sun only lasted a minute at most, but its impact was already felt by the people who happened to see it. There was no telling what would happen next now.

[feyhunter78]

Even If You Call It Love

Description: You are set to leave for Winterfell with Cregan, but Aemond doesn't want to let you go.

Part 1

“I have already had the servants pack the spices you wish the kitchen to use when we arrive, and the Glass Gardens, I will have the gardener clear out a space, you may plant whatever you wish.” Cregan says, his hand in yours as he spins you around, your new cloak—Stark gray and trimmed with fur—flares out around you as he does.

“Thank you, but I would not want to make more work for them.” You protest, smiling up at him as he pulls you into his embrace, lowering his head to brush his lips against yours.

“You are their Lady; they are and will be glad to do it.” He says, before connecting your lips, his hand moving to support your lower back as he dips you, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You cup his cheek, heart skipping a beat when he leans into your touch, his storm gray eyes closing, a blissful smile adorning his face. “If you say so, husband.”

Cregan chuckles, eyes open, staring down at you so lovingly it takes your breath away. “Once we are home, I will show you I make good on my word, wife, and if the gardener has too much work to do then I shall simply clear the space myself.”

“You would get in the dirt and do a servants’ work for me?” You ask, peals of laughter spilling past your lips at the very idea.

“There is an endless list of things I would do for you.” He breathes, his lips brushing yours with each word, punctuating his statement with featherlight promises.

“We shall test that at home then.” You jest, tangling your fingers in his hair, your lips parting instinctually for him when he deepens the kiss.

A servant knocks on Cregan’s door, shattering the moment, and he groans, the vibrations buzzing against your lips.

“Yes?” He calls, kissing the corner of your lips, then the other, then your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, until he has covered the plains of your face with chaste kisses, making you giggle.

“Lord Stark, there are servants preventing us from loading Lady y/h/n’s belongings onto the wagons.” The man calls through the door.

You bite your lip, watching as Cregan’s brows furrow. “One moment.” He says, pulling you back up onto your feet. He presses a kiss to your hand, bidding you to take a seat on the settee, then opens the door and steps outside with the man.

Their conversation is quiet at first, then increases in volume until you can hear each word as clearly as you heard Cregan whisper his affections for you, his lips pressed to your ear only two nights prior.

“I care not what the prince says, he cannot keep my betrothed’s belongings hostage.” Cregan says, his voice is a mountain, sturdy, unyielding, unable to be ignored or burrowed through.

“My Lord, she is a lady of Princess Helaena.” A new voice explains.

“Yes, and the princess has given her blessing, so that is not a shield he can hide behind.” Cregan snarls.

You purse your lips and get up from the settee, toying with Cregan’s ring around your neck. You join the two men outside, placing a hand on Cregan’s bicep. “My love, please, I will speak with him.”

Cregan takes your hand and presses it to his lips once more before turning it in his hand, with such gentleness it makes your heart stutter. “You should not have to trouble yourself with him.”

“And yet, I must.” You say, giving him a reassuring smile.

He sighs and presses his lips to your palm, then your inner wrist, nipping at the pulse point before soothing the sting with the tip of his tongue. “I will escort you there, then we shall depart to see your father and then onwards to Winterfell.”

“I cannot wait.” You say, and you mean, truly, deeply, mean it. You cannot wait to be married to Cregan, to be his wife.

“I will not call off the servants; you are not thinking straight.” Aemond says the moment you enter his solar, his arms clasped behind his back.

“Prince Aemond…” You sigh, moving further into the room, watching as he paces. This is not unlike him, he detests change, and is beyond possessive. Truly you should have seen this coming and had your things moved in the middle of the night, then perhaps you would have been able to slip from the Keep without ever facing him again.

“Aemond, please, call me by my given name, if any shall, it should be you.” He says, stopping before you, a torn expression you have never seen before on his face.

You do not wish to hurt him, you never have, but you can no longer put his feelings before yours.

“I need my things, Aemond, I cannot travel without them.” You say carefully.

“You cannot leave, I have need of you.” His voice is steady, that sense of confidence still lingering, though it is fading fast.

“Need? What need?” You ask, unable to reconcile the man before you with the man who turned you away only two days prior.

“What need? All of them, you are mine, are you not? I simply did not realize how essential you were to my day-to-day life, but I have now, so you cannot leave.”

You bring your hand to the front of your neck as Queen Alicent does, a calming gesture you believe she does not realize she does, but you have picked up, nonetheless. “Aemond, why now? We have been doing this dance for years, I am tired of it, the steps have grown listless, the music dull, the other dancers have left the floor, and I would like to leave with them.”

He reaches for you, fingers curling in the air just beside your cheek. “I have made you wait; it was cruel of me, and I see now it has driven you into the arms of another, but I would end your wait if you would stay.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you close your eyes against his mournful gaze. “You have said that many times, made many promises, how am I to know if you would keep your word?”

“I am a man of my word; how could you question that?” He says softly, his hand finally making contact with your cheek, caressing it gently.

You meet his gaze now, heart heavy, you cannot make him see what he does not wish to, but you will try. “I must question it, for if I do not, I will spend many more years here waiting for you to love me, and I cannot do that, not anymore, not when I kno—”

“That there is a wolf pup willing to chase your skirts and slide into your bed now that you have revealed how truly desperate you are for affection?” His words are harsh, but his tone is still soft, as if he does not think it an insult what he has just said.

Your brow furrows, ice creeping in your veins. “Are you insinuating that Cregan sees me as some kind of whore?”

“It is Cregan already, not Lord Stark or Lord Cregan?” Aemond slides his knuckles down your cheek, your neck, ending at your collarbone, taking care to stop at each mark Cregan has left on your skin even though they are covered with cosmetics. “I am insinuating that he is a beast, and beasts can sense weakness. He is seeking to exploit your weakness, ñuha nūmio.”

“He is not a beast, and he would not do such a thing.” You say, turning your face away from Aemond, your hands buried in your skirts.

He scoffs and picks up the signet ring—Cregan’s signet ring—that hangs from your neck on a sturdy but elegant silver chain. “Why else would he set out to charm you? My dear y/n, you bring no benefit to House Stark, and while you have many wonderful traits, you are not a highly sought after prize by any means.”

You take a step back, Cregan’s ring slipping from his hands and knocking against your breastbone. It is sobering, the cool metal, and it gives you strength. “That is your opinion, Aemond, but it is not Cregan’s.”

“Since when have you cared for any opinion but mine? What has changed, tell me who has turned you against me?” He pleads, his violet eye shining with a strange light.

“You, Aemond It was you who has turned me against you. I told you that I was not happy, and in truth I do not think I have been happy for a long time. So please, tell the servants to allow Cregan’s men to collect my things.” You beseech him, silently begging him to see sense. “I do not wish to share all my future husband’s clothes until I am able to procure more, but I will if need be. Do not make me do that, you know I hate dull colors.”

“We could be happy, I could make you happy, if only you would give me time.” He promises, taking your hands in his own, ignoring your words as he always has. His hands are cold, and you realize they do not fit yours as Cregan’s does. Your fingers do not seamlessly interlock, instead they fight each other for dominance, for room, for freedom.

You shake your head sadly. “No Aemond, it is too late…I am sorry, but you must let me go.”

His eye is rimmed red, and he shakes his head as well, silver hair falling forward like a curtain. “I cannot.”

“You must.” You whisper, squeezing his hands before sliding yours from him and taking a step towards the door. “You do not love me—”

“I do, I do, I love you, y/n.” He insists, grabbing your hands again and taking one step forwards for your backwards one.

The pain in your chest is a sharp, piercing one. This is all you have wanted for so very long, but now…it is nothing, it feels hollow, desperate, and you see Aemond as he truly is for the first time.

“No, My Prince, you do not. If you loved me, we would be wed. You would not have let anything stand in your way, I know you, I loved you, I have seen what you do when you do love someone, and you do not love me.” You tell him, giving him a tearful smile.

“And this…Lord Stark does?”

“He is marrying me.” You say, and it is the only thing that needs to be said.

Aemond releases your hands, but not before pressing a kiss to each one. “A victory for the North.”

You nod, fighting back a sob as a single tear hits your joined hands, and Aemond turns his face from you.

“You must write to me, if you have need, or…miss me.” Aemond says, clasping his arms, behind his back once more.

You turn and reach for the doorknob, “do not wait for my letters Aemond, it would not make either of us happy.”

Cregan stumbles back when you pull open the door, a sheepish smile on his face, but he is ready, with open arms, sweeping you into them and whispering how strong and brave you are.

You can feel Aemond’s eye burning into you, into Cregan.

“My Prince.” Cregan says, nodding his head towards Aemond, before he brushes the tears from your face and kisses you gently.

There is a strangled sound from inside Aemond’s solar, but Cregan’s lips on yours drowns out any sense of guilt, and you smile when he pulls away.

“Are you ready, Lady Stark?” Cregan asks, offering you his arm.

You take it and lean into him. “I am ready, Lord Stark, let us go see my father, and then home, to Winterfell.”

“Y/N—” Aemond’s voice, a broken, frantic thing, follows you, but Cregan merely pushes the door shut, and leads you away, towards your new, happier future.

TL: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @issshh, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool, @jennifer0305, @solkara

[ga-lily-o]

⚹ Reader is gn! ⚹

Tags/Warnings: Allusions to sex the night before // Sappy, sappy inner monologue // fluff // mildly suggestive language // short blurb // I cried writing this I want this so bad // I just wanted to write domestic fluff ngl // under 1k words

Summary: Mark Grayson is many, many things. A hero, a Viltrumite, his mother’s son, Oliver’s brother, but god does he love being yours.

(Author’s note at the bottom)

Mark loves you. That’s not the big reveal, but it certainly hits him like a bullet every time he’s reminded of just how deeply he does.

Like a freight train to the lungs every time he catches you, sees you, in a way only he gets to see. With sleep sagging at your shoulders like a weighted blanket over hickey-bitten skin, your legs in the bare air as you nurse a cup of whatever was the first thing you grabbed on the counter. Which happens to be your favourite morning wake up, because Mark always makes it for you when he wakes up first.

And he’s damn thankful for the chance, don’t you get him wrong. Any opportunity to hear you hum in quiet, tired delight; to see the way your eyes droop as you let the smell of it waft under your nose, he’s going to take it. Because loving you in the quiet of everything, is Mark’s favourite kind of morning.

“You jus’ gonna stare, baby?” you ask him, the words a tired drawl as you hold out an arm to let him slip himself closer, your cup (the one he’s got the matching set of) gently clinking when it hits the counter. He slips his arms under yours, feeling his heart swell at the quiet laugh you let out by his ear, and he breathes you in. Like home, and the lingering night before.

He’d stay staring at you forever, if you’d let him. Would die happy curled up against you or simply watching you go about your everyday, no matter how boring or dull. Though it’s hard to say anything gets boring or dull with you around, not with the way you’re always tugging at his heartstrings or making him laugh.

“I’m just admiring my work,” he says, in lieu of voicing his true, sappy thoughts. His head stays tucked into your neck, and he feels and so clearly hears the way you giggle. “I don’t think I left enough of them on you.”

Your palm makes contact with his back, though he’d hardly call it a hit. If anything, he barely feels it at all with the way his skin is quite literally invulnerable to most physical attacks. Still, he winces, just to give you the satisfaction of it and to see the way you raise a brow at him when he pulls back.

“Stop pretending, asshole,” you mumble, but there’s a fondness twisting your words into something affectionate, and here’s another reason why he loves you. Even while making fun of him, you somehow make him feel loved.

“I’m not pretending,” he whines lightly, clicking his tongue with a playful frown. Your drink’s getting cold, but your smile is getting livelier and livelier and Mark loves you like it’s breathing. “It really hurts my heart when you hit me.”

The way you tip your head to the side to laugh makes him grin on instinct, leaning in closer until his nose bumps against the side of yours, and you’re chest to chest with your back to the counter, arms wrapped around his shoulders like his are wrapped around your waist.

“You’re impossible,” you laugh, eyes closed and breath shaking, and he watches you peek your crinkled eyes open with the same focus one might watch a total solar eclipse.

“Mmm, wrong,” he teases, pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth, laughter making its way through to him from you like an infectious giggle fit, “I’m Invincible, actually.”

Because here’s the big reveal: Mark wants to marry you. And when you stop giggling, he kisses you with the full force of it knowing you’d catch him either way.

A/N: I decided to make my own borders this time cause I’m . bugged by the lack of coherency in the visuals of my posts. Anyways, I cried a little while writing this. Something about domestic love and ‘loving in the quiet’ always always gets to me. Because it’s one thing to love someone as they are at their best, it’s another to see them in the morning and find them beautiful for the way they look. All disheveled and what not.

This is also shorter, because I tried to write more of it, but the pacing was just off. It’s more powerful and poignant in my opinion to keep it as this first part alone. If I do continue it, it’d be at a later date, and I wouldn’t want to write the proposal unless I got the inspiration for it, just because it gets hard for me to write scenes like that without accidentally falling into oc or self-insert territory.

Consider this more my new borders debut than me posting a fic 😭

[revelboo]

He's here! A little shaken but in great condition! Another fun assembly~

I love the tiny mega vehicle...

Another TFO Star! My tracking fell off the face of the earth 4 days ago 🥲 He’s somewhere.

But aaaaaah!

No Strings Pt 2

Rainmakers x Reader

• Sliding you down into the box with the rest of your supplies since he’s almost sure you can’t climb back out, he heads back to his own transport ship. Can hear you chirping at him from inside the box, distressed at not being able to see out? “Sorry, but I’m busy right now,” he murmurs. Because he’s not sure he can pilot, keep a hold of you, and suppress his outlier abilities all at once. Not entirely sure what his toxic nature might do to something as soft as you are, but he can’t imagine it’d be good. Hears you rattling around in the box, chirping insistently and he reaches to tip the box, startling you as you slide, indignant eyes staring up at him when he fishes out Swindle’s little bottle and subspaces it so you don’t get into it by accident.

• Listening to the big monster grumble at you, his voice is low and gruff when he reaches back in and rubs a servo against your jaw. And the urge to swat him is there, but staying on his good side seems like a good idea for your continued survival. Stumbling when he withdraws his hand and the box rocks back down flat, you find and yank a blanket free to wrap around yourself, turning your attention on the rest of the stuff. And holy crap, is that a fun sized bag of Reese’s cups? Your captor had been force feeding you gray, tasteless bars and water. And he’d had candy the whole time? Another reason to hate him. Ripping open the package, you stuff one in your mouth and start digging through the rest of the supplies.

• Setting the ship on auto once he’s free of Swindle’s ship, he looks in on you and stifles a growl. Because he’d left you alone for barely a klik and you’d gotten into your training treats. Big eyes stare innocently up at him as you chirp your sweet nonsense at him and shove another treat in your mouth. So much for not handling you. Scooping you up, he shifts you to a thigh, gently tugging at the blanket you’ve wrapped around yourself and you tug back, giving up when he almost lifts you off your feet trying to get it away from you. Little shoulders hunching when he brushes a servo against soft skin, examining you. “I can’t believe Cybertronians are fragging you guys,” he says, venting softly. “You’re too fragile for that, aren’t you?” Tapping his servo against you to make you chirp and grab him. Of course, you’re just a gift. A little pet to hopefully distract Nova from his new duties. And the restrictions placed on their whole Trine as high-risk former Decepticons. Peace or no peace, outliers are an endangered species now. Monitored and tracked. Controlled. Touching the little leash dangling from your harness, he carefully unhooks it and you look from it to him. “I don’t like being caged or bound, either.”

• Deciding he’s not going to molest you, you turn and crane your neck toward the control panel. Breath catching when you see the window above you and the huge world you’re approaching. That’s not earth. You’d guessed that you’d been beamed up, that they were aliens, but having it confirmed sends tremors through you. How far from home are you? How can you get back when they can’t understand you? He’d taken the harness off, though and you flinch when he drapes your blanket over your head. Aware that those red optics are watching as you wrap it around yourself, because you’re so sick of being cold and naked.

• Head resting in his hand, Nova Storm scrolls through the list of rules and restrictions being levied on his trine. At least they’re not being outright imprisoned, but this isn’t really a lot better. Hearing the door to their shared habsuite opening, he vents. “We’re to report for monitoring implants within the next solar cycle,” he calls out, head lifting to see if it’s Ion Storm or Acid Storm returning. “Where were you?” Because sneaking off now? If it was noticed, their energon allotment will be cut. Again.

• “I thought we needed something to liven up our habsuite,” Acid Storm murmurs, shifting the box with you in it in his hands. He’d been toying with names the trip back, finally settling on Rain Storm since you’re as soft as rain. Hoping the name will help endear you to Nova as part of their trine, because they need something. Their purpose, their hopes and even their freedom slowly being stripped away. Watching Nova’s optics narrow, he reaches in and pulls you out, setting you on your tiny feet on the desk and Nova leans back with a frown. “It’s cute right? I named it Rain Storm.”

• There’s another one, almost identical to the big green one who’d taken you, but almost a burnished golden color. Twins? Can giant, alien robot monsters be twins? Looking from the new one to yours, it’s the frown on Goldie’s face that you fixate on. Because those alien faces are eerily human and you’re almost positive this one isn’t happy with you or Green. What happens to you if he won’t let Green keep you? Do you go back to the cage and the porn vids? Or do you just get turned loose on a strange alien world to fend for yourself. Terrified at that thought, you wonder closer to Goldie. Not knowing what they want from you, what’s expected, you reach and touch the back of his hand. “I really, really don’t want to go back to the cage,” you whisper, smiling weakly. “You’re warm.” Pressing your palms more firmly against him, because he’s a lot hotter to the touch than Green is.

• “Rain Storm,” Nova mutters, staring at those tiny little hands on his. And looking at his brother’s hopeful expression, there’s no denying him. You can’t be that much trouble. Chirping up at him, you bare tiny teeth at him in what almost looks unsettlingly like a smile. “Please tell me this thing isn’t sentient.” Relaxing when Acid shakes his head, because getting caught keeping another sentient as a pet? They’d lose what little freedom they have. “Alright, but you’re cleaning up after it.” Turning when Ion Storm returns, arms loaded with energon cubes and their brother pauses spotting the organic, wings lifting. “Come meet our new pet,” Nova says tiredly.

Previous

Next

[childrenofcain-if]

Has there been any instances where Mc and C did work together other than the fake baby thingy?

the science lab was filled with high schoolers scrambling to set up their projects, all of them either too caffeinated or not caffeinated enough for the stress of the prestigious state science fair in washington.

the tables were crammed with an impressive array of projects: models of volcanic eruptions, elaborate circuits blinking in synchronized colors, experiments with soil composition in tiny terrariums. but none of them held a candle to your table, and you knew it.

you worked quickly, your fingers deft as you adjusted the components of the intricate apparatus. the machine—an elegant contraption meant to demonstrate clean energy storage using solar capacitors—was you and C’s brainchild.

they had done the research, the design, the equations scribbled out with ruthless precision in their sharp handwriting. you’d handled the practical end of things: soldering wires, programming the software, ensuring that their theoretical masterpiece could actually, you know, work.

you didn’t notice the way C stood a few feet away, arms crossed tightly, their posture as stiff as a statue’s. their chalcedony green eyes followed your every move like a hawk watching its prey, catching each adjustment you made, each tool you reached for.

finally, they cleared their throat. “you’re doing it wrong.”

you sighed without turning around, tightening a bolt on the panel. “good morning to you, too, lacroix. nice to see you’re in a supportive mood today.”

“supportive?” their voice had that sharp, clipped quality it always took on when they thought you were being deliberately obtuse. “i’d be supportive if you weren’t—” they made an exasperated noise, gesturing vaguely at the machine. “look, the angles on the solar panels are all wrong. the light’s not going to hit them efficiently like that. it’s basic geometry. i explained this to you yesterday.”

“okay,” you said evenly, glancing at them over your shoulder. “anything else?”

C blinked, their expression flickering into something almost like confusion. “you’re just... accepting it? like that?”

“well, yeah,” you said, shrugging. “you’re the brains behind this, aren’t you? if you’ve got more suggestions, i’m open to them.”

C suddenly seemed at a loss for words. the tips of their ears turned a faint pink, and they glanced away.

“well, i, uh...” they began, before scowling at you like it was somehow your fault they’d stumbled. “fine! move the reflector two inches to the left.”

you did as they asked, your motions slow and deliberate. “happy?”

“stop talking to me,” C snapped.

you blinked at them, incredulous. “you’re the one bossing me around!”

C ignored you, their nose tilting upward in that infuriatingly haughty way they’d perfected.

***

when the judges arrived at your school’s section, the air grew thick with anticipation. there were four of them—an engineer from spacex, a college professor from MIT, a tech startup CEO, and some local entrepreneur who had been introduced as a ‘philanthropist.’

they moved from table to table with an efficiency that made your stomach churn. you’d been rehearsing your answers for days, but there was something about the way they scribbled on their clipboards that made even your confidence waver.

but the presentation began smoothly enough, much to your relief. C handled the technical explanations, their voice steady and precise as they guided the judges through the intricacies of your design. you handled the broader picture, spinning a compelling narrative about its real-world applications.

but when the judges started asking questions, something shifted.

“so, who came up with the original concept?” the engineer asked, pen poised over her notepad.

“well,” you started, “it was—”

“me,” C interrupted, their green eyes glinting. “i developed the initial framework.”

you gave them an irritated look. “what they actually meant to say was that it was a joint effort.”

“sure,” C drawled sarcastically. “you jointly borrowed my calculations and then messed up the assembly two separate times.”

you bristled. “maybe if your diagrams weren’t as convoluted as your personality, i wouldn’t have had to ‘mess up’ anything.”

“convoluted? that’s rich, coming from someone who thought capacitors and resistors were interchangeable—”

“that was one time, and it only happened because you mislabeled them!”

the judges exchanged glances, two of them clearly trying not to laugh, the other two looking mildly alarmed.

“would you say you two work well together?” another judge ventured cautiously.

“oh, absolutely,” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

“can’t agree more,” C added, voice as flat as a table.

the judge raised an eyebrow, scribbling something down.

by the end of the presentation, both of you were red-faced and fuming, but the machine worked perfectly, and the judges seemed reluctantly impressed.

***

after the presentation, you and C sat side by side in the waiting area, the hum of chatter and distant applause filling the space. your hands rested in your lap, but when you shifted slightly, your fingers brushed against theirs. the accidental contact sent a jolt of heat up your arm, and you risked a glance at them.

C was staring angrily at the floor as if it had just demanded to drain their bank account, half of their face buried in the high collar of their dark green turtleneck. the tips of their ears had turned even more pink. their foot tapped against the floor in rapid, agitated beats.

when the winners were announced, your names rang out together, tethered like an inevitability.

you and C locked eyes, both startled, before standing up in unison. the applause was loud, but all you could focus on was the awkwardness of walking side by side to accept the award.

you still fell into step beside them, the trophy handed over in a flurry of handshakes and flashes from the crowd’s cameras.

the microphone passed between you two for the acceptance speech.

“we’d like to thank our school for supporting this project,” you began, glancing at C.

“and, of course, this wouldn’t have been possible without the cooperation of my... partner,” they added, their jaw tightening as if the words physically pained them to say.

you were tempted to laugh at how they looked like they were having a particularly bad case of indigestion, but managed to keep a straight face for the cameras.

***

after the ceremony, the two of you lingered near the refreshment table. C cleared their throat awkwardly, avoiding your gaze.

“you did... good,” they muttered.

you cocked your head, thinking you misheard them. “what?”

“i said you did good,” they repeated, louder this time. “you didn’t embarrass us. much.”

you snorted. “thanks, i guess. you weren’t too bad yourself.”

C hesitated, their eyes darting to the trophy in their right hand as their other hand fidgeted with the edge of their aldervale prep blazer.

“you’re smart though,” they said finally, their voice softer than usual. “you would’ve won without me.”

the admission startled you. “was that... a real compliment?”

this time, C’s cheeks turned pink as well, and they huffed loudly, turning on their heel. “i’m leaving. and i’m taking the trophy.”

“wait, what?” you snapped out of your stupor and hurried after them. “that’s not fair, lacroix! we both won!”

“too bad, starkid,” C called over their shoulder, their tone maddeningly smug. “you want it? come and get it.”

you groaned, chasing them through the crowd. “lacroix, get back here!”

and for the first time all day, C’s smile was genuine enough for their dimples to show.

[thealchemistbae]

MY SOLAR RETURN CHART 2025 🎂

Disclaimer: This post is for entertainment purposes only.

thealchemistbae © do not copy, redistribute, or edit my content.

If you enjoyed this post, you can leave me a tip via PayPal at goddessguapa@gmail.com or via Venmo @goddessguapa. Thank you.

Okay My birthday recently passed (MAY 4) and now my Solar Return chart has been ACTIVATED, sooo let me tell you what my Solar Return is giving this year,

🎈Sun in Taurus 5H 13° -> This year is all about me living deliciously. I'm prioritizing my joy, creativity, romance, and just fully stepping into my soft & luxurious main character energy. I'm shining when I'm having fun, being loved on, and doing what lights me up. Think luxury dates, creative projects taking off, and maybe even tapping into my inner child more. I'm magnetic af this year.

🎈Moon in Leo 8H 8° -> Emotionally, I'm craving depth and loyalty. I'm not doing surface level anything. If we're not emotionally intertwined or investing in something serious...money, love, soul ties then I'm not interested. I might be more private this year but trust, I'm powerfully transforming behind the scenes. Also...sex and intimacy? EXTRA spicy.

🎈Sagittarius Rising 14° -> My vibe this year is bold, magnetic, adventurous. People are seeing me as more independent, spontaneous, and confident in my vision. I'm attracting lucky opportunities that expand me...travel, media, education, freedom. I'm literally stepping into my next level baddie era. Could be traveling or moving since Sag Natally rules my 4th house.

🎈Mercury in Aries 4H 19° -> Mentally, I will be focusing on my home, roots, and healing family dynamics. I'm speaking up more with family or people close to home, maybe even moving (another indicator!) or switching up my living situation. I'm not biting my tongue anymore. I will be direct and bold when it comes to protecting my peace.

🎈Venus in Aries 4H 1° -> Venus here means I'm beautifying my space and craving softness and passion at home. I want love that feels like warmth, safety, and desire all in one. It could also bring love into the home, either someone new I'm cozying up with, or deepening something serious. I could even make money from home or work on something real estate related.

🎈Mars in Leo 8H 7° -> My drive and ambition is rooted in transformation this year. I'm fiercely going after what's mine...money, power, emotional rebirth. I could be working on some boss-level investments or collabs this year. But I'm also extra protective of my energy and only exchanging it with people who are worthy.

🎈Jupiter in Gemini 7H 22° -> This is such a blessing in my love life, business partnerships, and overall connections. Jupiter is at a master builder degree which means the relationships I'm forming or expanding this year are meant to last and build something solid. Whether it's love, legal contracts, or collabs, I'm attracting aligned people who help me grow mentally, financially, and socially. It's giving power couple energy or bossed up deals with long term potential. I'm also becoming more visible and magnetic in one-to-one dynamics. People wanna work with me, date me, know me.

🎈Saturn in Pisces 4H 28° -> I'm getting real about what "home" means to me. I'm creating emotional boundaries and stability in my private life. There may be hard lessons around family, but they're setting me up for long term peace. This is inner healing on a soul level.

🎈Uranus in Taurus 6H 26° -> Work and wellness are unpredictable this year, sudden changes in routine, job, or lifestyle. But it's all pushing me toward freedom. I might start freelancing more, shaking up my habits, or diving into something totally new that makes my day to day more aligned.

🎈Neptune in Aries 4H 1° -> I'm dreaming up a new version of home, spiritually and literally. It's giving "vision board come to life" energy. There may be some confusion at times with family or boundaries, but I'm learning to trust my intuition here.

🎈Pluto in Aquarius 2H 3° -> This year is about big money energy. I'm transforming how I earn, spend, and see my worth. I'm becoming powerful with my finances, cutting ties with limiting beliefs and building something futuristic and solid. I'm getting serious about building wealth.

🎈NN in Pisces 4H 26° -> My soul is being guided toward softness, surrender, and inner peace. This year is about finding safety in myself, healing ancestral patterns, and creating a home that feels like a sanctuary. I'm becoming emotionally richer.

🎈Chiron in Aries 4H 24° -> Wounds around family, safety, and feeling at home in myself are coming up to be healed. I'm learning that I am my home. The more I nurture myself, the more confident I become.

🎈POF in Virgo 9H 20° -> Blessings are coming from travel, spiritual studies, higher education, publishing, or expanding my mind. The more I explore and grow, the more abundance I attract. This is alignment through movement.

🎈Vertex in Leo 8H 6° -> Fated encounters this year could be super intense and transformative; think soulmate energy, sexual healing, or someone who completely changes how I see intimacy. Deep bonds are aligning with my destiny.

🎈Lilith in Scorpio 11H 4° -> I'm attracting intense, magnetic connections in my social circle. This year, I'm cutting fake friends and only vibing with people who see and respect the real, raw me. No more playing small to fit in.

🎈Fama in Taurus 5H 4° -> I'm getting noticed for being authentic, creative, and living my truth. People are drawn to my confidence and how I express myself. This year could bring fame or recognition through doing what I love.

🎈Starr in Taurus 6H 24° -> My daily work and routines are tied to my personal brand. When I show up consistently, in my beauty and power, it puts me in the spotlight. This is a "get seen for being me" year.

🎈Talent in Pisces 3H retrograde 5° -> My natural gifts come out through writing, speaking, creating content, or using my voice in healing ways. I may revisit old skills or ideas that are meant to be brought into the light now.

🎈Fan in Gemini 7H 22° -> I'm building a fanbase or audience through my relationships. People admire how I communicate, connect, and keep things interesting. Collabs, partnerships, and love could be very public this year.

🎈Groom in Cancer 8H 18° -> This year, I'm attracting emotionally deep, possibly private or transformative masculine energy. If a man shows up, he's either super emotionally attuned or tied to something karmic...sex, soul bonds or secrets.

🎈Juno in Scorpio 12H retrograde 26° -> I'm rethinking commitment and loyalty in secret or spiritual ways. This might be a year of hidden love stories, soul ties, or healing past relationship wounds behind the scenes.

🎈Briede in Capricorn 2H 28° -> I'm thinking seriously about long term value in relationships especially financial and emotional security. If marriage crossed my mind, it's got to be stable, real, and legacy building.

🎈Boda in Aquarius 2H 7° -> I'm marrying my weirdness to my worth literally, I might attract unconventional or progressive connections that help me elevate my money game or self-worth. I want freedom and value.

🎂1H ruler - Jupiter in Gemini 22° 7H: All eyes on relationships. I'm learning alot through connections; maybe even partnerships that challenge or expand me. I'm attracting people who mirror my mental energy and growth.

🎂2H ruler - Saturn in Pisces 28° 4H: My money is connected to home, family, and emotional roots. I'm being called to mature with my finances. Real estate, home moves, or family responsibilities could impact income.

🎂3H ruler - Uranus in Taurus 26° 6H: Surprise convos, unexpected work or routines, and maybe even digital opportunities pop up. Think sudden shifts in how I talk, move or run my daily life.

🎂4H ruler - Neptune in Aries 1° 4H & Jupiter in Gemini 22° 7H: My home life is spiritual, dreamy, or even confusing. I might be craving peace at home, but I need to make sure I'm not avoiding reality. I could be living with a partner.

🎂5H ruler - Mars in Leo 7° 8H: My dating life is likely to be spicy and intense; either passionate or very transformational. I might attract lovers who stir up deep emotional or even financial energy.

🎂6H ruler - Venus in Aries 1° 4H: I'm beautifying the home, working from home, or doing something I love that ties into my roots. Work-life balance matters this year and I need it to feel like me.

🎂7H ruler - Mercury in Aries 19° 4H: Partnerships are tied to the home or family. I might move in with someone or connect deeply with someone from my past.

🎂8H ruler - Moon in Leo 8° 8H: Emotions run deep. I feel things intensely. I might go through a transformation this year involving sex, money or soul ties.

🎂9H ruler - Sun in Taurus 13° 5H: I shine in creative spaces, romance, and self-expression. I'm expanding through love and fun; but I also want loyalty and security in it.

🎂10H ruler - Virgo MC 24° ruled by Mercury in Aries 19° 4H: My career is bold, independent, maybe even home-based. I'm leading with confidence and truth; even if it shakes things up.

🎂11H ruler - Venus in Aries 1° 4H: Friendships and goals are tied to comfort, softness, or my family. I might collaborate with women or creatives in cozy spaces or at home.

🎂12H ruler - Pluto in Aquarius 3° 2H: My secret power is in reinvention and money magic. I'm lowkey transforming my values and how I build long term wealth.

Let me know if you have ever had any of these placements in your solar return and share your experience or if we have similar solar returns this year

thealchemistbae © do not copy, redistribute, or edit my content.

If you enjoyed this post, you can leave me a tip via PayPal at goddessguapa@gmail.com or via Venmo @goddessguapa. Thank you.

[a-d-nox]

solar return: i'm 24 1/2, here are my observations so far

paid reading options: astrology menu & cartomancy menu

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1h ruler in the 6h: 100% i have become more aware of my health / well-being. my daily routines have dramatically shifted. i set a goal to do 30mins of movement 5 days a week and that has changed my life! i did recently have a mini health problem that landed me at a gastroenterologist... and the answer was i don't get enough fiber and i am severely dehydrated. which oddly enough my eye doctor told me i have very few tear ducts which is causing eye strain and making my vision worse which is another hydration problem. the answer hasn't been eyedrops... i have tried 3 medicated drops - the answer is in the fire rising. WARM EYE COMPRESSES.

2h pluto: unexpected gains or losses... guys that stock market crash - omg i lost 100s i was miffed. power struggles over money... mind you this is my 11h ruler. my friendships and those involved with my friends... i am acting a bit stupid with my money... i have definitely taken charge of many financial situations so far this year. someone pray for me...

2h ruler square venus: my financial situation is clashing with my social life. there is tension in my relationships due to money-related issues, which are issues of differing financial values and struggles over shared resources. i am on this path of save save save for the future considering the future and careers in it feel more and more uncertain while my friends are like who cares spend and see what happens. i don't think i'm unable to meet material standards - i'm simply unwilling to when i see that the price doesn't match my values, needs, or wants and especially when i notice something comparable that will bring joy at a lesser price.

3h neptune rx: this is honestly the worst part of this year so far - conversations are not as straightforward as i'd like.... the vagueness in communication... garbage! just tell me what you mean lol i'm so tired of having to guess then present to people what they asked me to do then they are like "no, i wanted this instead"... i need to work on clarifying my intentions and expectations to avoid misunderstandings for the rest of the year. i think i am being clear in my communication but then no one responds until its a huge mess (i have so many examples of this...).

5h ruler in the 12h: working on creative projects in private... lowkey was this my social media hiatus?? like i fell off and i got so much done. but another possibility - my friend moved up her wedding and i happen to be working on a top secret art project for the couple. i have maybe another month or two of progress i need to make to finish this project/gift.

5h ruler sextile mc: showcase showcase showcase when it's done it will no doubt draw a lot of attention - no to toot my own horn but it's beautiful. and i plan to get it professionally framed...

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© a-d-nox 2025 all rights reserved

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Little Sister - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Here comes a new challenger...

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

The Black Cat, equidistant between the Rumbler's Den and the Nymph, was a stewpot of blue lightningfire.

Jinx's hair just about stood on end; her first entrance past the doors and a peculiar sense of homecoming—or maybe its inverse?—zigzagged down her spine.

The place was a constellation of doppelgangers. Jinxettes and Jinxos, baptized-blue and crooked-fanged, all massed in under one roof. Nameless and legion: they cherished only one thing.

A heartful of chaos, and an eye on the horizon.

The music was pure champagne: spilling over in a foam of techno and crystal-cool vocals. Bassline like a sonic boom. Bodies swaying in sync. The conversation crosscutting through the cacophony was less small-talk than shout-out-loud. Words didn't travel at these decibels; the syllables got lost en route from lips to earlobe.

It was just noise. Mouths moving faster than the speed of light, punctuated by solar flares of laughter.

"...lovesdakiddelicious..."

"...gotanycigs..."

"...ILOVEUPPERS!."

And at the heart of the delirium:

Jinx.

No longer the lost girl longing to fly away, but a queen come home.

She cadged a fizzing bottle of Powerade off a crowded table—bubble-spicy and flame-blue. The swigs scalded, but in a good way, like chugging liquified marshmallows straight off the campfire. Most of the crowd were already three sheets to Shurima. Others were glowy-eyed, touchy-feely: aphrodisiacal strains of Shimmer infusing their veins.

One of them, a trippingly tall Vastayan made even taller by a coif of bright-azure braids, slunk within shouting distance.

"Your hair's soooooooo rad!"

"Thanks!"

"Wish my fur got that sheen..." With a flourish of nails like mirror shards, the Vastayan carded a hand through her tuft. Pink roots peeped through the blue. "...what dye d'ya use?"

"No dye. Just lotsa gunpowder!"

"Hah. That's a hoot."

The Vastayan, mistaking veracity for wisecrack, chortled. Jinx got a packet of wasabi crisps for her trouble; plus a little plastic square of fairydust. White with pink dots, promising a jolt of euphoria so potent it'd shame a thunderclap. Jinx palmed both, though she quickly doled out the latter to the next rando who crossed her path.

She couldn't stand nose candy; set her sinuses afire and makes her sweat bullets.

Last thing Jinx needed was for her firepower to get soggy.

At an indoor shooting-range set up in honor of Zaun's Blue Baddie, Jinx flexed her trigger-finger. The dummies, spray-painted with ultraviolet death's heads, were designed to spring backwards once hit. As Jinx squeezed shot after shot, they became her puppets: each one potted one-two-three in precise sequence, before pinwheeling into splinters.

Her marksmanship won hoots, cheers, and finally applause.

"WOOOH YEAH!"

"ALLLRIGHT, GIRLFRIEND!"

"GOT AN EYE ON YA!"

Jinx met each whoop with a fey curtsy; each toast with an extra shot; each whistle with a flying kiss. When the real crackshots, muscling their way into range, challenged her to a rematch, Jinx called for a whole fucking keg as tribute. Then proceeded to trounce each punter with a quickdraw that'd give the great Zilean himself a double-dose of vertigo.

"You," groused a man twice her age with biceps like meat melons and a gold-tipped canine tooth, "ain't human."

In reply, Jinx flipped him two birdies. He just laughed, clapping her on the shoulder.

"Eh, no hard feelings. Better a pro beatin' me than some rookie sludge-punk. Buy a round for ya?"

"Got my eye on somebody else!"

"An' is he worth waitin' on?"

"You bet my... well, Jinx's... bottom bullet!"

A hearty guffaw, and the meathead slapped her ass en route to the bar. Jinx riposted by snatching the air-gun from another player's holster and zipping off a smart ping that sent him diving for cover, while his friends at the bar erupted into laughter.

Jinx's own smile, tucked between her teeth, split wide open.

They weren't strangers, this lot. They were her own.

In the surreal glow of a back-alley gumball machine spewing rock candy, cherry cordial and gobstoppers, Jinx fed coin after coin, treating herself to the sugar-boost and deep drags of the smoky night air.

The leftovers, she divvied up among a passel of sumpsnipes loitering nearby. Her sweets vanished in seconds, crushed between sharp young jaws. As Jinx taught them how to string lollipops into a garland for a hat, she spied Billy swooping overhead, wingtips cutting black crescents over the smokestacks.

One bell to go, Jinx thought.

The sumpsnipes, cheering, scuttled off. Their little leader waved farewell before scaling a drainpipe to follow his posse up the rooftops, where refrains of Get Jinxed floated in ebbing waves. None of them had a clue their anthem's namesake was the one who'd stuffed their pockets seconds prior with loot.

And it didn't matter.

What counted was the glint in their eyes— the knowledge that tonight was theirs to keep.

A good run was shaping up. Jinx, idling back against the gritty brick wall, let the bloom of light sweat and heat radiate off her skin. She was reaching the sweet horizon of buzzdom: where inhibitions loosened and nerves jived. She needed it; nervousness had a way of curling her toes in their boots.

Soon, she thought.

From the shadowed corner, a voice drawled, "I don’t know if I should get the camera or the cuffs."

Jinx pivoted.

The speaker was a girl, roughly her own age, lounging sideways across a few crates. Her posture, languid, nearly liquid, made Jinx feel as though she'd been poured out of some abstractly sensual honeypot. Like the rest of tonight's jet-blue set, her hair and brows were tinted cobalt: tribute to the Lady of the Hour. She had a pierced lip, a hoop dangling from her right nostril, and lots of tinkly bangles around each wrist. The standard-fare Zaunite duds—tight black baby-T, patched denim hot pants, patent leather thigh-highs—completed the ensemble.

Yet something about her eyes sent a tiny chill skittering up Jinx's spine.

"Cuffs, huh?" Jinx cocked a hip, popping the last gobstopper into her mouth. "Sorry, toots. Never pegged myself for bondage gear. Pun oh-so-intended."

"No?" Those too-old eyes gave Jinx a slow once-over. "Too bad. It'd look good on you."

"Or better off me."

The tart rejoinder earned a sly smile. It was hard to look away from the girl's eyes, though Jinx couldn’t tell what it was about them that set her sonar pinging. Maybe it was the color. Dark sclera, golden irises. Her trivializing face-paint—two hearts inked under each peeper—didn't undercut their intensity.

A predator's eyes.

Jinx stared. She'd never met this broad before. Yet there was a queer familiarity, like déjà vu in reverse.

She'd felt it once before. For another broad, whose eyes were also gold, and yet not really golden at all—they just seemed to attract and reflect all the bright rays flitting through the airwaves.

Except Mel Medarda had never made Jinx's hackles rise.

This girl? A split-second under her scrutiny, and the urge to shoot was building, insuppressible.

Jinx's instinct, failsafe, whispered:

Aim straight for the skull.

Jinx kept her exterior frothy as foam. "You from around these parts? You look new."

"Far from." Another sly-lipped smile. "Maybe our paths haven't crossed because we move in different circles."

"Circles, huh? We talkin' crops? Or circuits?"

"Whichever you fancy."

"I fancy a straight answer," snapped Jinx. "And a lot less mysterio schlock."

"And I'd love to give you less of one, and more of the other." The girl unseated herself from the crates, doing a slinking side-to-side towards Jinx. "But I doubt your father would approve."

"My father?"

"The Eye." Those golden eyes danced, slitwise. "Right now, he has you running in circles. Doesn't want you coming near my particular circuit."

Jinx said nothing. The girl came forward, with steps so small, so measured, that each boot-tip barely stirred a sound. Yet her proximity was overwhelming. The not-right feeling in Jinx's spine escalated from funny to downright wrong.

Whoever this stranger was, she was a big leaguer; and not in the way of chem-royalty or cartel matriarchs: steeped in swagger and studded in bling.

This was a different breed: sharper, sleeker, deadlier.

"I think," Jinx said, dropping her smile, "that I don't much care for circus clowns clowning me for kicks."

"That's why I'm here. To get the air nice and clear between us. Because soon, you'll set your sights on horizons beyond your father's reach. And spread your wings wider than even I can gamble on."

"The only wings are the ones riding your batty ass ragged," Jinx said, flatly. "And what d'ya mean 'soon.' What's 'soon'? Couple days from now? Couple decades?"

The golden eyes shone again, full of cruel knowledge. "Oh, it's already happened."

"Yep. Batty as the belfry."

"And you're late, little sister." That sidling sway stopped just shy of intimacy. "At least... in this thread of time."

The chill in Jinx's bones spiked. It was offset by a jolt of adrenaline tracing her spine, down to the coldness of the pistol tucked into the belt at her lower-back, its shape hidden in sheaves of fabric. The pistol she carried everywhere. The pistol that went warm now. Empty chamber; live bullets. She hadn't fired it in a while.

She had no qualms firing it tonight.

"I ain't your damn sister." Puffpuff materialized in her palm; the safety disengaged with a lethally soft click. "Back up a smidge, sweetcheeks, and drop the riddle-me-this routine. Got somewhere I gotta be, so make it snappy: who're you and what're you after?"

Those odd eyes zeroed in on the pistol; the languid bearing shifted. No shock, but a secret respect. Just enough to turn that predatory prowl benign, dial down the tension from ten to five. She even added a tiny twist of smile, meant to beguile.

Jinx stood her ground.

"They know me by many names, Little Sister," the girl murmured. "Same as you. But you may call me the Wishing Star. A deal-maker. One who grants desires and paves paths."

"Neat-o manifesto," Jinx said, "for a cathouse. Zaun's got plenty, hon. Market's a mite oversaturated."

The smile twisted: amusement turned inward. "Your father would know a thing or two about that, too. Though, as a rule, it's not the sort of talk a man passes down to his daughter's ear. Or past her lips. At least not lips this pretty..."

Cool as ice, Jinx jammed the muzzle against the girl's throat. She fell still. Jinx could practically see the flutterbeats at the jugular.

"Since you've been payin' such close attention to my lips, dollface..." Jinx drawled, "take the extra trouble to read 'em in full. Keep up this charade, and it's one big boom, and a short hard splat. Our ginnels are no strangers to gunfire."

"True." The smile held. "Zaun is a city steeped in blood. Since time immemorial. Or is it time forward? I lose track sometimes."

"Yeah, well. Your time's up. Either spit out what you gotta say, or scram. Fast."

The muzzle dug deeper into flesh. Still those eyes held Jinx fast. The girl didn't flinch; didn't even blink.

"Who do you seek tonight, Little Sister?" she whispered. "And who, left to Fate's design, will you choose?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." The gun held steady. "On second thought? Who gives a rat's ass what you'd like. I've had enough of this yakkety-yak. Get to stepping, Scotch Brite. Otherwise I'll be blowing more'n birthday candles when the fireworks go off."

The girl's smile, at last, flattened. But she didn't seem afraid. More resigned.

"As you wish, Spiderweaver." The girl stepped back; the threat abated. "Our kind do nothing by halves, do they? Including keeping promises."

"Name's not Spiderweaver, and you're just about thiiiiiiiiis far—" Jinx held the forefinger and thumb of her free hand a millimeter apart, "from gettin' your brains spattered across the walls."

"It doesn't matter what I name you. What matters is that I warned you."

"Warned me of what, exactly? Besides the time-honored adage, 'Don't stick your gun in crazies'?"

"Time." Again the smile came. Just enough to send a prickle along Jinx's skin. "It is the favorite string of Fate. And it is winding itself around you, Spiderweaver. A web of webs. I advise you to watch your step. Lest the threads come tangled."

"Ugh!"

Disgust trumped Jinx's disquiet. Even the deja vu pancaked into the same sense of anti-climax as when Jinx, reeling from one too many cocktail-induced all-nighters, woke up in Viktor's workshop in the middle of a particularly steamy daydream about Ekko, only to find her guts skewered by nausea and her body propelled against its will straight into the nearest wastebin.

This whole exchange felt exactly like that. Deceptively promising on the surface; just crap underneath.

Jinx aimed: point-blank.

"See. This is the kind of tripe that comes with hanging with cultists too long. Loopy hokum, bogus prophecy and general lack of brain cells. I should know. Vik's cult of creepos get this way every Tuesday!" Her eyes slitted; blisteringly bright. "Now listen up, crazypants. One, don't ever call me that stupid name again. Two, stop pretending that fate, destiny and all that crap means anything between Jack and Squat in the grand scheme of my spare time. Three? If I catch you anywhere between my crosshairs again, your noggin gets blown to fine pink confetti. Ya get me?"

"I do." There was the barest tenor of disappointment in the girl's tone. It humanized her. Made her easier to dismiss. "I understand. Be well, Little Spider."

"Get bent, Space Cadet."

The shadows swallowed the strange girl's receding silhouette. Jinx's unease lingered.

She pushed past it. Hootenannies this hopped-up attracted all sorts: some cracked in the head, others just plain cracked. This gal had both sides of the coin covered, no question.

Jinx wondered if she was here alone, or on the clock for someone bigger. A messenger, maybe. Some shadowy threat looming behind the scenes.

Better keep on high alert tonight. If that meeting was a prelude, then trouble was sure to follow. Good thing trouble and Jinx's trigger-finger were intimately acquainted. In a city where chaos was currency, staying ahead of the game was a nonnegotiable.

And Jinx, pockets heavy with heat, kept her reflexes primed.

Distantly, the Old Hungry tolled eight o' clock. Jinx let each resonant gong dispel her funk. Tonight was not a night for carnage, however tempting the targets.

She had a different hunt in mind.

Over the rooftops, Billy spun dizzying circles. His dark wings folded sharp and sleek: he issued a single eye-splitting caw, then swooped away.

Coast Clear, he signaled.

Proceed to next stage of Operation Name-Day-Dicking-Down.

Jinx's lips curled into a smile.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Ian McDonald's "The Wilding"

I'll be in TUCSON, AZ from November 8-10: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

Ian McDonald is one of those absurdly brilliant novelists that just leave me wondering the actual fuck he manages it. How does he cover so much ground, think up so many compelling characters, find so many gracenotes, conjure up so many complicated emotions?

McDonald burst on the scene in the late 1980s, with the 1988 novel Desolation Road and then his 1989 Out On Blue Six, a slick, stylized cyberpunk-meets-Orwell tale that overflowed with beautiful prose, technomysticism, and sly jokes that hid sneaky truths that hid even more sly jokes:

https://memex.craphound.com/2014/01/20/out-on-blue-six-ian-mcdonalds-brilliant-novel-is-back/

By my count, McDonald has now published twenty books – mostly novels, but a couple short story collections (and the most amazingly demented, Tom-Waits-inflected teddybear murder comic imaginable, 1994's Kling Klang Klatch):

https://irishcomics.fandom.com/wiki/Kling_Klang_Klatch

McDonald's work is truly globespanning. While he's made his mark on the Martian soil, and overtaken the moon with the Luna trilogy (his definitive rebuttal to Heinlein's Moon Is a Harsh Mistress) he is widely adored and much-awarded for the glittering, futuristic versions of Brazil (Brasyl), Tanzania (the Chaga series), and India (River of Gods).

Indeed, McDonald's imagination has roamed so far over the Earth and the solar system that it's possible to overlook his fantastic reimaginings of Ireland, the land where he was raised. There's his Philip K Dick Award-winning 1991 novel King of Morning, Queen of Day, a swirling, mythopoeic novel of Celtic mysticism:

https://www.baen.com/king-of-morning-queen-of-day.html

And then there's 1992's Hearts, Hands and Voices, which is lowkey one of the best novels I have ever, ever read – a scorching science fictional allegory for The Troubles, but with the gnarliest biotech weirdness you can possibly imagine:

https://archive.org/details/heartshandsvoice0000ianm/mode/2up

McDonald's books cover so much goddamned ground, but one feature they all share is a prose styling wherein every sentence is at least 20% poetry, a fraction that somehow, impossibly, rises to as much as 150% in certain especially shiny passages.

Like this passage, which opens The Wilding, McDonald's new horror novel that marks his first return to Ireland since 1992:

Autumn lay on the great bog in silvers and tans, late purples and duns.

The sun rose above the tall ash saplings and feral sycamore. It called the birds into full voice. Stabbing shrills, tumbles of notes, the flutes of dove-call, frantic ticking hisses, song upon song. In hedgerows and copses, among the pale foliage of the birches, in the weave of deep willow and the bramble fastnesses, each bird called and was heard. In this season the peatland held the day's warmth through the night and on the bright, clear mornings rivers of mist formed, filling the subtle hollow places in the exposed cuttings, the bogs and fields. High sun would dispel it but at this hour half of Lough Carrow lay mist-bound. Each blade of grass hung heavy with dew, the clumps of sedges were already browning, the bracken curling and crisping.

A pair of horns lifted above the willow scrub and out-grown ash hedges of the Wilding. Polished tips caught the low sun and kindled as bright and keen as spears.

https://www.gollancz.co.uk/titles/ian-mcdonald/the-wilding/9781399611503/

Oof.

I would drop everything to read Ian McDonald's grocery lists but after that opening, I wasn't going to put this one down, and I didn't, reading the whole thing on yesterday's flight home from my gigs in Atlanta this week.

The Wilding is (I'm pretty sure?) McDonald's first horror novel, and it's fucking terrifying. It's set in a rural Irish peat bog that has been acquired by a conservation authority that is rewilding it after a century of industrial peat mining that stripped it back nearly to the bedrock. This rewilding process has been greatly accelerated by the covid lockdowns, which reduced the human footprint in the conservation area to nearly zero.

The story's protagonist is Lisa, a hard-case Dubliner who came to the bog to do community service after a career as a crime syndicate driver for hire, a woman who never met a car she couldn't boost and pilot in or out of any tight situation. After years in the bog, she's ready to start a new life, studying Yeats at university, indulging a late-discovered love of poetry that has as much to do with her redemption as her years in the wild.

Lisa's last duty before she leaves the bog and goes home to Dublin is leading a school group on a wild campout in one of the bog's deep clearings. It's a routine assignment, and while it's not her favorite duty, it's also not a serious hardship.

But as the group hikes out to the campsite, one of her fellow guides is killed, without warning, by a mysterious beast that moves so quickly they can barely make out its monstrous form. Thus begins a tense, mysterious, spooky as hell story of survival in a haunted woods, written in the kind of poesy that has defined McDonald's career, and which – when deployed in service of terror – has the power to raise literal goosebumps.

There's a lot of fantasy that deals with Celtic mythology, including McDonald's own King of Morning, Queen of Day, but the vibe of that stuff tends to the heroic and romantic – sure, there's the odd banshee, but in the main, it's mischievous wee people, pookas, and leprechauns. More fey than fear.

But Irish mythology in its raw form is terrifying. The monsters of Irish storytelling are grotesque, mean, remorseless, and come in every shape and size. Some authors have done well by going back to the bestiary for the deep cuts. When I was a kid, I must have read John Coyne's Hobgoblin fifty times (mostly because it was about D&D, which I was obsessed with). I haven't read this one since I was about 12, and I have no idea if it'd hold up today, but it left me with a deep appreciation of the spooky multifariousness of monsters who dwell in Ireland's bogs:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hobgoblin_(novel)

The Wilding is a suspense novel, which means there's no way to really sum up the plot without spoiling a lot of the affect, but suffice to say that McDonald brings large swathes of deep Irish lore to the surface, and it had me reading as fast as I could and wanting to put the book down and hide.

What a writer McDonald is! The fact that this is the same guy who wrote last year's stunning secret-history/solarpunk/uncategorizable wonder that was Hopeland beggars belief:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/30/electromancy/#the-grace

Read you some Ian McDonald novels, is what I'm trying to say. This one is only available in the UK, if that's not where you are, consider mail-ordering it. Looks like they've got stock at Forbidden Planet for £19 plus £18 shipping to the US. Worth every penny:

https://forbiddenplanet.com/424306-the-wilding-hardcover/

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/25/bogman/#erin-go-aaaaaaargh

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 53

part 1 | part 52 | ao3

cw: sex & spit & sadness; period-typical homophobia

They're on each other the second they get through Steve’s front door. Something charged and taut between them; something begging to be snapped.

It's not gentle — Eddie pushes him against the walls as he walks them toward the bedroom, tearing off clothes and palming Steve's cock just enough to get it hard. Shoves him down onto the bed and preps him quick with messy fingers, mumbling praise into the crook of his neck as he spreads him open, one, then two, then, breathless, “Three.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah,” he groans. “There you fucking go.” Frenzied flicks and thrusts, curling just right at the tip, and when he lines himself up he urges, "Come on, baby, let me in- let me—"

Steve tenses, then lets go. Sets his thoughts to run free in a field of wildflowers, lets himself sink into warm depths where his mind is quiet and his body is in flames and everything is so, so unbearably good. Eddie gives him a second to adjust, and when he moves, Steve moves with him. Earth and moon; tidal force. He plants one foot on the bed to match Eddie's frantic pace, the other leg thrown around his hip, urging him deeper, harder, in in in, and Eddie's fucking him so hard he's sliding up the sheets, so hard he can barely speak, his mouth open on one long, continuous moan.

He can't keep not saying it. He can't keep— he can't— "Eddie," he gasps, whimpering as Eddie angles his hips and strokes in deep, slick skin slapping where their bodies meet. "Eddie, I- unh, oh, fucking god, I lo- lov-"

"Stick your tongue out for me, princess."

Eddie grunts and spits in his mouth. Wet and gross and loud, splashing on Steve’s cheeks and nose, his lips, and he chases it with his tongue; licks over Steve's open mouth and fucks his tongue in deep, then pulls back to slide two fingers in and moan, "Suck my fingers while you come. That's it, honey, that's—" and Steve comes with a hoarse shout.

Eddie follows him right over. Fills him up and stays there; collapses on his chest.

He’s still inside him when the tears start.

Muffled sniffs against Steve’s collarbone, wet and warm and mixing with their cooling sweat, and Steve says, “Hey,” but there's no answer.

Eddie stifles another whimper. Steve drops his arms from his shoulders to his waist. "What's wrong?”

The question feels like putting one foot out over the quarry. Fourteen and tipsy on a dare, smiling real wide as his friends counted down from ten. The cheering, the shoulder grabs, handshakes and pats on the back, and then, and then, alone in the bushes, stomach turning as he realized they had almost let him die.

Eddie shakes his head against him; rolls his forehead back and forth on his shoulder, no and no and no. “I can’t— baby, I’m not… I’m not good.” His voice cracks, and he gives a low moan, pained and drawn out like he’s fighting off a fever. “I’m a fucking black hole.”

There's no fight in his voice — no hint of hysteria, no sing-song sarcasm, no boisterous breath. He goes soft and slips out, and it's just empty. Just dead. Speared through by the ruthless roots of old grief, and now some deep, hollow misery churns ugly truth like solar flares, the words blackened and raw and wholeheartedly believed.

And Steve wants to laugh, because he’s the black hole. He’s the rotten thing sucking Eddie into orbit. Eddie’s the brilliant star stuff spinning past his dark horizon. “No,” he says simply, squeezing his arms tighter around him. “No.”

They lie in silence for a while. Breathing out of rhythm, hearts thudding against each other's chests. Eventually Eddie falls asleep, and Steve rolls him over and tucks them in, cleans them up with a discarded t-shirt.

He stays awake for a long time; stares at the ceiling, a question tearing at his mind — a jagged thumbnail worming under the edge of a too-fresh scab:

What happens when two black holes collide?

He’d asked that once. In middle school. Raised his hand in science class, and Mr. Clarke had called the question intriguing, and Tommy H. had called him a fag. ‘Only nerds care about space shit,’ he’d taunted during recess, ‘I mean, what are we, eight?’

Steve sometimes wishes that he was still.

Wishes things could be that easy.

Wishes, more than anything, that he didn’t wake up alone.

—

part 54

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

happy endings only i promise!!

[loganwritesprobably]

Wallpaper

Synopsis: Reader likes to torment Sherlock, that’s his job as his friend, but this time something stops him Tags/Warnings: Sherlock/M!Reader, fluff, confessions, first kiss Word Count: 1158

As one of Sherlock’s four friends in the world, it was your job to torment him. Everyone else thought he was so brilliant, but you saw him for what he was: a man, who sometimes refused to shower or eat because it would interfere with his experiment. Sherlock Holmes is stinky. That alone prevented you from seeing him the way that others did, because how could you? Your favourite way to torment him was to change his phone wallpaper when he left it unattended. He’d often neglect his phone for days, sometimes weeks at a time, and so each time it was a slow burner, and you were left to go about your day until he discovered it on a random Thursday and texted you something foul. It’s the little things that make life worth living.

Sherlock was out doing something with John, his phone abandoned in the cushions of his favourite chair, when you slipped into the flat (that you, in fact, did not live in but you’d gotten a key for from John) to change his wallpaper once again. You unlocked his phone with ease, after all he never bothered changing the code to prevent you as you’d only figure it out or do it wrong until you were both locked out of his phone, and what you found surprised you.

Each time you changed his wallpaper, it was to something stupid. A diagram of the solar system to remind him that the sun is the centre of the universe; a photo of a celebrity that had come up in conversation that he didn’t know; the queen, to remind him that in fact there was a woman on the throne; a photo of his brother, just for fun; an unflattering photo you’d taken of Sherlock when he was busy. You had a lot of fun with coming up with ideas, you had an entire list in the notes app on your own phone.

This time, it wasn’t the previous image you’d picked or a default one to replace it that you found when you unlocked Sherlock’s phone. Instead, the photograph was one of you. You could tell when it was taken based on the outfit that you were wearing and the length of your hair. You’d gotten it cut about a week ago, and you’d donated the t-shirt from the photo a few days later. So, the photo itself was only a few days old. You, Sherlock and John had all gone down to see Greg about a case - you didn’t help them, you were just curious and you liked Greg, he was funny. In the corner of the image you could see John’s arm and what you assumed to be Greg’s shoe, so either he’d been quite precise or had cropped the image. Either way, you were very much the focal point.

It was quite a nice candid, honestly you’d happily post it on social media. Your head was tipped back with laughter, your eyes closed and hand on your chest, just over your heart. Sherlock hadn’t struck you as the ameteur photographer type, but he’d done well with this. You quickly flicked through and found the image in his camera roll and sent it to yourself so you could have it, and then in a reversal of roles, you set that image as your own wallpaper. For now, you left Sherlock’s phone alone.

｡ ⋆ . ⋆ ｡ ⋆ 💙˚ ｡ ⋆ ｡ ˚ 💛˚ ｡ ⋆. ｡ ⋆

A week later, a new photo prepared, you borrowed Sherlock’s phone while he was arguing with Mycroft in another room. You changed the wallpaper with ease, then when Mycroft made a comment about not answering his phone, you appeared with it in hand. “Looking for this?” You asked, handing the phone to Sherlock and winking at his brother. Both Holmes men sighed. “He doesn’t even live here, Sherlock.” Mycroft stated, unimpressed, but both of you ignored that. “What have you done now?” Sherlock muttered, unlocking his phone quickly to see what you’d done to his home screen this time. You watched as he went through many of the same emotions that you had a week prior.

Now, his home screen was changed from a photo of you, to one of himself. Typically, if you used a photo of Sherlock, it would be a deliberately unflattering one, but this time you’d taken care to make sure you got a photo that looked nice. He was sitting in his chair with a book in hand, legs crossed at his ankles. In the moment, he’d been listening to classical music on the radio and ignoring John as he talked, but you wouldn’t know that from the serene look on his face. You stepped up beside the detective and unlocked your own phone to reveal the photo he’d taken of you. “Now we match.” You said simply, then slipped away to let the brothers finish whatever they were doing.

｡ ⋆ . ⋆ ｡ ⋆ 💙˚ ｡ ⋆ ｡ ˚ 💛˚ ｡ ⋆. ｡ ⋆

Sherlock found you in your own flat later that evening, the sun already having set, a cup of tea in your hand. He let himself in, and you didn’t acknowledge him for a moment, just finishing the page of your book. “Hey.” You greeted with a smile, gesturing to the other chair in your flat, most commonly occupied by John or Sherlock. He nodded and sat down, looking at you intently. You said nothing, waiting for him to make a move. “That photograph of me..” he said, clearly struggling. A million possibilities of what he could possibly say next ran through your mind, but as you watched him you also watched as he seemed to talk himself out of whatever he’d come here to do. “Would you like to kiss me?” You asked, and that seemed to make Sherlock short circuit. You laughed and stood, closing the distance between you both, then pressed your lips together.

“You look quite handsome in that photo, if I do say so myself.” You said when you pulled back, suddenly startled by Sherlock taking your hand and pulling you back in for another kiss. You hummed softly, your brain catching up to what was happening, and gently tangled your fingers in his hair. “So do you. You look… very handsome when you laugh.” Sherlock said when you separated, words soft, like he was afraid of breaking the moment between you. “Sherlock Holmes,” you said, a grin firmly in place on your lips, hand on your chest, “was that a compliment?” “It was.” He said simply, and the raw look of adoration that you could see in his eyes threw you for a loop, almost knocking the wind out from you. You couldn’t help leaning down to steal another kiss.

“A date,” he then said, “next week, Tuesday, 7pm, I’ll make the reservation.” Your brows raised, surprised he was taking the initiative to plan things himself, but you nodded. “Let me know what the dress code is, and I’ll make sure John gets a nice photo of us for your wallpaper.”

Tag list: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @cainnoable @hyperfixationthingss

If you'd like to tip me you can head over to my Kofi

[whumpedupgood]

First they were attacked from behind, a swarm of attackers lunging at them from the shadows. Their arms wrenched behind their back until their shoulders creaked, the fragile crying out of bones and ligaments before they snap. They’re not expecting the quick punch to the solar plexus or how it steals the breath from their lungs. Before they can gasp for air, blunt punches rain down from every angle. Both cheeks catch different sets of knuckles at the same moment. Something crunches. Their head drops forward - trying to hide, trying to escape - and a fist bangs down on the crown of their head like with all the hesitation of someone banging on the breakfast table. A tight grip fists through their hair, tilting their face up towards the shadows, and the blow that comes leaves blood spilling from their mouth, their teeth, their numbless formless lips. Held tight by restraining arms, their soft underbelly is exposed to the assault of someone aiming over and over for the space below their ribs.

Someone changes tactics, looking for an unmarked spot, and when the punch hits their chest, a sharp ring pops through the skin. Then another, and another, until blood flattens the shirt to their heaving, panicked chest.

With lips swollen and their own iron on their tongue, they barely register the gag until it is far too late. The rough fabric slotted and pulled into place, stretching their jaw around the thick wad until it feels like they’ll suffocate. Tears flee down their cheeks, itchy and mingling at the corners of their stretched maw, slipping behind the gag to clog what little air they have left.

They only have a moment, a short gasp of relief, to revel that the blows have stopped.

The loud rip of tape.

Someone’s hand, wide and warm on their forehead, tilting them back so that another can carefully seal tape over the gag. Fingers digging against a swelling jaw. Cursing when they find moisture. A sleeve wiping their cheeks clean. Fingers again, carefully affixing the tape into place and making sure the corners are pressed down tight.

A bag slides over their head, replacing shadows with terrifying clarity of the senses. The rank smell of their own fear and sweat. The rippling spasms through their abdomen, muscles tensing and untensing as they fight against anticipated blows. The oppressive heat of bodies, so many bodies, crowding them from every side. Surrounded. Arms held captive with warning pressure pushing into the sockets of each shoulder. The hands on the front of their chest keeping them upright. Another set of hands on their hips, holding them in place or keeping them from sliding to the ground.

They jump as hands clasp around their head, palms flattened over their ears. A muffled discussion happens above them, and then the hands are pulled away and in their absence comes a familiar weight made foreign through the distance of the cloth.

Noise canceling headphones.

A switch flicks on and the world shifts into a mute.

The grip holding their arms back relaxes. Pins and needles rush in to greet the tips of their fingers, which wriggle of their volition like fish baited by the hook. Their arms shake with the effort of existing, and no sooner have they sensed freedom than they’re grabbed again, this time by the elbows, nearly lifted off their feet as they’re dragged forward forward, until they exit the alley, until the cold unencumbered wind kisses the new wet spots on their cheeks through the rough cloth bag. Until they’re pushed against something, the hard knock of something unmovable against their legs that sends them sprawling forward. Until their captors with their hard grips step inside, and the ground shakes under them, a vehicle creaking at the weight. Until their captors tug the helpless inside behind them. Until the door that slams shut is a whisper of air and the arrival of instinctive of knowing when the trap has sprung shut.

Until they’re sat, shivering, between two unknown masses who are blood warm with the weight of their violence. The heady promise of anticipation in the air that comes from knowing they will taste it again soon.

Until all they can do is shiver in revulsion at the heat.

Until sitting takes a taxing toll, leaves them shriveled up in pain and leaning against the same brutal bodies for support. Until one of them releases their elbow and, in the cruelest parody of gentleness, wraps their arm over their shoulder instead, encouraging them to rest.

Until all they can do is choke on their own gasping sobs, gagging when the intruder in their mouth won’t even grant them that much. Until they’re quiet; until they’re numb.

Until all they can do is wait.