assessed him as he tightened the buckles of his suit and slipped his leather
nodded. Tanaka was quiet and tugged at Suga’s sleeve smoothing out the wrinkles
carefully, as if lost in thought. Suga inspected his features a moment, and
then flashed a bright smile at him.
fine! I’ll be back by dawn. Don’t worry.”
wind is strong today.” The he grinned: ”So bring my glider back in one piece!”
Suga laughed, and punched his shoulder, laughing harder as Tanaka stumbled,
holding his arm.
took the glider and lifted it above his hands, running upwind and then jumped,
and as the glider took under the winder and rose higher, Suga hoisted himself
on it and started the engine with a press of his sole on the start pedal.
watched him go until he was but a spot in the horizon.
Then, with a
grim expression, he turned back for the village.
The “mix tape,”
as Castiel understands it, is an expression of devotion. Music is a
common expression of emotion; music is an extension of the human
soul. Though Castiel appreciates music, there is very little close to
Castiel’s own heart that plays within the range of human hearing.
Reciprocating the gesture exactly seems destined to fail. But a mix
tape, Castiel reasons, is a compilation of messages signifying
thoughts, dreams, emotions, the soul. He can work with the general
Dean heads to bed
half dead with exhaustion, up too late researching what looks to be a
new monster gobbling people in Southwest border towns. He misses the
box at first. It’s almost the same color as his bedspread. But he
jostles it when he collapses onto his mattress and it rattles. “What the–?”
Dean flips open the
lid and stares for a moment at the jumble inside, confused. There’s a
cross-cut spiral sea shell that catches the light with a milky
sheen. He pulls stiff handmade paper wrapped in twine. Dean unwraps
it to find a pressed violet, purple petals spread perfectly to
display its still vibrant yellow streaked center. There’s a glass
bird, blown from forest green glass. There’s a peanut butter jar.
Emptied of food, it now holds black loam with one perfect oval stone on top. There’s a rolled up piece
of paper with a drawing of a 1967 Chevy Impala, perfectly rendered. Dean
and Sam lean against the car laughing, their smiles carefully etched in fine, thin pencil strokes. Dean takes all of these and lays
them out on the bedspread, body curled around the spread like a
dragon protecting its hoard
Outside he hears a
timid knock. Dean looks up and he knows his emotions sit on his face
like a ten foot tall neon sign when he says, “come on in.” Cas opens
the door, but doesn’t step inside. He looks apprehensive, though Dean
can tell he’s trying to hide it. Cas’s face is war-stiff but his eyes
are a little too wide, brows a little too high.
“You do this?”
Dean asks, needlessly.
Cas balls his fists
at his side. “You, uh– I wanted to…return the gesture.” He
looks half terrified but his gaze stays riveted on Dean like it’s the
only thing keeping him afloat in the ocean.
Dean looks back down
at the bedspread. “A mix tape,” he says before looking up with a
grin. “You did good, Cas.”
Cas relaxes into the
door frame and Dean extends his hand to him. “C'mere,” he says.
“Tell me about everything.”
Egg ribbon rebel! Most sea slugs’ egg ribbons are made so only the edges touch the ground and it’s sort of a 3D spiral. C. ornatissima, however, lays a flat spiral egg ribbon instead! It doesn’t conform to the usual egg ribbon standard! 🍥
(You guys have sent in some asks about Sam which put him back in my mind. I got this idea this morning and when I couldn’t shake it, I knew it was worth writing. Funny how things work out like that lmao.)
Description: A chance encounter allows you one final meeting with your ex-lover.
He is here, slinking around like
a cat; thinking that no one has noticed him.
But you have.
How could you not?
After everything that you have
gone through with him, you still know his scent: cigarette smoke clinging to
his clothes and his cheap aftershave. At one point, you had found it endearing.
Now, it brings back a swirl of memories.
Do you seek him out? To what
end? The two of you have disintegrated – there is nothing left to be collected.
You find yourself scanning the room for the confirmation of what you already
know: your ex, Sam Drake, is here.
In hindsight, you shouldn’t be
surprised. This is an auction, after all, and there is probably an item to lift
or some sort of information to recover. That has always been the problem with
Sam…and one of the things that had made you fall in love with him. You hover by
the balcony. He is probably out here, smoking. Waiting for whatever it is that
he has come to collect.
The inner world of Jupiter in the second is an atlas filled with ice cream sundaes, sweet silk, golden philosophy, and sensuality. The individual can undertake tremendous indwelling journeys and experience grand delight in the midst of sensory orchestra. The feeling of soft fabric against her skin, the taste of gourmet, the sweet melody of sound in her ear generates a larger than life, ripe, exuberant feeling. Jupiter in the second is like a dream that has been written in real life. There is a high receptivity to pleasure, and this is a real desire to personally experience all of the luxuries the universe has to offer. She can smell the aroma of the moon and hitch a hammock between two daisies as she floats in the wind. The world is her treasure box.
Worldly sensation is tuned into high volume with Jupiter in the second. The wind echoes, clouds sing, grass squeals under her feet, books call her name, and personal reflection is like walking through a rainbow kingdom. There tends to be a spectacular skill for spotting business opportunities and moments for financial growth. This is a favorable placement for enterprise and entrepreneurship. The individual’s security and material needs can become consuming and impossible to satiate. Surroundings are an extension of her self expression, whether this be closets full of designer clothes or a cozy cottage cluttered with collectibles. The dreams that reside within are like playgrounds she can slide and fly through. Jupiter in the second people typically express a good sense of morality and ethics. Feelings of self grandiosity tend to manifest positively. There could be a natural intimacy with spirituality and earthly law and rhythm. Like the seasons that roll or the flowers that wilt and bloom, Jupiter in the second individuals have a good faith in nature’s cycles. They know if they entrust their hearts to the universe it will take good care of them.
It’s like Jupiter in the second people enjoy playing with the universe by lighting candles, evoking light, colour, and sound, and making magic out of material. Creativity is rich, expansive and stirs from the most lyrical and lovely depths of the spirit. The individual may delight in developing a craft, especially of intellectual kind. The higher mind is decorated in bubblegum icing and rose petals, a true palace of spiritual wisdom and scripture. Adventures can take place internally, while the individual is in reverie, esoteric contemplation, or stimulating learning environments. The individual’s style may reflect many cultural or spiritual expressions, and there is a tremendous delight in movement and exploration. The physical body yearns to spiral through the valleys of the earth and sea. There may be a seductive fascination with exotic cuisine, items of cultural heritage, and spiritual artifacts. Charles Carter suggests that the second house psychologically relates to one’s contentment and ability to enjoy life. With exuberant Jupiter spinning the wheel of fortune, the individual’s inner wealth is threaded with gold and caramel milkshake frosting. Like the stars that sing symphonies for her, every sensory material creates a mesmerizing magic of its own.
Just another Hollywood lesbian AU. Trixie is a struggling music artist finally discovered by a sleazy Hollywood manager; however, his Russian trophy bride (along with her small-waisted young lover) complicate and confuse Trixie’s rise to the top as a legend, icon, and star.
A/N: This took a little longer than I expected. Apologies. I’ve still got one or two more chapters in me before it’s curtains. No overt Vatya content this time. (Which, is sad to me, because I’m Vatya trash but…whatever.)
Ute Nagat was a man not often defied. As one with the stature of a
giant he received the obedience of those cowed by physique alone. As
a member of the Society of Yern Hunters he received the submission of
those willing to bow to authority and experience. As a member of the
Nagat line he was served by those respecting his long and storied
lineage. Such was his right.
There was no doubt in Ute’s mind that he would not be defied by the
world either, for he knew he would be the first to find Yern, a city
lost to the writhing jungle of the Madlands centuries before. The self-assurance that made his failure to date all the more galling.
After his last expedition returned with vast treasures but no new
knowledge of the lost city, he had immersed himself in the archives
of his order. He searched through vault after vault of painstakingly
collected knowledge about the vast swathe of the world hostile to
human life itself. In endless stacks of shipping manifests,
historical accounts of petty deeds, and overwhelming numbers of death
receipts, he eventually found a single, solitary, solid lead to
follow. In this, as in all things, Ute had no plans on being defied.