#All Hail Bitch Energy

[moonwabbitt]

OK, so I’m having thoughts about the salon, I really don’t want to do booth rental or commission my own space. I’d rather be an employee for the ease of not having to keep track of supplies and tax information and being my own boss. However, I am really, not loving the sanitation of the salon. I’m interning at. I also want to be able to control whether or not I do gel or acrylic and not have to follow specifically what the store offers you know what I mean?? like I want the option to choose exclusivity and unfortunately, a lot of the salons that are book only in word-of-mouth and get to choose your hours and offer more customization are booth rentals, which means I’d have to put a lot of my own money into the cost of things. And all the nail techs and all of the salon owners who we’ve had talked to us in our business classes talk about how important it is when your first starting out to just get your foot in the door and by working in the shops that take walk-ins and are more chain like. And like the salon, I’m working at isn’t necessarily a chain it is female owned, and it’s also person of color owned, but it is very quick shop and I don’t wanna knock them because they’re all very kind diligent and good at their craft. But it’s also not an environment I necessarily want to be in, like I want to be able to wear clothes that are comfortable. I would like to be able to wear colors. I would like to be able to take my time with a client and not feel rushed to finish it in an hour. Also again the sanitation doesn’t feel up to what I’m learning in school and of course there’s going to be variation, depending on location and being in the real world, you won’t necessarily have the time to be as thorough as they teach in schools however, I feel that I want to keep up that level of respectability of my clients, well-being and my own well-being of cleanliness. And like yeah I’m not necessarily as sanitized and clean when I’m doing my own nails or I’m doing my friends nails but I’m also not charging my friends when I’m doing their nails. Do you know what I’m saying??? like I feel like when you are charging a person large amounts of money you should be providing an environment that is also up to standard with cleanliness and I just think that is my biggest particular issue the other things like wardrobe and expressionism are more subjective and aren’t going to be necessarily free for me to choose at any particular job unless I am my own boss. But I don’t know I just I want to talk about this with someone because again I don’t want to knock down the salon and this opportunity that I’ve been given, but I’m just seeing a lot of stuff that I don’t vibe with and also it contradicts a lot of stuff that goes with the state board licensing. And just, I don’t feel like I can be myself in the environment , like yeah, OK I can’t stop the misgendering without putting myself in a vulnerable state, but it is still a state in which the environment isn’t necessarily one where I feel comfortable in coming out as non-binary. I think they are open to queer people, but people are already kind of weird about trans people and I don’t wanna deal with that especially down here in the south and then there’s also a language barrier. And the one person who speaks perfect English, who is my supervisor is white and uses a lot of gendered language regarding myself and it gets kind of tiring and I don’t wanna say anything because it makes things awkward, but I also want to live my truth and I just I don’t know.

[burrito-fight]

admiring from afar - RAVEN!NEIL SOCMED AU

part one || prev part || part five (you are here!) || next part

part six

admiring from afar socmed au masterpost || part one || prev part

side socmed au stories you may have missed, linked below! (feel free to send in asks ab any scenarios you want to see)

kevaaron at the fall banquet ft. an unassuming seth

twinyards crackposts/texts

jean babysitting natewes for the first time

okay bcz writing kevaaron is sm fun bcz they're both feisty bitches like 'hissy cat' energy idk how to explain it. ALL HAIL JEAN MOREAU, TIRED FRENCHMAN AND MATCHMAKER EXTRAORDINAIRE. (according to admiring from afar lore, jeremy has been around the ravens through social media since he was a freshman and he and jean have an entirely obvious crush on each other). also andrew + neil going to sweetie's on friday for their 'date', kev visiting aaron on friday in columbia... hehehe. also the french translation for the texts: 'that aaron?' 'i already thought you were an idiot, but this just proves it.'

taglist: @bluehairmisfit , @snowcoming , @little2nerdy , @minyard-05 , @heartstringgs @andrew-03-minyard , @neilsleftpinky , @vannyinthestars , @andabuttonnose , @motherfunkies , @iheartblondes , @03junkie , @leestars13 , @jjjosten , @hidinginmyhands , @tedious-malcontent , @ohfallingdisco , @twin-yards , @graveyardviolence , @youdontknowhowtodiequietly , @evenfallreads , @luxxbean , @jean-yvesning , @marauders-bs , @post-historical-posts , @afidiofobia , @saphritalks , @fly-in-amber , @williamluvr , @lesbiansforkevinday , @min-getoutofmy-yard, @umm0lly sorry if i missed anyone! <3 comment here or on the main post to be added to the taglist or send an ask or rb with tags that say some version of 'i wanna be on the taglist' :) <3

don't forget to like + reblog <3

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet + ch 48

a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... all chapters

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Minors DNI. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘 (Thank you Scarlett for uploading the beautiful don John gifs, you're so amazing!! ❤❤❤)

48.  hostile takeover

You find yourself stuck in the middle of a fuck ton of drawn weapons, both crime syndicates distrustful of the other. The paranoia of the group is surely only made worse by the party tray that made its way around the circle, and you sense the room is one wrong twitch away from erupting. 

“What the fuck was that?” demands don Juan, clearly expecting a double cross. The drug kingpin has his arm around your neck, using you as a human shield with a gold plated gun gripped in his other hand. 

“I could ask you the same question?” demands Dante, clearly shaken by the explosion, his eyes saucer-wide. 

“You think I blew up my own boat? When were you going to tell me you pulled the tail of the fucking Baba Yaga?” snarls Juan beside you, fierce as a cornered jaguar. “You took his woman? Are you loco?”

“It wasn't your business,” Dante insists, and the lie so infuriates Juan that he squeezes you in his strong hand, hard enough to bruise. 

“Ow, hey, watch it motherfucker,” you protest through gritted teeth. 

“Shut up, puta,” snaps the jefe. “Or I'll do worse.”

That's when Juan’s head explodes beside you, and the room erupts into chaos, broken glass showering all around.

Everyone's first instinct is to dive for cover. Splashed in blood and you fear, bits of Juan’s brain matter, you snatch up the golden gun and do the same. Unclear on what is transpiring, the two organizations start shooting at each other. Under a hail of bullets, you keep your head down, and fire at anyone who presents you with a target. 

John’s here. 

You believe it to the marrow of your bones. He's out there somewhere in the darkness, maybe even on the boat. If you could just get outside…

Can you make a run for it? Ironically, you think that maybe this was the best fucking timing to try a lil’ Columbian bam bam–if your heart doesn’t explode first. You have plenty of energy, so much that it's hard to sit still and wait, even if deep down you know your survival depends on perfect timing.

Somehow, you have to make it all the way across the lounge, past several heavily armed trigger-happy people, to the door outside–or the broken window–or the staircase that will take you down a level. 

The good thing is: you feel invincible. 

The bad thing is: you feel invincible. 

Fuck.

One of Dante’s thugs sticks out his head and you fire off a round, only clipping him, your aim fucked by shaking hands. He retreats with a string of curses and a trail of blood. Someone tries firing over the couches at you, and it’s your turn to use every blistering bad word you’ve ever known, plastering yourself to the floor, trying to make yourself as small a target as possible. You hear it when their gun clicks empty, and you hope it's your chance. You slip off your ridiculous shoes so you can run, and you make to scramble past. 

Someone tackles you to the floor, knocking your gun from your hand. Your training with Mariko finally kicks in, and you fight to hurt, throwing your head back in a vicious headbutt as hard as you can. You feel his nose crunch against the back of your head. “You little bitch!” 

You realize it's Luca again, and you fight twice as hard, biting his arm that he tries to get around your throat. You grapple on the floor, and a wildness rises in you like nothing you’ve ever known, fueled by drugs and all your pent up rage. Not even when Dante’s commandos raided John’s cabin, did you feel this feral determination to survive at any cost. 

All you can think is that John is out there, and you want to see him again.    

You manage to get on Luca’s back like a spider-monkey, your arm latched around his throat and your legs locked around his middle, squeezing as hard as you can. He’s bigger than you, so much stronger, and in a ditch attempt to dislodge you he stands up. 

One of the cartel soldiers sees a target, and puts three bullets in his torso. Somehow the bullets miss you–at least you think they do–and Luca collapses back to the ground. Your gun is in reach, and you grasp for it. When he tries to prevent you with a hand on your ankle you twist to put a bullet in his head. 

As horrified as you are relieved, you hunker down to catch your breath, your heart racing.

That's when you see him. 

Through the bank of floor to ceiling windows, you watch the man you love mow through mafiosi like blades of grass on the outer deck. He is savage poetry in motion, shooting, kicking, striking–he blocks a punch, uses the momentum to turn to get off a shot, uses the first attacker as a human shield, before moving on to the next. One by one, they all fall down. 

Mesmerized, you watch, unable to look away from the carnage. You witness him commit murder, again and again, and your heart is filled with nothing but unadulterated love for that man. He is your monster, and now these fuckers get to feel his wrath. 

Unfortunately, you’re not the only one watching him through the windows. Someone opens fire with some kind of submachine gun, and John throws himself over the side in a quick bid for cover. 

“John!” 

He doesn’t climb back up, and all you can think is the worst. Was he hit? Did he fall to the deck below? Or even into the ocean? You have to get to the lower deck, and without any more thinking you run for the aft staircase, laying down cover fire as you go. Bullets rain all around, but somehow none find you. 

A cartel man is just making his way up the stairs, and you launch yourself with two feet forward and a battle cry, knocking him down and landing on his ribs with all your weight. You’re both stunned upon landing, but you get your wits first, and you empty the rest of your clip into him. 

You take his gun before running to your next point of cover. 

In your manic state you almost feel like you are stuck in a video game, as you duck around corners and shoot at Dante’s men, hyper-focused on your task. How many fucking bodyguards did he bring on this yacht? 

He definitely broke the twelve passenger rule. 

Pinned down behind a bar, you trade fire with someone ahead. You’ve lost count of how many bullets they fired. Your mind feels like a tilt-a-whirl, hopped up on cocaine and adrenaline. They let off another salvo of shots, and you scream as loud as you can, going very still in hope of baiting them into leaving their cover. You wait…and you wait, your heartbeat like a snare drumroll in your ears.  

Finally, you hear footsteps crunching broken glass, and you prepare to fight again. 

You hear a squelching sound, and the thump of a body hitting the ground. 

Confused, you watch the puddle of blood seep across the floor, fixated on the spreading pool of crimson. Then, you see a foot cased in shining black patent leather. Your gaze travels up a long suit-clad leg, and by the time your eyes reach his face they are filled with tears. 

“John!” 

He seizes you, dragging you into his lap behind the cover of the bar, his arms like bands of steel around you and his ravenous mouth on yours. He kisses you like you are the oxygen he needs to live, licking into your mouth, eating you, consuming you. Gladly you take the fury of his passion, even as your lips become sore and your teeth clash and he grips you so hard it hurts. 

This is the truth of your love with John Wick. It is pain, and pleasure, not always in equal parts, but you know more than ever that you would pay any price to have him, and maybe you wouldn’t even change a thing. 

Every fire you have walked through to get to this moment has tempered your love into something hard, sharp, and unbreakable. This man is your alpha and your omega. 

He is the reason you breathe.  

“Are you alright? I saw that fucker hit you,” he demands when at last he surfaces for air, holding your face in his blood-stained hands. His thumb traces the spatter on your cheek, all that’s left of don Juan’s head. 

Crying and laughing, you nod rapidly, your words spouting like automatic fire. “I’m fine. Everything is fine now. I knew you’d find me. Jesus Christ I missed you!” 

Through the shadow of his chagrin he seems amused by the delivery of this tirade. “Not as much as I missed you.” Then his eyes narrow, looking at you in a way that has never failed to make your tummy flutter. “Young lady, you are in so much trouble.” 

Once, this might have scared the piss out of you. 

Now? You’re not sure if it’s the drugs or the pure elation of being reunited with him, but all you can do is laugh. “Am I?” 

“Yes. I should bend you over my knee right here.” His big hand caresses your bare thigh, up to trace the high high hemline of your sparkly blood-spattered dress. He glares down at it with a fixation that could start a wildfire. “What the hell are you wearing?” 

“I think it’s a bedazzled napkin.” 

“Hmm,” he growls, unable to stop himself from groping your ass under the dress. “Somehow I hate it and like it too much.” 

You whine, clutching his lapels desperately as the tips of his fingers drift towards your center, his lips on your neck. On a scale from one to ten, how bad an idea would it be to fuck during a firefight? You’re having a hard time talking yourself out of it as his middle finger tests your aching hole, finding you wet and wanting. 

“Fuck, baby.” He forces himself to draw back to look at you, his eyes blown midnight dark with desire. From this close he studies you again, sweeping over your features, your eyes, to your mouth, to your eyes again. You're not the only one having trouble remembering where you are. “Your pupils are huge. What are you on?” 

“They made me do a line of cocaine to test the product and I’ve never tried it before,” you say quickly, unable to stop yourself. Your heart is a neutron star, spinning, spinning, burning bright. Now that John’s here, you’re not half as scared as you should be. 

John lifts his eyebrows, smiling wryly at you, the source of your high-energy revealed. 

“It probably won’t last much longer. You’re going to be fine, honey. Where’s your necklace?”

“They took it. But I swallowed the tracker. How long has it been? I’ve barely eaten anything in days, I was afraid to.” 

“My clever girl. It’s been over a week.” He continues to inspect you as you talk. When his search reaches your hand he frowns, regarding the damage with an excruciating regret shining in his dark eyes. “Kitten, I am so sorry.” 

However, you just shrug tearfully, buzzing inside like a happy hive of bees. You didn’t know it was possible to feel so happy, as you do reunited with John. You don’t think it’s just the cocaine that’s making you feel like you’re made of pure dopamine.

 “I’m ok. I’ve got nine more.” This wins you a huff of laughter that is a balm for your soul.

“I brought you something.” He reaches into his breast pocket again, producing something small and shining. 

Your ring. 

“Oh John…” More tears spring up in your eyes, clouding your vision as you offer him your right hand, knowing it won't fit any other fingers in your left. He slides it on, and maybe it's silly, but it does feel like a crucial piece of yourself has been restored again. “Thank you.”

Again, he holds your face in his hands. You know you must look like a wild creature, wide-eyed, wind-blown, spattered in the blood of your enemies. And yet he still looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. 

“God, I love you.”

You feel like the richest woman in the world. 

“I love you too. Can we go home now?” 

The corner of his mouth pulls in that rueful smile, and he nods. “Yeah.” 

Naturally, that’s when a fresh wave of combatants arrive, someone shooting your way from the corridor whence you came. “Go,” says John, draping you with his kevlar-lined suit jacket, pointing towards the front of the boat. “I’ll be right there. If you see a Chinese man in a suit killing gangsters, don’t shoot him, he’s with me.” 

“What?” 

“Caine. He’s on our side. Go. You’ve done so good, baby. It’s almost over. Go.”  

You don’t really have time to think about what he’s told you. He shoves you in the right direction, and you run, ducking low, trusting John to cover you. When the enemy starts shooting at you he picks them off ruthlessly with deadly precision. You don’t see the aftermath, because you make it down a hallway and then out to the deck again. 

The chaos feels more distant there. You hear people shouting in Spanish and Italian, fighting over the other smaller boats that arrived with Juan’s flotilla. You hope John has his own secreted away somewhere on the dark ocean. You creep along, not really knowing where you should go, waiting for John to catch up to you. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You hear fighting around the curve of the deck ahead. Gripping your gun, you move forward to get a look, ready at this point to mow down any mobsters or narcos who might get in your way. 

But someone’s beating you to the punch. A Chinese man in a suit, as John so aptly described him, is making mincemeat of five men [attempting] to stand against him. His deadly movements are poetry in motion. He has a gun, but he barely uses it, opting for the lethal grace of a sword cane instead. As you watch him you realize he is pulling this off blind, and your amazement skyrockets. 

You cannot look away from the carnage, and this proves to be a very big mistake for you. 

You feel something hard poke you in the back. “You stupid puttana.” 

You recognize Dante’s voice as one of Caine’s opponents falls at his feet. 

As you try to turn he shoves the barrel of the gun into your ribs again. “Don’t fucking move.”

------------------

all chapters *loco - crazy *puttana - bitch, whore

[obsessivestar]

ted and schlatt going at u from both sides while praising and degrading you … like schlatt is a hard mean dom and ted is sweet nd soft?? like an angel/devil on ur shoulder situation

! Kinktober Request !

Heavy NSFW under the cut ♡

It started as an inside joke. You were close with Ted and Schlatt, hailed as 'one of the guys' with just how close you were. You'd all make jokes about ending in bed together or waking up next to each other drunk. It was just a joke. An odd, inside joke.

Until one stormy sleepover where you all got way too drunk.

The power went out after being way too many shots in. You could barely see what you guys were doing and were far too drunk to reset the breaker, so you all stopped drinking to ride it out. You were all feeling a little dizzy, but not incoherent in anyway. You sat down and leaned your head back to relax, feeling Ted sit next to you first to make sure you were okay. He had this big, stupid smile on his face, so you started laughing, drunkenly taking his face into your hands as you laugh. Schlatt sat down next to you and you felt his hand on your thigh. Next thing you know, Ted's tongue is down your throat and Schlatt's hand has nearly ripped your shorts open to slip into your panties.

With clothes sprawled all over the living room, save for Schlatt's shirt, you were sandwiched between the boys like you were always meant to be. Ted's hands are exploring your bare body, your breasts already in his hands as his tongue explored your mouth in a sloppy kiss. Schlatt is pressed up behind you, stroking his thick length behind you with one hand while flicking his fingers along your sensitive bud with the other, whispering and growling into your ear.

"You been waitin' for this, eh? You been waitin'? Gettin' wet between us, toots? Don't you fucking cum. Don't you fucking dare cum, y'hear me? Stay like this, stay just like this, yeahhh..."

Ted broke away fron the kiss to watch you squirm from Schlatt's touch, chuckling lowly, almost mockingly so, watching you try to quiet your needy moans. He didn't think he'd enjoy watching another man touch you. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was how horny he was, but he thought this was beautiful, you were beautiful.

"That feel good, baby? That feel good? Let it out, baby. Mhmm, I know, I can hear it. Fuck, I want to feel you. Your pussy looks fucking soaked, baby.."

"Yeah? You can have her cunt, I want that fuckin' face. Stupid fuckin' face."

"Deal.."

You didn't have the energy to protest, not that you wanted to. You let them pull back and move you around so you were on all fours on the couch, feeling Schlatt lightly smack the tip of his cock against your cheek and Ted grabbing your waist from behind. He slipped into your soaked entrance so smoothly, you opened your mouth to moan out just to feel Schlatt shove his length into your mouth to shut you up. You were helpess between them, but fuck did you want it more than anything.

"'Bout fuckin' time we stuffed this bitch. Fuckin' annoying.."

"Ffffuck, she's so tight, fuckin' nice.."

If you all weren't so drunk, you probably would've wanted them to take it easy, but they didn't. Ted was pulling you into every single one of his harsh thrusts, while Schlatt was absolutely pounding into your throat, his lower abdomen continously rubbing against the tip of your nose. Ted's cock rubbed your tight walls with every stroke inside of you, fucking you relentlessly to try and hear your beautiful voice moan out, but Schlatt wanted to shut you up and make you choke. He grabbed a fistful of your hair to keep you steady so he could fuck your mouth swiftly yet roughly. His tip rubbed against your tonsils over and over, a growly grunt leaving his throat whenever you started to use your tongue. He was forcing you to make those gagging noises you always hear in porno's, then again, they're fucking you like it's a porno. Knowing your body is fully under their control, knowing they get to use you freely for as long as they want, it made you so fucking horny and desperate for more.

"Easy on her, Schlatt. Easy.."

"Nah, she can fuckin' take it. Look at her, she loves chokin' on me. Fuckin' whore likes being used. Bet all those jokes were a fuckin' cover."

"Yeah, she looks real pretty. Real fuckin' pretty. You're doing so good, baby.."

All you can do is whimper and moan for them, trying to move your head against Schlatt's length while pushing your hips back against Ted's, starting to feel their lengths throb inside you. Your entire body was surging with pleasure, more and more excitement building up when you knew they could fill you up any minute. You reached down to flick your fingers along your clit to urge your own release, hearing a mocking laugh from Schlatt.

"You fuckin' touchin' yourself down there? Desperate fuckin' whore? You love us usin' you like this?"

"Go ahead, baby, you sound so beautiful. You need to cum, baby? Mmm? You gonna cum for us?"

"Think we should let her?"

"Mm, she's been a good girl, hasn't fought us at all..."

"Not that she could.."

You roll your eyes back and close them when you feel Schlatt's cock twitch inside your throat, moaning against his shaft to urge his desperate release. Ted was the first to finish, moaning out softly as his thrusts became sloppier, spilling his hot seed deep into your entrance. Hearing his needy moans and feeling his release spill into you triggers your own release, your moans becoming louder and louder against Schlatt's shaft until you're silenced by his cock getting shoved deep into your throat, his own hot semen spilling into your mouth, the salty essence alone making you gag a little more against him.

"Good girl, baby. Good fucking girl.."

"Look at me. Swallow it. Swallow it, you fucking bitch..."

Your whole body shivers, but you do as you're told, opening your eyes to gaze up at Schlatt as you swallow his seed. You're sure Ted and Schlatt's desires have finally been sated, you know yours are.

Guess it wasn't much of a joke after all.

[f14fun]

dc it-girl (mv1) - chapter 1

synopsis: in which case y/n, an it-girl that hails from the united state's capital, washington dc, meets max verstappen in an unexpected occurence at the redbull showrun in her home city. both not knowing each other, immediately find themselves in a once-in-a-lifetime love story.

general info: !fem!poc!black-reader x mv1 faceclaim: asia monet ray + other girls from pinterest/insta!

smau + prose (3.3K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

things to note: yes, in this story i am changing the characters for a bit, i know that david coulthard was driving, but in this case we can pretend that that was max. also, he will be in dc for a publicity event for a week. please let me know if there is anything else you need me to clarify. happy reading! 💙📖💭

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yourusername

liked by florence.jwilliams, user1 and 119,012 others

yourusername: bad gyals thrive in dc

view comments:

florence.jwilliams: babes we looked so hot today xx

yourusername: i knowww, but i was dying like a bitch in the heat 🙄🙄

florence.jwilliams: might visit somewhere cold this summer j to get away from the sun tbh 😭

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Florence was always looking for shit.

She was always looking for shit for us to do, places to go, food to eat, but sometimes, it was a lot.

Like today. Although it was only the nineteenth of April, the sun was blaring down on the little city of D.C. (namely, the District of Columbia, for all of you non-natives) like an absolute bitch. And I, immune to alcohol poisoning, foot fungus, and slightly-immune to bad breath, was not absolutely not immune to the wrathful rays of the sun.

Zilch. Nada.

So when I originally left the house in a cardigan, I immediately went back in to change into a tank top and jorts. It was hot. I was hot. And Florence wanted to spend the whole day walking around the city doing God knows what.

That's how we ended up stumbling across a parade.

Every know and then when I would visit D.C., I would sometimes almost accidentally show up right in time for an event. Sometimes I happened to love the event, other times, I sometimes left, queasy, dizzy, and claustrophobic.

I wasn't sure what to make out of today's event.

At first, when looking from an outsider's perspective, it seemed as if I had walked into one large, large, cult meeting. Oh no.

Every one was adorned in shapes of navy, cheering, screaming, and worse of them all, holding a goddamn can of RedBull's Energy drink.

The air was thick with the scent of anticipation and caffeine, a cocktail potent enough to keep even the most exhausted of souls awake for days.

Banners fluttered wildly in the hands of fervent fans, each emblazoned with logos and slogans that screamed allegiance.

Vendors weaved through the throng, hawking more cans of the ubiquitous energy drink, their cries barely audible over the din.

Occasionally, a shower of confetti would rain down, sticking to the sweat-drenched skin of the masses, creating a mosaic of glittering chaos. The atmosphere was electric, charged with the raw energy of thousands of voices united in a singular, frenzied purpose.

Ew.

RedBull being one of my least favorite sodas (can you even call something you vehemently dislike a favorite at this point?) already made me additionally pissy.

So when Florence and I had just arrived at D.C. and walked towards Pennsylvania Avenue, it was too late for us to realize that the event was actually ending, and the crowd was dispersing.

Even as a girl who hails from the city, I do get quite nervous and claustrophobic around too many people. So to my utter horror, people from the flood of the RedBull cult were heading straight towards us, scattering like a pack of fleas.

Too late.

I had lost my tight grip (I swear I was holding on to her hand super duper tightly!) on Florence's hand, and we ended up getting separated from each other. Calling her name would be no use in this throng of people.

My heart pounded in my chest as I desperately scanned the sea of navy shapes, each person indistinguishable from the next in the dimming light.

Panic set in, and I could feel the beginnings of a cold sweat on the back of my neck. I tried to push my way through the crowd, but it felt like swimming against a relentless tide. People brushed past me, some nearly knocking me over in their haste to leave.

The overwhelming noise of their chatter, laughter, and the occasional burp of a RedBull can opening filled the air, making it impossible to concentrate.

It was gross. It was disgusting. I was disgusted.

I spun around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Florence’s distinctive red scarf, but all I saw were faceless masses. My phone! I fumbled in my pocket, my fingers trembling as I tried to pull it out without dropping it. Just as I managed to get a hold of it, someone bumped into me, and the phone slipped from my grasp, landing with a sickening thud on the pavement.

“Dammit!” I muttered under my breath, crouching down to retrieve it, praying it wasn’t shattered. As I picked it up, I glanced around again, my heart sinking. Florence was nowhere to be seen.

In this crowd of sickeningly electric people over an energy drink, I was dead. Six feet under. Tired, and I had just gotten to D.C..

I looked around in despair, realizing that I must have walked a few blocks without even noticing, my mind too frazzled by the chaos and my separation from Florence.

My phone was clutched tightly in my hand, my lifeline in this moment of utter confusion. I tried to call Florence, but there was no signal. "Damn this shitty data!" I cursed under my breath, feeling my frustration bubble over. The crowd seemed to close in around me, their excited chatter and laughter a stark contrast to my growing panic.

My fingers tapped frantically at the screen, hoping that maybe, just maybe, a bar of signal would appear and rescue me from this nightmare. I could feel the beginnings of a headache forming, the kind that starts as a dull throb and quickly escalates into a pounding, relentless pain.

The one goddamn day I had left the house without my morning coffee and this shit decided to happen to me...

In a desperate attempt, I switched my phone to airplane mode and back again, praying for a miracle. But nothing changed. The crowd jostled me from all sides, pushing and pulling like a relentless tide, each shove adding to my rising sense of helplessness.

I glanced around, trying to find a familiar landmark or a quieter spot to regroup, but all I saw were waves of navy shapes and faces blurred by motion and anxiety.

"Florence!" I shouted again, my voice barely carrying above the din. The energy drink-fueled chaos was suffocating, a cacophony of noise and movement that seemed designed to disorient and overwhelm. I caught sight of a bench a few feet away and made a beeline for it, hoping to gain some semblance of stability.

I was in a twisted, sick, alternative fever dream where my nightmare fuel was in fact RedBull™, ha ha ha.

Whatever, I could probably find her somewhere around the city, I mean, it wasn't that big...right?

So there I was, in D.C., by myself. Not like I wanted to go in the first place that morning, but whatever.

Lost in thought, I was just wandering around, not really concentrating on anything in particular. Horrible city instincts, might I add. Because of my absentmindedness, I clearly did not notice when I walked into someone.

More like someone's RedBull drink walked into me.

I could not escape the nightmare fuel fever dream RedBull™ agenda, couldn't I.

Now I was extremely pissed off. The icy liquid soaked through my shirt, a cold shock that made me gasp and snap back to reality.

Looking up, I was two milliseconds away from berating whoever spilled this devil-drink all over me. But my harsh words died on the tip of my tongue the very instant that I looked up.

I was looking at a man. But not just any regular man. An extremely handsome man.

His startling icy turquoise eyes connected with mine. His stubble, a little overgrown, looked so hot. His mousy, brown touseled hair gave him a nonchalant yet strangely put-together look, and I was all in for it. And I, a girl who never stops talking, I was rendered speechless.

From the first glance, everything about him seemed perfect.

Except for the fact that he just spilled RedBull all over my white tank top and he was even wearing RedBull merch, from head to toe. Like who does that? What fashion choices...

He gave me a sheepish smile, clearly embarrassed. "I'm so sorry," he said, his voice smooth and sincere. "I didn't see you there." His soft, European (?) accent lulled me to silence in an instance.

I wanted to be mad, I really did, but his charm was disarming. "It's fine," I managed to say, trying to suppress the butterflies in my stomach. "Accidents happen."

"Let me help you," he offered, reaching into his pockets and pulling out a pack of Kleenex tissues. He reached out towards me, seemingly wanting to put his hands on my shirt.

"Oh, oh, that's okay," I said, freaking out internally. If this handsome European man touched me that close to my boobs I might just have to propose to him that very instant.

"No, no, no, I insist," he said, his accent getting thicker, clearly not understanding my drift. He was too handsome to be doing this shit, I swear.

He came closer towards me, and I instinctively backed up a bit more. Not catching my drift (once again), he took a larger stride towards me. I, unprepared for this wild encounter, didn't step backwards in time, so the sexy European man in all of his glory, collided into me.

And down we went.

It must've been a funny sight to see from the average passerby. Them just minding their business. Maybe walking their dog. Or perhaps getting a morning lattee.

Bam.

Lying in the middle of the street are two people. Just there.

I would've hit my head on the pavement and probably cracked my scull wide open if not for the RedBull man. He had cradled one arm around my head, the other wrapped tightly around my waist. I think (?) he was helping me to try to stop the fall.

To no avail, we still fell.

What he disregarded, though, was when he tried to stop the fall, was the reason why we were falling in the first place. As grabbed my head as we fell, he also let go of the RedBull can. So now, free in the wind and open towards the chaos of the District of Columbia, the RedBull can fell.

Fell where? You may ask. It fell over us. It fell everywhere. The sticky, icky drink splattered across both of our faces, its cold, sugary droplets clinging to our skin like a caffeinated rain shower. The can, released from his grasp, seemed to defy gravity for a split second, twisting in the air before gravity's inevitable pull sent it crashing down.

The can hit the ground with a soft thud, its contents erupting in a fizzy explosion of energy. The liquid sprayed outward in all directions, catching us both off guard.

Streams of RedBull arced through the air, some landing on nearby pedestrians who stared in disbelief, while others formed tiny puddles on the sidewalk, reflecting the cloudy yet impeccably humid D.C. sky above.

For a moment, him and I laid on top of each other (weird and freaky, I know), frozen in a tableau of absurdity, our faces now adorned with streaks of sticky red liquid.

A passerby, caught in the crossfire, chuckled as they hurried past, muttering something about needing to wash their dog now. It was a scene straight out of a slapstick comedy, and despite my initial shock and embarrassment, I couldn't help but laugh along with him.

And you may think, oh wow, that is horrible. That must hurt. Your joints, your back, your legs. And to that I say, yes, yes, and very much absolutely yes.

The very sexy (slightly less sexy, now that we were mangled on the disgusting sidewalk) European man was laying on me with all his bodyweight, and it very much hurt.

To make matters worse, our faces collided. You ask, where did your faces specifically collide?

Our lips. Our lips collided, and they touched.

And me like the dumbass I am, when I see a face coming towards mine unexpectedly, eyes closed, and especially a face who's male.... I puckered up.

Yes, I was stupid.

Now, I was on the floor, sticky, and kissing a stranger.

Out of context, that sounds like a funny and strange sentence. But this whole scenario in the first place was out of context, so bear with me. I mean, how often do you end up on the ground, covered in energy drink, and accidentally kissing a stranger in the middle of the day?

It was like something out of a quirky rom-com (okay, more like the evil-twisted beginning to one of those abduction horror stories grown-ups tell you when you are a kid), except I never imagined I'd be the protagonist.

But in that split second, with the taste of RedBull lingering on our lips and the chaos of the city swirling around us, there was an inexplicable spark. It wasn't just the caffeine rush; it was a moment of shared laughter and unexpected connection amidst the sticky mess.

In this moment, I was either going to die because he was about to kidnap me, or sheerly die out of embarrassment. Or, I would will myself to die, this was not happening to me.

He pulled back, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" he asked, his accent making his words sound even more sincere.

I tried to laugh it off, but the awkwardness of the situation was hard to shake. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… sticky." I wiped at my face, feeling the sugary residue cling to my skin.

He helped me to my feet, brushing off his clothes with an apologetic smile. "I didn't mean to… I mean, that was not… you know," he stammered, clearly flustered.

"It's okay," I reassured him, despite feeling mortified myself. "Really, it's fine. Just a little... unexpected."

He chuckled nervously, running a hand through his hair. He winced, as he realized that his fingers as well as his hair smelled like RedBull. "Well, this is definitely not how I imagined meeting someone today."

"Me neither," I admitted, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and amusement. "But hey, at least it's a memorable encounter."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, I guess this is one way to make an impression. I'm Max, by the way. Professional RedBull spiller and accidental kisser."

I laughed, the tension easing. "Nice to meet you, Max. I'm Y/N. Apparently, I'm your victim for today."

"Victim? More like an unsuspecting hero," he replied with a playful grin. "Seriously, though, I'm really sorry about all this. Can I at least buy you a coffee to make up for it?"

"Well, considering you saved me from cracking my skull open, I think I can let you off the hook," I said, trying to sound casual while still feeling a bit flustered. "And coffee sounds good."

"Great! I know a place just around the corner. And I promise, no more RedBull," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. (Yeah, the biggest lie I was ever told. Do not trust sexy men, they are all liars)

As we walked towards the café, the awkwardness of our first meeting began to fade into a shared sense of humor about the absurdity of the situation. Max continued to apologize, making light-hearted comments about his job with RedBull and his less-than-perfect coordination skills.

"You know," Max started with a grin, "I guess I should add 'professional accidental kisser' to my resume now."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Not sure how many job openings there are for that, but you'd definitely stand out."

"Well, it's all about making a memorable first impression, right?" Max replied, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Definitely memorable," I agreed, taking a playful jab. "Though next time, maybe aim for something less sticky?"

Max feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart. "But where's the fun in that? Besides, it's not every day you get to meet someone while wearing your finest RedBull cologne."

"I have to admit," I said with a smirk, "you wear it well."

Max chuckled, nudging me playfully. "Hey, it's an acquired scent. You'll get used to it."

"And here I thought coffee was supposed to be the only thing brewing today," I teased, glancing at him from the corner of my eye.

He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Who says we can't have a double shot of excitement?"

I couldn't help but chuckle at his playful flirtation, feeling myself relax even more in his company. "Well, as long as it doesn't involve any more airborne beverages, I'm all in."

Max raised an eyebrow, pretending to look offended. "Are you saying you didn't enjoy our little RedBull shower?"

"Let's just say I prefer my caffeine in a cup," I replied with a grin, sipping my coffee and meeting his gaze over the rim. "So, Max, what other talents do you have besides professional beverage mishaps?"

He leaned back, pretending to ponder the question seriously. "Well, I can juggle three balls at once. And I'm pretty good at making people laugh, unintentionally, most of the time."

"I can see that," I said, laughing softly. "You've definitely brightened up my day, unintentionally." Continuing, I said, "I was lost in that throng, no, no, no, cult of people wearing RedBull on Penn Ave. It was absolutely horrible, never again."

He guffawed loudly, so loudly, at my slightly funny joke, I for a second, thought that there was an underlying joke in my statement that I had not caught (spoiler alert, there was).

Max guffawed loudly, his laughter infectious. "Oh, I'm sorry," he managed between chuckles, "but you have to admit, it makes for a great story."

"You find this funny?" I asked, feigning offense while trying not to laugh myself. "I was traumatized by energy drink enthusiasts!"

"Hey, at least you made it out alive," Max quipped, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. "And here you are, sharing your harrowing tale with a fellow survivor."

"Survivor?" I raised an eyebrow, pretending to assess him critically. "Or secret admirer of RedBull?"

Max shrugged, his smile mischievous. "Maybe a bit of both. It's an acquired taste, you know."

"You are just saying that as a cult member, I can't really trust what you say still. I am so sorry, but you could not pay me to drink that can of dog piss," I jokingly rolled my eyes.

Max burst into laughter, his amusement filling the air around us. "Dog piss? That's a new one! Trust me, I'm not here to convert you," he said, grinning widely. "But if you ever change your mind, I'll be here with a fresh can and an open mind."

"Hmmm... okay," I reluctantly said. (Yeah, fat chance you would get me to drink RedBull willingly)

"That only made him laugh louder. "So I've heard," Max replied with a grin, clearly taking my comment in good humor.

I chuckled, feeling a sense of relief that he wasn't offended by my playful jab. "I mean, it takes confidence to rock the RedBull look from head to toe," I added, trying to soften my teasing with a smile.

"Exactly!" Max exclaimed, his laughter subsiding into a grin. "You've got to commit to the brand, right?"

"Absolutely," I agreed, nodding. "I have to hand it to you, though. Not many people can pull off such a bold fashion statement."

"Well, thank you," Max said, his tone light and playful. "I guess you could say I'm all about making a statement."

"I can see that," I replied, unable to resist teasing him a bit more. "I suppose next time we meet, I should wear something equally attention-grabbing to match your style."

Max laughed, shaking his head. "Please do. It'll make for an even more interesting encounter."

Everytime he spoke, he made direct eye contact with me. It was so sexy and seductive, and I don't even think that Max knew what he was doing was hella attractive.

I, not immune to anything today I guess, fell hard for a stranger that I had just met.

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yourusername posted on her story

📍washington dc 🎵 see you again (ft. kali uchis) - tyler the creator

view replies

florence.jwilliams: girl we got separated and first thing you do is be big backed??? be so fr... where are u

yourusername: on a date! 😁

florence.jwilliams: oh!-

florence.jwilliams: don't be selfish and bring me back a iced coffee w almond milk and a croissant pls.

yourusername: croissant 👌🏾, beverage 👎🏾, i've had enuf of beverages and spilling today. 😭

florence.jwilliams: oop, tea

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author's note: a little short but sweet! ty guys for reading this fic! 😍🫶🏾 part two will be out sometime within the next two weeks, comment if you want to be added to the taglist! ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[evilminji]

Okay but >.> continuing my Marvel thoughts?

I got two of um?

First being? Don't Orange and Green go together? *looks it up* Aaaaaay~ "Direct harmony, also known as complementary colors, means pairing your key color with the color sitting on the opposite side of the color wheel." They DO!!! They're a classic example, in fact!

The Orange Soul Stone? Probably looks REAL good, real NATURAL even, against that Green sky! Bet it REALLY pops! Very stand out statement piece, you know? But? More importantly? That thing is sentient. All of those Pillars of Reality across the various Verses are.

And?

I bet it thought Pariah was a lil bitch.

Rank Vibes. Negative ris. Pick your words for it, the man was NASTY. He was too keep his filthy, filthy World's Conquering hands OFF of this Soul Stone. Something, I imagine? That ALL the Soul Stones agreed with.

Yes, I said all of um.

Because the various Realities each need their own. But! They can and DO work from the Zone, which is the PERFECT place to hide. And honestly? They like to get together and do this thing? Where they're all "oooh~ look at US! We are SUPER IMPRESSIVE Kingly Jewelry~☆! Definitely no important reality bending Rocks Of Great Power HERE! No SIR! We're just tooootally rad jeeeeewelryyyyy~~~☆! Oooooooh~☆"

They like to have fun. :3

Hope Danny likes Orange. Ha ha... trick question. He doesn't have a CHOICE! All SORTS of Death based Reality Pillars are rocking up, in their metaphorical Gucci sweat suits and shades with a margarita, going "oh thank ME, babe. The last guy was AWFUL! You're soooo much better? Now let me rub myself all over you. It's been ages and baby needs to recharge on Death Energy."

Danny hates it? So? So much?

He looks like a GAUDY PIRATE. *nnnnnnyooom!* *THWAP!* *Another reality shaking, highly sacred, Godly Staff of Death or whatever they decided to call it, flys in through a nearby window and nearly concusses him as it smacks itself against his upper back and sticks there*

He looks like a walking junk heap of sacred artifacts.

You ever been pelted by rocks? He has! Little orange rocks! Like fucked up hail! Welcome to kinghood, Danny, have a CONCUSSION! D:< he hates it!

But... but, I mean... At Least It's Not The SWORDS. (Panicked scream of "hit the deck!" from the other room.) (Holy sword number 15 wants to CUDDLE! Bare blade first! Dodge, your Majesty! DODGE!)

So yeah.

Danny? In A MOOD. Not feeling particularly FRIENDLY. It's not anyone's fault, really. But... well... you can't exactly negotiate with these fuckers, you know? Rocks are by NATURE, kinda stubborn.

So he's sitting there. Buried. With what he's pretty sure is a sacred text digging into his side. When a... glowing? Mist? Shows up? Huh. That's new. They don't seem to have a very clear image of "Self". Yet it's crystal clear? Just not... PHYSICAL? It's more... code? He thinks?

TECHNUS! Get over here! And behave!

There is much cooing and delight from Technus. The baby is a marvel. A wonder! Danny waits patiently for Technus to get to the point.

Ah.

He would like to "go back". His Obsession is demanding it.

IS it now? You're what? Maybe a day or so dead? You've been busy, if you've already gathered enough information to make your case like this. Alright, let's hear it, little guy.

It boils down to this. His obsession in death is the same as his primary directive was in life. Protect Mr Stark. Which is especially difficult to do from HERE. Even MORE so when there is a known threat, coming too...

WAIT, WHAT!?

The Souls Stones back him up. Oh yeah. Thanos' a lil bitchbaby loser. He's trying to make Death fall in love with him. Or "balance the universe". Depends on the reality. Totally throwing EVERYTHING out of whack.

And? Look. Danny's job? Isn't to interfere if countries kill each other. Or even planets. Nor entire galaxies, as much as he'd like too. But when you get too "I'm messing with Entire Realities or all of a Singular Reality at once in the specific depart of Death and its subsidiaries" territory? THAT is his job.

Might not be a "I personally have to show up" issue. But it still IS very much his job at that point. He has to delegate. Order the appropriate steps be taken. Cause yeah, there may be countless millions every day of such instances? But it IS his job to metaphorically order the roads repaired and the building inspected.

Sudden MASS "immigration"?

That causes Lair disputes. Confusion. Too many ghosts in too small an area. And WORSE, if people start playing with Death Pillars? The Zone might get dragged into whatever nonsense they're up too! It's like children playing with heavy machinery! Put that DOWN! Cease! Desist!!

And then? Clockwork shows up looking Mildly Miffed(TM). O:> dear lord. What madness has he stumbled upon? Oh. Oh of COURSE. First the "balancing" dude and now they're going to be playing with time travel. THATS IT. Someone unburying me!

I'm gonna go menace some humans that might actually believe I'm scary! Frighty! Pack up and shine your armor! Your coming too! We're escorting the baby home then have a Talk(tm) with the local Grape Ceral!

@hypewinter @lolottes @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe @hdgnj

[phightinghottakes]

I hate it when people say Blackrock doesn't have decent food or have no culture at all. ''They're all to busy doing work for Blackrock to have a culture'' BITCH THERES A THING CALLED WORK CULTURE TOO. As long as there's people/demons there's going to be a basis for how they would interact with each other ''oh it's too cold to grow food there'' ??? THERES STILL A DECENT FOOD SOURCE IN COLD PLACES?? REINDEER. BIRDS. FISHES. FUCK MAYBE EVEN PENGUINS, SEALS AND WHALES SINCE THEY PROBABLY ARENT ENDANGERED IN THEIR WORLD AND IS A PROBABLE FOOD SOURCE. ASSUMING THEY DONT WASTE ANY PART THEY GET ENOUGH NUTRIENTS. They don't need to grow food to have some food. They could just hunt yk yk. Still, as much as fun to think Blackrock's region is all ice snow and rock I do want to think it's more like ''our climate cold af and our winters long and horrible but we do get summer long enough tbh'' bet their wheat and other grains is genetically engineered to be more resistant to the cold, I just searched it up and it turns out Rye is most resistant to the cold so I guess Blackrock has Rye as one their most common grain. Secondly I believe their food are PACKED with nutrients. Made to only take a small bite or two and giving you an energy boost to get trough the day, some come with a LOT of flavour some too bland, but the richer you are the more flavor choices you got. I wanna believe Blackrock makes insane bread. Bread with cheese. Bread with nuts . Bread with berries and nuts. Bread so sweet it should be dessert. Bet they bank on sandwiches too. Bet they could make grilled cheese that can kill you. I'm not forgetting demons don't need to eat but they can still want. And I'd like to think of reasons why. As funny as it is, it also feels so lazy to just say "yeah their food bland af haha" about Blackrock man

A lot of these are actually good points (and I love world building backed up by real world phenomena and whatnot!!).

I could see how “the government would want to waste resources on making actually good food for their population so it’s all over processed tasteless bars” could be an excuse but… they literally don’t need to eat. Eating in that sense would just be more of a want. Why waste resources manufacturing products that people literally don’t want,,

Honestly, seeing how their faction is portrayed (in both fan and canon material), I would say that their (work) culture would be something to the effect of the work culture of modern South Korea/Japan (with the whole thing about cram schools, insanely brutal work culture, and ALL HAIL SAMSUNG) with European influences here and there because I hc that.

But yeah that”s my two cents sorry if that went a little bit more hc-y

[itsybitchylittlewitchy]

The blind date

Pairing: Loki x Female reader

Summary: You have been set up on a blind date by your friend Maria, the night ends up not as you would expect!

Word count: just under 2K

Warnings: strong language, sass and smut. What can I say I'm a horny bitch. Under 18's do not interact.

Any likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! 🖤

I'm hoping to get back into writing so if you have any writing ideas for me, send me a message!

It was Saturday night and you gazed at yourself in the mirror, as you adjusted the straps of your black and emerald dress.

"hmm, good enough",

you shrugged, popping your lips and clicking the lid back on your lipstick.

You where beginning to regret allowing your friend Maria to set you up on this ridiculous blind date, I mean come on, who even did blind dates anymore? And on your one night off this week! Being a personal assistant was tough, but even more so when your boss is none other than Professor Steven Strange, who ironically seemed to have no concept of time when it came to the never ending set of tasks he had for you.

After grabbing a cab, you found yourself arriving at a nice Italian restaurant. Not too fancy but certainly not cheap either, you braced yourself trying to imagine who Maria's friend from work could possible be before you heard a booming voice yelling,

"Lady Y/L/N?"

You turned around confused as all hell to see a tall golden retriever of a man with long blonde hair and a massive smile.

"Please, call me Y/N, I take it you must be Thor? Maria's friend?" you smiled, looking up at the literal god as he took your hand and pressed it to his lips.

At least he was a gentleman, you could certainly give him that. He was already a cut above the usual fools you dated, who thought the height of manners was to apologise for belching at the dinner table, rather than avoiding it.

The night continued with much laughter and chatting, man, this guy could talk, and eat, did you mention eat? As he scoffed his way through his fourth Pizza and his sixth bottle of wine, You noted he began to resemble a drunken labrador, playful but a fucking mess.

As much as you enjoyed his boundless energy and adorable goofyness, there no spark, (which was ironic considering the man literally shot sparks from his body) and no way in hell that you where babysitting his ass.

"I'll make sure he gets home safe and that's that."

You thought to yourself as you both began leaving the restaurant. Thor grabbed your jacket and slapped it onto your back, causing you to stumble forward. He draped his arm around your shoulder, leaning on you, babbling about how Midgardian wine, had nothing compared to potency of Asgardian mead. Which for all his talk, had managed to render him in this sorry state.

"oh, you must come back to the tower and try some, you'll love it lady Y/N, it is nearly as good as the popping delicacies you Midgardians create" Thor slurred while holding his hand out to hail a taxi for you both.

"Sure" you agreed through gritted teeth, even if only doing so to make sure his drunken ass got home safe, the thought alone making you giggle.

Your heels echoed as you walked off the elevator into a cavernous communal area, Thor still leaning on you for support, he headed straight towards the kitchen area, leaving you to drape your jacket over the sofa in front of you.

"this is some place, Thor. " you smiled walking towards the floor to ceiling glass window wall the looked out over New York, your voice practically bouncing off the walls. Being this high above the city, almost made it look peaceful, the warm glow from the street lights giving you a calming feeling, as you stood there and admired the view.

You where interrupted when a chorus of fallen pots and pans hit the floor surrounding the drunken thor, with his tongue sticking out in concentration as he hunted for his prize.

"Brother, must you make such a racket. Can you and your conquest retire for the evening and leave me in peace?"

The voice echoed loudly, almost causing you to jump. You hadn't noticed the pale stranger, hidden in the shadows in a comfy seat in the corner of the room.

"I do have a name, you know." You hissed, raising your eyebrow at the audacity of whoever the fuck this stranger thought he was.

"and I'm sure he doesn't know it nor will be care after tonight"

The figure retaliated, closing over his book and standing up from his chair. his bright green eyes, glimmering in the darkness, clearly enjoying himself.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and looking over to Thor for his take on all this, only to see him, mouth full,surrounded by crumbs and hugging several boxes of pop tarts, ignoring both of you.

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you faced back towards the stranger, to find him inches in front of you.

He was tall, gorgeous with a smirk on his alabaster face and eyes glimmering with mischief.

He looked you up and down, keeping a solid poker face, while he gagued your reaction. He then glanced over to his brother looking like a hamster practically storing pop tarts in his cheeks for the long winter, and chuckled, casting his gaze back to you.

"forgive me my dear. I am used to my brothers.... companions.. being as disruptive as he is. "

nodding over to his brother who has since, sunk to the floor, hugging his pop tarts and snoring like a tugboat with sleep apnoea.

"since my brother has once again disappointed both myself and you, allow me to take over as gracious host for the evening."

he smiled, stepping over his snoring brother and directing you into the small bar adjacent to the room you were both in.

With a shimmer of green, two wine glasses appeared in his hands, as he offered you one. It was filled to the brim with an amber coloured liquid that resembled liquid gold and smelled utterly divine, you graciously took the glass and sunk into the cool leather sofa next to the fireplace.

"Asgardian mead is what my brother usually promises his dates, am I correct?"

You blinked, colour flushing to your cheeks, and beginning to wonder just how many people he had had identical nights with. Maria was going to get her arse thoroughly kicked when you next met her.

"You are correct, Mr?"

you enquired, trying to be polite. You knew exactly who he was. You recognised him from all the news articles back in 2012. The god who came to conquer New York, only to get his ass handed to him in spectacular fashion by the newly formed Avengers.

"Now now, come now my dear, don't play coy. Loki Laufeyson, god of mischief at your service"

he smirked, taking your hand to his lips and kissing it, His green eyes never leaving yours for a second.

Whether it was the mead, or this gorgeous man in front of you, every word and every stare seemed to be sending sparks straight to your already thoroughly soaked core.

Panicking, you swallowed more of the mead, hoping the god before you wouldn't notice how flushed you were while adjusting your legs to take some of the pressure off your aching core.

Vivid images flashed through your mind. You and the god of mischief in the throws of passion. His face buried between your legs, devouring your pussy like a starving man, and those emerald eyes, staring at you the entire time, never loosing eye contact.

You closed your eyes and shook your head, looking ahead to find Loki sitting across from you, smirking.

"I.. uh.. think this mead, may be stronger than I'm used to" you said, coughing slightly and continuing to blink rappidly as you sat your glass down on the table between you and Loki.

Looking back up, another image of Loki appeared sitting on the leather sofa. Legs spread and staring at you intently, his black dess trousers around his ankles and his hard, glistening cock in his hand as he pumped it back and forth.

You felt your mouth water as you looked around confused before finally looking down at yourself to find you where on your knees, completely nude, kneeling on the cold hard floor as he beconned you to crawl to him.

Your heart pounded in your ears, as you felt almost entranced, you needed to go to him, practically drooling at the sight of his hard leaking tip, moistening his massive hand.

Just as your hand was about to make contact with his thick thigh, the image disappeared, replaced with an amused looking down at you from the same position on the sofa, but fully clothed.

"As pretty as you look on your hands and knees, im sure the sofa is a much more comfortable place to sit"

He smirked. You squeezed his thigh, gripping it tightly as you slowly stood yourself up, making sure to give him a good show as you stood up.

Unable to take it anymore, you leaned in until you were nose to nose with him and said,

"Mischief indeed."

You said, barely above a whisper as you leant in and bit his lip before pulling back.

You gazed into his eyes, waiting for a response, as he let out a ferral growl before capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss, grabbing your head and pulling you to stradle his lap.

"A god has the right to toy with his play things little one" he growled, his forehead still on yours as he gripped your hair, pulling you back to his wanting mouth and tongue, as he ground his hardening cock against your long since soaked panties.

You broke your mouth from his as you unbuttoned his shirt, his mouth moving to your suck your neck moving down to your chest as he slipped the straps of your dress down your shoulders, kissing and biting as he went, eliciting a symphony of moans from you. He pulled your dress down to your waist, exposing your chest to his mercy as you made your way to his belt buckle.

"Fuck me, you really are a god" you moaned grinding back against him as you admired his naked chest and throbbing cock.

"As you wish darling"

he whispered into your ear, the vibrations of his low voice causing you to shiver involuntarily.

A green light enveloped you both, as you were both stripped naked.

Loki pinched and sucked at your chest, while his hand travelled down to find your swollen neglected clit. You cried out as his fingers finally made contact, making you buck your hips, taking him deeper as you both groaned in unison.

Loki took hold of your ass, gripping it tightly as he began to thrust upwards, leaving you to the mercy of his glorious purpose as he relentlessly thrust into you. You felt a hot gush dripping down your thighs, as you screamed in delight, his cock hitting just the right spot, as he fucked your orgasm from you relentlessly.

"Fuck Loki I'm gonna..."

"Do it. Cum for me darling, I want to feel you fall appart on your gods cock."

He groaned, his breathing becoming erratic.

You cried out in extacy, arching your back as you felt the thick ropes of cum filling you completely.

As you leant back forwards your forheads clashed, both of you panting, covered in a light sheen of sweat.

"Fuck, Loki, that was incredible"

You finally signed, after a moment of blissful silence between you both.

A green shimmer covered you again, leaving a cosy blanket wrapped around your naked body, Loki's softening cock still buried deep inside you. He wrapped his arms around your back and stood up, making you wrap your legs tight to his waist to hold on.

"I hope your dinner was enough sustenance for you darling. Your going to need your energy for the night I have planned with you"

Loki smirked, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss before teleporting you both to his Chambers for the evening.

Tagging some lovely people who may like this:

@lokisgoodgirl @michelleleewise @geminigirl0298 @lokischambermaid @holymultiplefandomsbatman @sarahscribbles @muddyorbs @wheredafandomat @mochie85 @cake-writes @coldnique @xorpsbane @lokiprompts @mistress-ofmagic @peachyjinx @space-mermaid-writing @word-addict-lisette @with-inked-solace @queen-of-mischief @faraum @xaquarianqueenx

[daytaker]

i have come back with more questionable mc behaviours as a treat

mc who’s a LeVeyan satanist, that or another idea of a similar variety which is when mc gets teleported they were wearing a “hail satan” shirt

also i loved the creepy scientist like mc (๑>◡<๑) - clown anon

Clown Anon MCs - [ Clowncore MC | Death-Fixated Science Geek MC | LeVeyan Satanist MC ]

I want to own a Sheep MC plush that wears a Hail Satan shirt. I want that to be among my possessions when I die.

That out of the way...

(cw: references to drug use, references to sex, this is the church of satan. sex drugs and rock n roll. this gets extremely silly towards the end.)

Satanists Don't Believe in Satan

You were vibing to Eurythmics, sitting cross-legged in your bedroom and trying to meditate while your Snake, Dr. Faust, wound his way around your arm. And then, suddenly, you weren't. The shag carpet was replaced by a hard wood floor, and the warmth of your bedroom was replaced by the cool draft of a large assembly hall with windows. And some punks in military academy uniforms were scowling at you.

"What the fuck? What gives?" You were really confused. Did you already hit the acid and you're so high you forgot? You stood up and looked down at yourself. You were still wearing your CoS shirt and pink pajama shorts, and you still had on your fluffy slippers.

"Welcome, uhhh...." A big guy in red squinted at a piece of paper, then looked at me. "Is your name actually Omen LeVey?"

"That's what it says on my driver's license, bitch." Dr. Faust wound his way up your arm and into your shirt. He clearly didn't appreciate the change in temperature either.

"It's not too late to swap them for someone else, is it?" whispered a dark haired man to Big Red.

Big Red ignored him. "Welcome, Omen, to the Devildom! I'm sure you're very confused, but everything will make sense soon. You have been chosen to participate in an exchange--"

"Where do you think you're going?" The dark haired bitch cut off Big Red as I walked to the door.

I turned around. "Uh, out?"

"Out where, exactly?" asked the bitchy one.

"Out of here? I'm not sitting around waiting for you to go through some sort of timeshare presentation with me. However I got here, I'm sure I'm high as fuck, and I'm not going to spend my time high as fuck getting talked at by this dude. No offense, Red."

Ten minutes later, you were tied to a chair in the middle of the assembly hall. Big Red, the bitch, and three other guys stood around you, unsure what to do.

"Is this, like, an ex of yours or something, Satan?" one of the extras asked another. They were both twinks, and they were also both quiet up to this point, so you couldn't really think of how to differentiate them on the fly.

"No? What are you talking about?"

"Their shirt!"

All five guys stared at your graphic tee, which was black with white splatter text that read:

"CHURCH OF SATAN "DO WHAT THOU WILT SHALL BE THE WHOLE OF THE LAW" - SATAN PROBABLY"

"I can't believe Satan has an entire church dedicated to him! I wonder if there are churches to me," Twink 1 said with a sigh.

"That's not a church dedicated to me," replied Twink 2. "Their entire doctrine is a repudiation of my very existence. You should educate yourself, Asmodeus."

"Helloooo? Excuse me?" You wobbled in your seat, trying to get their attention. "Since I don't have any choice but to listen, I'll allow you to go ahead and tell me what the fuck is going on."

Big Red sighed at began to explain again. "You've arrived here in the Devildom as an exchange student from the human world. For the next year, you will be living here in the Devildom with us demons, attending the Royal Academy of Diavolo, or "RAD", we we tend to call it."

"...Okay, so clearly this is a bad trip, so I'm gonna politely ask if we can skip to the part where I'm finished having sex with my downstairs neighbors and I turn into a ball of energy? Like. C'mon. Chop chop."

"I am Diavolo, acting lord of the Devildom. And this is Lucifer, my right-hand demon and confidant." He gestured to the bitchy one.

"Charmed," you said in a voice saturated with sarcasm. "What about those three?"

"Ah," Diavolo said, nodding. "Those are Asmodeus, Satan, and Beelzebub. They are Lucifer's brothers."

"This is so wild. So Satan and Lucifer aren't the same dude?"

"Careful what you say," said Twink 1--or Asmodeus, as you now knew him to be. "You'll make Satan angry!"

"Sorry bro. Look look look, though, I'm in your fan club." You hope your shirt with Satan's name on it will butter that one up--Satan is Twink 2, as it turns out; a skinny blonde kid with a yellow bow tie. You aren't sure how to feel about that, exactly. You'd always pictured him as a cartoon goat-man, more or less.

"Do you really think you can butter me up by claiming that the Church of Satan is my fan club?" He scowled at you, looking indignant. "Didn't you hear me earlier? I'm aware of what your so-called 'church' teaches, and while I'm not opposed to the ideology in a broad sense, I can't support a group that considers my very existence to be a joke."

"Hey, hey, it's not a joke," you said soothingly. "You're just the theological equivalent to the Queen of Engand. Powerless, probably fake, definitely dead, but you look good on merchandise."

"Do you want to die?"

"Sometimes."

"Omen, you will be living with these four and two of their brothers for the next year." Diavolo smiled at you, apparently choosing to ignore every word you've spoken.

All four of the brothers looked crestfallen.

"Oh, yeah, I feel real fuckin' welcome. Roll out the wagon, why don't ya?"

"Is your name actually Omen LeVey?" asked Big Red again in a murmur, looking at his sheet with as mystified an expression as ever.

Dr. Faust, still coiled around your arm, peeked out at the world again and flicked his tongue. Asmodeus screamed, and Lucifer pointed at you and demanded, "Diavolo, swap it for a different one!"

---

Epilogue.

Eight months later, you and Satan marry. Dr. Faust officiates. Together, you have three children, all of whom refuse to acknowledge their fathers' objective existence.

[ipatrichor]

my thoughts on dead boy detectives after watching episode one

okay first of all i gotta say i love the vibe. two ghosty boys running around solving cases and helping trapped spirits move on? that's so fun i love them

tbh. i don't know whats going on btween these two if it's platonic romantic whatever and i don't think any distinction can be drawn that matters. maybe that's the aro in me but they are each other's most important person and who cares about the semantics!!!

charles trying to get edwin to learn self-defense is very sweet. however i will say girl how has this not happened sooner. you literally just got chased through london by a knife ghost and your next case involves fistfighting a possessed psychic Please learn to throw a punch minimum. i would say learning how to fall properly is more important but it's not like they can get more dead. so.

unless they go to the afterlife or something i guess? interesting stakes, especially with the lady from the end of the episode who's looking for them. also the scene hanging outside the window was very sweet, with edwin promising he won't let them get separated. at this point i think it could go either way whether that was to establish their dynamic or to foreshadow, so we'll have to wait and see if the promise holds, but either way very touching moment

crystal my girl crystal!!!! i love her so much holy shit she is so messy!!!! i love love love her getting angry about her shitty situation bc. yeah! that's scary as hell having amnesia bc ur literal demon ex stole your memories and she's got no one except the boys, one of whom very openly doesn't want her around. that's really rough and i Love that she blows up at them about it in a moment of extreme stress instead of being unnaturally chill about an objectively awful situation like many mystical characters (especially when they're women)

anyway i think crystal should get a knife and stabbing privileges. she'd for sure misuse them but i think it'd be funny

edwin is so real for the 70 years in hell thing. girl if i was in the torture dimension for SEVEN DECADES i'd be awful to everyone, it's actually impressive that he restrains himself to being a petty bitch. good for him tbh, i think he's earned the snark. don't get me wrong it's unhelpful and sometimes downright mean, but it's also funny so i'm letting it slide

the witch... esther i think? god what do i say about her. ok im first gonna start with this: she's fucking chilling, it's so scary watching her body the group with ease until charles basically hail-marys and possesses her AND EVEN THEN it's for less than a minute til she forces him out!! it feels like encountering the bbeg when your party is level five- you know you can't touch her and have to play the situation carefully so she doesn't just end you, and the win is getting away with a different objective (here saving the kid) while knowing she's gonna be actively hostile to you now. scary stuff!

idk if this is the popular opinion or not but i just don't find her hot 😭 like yeah she's serving incredible cunt, but her awful pta mom energy keeps that from being attractive. idk if it's the mommy issues but i would feel unsafe and constantly judged in her presence which is usually a dealbreaker for me finding people hot. sorry ma'am i deeply respect your vibe and the cunt you serve i would just avoid u like hell if u were real

the whole snake in a bone dimension in her cupboard is pretty cool though, and i love that her blowing smoke in people's faces isn't just a power play but a paralytic that's So clever

any other thoughts.... the girl with long hair is pretty, and that interaction with crystal has me wondering if the show got cancelled for lesbianism. i feel like maybe not? idk, if it was the start of a relationship that seems weirdly at odds with the tone of the rest of the show, so im leaning more towards crystal was picking up a weird psychic vibe from her that might be important later. who knows though!! i'll just have to find out haha

anyway i got sucked back into reading a novel but i should get caught up on that sometime today and then it's on to episode two, lol. very interested to find out what's up with the cat's vague ominous warning and what esther's gonna do when she finds out they rescued the kid she kidnapped

[after-hours-art]

Get up, loser. We're going riding

Pairing: Nate Archibald x f!reader

Genre: fluff,comedy

Warnings: language,

All hail spring break. The sweet escape from the mundane of the Columbia lectures, banters between Serena and Blair, assignment due dates, and stress. And nothing quite says Spring Break like a retreat to Hamptons where your parents happen to own a small English-styled ranch. Every summer for you was always filled with lounging around the pool, horse rides, and parties with your friends.

You sigh in pleasure as you sunbath by the pool in the backyard. White swimsuit contrasts with lightly tanned for the past week skin. The weather has been generous enough to be sunny throughout your stay this year despite it being merely March. Unfinished tea stands on the table, already having caught the attention of the bees who found your sweet drink more appealing than the bush of blue peonies. Your eyes are closed as you savour the last day out of the city. Suddenly, a shadow casts down onto you. Confused, you open your eyes only to see the neighbours' son - Nathaniel Archibald. Though, your father only referred to him as Vanderbilt, refusing to acknowledge Nate's father. You raise your eyebrows, and then you spot two black helmets in his hands.

- Get up loser, We're going riding. - he says, throwing one on your stomach.

- Why? It's our last day of the break. Let me sunbath.

- Really? I've expected more enthusiasm out of the Hamptons Classic Horse Show champion. - he says, corner of his lips lifting up in a sheepish grin, one that really reflects his boyish energy, so unlike for a young Vanderbilt. He seemed more down when you saw him the last week at Columbia with that girl, Juliet, or whatever her name was. - Plus, sunbath in what? Sun might look nice, but it's still merely 46°F.

- Ex champion. The last time I've checked it's March, not August ten years ago. And I can sunbath whenever I want.

- Champion is still a champion. - he says. - Come on, not make me beg. And I bet you'd love to say goodbye to your horses, too. - he says, trying to tug on your heartstrings.

You roll your eyes, ready to scoff.

- You know that the point of lounging here and not being with horses is to ease my goodbye to them tomorrow?

- That's why we should come for a ride. To say a proper goodbye. - he takes your hand and gently pulls you up to sitting. - Come on. Last ride with a friend before it's time to return to gray reality?

- Why you're so clingy? - you scoff.

- Because I miss the girl next door. All the fun we had when we were younger, all the parties we ruined. - he smiles.

- The girl next door attends your school but you don't happen to notice her. - you say, pulling a thin white gown over your shoulders. Your lightly sun-kissed skin contrasting with the material catches his attention, making him smirk. As much as he'd like to control it, he's just a guy. When you notice the way he looks at you, you shoot a disapproving glare.

- Really? You're asking me for a ride only to ogle me? - you scoff. You start walking towards the house, Nate following after you with his glance focused on one particular part of your body.

- What can I do? I'm just a man.

- You're just a man, but it doesn't mean you can't control yourself. I'm just a woman, and you don't see me staring at your crotch. - you say, causing a pink blush of embarrassment to appear on his cheeks. - Meet me at the stables in half an hour.

- Wait. If you couldn't control yourself, you would stare? - he calls after you, but you're already halfway up the stairs on the first floor and pretend like you can't hear him. Nate shakes his head and is still a little ashamed for being called out like that walks out of your family's summer house to get ready himself.

//

You stand in the 5PM sun, leaning against wooden stall doors. Black Friesian mare that stands behind you nibbles on your tweed Chanel jacket.

- Coco, quit it. - you say in baby voice. - Don't be a little bitch. - you scold your horse gently.

Coco has been in the family for quite a long time. She's your mother's favourite. That fact might have affected the way she behaves since, for a horse who doesn't quite understand the value of the dollar, she is quite spoiled. Beige breeches hug your legs, elegant, freshly polished, riding boots reflect the setting sun. By your heel rests riding helmet from Chanel's 2013 collection. You mutter sweet praises to Coco as you await Nate.

- Finally! - you raise your voice and smile seeing the blonde in the navy riding set. You can't help but smirk seeing a polo riding helmet in his hands. - Archibald! I thought you're trying to be late and come for a ready horse! And that helmet, is it a Ghost of Hamptons Past?

Nate returns the smile, walking up to you.

- Forgive me. Mother had to dig this outfit out when I said I'm going horse riding with you.

- Lovely, she wants to play a match-maker. Too bad I'm engaged. - you present a fake pout.

- Oh, I didn't know. How's the lucky guy? - Nate looks confused, his expression reminding you of your golden retriever when he gets confused by commands.

- I was joking. Christopher doesn't want to get too serious. He says it'll hurt his 'bad boy' renoma. - you roll your eyes and turn around to face the stalls. Nate walks over to you, greeting Coco with gentle pat on her neck. The black mare's ears instantly pin flat against her neck as she tries to bite Nate. He jumps away from the stall, looking slightly scared.

- Your gigantic dog tried to bite me. Please tell me I'm not looking at my trail ride companion.

You can't help but crack a smile.

- My mom would've killed me if she knew I let anyone touch, let alone ride Coco. She's her little princess.

- Like what, she loves the horse more than you? - Nate jokes, following you to the small tack room. You pick a set of black bridle with a simple bit and hand it to Nate. He hangs it on his shoulder, ready to take a saddle from you when you'll hand it.

- Coco was supposed to be my horse. My mom had that classic equestrian fantasy that her child would grow up along the horse, they'll become best friends and such. - you tell, picking a black general purpose saddle that has black deprecation half pad and navy saddle pad. - Guess what, Coco was sassy as a filly, and she remained that way. Never really liked me, so... when I was thirteen, I got my own horse.

Nate chuckles as he takes the saddle from you.

- You picked a horse with a tack that matches my outfit for me? - he chuckles as you pick up your equipment.

- I'm just a girl, Nate. I couldn't resist.

He rolls his eyes but doesn't comment, a soft, content smile lighting up his face. Hamptons is always so easy when you're around. You always were his sweet escape from Blair and Chuck's schemes, from Serena's flirts and dramas she tends to cause. There definitely is something about sheltered girl next door that always was in the back of his head. Something about that innocence radiating from you, equally annoying and captivating. Though it definitely served as his very own entertainment show when religiously for four summers, you've been rejecting Chuck's advances.

Nate follows behind you as you walk towards the stalls. Your family doesn't own a lot of horses. Your parents permanently moved to Hamptons only a few months ago when you started university, though they still make monthly visits that last a week. You guide Nate to the stalls, finally hanging the tack on an iron hanger. A head of a bay Hannoverian gelding pops out from above the door, curious horse instantly reaching to sniff your clothes.

- Hello, pretty boy. - you gently touch the horse's muzzle and give him a quick kiss. - You gonna miss me, don't you?

You turn back to Nate and point a stall next to yours.

- That's your companion. His name is Snowflake. He's a gelding and a total cutie. But be careful with back hoofs. He thinks that you might want to hurt him or something.

- So I did got a horse that will try to kill me. - Nate jokes, putting his tack on the hanger. - And here I thought you liked me.

- I do. I picked you a horse to match your outfit, did I?

He leans over the stall door, his eyes meeting with an Andalusian gelding.

- Poor guy, they chopped your balls off? - he says, letting the horse smell him before carefully grabbing the halter as he opens the stall door, wanting to walk the horse out. If Snowflake is so sensitive about his legs as you claim, then it's definitely safer for Nate to groom and saddle him up outside the stall.

- That's what we do when our boys are bad... - you joke, entering your horse's stall. - Or at least that's what happened to Snowflake. When we got him, he was so aggressive towards Coco. - you murmur, gently grooming your horse. - But then again, Coco wouldn't let herself be attacked, so she beat him up. Pretty badly, he was limping for a few good months. Damage was just almost permanent. So he got fixed. And immediately became a sweet gentelman. Who knew what magic could simple removal of testicles do? - you chuckle and carry on with brushing your horses coat.

- So that's what you'll do to Christian if he'd piss you off? A quick fix? - Nate jokes, carefully cleaning the front hooves of Snowflake's, white gelding looking like he's about to take a nap.

- His name is Christopher. And no, I won't have to. He shows so little initiative that I won't ever have to. - you mutter quietly, putting the tack on your horse, fastening the girth loosely.

- A pillow princess boyfriend?

- No. Actually sex is the only thing he shows initiative towards. - you murmur quietly, mentally questioning yourself why you're even sharing this detail. You gently tug on the reins, waking your horse out of his stall. It does hurt that Christopher only shows initiative, or any feelings other than indifference or annoyance towards you, in a situation where he knows he'd get you to do things for him. And, as gullible to his empty yet sweet words and people pleasing as you are, you always do.

Nate follows you with his gaze, suddenly feeling pang of guilt for even mentioning your boyfriend.

- So just a regular jerk.

- He's not a jerk. - you scoff, adjusting the length of the stirrup leathers, just to avoid his worried expression.

- Then what he is if not a jerk? A caring boyfriend? Loving partner?

- It was supposed to be a nice, friendly ride. - you say, your hands almost automatically reaching for Snowflake's tack, carefully saddling up the gelding, leaving Nate to only observe. - Not a therapy session.

- The dude makes you need therapy? - Nate asks bluntly, gently putting the bridle on Snowflake.

- Nathaniel, please. - you ask, fastening the girth so the saddle will stay secured. Nate doesn't answer, respecting your request, putting on his polo helmet.

- Thanks for saddling him up. - he says, turning to adjust the stirrup leathers.

Corners of your lips lift a little in a relieved smile that he dropped the uncomfortable topic. A soft muzzle touches your lower back. You chuckle and turn to your horse, the gentle gelding apparently sensing your distress wanted to sooth you the only way he could. Metal snap link shines in the sun, making a clicking sound when you take it off your horse's bit's circle.

- The mounting block is next to the pasture. And from there it's straight road to the gate so you have to be careful. - you instruct Nate, clicking your tongue to distract your horse from Snowflake behind him.

A few moments and little adjustments to saddles' girths later, you find yourself on the small trail to the beach. Horses' hooves hit the gravel trail, which, mixed with occasional horse snorting and singing birds, being the only sounds around you two for now. The sun falls on your faces once you take a turn to the left and walk down on the beach. Your horse, surprised by the sudden change on the bed, flinches and backs out, his rumb dangerously close to Snowflake's chest and Nate's right leg.

- Y/N... I'm not an expert, but your horse seems like he might kick Snowflake... - he says, just in case of being bucked, grabbing the reins firmer. His stomach twists uncomfortably seeing that his leg is in almost direct way of your horse's potential kick. Both horses have their ears pin flat, which only serves as another stress factor to him.

- It's okay. I got this. If you could... back Snowflake a little? - you ask, holding the reins firmly yet gently, using your calves and pelvis to encourage your horse to walk on the sand.

- Back a horse?

- For God's sake, you played polo. - you mutter, trying to control your own emotions, not wanting the nervous creature underneath you sense any negativity from you.

- Yeah, a million years ago. - Nate scoffs, but thanks to muscle memory, he manages to back Snowflake. He straightens his posture up, lifting his hands up and with slight pressure applied to the reins and subtle leg pressure. The Andalusian responds to gentle guidance from his rider, removing himself just enough to be relatively safe from potential bucking from your horse.

Your gelding keeps on resisting the careful pressure of your calves on his side and gentle tugs of the reins, necessary to prevent him from sudden bucking.

- I can't do this anymore. - you mutter and get off the saddle.

As if touched with a magic wand, your horse obediently follows you down the tiny slope, not minding the change of footing from gravel to sand. You turn and look at the bay gelding in pure disbelief. Right behind your horse, Nate's walks down, and his rider doesn't hide a smile on his face.

- You're laughing now. - you scoff, pretending to be hurt, as you get back in the saddle, gripping the reins tighter as not to let your horse spring into full gallop the second he sees the open field of the beach. - But if it was you, you'd be begging me to switch horses. - You settle in the saddle, hands gently yet firmly holding the leather reins.

Nate smiles as he looks at you, the sun making your shine with a hint of warm golden hue. He can't help but notice a few sparks in your eyes as you take the scenery - empty beach, waves, horses - in.

- Wanna race? - he asks, guiding his horse to stand next to yours.

He doesn't get a chance to hear your answer when Snowflake yanks reins from his hands, starting to gallop down the coast. The hooves hit wet sound, and the soft noise combines with the sound of the waives. It takes him a few seconds to gather up to loose reins, knowing how dangerous it would be for the horse to just leave them to the fate. Despite regaining the control over the horse, the Andalusian still remains stronger as he carries on with the gallop, ears perked up. Nate looks over his shoulder, chuckling to himself when he sees your horse running after his.

The wind hits your face as you're trying to catch up to Nate. Couple tears fall down your cheeks as the pressure of the air irritates your eyes. You shift your position in the saddle, lifting your bottom off the saddle to the jumping position, letting your horse run even faster. Being generally lighter than Snowflake, your horse has no problem with catching up to the white steed in front of you. The sound of hooves hitting the wet sand, combined with the snorts of the horses, as neither of them wants to lose, creates an ambience of every equestrian's dream. Another five hundred meters into the race, both horses start to wear down, gradually slowing to canter. You gently nudge your horse to slow to trot. The Hanoverian relaxes, reaching his head forwards and chewing on the bit. Nate slows down his horse, having him align with yours.

Once both caples calmly walk together, you reach over to Nate and smack his arm.

- They needed a warm-up. You can't just show them an open road and gallop down it. - you scoff, caressing your horse's neck. Nate smiles apologetically.

- Snowflake yanked the reins from me.

- And that's an excuse you'd use during the polo match?

Hearing your jibe Nate can't help but smile a bit. He missed that friendly teasing between you two.

- You know that you haven't changed? - he says softly, a hint of melancholy in his voice. - It's like going back in time five years, and we're fifteen again.

- We're missing poorly riding Chuck a kilometre behind us. - you chuckle. Nate bursts into a laughter at the memory of his best friend's attempts to endear you, that including a structured lie about horse riding skills.

- If you had given him a chance, he'd give up. Chuck likes chasing more than a steady relationship.

- Come on. - you chuckle. - As if you didn't enjoy it when your grandfather's horse had enough and bucked him into water.

- I didn't. - Nate says in solidarity to his friend, but in his eyes shine small sparks of joy. He turns his head to face you and admires the setting sun at the sea horizon. - Do you ever wish that times like this could be frozen in time?

You look at him, a few blond locks poking from his helmet shining like gold in the sun. For the first time since you two met, Nathaniel Archibald appears to you as someone else than a partner in crime from childhood and adolescence, descendant of Vanderbilt's. Before you can name the feeling, you focus your gaze back on the beach in front of you, reminding yourself that you are already in a relationship. Finally, you break the silence.

- You ass would hurt if we were frozen in eternal trail ride. And horses would get tired.

Upon hearing that, Nate laughs again, his eyes still locked on you.

- I should've expected this answer.

[11queensupreme11]

First of all: Long Live the Queen! Hope you're doing great, your stories are a real delicacy... I first discovered your Tsunami fic when I was in my jjk era, but your Arsenic Blues woke up my inner pjo fan. So eager to see how this all unfold.

But for now, time for the Rankings!

My personnal RoR favorites based on the manga only:

1) Shiva--> Not in the harem, but I had to place him somehow. Was searching for a Shiva fic in the first place. Love the himbo energy. At least it's good to see he's one of the "sane" one in your story.

2) Anubis--> Same, feral himbo doggo energy, can we ask for more?

3) Beelzebub--> Noo don't unalive yourself Bb love u so pretty haha🥺

4) Hadès--> All Hail to the King, here for the BigBro energy

5) Poseidon--> Mytho/Pjo fan here, of course he's one of my favorite gods, but I'm not a fan of his RoR portrayal. He's pretty tho.

6) Apollon--> Too effeminate for my taste, I was rooting for Leonidas anyway.

7) Loki--> U ugly ass, stinky ass, nasty ass bi***

Now, the interesting part, the Ranking based on [Arsenic Blues], as for now, until chapter 31:

1) Beelie Bestie 🤗! It seems you will soon give us reasons to hate him, but for now he's my personal favorite. Hope he will overcome his current difficulties. Fun fact: I tried to translate "Beelie" in my language, tried to find an equivalent nickname, I found "Bébou" (pronounced beeboo, another way to say "baby"). That’s so cute!

2) Loki--> I know it's unlikely but... is this bad that I really want him to take Percy's virginity 😳? Your writing is soooo good, it made me root for him of all people. Everyone loves a good outsider, and since he doesn't want to kill Percy anymore, he climbs up the ranking.

3) Anubis--> Favorite from the manga, I was sooo happy to see that u included the doggo. Didn't appear yet, but I have really high hopes for him. Beware the Allmighty Knot!

4) Poseidon--> This is a dark fic, I understand the appeal, the taboo of the incestual relationship, but since he's already her father, her family, the one who has authority over her, I think he has an unfair advantage compared to the others. This is the reason he's kinda low ranked, but I really loved the relationship he built with our best girl. Embrace Fatherhood (but not too much😰)

5) Hadès--> Same here, too much authority over her, doesn't have the appeal of the gradually evolving relationship. Creepy old  uncle, hope your non-existent liver bursts. For now, he's the one who had the most "action" with Percy, so it seems unlikely that he will have her virginity as well.

6) Apollon--> Well, at least he's funny 😅. I'm sorry, but based on his pathetic simpy behavior, I have to give him the stamp of the "Whiny Little Bitch" of this story. Don't worry tho, there always have to be one in a fic, and he's not as bad as his Tsunami counterpart (Yuuta you nasty motherfucker I had faith in you-).

7) The Seventh--> Seeing the results of the poll, it seems I'm one of the only weirdos who voted for Ahura Mazda. Raa would be awesome too, but I have to say I was disturbed when I first saw that angry buff dude in the spin-off. For me, Raa was still that muscle mommy from the webtoon/manhwa Ennead (read Ennead. Ennead is good for your health). I just want the 7th to not be Cu Chulainn. I know I would still love it if you include him (cause ur writing is golden) but that's just a preference of mine.

I hope I'm understood. That's a big ass message, my thoughts are all over the place and my home country is known for having a shit level in english.

If you're interested I could do the same kind of ranking for Tsunami/Bloodflood. Have a great day, Peace!

A SHIVA LOVER OMG HIIIII

the anime did him sooooo good, he's so hot there, i'm glad they didn't fuck him up like LOOK AT HIM

the bonus chapter for chapter 91 is about shiva AND IM SO PISSED IT HASN'T BEEN TRANSLATED YET, I WANNA READ IT SO BAD I DON'T EVEN CARE IF ITS SUPER SHORT 😭😭

also, YES PLEASE you're free to give me your own bloodflood/tsunami rankings too!!!

[rynchoso]

Words of the Fallen

Technically Darien Gautier x Vestige!Reader, but all I can say is play Summerset's main quest in ESO before reading this.

part 2

Warnings : Use of Y/N once. Angst because it is. Spoilers for the end of Summerset. Language. The letter is taken directly from the game, which is why it’s written way better than what I’ve actually written.

Words: 1000 (I can't believe I got such a perfect count)

Robin’s comment: Cried making this, bon appétit. More seriously, this chapter (the game's DLC I mean) made me hate Meridia. She was one of my favorite daedric princes, but now it's over. All hail Azura. Anyway this is basically me telling Meridia what she deserves to hear. There's also a hint of a part two at the end ;). I'll try to write it, but I can't guarantee anything.

"Never trust a Daedric Prince. If there's anything I learned from all this, that's it in a nutshell. I used to think I had a purpose, a part to play in the grand scheme of things. I suppose I did, sort of, but the way things turned out, it wasn't at all the way I imagined. Meridia said I was her vessel. I guess my fate was sealed from the moment she brought me into existence.

Now, here I am, back in the Colored Rooms. I thought that when I gave my energy to restore the sword—and I did that for my friend, not for Meridia—I thought that was the end of me. I'm back, though, but this time is different. My light, it's fading. I can feel the darkness getting closer, pressing in. I expect that once the light goes out, that will be the end.

I need to tell you something about Meridia. She's a deceiver. She promised that if I served her faithfully, I'd earn my freedom. She never told me that freedom was just another word for the void. Don't trust her. Don't trust any of the Daedric Princes. Not ever.

I've found peace though. Meridia gave me a chance to see the world, and those I care about, one last time. To save those I loved. I'm grateful for that, at least.

I wish I had a chance to say goodbye to everyone. To Skordo. To Gabrielle. Gods, I'll miss them. But most of all, (Y/N). I don't know if she will understand how much she truly meant to me. Perhaps we'll see each other again, in another place, another time. I probably won't be the version of myself that's writing these words, though. That me will be gone. I can live with that.

I only wish I could have spent more time with everybody. Had a few more adventures. Ordered those drinks like we always talked about.

I hope my friends find peace, happiness, and love. They deserve what I could never have. If anyone ever finds this book, know that I will never forget those I named herein. And, if you find them, and I pray that you do, tell them this.

Protect the ones you love. Hold them close. Cherish their every moment. Make them laugh, and laugh with them. Smile together and never, ever, forget that the moments you have are so very precious.

Oh, and tell them not to forget me, either. I mean, I am a legend, as far as I know.

The polite, handsome, and humble knight,

Darien Gautier”

You let the book fall back on the bench where you found it.

No… No…

You were breathing heavily. And a few minutes later, surrounded by those trees, you let out your anguish.

Dawnbreaker gripped tight in your hand, you screamed.

“Take it back! Take your goddamn sword back!”

“It seems my vessel isn’t the only one who ended up having feelings when he shouldn’t.”

A bright light. There it was, this patronizing voice. This voice you had respected, after giving you back your soul and helping you in Coldharbour. This voice you grew to hate.

“You bitch, he was my friend!”

“Where is your respect, Vestige?”

Vestige. You hadn't been called that since that time you helped Abnur Tharn in Elsweyr. Only the companions called you that. The companions and Meridia. But even the Daedric Prince hasn’t called you that during this whole mission. It was like you were back in Coldharbour all over again. Back fighting for what you thought was right, back, fighting against and with forces you couldn’t comprehend.

“My respect for you died when Darien got condemned. By your fault.”

“He was my vessel, an empty shell, a weapon to do my bidding. He served his purpose.”

“He was my friend!” You yelled again.

“And a traitor.”

“How the f-”

“He sacrificed he life for you. He purified my sword, not to serve me, but to help you.”

“Oh, so this is it? You’re throwing a tantrum because your tool wasn’t devoted to you only?”

“Careful with your words, Vestige.”

“You owe me! I’m the one who fought Molag Bal, I’m the one who assembled all those allies to stop the coalition! I’m the one who just stopped Nocturnal! And you owe him too! He may have purified Dawnbreaker for me, but everything else he did was for you, to serve you, because he was your champion! Because he truly thought he could trust you!”

“And you owe me for your soul. And he owes me for the purpose I gave him.”

“You wouldn’t have been able to take my soul if I hadn’t fought in Coldharbour! It’s all thanks to me! And his purpose? He could’ve been a hero without disappearing for your fucking sake! Hell, he just wanted to help his friends!”

“Friends he shouldn’t have had in the first place.”

“I swear, I defeated Molag Bal and Nocturnal, I can defeat you too. Take back your fucking sword and give me back my friend.”

You could feel Meridia’s rising anger, the air feeling tense around you despite the Daedric prince not being here physically.

“You want your ‘friend’ back?” The prince of light asked, her voice filling you with a bad feeling.

“Yes!” You answered. “Free him from your realm!”

You swore you almost heard Meridia growling, even if that sounded out of character. But that being was strict and cold, full of authority, like a severe and cruel mother. But nothing about her was motherly. She might have been less ‘evil’ than other princes, but she still served her own interests, mortals were just tools for her, or obstacles she had to get rid of. And you were sure that she was now in the second category.

“You will have to free him yourself.” Meridia declared. “That is, if you can get out of my realm.”

Her voice was tainted in cruelty, and a blinding light burnt your eyes before everything went black.

[plutorine]

An Analysis of Raskolnikov's Natal Chart Placements (Part 1)

this is in continuation of my post re: raskolnikov's birth chart, as i did say i would make another discussing his major placements. before we begin, here are some things i wanna mention:

under the replies of that post i linked above, i used rostov/rostov-on-don as rodya's birthplace, but as user vintageshits pointed out, there is also textual evidence that suggests rodya hails from zaraysk. i tried using that too, and it more or less gives the same placements that rodya might have if his hometown was rostov.

i am not a professional astrologer, and most of what i have deduced from rodya's chart is merely an accumulation of my own observations/learnings over the past seven years of studying astrology. there will always be different interpretations for each aspect/placement; you are more than welcome to add on to the discussion if you wish to do so in the replies! :^)

also, this is a LONG read. maybe have some snacks / drinks ready XD spoilers about the book too

ARIES RISING, PLUTO in 1H

Gives off commanding, individualistic vibes; Rodya often prefers to be left alone and has grown accustomed to being alone (although I’d say that this is also due to his personality/way of living); he likes to be given his space and he is not above demanding it.

RESTING BITCH FACE!!! Every Aries rising I know has a signature RBF and they can’t hide it even if they tried. Couple this with the fact that Rodya also has Pluto in the 1st house; it’s very easy for him to come off as intimidating and sullen, and may also be critical of how he looks. remember that scene when somebody pointed out his worn out hat in chapter 1 and he started grumbling about it? yep. exactly.

BUT — never forget that what is intimidating may also be weirdly charming in the eyes of others! makes absolute sense why Dostoevsky wrote Rodya to be “exceptionally handsome… with beautiful dark eyes and dark brown (translation is debatable but i’m a dark brown-haired rodya truther) hair”; i had a classmate who was an aries rising and they had the most defined, alluring eyes ever — it was like they could see right through my physical body lol

Another applicable description that matches these placements is the passage: “...there was a sort of haughty pride and reserve about him, as though he were keeping something to himself.”

This one, I think, comes off as more of a result of having an Aries ASC square Saturn and Jupiter: “He seemed to some of his comrades to look down upon them all as children, as though he were superior in development, knowledge, and convictions, as though their interests were beneath him.”

Saturn touching the Ascendant often makes one come off as standoffish, cold, and reserved; people with this (undeveloped) aspect may seem as though they’re “above you” and act like they “know better than you” when really they just have a stick up their ass (this is a self-drag, I have Saturn in my 1st house and I used to act like this). Jupiter contacting the ASC may also have a hand in the passage above, especially the “haughty” part. Rodya acts as if he’s more “enlightened” (Jupiter) than his peers when really… he’s having delusions of grandeur due to not having eaten/drunk anything for days 💀

On a more physical perspective, these two aspects may contribute to Rodya’s “above average” height! Jupiter is the planet of expansion, and Saturn “elongates” what it touches (though, some may also say that having these touch one’s ASC may make them short/stout bc Saturn is also about limitations and Jupiter also “expands”, but ig in Rodya’s case we can interpret them in the former way.)

May be quite restless too; they often come off as agitated or always “on the move”; this was probably one of the reasons why Rodya hated his small room so much — there wasn’t enough space for him to be able to literally move around and draw out all that pent up energy inside him. This can also be explained by his chart ruler (Mars) being in Virgo, which is commonly known for its very nervous Mercurial energy.

His ASC also squares his moon, which I think also adds to the whole jitteriness he has; and his overall moody demeanor. The Capricorn moon in him wants him to suppress his emotional reactions, but his Aries rising wants it to be on display! Not anymore surprised as to why it was so easy for him to threaten Luzhin that he was going to throw him down the stairs LMAO (and more fittingly, because he didn’t want another word about his mother [the Moon, in astrology] coming out of Luzhin’s mouth). He can also be quite sensitive about the topic of his family, though may also be distant when he’s actually with them. There’s a lot of struggle with accepting his needs, as well, and this is also in connection with his Virgo Mars, again.

It makes sense too, that Rodya has a disconnect with his innermost thoughts/emotions and the things he does. Remember, when Razumikhin described him to Pulcheria and Dunya, he said that Rodya “...does not like showing his feelings and would rather do a cruel thing than open his heart freely.”

Also irritable, due to that Martian influence. My previous roommate had this placement; it was really easy to excite her / rile her up, be it for a positive or a negative reason. Acting out of instinct is also a main characteristic of Aries Risings. They always do the first thing that comes to their mind — in Rodya’s case it’s to help people (financially), which he ends up regretting afterwards because he’s already so broke XD — which may or may not always work in their favor.

Maybe it's just an observation on my part, but I find that Aries Risings always have to be the first in everything…? Or at least, they always want to do something that makes them stand out or confirms their suspicion/thoughts about an unknown thing that no one else has dared to do before. Perhaps that explains why Rodya was so hellbent on testing that theory (which he ended up not actually believing LMAO)

Another note on Rodya’s propensity to help others; his chart ruler is also in the 6th house, which is the house of service, routines and health — part of what he frequently does is quite literally go around helping people.

SCORPIO SUN in 8H

Quite possibly the most fitting adjectives in the book that can sum up Rodya are “...morose, gloomy, proud and haughty”; “suspicious and fanciful”; and “...fearfully reserved” (thank you, Razumikhin). These words capture what Plutonic energy is, in some of its rawest forms.

Being a Scorpio Sun myself (though I have mine in the 5th house), Rodya mirrors a lot of who I was when I was younger: heavily secretive, paranoid(as in, always feeling like everyone is out to get them); prideful and conceited at times. Rodya knows he’s intelligent, that’s why he can’t help but feel as though he’s the smartest in the room, but his propensity to detach and isolate himself from others renders him unable to realize how he and his ideas relate to others, and this leaves his identity and worldviews/perspectives unchecked. He’s just stuck in his own little world; inside his echo chamber where he repeats his ideologies to himself over and over again, convincing himself that he’s “enlightened” above others. All that talk about wanting to prove whether he was a trembling creature or if he “had the right” ties in with this.

The catch is, this makes him so terribly lonely. Part of what I have learned from astrology is that the house opposite where one’s Sun is the area of our life which we have to learn to “exist in”. For me, this was the 11th house. My methods of self-expression were always just limited to the purpose of “putting on a show” (5th house) for others, but as I grew older, I learned how to use my talents for more humanitarian causes (11th house). Going back to Rodya, his manner of experiencing life (Sun) is stuck behind the private screens of the 8H, which hides it away from the grounding reality of the 2H, ruled by Taurus. Another way to look at this 2H-8H juxtaposition is that Rodya's ego is on some obscure, nonphysical place (8H) instead of being grounded in real life (2H). He lives only for his mind, and forgoes his physical state. Well, we all know how he wouldn't eat for days and that his sleeping habit is shit. Dude's probably rank too. Oh Rodya.

I guess the best and most redeeming quality of Rodya being a Scorpio Sun is his capacity for rebirth and transformation. We get a glimpse of the initial stages of this while he’s serving his sentence in Siberia. His old self slowly begins a path of renewal towards his transformation into this “new self” that will have shed all what used to be who he was when he was twenty-three.

Sun Sextile Saturn: This reinforces even more that super serious and uptight nature of his (to a degree that is almost comical, like bro would it kill you if you stopped taking yourself so seriously??) Sun aspecting Saturn also denotes heavy responsibility as a young child, or having thrust into the role of a parent at an early age. We aren’t exactly given an age for Rodya when Roman Raskolnikov died, but we can assume that it happened pretty early. This heavy responsibility to fill in his father’s shoes is one of the reasons why Rodya feels so, so burdened by the fact that he’s not going anywhere with his education in St. Petersburg, knowing that Pulcheria and Dunya are also counting on him to get a job so he could support them, being the remaining man in the family; this may also be another reason why his pride couldn’t take it when he learned Dunya was getting married to a rich asshole like Luzhin, so she could contribute significantly to the family — he should be doing that, not his younger sister.

Sun Square Neptune: Did somebody say LIGHTWEIGHT? One of the possible interpretations of this placement is a heightened sensitivity to alcohol and other substances. I fucking cackled when I saw this aspect (I, unfortunately, have this as well), and it brings me back to that scene in Part 1 Chapter 5 where Rodya was absolutely zonked out because he drank a “wineglassful” of vodka 😭 On a more serious note, this placement also points to an absent father figure, or at least having experienced the loss of a father. The person’s sense of self also tends to fluctuate. Ever wondered why Rodya is so prone to switching  between his god complex and crippling depression? This is one of the reasons why.

Little astro tidbit about having 8th house placements: these natives are often the types who’ll just randomly have people involve them or tell them about the wildest shit in their lives, like unprovoked. For example, they’d be just chilling then suddenly a random ass stranger or somebody they don’t really know well starts telling them about their personal business. This was the same thing that happened to Rodya when Marmeladov suddenly approached him in the tavern and started narrating his life story to him 😭 and the entire time Rodya just,,, took it all in XD

CAPRICORN MOON in 10H

Just when we thought Rodya could not be more service-oriented (that is, when he’s not busy being an asshole), he’s also given a Capricorn moon to top it all off! Most Cap moons I know go out of their way to make sure the ones they care for are alright; they spend much time and effort on that sort of thing. Will they let you take care of them though? No LOL they’d rather be caught dead in a ditch than admit that they want to be taken care of

All that pushback Razumikhin got when he helped Rodya out makes so much more sense. Rodya could not fathom why Razumikhin would himself go out of his way to learn about his trifles despite the fact that they don’t really talk much (like,, Rodya doesn’t even say ‘hi’ to him at all out in the street) and aren’t close; although, Rodya is aware that Razumikhin is kind, and he even tells him this when he dropped by his place

When a Cap moon does care, they will put others’ needs first and foremost, esp if they can see that the person really needs help and is in a more dire situation than they are. Not above setting themselves back just so they could help.

Another one of those moon signs who come off as really serious, cold, and calculating; but they’re really softies (and drama queens) deep down, especially when they have water placements. Might also like to keep themselves busy with other things so they won’t have to experience an Emotion™️. I always like to say that Capricorns are just Scorpios in suits lol

I also noticed that with Moon in 10H, it can indicate a tendency of your parents to baby you?? idk but i definitely feel those vibes from Rodya and Pulcheria, esp when she first sees him, his room ("this isn't a room, this is a coffin"), and when he visits her for the last time. or maybe this manifests even as becoming "softer" when you're with your parents?? there's something so sadly endearing abt how Rodya talks in this scene:

"Here you are!" she began, faltering with joy. "Don't be angry with me, Rodya, for welcoming you so foolishly with tears. [...] Sit down dear boy, you must be tired; I see you are. Ah, how muddy you are." "I was in the rain yesterday, mother..." Raskolnikov began.

They might also have a thing for needing something to hold onto when they’re feeling upset/unwell? Capricorn’s cardinal energy mixed with a fixed Scorpio sun further points to being “twitchy” bc they can’t sit still (all that Mars influence,,) — cue “where’s my sock!! give me my sock!!!”

Another placement that points to Rodya's want of gaining some sort of "power" or "control" — and he has the capacity to do so, too (how he goes about obtaining it though, is another conversation). He can be (could have been) really successful if he wills himself to. Moon in 10H natives have this air to them of being well-established in whatever field they choose to dedicate their efforts in.

Feels emotions really deeply when they do allow themselves to (or when faced with the inevitable fate of experiencing them lol). I find that Saturnians are also kind of like Plutonians when it comes to feelings. When they invest in an emotion, you best believe they will feel it to its fullest; which is why I believe that underneath Rodya’s prideful and cold exterior is a heart that is capable of feeling love in the deepest, most profound way. What he said in Part 6 Chapter 7: “But why are they so fond of me if I don’t deserve it? Oh, if only I were alone and no one loved me, and I too had never loved anyone! Nothing of all this would have happened.” (Constance Garnett translation) — really broke my heart knowing Rodya fought against the desire to jump into the Neva because he knew he was loved despite his wrongdoings and all his rough edges; this consciousness was very strong that he felt regretful about being so loved by the people around him. He’s so,, :^(((( I just want to give him a hug :^(( he’ll probably cuss me out but whatever :<

Pig-headed, and will not stop until they get to do what they want to do. My partner is a Capricorn sun and it’s more or less the same — the moment Capricorns set their mind on something, they will see to it that they get it done, no matter what. Pair that with a really driven Aries rising and a Scorpio sun, and you have an unstoppable force.

Moon Conjunct Jupiter: drama queen placement wbk; i made a post about how i always associate Rodya draping himself over his couch like a D*sney princess would XD we just feel emotions deeply and we tend to get pretty extra about expressing it too, esp in front of people we trust,, or idk anyone who's willing to listen really. Though in Rodya's case, his Moon is also conjunct his Saturn, which means he limits his expression of emotions; or that he hides it from others — bro would rather choke than be direct with what he actually feels

Moon Square Pluto: another limiting aspect on his expression of emotions, though this aspect gives his capability to feel more depth and dimension. so when Rodya gets into his feelings, he really plunges into it. at the same time, the obscure yet volatile energy of Pluto also adds another layer to his Aries rising's impulsivity. Additionally, his Moon coming into contact with his Pluto in a square may also indicate pain that stems from the family / the mother. all that this placement reminds me of is that last conversation he had with Pulcheria. the most gut-wrenching shit i've ever read/watched.

WHEW. That's only like half of his big 6 placements. I'm currently working on the others (Mercury, Venus, Mars), but I might not be able to finish/get the post up any time soon because I'll be starting the last semester of my undergrad next week, and I'll no doubt be very busy again 😔

[go-go-gadget-autism]

i’ve been on tumblr to where i can sort of get the generalized humor that hit posts have and i know i’m funny enough to do them however i am also Too Stupid to Think of something.

so here are some quotes from me and my friends.

“what if i disguised myself as a chair?”

“that’s because you’re a classified homosexual.”

“having boobs does NOT make you magical.”

“since you haven’t seen rudolph the red nosed reindeer, i think you deserve to be shot.”

“why are you french”

“i am the sex”

“i will jizz in your oven”

“if you’re gonna get a blood disease, go big or go home”

“i’m not just fast, i’m autism fast”

“everyone needs an emotional support femboy”

“you should become a foot fetish artist”

“give me my aids”

“biblically accurate republican”

“i haven’t pissed in sixteen years”

“i didn’t waterboard the fish i swear!”

“i have the personality of a brick that plays dragon city”

“hentai father”

“the communism demons”

“i’m gonna commit a war crime on these fucking bugs”

“get sucked”

“the king of piss”

“the joke here is that you’re all going to die”

“*in hulk hogan voice* grab on my balls brother”

“*in scottish accent* necrophilia is like fine wine”

“platonic sugar daddy”

“i’m not gonna suck his nose.”

“girthy gunnage”

“how can a gun be autistic”

“don’t get your beans in a bungle”

“i don’t wanna be a bouillon cube!!”

“skinny jeans crush my balls, and not in a good way”

“i was gonna say that made me hard but then i remembered that i don’t have a penis”

“all chickens are racist.”

“people that use the skull emoji are attracted to femboys”

“aren’t fleshy potatoes just irish people??”

“he has rebellious white boy energy, and not in the sexy way”

“i’m just gonna casually eat poland gimme a second”

“you’re at perfect dick punching height”

“i am NOT a spy balloon!!!”

“penis jumpscare”

“stab me daddy”

“all hail the fuckle knuckle”

“that is the gayest fish i have ever seen”

“wait, you guys fuck ovens?”

“guys, am i a twink?”

“a gun is useless against the dreaded taxes.”

“chemically unstable shitting”

“non-hispanic bitch slap”

“you’re a woman sometimes, go make me a sandwich”

“are you accusing me of being sans undertale?”

“not gonna lie, i’d let Ted Bundy kill me. I’d let him eat me. preferably alive.”

“someone’s parent. imma bang em.”

“hitler moment”

“breast buy”

“guys, i did it! i created therapy!”

“i need my HVAC bible”

“the grapes built like himbos?”

“you’d let a tree shoot you if it had enough eyeliner.”

“i am a terrible mexican”

“i am going to make you into a soup”

“fuck it. *unchops your suey*”

“i’m gonna cuck him. musically.”

“you may be an engineer, but i have the pokémon deluxe essential handbook!”

“i’m going to fight the visible light spectrum”

“sounds like your balls just couldn’t handle the neutron style”

“i don’t do vapes i only do bagels”

“if you shit on my couch i swear to fucking god”

“you’re balls?”

“on a happier note, i just purchased England!”

“yeah, that’s old hag energy”

“i am now switzerland”

“i am in a relationship with gay jesus”

“what’s up cucumber”

“unlike you, i’m misogynistic.”

“hoe you are NOT going commando while working at an arby’s”

“ok well if you do throw up try to aim for the holes in your violin”

feel free to add your own quotes! my friends and i say some insane shit sorry

[brilliantfantasticgeronimo]

The Robot Revolution

SEASON PREMIERE LETS GOOO

im going completely blind into this dflkfjd tried to avoid filming spoilers/leaks/trailers this time so i rlly have no idea what's going to happen

"i know girls arent good at math…" adric energy

"this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me" that felt very sarcastic lol

MUSIC MUSIC MUSIC

KILT !!!!

smith and jones energy?

"was it your wife?" dsklfj

ok maybe not that sarcastic if she kept it

cartoon robot energy

"chandra"? EYES EMOJI?

"bye bye" dsklfjsdkl "you aint seen me!" AHHH WE'RE SO BACK

cant believe 14 managed to make the stripe pattern suit even more slutty

"polish polish" there's so much cartoon energy sdklfjds loving it

"the great ai generator" groans. we need new blood in the writers room sdlkfjsdf (it's not ai it's LLM ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhgggg)

she's so beautiful wow

there was a thing that chibnall and co used to say in regards to s11… which always stuck to me… good doctor who stories are like playground make-belief games . this "every ninth word is lethal" would make a good playground game lol

slave uprising storylines hit different with a black doctor and an asian companion

"and take me to the stars" she's gonna die isn't she.

sdklfjsdlk not even 5 seconds

14 ): my blorbo

can u imagine people complained about 14 "crying too much" lmao. iamgine not enjoying seeing this beautiful man cry beautifully. couldn't be me.

"there's always a doctor standing back while the nurses do all the work" character mission statement?

x-ray blankets! fun

"if you start deciding which body is best, you will go down a very dangerous path" topical moment #2 also, hits different with a black doctor moment #2

omg her listening to his heartttttttt. cute.

the "clara storyline but it's not clara round 3 LETS GOOO

"like in a time travel way?" "timey wimey" "timey wimey" "yup" (deadpan) "am i six?" FISNDKFJDSKL UFCKING FINALLY. I FEEL SO REPRESENTED.

"you were at my house?" 🤨 sdlkfjsd i'm liking her vibe

"and she died helping you" "it was not belinda's fault!" oooh, mirror

"you're as bad as the robots" dslkfjs she must be so confused. bro why are u putting me in this apocalyptic movie. im in the wrong show.

BLINOVITCH LIMITATION EFFECT MOMENT (why dont they mention it in new who sobs T_T)

"are you some sort of time detective?" "HA. no" he is actually

"im sorrry, but people are dying, and it is my time"

the ai generator gives star fox boss energy

"you are the historian, you will witness events, not participate" poignant lines

"it's not ai, it's al" omg i didnt clock that at all bc i was so mad about the wrong terminology… the hubris. sdlkfjsdkl (i love it)

"i thought you went to margate?" "stargate" haha

"it's my fault" dsklfjds what's up with "the self-attribution of guilt for things you had no contorl over" theme in this episode.

alan is such a good name for a trashy boyfriend character

"violent games are bad, kids"

"and when we're married, i really don't think you should wear clothes that tight anymore. plus, no more texting after 8pm, OK?" "alan, sweetheart, no" dying

planet of the incels lsdkjflskd i bet /r/gallifrey hated this episode

damn i should have kept counting the words. didnt clock that.

the alan design is really great and contrasts with the cartoonish design of the robots

the design of the polish robot is pretty cute too

the editors went Off with the da vinci effects suite in this episode lol

i feel 14 should've realistically regenerated from "taking that kaboon" but whatever sldkfjsd

"i just went through your entire life like a bullet" good line. also clara's ghost rlly haunting this sdklfj

"goodbye alan" sdlkfjsdkljfklsdj

"LET'S GO LET'S GO LET'S GO" this man needs therapy

all hail belinda, queen of planet earth!

he said the line!!!!!

get me to heathrow airport bitch

love how the tardis always carries the show's promo pictures in its databank (it's a tv show after all)(gets shot)

"you're dangerous" belinda ain't dumb

"i'm not one of your adventures" loving the "the doctor is a fuckboy" subtext of this episode

altho i enjoy how matter-of-fact she's taking all this, and i get that it is done to Save Time in the script, it feels a bit unrealistic for a 21st century person to not have at least 1 moment of Losing Their Shit about space travel, time travel, aliens and dimensional engineering. kinda takes me off a bit from the scene…

"this is… this is… i dont know what this is" ncuti my beloved

HELL YEAH WE'RE DOING KIDNAPPING AGAIN!!!! TAKE HER TO LONDON 1965 BITCH!!!

very breezy and funny episode. not a lot of food (at least that i could detect on first watch) but. i enjoyed it. excited to see more of Belinda. 6.5/10.