I feel safe. Yes, it feels like that.
@swsourceâ star wars week: day 6 â may the 4th be with you!
seen from Slovakia

seen from Australia

seen from Italy
seen from United States
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seen from South Korea
seen from Italy

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Italy
seen from Germany
seen from Australia

seen from United States

seen from United States
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seen from Ukraine
seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from Colombia
I feel safe. Yes, it feels like that.
@swsourceâ star wars week: day 6 â may the 4th be with you!

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We've seen a bit of Soap during interrogation, right?
But, hypothetically, for the sake of this argument, and based of this reel from dancropley on instagram...
You're not even one of Makarov's soldiers, spies, or anything of the sort. You just happened to have a conversation with a stranger on the street that was caught on security footage and now you're being accused of being involved with an international terrorist.
The sergeant walks in, clad in tactical gear save for a simple dark blue compression shirt. He's holding a folder with printouts of screenshots from the camera footage, some other files, and a lot of technical jargin you really don't understand.
"Right then," he rasps in a Sottish accent. "Ye comfortable? Need water, or..."
Despite being one of the men who detained you, Soap only seems to be getting a good look at your face now.
"...wine, perhaps?"
"What?"
A muffled voice can be heard from his earpiece. You can't make out what it says, but Soap clears his throat and gets back on topic to actual questions.
"Where were ye at 21:00 last night?"
"I was at home."
"Ye got anyone who could verify tha'? Boyfriend, perhaps?"
"Uh, no. No boyfriend..."
"Johnny." The voice over his earpiece is louder and clearer this time, no that Soap pays it any mind. He just directs his attention back to the files in front of him.
"Do ye own any weapons or firearms?" His eyes meet yours. "Other than those eyes?"
"What?"
"I'm gonna level wit' ye, we're gonnae be chargin' ye wit' posession of explosives."
"WHAT??"
"'Cause yer butt is the bomb."
That's when Ghost steps in because he's frankly over having to watch this shit.
------
Masterlist
imagine lohen meeting the new recruits of the knights and find out about the medic reader who just happens to have a thing for toxins
Hi Anon,
Lohen's character trailer dropped when I was writing this. Mother, Father, I love him so much. Please Lohen, be kind to me today, and I shall be kind to you. I'll let you top promise. I didn't even write you drinking toxins, so you could be fucked high out of your mind as a sign of respect.
It's a bit daring, even by Lohen's standards, to throw himself so deeply into his role as Vice-Captain of the Fifth Company of the Knights of Favonius. With a title that long, he's practically obligated to go above and beyond. Sure, he's infiltrated guarded hideouts, masqueraded as an auctioneer's merchandise inside a steel cage, and posed as a trainee knight to blend in. But he can't say he's ever willingly ingested poison for the cause, though the green sheen on his knives, courtesy of his own concoctions, does hold a certain allure.
"How do you feel, Vice-Captain? Dizzy? Any numbness?"
There's a voice speaking to him, but it sounds so far away. He knows someone is talking to him, yet he can't quite pinpoint where it's coming from. Did he somehow accidentally take a stronger dose than he should have? His size doesn't exactly lend itself to a higher tolerance, after all. His thoughts are cut off by something cold pressing against his cheek, small and slender- perhaps a finger? Whatever it is, the touch lasts only a second before pulling away. Something scratches against something else before the voice returns, "Hm, your skin is quite cold for someone who looks so feverish. Is it because of your Cryo vision? I can't say I have much experience with Cryo users, and Captain Kaeya doesn't seem nearly as generous as you. Ah, sorry, I shouldn't speak badly about my superiors."
Lohen tries to speak. His lips feel fuzzy when he presses them together, and his eyes can barely stand to open. He hasn't felt this off-kilter since he was a child, still learning how to fight. Regardless, he was never raised to be a quitter, and with a wheezy rasp, he manages to force the words out, "What...d-did you..do?"
the placements that make people careful about lying to you because they feel like you can see right through their mask
pluto sitting on the ascendant or scorpio rising you don't have to say a word for people to feel like they are standing in a high stakes interrogation. your gaze is a physical touch that lands straight on the raw bone of reality. when someone tries to tell you a small lie they can feel you performing a surgery on their words in real time. they become careful because your presence suggests that you have already seen the worst parts of life and that their little performance is just a waste of your time. you own the dark and they know better than to try and hide in it.
mercury in scorpio or the 8th house you hear the things people choose not to say and you notice the motives they are trying to hide from themselves. your mind is a detective that never hits the sleep button. a casual conversation for you is a deep dive into the psychological wreckage of the person across from you. they feel the need to be honest because you listen to the silence between their sentences and the way their eyes shift when they mention a specific memory. you sound like a late night confession and they realize they can't win against a mind that already has the keys to their basement.
mercury in virgo or the 6th house your intellect is a high definition camera that catches the one detail that doesn't fit the story. people are careful about lying to you because you notice the tiny shift in their tone or the one inconsistency in their logic that ruins the whole lie. you have a built in radar for what is real and what is a mess and they can sense your sharp focus even when you are being perfectly kind. you are the editor who sees every typo in their character and they are terrified of what you will find if they keep talking.
moon in the 8th house you pick up on the hidden grief and the unspoken hunger of a room long before the dialogue even starts. your emotional intelligence is an x-ray vision that bypasses the polite smiles and the fake laughter. people feel exposed in your orbit because you react to the feelings they haven't admitted to themselves yet. it is a psychic awareness that makes others feel like their soul is being read like a book in a dark room. they are careful with you because you look like the person who already knows how the story ends.
mercury aspecting pluto this is the signature of the psychological autopsy. whether it is a conjunction a square or an opposition your mind is wired to dig until you hit the truth. you ask the one question that cuts through the bullshit and you stay quiet until the real answer comes out. people feel naked when they talk to you as if every word they speak is being measured for its weight and its honesty. you have zero patience for the surface and your intensity forces others to either be real or run for the exit.
sun or moon in the 12th house you walk through the crowd like a ghost who knows all the secret passageways. people are careful with you because you possess a blurry and ethereal quality that makes you look like you are tuned into a different reality entirely. they sense that you see their ghosts and the baggage they carry in their bones. they don't lie to you because you look like an oracle who is just waiting for them to finally stop performing and just be human. your silence is a bridge to their own secrets.
saturn in the 1st house or capricorn rising you carry the authority of a mountain peak and an internal judge that nobody wants to disappoint. people see you and they instinctively check their own integrity or straighten their clothes. your presence feels like a courtroom where the standard for being real is remarkably high. they are careful with their words because they respect your grit and they assume you are already counting their failures. you look like the only adult in the building and they realize that a lie would never survive your scrutiny.
personal planets at the 29th degree you carry the weary wisdom of a veteran who has already finished the game. you have seen every lie and every mask lifetimes ago and nothing about the social dance feels new to you. people find it impossible to deceive you because your eyes carry the weight of a story that ended long ago. you already know the ending of their sentence before they even start it and your quiet acknowledgment of their truth is the only thing that makes them feel seen. you are the master who doesn't need to speak to be heard.
mercury aspecting saturn you don't trust a thought unless it has a backbone and people can feel the precision of your logic from miles away. you treat every conversation like a legal contract and you have zero patience for people who talk in circles or use empty words to hide a lack of substance. they are careful with you because you are the reality check they didn't ask for but definitely needed. you see the flaw in their logic before they even finish the lie and they realize that their house of cards won't stand a second in your orbit.
moon aspecting pluto your emotions possess a magnetic power that can alter the atmosphere of a building. you pick up on the hidden power dynamics and the secret shame of every person you meet and it makes people feel incredibly careful around you. they can sense that you want a total soul merger and that any attempt at being shallow is a personal insult to your depth. you are the ride or die person who knows exactly where the secrets are buried and they realize that once they meet you there is no going back to the polite lies.
a heavy scorpio stellium you are a concentrated dose of the deep end and you possess an absolute commitment to the raw truth. you have survived self reinventions that would have broken anyone else and that kind of resilience acts like a truth serum for everyone in your circle. people don't lie to you because they realize you are the person who stays when things get real and they are terrified of what it would cost to lose your loyalty. you own the dark and you are the only one they trust with the jewels.
Broken Hourglass. ( Ryland Grace x Reader. ) Part Three.
I can already see the messages and comments this going to get so let me preface this--- IM SORRY.
Title: Broken Hourglass. Pairing: Heavily Implied - Ryland Grace x Reader. Rating: T. ( Some suggestive content, MEGA ANGST Prepare the tissues. ) Words: 9.3 K. Summary: ( WARNING !!!!! This does include spoilers for the BOOK version of PHM. ) The past always finds a way to come back and haunt you, especially in the moments when you need it most. PART THREE OF THE YOU SLEEP, I YEARN SERIES. Part One · · â ·â¶Â· â · · Part Two. · â ·â¶Â· â · ·âRyland Grace Masterlistâ
The small bar tucked away in the corner of Strattâs Vat was a remarkably pathetic attempt at normalcy, down the the beer selection of Bud Light in blue or Budweiser in red. The colors interchangeably tangled into a mess of coiled wires in your mind as you stared at the sad-looking fish tank bubbling away in the corner. The dim lighting cast long shadows and the quiet hum of the tank filter was a poor substitute for the usual laughter that filled the room along with god-awful and off-key singing.
The silence around you was fragile, capsized by copious amounts of darkness that could crush you in an instant and you felt powerless to stop it and it was becoming all consuming. It was silent due to the drawn, eggshell thoughts that kept racing in your mind. You were nursing a drink, staring into the blue-lit water, admiring and feeling sad for the listless fish swimming endless circles. The recycled air felt too thick in your lungs like you bore the risk of drowning, heavy with the ghost of millions upon millions of people who were going to die in the next twenty years.
It had been three days since youâd watched an entire continent die in a matter of moments. Sure, you took a swig of the beer and felt disgusted at how warm it had gotten, it could be argued that it was âjustâ a chunk of ice, but how many more were there going to be? How many in a few years when the methane blanket it produces fades and theyâre forced to blow off another? And then another, and another⊠You shut your eyes and could almost see the blinding light of the blast behind them despite being far away when it happened. Itâs like your mind decided to be morbid and paint you a picture for what your bones felt and were chilled with when the shockwave hit you, fifteen minutes delayed and carrying with it the time and aged history of a place that children in the future would only be able to read about in books. Three days since you had stood on the observation deck, Ryland, a rigid, unpeaceful presence beside you, LeClerc beside him, unraveled into an unparalleled sense of existential dread as Stratt announced how much longer until you changed the physical shape of the world because Humanâs had a nasty habit of being parasitic in the worst ways possible. A man lost his own sense of self that day and trusted Ryland enough to hold him through it. It was never going to be enough.Â
Damned if you do, damned if you donât. It had to happen for the survival of a race you were beginning to wonder was even worth saving at all.Â
The door creaked open just enough to captivate your senses. There was no sense in looking up from your drink, the rhythm of the footsteps, the slight hesitation before they fully entered the room. It was unmistakably Ryland. He shuffled a bit in the entry way as if heavily contemplating if he wanted to be in the dark, misty cloud you had been weathering. And then - out of your peripheral vision, the decision was made and his tall, heavy body moved to the bar, his shoulders slumped as he sat on the stool two down from you.
There was a chasm of empty space between you that felt as vast as the void of the ocean outside the viewport in the stuffy room. Ryland didn't order, but the bartender placed one of two options in front of him regardless. A crisp, cool Bud Light.

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KINKTOBER DAY TWENTY
Prompt: Mirror Sex + Dub con.
Synopsis: Getting out from a long shower, you find your mirror oddly placed in front of your bed, and a ghost-like figure roaming itself over your body.
Warnings: Dub Con, penetration, mirror sex, forced orgasm
Invisible! Man X Gender Neutral! Reader
There was a certain kind of pleasure in living alone. You could turn your music up as loud as you wanted, leave dirty clothes strung around the living room, and come out of the shower naked, just a towel in your hands used to ring out your hair.
Water droplets still fell from your body, feet padded by the soft rug of your bedroom as you shut the bathroom light off. Steam from the shower escaped from the door cracks, a remnant of the hot water that was nothing but an afterglow now.
Your bedroom was cold by comparison, air conditioning running loud and pumping hard as it made the hair on your skin stand, goosebumps rising as the vent blew against your back.Â
â° MADE OF SILK
â summary: logan can't help but be obsessed with you in your pretty nightgowns.
‿ logan howlett x reader / cw: suggestive with sexual tension, soft intimacy, cuddling, loving touch, protective behavior, soft, fluffy, I wrote this with worst!logan in mind but I think you can imagine any logan you want.
‿ word count! 1k
Company for the Forgotten
Pugsly Addams x Reader(itâs so hard to find a good gif for himđ„Č)
Warnings: slow-burn romance, Wednesday Addams being an unsettlingly observant sibling, protective sister interrogation scene, vulnerable emotional moments, reader is blunt but caring, soft but awkward affection, comfort scene with mutual feelings confessed, mentions of jealousy and people using Pugsley for his family connection, wholesome greenhouse snake pet (Slurp), overall Addams Family vibes with a hint of warmth under the creepy charm.
đȘâšRingmasterâs pre-show chatterâŠâšđȘ
This one-shot? Born from this particular spark of madness. I dressed the reader in the ethereal silks of Spectra Vondergeist from Monster High only sheâs half-human, half-ghost. (How? Donât ask me, I donât know). The circus runs on mystery and bad logistics. For the personality, I borrowed the gentle mischief of Sirena Von Boo, also from Monster High, because I thought it would dance beautifully alongside Pugsleyâs chaotic little soul. And if you have any suggestions? Step right up and whisper them to the Ringmaster, my tent is always open to new tricks. Signed in lace, glitter, and ghostly giggles, your Ringmaster đđ€ p.s here is the slurp confusion explainedish
đȘâšRingmasterâs despairing announcementâŠâšđȘ
P.S. I was forced by the cruel gods of Tumblr coding to transform Slurp into one of those carnivorous garden plants that snack on people. Why? Because every time I tried posting the zombie version, the entire act vanished into the void. Maybe I got too vivid with the gore, maybe Tumblr just hates my circus whoâs to say. Either way, after rewriting this four separate times, I refuse to weep myself into the Ringmasterâs pillow again. So please, take this botanical abomination and enjoy the show as it is, if you donât like it thatâs fine but could someone tell me how to fix the whole thing deleting(if it happens to them). ENJOY đ. Signed with wilted roses and manic laughter, your Ringmaster đđ€
Masterlist
[Nevermore Quad, Midday]
The sun was shining just enough to make the stained-glass windows of Nevermoreâs main hall glitter, but the quad wasnât exactly warm. You hovered just a few inches off the ground, your translucent shimmer flickering faintly before you let yourself drift down again. Being half-ghost had its perks walking was optional.
You spotted him almost immediately.
Pugsley Addams sat by himself on the low stone wall near the koi pond, knees drawn up, eyes scanning the ground. A few students passed by without looking his way some glanced, but didnât stop. Youâd seen it before: the subtle leave-outs, the way groups formed around him but didnât include him.
You knew that look. The alone even when surrounded look.
Drifting closer, you leaned forward until your face appeared in his peripheral vision. âYou look like youâre one snide comment away from disappearing entirely.â
He startled slightly, blinking up at you. âI wasnât⊠disappearing. Just⊠sitting.â
âSure,â you said, floating back upright. âYouâre Wednesdayâs brother, right?â
âUnfortunately for me,â he said, mouth twitching in what might have been a smile.
You grinned. âIâll pretend I didnât hear that.â
[A few days later â Slurp Duty]
It wasnât hard to find excuses to hang around him after that. Pugsley was⊠different. Quieter than you expected, but with a dry, offbeat humor that landed exactly when you least expected it.
One afternoon, you caught him heading toward the greenhouse with a bucket. âSlurp time?â you guessed.
He glanced at you. âYou know about Slurp?â
You gave him a look. âPlease. Giant carnivorous plants are basically Nevermoreâs mascot.â
The two of you ended up in the greenhouse together, you phasing through the fence instead of opening the gate just to see him roll his eyes. You floated just above the soil while he poured the contents of the bucket into Slurpâs gaping mouth.
âShe likes you,â you noted.
âShe likes food,â Pugsley corrected, but there was a hint of pride in his voice.
Over the next week, the two of you became a kind of unofficial duo. Youâd drift up beside him during free periods, heâd invite you along for Slurp duty without even asking if you were busy, and more than once youâd caught him actually seeking you out in the quad. You became a fixture in each otherâs days. If he was walking across campus, you were the half-ghost hovering beside him. If you were curled up in the corner of the library with your notebook, heâd wander over and plop down nearby.
You learned that he liked building weird little mechanical traps in his free time, you told him about your ghostly heritage how you could float, phase through walls, or vanish entirely and he learned that you sometimes got distracted mid-sentence because youâd spotted something shiny or because youâd floated halfway through a wall without realizing it.
Pugsley didnât mind. In fact, he seemed to find your wandering fascinating.
[One Afternoon]
You were sitting together on the wall by the koi pond again. He was tossing bits of bread to the fish; you were floating just above the water, your hair moving as if you were underwater.
âYou know,â you said, watching the ripples spread, âfor someone who doesnât talk much, youâre easy to be around.â
Pugsley shrugged. âYou donât make me feel like I have to say something all the time. Thatâs rare.â
You smiled at himâŠ. really smiled, the way you didnât often do. âGuess weâre both rare.â
His gaze lingered on you a little longer than usual, and you could feel the shift, the almost-there spark between you.
[Later That Week â Slurp Again]
The next time you were in the greenhouse, you caught him watching you instead of the plant. His hands were busy with the bucket, but his eyes followed you as you floated up to adjust a vine that was curling the wrong way.
âWhat?â you asked, glancing down.
âNothing,â he said, but his mouth tugged into that small, crooked smile youâd come to like. âJust⊠glad you stuck around.â
You let yourself drift closer, close enough to see the faint pink at his ears. âMe too, Addams.â
Slurp rustled behind you, but for once, neither of you looked away from each other.
[After Class, Stone Hallway]
You were on your way to meet Pugsley by the greenhouse when you noticed Wednesday leaning against the wall just outside the exit, her expression unreadable but her eyes tracking you like a hawk.
You slowed, narrowing your eyes slightly. âYouâre blocking my path, Addams.â
âCorrect,â she replied, her voice flat. âWe need to talk.â
You tilted your head. âAboutâŠ?â
âMy brother.â
You folded your arms, floating just enough so your boots barely touched the ground. âHeâs capable of speaking for himself, last I checked.â
âIâm aware,â Wednesday said, her gaze as sharp as a scalpel. âBut Iâve noticed his behavior has shifted. Heâs spending more time outside his dorm. Less time pretending other people donât exist. More time⊠with you.â
You raised an eyebrow. âAnd this concerns you becauseâŠ?â
âIt doesnât,â she said bluntly. âBut if you intend to play with him like the rest of the shallow, emotionally reckless population here, I will make you regret it in ways you canât begin to fathom.â
A faint smile tugged at your mouth. âThat almost sounded like you care.â
âI do. Which is why Iâm standing here instead of letting you drift away on whatever whim guides your supernatural day-to-day.â
You let the smile linger. âFor the record, Iâm not playing him. Heâs⊠different. And I like that.â
Wednesday studied you for a long moment, as if trying to detect the smallest twitch of dishonesty. âGood. I would hate to have to dismantle your life piece by piece.â
You tilted your head, voice dry. âAnd here I thought ghosts couldnât be intimidated.â
Her expression didnât change, but you could swear you saw the faintest flicker of approval in her eyes before she stepped aside. âEnjoy your afternoon. And rememberâŠ.Iâll be watching.â
You floated past her, glancing back just once with a half-grin. âNoted.â
[Later â Greenhouse Corner Table]
Youâd been sitting with Slurp on your lap, letting him coil comfortably while you idly flipped through your sketchbook, when Pugsley arrived. He looked like heâd jogged the last few steps, hair slightly mussed, cheeks faintly flushed from the cool air outside.
âHey,â he greeted, dropping into the seat across from you. âSorry had to get away from⊠well, people.â
âUnderstandable,â you said, setting your pencil down. âSlurp and I were just killing time.â
Pugsley glanced at the little creature, who gave a lazy flick of his tongue, then looked back up at you. His gaze lingered for a beat longer than usual before he blurted:
âSo⊠what did Wednesday say to you?â
You blinked, surprised. âYou knew she cornered me?â
His mouth twitched in a half-smile. âShe doesnât do subtle. And sheâs been⊠watching me lately. Watching us.â
You hesitated. âShe wanted to know my intentions.â
His expression shifted part curiosity, part something softer, almost nervous. âAnd⊠what did you tell her?â
âThat Iâm not playing you,â you said simply, leaning forward so he could see you meant it. âThat I like you. And that I think youâre differentâŠ.in a good way.â
For a moment, his usual guarded look faltered. âDifferent how?â
âDifferent like⊠you donât care about impressing people who donât matter,â you said. âYouâve got this⊠quiet way about you, but you still notice things. You see people. And thatâs rare here.â
He didnât answer right away, instead looking down at Slurp, running a finger along the serpentâs back. âMost people only talk to me because they want something. Or because they think being friends with Wednesdayâs brother will make them⊠I donât know, cooler. You donât.â
âI donât,â you agreed softly. âI just⊠like being around you.â
Pugsley looked back up at you then, his expression open in a way you hadnât seen before. âI like being around you too. A lot.â
The two of you sat in that warm, quiet space for a moment Slurp shifting slightly in your lap, the faint smell of greenhouse soil hanging in the air, before Pugsley gave a small, almost shy smile.
âGuess weâre both different,â he said.
âGuess we are,â you replied, and you both went back to your quiet routine, though something unspoken had settled comfortably between you.
EndâŠ..
đȘ Ringmasterâs Warning: No Copycats in This Tent đȘ