#One of the coldest bold takes of all time

[write-and-buried]

You ever read something that is just so off the wall insane you stop in your tracks and stare at it?

[half-dead-writer]

I wanted to write something short and fun so the writing might not be as amazing, anyways- another nsfw with Matthew, who coulda predict that I'm sorry

Kiss Me Again (NSFW)

You find out your roommate has never kissed anyone (except that one time with his ex-girlfriend). You offer to help with that, and more.

character: Matthew Patel (Scott Pilgrim Takes Off)

words: ~4,5k

reader: gender neutral

warnings: smut with some awkward moments

𝔯𝔲𝔩𝔢𝔰 + 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 / 𝔖𝔠𝔬𝔱𝔱 𝔓𝔦𝔩𝔤𝔯𝔦𝔪 𝔗𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔒𝔣𝔣 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

The unassuming, cheerful sunny emote on your weather app suggested it's gonna be a hot day. This was an understatement. You felt as if you were boiling alive in a heated pan. The walk to your house was exhausting. You hoped to get some relief by entering through the doors, but the temperature inside wasn't much different. You put your phone on the closest counter, feeling too eager to get out of your work clothes. The buttons of your shirt tried to make your live worse by not cooperating, forcing an annoyed sigh out of you.

On a normal day, you'd already be hearing muffled singing behind the wall, most often some lyrics from a musical. But the house was unusually quiet. Matthew usually had a lot to do, not having trouble keeping himself occupied. But maybe the heat wave was too much to for him as well, leaving him to bedrot aimlessly in his room. Or he was just out of the house at the moment.

You moved through the corridor, leaving a bit of your chest open to cool down. You were still partially covered by the fabric of the shirt loosely hanging on your sides, not being held together by the buttons anymore. Your intention was to quickly scoot over to your room and grab some comfier clothes, but a sight of your roommate laying on the kitchen floor stopped you before you completed your objective. He had earphones in, browsing his phone and humming a melody under his nose, obviously not paying enough attention to hear you coming through the front doors.

He rested his head on a pillow that's been leaning against the wall, creating some resemblance of comfort in comparison to the hard, wooden floor the rest of his body was pressed against. His black shirt was lifted up to his ribcage as an obvious attempt to cool down. Your eyes avoided looking at the dark hairs trailing further down his stomach. You locked eyes together, making the man quickly pull out the earphones and lightly tugging on the shirt to cover himself. "Is it that comfy on the ground?" You raised your brow with a smile while making sure you weren't too indecent yourself.

"It's the coldest here!" He tried to to explain, feeling a bit silly being caught in this position, "we need to finally buy a fan."

"Yeah, it's an even bigger nightmare outside." An agreeing sigh left your lips. You didn't think much of his eyes following you as you went to your room to change. He remained in his place, with his phone laying on his chest, turned off. He valued your attention more. And right now his was pointed onto the pillow you held in your hand. Mild surprise painted his face as you gently positioned yourself next to him. Your crossed arms posed as a second pillow for your head.

"You're right, the floor does cool you down a little." Matthew watched as you casually lifted up your shirt in a similar manner he did previously. Going shirtless was too bold to do, seeing as Matthew still kept his shirt, but since you also saw him in a similar situation, you felt it'd fair and not make him uncomfortable. Sometimes you'd parade in your undies around the house, especially right after you woke up, with sleep still keeping you in it's grasp. He never commented on it. The sight of a sleepy Matthew in his boxers and a shirt that looked a bit too big on him wasn't unusual either. You both seen the other in some of your worst states, but it was natural. It was human to not be pretty all the time (even if Matthew still insisted on wearing eyeliner even when he knew he'd be staying in the house all day).

"So, anything interesting happening at work?" He averted his eyes from your bare skin, the question made you chuckle involuntarily.

"Work being tiring, per usual. Well, I almost dropped a glass bottle on the floor and got yelled at but that's as close as you'll get to 'interesting'." Your sight wandered on the ceiling above you. Your eyes traced the faint pattern carved on it. Matthew copied you, humming in acknowledgment. A few more topics passed in your conversation, mostly him rambling to you about his day. You didn't really have a direction in what you wanted to do after coming back from work, but the talking kept you entertained enough to keep laying on the floor with your roommate. The subject of high-school appeared, making you remember the blurry memories. Some of them were bad, some of them were good, but you decided to keep your mouth shut about the most cringy stories.

"So, you said you had a girlfriend in high-school?" You came up with a random question to continue the conversation.

"Yeah, it's a long story, though." The mention made him turn his head, his long bangs covered half of his face from your view. He tried to hide his embarrassment in a layer of nonchalance. "I'm over her."

"Did you have anyone else besides her?" You hoped your talk didn't sound like an interrogation, you were genuinely curious. Your words made his lips tense into a straight line, he waited a second to choose a correct response.

"No, I- didn't really think about it." He said, glancing at you briefly to check your reaction. It was true, he didn't think about dating anyone other than Ramona. But you didn't need to know the full extent for why he did that.

"I never had a partner," you shot it out there as a fun fact, hoping it'd be something to bond over, "what was it like?"

That again made him squirm a bit over the response, but he provided. "I enjoyed the time we spent together, and that I had someone to talk to. Being able to look at other boys who were jealous was also fun."

"And- how did that differ from just being friends with someone?"

"Well- we kissed." He confessed, hesitating a second before adding. "...Once."

"Only once?" You felt the playful smile tugging on your lips.

"Shut up! It's... not like I had that many chances, okay?" He crossed his arms over his chest. You tilted your head, "What do you mean?"

"I- I wanted to, but I just didn't know the right time! But then the moment to do it would pass and the next thing I know it's been an entire week and she grew tired of me." He pouted, putting all the blame on her.

"So... You only kissed once in your life?" You assumed it wasn't the case, giving him a chance to prove you wrong. Instead of an anecdote supporting that theory, he groaned, defeated.

"Don't rub it in." His hair was draped over half of his face, but you still managed to make out a slight frown that resided on his face.

"Oh, sorry, I just thought-" You stopped talking after realizing your further words wouldn't help this conversation, "I mean. I only kissed a few times, so not like I'm an expert either."

He sighed, letting go off his annoyance, but not the warmth on his face. This non-problem didn't really bother him throughout his daily life, but the fear of being lesser than other haunted him the moment it was brought up. Your intention wasn't to embarrass him, in reality you felt similar.

"I could kiss you, if you wanna." You looked the other way, not hiding the pathetic connotations of your offer. You weren't kidding about not being kissed much either. You treated him like a close friend, so the suggestion didn't seem as outrageous. Not to you, at least. Matthew shot a surprised glance at you, brows furrowed in confusion and disbelief. His lips suddenly felt dry. If it came from some stranger, he would have declined, but you? He trusted you. But that didn't make it any less embarrassing for him. This intense reaction made you regret your words a little. Thoughts raced through his head but none of them could find the right words to formulate a response. It took him a moment to realize that you were still waiting for an answer. "You... what?" It's the only words he could muster in the heat of the moment.

The awkwardness that came with his answer rubbed off on you a little, making you backtrack slightly. "I mean- You know. Casually. If you wanted to." You shrugged, feigning some indifference about the topic. You did want to kiss him, but you thought it'd be best to not show how desperate you were for some affection.

"You're sure this isn't... going to make things weird between us?" He asked, still on the fence about actually doing it. Mostly he just didn't want your casual relationship to turn tense. He was living with you in the same house, he couldn't afford not being able to relax in his own home. But you were probably already past that point, given the topic you were discussing.

"Why? Because we'd touch lips once?" You tried to point the conversation into a more lighthearted territory. He tried to chuckle to reciprocate the playful tone you offered, stressed due to the tension building in him. He felt it, hoping you'd ignore the way his voice cracked in the middle of it. He cleared his throat to regain some of his composure.

"Don't make it sound like I'm weird about this," he threatened halfheartedly, but his tone came out more like a plea. You gave him a second to think about it, resulting in him getting up to sit. You did the same, looking at him curiously but without any pressure.

"...I- I guess we could that," he muttered, forcing himself not to think too deeply of it. It was just a friendly suggestion, a way to make their relationship closer. He didn't wanna ruin it by being insecure. He tried to mask his expression with a poker face, but it was obvious there was some panic behind it. Your noses almost touched as he leaned closer to you, your eyes widened upon the realization he was serious about it. You felt the faint hitch in his breath against your skin as he scanned your reaction.

You were both just dorks, halfly not even knowing what you're doing, which made your movements flat and clueless. Matthew almost hesitated and pulled away when you shown no sign of reciprocation, until you finally pushed yourself to place your lips on his. It didn't last long, being just a mockup of a kiss. You both had your eyes open, clearly seeing the painful lack of skill from both sides. You pulled away, not able to control the laughter coming out of you. It made Matthew's ears go red. Scratch that, his whole face was red, from the assumption it was the worst kiss you ever experienced.

"We're so bad at it," you grinned, pointing out the obvious. The color almost drained out of him after hearing your words, making you quickly correct yourself. "I mean, it's fine that we are." That calmed him down a little. "Let's try it this way."

This time it was you getting closer to his face, making him instinctively push his back against the wall a little, but not too much to back away completely. You placed a hand on his cheek, making it easier for you to stabilize the kiss. Matthew closed his eyes after seeing you do the same and leaned in to the kiss. You gently pressed your lips, enjoying the warmth of his face as you softly brushed your thumb over his cheek. His body was tense. But not due to stress, at least not fully. He was just too intensely focused, as if the failure of the kiss would mean the end of the world. You pulled away after some time.

"...You can calm down," you almost felt it was necessary to say it, judging by his reaction. He was quick to gather himself up, "I know, obviously, I know."

"You wanna continue?" You didn't need to wait long for his slightly too eager nod. "I'll come a bit closer," you prefaced before getting on his lap. The way he raised his hands to avoid touching you when you moved closer made it seem as if you were on fire. Your lighthearted smirk briefly acknowledged this act. He noticed it, slowly and hesitantly putting them on your hips from lack of a better choice. You put aside the hair that tickled your face when you kissed him previously. Both of his eyes bored into you, showing nervousness and intrigue. You grabbed him by the chin this time. At first he stayed still, not daring to move. As the kiss progressed, he started to lightly graze your sides with his fingers. You felt the goosebumps appearing on your skin. His gestures were so unsure yet invested, it made your abdomen feel tingly.

You don't know what pushed you to lick the bottom of his lip, but he quickly got the hint and parted his lips. The muffled moan escaping him made you more confident in your actions, your tongue explored most of his mouth. It was you who took the lead, but Matthew wasn't just sitting there doing nothing - his hands got more courageous, now freely caressing your body as he warmed up to the situation. For a moment you almost forgot how you ended up here. Your enjoyment clouded the past events.

When you first got to know Matthew, you didn't think much of him, mostly just overwhelmed by having to share an apartment with a stranger for the first time. You eventually put down your guard, Matthew proved to be a pretty entertaining guy. His antics amused you more often than not and you were certain you could call him a friend with reciprocation. The thought of doing something other than platonic activities with him crossed your mind once or twice, but it wasn't as strong. You assumed it was just your lack of getting laid, not an actual attraction. Your opinion changed. You couldn't ignore how easily Matthew made you riled up with the simple things he did. You admitted to yourself that he looked incredibly cute.

The sloppy noises of your makeout were the only sound in the house aside of your labored breathing. The kiss continued for way longer than you both planned, but neither of you minded. At least that's what you thought, until Matthew abruptly pulled out, leaving you open mouthed. "I- I think we should stop." He muttered out, his voice out of breath and small. You felt your chest tighten, the thought of you pushing the things too far haunted you.

"...Why?" The intensity you felt during the act made you feel vulnerable after he stopped reciprocating, anxiety seeped into your voice. Matthew noticed your worried expression and felt his face getting warmer. It was an overwhelming, uncomfortable warmth mixed with a tinge of sharp regret of speaking up.

"I," he started, having troubles getting the words out, "I feel like I'm getting too into it." A crooked smile appeared on your face, slightly calmed down after getting to know the details of his issue. You still didn't know what would be an appropriate way to respond, but at least you knew it wasn't a problem of your bad kissing. "...So?" You put your hands on his shoulders, wanting to gently reassure him. Your willingness to continue made him feel weird inside.

"That's- That's fine with you?" He asked, disbelief present in his voice. He expected you to pull away, at best, be mildly uncomfortable, at worst, disgusted. He never went as far with Ramona to the point of mixing saliva together, so he wasn't even sure how it'd usually go.

"Yeah, it's cool." You wanted to internally kick yourself for the way you phrased your sentence, but Matthew took it as a good enough answer. He closed his eyes again, almost smashing his face into you. He quickly corrected his mistake by holding your face. You felt a bit enamored by the way he wanted your lips on him again. Your arms wrapping around his neck deepened the kiss, making him push his tongue into your mouth. Matthew's words echoed in your mind as you came to share the same opinion. You were getting too into it, but you had no self-restraint to stop. Soon enough, the real danger of letting the situation get to this point made itself known. You surely felt him stiffen under you. Matthew seemingly didn't even register it until you broke the kiss with a faint huff. His expression looked dazed and thrown out of the rhythm. He looked at you, searching for the reason that made you stop. He found it quite quickly.

He glanced up at your eyes, trying to read what's behind them. Did you think he was a creep? Matthew wanted the earth to swallow him whole. He tried to cover himself up with his hand, but it was so obviously there. All his thoughts kept going back to the fact that he just kissed you, which just made this worse. After you continued digging a hole in his groin due to your astonishment, he furrowed his brows in embarrassment. "Don't stare at me like that!" He avoided your gaze as if you were the Medusa herself.

"Sorry," you finally came to your senses, a bit flushed yourself, "I didn't mean to. The uncomfortable and intense silence stabbed into the both of you, a solid few seconds of a staring contest made you speak again. "...You want me to take care of that?"

Matthew blinked once, staring at you incredulously, trying to find a hint of sarcasm or teasing in your face. "You mean-? I-I can deal with it myself, you know-"

"You... don't want me doing that?" You stopped, feeling a bit unsure upon seeing his reaction. You were someone who genuinely enjoyed spending time with him, he didn't wanna create unnecessary issues in your relationship. Even more so, he didn't want you to think of him as desperate. It was one of the things he hated hearing about himself. He was ambitious, not desperate.

"... What does that mean for us? Like, does that make us a thing? Or is this just... uh... practice?" He pushed himself to voice his concerns, he had to make sure you were on the same page about it.

"Um, what- what do you want it to be?" You got serious for a minute, searching for any indication of hesitation in his eyes.

"That's the thing." He admitted, taking a deep breath. "I- I think I like you. Like a lot." You could almost hear the intensity in which his heart began to beat. The love confession seemed harder to do eloquently with an obvious hard-on, disallowing the moment to remain nonchalant. He wanted you. That was clear.

"Does that make you uncomfortable?" He didn't mean to, but his words came out in a rasped half-whisper.

"...No," You say after a while of processing his words in depth. "I think I kinda, like you too?" Somehow the admission felt as if the weight was lifted off your shoulders. You saw fireworks going off in his eyes, he beamed.

"Well then- I, Matthew Patel, am officially declaring you as my partner!" The sudden change made your eyes crinkle in amusement, you always thought his determination was charming.

The grit in him made you want him even more, pulling the collar of his shirt to kiss him again. He soon reciprocated, putting even more vigor into it. He had already stopped covering himself, choosing to assault your sides with his wandering hands once more. You both knew it was a sudden change of your dynamic, but none of you minded. After a while you broke the kiss, you felt the urge to kiss him all over his dumb face, but your attention was stolen by the sparks appearing around you. He must have seen them too, staring intently at the sight before him.

"Y- You see them too, right??" He asked, completely taken aback. "I... I do," you responded, feeling a dorky expression creeping up your face. "Wow. They're so pretty." He added after a while, making you chuckle. "But- Not as pretty as you," he used this moment to "smoothly" compliment you, causing your smile to turn coy.

"I liked that," you plainly admitted, making him grin proudly. You turned your sight to the previous conversation opener, namely his erection. The brush of your hand over his pants made him shudder, suddenly remembering his neglected urge for friction. He bit his lip as you continued to palm the spot, trying to hide the whimpers that threatened to spill out of his mouth.

You felt much more confident with the situation after you properly expressed your feelings for each other. Matthew closed his eyes, chasing the high you mercifully gifted to him.

"Can I use my mouth on you?" Your bold question made him immediately stare at you with eyes the size of a coin.

"You wanna do that?" He asked, just to be sure he heard you correctly. His reaction definitely caused you to feel too brash about your suggestion, but you continued, "...I kinda wanted to see how it's like."

He fumbled over his words for a bit before agreeing with a simple "Uh, please, do."

"I think we should get up first though, right?" You pointed at the hard floor you were still sitting on. He nodded his head affirmatively, "...Yeah-" You got off of him, fixing your clothes a little. He gratefully accepted your hand when you offered it for support in standing up. You chose to not let go of it, heading straight to your bedroom.

Matthew presence in your room wasn't unusual, he visited you a few times to chat (knocking politely beforehand, of course) when he wanted to spend time with you. In the current circumstance he felt incredibly vulnerable being here, as if he was doing something wrong and pushing your boundaries. But you were the one to lead him there, dragging him into your bed. You sat him down on the edge of it, kneeling on the ground as you parted his legs. He felt exposed with how much spotlight was now thrown at his erection. He couldn't get his eyes off of you, even if he felt embarrassed about his body portraying him to be so needy. The next few moments happened so quickly, yet still excruciatingly slow in comparison to his eagerness.

Your hands unzipped his fly with ease, making the tent in his boxers even more prominent. You gently uncovered the fabric, making him spring out fully. You couldn't deny you were quite shocked by how pent up he was already, it was no secret you were the first person to see him like that. The sweet sensation of your fingers examining his length made him whine at the slightest touch. He didn't want you to hear his pathetic noises, but he had no way of stopping them. You experimentally wrapped your hand around his base, moving it up and down. His fingers grabbed a handful of your bed-covers. With your continued movements, you pressed a light kiss on the top of his tip, hearing his breath stutter from the action. His entire body felt as if it was engulfed in flames with how fired up he was. You liked hearing the pretty sounds leave his mouth, placing a trail of smooches along his shaft. The precum betrayed how much he enjoyed the current situation, if it wasn't already obvious from the array of the held-back whines.

You weren't sure if your skills were anything spectacular, but Matthew paid no mind to it. Not like he had anything to compare you to, fully welcoming the attention. Usually, you'd feel pretty vulnerable doing something like that, but his aura gave you enough confidence to fully express your lust. You could not feel wrong when any amount of affection from you had this man almost whimpering. It was pathetic, but still adorable.

A bold brush of your tongue along his length made his exhales sharper. You tentatively licked the gathered precum, judging the taste. Not like you expected it to taste any different, you thought to yourself - just salty. The consistency threw you off for a second, but it wasn't a dealbreaker. His expression made it worth it. He said nothing, but the redness on his face spoke a thousand words. He found it hot. It was time to finally push him over the edge, you were done toying with him. Your lips wrapped around his tip, mindful to not accidentally graze him with your teeth. A hefty amount of saliva helped you lower yourself down on him. You were not about to choke during this - at least that was your plan - so you decided to take it easy. You lingered at the depth that was comfortable for you, yet still let him feel taken care of. You were too occupied with the current objective to see the hesitation in his movements, until he gently placed a hand on your head.

"You're doing so well..." He reassured you, a coy smile on his face convinced you he was telling the truth. His words made you eager to take more of him into your mouth and you lowered your movements past the half of his erection. It was hard to keep your gag-reflex at bay, but his quivering voice motivated you to keep going further.

"...God-"

He grabbed a fistful of your hair, trying not to pull too hard and disturb your work. You ignored the drool messily trailing down your chin, focused on correct breathing. It was hard not to gasp with a dick up your throat (no pun intended), but somehow you managed to remain calm enough for your nose to get tickled by the exact same black hairs you were avoiding to look at earlier this day. It didn't take long for his breath to get uneven, he was clearly nearing his end. You prepared yourself for the possibility of your throat being flooded pretty soon, speeding up your pace. You felt him hastily push you even deeper, doing your best not to immediately jerk your head back in retaliation. The sweetest moan coming out of his lips was clouded by your urge for oxygen. You quickly tapped his thigh as a desperate plea for air, making him retreat his hand in a hurry.

You coughed, making him look at you with concern and embarrassment. "Are you're alright? Sorry, I didn't mean to push you so hard-" He wiped the remains of his come off your face, trying to fix his mistake. You appreciated the gesture, showing him a calm smile as a form of reassurance. "Don't worry, It's fine."

You got up from your knees, supporting yourself on the bed frame to gift him a soft smooch on his cheek. He touched over the place you kissed with a goofy grin.

"You're such a dork."

[loosesodamarble]

I see you mention Nacht x Finral as a couple a few times and I'm curious of your thoughts of them together?

Well well well! And here I thought my FinNacht thoughts were being shouted into the void, never to be heard or replied to.

Thank you for your curiosity, Anon! I’m more than happy to answer~! 💖

For me, Nacht x Finral has a few factors feeding into it:

My headcanon is that Finral unofficially filled in as vice captain until Nacht’s return. Which would be the start of their personal interactions.

I can see both going “this squad is insane” though Finral says it out of concern while Nacht says it with annoyance. Still, I see them bonding over being more grounded members of the squad.

Nacht and Finral have complementary stories. Elder brothers who are outshined by their younger brothers whom they love despite a rift forming between them. But where Finral was able to save Langris, Nacht is racked with guilt over Morgen’s death. They could probably speak and comfort each other on this topic. Nacht would need a lot more comforting for obvious reasons but I love the idea of Nacht praising Finral for having the courage to reach out to Langris and being successful in saving his brother.

I just really like these two characters and want them to be happy, specifically together.

I can see Nacht and Finral at first mainly interacting as Finral gives Nacht a tour of the base (which isn’t entirely necessary since Nacht had been spying on the squad but maybe they still do the tour as a formality) and teaches him how to complete paperwork.

They’d then grow closer and bond over feeling like the only sane men in a room full of clowns (affectionate). Nacht and Finral do care for the Bulls but, well, friends can still find each other exhausting at times. But if Nacht starts getting too mean in his commentary (which he could still lapse into after his change of heart), Finral would stop him. Finral is gonna defend those he loves, even from other loved ones. Nacht would relent and they’d resume their lighter banter.

As an official couple, Finral would be taking the lead most of the time. He’s more open-hearted and affectionate then Nacht by a mile. Finral is no longer flirting with every other woman he sees. No. All his attention and silly pick-up lines would be reserved for Nacht alone. Nacht would act aloof or even annoyed but he'd be turning bright red because the positive attention warms his frozen heart. Nacht is quietly loving most of the time. He'd always watch out for Finral from the shadows and would sneakily show affection through hidden hand touches and quick smiles that no one else sees. And Nacht gives his coldest glare to anyone who shows Finral disrespect (a.k.a. Ledior and Liliane Vaude). Bold x shy lovers, that vibe.

Of course Nacht could also flaunt the relationship if he wants to annoy his squadmates, because if the Bulls are going to annoy him, then it's fair game for him to annoy the Bulls. Finral doesn't mind much. He'd more be flustered by Nacht taking the lead all of a sudden.

I'm fully aware that I'm making up a lot of this dynamic since the closest we've seen Nacht and Finral interact is when Nacht addresses the Bulls as a group, never one-on-one. But I'm trying to piece together what I know of their personalities and imagining what would come of it. But I honestly do think they'd do well together. Personality-wise. Character arc-wise. Not really appearance-wise since there's not much of a connecting thread in their visuals, but they would make it work.

FinNacht, my wee little ship in the night... In my silly heart, I feel like Nacht and Finral have potential. While I might not talk about it as much as my Nacht x oc ship, FinNacht is still a special ship that I will love and protect.

[junhanndee]

insomnia / junhan

when you just can’t seem to sleep it seems like junhan always has a solution

unedited

warnings : reader has insomnia, uhhh tooth rotting fluff (?), gaon makes an appearance for like 5 secs, reality of insomnia

gn! reader x boyfriend junhan

you could have sworn the last time you checked your phone the time was 11pm but you’re proven wrong as soon as you exhaustedly roll over to read 2 am in big bold white letters.

nights like these were nothing but the usual for you although it was getting increasingly worse. even after trying what you felt like had been every possible answer, the future seemed to offer nothing to abide by.

after checking the time and realizing you weren’t going to get any sleep, you decided maybe junhan would still be awake at the studio. his sleep schedule was definitely something. even after staying up for hours on end he never failed to put a smile on your face. even when he was ready to sleep he would stop at nothing to make sure you would rest right by his side.

reaching for your phone in the seemingly endless dark you quickly sent a text to him.

you : hey… would there be any chance you’re still up?

and sent. hopefully he wasn’t sleeping and had to wake up to get again, another restless night for you.

hyeongjun : hey my love, i’m still awake! i’m in the studio right now. late night for both of us i see…. 😴 what’s got you up so late?

you : just another one of those nights. i even took some melatonin but i can’t seem to sleep…… :(

hyeongjun : wanna swing by the studio? you can spend the night with me if you’d like. the boys won’t mind and they miss you, as usual, anyways

with a rushed ‘yes i’m on my way text’ you stood up to throw on a pair of oversized sweatpants with one of junhans band tees you so secretively stole.

stepping outside there was a light breeze. it reigned cold on your skin and to your surprise, you felt a glimpse of warmth. not physical warmth just the pure feeling of joy that you had somebody like him.

no matter what, junhan was always there for you. even in the beginning of your relationship. he would facetime you or even send you videos of him playing the guitar to possibly fix any possible sleeping issue you had been dealing with.

it wasn’t out of the normal for him to do things like this, but the way he never cared to go out of his way to help you was what always made you warm. regardless if it was the coldest day in december, you could always feel the constant warmth and love junhan always gave you.

making your way to the studio you thought of many things like this. even if it meant you had to walk through a war, if junhan was on the other side, you would make it through.

once you arrived at the studio you had ran into gaon who knew about your insomnia and had often sang or even played some guitar for you to rest in his studio when junhan was just slightly busy.

gaon wished you the best and with a hug you were opening the door to see your lovely boyfriend.

nothing could ever replace the immediate sleepiness you felt when you entered his presence. it was almost as if he was your sleep aid.

“aw, you’re here!!” junhan said while standing up to give you a big warm hug.

seeing you like this was far from easy for him. if he could take it all away from you, even if it meant he had to experience it, he would. seeing you go through all those restless nights and all those early mornings where getting up was such a challenge made him hurt for you and wonder why somebody so precious to him would have to go through such a thing.

when he wraps his arms around you and lightly strums up and down your back, you can already feel your eyes becoming heavy.

“let’s get you in bed okay?” junhan says while cleaning up his studio and grabbing his zip up.

on the way to their dorm you guys talked about all sorts of things. junhan knew you got your energy out by letting loose and talking as much as you pleased. he loved hearing you talk and he loved hearing anything you may have to say about your oh so eventful life. it was beautiful, you were beautiful.

once arriving back to the dorms to see most of the boys already in their rooms and sleeping, it had helped set a mood for you.

after taking off your shoes and lining them up next to junhans, he tells you to wait right there for just a minute.

as you stand there you realize, it was the little things like this that meant the most to you. lining up your shoes next to each other after a long day, debriefing with him when he acted like you were the only person talking even in a room full of people, him holding your hand in a crowded place because he knew you would get overwhelmed, and even down to just being with him. everything meant so much to you, but the little things proved to be the things you loved the most.

junhan comes up to you holding a white soft blanket. wrapping it around you, you can’t help but notice that the blanket is nice and warm.

“i put it in the towel heater for a minute so it would be nice and warm for you” he says while slowly guiding you towards his room.

walking into his room was always something that made you feel so safe. from the familiar white glasses laying on his desk to the guitar in the corner of his room, you loved being surrounded in his presence and being. just in where he is was enough for you.

he starts to make down his bed and motion for you to come cuddle up next to him and you gladly do so.

“do you want me to sing something to you?” he asks while wrapping his arm around you and running his hand through your hair.

“yes please.” you say as your eyes are already feeling more droopy by the minute.

he begins to hum ‘beautiful’ by crush while slowly guiding his hands through your hair.

once he hears your breathing become slightly heavier he can’t help but begin to doze off himself.

and as the night turned into morning, your love for junhan grew stronger and stronger every single day.

[thebluestbluewords]

Evie’s Knife Fun Time

+

Evie is going to die. 

Not from the cold, although if she's being honest with herself, the cold is bad enough tonight. Her tower doesn't have the amenities that one would expect a princess to have, even one living in exile and disrepair like Evie and her mother are. She doesn't have a fireplace in the tower, and although she has the option of sneaking downstairs to curl up in front of the fireplace in the main hall, her mother loathes the reminders of their situation, and absolutely hates it when Evie sneaks out of her room. A proper princess is supposed to stay in place until she is summoned, and sneaking down to rest in front of the fire is fine for a simple handmaiden, but unacceptable for someone like Evie, no matter how cold it is or how drafty her room can be in the winter. 

No, Evie is going to die tonight for a much stupider reason. Somebody is trying to break open her window with a butcher knife, and they're not even doing a good job of it. 

The knife pokes through the gap between the window and the tower wall again. It would be quicker for the person to just smash open the window, murder Evie in cold blood, and be done with the whole thing. It might be the cold, or the hour, or the fact that Evie had been asleep under her nest of blankets before the sound of the knife chipping the ice off her window lock woke her up, but she can't figure out why the person outside isn't just smashing the window and swinging inside to murder her instead of bothering with this whole slow and ominous chipping business. 

It's not one of her crew breaking in to rescue her from the clutches of her mother. She knows it's not, because Carlos was under strict orders to stay home and protect his house tonight, and his mother will do something even worse than letting him freeze if he sneaks out.  Mal is sensitive to the cold, and informed all of them at school that she was going straight home to the hideout to wait out the cold snap in relative comfort and away from her mother. Jay’s the most likely one to sneak out and try and keep her company, but he has lock picks and charm enough to sneak past her mother's halfhearted attempt at a front door trap, and besides, he's staying with Mal tonight. 

So. Not her crew. Probably someone stupid, or desperate, or both.  Likely someone who wants revenge against Evie, or her mother, or maybe both of them. Someone who's not brave enough to attack in broad daylight, but is bold enough to try breaking into her tower on the coldest night of the year. 

Probably someone from school, then. 

Evie's debating the relative merits of a) screaming bloody murder until her mother comes running in with the crossbow, b) picking up the club under her bed so she at least has a shot at bashing the attacker's head in, c) opening the window from the inside and hopefully throwing the attacker down to their doom, or d) putting her head back under the covers and accepting that death by butcher knife might be preferable to death by dealing with her mother at this hour, when the window pops open. 

"I'm s-s-s-sorry," the blurry, dark figure outside stutters. "S-sorry, Evie. Sorry. Don't push me out." 

Evie, who had been fully prepared to take option B, stops. 

“Carlos?” 

“Yeah. S-sorry, Evie. I really am sorry.” 

Evie doesn't feel vindicated, exactly. Princesses aren’t supposed to feel things like that, as a rule, but idiot from school was her top guess at who would be stupid enough to try breaking into her window with a butcher knife, and it doesn’t really matter right now that it’s her idiot, because she’s right and she’s probably not going to get murdered tonight, so. That’s a major win in her books.

However. 

"Why would you use a butcher knife to break into my room?” Evie does not shriek, because she is mature and experienced and also she really, really doesn’t want her mother to catch on. “I was going to push you back out the window! I was going to let you die! My mother would kill us both, again, if she found you in here!" 

He ducks his head. Stars above, Evie could have murdered him and not even known until morning, or possibly even later, if the snow had covered his body quick enough. "I know. That's why I'm sorry. Fuck, why is your room so cold?" 

Evie resists the urge to wrap her arms around herself. She will not act like some common teenager. "I don't have a fire.” she says shortly. “And I was in bed before you so rudely broke into my room. Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, but why are you here? I thought you were supposed to stay home and guard the house tonight?"

"My mom left. Decided it was stupid to stay in town when she has a standing place at the mud springs. She brought Horace and Jasper with her. So I'm alone if I stay there.” Carlos explains. He looks half dead, and honestly, Evie’s more than half surprised that he didn’t freeze on the way up, and shocked he even made it through the walk over. The snow is bad tonight, so bad that she can’t even see more than a few feet outside her tower. Walking through it must have been hellish.  “There's no heat, and I d-d-didn't-- didn't feel like freezing alone tonight. Sorry about the knife. Your window froze shut." 

Carlos is visibly shivering as he fails at working the window closed, which is probably a good thing. At least, as far as Evie can remember, it’s a good thing. The Isle doesn’t usually get this cold, so she hasn’t had a lot of practice with hypothermia before. According to the book she stole from the school library, once the hypothermia sets in, he'll stop shivering, and even though Evie is still upset about the assumed imminent death she was facing a few moments ago, she'd really prefer not to lose her best friend to hypothermia this early in the winter. 

"You're an idiot," Evie says bluntly, sweeping forward to actually close the window. With her functioning hands. Which she has, because she’s not frozen half through from being an idiot and walking through a snowstorm. "If you'd come to the front door, I would have let you come up." 

Read the rest on ao3

[alavestineneas]

King's Will

pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x OFC

summary: In the game of chess, the queen has more freedom on the chessboard. In that sense, the queen is the most powerful piece. On the other hand, the king has more value. Because if you lose the king, you lose the game. 

warnings: arranged marriage, medieval violence, slow burn

chapter 1 -> 2 -> 3 -> 4 -> 5

The chambers were quiet, with only the slow crackling of wood in the chimney disturbing the prince's peace. She was tired of reading; the book, long forgotten, was shyly lying at the edge of the wooden table, covered in rich gold ornaments. The dinner, served no more than a few minutes ago, was already growing cold from the weather outside. The winters in King's Landing weren't as harsh as the northern ones, but they were still too cold for a daughter of Highgarden's summers. The evenings were the coldest, and she usually spent them alone.

Her royal husband was nowhere to be found; the servants lowered their eyes to the ground each time Marcella dared to ask where he was. Sometimes she caught a glimpse of what looked like a golden star in the sky above or saw him during long audiences with the Queen. But more usual, she saw him in their shared chambers, drunk out of his mind and already asleep. He reeked of alcohol and beasts, more often than not covered in dirt and ash. She never asked, and he never told. They rarely talked at all.

When he did manage to stand on his own, they took care of the marriage duty. Marcella grew nauseous even after thinking of it. It was the worst thing about marrying a prince.

The door opened with a loud bang, revealing Prince Aegon in all his might. He was wearing those weird clothes again—something torn and dirty. It looked like he robbed some beggars near the castle before coming in, and he smelled the same.

''Come on!'' he exclaims, opening his arms as if for a hug. ''Don't be shy; we are married, remember?''

There is not much she can say; the easiest way out is to let him do what he wants. So, Marcella bites her cheek when his sloppy kisses travel down her neck and keeps her mouth shut when he takes off her nightgown. It's awful, almost humiliating, to hear his breath quicken. To feel him inside. She smiles when it's finally over, and he plants the last, tired kiss on her head before getting under the covers. Marcella knows better than to disturb her husband's sleep; instead, she cries silently, mindful of staining his pillow with tears.

A soft knocking is heard, and Marcella has to snap out of her trance, gathering the tears building in her eyes with a cloth. It's a servant, one of the many she sees running down the halls every morning. She had brought more wood to keep the fire alive.

Marcella takes her time studying the woman in front of the fireplace. She sits straight, her face somewhere else. She has beautiful hair, Tyrell notes to herself; her fair locks escaped the grey cap, landing right onto her warm, tanned face. The woman is older than her, perhaps by a decade. Marcella's eyes wander to the servant's hands, noticing the calluses and roughness that come from hard work. Despite her worn appearance, there is a certain grace and elegance in the way she carries herself—a silent strength that intrigues Marcella. 

''You weren't always a servant, were you?'' Marcella speaks, careful not to startle the woman. She doesn't answer right away, confirming Tyrell's guess—no servant would allow herself such boldness.

''I wasn't, my lady, she agrees, her voice deep. ''Although it is who I am now.''

Marcella's lips curve into something reminiscent of a smile. She watches the woman gather the untouched dinner, whipping the table with a used cloth. The hem of her dress catches Marcella's eye; it's embroidered with simple, cheap threads with such craftsmanship it takes her breath away. 

''Did you make it?'' she can't help but ask, despite the woman's wry face. The servant stops, throwing a stern look at the girl in front of her.

''Princess, I am sorry, but I can't both clean and answer your questions. '' 

Marcella's curiosity gets the best of her as she persists, "Please, just a quick answer. I've never seen such beautiful embroidery before." 

The servant hesitates for a moment, her stern expression softening slightly. "Yes, Your Highness, I did make it," she replies with a hint of pride in her voice before returning to her cleaning duties. 

''What's your name?'' Marcella asks again; her tone is more commanding than questioning.

 ''Catryn.'' 

Marcella's eyes widen with intrigue as she takes in Catryn's response. "Tell me, Catryn, how did you acquire such exceptional skill in embroidery?" 

The servant's eyes flickered with pride for a second. ''I used to work as a seamstress for one noble lady.''

''Why are you here then? Were you bad?'' Marcella's question hangs in the air, filled with curiosity and a touch of judgment. 

The woman scoffs, clearly offended. ''I was one of the best! She thought I had stolen one of her rings and fired me with a stink.'' "But I swear on my life, I would never steal from anyone," Catryn declares with a hint of defiance. ''She found it a few days later; it was under her bed. But nobody likes admitting they were wrong.'' 

Tyrell nods in understanding. Suddenly, the idea appeared in her head. ''Catryn, do you know the Highgarden's cut?'' 

Catryn raises an eyebrow, intrigued by the sudden change in topic. "Yes, I do," she responds cautiously. "Why do you ask?"  

''I want you to consider a proposition," Tyrell says, leaning in closer. "Resaw one of my dresses, so I can see what you can really do. If I like it, the position of the princess's seamstress is yours." 

The woman's eyes sparkled. ''I'll have it done by tomorrow, my lady.''

''Good.'' Tyrell nods, a small smile playing on her lips. "If you impress me, you'll have the opportunity to work on some of the most exquisite garments in all of Westeros." 

-

Just as Catryn promised, the dress was ready in the morning. The gown was dark blue, the shade of the tantalizing sea. Fabric intertwined with ivory silk and pale, poetic pearls. It was exquisite. Once a gift a few sizes too small, it now fits her like a glove. 

The Queen has invited Marcella for afternoon tea today, an event that wasn't as harmless as it sounded. Marcella learned that rather quickly—the court was a complicated, dark place, and she was still an outsider there. Hundreds of things happened every day; small allies were formed and broken. It may have seemed unimportant to an untrained eye, but those things had a big impact on bigger decisions. And while lords and knights made their decisions in big studies filled with arguing, their wives and daughters made them in the gardens and solars.

This is why Marcella was so careful in choosing her attire, jewellery, and even hairstyle. It all conveyed a hidden, deeper meaning to her alliances and showed her intentions. Those rooms were a battlefield; the Queen's ladies-in-waiting, much like hawks, picked her apart. Although Marcella did not mind it, she too would have been cautious about the new lady in court.

As she entered the room, a few gasps filled the air. Marcella smiled to herself; it was just what she intended to do. As the Queen's ladies gathered around her, vying with each other while asking countless questions about the gown, Marcella caught Queen Alicent's gaze. She couldn't make out whether she was angry with her or not; her eyes were dark and calm. 

''My Queen.'' Marcella curtseyed. The ladies fell silent, waiting for the queen's response. 

''Come.'' Alicent gestured at the empty stool beside her, usually secured for her daughter. Marcella smiled and accepted the seat, noticing a few shared glances from the corner of her eye. She still has much work to do, but it was definitely a step on the right path. 

After the audience was over, Marcella took a piece of paper and ink. She intended to write about her successes in court to her father.

-

Her father's response came in a few days—Sir Ywain handled her a properly sealed letter, mindful of curious eyes. There wasn't anything scandalous or improper in those letters, but it was always better to be safe than sorry—Lord Tyrell had rather a liking for stingy descriptions. 

''Thank you,'' Marcella smiled.

Sir Ywain only nodded before returning to standing guard. The library was an unlikable scene for an attack, but he has seen far too many things to exclude such a possibility. He watched as Marcella's face grew sadder with each word, before she finally lifted her head, calling him to come closer.

''Here,'' she pointed at the last paragraph, resting against the chair. ''Read.''

''And lastly,'' started the knight, ''I want to remind you, daughter, of the importance of heirs in the life of the Realm. It is a responsibility that cannot be taken lightly, as your position in court is uncertain until you give birth to an heir. Until then, I shall not read any of your letters so as not to divert your attention. Remember: We will be grateful to flowers only if they have born fruit." The knight looked at the sea in the distance. Ywain was a man crafted in battle, sure. Nevertheless, he was not inhumane. What was this girl? Seventeen summers? A small, lonesome kid. 

''You should return to your chambers, my Lady. It is getting nearer to darkness.''

''Is it already?'' Marcella slowly stood up, her steps light and melancholy. She wanted to add something but quickly changed her disordered mind. She glanced back at the knight, whose stern expression was softened by a hint of concern. With a sigh, she turned and made her way back to the chambers.

Sir Ywain followed her on the way out. He walked a few steps behind, keeping a respectful distance. The weight of his armour seemed to match the heaviness in his heart as he watched the young girl retreat into the darkness of the castle. His job was to protect her, but the only danger she faced was the one he was not fit to fight with—her dear Prince.

-

''What is heard in those walls?'' Marcella asked, finishing her apple.

Catryn was working on yet another new gown for her. Even after a few months, there was still something for her to do, whether it was sewing, embroidering, or patching up the old dresses. Marcella made sure she was free from all of the other duties; now, she had her own room for working and resting. 

Marcella spent a lot of her time here if she wasn't with the Queen or the younger Princess. It was pleasant having someone to talk to, especially seeing that Catryn knew a lot about life in the castle. Gossip was much like a fire; once it started, there was no way of putting it out. 

For the most part, the court told stories about her father; their gold was an especially popular matter here. Much like her husband and his famous trips to the Road of Silk. He wasn't discreet with it either, rubbing his indifference in the devout faces of the King's people. Marcella wasn't naive enough to believe that this would stop with their marriage, but feeling the pitying gazes of older women on her back was getting on her nerves. 

This, and her father's letter made it clear that something had to change. She can't change her husband, and she definitely couldn't change his swaying nature; still, there had to be something.

''Prince Aegon is still seen in the city twice a week,'' Catryn started, not looking up from her work. ''However, there is only one face he frequents. Rumours have been circulating that he has taken a mistress.'' 

Marcella hummed thoughtfully, her mind racing with possibilities. If Prince Aegon had indeed taken a mistress, it could make her position in court even more unstable, just as her father predicted. 

''I want to know her name.''  

-

The loud chatter and laughter got on his nerves today. The air in the tavern was thick, polluted with all kinds of aromas; here, most of the drunken sailors, merchants and workers spent all their hard-earned or not-so coins. It was also quite popular with the knights, a few of which their sleep was found right on their plates. Ywain chuckled. Those people were just the right fit to serve their Prince.

Was he? The order seemed quite clear: find the Prince's whore. He accepted, of course; the little lady wouldn't stop until she got what she wanted, and if this request got in the wrong ears, both of them would lose their heads. It was risky business, but Ywain was no stranger to danger. In Lord Tyrell's words, ''let the child play''. 

''Good day to you, handsome,'' the man in a bright red shirt sang, placing a mug of wine in front of his face. ''Finally remembered about your friend?'' 

''Not now, Rowan.'' Ywain shook his head. ''Sit with me.''

The man called Rowan rolled his eyes before taking a seat across from the knight. He was attractive—the type of beauty you rarely see in men. He was dornish; dark, long hair almost hit his chest, hiding under colourful textiles. He wore bronze: rings, earrings, and necklaces shone on his brown skin even under dim candelabras. If more, they added to his charm. ''So, tell me. What is of such importance that you left your watch?''

Ywain sighed, choosing to ignore the mocking in the man's voice. ''I am looking for some whore named Fox.''

The eyebrows on Rowan's face shot up. ''Our mighty knight looks for a whore?'' he asks. ''Became a woman-lover overnight?'' 

Ywain's face flushed with annoyance, but he maintained his composure. "I have my reasons for seeking her out," he replied curtly. "It is not what you think it is." 

Rowan huffed in amusement. ''It better not be. I wouldn't want to lose my best lover to some whore, would I?'' He watched Ywain's eyes darken with lust as he leaned in closer. "But if you're looking for a good time, I can always introduce you to someone more... experienced." 

''Stop the jesting, Rowan. It's a serious matter.'' Ywain's voice held a hint of frustration as he tried to steer the conversation back to the topic at hand. "I need your help in finding her, not your suggestions for distractions." 

''I'll see what I can do. Finding someone who doesn't want to be found is no easy task." Rowan's face still displayed a mischievous smirk, but his eyes grew serious. ''Don't do anything stupid, Ywain.''

''It seems to be my job these days,'' Ywain shrugged. ''Here,'' he said, placing a few golden coins on the table. ''For wine,'' he said, sliding them towards Rowan. "And for a room." 

Rowan grinned, the playful glimmer in his eyes returning. ''I'll join you in a minute, handsome. Just need to finish up a few things here." He winked at Ywain before turning to attend to his tasks. There were no lords in Flea Bottom. Money was the master here, and money was the butcher.

[ritzcrackee]

april tbr post yayy

rereads are marked by a ☆, new reads are marked by a ♡, and new acquisitions are bolded

physical tbr: 20

what moves the dead - t. kingfisher ♡

an education in malice - s. t. gibson ♡

juilet takes a breath - gabby rivera ♡

stories of people and civilization, greek ancient origins - lindsay powell, j. k. jackson ♡

rebel girls - elizabeth keenan ♡

the silent stars go by - dan abbet ♡

touched by an angel - johnathan morris ♡

dracula - bram stoker ♡

dune - frank herbert ♡

dune messiah - frank herbert ♡

frankenstein - mary shelley ♡

sense and sensibility - jane austen ♡

hippie - barry miles ♡

evernight - claudia gray ☆

stargazer - claudia gray ♡

the handmaids tale - margaret atwood ☆

the testaments - margaret atwood ♡

aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the

universe - benjamin alire sáenz ☆

would-be witch - kimberly frost ☆

the ballad of songbirds and snakes - suzanne collins ☆

digital tbr: 2

pandora's jar: women in the greek myths - natalie haynes ♡

wild is the witch - rachel griffin ♡

read: 7

a million kisses in your lifetime - monica murphy - dnf

i got like 80 pages in and then just,,, could not continue. no shade if u liked this book it was just solidly, solidly not my thing.

my monster valentine - various authors - 3/5

debated putting this on here for obvious reasons but i neeeeed to be accurate i guess. i only read about half of the stories in this collection and they were pretty hit or miss. it was free though so yk. vibes.

high spirits - camille gomera-tavarez - 2.5/5

this book was pretty alright! i don't have much to say about it (hence the middling rating) but i would reccomend it if you're looking for a fast read :D

the coldest touch - isabel sterling - 4/5

THIS WAS SO CUUUUTTTTTEEEEE!!! i liked the way the author portrayed the genuine hell that being stuck at 17 would be. please get me out of here i want a fully developed frontal lobe. AW and all of the characters were super likable. truly so adorable i was squealing the whole time.

im knocking a point off for the romance being a littttllllleeeee rushed and the character descriptions feeling off (it felt odd that both pov characters categorized every single person into a specific race? i think its good practice to make a characters race clear, but idk if that applies to a random teacher with no dialogue). to be so real though i loved this book enough that it didn't bother me too much.

beastly & bookish - catrina bell - 5/5

did i finish this book in one sitting? yes. did i stay up until 1am doing that? ...mind your business. honestly, im maybeee being a little bit generous giving this 5 stars but !! i really liked it!!! rom was soo mecore. i'm excited to read the rest of the books in this collection (even though they're all christmasy), and i can't wait for my physical copy to get here!!

holly's unjolly christmas - lark green - 2/5

this book was truly just fine. like, the definition of pretty alright. the tropes weren't my thing and the romance felt wildly rushed, but the writing style was easy to read and there were some funny bits. i also felt like the demon characters fell pretty flat? idk felt mid overall. (tbh the highlights of this book were when rom and noelle showed up. my babiesssss)

holidays ablaze - lucy limon - 3/5

v cute 👍 i love samite he's so autistic 💗

last months goal: finish dune

hmm ok. so i did not finish dune. i don't know why i thought i could. whatever possessed me to believe i could finish an 800 page sci-fi book in one month was truly of the devil herself. what the fuck. that was a blatant temptation towards hubris and I FELL FOR IT. anyways i hit 300 pages. everyone clap.

this months goal: finish a re-read

i have a lot of books i'd like to re-read but!!! i just never get around to it!!!! there r always newer shinier books that grab my attention!! i'd also like to carve away a more sizable chunk of my physical tbr this month because i have officially run out of space on my bookshelf TwT. everything is so so crammed in there, i truly cannot afford any more physical books. public library here i come!!

[xtruss]

What Happened When a Fearless Group of Mississippi Sharecroppers Founded Their Own City

Strike City was born after one small community left the plantation to live on their own terms

— September 11, 2023 | NOVA—BPS

A tin sign demarcated the boundary of Strike City just outside Leland, Mississippi. Photo by Charlie Steiner

In 1965 in the Mississippi Delta, things were not all that different than they had been 100 years earlier. Cotton was still King—and somebody needed to pick it. After the abolition of slavery, much of the labor for the region’s cotton economy was provided by Black sharecroppers, who were not technically enslaved, but operated in much the same way: working the fields of white plantation owners for essentially no profit. To make matters worse, by 1965, mechanized agriculture began to push sharecroppers out of what little employment they had. Many in the Delta had reached their breaking point.

In April of that year, following months of organizing, 45 local farm workers founded the Mississippi Freedom Labor Union. The MFLU’s platform included demands for a minimum wage, eight-hour workdays, medical coverage and an end to plantation work for children under the age of 16, whose educations were severely compromised by the sharecropping system. Within weeks of its founding, strikes under the MFLU banner began to spread across the Delta.

Five miles outside the small town of Leland, Mississippi, a group of Black Tenant Farmers led by John Henry Sylvester voted to go on strike. Sylvester, a tractor driver and mechanic at the A.L. Andrews Plantation, wanted fair treatment and prospects for a better future for his family. “I don’t want my children to grow up dumb like I did,” he told a reporter, with characteristic humility. In fact it was Sylvester’s organizational prowess and vision that gave the strikers direction and resolve. They would need both. The Andrews workers were immediately evicted from their homes. Undeterred, they moved their families to a local building owned by a Baptist Educational Association, but were eventually evicted there as well.

After two months of striking, and now facing homelessness for a second time, the strikers made a bold move. With just 13 donated tents, the strikers bought five acres of land from a local Black Farmer and decided that they would remain there, on strike, for as long as it took. Strike City was born. Frank Smith was a Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee worker when he went to live with the strikers just outside Leland. “They wanted to stay within eyesight of the plantation,” said Smith, now Executive Director of the African American Civil War Memorial and Museum in Washington, D.C. “They were not scared.”

Life in Strike City was difficult. Not only did the strikers have to deal with one of Missississippi’s coldest winters in history, they also had to endure the periodic gunshots fired by white agitators over their tents at night. Yet the strikers were determined. “We ain’t going out of the state of Mississippi. We gonna stay right here, fighting for what is ours,” one of them told a documentary film team, who captured the strikers’ daily experience in a short film called “Strike City.�� “We decided we wouldn’t run,” another assented. “If we run now, we always will be running.”

But the strikers knew that if their city was going to survive, they would need more resources. In an effort to secure federal grants from the federal government’s Office of Economic Opportunity, the strikers, led by Sylvester and Smith, journeyed all the way to Washington D.C. “We’re here because Washington seems to run on a different schedule,” Smith told congressmen, stressing the urgency of the situation and the group’s needs for funds. “We have to get started right away. When you live in a tent and people shoot at you at night and your kids can’t take a bath and your wife has no privacy, a month can be a long time, even a day…Kids can’t grow up in Strike City and have any kind of a chance.” In a symbolic demonstration of their plight, the strikers set up a row of tents across the street from the White House.

John Henry Sylvester, left, stands outside one of the tents strikers erected in Washington, D.C. in April 1966. Photo by Rowland Sherman

“It was a good, dramatic, in-your-face presentation,” Smith told American Experience, nearly 60 years after the strikers camped out. “It didn’t do much to shake anything out of the Congress of the United States or the President and his Cabinet. But it gave us a feeling that we’d done something to help ourselves.” The protestors returned home empty-handed. Nevertheless, the residents of Strike City had secured enough funds from a Chicago-based organization to begin the construction of permanent brick homes; and to provide local Black children with a literacy program, which was held in a wood-and-cinder-block community center they erected.

The long-term sustainability of Strike City, however, depended on the creation of a self-sufficient economy. Early on, Strike City residents had earned money by handcrafting nativity scenes, but this proved inadequate. Soon, Strike City residents were planning on constructing a brick factory that would provide employment and building material for the settlement’s expansion. But the $25,000 price tag of the project proved to be too much, and with no employment, many strikers began to drift away. Strike City never recovered.

Still, its direct impact was apparent when, in 1965, Mississippi schools reluctantly complied with the 1964 Civil Rights Act by offering a freedom-of-choice period in which children were purportedly allowed to register at any school of their choice. In reality, however, most Black parents were too afraid to send their children to all-white schools—except for the parents living at Strike City who had already radically declared their independence . Once Leland’s public schools were legally open to them, Strike City kids were the first ones to register. Their parents’ determination to give them a better life had already begun to pay dividends.

Smith recalled driving Strike City’s children to their first day of school in the fall of 1970. “I remember when I dropped them off, they jumped out and ran in, and I said, ‘They don't have a clue what they were getting themselves into.’ But you know kids are innocent and they’re always braver than we think they are. And they went in there like it was their schoolhouse. Like they belonged there like everybody else.”

[trapangeles]

Ohh Chanel Takes Over with Her New Performance Rap Video “IZUMAD”

Los Angeles-based female rap artist Ohh Chanel is making waves in the industry with her latest release, IZUMAD. The music video, shot by renowned director OffAir, was filmed on a luxurious yacht and features a high-energy atmosphere full of bikinis, twerking, and boss vibes. The bold visuals of the IZUMAD video were deemed too graphic for mainstream platforms like YouTube, so the video made its exclusive debut on OnlyFans and the trapLA website, bringing even more attention to this rising rap star.

Behind the Song: "IZUMAD" by Ohh Chanel

In IZUMAD, Ohh Chanel doesn’t hold back. She blends catchy hooks with confident lyrics, delivering a powerful anthem for independent women. The song's chorus is bold, highlighting her unapologetic attitude:

“Izumad, izumad, izumad cuz I'm bad, bitches sad, get a bag.”

These lyrics embody Ohh Chanel’s no-nonsense persona. With lines like:

“Is your rent paid? Is your car good? Is your baby daddy whoopin' your ass all through your hood?”

Ohh Chanel challenges her audience to level up in life, while also throwing in cheeky lines like:

“He be grabbin' this lil ass, lyin' saying it’s fat.”

Her braggadocio continues as she raps about her lifestyle:

“2 doors, riding in a foreign, it’s never boring” and “I'm the coldest in the city, ain't nobody f**in' with me.”*

This lyrical confidence sets Ohh Chanel apart from other artists, positioning her as one of the fiercest female rappers in L.A.’s hip-hop scene.

The Visuals: A Yacht Party Like No Other

The music video for IZUMAD features Ohh Chanel in a chic two-piece Chanel bikini, performing while surrounded by women in swimwear who are dancing, twerking, and living it up. The yacht setting, combined with the bold energy of the performance, creates an over-the-top, glamorous vibe that perfectly complements the track’s attitude. While the visuals were too graphic for YouTube, they fit perfectly within the private realms of OnlyFans and trapLA’s exclusive content offerings.

trapLAxRadio Exclusive

The release of IZUMAD is not only limited to the video—it’s also made its way into trapLAxRadio’s rotation. As L.A.'s largest indie rap platform, trapLAxRadio is now giving this track exclusive airtime. Ohh Chanel’s growing influence in the rap community is undeniable, and her collaboration with platforms like trapLA and trapLAxRadio continues to elevate her status.

Why “IZUMAD” is a Must-Listen

Ohh Chanel’s IZUMAD is more than just a catchy track; it’s a statement. Her lyrics, combined with the high-energy visuals, make this song a celebration of success and self-empowerment. Here are five reasons why you need to check out IZUMAD today:

Bold, Fearless Lyrics: Ohh Chanel keeps it real, delivering raw lines that resonate with her audience.

Unapologetic Confidence: The song is a testament to her self-assured attitude.

Visuals with Impact: Filmed on a yacht, the video adds a layer of luxury and energy to the track.

Exclusive Content: You can only watch this video on OnlyFans and trapLA, making it a special release for loyal fans.

trapLAxRadio Rotation: The song is now playing exclusively on trapLAxRadio, a platform dedicated to spotlighting indie rap talent.

Conclusion

Ohh Chanel’s IZUMAD is a standout in the L.A. rap scene, bringing together bold lyrics, eye-catching visuals, and an unforgettable energy. With the video dropping exclusively on OnlyFans and trapLA’s website, along with the song now playing on trapLAxRadio, Ohh Chanel is making sure her presence is felt. Whether you’re vibing to her lyrics or tuning into her exclusive content, IZUMAD is a must-listen for fans of authentic, no-holds-barred rap.

Have you been spending all your money and time on making music and shooting videos, but still not getting any exposure? Tired of just spinning your wheels? You know to get exposure you need to get featured on blogs, radio stations, playlist, and get your music e-mail blasted out to the masses. Need help getting all that done? Then check out the Package we’ve made available for you below!

Like & Listen To Our Spotify Playlist

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The Latest Music, Videos, News, Entertainment……

[thistlethot]

Blooming Under the Stars: Uncovering Your Floral Zodiac Guide

Have you ever looked up at the vast night sky, felt the prickle of cosmic connection, and thought, "I wonder what flower best embodies my starlit spirit?" If so, you're not alone. The language of the stars intertwines beautifully with the whispers of the floral world, creating a fascinating tapestry of self-discovery through astrology and its blooming companions.

In this celestial bouquet of a blog, we'll delve into the vibrant connection between each zodiac sign and its corresponding flower. Let's unveil the petals of your personality, one fragrant bloom at a time!

Aries, Taurus, Gemini

Aries (March 21 – April 19): Bold and daring, the ram charges through life with the fiery passion of a red tulip. Their impulsive nature thrives on fresh starts and new adventures, just like the spring bloom they call their own.

Taurus (April 20 – May 20): Sensual and grounded, the bull craves beauty and indulgence. The velvety luxury of a peony perfectly reflects their love for all things decadent. Just like the peony's slow and steady bloom, Taureans appreciate savoring the moment and taking life at their own pace.

Gemini (May 21 – June 20): Mercurial and witty, the twins flit from one thought to the next like butterflies in a field of lavender. Their adaptability and thirst for knowledge align with this fragrant herb's calming yet stimulating essence. Lavender reminds them to find peace amidst the whirlwind of their curious minds.

Cancer, Leo, Virgo

Cancer (June 21 – July 22): Nurturing and intuitive, the crab finds solace in the delicate embrace of a white rose. Their deep emotions find resonance in the rose's soft petals and romantic symbolism. Cancers cherish their loved ones like precious blooms, offering comfort and tenderness with an open heart.

Leo (July 23 – August 22): Radiant and confident, the lion roars with the vibrant exuberance of a sunflower. Their charisma and warmth draw people in like bees to a field of gold. Leos embrace the sunflower's regal bearing and optimistic spirit, lighting up every room they enter.

Virgo (August 23 – September 22): Analytical and meticulous, the maiden seeks perfection in every detail. The humble beauty of a forget-me-not reflects their practical nature and dedication to service. Virgos find satisfaction in tending to their loved ones like these tiny blue blossoms, reminding them of the power of small gestures.

Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius

Libra (September 23 – October 22): Diplomatically charming, the scales find balance in the harmonious elegance of an orchid. Their quest for love and justice mirrors the orchid's delicate grace and captivating allure. Libras strive to create harmony in their world, nurturing beauty and balance wherever they go.

Scorpio (October 23 – November 21): Intense and passionate, the scorpion hides a secret garden of emotions beneath a calm exterior. The rich, velvety depths of a red dahlia embody their enigmatic spirit. Scorpios possess a captivating aura, drawing people in with their magnetic charm and hidden depths.

Sagittarius (November 22 – December 21): Adventurous and optimistic, the archer seeks freedom and knowledge in the open skies. The bright cheerfulness of a sunflower captures their adventurous spirit and boundless enthusiasm. Sagittarians always look towards the horizon, ready to embrace new experiences with a smile.

Capricorn, Aquarius, Pisces

Capricorn (December 22 – January 19): Ambitious and determined, the mountain goat climbs towards their goals with unwavering focus. The delicate strength of a snowdrop reflects their quiet resilience and ability to thrive in harsh conditions. Capricorns bloom even in the coldest winters, reminding us that perseverance and dedication can make any dream blossom.

Aquarius (January 20 – February 18): Rebellious and visionary, the water bearer dreams of a future filled with innovation and progress. The quirky charm of an iris mirrors their unique perspective and independent spirit. Like the iris's vibrant purple hues, Aquarians challenge the norm and pave their own path, inspiring others to embrace individuality.

Pisces (February 19 – March 20): Empathetic and dreamy, the fish swims through a world of emotions and imagination. The gentle beauty of a water lily perfectly captures their sensitive nature and artistic soul. Pisces seek solace in the depths of emotion, finding inspiration and connection in the unseen realms.

Blooming Your Way: Embracing Your Floral Essence

Discovering your zodiac flower is just the beginning of your floral journey. Explore the colours, scents, and meanings associated with your bloom. Whether you're celebrating a birthday, sending a heartfelt message, or simply wishing to infuse your home with the energy of your zodiac sign, a vibrant flower delivery Brisbane service can help you bring your astrological intentions to life. Choose a local florist who understands the language of flowers and the magic of celestial alignment. They can craft a personalized bouquet that resonates with your unique zodiac sign, sending a message of love, support, and cosmic harmony.

[equitydrive]

Resin Driveway Enfield: Elevate Your Home's Aesthetics

Introduction

Welcome to the world of possibilities with resin driveways in Enfield. If you're seeking to enhance your home's curb appeal, durability, and overall aesthetic, you've landed in the right place. In this comprehensive guide, we will delve into the diverse aspects of resin driveways in Enfield, covering everything from installation to maintenance.

Resin Driveway Enfield: Unraveling the Beauty Beneath Your Wheels

What Sets Resin Driveways Apart?

Explore the unique features that make resin driveways in Enfield stand out. From their seamless finish to customizable designs, discover why they're the preferred choice for homeowners looking to make a statement.

Choosing the Right Resin for Your Driveway

Not all resins are created equal. Delve into the world of resin types, understanding which one suits your Enfield driveway the best. From UV stability to color options, make an informed decision for a driveway that stands the test of time.

The Installation Process Demystified

Embark on a journey through the installation process of your resin driveway. Learn about the meticulous steps, the role of professionals, and the timeframe involved. Your Enfield home is about to undergo a transformative makeover.

Resin Driveway Enfield: Bringing Elegance Home

Resin vs. Traditional Driveways

Uncover the advantages of choosing a resin driveway over traditional options. From longevity to environmental impact, witness why Enfield homeowners are opting for this modern and sustainable choice.

Maintenance Tips for a Timeless Appeal

Maintaining the allure of your Enfield resin driveway is simpler than you think. Get insider tips on cleaning, repairs, and preservation, ensuring your investment remains a breathtaking focal point for years to come.

Enhancing Safety: Anti-Slip Additives

Safety meets style. Dive into the realm of anti-slip additives for your resin driveway. Discover how Enfield residents can enjoy a secure surface without compromising on the aesthetics of their outdoor space.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

Q: Are Resin Driveways Suitable for Harsh Enfield Winters?

A: Fear not, Enfield residents! Resin driveways are designed to withstand extreme weather conditions, providing a durable and reliable surface even during the coldest months.

Q: Can I Customize the Color of My Resin Driveway in Enfield?

A: Absolutely! Personalize your Enfield driveway with a spectrum of colors. From earthy tones to bold hues, express your style through a bespoke resin driveway.

Q: How Long Does the Installation of a Resin Driveway in Enfield Take?

A: Patience is a virtue, and a stunning driveway is worth the wait. Understand the timeline of Enfield resin driveway installation and prepare to welcome a transformative change.

Q: Is Resin Driveway Maintenance Time-Consuming for Enfield Homeowners?

A: Not at all. Discover hassle-free maintenance routines tailored for Enfield homeowners. A pristine driveway is within reach with minimal effort.

Q: Do Resin Driveways in Enfield Fade Over Time?

A: Explore the UV stability of resin driveways, ensuring your Enfield driveway maintains its vibrant appearance throughout the seasons.

Q: Can I Install a Resin Driveway in Enfield Myself?

A: While it's possible, we recommend entrusting Enfield professionals for a flawless installation. Dive into the intricacies of DIY vs. professional installation.

Conclusion

In conclusion, a resin driveway in Enfield is more than just a functional space; it's an investment in the beauty and longevity of your home. Embrace the modern allure, enjoy the seamless installation process, and revel in the effortless maintenance.

[storiesaboutrachelcarolann]

Are you wondering what peace is? Are you wondering if it can be felt? Are you wondering if we can see it? Can we touch it and wrap our arms around it? I have been trying to answer those very questions myself lately. It's not something we can accomplish or fulfill overnight it takes years and even beyond that honestly to even grasp a little bit of the notion if our experiences have led us to believe peace isn't attainable.

Peace is freedom from disturbance; tranquility. Tranquility is the quality or state of being tranquil; calm. Oh, what joy that would be if we could all remain calm each and every day. Life has been all over the place, especially in the last few years. Disaster has struck in most of our lives.

This may seem a little off track, but go grab your Bible and turn to Revelations. Read it from start to finish. Sure there are different versions of the Bible rewritten over time with slant variances to what some scriptures translate to mean given the original text was in a different language. Yet, the text that is written in that chapter is very apparent to what is happening on this earth in this present time. I am not trying to scare you, but if this testament is true then God is coming sooner than you and I may think or be ready for. What does that mean you should do? You guessed it.. seek peace.

How can we as a collective work together to attain and restore peace? For most of us this is all we have ever desired in life. I am now discovering that if I can manage to keep my faith and belief strong in God/Source/Spirit and understand the power that is held by God, then I can and will accomplish everything that I ever set out to succeed in for the rest of my life by keeping him with me. Time is short here on this earthly plane, we all know this to be true. There never seems to be enough time in one day. Yet, I feel we can extend that time with personal achievement. We can make each day have more value if we can remain close to Spirit by listening, feeling, thinking, or doing whatever it is you have to do next that manifests good things, like peace and love.

I have found that since I opened up the way I used to look at different situations in life, that those different perspectives have allowed me to see more truths. Not a one sided or narrow view that we can easily maintain if we don't step out of our comfort zone. We each have a different way of viewing the world and others as well as our own way of explaining. In our perspective nothing is false it is all true, but is it?

In my opinion, if you're finding yourself in what feels like catastrophic tower-like moments, then perhaps that is a bold sign you need to change something in your life or your perspectives and you aren't listening to God/Source/Spirit. It is very likely a sign that you will need to remove yourself from a distorted sense of reality if you really want anything to change in the near future.

If you need to take a step back or take time to yourself to gain a new perspective don't be afraid to ask for protection and guidance. You will be amazed at what comes forth. You are protected and may not even realize it. You have a protective shell. In other words each of have a shell or shield that is made of iron, when we ask for protection and guidance nothing that is bad for us will penetrate it. You will be safe. You will find comfort and warmth from the coldest storms in that shell or shield. It has to be your will though..it is never forced. We were given free will to make up our own mind on the path we choose here and beyond.

While we are in what feels like darkness we learn how to change and transform the darkness into light. We are provided tools. Powerful tools. We learn to appreciate all the battles and challenges that have been formed thus far on our journey. We owe them thanks really. If they hadn't of happened you wouldn't have looked for a new perspective that provided a soft place to fall or protection from the next storm. I know it feels lonely and isolating sometimes and this causes anxiety and worry. That's normal when we have fear. Remember in order to find the peace you're looking for it's important for you to seek love and understanding, its important to not fear. Seek and you shall find. I promise.

Being in the comfort of my own shell and forced by injury has asked me to pause and pace myself it's really allowed me as an individual to narrow in on the parts of myself that have been damaged, so I can fix them piece by piece and not ignore them any longer. I know my journey towards peace; tranquility is not done yet and it likely never will be fully finished, but that's okay. I am not afraid to put in the work that'll allow me to connect spiritually with our savior (God), so I am able to continue to learn what peace is all about.

Peace to me is a feeling of wholeness so far, that might change a little bit as I continue towards embracing myself. I love allowing light into any darkness I face. It's amazing to really see how protected we are. Darkness will not go where there's light. Light (peace) drives out the darkness, the black fog and replaces it with better days ahead.

You can have better! A better sense of peace and strength to face whatever storm comes. Believe in yourself and trust you're never really alone. Often I wonder what is it that has got me so far along this journey. A path towards fullness, contentment, freedom of my mind, my heart, my soul; all of me. I know now it is the ability to do what's being asked of me and to never give up when it's extremely difficult. We are never given something we can't handle and yes there are times it gets harder before it gets better. How else do we learn what really matters and what we are really made of if we never faced an Earthly or Spiritual battle?

Rachel Smith

The Coastline Intuitive

The Empress

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hello hello!

May I have a Cult of the Lamb fluff headcanons/scenario with skrunkle Lambert? Maybe a pining follower!reader noticing how they're running themselves dry with the cult and rougelite grind — going hard on their follower duties to try to ease their (Lambert's) burden?

Chop some wood? Leave it to them, they'll get it done and quick!

Farming? Say no more, here are baskets full!

Free time? Praying their little heart out for Lambert to get a moment's reprieve!

They're actually doing quite well like this, but their worry over their crush occupies their head quite a lot.

Feel free to delete, change, whatever! Please take your time with your art, its always such a pleasure to tune into how you're doing regardless. Have a great time, rest easy.

Awh thank you!! We love our little skrunkly Lamb <3

........

As one of Lamb’s most devout followers (who also has a huge crush but could never be bold enough to ask for their hand in marriage), you have ways of expressing your love via acts of service.

You’re observant enough to notice that they seemingly never sleep, or they’re gone for days at a time on crusades.

And you can also tell when the burdens of managing a cult are weighing them down. 

It’s sure a lot of work keeping everyone healthy, rested, well-fed, and faithful.

So when they gifted you a moon necklace and explained its powers, you did what you did best with it: Double-down on your duties. All day and all night you’ll show your love to them.

If there’s trees to chop, you’ll happily oblige even on the hottest, coldest, or rainiest days!

Are the crops ready to harvest? You’ll pick basket-fulls and leave them organized within the chest at the farming plot.

Even if you’re free or Lamb declared a holiday, you’ll chatter less and pray more at the shrine, giving it your full attention and devotion.

They eventually take notice of your extra-hardwork, wondering why.

Of course they appreciate it, but they aren’t sure if it’s because you wanted to ask them something. They’re used to followers asking them for favors.

So with the crown, they pry into your mind, hoping to see what your intentions are.

“I pray for my beloved Leader. Please give them a moment’s reprieve for all they do for us. I hope my work has eased some of their burdens, because they are wonderful and they deserve a break, too.”

Tbh it makes them tear up a little, knowing you’re thinking of them.

Then they call you into the confessional booth, where they actually confess to you instead, showing their gratitude with a hug--and even a quick kiss on the cheek as thanks <3

Your fellow followers notice how flustered you look upon leaving the booth, and you just bashfully smile back at them.

[glassworkspiderlilies]

curtain call

Genshin Impact | Signora & the Fatui Harbingers | AO3 Summary: A funeral is had. Nine Fatui Harbingers reflect.  Notes: I wanted to get this out way sooner after the trailer dropped, but what can you do. In any case, I liked “A Winter Night’s Lazzo” a lot! I wanted to cast a slightly more sentimental light on some of the lines said, or at least a not-so-facetious/mocking/disingenuous one. :’)

.

.

.

The summons come:

Gather.

Rosalyne’s soul has come home.

.

.

.

The air is blue and biting cold, colder than the usual Snezhnayan winter night, of the coldest on record.

Such is the cast of the Tsaritsa’s grief.

.

Columbina flits through the doors like the little dove she is named far, collapsing in a heap at the side of Rosalyne’s casket, laying her cheek against the freezing steel and stone. She is the first to arrive of the Harbingers, and she is pleased to have this moment largely to herself. Sister, sister. She whispers the private word aloud with a touch of reverence. Signora would never have allowed it, but she was dead now, and Columbina had kept the wish to herself anyway. Sister, sister. Columbina hums quietly with her eyes closed, savoring the word in her thoughts.

Ah, but she cannot take too much time. She’s brought gifts, after all, to slip into the casket—or rather, some of Rosalyne’s precious belongings—and she wants to return them away from the other Harbingers’ eyes. A tin of Rosalyne’s favorite rouge, a crystalline bottle of her usual perfume, a scattering of her preferred jewelry, an array of dried flowers. Once done, she resumes her position against the casket, pleased with herself. She’d done well in picking all of those out, hadn’t she?

Sister, sister. Columbina had gotten into Signora’s vanity once, like a wayward curious child. The door had been ajar and Columbina had peeked in to see the cause of such an odd thing before her eyes caught on the cosmetics littered across the vanity. So many! And so pretty! She’d drifted over practically without realizing what she was doing, opening lids and sniffing bottles, examining brushes with open wonder. Oh, Signora would be so angry if she found out! But in a fit of boldness, she’d dipped her pinky finger into a tin of lip rouge in Signora’s typical shade, and before she could apply it—

“Stop.”

Funnily enough, Signora had not been angry. She’d simply taken the tin and set it back down, wiped the color from Columbina’s finger. (In truth, even if Signora had been angry, Columbina would not have been scared, because there was nothing Signora could do to her. But it would, perhaps, have made her sad.) Signora opened a drawer, shuffled some things around, and then pulled out a different tin, its contents a pearly shade of light pink. She’d dipped her own pinky into the color and swiped it across Columbina’s lips with a practiced hand, then slapped the tin into Columbina’s palm.

“This color is better for a young thing like you,” she’d said blandly, “Take it, and get out.”

Despite that, Columbina had stayed for a minute to admire the shade before fluttering close to Signora’s side in the closest thing to a hug without actually doing so before fluttering out, giggling delightedly all the while.

She thinks after that, Signora had perhaps tried to more consciously avoid her, but she needn’t have worried. Columbia knew better than to follow her around unnecessarily like a pet bird, and besides—it was inevitable that eventually they’d be assigned to work together. La Signora was, after all, the resident choice for diplomat, and a particular choice for parties. Her beautiful buxom looks paired with Columbina’s angelic innocence—what information could they not eke out between the two of them? And so, late at night, when they’d had to linger for appearances, Columbina had the pleasure of bearing witness to a slightly tipsy Signora. She’d guided the woman out onto the balcony and handed her another drink, and Signora had laughed before accepting.

“Devilish girl,” Signora had murmured, and tilted Columbina’s own glass up by the base in encouragement. Columbina sipped. “What is it you want from me?”

Sister, sister. Columbina had not told all of the truth.

“I heard you sing once,” she said, humming the only part she remembered. “It helped me sleep to think of it. What was it?”

Rosalyne’s eyes had narrowed, her lips thinned. The minutes ticked by before she turned around to face out from the balcony and sighed deeply.

She sang, very quietly, not to be heard by anyone inside. Columbina had pressed against her side, and listened in silence.

After that, Columbina was allowed to go more or less as she pleased from Signora’s rooms to pester her, or just to have a space to go. It was not trust, and perhaps not even affection. Just—allowance. Columbina had not abused the privilege, but did not let it go to waste, either. Signora taught her music, and cosmetics, and dressing up in an entirely different way Columbina was used to. (It’s not time for you yet, Signora had said, as Columbina had darted in and out of the clothes hanging in Signora’s closet like a ferret. But one day, it will be.)

Columbina sighs quietly, remembering these moments. The others will surely be approaching soon, filling the small space with their stuffy speeches. Before that happens, she wants to do one more thing for Signora, for Rosalyne, for her dear Fair Lady. (It was not the first one she was taught, but it was among her favorites. And if the melody comes out as a dirge—well, she is just a dove, not a nightingale.)

Slowly, hauntingly, Columbina begins to sing.  

.

Pulcinella decrees half a day’s bereavement leave for the nation, and despite the slight dissent it causes, it is simply the only amount he can allow. What the others do not understand—there is much to be done with Signora’s passing, no matter that her funeral service had been delayed until the Tsaritsa had decided it was time. Yes, yes, Pulcinella is always ready to sacrifice less valuable assets for the greater goal—but he hadn’t made the decision to sacrifice the Fair Lady, had he? And because her death was sudden, all her unfinished work and best laid plans and those under her command had to be reorganized and reassigned on short notice. Such a thing was no easy feat. Their lady diplomat had been very skilled and very capable. Prone to emotion and outburst, yes—but accomplished nonetheless. She had been in the position for so very long, and the Fatui had come to rely on her quite a bit.

It wasn’t to say that she wasn’t replaceable. But it was to say that it would not be easy to.

He stops himself from letting out a grumbling sigh, like the old man he is. What service would it be to one who was Eighth of the Harbingers, to let her more delicate work fall to pieces because of simple neglect?

No, no—that would be the greater disservice.

Pulcinella had not made his speech disingenuously. We are gathered here today to remember our dear comrade. In honor of her sacrifice, all work should halt for half a day as the nation mourns her passing.

There may not have been any kind of especial fondness between them, but how could he not appreciate such a competent individual? Dear comrade. In honor of her sacrifice.

If Signora were here, she would had laughed and expected nothing more.

No, rather—

She would have expected nothing at all.

.

Pantalone laces his fingers, rings glinting even in the dim lighting. Merely half a day’s break for a funeral—unsurprising, but abysmal indeed. Still, it sends a message, no matter how much the Fifth Harbinger wants to pretend it is out of necessity and for the good of the organization. Those who needed or wanted to work would, announcement be damned—what would happen, after all? Punishment? For such a thing? As if. And so a longer period of time should have been decreed for appearances, at the very least. Ah, well. Such was how things were going to be, with their Lady Diplomat six feet under.

Dear Signora, dear Rosalyne. Staring at her casket, thinking of her—Pantalone admits, it makes him a touch…melancholy. It’s a shame that she will no longer be around. The woman had frustrated him to no end at first—Pantalone, so particular about his methods, and Signora, who did whatever she wanted however she wanted—but in time, they had struck a rather…amusing balance.

Their confrontation back then could have rivalled a Snezhnayan ice storm; Pantalone had been in the process of an overhauling a bunch of manifests, and meanwhile, Signora had been going through the shipments and taking what she wanted or needed without regard for the rest of it. He hadn’t known it was her, at first, but managed to catch her in the warehouse as she was shaking out an astonishingly expensive dress from its wrapping. Her glance had been dismissive and unashamed, and his mood had worsened looking at all the open packages carelessly strewn about.

Words had certainly been exchanged, neither of their voices rising above an acceptable level, but the bite behind them frosty nonetheless. In any case, it had surprisingly culminated in a mutual agreement. He was still on the new side, then, and the previous system (or lack thereof) was not up to his standards, hence his overhaul. Signora made do like everyone else had, but it wasn’t as if she herself enjoyed having to rummage around in a total mess of a warehouse to get what she needed for her job. And yet, sending someone else to do it for her would only take longer. Discussing the flaws and improvements that could be made, striking a deal between them on how the both of them could contribute to implementing it—yes, their meeting had started out poorly, but it had been a rather good interaction, all in all.

It’d been nothing more than business, in the beginning. But Pantalone smiles a little thinking of the first time he’d surprised her. He’d already heard of her next mission, and when she came to see him about the things she needed to procure, he’d already had them ready, from the necessities to the frivolities.

She’d raised one perfect eyebrow, examining one of the dresses hanging on the rack.

“Who said you could choose my wardrobe?” she scoffed, giving him a look that would have withered a recruit.  

But he was a Harbinger, and raised a perfect eyebrow of his own.

“You’re going to tell me I chose wrongly and didn’t save you the time?”

A moment of silence between them, false tension, and then she had laughed, musical and pretty.

“And the wine?” she asked, gesturing to the bottle sitting on his desk.

“Oh, you want it? Now, now, it won’t do to be greedy. I procured a very profitable business deal. It’s a very rare, excellent wine meant for celebration.”

She’d laughed again, striding over and uncorking it without reserve. There were two crystal glasses, and she knew full well the deal he spoke of was the one she helped broker. But she handed back the bottle for him to pour, smirking, and he sighed and shook his head in a long-suffering manner even as he took it and obeyed.

Neither would admit to being friends. But they got along well, and worked together well, too. When she returned from this assignment they would share more wine then, with her having brought back what he wanted, and all this would become something of a ritual—he, provisioning her with things she didn’t even know she desired or required, and she, bringing back important news, deals, contracts, etcetera. Whether leaving or returning, there was a bottle of wine to be had, or sometimes more than one if there was time to spare. And sometimes, depending on the timing, there was also dinner as they went over business.

Pantalone is not above admitting he will miss such things. Dear Signora, dear Rosalyne, the Fair Lady dead and gone. A shame, that the ebony dress he’d procured upon her return will go untouched in its box, its matching necklace and earrings unworn, the color and design unfitting for any of the other Harbingers. How unfortunate, that the wine he’d set aside will go back into the cellar, for there would be no exchange to be had over generous glasses.  How disappointing, that there would be no one around to frustrate and tantalize him as she did again.

But it is equally upsetting that the projects that involved her will have to be reorganized, replaced with someone less skilled, less compatible. Pantalone is not a sentimental man. The clothing and jewelry will be resold, the wine drunk at another time.

Nevertheless. Her passing is a shame, indeed.

.

Arlecchino will not pretend she knew Signora well, but even so, she pities her. Dying alone, in a foreign land…how…sad. And how insulting, that Pulcinella should give a mere half day’s mourning, that Pantalone should sound so disingenuous in his reproof.

Signora probably would not have appreciated her outburst, but it does not mean she did not deserve to be defended. There had been no particular warmth between them—in fact, it was possible that Signora took some care in avoiding Arlecchino altogether. Or, at the very least, the orphanage. It was very easy to believe that she did not like children. But Arlecchino suspected there was more to it, even if she did not particularly care enough to delve any deeper. Surely it couldn’t be due to awkwardness, because it was well known that Signora’s discipline of new recruits was harsh, and some of those newbies were certainly from the House of the Hearth. But Arlecchino had a hand in deciding where they went, when they came of age—and she was well aware that everyone had different…preferences.

She did not often choose wrong, and never arbitrarily.

There was probably very little that she and Signora had in common; they certainly didn’t talk much, and would never have a chance now. But Arlecchino had respected the Eighth Harbinger well enough, no matter what Signora thought of her.

Rest in peace.

The Fatui are not a warm organization, regardless of the bonds that came from the House of the Hearth. Arlecchino does not know if Signora ever had anyone to defend her.

But at the very least, for this moment, in death, she does.  

.

Even Tartaglia knows that a funeral is no place for a fight, and finds himself exasperated at the lack of decorum between his fellow Harbingers. It would be easy to assume that he couldn’t care less about her funeral, but he did respect her to some degree.

Her methods disgusted him, since he preferred head-on battle, but she was the only one among them who procured two gnoses for Her Majesty. And had she not died—perhaps she would have had three in hand, which would make for half of gods’ cores they were after.  

Who else could boast such a thing? Even if the others had participated, like himself, it had been Signora carrying out the plan and making sure her own fingers could close around the prize before delivering it to the Tsaritsa.

Her service—that, at least, he could respect.

As a child, when he had first joined the Harbingers, he had been prodded towards her with the intention that she would teach—and discipline—him. But while he was good at being friendly, he was no good at proper diplomacy, and was unruly even under Signora’s infamous methods. She washed her hands of him quickly enough, and he had bared his teeth at her in parting; though they worked together on occasion, it was always at least mildly antagonistic between them.

He matured as he grew up, of course, but there was always some slight tension between them, both knowing exactly how to get on each other’s nerves. But, he could admit that Signora was unfailingly professional on the job no matter what, and it was annoying to admit that beside her his own childishness could be apparent.

…Huh.

She was no role model to him, that was for sure. And yet now, he can’t help but vaguely wonder if being more often contrasted against her would have been…helpful. To him, in improving. Or something.

…

Unlike him, to think about such a thing. It must be the funerary air. He’s a fighter, first and foremost, the Tsaritsa’s finely honed instrument of war. Signora would have laughed and mocked him mercilessly if she ever found out that he considered her helpful to him in any way.    

Regardless, she was dead now.

Tartaglia brushes away the odd thoughts, never to consider them again, and sits back for the rest of the initial ceremony patiently. When the time comes, he will close his eyes and bow his head, and not look back when it is time to leave the cathedral—and that will be all. Harbingers accept that death could come at any moment; there is nothing more to say.

Even without the Fair Lady, the cogs of Her Majesty’s plans will keep turning, and his own role does not change.

.

Risible, the juvenile antics.

Sandrone is ready for the ceremony to be over; she has research to get back to, Pulcinella’s decree be damned. Hm…but thinking again, perhaps she will honor it and take tea, first. She cannot remember the last time she ate or drank something.

Despite being fellow Harbingers, she and Signora have not spoken more than a handful of times. However, Sandrone is aware of the part Signora played in the organization, including her involvement in procuring her precious research materials. That warrants proper appreciation.

Perhaps she will make a doll with Signora’s undeniably beautiful features as tribute. A singing automaton, perhaps? Uninspiring, and useless. But she suspects there would be people in this very room who would admire it nonetheless. It is a thought, and she could still add other more useful capabilities. Signora could—what was the phrase?—live on in this manner, although Sandrone found the idea laughable.

Oh dear; she must keep her expression schooled.

It’s a funeral, after all.

.

Death by combat.

Capitano cannot help but feel a little regret that it was not him there at her final battle instead, for surely he would not have lost at so critical a moment. Their Fair Lady had supposedly not conducted herself gracefully in the end, contrary to her usual manner, and he finds that a little—embarrassing, a taint upon her honor. But it had been a bad matchup, and her sacrifice is a great pity.

Lohefalter.  

It is rare that he remembers someone’s name, and would address them as such. Lohefalter—Signora— was no match for him in combat, that was for sure, but she was a formidable catalyst-user in her own right, and he was not too prideful to acknowledge that she was exceptional in areas he was not. He should have asked for a duel at least once, if only to determine just how much of a disadvantage she would be, and if there were any spots of his that could be exploited.

Too late now, and so, a shame. But no reason to dwell over it, as they have a plan to move forward, and Lohefalter’s death will not change what needs to be done.

Moving forward, after all, is the best they can do by her.

.

Dottore has far more interest in his current project than the Fair Lady’s funeral, but since she is on the mind, well, it’s unfortunate that there is no body to exhume, and that he didn’t see her die. Oh, it’s not that he loathed her so much to want those things—just that much could have been gleaned from her corpse and manner of death. Especially if he were the one handling the procedure—yes, he could have extracted far more than met the standard eye.

He probably wouldn’t have been allowed to experiment on her, but it would have been worth a shot to try.

She had had more value alive, though, their Lady Diplomat. Normally he wouldn’t care, but he does find himself rather annoyed that she was no longer here to carry on her work. Without her, Dottore will have to take on more—and delegate more. He and Signora had not been on friendly terms, but they both had jobs to do, and hers also involved smoothing over the damage of his antics, or hiding them entirely. She also had a rather significant hand in acquiring locations for his labs that would go unbothered so long as he kept his experiments within certain levels; he would not say he was grateful—her work was due course—but her service was adequate, if not sometimes more than that.

Unlike so many of the fools who worked under him.

Vexing, the problems her absence will create, more of which will become apparent as business attempts to continue like usual. How irresponsible, that she should leave such a gap.

All in all, she really should have done better.  

.

Pierro walks in and ends the foolish theatrics of his fellow Harbingers so that the funeral can proceed in the way it is meant to. They all bow their heads as he gives a final speech, then trail out of the cathedral in varying speeds. Columbina has to be gently pried away from the casket by Arlecchino, but she does not put up too much resistance so as not to impede the Tsaritsa’s rites. Pantalone glances back once, too, but that is all.

And then, it is just him and Her Majesty.

Pierro looks down at the casket, the Tsaritsa allowing him this extra moment.

What he remembers: a young woman, cast in fire, burning and burning and burning alive like a kingdom once did. She was beautiful even then, broken, her very tears rivulets of flame. Such deep seated grief. Yes, Pierro understood, at least to some extent. Why? She had sobbed, and that was a question he wondered too.

Do you want it to stop? He had asked, purposely not specifying, but she had answered in a desolate yes.

Rosalyne was the first he had recruited, the first to receive a Delusion from him. As the crimson flames receded, her skin returning to its fair shade and her hair back to starlight, she looked up at him with total emptiness in her light grey eyes. Pierro was not surprised, for what was left after such a fire? And so he had reached out a hand, and asked do you have a wish you want granted?

Yes.

She had not shivered in Her Majesty’s presence when presented, merely sinking into the floor. It was hard to tell if it was obeisance or exhaustion. There had been silence, as Her Majesty stared at the heap in front of her, then said, She is a good choice. And then, to Rosalyne, What is it you want? The answer: To forget. Pierro approved; even reduced to this, she was realistic, and did not ask for her lover to be brought back. What is it you wish to forget? Her Majesty asked, and Rosalyne had shuddered violently before she whispered, All of it.  

And so her wish had been granted.

The fact he had been the one to give her her Delusion and recommend her to the Tsaritsa remained, if the circumstances leading up to those things did not. Despite his role in her life, they were not especially close, behaving like two people estranged and then required to work in proximity—cool, polite, distant.

Still, there grew to be a relaxed sort of professionalism between them after all the years working together. As the First Harbinger—and the first of the Fatui as a whole—it’s Pierro’s plans that lay the groundwork, and on his command that the other Harbingers move, superseded only by orders from the Tsaritsa. Signora’s involvement was often significant in these various plans, for her skills and demeanor that she had cultivated throughout the years.

On occasion, they would go over more extensive plans or give and receive reports over a rather nice dinner that would finish with dessert and brandy. Not particularly Snezhnayan, but neither were they, this fact implicitly acknowledged between them. It didn’t matter—it was true of others, too—but how many of them were on the particular speaking terms with the First Harbinger like Signora was, let alone had the privilege of being treated to dinner by him? A bond, no matter how distant they were.

He remembers their last meeting: Signora pouring him more brandy, a faint smile on her lips.

“Relax,” she’d said, after they had gone through some particularly complex ideas, taking a sip from her own glass, “After this, it’ll be in my hands.”

“I am not concerned,” he’d replied, swirling the liquid once. “Just see that you return in a timely manner.”

Signora had stared at him for a moment, measuring, and then chuckled softly, averting her gaze.

“When have I ever disappointed?”

And then was his turn to smile faintly before drinking, and their dinner had ended thus.

Pierro brushes his finger lightly against the top of Rosalyne’s casket, then steps back to allow Her Majesty to bestow her gift of eternal peace, the temperature dropping even lower as iridescent ice begins to cover everything.

Signora had been a pawn, yes. But so too does he remember a woman, and fire, and grief. And so he makes a vow:

Rosalyne, I promise you…your final resting place will be the entirety of the Old World.

Pierro crosses an arm over his chest and makes one final bow, thinking of Rosalyne’s last words to him, and that faint smile of hers.  

.

.

.

Alone, Her Majesty the Tsaritsa leans against Rosalyne’s casket, staring down at the impenetrable ice that she herself has cast over it.

“Sorry…” she whispers, and closes her eyes for a long, long while.  

The benevolent Tsaritsa remains in the frozen cathedral well into the night, turning the memories over in her head, mourning.  

[april-avenue-archiving]

Minors DNI

This contains: This is more of Kyotanis pov (sorta), Fem dom, sub Kyotani, texture play (? Is that a thing? They play with oils and stuff), hand job, slight overstimulation

Summary: There was only one bed! The sendai frogs manager joins the team on the practice trip to aid in kyotanis medical needs. Kyotani has a big ol crush on reader.

His conscience was not going to let you win. No way in hell. You were going to sleep on that bed and that’s final. What kind of person would he be if he let you sleep uncomfortably.

“I insist you take the bed Kyo. It’s been a long day.”

“You’re right, which is why you should take the bed.” He set your blanket on the bed trying to make his point final.

“Kyo, you’ve been practicing all day. You must be exhausted, so please take it. I’ll go on the pull out.” You grabbed your things back from him and placed them on the un-made pull out.

He really wanted to just ask you to sleep together, but he was scared. Would you think he was being weird? Creepy? A Perv?! He would never want to do anything to make you feel uncomfortable.

“Look, you get ready for bed and I'll get all the oils and stuff out. We’ll figure this out later. Is that ok?”

Oh.

He had completely forgotten why you were here in the first place. His doctor had recommended a series of full body massages after any intense activity. You volunteered to help, seeing as you were the manager and were the only one willing to get so close and personal with him.

“Yeah ok. I’ll go shower then.” Grabbing his bag, he picked a towel from the cabinet.

“Good boy. Now hurry up so I can take care of you.”

God, you drove him crazy. He rushed into the bathroom and turned the water to the coldest it would go, quickly stripping out of his team uniform. Goosebumps covered his body the second he touched the water. You’ve been teasing him all day. He mocked your voice in his head. “You’re doing so good Kyo.”,”Hit deeper.”,”Thirsty?” It was an endless cycle he couldn’t seem to break. You riled him up and he went home and fucked his fist, over and over until your face and voice left his brain. Which never happened quickly. Whimpering small phrases, ‘more’, ‘please’ and variants of your name. He was a dead man if you ever found out. He could feel heat rising in his gut just thinking about you.

He finished up showering and got dressed. After taking a few deep breaths to calm his nerves, he walked out and set his things down.

“Alright big guy, everythings set up.” A series of lotions and prescribed oils lined up the edge of the night stand along with large towels covering the bed.

“What is all this?”

“You didn’t read the package the doctor gave you, did you?”

“Nope.” He popped the p, dragging the tips of his fingers over the bottle labels.

“Well then, guess I’m in control. Lay down and take off your shirt.”

“What?” He instinctively crossed his arms. Eyes blown wide at your honesty.

“I mean I can’t really do anything if you keep your shirt on. The pants can stay, I can just roll them up.”

“Right, sorry.” He reached for the side hem of his shirt and pulled it off over his head in one movement. You gave him a playful whistle trying to calm his obvious mood. It didn’t really help.

“Hey,” You reached to cup his cheek. “Calm down, this is supposed to help you relax.” Looking into his eyes you notice his missing eyeliner. You let out a small chuckle. “First time seeing you without makeup, pretty boy.”

Your reassuring tone and laugh made him visibly relax. Crawling onto his back, he dropped down making the bed shake. Crossing his arms he hid his face into the mattress.

“Ready.” Peeking up from under his arm he gave you a small smile.

“Good, tell me if anything ever hurts.”

Grabbing the lotion bottle you lathered your hands and pressed them into his back. He winced.

“Sorry what did I do!” You quickly stepped back worried you hurt him.

“Cold.” He shoved his face deeper into the pillow and gave an exaggerated shiver. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics.

You continued rubbing soft circles to loosen his muscles before you got into the doctor's routine. A frustrated grunt left his mouth when you stopped to grab the paper.

“Alright it says to ‘knuckle' at any sore spots throughout the body, focusing on the back, legs, arms and chest. Use strong thumbs to break apart knots and tension areas’ Sounds simple enough.” You shrug, tossing the paper back onto the night stand. “I’ll start with your back, is that ok?”

With his hum of approval, you got to work. Mixing oils onto your hand and doing as instructed. Mint and floral scents filled the air each time you opened a new bottle. Pressing your knuckles into his back, every so often wincing when you pressed into a sore spot. You took note of the freckles that littered the tops of his shoulders. Your hands traveled from his neck down to the seam of his sweats. Holding his waist up slightly, pressing your thumbs into the small of his back.

His heart started to race. He felt you everywhere all at once. Your touch was gentle yet demanding in a way. Every time you touched his neck he tried to think of anything but you choking him. He was so deep in thought, he completely missed when you made him sit up to work on his legs.

You sat on the floor now with his leg slung over your shoulder, working on his calves, ankles and knees. Working your way up to his thighs you noticed the clear outline of his bulge in his sweats. Too prominent to have anything concealing it.

“Not wearing underwear? Very bold Kyo.” Your purring voice vibrated in his chest, hands smoothing over every inch on his leg. Up and down, up and down. He just needed you a little higher. His mind went blank and rampant at the same time. He needed you to touch him. To please him. To satisfy him.

As if hearing his pleas your palm smoothed over his clothed bulge. His eyes shot open at the low groan he let out.

All the textures and scents of the oils stimulated his senses. He was so deliciously overwhelmed.

“The paper says full body, doesn’t it?” You raise an eyebrow. Your look asking for his permission. And he gave it to you with no hesitation.

“Please.” His voice sounded small. Different than usual. His begging tone drove you over the edge. Tracing his v-line down you took his full cock into your hand giving it a few experimental pumps before tugging his pants down below his waist. Your hand felt so much better than his. You took a couple seconds to admire him. Looking up you could see his begging eyes, flushed cheeks and heaving chest. Your heart skipped a few beats.

“Shit” He cursed under his breath when your other hand came over to cup his balls. The mix of liquids produced a squelching noise that made his ears turn red in embarrassment. Dropping back onto the bed, he covered his face with his arm.

“Enjoying the message, pretty boy. My pretty boy.” He could hear the smile in your voice.

A loud whine left his lips. He repeated the words in his head like a chant. ‘My pretty boy’ He was your pretty boy. Yours.

You increased the pace of your hand, his hips meeting your pumps.

“Please, please please!” He was begging for release.

“Come on Kyo. Cum for me.” Your warm breath against his thigh was what tipped him over the edge. His back arched off the bed as he pawed at the sheets.

Your pace never wavered. His whines became louder and quicker, hands reaching to push yours away.

“S’to much.” Words slurring together, his whole body twitched. Your hands finally left his cock to smooth over his thighs.

“Relaxing right?”

[blacksunscorpio]

November Astro Forecast

Happy Scorpio Season, Stargazers!

The Sun is now living in Plutonic domain and very soon, All Hallows Eve will be upon us, ushering in November- our very own eclipse season. Needless to say, this will likely be a sort of “quantum leap” for us here on earth. Eclipses are always “turning point” periods. Periods where your higher consciousness gets a spartan kick from the universe. 

So here’s a glimpse at what we can expect coming our way this month:

November 1st&2nd- Venus Crosses the Galactic Center. 

The center of our universe sits between the constellations of Sagittarius and Scorpius, where the Milky Way appears brightest. 27 degrees Sagittarius to be exact. With Venus, planet of love crossing this part of our galaxy, It’s energy will be activated.  What you might notice a new sense of boldness in love. New love might come your way or your sense of worth might be rejuvenated. Heart Chakra might open up and heal or a bold declaration of love might soften even the coldest of us signs [You know who you are].

November 2nd- Mercury exits Shadow Period

It’s safe. You can come out now, your ex has probably gotten their wits about them and won’t message you anymore... at least until the next retrograde, lol. That and communication/electronics/travel etc. will likely be working on all cylinders. Mental faculties will be at 100 again which means any miscommunications or misunderstandings you might’ve been dealing with during the Rx period will be resolved.

November 4th- Super New Moon in Scorpio

Self-care. Sleep. Meditation. New moons are always a period of time where we have a clean slate. It’s time to set your intentions. Start manifesting. And with this moon being in the enigmatic sign of Scorpio, you’ll be getting a double whammy of intense Plutonic energy. It’s time for complete transformation. You’ll likely be feeling like you want to protect your energy. Do some introspection. Pay attention to your dreams as it’s not just Neptune that rules this area. Pluto also deals with the subconscious and the Moon [unconscious/sleep/hidden] being in this sign, you might get some important messages coming through. Prophetic ones.

November 5th- Venus Enters Capricorn

Venus slides into the earthy and distinguished sign of Capricorn. However, unlike Venus’ typical 20 days stint in a sign, it will actually remain in Capricorn for an uncommonly strange amount of time. This is due to it’s upcoming retrograde on the 19th of December. Now, whenever a celestial body remains in a sign for an elongated amount of time, it is the Universe’s not so chill way of letting us know that it’s an imperative time to work on the sign’s energy individually and collectively. The issues unearthed will be relating to our personal relationships, money, and love. In addition, since Saturn’s energy is on this hot planet, on a global level, we’ll see issues surrounding government, banks, and health. Responsibility will also be a key theme. We’ll be forced to reckon with how much we are or are not taking in the aforementioned areas. Others may also be forced to reckon with how much responsibility they are taking with you. Stay alert between now and December 19 to what you experience, because once Venus enters retrograde these are the lessons/issues you’ll be commissioned by the universe to sort out.

November 11th- Jupiter Moon Conjunction

On 11/11 a portal will open. If any of you subscribe to numerology, you all know 1111 is a very powerful number. It’s all about alignment. Good humor/moods will abound. Great time to host a party. With the Moon in Aquarius making a 4 degree applying conjunction to Jupiter, luck is also intensified here. Abundance and windfalls can be expected as well. Some of you might find some fortune regarding travel, your studies, unexpected [Aqua] lucky events may occur for you here or perhaps a wish you asked for last 11/11 might come to fruition on this day. Anything is possible with Uranus and Jupiter touching. 

November 19th- Full Moon in Taurus and Full Partial Lunar Eclipse

Huge day in the astrosphere, folks. Fated day. Though partial lunar eclipses aren’t as powerful as total lunar eclipses, the energy is still formidable. Eclipses always represent transformations and turning points. The Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus, and Mars will all be in either a water or earth sign so there’s a need for balance but this is also a time of healing.

Water nourishes earth and earth stabilizes water.

Think back to this past April when the Full Moon was in Scorpio.

Remember what I told you about things being triggered during that time and how you’d have to face them/reevaluate them now?

 Well ante up. Time to bring closure to some situations. Time to make space for the new. Mars will also be forming a square to Saturn that day so discipline is something to take note of. Taurean energy is also stubborn and with the Sun in Scorpio, there’ll be this Marshawn Lynch Beast-mode push-pull until you’re forced to make room for whatever the universe wants to air drop into your life now. It might have to do with your possessions, your self-worth, your values. In fact, the last time we were dealing with a Taurus eclipse lunar cycle was in 2013-2014. Can you remember what was going on from May to November during that time? It might be helpful to evaluate as you’ll be building on whatever lessons you learned during that time. Themes may even resurface. How you approach them will be very telling regarding your person evolution.

November 23rd- Sun Enters Sagittarius

Jupiter takes the Sun’s reigns and we go from intense, sultry and introspective to expansive and optimistic. Moving from a water to fire season is a lot like entering a sauna. Fire and Water make steam-so the switch always brings this  sense of renewal. Like this funny anon mentioned , Sag season, being ruled by Jupiter can bring lots of luck — you might randomly find 20 bucks on the street or find yourself getting out of a speeding ticket with just a warning. Whatever happens in these next 30 or so days, you can take what you’ve learned from Scorpio season and apply it. You might be feeling more adventurous and expansive anyway, and as Jupiter is ruler of the 9th house of higher learning and philosophy, it might be time share what you learned. Get that good karma up.