#but i spend all my energy surviving how can i live

[anastasia12]

lower your inhibitions

lower your inhibitions ; simon “ghost” riley.

You love Simon, you really do.

How could you not? How could you not fall for him? He’s the one who rescued you from a fate worse than death, the one who washes your body for you even though the both of you know that you’re fully capable of showering alone (he loves you so much, he’s constantly craving to touch you in any way he can), the one who took apart one of his honorary medals for his services and melted it down so it could be manipulated and turned into the band on your engagement ring.

(Did you know that the medal he used is the one he got from the mission where you two first met, the fateful mission where he both saved and changed your whole entire life?)

And you know that Simon would do absolutely anything for you. He whispers it to you in the dead of night, holding you so close to his chest like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he doesn’t. He lets you be the one who removes his mask, and if he can do something so intimately vulnerable, then you suppose you can do this for him.

This is giving into one of his latest fantasies, one that he’s been hinting at for quite some time now.

You know that his line of work is difficult at best and life-threatening all the time. You know that he bears a heavy burden on his shoulders — it’s not just his weaponry and equipment that weighs him down, but the fact that so many lives are resting in his hands. You do your best to relieve him of any stress when he gets home: a warm meal waiting for him, fresh clothes set out for him to change into, long nights where you spend all your time and energy determined to give him the reward he deserves for being a hero.

He mentions it in passing, usually when you’re so far gone in the throes of pleasure that you don’t even consciously acknowledge his little comments. Sneaky bastard; he’s been making sure it stays ingrained in your subconscious, though.

Baby, I could spend forever here. You’re certain that’s what he was groaning out the last time you had spread your legs for him and allowed him to eagerly lap at your pussy. You’re not entirely too sure, though — the only thing you can clearly remember through the foggy haze of intense passion was the feeling of him pleasuring you with just his mouth and bringing you to climax on his tongue at least twice that night.

You can only imagine what he must have planned for you tonight.

You’re sure that Simon has an insane amount of stamina as a result of his work. The only thing keeping you, his little soon-to-be housewife, still alive from all of these little entanglements is the fact that you love him enough to do anything he asks of you. So when he tells you that the only thing that’ll help him take his mind off of his latest assignment is to have you sitting on his face, you oblige.

According to him, this is a foolproof plan because only an idiot would be thinking about something else when he’s got the prettiest pussy in the world on top of him.

You could feel your face heating up at his vulgar compliment, but you’re not entirely innocent. The heat was building up towards the lower half of your body after that comment, too.

And now you find yourself nervously straddling your fiance, looking into his eyes.

“You know where you need to be, pretty girl,” His voice is already thick with arousal, and you recognize that hungry glint in his eyes. You pray to anyone out there who’s listening to pretty please give you the strength to survive tonight.

“B-but Simon—” You’re whispering, even though this house is the only residence in the area. (Thank God for that; if the two of you had neighbors, they surely would have filed a noise complaint.)

“Yes, my love?” You can recognize the teasing tone in his voice, and you can hear the smirk he must be wearing on his face.

“How am I supposed to… You know, get on your face and let you do what you want when your mask is still on?”

His infamous balaclava with the skull design etched onto the fabric seems to taunt you. It doesn’t scare you, especially since you’re well aware of who the man behind the mask truly is, but you can’t quite figure out why he hasn’t taken it off yet.

“Oh. I didn’t tell you yet?” He has to be smiling underneath the mask because your reaction to his next words is enough to have him chuckling.

“I’m not eating you out ‘til you’re so wet for me that I can feel you dripping through the mask.”

You immediately freeze up, wondering if he truly means what he just said.

(It’s Simon; of course, he meant every word of it.)

“Sweetheart, I thought you were going to be a good girl for me tonight.” The disapproval he douses his words with isn’t real — you know he’s just trying to tease you because it’s what he loves to do. Still, you find yourself nodding your head and slowly but surely making your way up his resting body before you find yourself hovering uncertainly above his face.

You let out an adorable little yelp of surprise as he suddenly grips the back of your thighs and forces you down on his mask-covered face. For a man his size, the strength isn’t surprising, but it’s his stealth and dexterity that always catches you off guard.

“Can’t wait to taste you.” His voice sounds muffled now due to the pressure being applied to his mouth, and you can feel the slight movements of his mouth despite the thick fabric of his balaclava acting as a barrier between you and him. His eyes are already deepening with desire, and you swallow hard, knowing that it’ll please him if you truly give it your all. You’ve known him for what feels like forever, and you’re engaged to the man. There’s no more room for shyness to take root in this relationship.

It’s time for you to lower your inhibitions.

Your first movements are a bit uncertain, but his groan of appreciation acts as reassurance. You move back and forth slowly, carefully grinding against the mask, and occasionally, your clit will brush against the covered tip of his nose, only adding to your pleasure and allowing you to give into your depravity without worry.

“Just like that, love. You’re doing so well for me.” You can barely make out the words he’s saying, but you give him a shaky smile as you continue to grind against him, your hands finding purchase on the pillow he’s resting his head on. You grip it, trying to hold yourself steady as you continue to buck against him, your arousal practically leaking out of you, a constant stream of juices that is soaking through the fabric, leaving a distinct wet stain on the front of it.

Simon grins at a mission successfully accomplished. Not only can he feel your arousal through the mask, but you’re so soaked for him that he’s certain he can taste you already, too.

One strong hand grips your waist, pausing your jerky movements, and you look down, blinking and trying to ground yourself into reality. You watch as he uses his other hand to tear off the balaclava, tossing it somewhere on the floor of your shared bedroom.

His chin and lips are already shining just the slightest — just how wet for him are you? He gives you a cheeky grin, and you’re still so close to him that when he speaks, his lips brush against your slick folds.

“Don’t stop now, darling. You promised you’d sit on my face.”

He’s so close to helping you get rid of the ache in between your legs, and you find yourself lowering yourself fully, your soft thighs encasing his head, and your soaking cunt landing right on his mouth. You’re already leaking all the way down to his chin, and his groans of pleasure only serve to make you even wetter.

He can’t speak right now; not when he’s too occupied with the meal you’ve so generously decided to grace him with. The room is filled with the obscene sounds of him lapping up everything you’re spilling out.

His tongue slides through your entrance with ease, and you moan in ecstasy, throwing your head back as you start to instinctually buck against his face, practically riding his tongue.

He’s sucking up your arousal, eager to please you but also insanely happy at the position he’s finally in. This is exactly what he needed: pure, unadulterated access to your pussy. Your thighs are surrounding him, and he uses both hands to squeeze harshly at your ass. The slight pain only makes you squeal and jerk up just the slightest, but he growls before forcing you back down on his face, right where you belong.

The ministrations of his tongue are entirely too much. The noises the two of you are making sounds as if the two of you are filming a porno, and you know you can’t last much longer.

Using both of your hands, your fingers curl into the thick locks of his hair, tugging just enough to him groan against your pussy, and you mewl out his name as you cum all over his face.

Your body feels like jelly; this isn’t the first time that Simon has fucked you boneless before, but this orgasm was intense. You think you can still feel some aftershocks of it, and you moan out weakly as you struggle to remain in your seated position on his face.

He’s still lapping everything up, his tongue still exploring every centimeter of yourself you have to offer him. After that climax, your poor pussy is feeling too sensitive, and every time he slightly moves his head, his nose continues to bump against your clit. You’re ultra-aware of every movement of his, extra susceptible to every flick of his tongue and the pleasure is only painfully heightened. You’re too weak to fight him off and while giving in will surely leave you unable to leave the bed all day tomorrow, you can’t find it in yourself to ask him to stop.

“Si-mon.” You whine out his name, but it comes out garbled and broken. Your mind doesn’t know how to react to the constant pleasure he’s inflicting on you and your sensitive little cunt. Your body, though, is eager to receive more of what he has to offer. It’s evident in the way your hole starts to clench around nothing every time he teasingly withdraws his tongue to force you to beg him for more. Even though you feel like you’re unable to move, you still find enough strength left in you to grind against him, rubbing your pussy and spreading your slick all over his face before you cum once again, this one leaving you all the more disorientated.

His visage is a sight to behold: cheeks are flushed red, eyes wild and dark with desire, the lower half of his face stained with your cum and arousal. You should be embarrassed at what a mess you’ve made of your fiance, but he only licks his lips. His eyes almost roll back as he realizes the taste of you will forever be on his tastebuds.

“Taste so good, love.” He gasps out. His hair is messy from the way you’ve shamelessly tugged at his locks. “I need more. You gonna give it to me?”

You’re nodding, but he doesn’t even wait for your affirmation before forcing you down onto his mouth once again.

He wasn’t lying when he made the claim that he could live in between your legs forever. After tonight, you know you’re never going to deny him the chance to prove it, though.

comment if you want your @ in heree

[so-i-did-this-thing]

im sorry this might not be the place to ask for advice/help but im doomscrolling about the news and the soon to be president and im seeing so much to be scared shitless about, invasions, removal of vaccines, cost of living increases, revoking of trans rights and how it might make it all the more impossible to get the surgeries i wanted... its just too fucking scary to breathe right now what do i do with myself

Hey, Anon. I'm here. A lot of us are here right with you.

It's scary, to be sure. And I'm not going to sugarcoat the possibilities of things going south very quickly. So, let's jump into some survival tactics.

This post on burnout is a great place to start. There is a lot of overlap with burnout and the anxiety you're feeling.

Allow yourself to slow down and unplug. You are allowed to step away from the news cycle -- events out of your control will unfold regardless.

Don't feel guilty by letting yourself relax. I find it especially helpful to do activities that don't involve the internet -- I've been decorating my house, mending broken crockery, and sketching some embroidery ideas. I try to take the time to get dressed and groomed every day, to remind myself that I matter. I spend more time outdoors.

As you find the ability to relax, you'll be able to focus better on the things you can do to be resilient. Things I have been doing to improve myself and make me a better helper:

Staying on top of my medical appointments and any preventive care I can do

Working to be physically healthier overall to mitigate future medical issues

Getting all my paperwork in order, including passports

Tweaking my financial budget

Researching what estate & family documentation needs to be done to protect my relationship in case my marriage gets dissolved

Brushing up on job skills, getting new certifications to stay competitively employable

Stocking up on my medical and general emergency supplies, especially for bad weather events

Getting in the habit of mindful purchases, curbing my habit of impulse shopping

Selling things I don't want or need anymore to have a little extra money and be able to move house easier, if need be

Building a habit of fixing/maintaining my possessions instead of trashing broken things

Canceling online subscriptions and quitting social networks that make me feel in danger

Getting my personal and any queer-related files out of the cloud and onto redundant solid state drives

Downloading / printing out queer resources and buying queer art that may be banned or monitored in the future

Enjoying physical media again and hunting for old favorites

Keeping in touch with queer friends and allies and making plans in case people (even myself) need to flee

Being visible when I can and knowing when it's best to lay low

Allowing myself the luxury to dig into things Old Me would have saved for "special" events -- aka, wearing the nice clothes and eating off the fine china as an everyday thing

Shutting the fuck up, especially online, when I think my words could be used against me

In a way, I am trying to simply become a better version of myself, one who is calm & self-sufficient, mindful about his actions, and available to help those in need. It sucks that the driving factor is fear, but I intend to use that fear as a catalyst to be stronger and survive.

There is a lot to be done, but there was always going to be work, new regime or not. But please, start with that burnout article so you can jump into your own plans with new hope and energy. ❤️

[fairycosmos]

so sick of every day just being about surviving it. that's all i have the energy to do but it feels like i'm not really experiencing anything at all

[nabaath-areng]

Having to micromanage your entire physical battery day in and day out is so exhausting, especially when your ability fluctuates without rhyme or reason with every single day. I'm starting to have to reframe how I view and tackle my task lists because otherwise the grief and frustration becomes so much that I get nothing done. I'd love to complete the entire list today, but I'm gonna have to limit myself to ticking off two tasks just so I don't burn myself out to the point of being unable to do anything later...

[cosmogyros]

Literally can't pay my rent until I get paid for September, which hasn't happened yet. Today is Friday, and Monday is the last day of the month. I'm so tired of being poor.

[maraeffect]

hi everyone, this is my monthly check-in <3

[mmmmuffins]

you meet the worlds most misogynistic person and its literally your mother

[dangerousoperatoroperadonkey]

My mother is all into homesteading and off-grid living videos right now. Every time I check up on her, this is what she wants to talk about.

It gives her a sense of peace and purpose I guess. Which is good, she’s been struggling to find that with her injuries and condition. She’s learning skills, and feeling prepared for “the worst”. Like I can’t get her to stop watching conspiracy theory bullshit on YouTube so at least this kind of content alleviates some of the anxiety the other content amplifies, because she feels like she can do something now to secure her safety later.

But to get through these conversations, I have to tell myself— hey, if natural disaster comes our way, some of this might be useful. But I know she’s not just thinking a big storm or natural disaster. She’s preparing for the collapse of society. And I don’t know how to break it to her that we wouldn’t survive that. You can make long lasting candles with crisco? Cool. Where you going to by crisco when society collapses? You’ll stock up now? Ok cool. What will you do when it runs out? Honestly, before it runs out, what will you do when people with guns come to take your various stockpiled supplies?

If we hit a point where society collapses, we’re done for. Food, medicine, etc. we can’t survive without society, without a world where people are working together trying to help each other out.

So, I’ll go through with this shit in the name of natural disaster preparedness, and because it helps her. But that’s as far as I’m willing to put energy into it. I refuse to prepare for, bet on, or hope for the collapse of society. I’d rather spend my energy trying to prevent society collapsing, what little part I can play in that. I’d rather spend my energy supporting people in my community. I’d rather work and build towards a better future, not prepare for the worst.

[mywitchyblog]

Message to @alphaltrainreflection

First of all, bitch, where did I ever say anything about "eroticizing inferiority"? Like, be fucking for real. Show me the receipts. Because unless you’re reading between lines that don’t exist, nothing in my post said anything about power dynamics, submission, or “inferiority.” It sounds like you’re projecting some judgmental bullshit that I didn’t even invite into the conversation. So let’s start there—check yourself before you come into my space twisting my words to fit your weird little agenda.

Second of all, and I mean this with every ounce of sincerity, shut the fuck up. Genuinely, if you don’t like what you see, don’t interact. It’s that simple. Not everyone has to match your narrow idea of what shifting is “supposed” to be. Shifting isn’t some gated community where you get to play security guard and decide who’s allowed in. So do us all a favor, take that rigid-ass energy, and keep it to yourself, bitch.

Let’s be real for a second. You said, “sex freaks who insist on eroticizing inferiority are ruining shifting.” Bitch, nobody’s ruining anything—especially not me. All I said was that I want to get fucked. Plain and simple. If my desire to shift for a good time offends you, you’re free to move along. Shifting means different things to different people, and if sex is part of that, it’s totally valid. If I want to shift to a reality for some damn good dick, who the fuck are you to get all sanctimonious about it? Newsflash: your opinion on what’s “appropriate” doesn’t apply here, darling.

And let’s get one thing fucking clear, because clearly, you need this spelled out: even if someone did want to shift to a reality where they take on a more passive, submissive role, what of it? Why the fuck does that bother you so much? Some people spend their whole lives having to be strong, holding shit together, constantly defending themselves, and staying in control just to survive. Maybe, just maybe, they want to create a reality where they can finally let go, surrender, and trust someone who respects them and won’t take advantage of them. Imagine that—feeling safe enough to let down your guard and explore a side of yourself you don’t get to express in this life. For some people, that’s healing. For others, it’s fun. Either way, it’s their choice, not yours. So back the fuck off.

So let’s talk about this “ruining shifting” nonsense you pulled out of nowhere. Bitch, the only thing “ruining” anything is people like you, stomping into conversations uninvited and acting like you’re the gatekeeper of how others should experience their desires. You’re clinging to this imaginary rulebook about what’s “appropriate” for shifting as if that makes you morally superior, but all it does is make you look insecure, judgmental, and way too invested in other people’s business. Spoiler alert: nobody gives a fuck about your approval or needs it to validate their experience.

Here’s the truth, since you seem to need a wake-up call: shifting is deeply personal. It’s about self-determination and freedom, not conforming to some rigid-ass code of conduct set by random bitches on the internet. If someone wants to shift for spiritual growth, self-discovery, sexual exploration, or all of the above, that’s their fucking prerogative. Shaming them because it doesn’t align with your limited, vanilla-ass view of what’s “appropriate” is straight-up pathetic.

And by the way, bitch, sex is a natural, beautiful, and completely valid part of life. If I want to shift for sex, or if someone else wants to shift to feel cherished, adored, or, yes, even submissive, that’s nobody’s fucking business but ours. Maybe instead of trying to drag others down to your level of insecurity, you could take a hard look in the mirror and figure out why other people’s sexual autonomy bothers you so damn much. Because this isn’t about “ruining shifting”; it’s about you being uncomfortable with the idea of someone enjoying themselves in a way that’s different from what you deem acceptable. Maybe some self-reflection would do you some good.

To every other shifter out there who’s ever been made to feel guilty or “lesser” for shifting for your own reasons, listen up: you don’t owe anyone an explanation, and you don’t need anyone’s approval. Your DR, your fucking rules. If shifting for you is about finding love, intimacy, exploration, or yes, even some good dick, that’s your choice. Don’t let some insecure bitch shame you or make you feel like you’re somehow ruining the experience just because it doesn’t fit into their narrow little box. Shifting is about creating the life and reality you want to live—whatever the fuck that looks like for you.

So, here’s a suggestion: take your unsolicited, holier-than-thou attitude and keep it to yourself. If you can’t handle seeing people talk openly about their desires and goals for shifting, then bitch, scroll past and save yourself the outrage. Because at the end of the day, I’m not here to please you, and neither is anyone else. We’re here to live our best lives, however we see fit, and if that’s too much for you, the door’s right over there.

To everyone who’s out here shifting for what they want, keep going. Own your desires, own your reality, and don’t let anyone’s outdated judgment make you feel like you’re doing it wrong. Shifting is your journey, and if that includes exploring intimacy, vulnerability, or sexuality, you’re not alone. You’re valid, and your experience is just as real and important as anyone else’s.

Consider this your reminder that no one’s begging for your approval. I’ll be over here, unbothered, shifting for exactly what I want, and loving every fucking second of it. ✨

[mellowsaturns]

for you, anything

JOEL MILLER X READER

summary: joel do what he does best, smuggling and taking care of you

warnings: fluff, soft!joel, domesticity, established relationship, reader caught a cold, sick fic

wc: 900

—

After spending years and years fighting to survive a cordyceps apocalypse and tolerating a totalitarian government regime, you were no stranger to hardship. But it seemed like one thing has finally gotten to you, something that had you weak and bedridden for days now, something so insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but it happened—you had managed to catch a common cold.

Okay, maybe you were being a little dramatic, but the combination of a sore throat, the inability to breathe, the stuffy nose and constant chills was making you feel awful.

The door opens and on a normal day, you would’ve been alert and ready for any potential intruders but you had no energy left and besides, you knew who it was just by the creaks of the floorboard.

You peek out from the corner of your eyes and Joel was leaning against the wall at the end of your bed, looking at you in pity.

“Shut up,” you groaned, pulling the thin blanket over your head.

That garnered a small chuckle from him. “Didn’t even say anything,” he said.

“You didn’t need to,” you murmured.

Feeling the bed dip with his pressure, he pulled the cover away. “How are you feeling today?”

“Like shit,” you replied as he brought his hand up to feel your forehead. “I can feel a major headache forming,” you added with a pout.

“Poor baby,” he cooed.

You gave him a weak punch in the arm. “You dick, if you’re here to make fun of me just leave.”

He snickered for a bit, clearly enjoying this before mellowing. “Here,” he said, handing you a paper bag you didn’t even know he was holding.

Raising an eyebrow in suspicion you took a peek inside. “Joel,” you gasped, “How did you manage to get these?”

Because inside the bag were different envelopes of white pills and packets of powdered electrolytes, everything you needed to help you get through a cold—probably way past its expiration date, but still, these were highly prized. You would have had to work months just to get enough rations for these items. And Joel just handed you these…

“Are you seriously questioning my skills?”

You scoffed. “No. But you really didn’t have to get all these for me. I would have gotten better with time.” And you know that he knows it too, but he still got these things for you because he knew it would help alleviate the pain even if it was for a little bit. And no matter how much he downplays it, you know how hard it must’ve been for him to get these items. You know because you’re in this business with him.

You couldn’t help the smile that was tugging at your lips. “But… Thank you. I appreciate you doing this for me.” For always taking care of me.

He hummed and looked away, embarrassed at the gratitude you were giving him. Getting up, he headed to the living room and grabbed you a bottle of water.

“Let me,” he offered, before placing the bottle on your bedside and helping you sit straight. He popped the medicine onto your palm and you swallowed them down. And maybe it was the placebo effect but you were feeling better already—or maybe it was just the fact that Joel was here.

Sometimes, he really was the best medicine.

Suddenly, he pulled out something from his pocket. “Here.”

You frowned in confusion before a surprised expression spread all over. “Joel…” you whispered.

Turning the package in your hand, you examined its content and the slight wrinkles of the plastic. He had managed to find you a bag of those hard fruity candies that you once loved when the world wasn’t in ruins—something you had forgotten until now. Something meaningless you told him all those years ago when you first got to know each other and reminisced about the good old days.

You wanted to cry. He went through all this effort just to make your life a little easier and joyful when you know it made his life a little harder.

When you looked up at him, he gave you a shy smile. “Thought it might make you happy.”

You were beaming. And if you weren’t sick, you’d kiss him.

He started taking off his shoes when you stopped him. “Joel, I’m sick.”

He scoffed, as if you said something absurd. “Move over,” he grunted, hogging the spot next to you and getting underneath the covers.

He crossed his arms and closed his eyes.

“I kinda miss this you know,” you whispered. Because even though you were wrapped in his jacket he gave you a few days ago, in which he insisted you wear because your blanket was too thin, it just wasn’t the same.

He made a noise in agreement and minutes later, he was snoring.

It’s been three days since you caught a cold, hence, three days since you’ve been fully in his presence. It only occurred to you now that he didn’t stay away because he was scared of catching it, but that he spent all that time working and doing what he does best. All because of you—all for you.

All you could do was admire him as moonlight gently graced the features of his face.

When you got better, you’d give him that kiss he deserved.

[elysiansparadise]

My cap Venus lives for ur aesthetic and work 💗 I would love ur insight on Saturn in the 2nd 🪐

Hello love! Thanks for your words. 💗

Saturn in the 2nd house

With this placement it is very likely that the natives felt a sense of insecurity, they may think that they had never experienced what it was like to have a safe place to turn to when things went wrong, the lack of stability and order in their lives and that they experienced many things. that made them have to witness how what they or their family built, collapsed. The fear of putting effort into something only to have it collapse later. The fear of never having something secure and constant in their lives. They could have had economic problems since they were children or grew up in a home without structure. They had to assume the role of those who never broke, whom life could not move or provoke, many times being the support of the people around them or simply creating this mentality of "not causing more problems than there already were." They get used to carrying everything themselves, for fear of putting more burdens on the shoulders of those they love. Problems with self-acceptance and the mistaken idea of ​​having to do or achieve something to be loved. They have a big insecurity, and this is not having enough, either from sufficient material goods to survive or feeling that they are not enough.

Many are highly alert and wary when it comes to having others around, no matter how charming they may behave, it is difficult to let someone in completely. Many of them are very selective, and not only that, but they avoid very direct physical contact with other people, and can appear distant in that aspect. They usually know how to manage their money very well since they know how difficult it is to earn it. Financial growth can be slow but steady. Often, these people experience gradual progress in accumulating material goods and wealth. They are very persistent people when it comes to getting what they want and they highly value hard work. They hate laziness, both feeling that they are being lazy and the people around them are being lazy. Despite how secretive and selective they may seem, when they find people they value, they can be fiercely loyal and steadfast. These people can do many things for those they know they want to have around. Many of them have this way of thinking of giving to others the same thing that they give to the natives, they will never go out of their way to give to those who do not do the same for them. These natives are very consistent when it comes to giving to causes they feel are worthwhile. Consistency and stability are everything for them, even outside of economic aspects.

Material security is a priority. These people work hard to ensure they have a solid financial foundation that will provide them with long-term stability. Financial success for these natives can come later in life, after years of constant and disciplined effort. However, once they achieve it, it tends to be long-lasting and stable. They have a strong belief in the value of personal effort and in earning one's livelihood through hard work. These people tend to feel more secure and satisfied when they know they have earned what they have. Many of them have learned to work independently after what they want, so it can be difficult for them to accept support. Many of them may even have problems accepting gifts or gifts from other people [although that doesn't mean they don't like it]. These people manage their resources effectively, and by resources I not only include economic ones, but all of them. They will not spend their energy or time on things that are not worth it, neither on projects, nor jobs, much less people.

-> Go back to the masterlist

[millysastroblog]

⚡️Solar return chart 2022⚡️

Hello I’m am back with SR Chart observation as I promised from 2022, these are just personal observations and experiences if you haven’t experienced any sorts of things that’s complete fine. These are not facts neither predictions so don’t panic and think that the same situation will manifest for you. Alright ??? 😉

yeah let’s just get into it ! 🫶🏽

⚡️Cancer Rising:

This placement literally made me emotionally expressive and MOODY more than ever. From the start of that year i stayed at home for literally 3- 4 months after I dropped out of school. I very much enjoyed being at home with my family, cooking, cleaning doing domestic stuff . It was very interesting how the people in my environment started being very supportive and protective over my well-being like those of a little child. I definitely expressed my emotions openly : like randomly crying , huge outburst of laughter , or simply smiling a lot. I felt more caring and nurturing towards others . Thought about moving out surfaced a lot. Cancer is a very comforting energy but since it’s ruled by the moon there a lot of drastic unstable changes that could occur in once live.

⚡️Moon , North Node in the 12th house:

This placement brought a profound sense of isolation and introspection. I found myself naturally drawn to solitude, spending hours meditating, practicing yoga, or simply enjoying peaceful moments in nature. It felt like a spiritual awakening—connecting deeply with my intuition and exploring dreams that often felt like messages from a higher source. Meditation and Manifestation became a daily practice. While these moments of stillness were empowering, they also highlighted an inner restlessness and a desire to understand my true purpose. This phase was about healing, embracing the unknown, and surrendering to the flow of life.

⚡️Sun, Neptune, Jupiter in the 10th house:

Career and life path became the central focus during this time. I found myself dreaming bigger, envisioning a life where my efforts and aspirations aligned perfectly. I applied to different companies and got a new good job, I was in my hustling and bag area it was pretty good and productive year. I started thinking about the impact I wanted to have in the world like how I wanted to be perceived and what achievements I wanted to be known for. It was all about refining my goals, building a stronger work ethic, and setting the stage for future success.

⚡️SR Rising in natal 3rd house:

Communication became a major theme since I had went to a lot of interviews, had to reintroduce myself to different people which pushed me out of my comfort zone. Also writing job applications, or reconnecting with siblings, it felt like the universe was nudging me to refine my voice and share my thoughts more clearly. Short-distance travels were frequent, giving me a sense of curiosity.

⚡️Venus, Mars, Pluto in the 8th house:

Now these placements fucked meee upppp and I really mean they fucked my life up and turned it to 180

With Pluto being in my 8th house, the intensity of this year was amplified 10x. The 8th house rules transformation, trauma, money, intimacy, and taboo topics, so this energy hit hard. At the start, I was determined to open a bank and savings account, but it took forever with endless complications. I became obsessed with earning money—whether through my own efforts or others' help. Mars pushed me to focus on loans, investments, and financial security, while Venus amplified my desire for deep, soul-bonding relationships, intimacy, and, let’s be real... a lot of … Pluto, however, had other plans, flipping my world upside down. It made me face every fear and trauma regarding death, losing loved ones, intimacy, change, love, and even illness. I got sick for six months straight, lost friends, stability, and other things. It led to a mild depression, but in true 8th house fashion, I rose stronger. Now, I feel like Wonder Woman nothing and no one can shake me. I survived the storm, and that’s power. 💪🔥

⚡️Saturn in the 9th house:

Soo with this Saturn placement your girl has been hustling for good grades in school to not fail for the year. like since then I hated going to school bc it very stressful, and bad for my well-being , like I was always tense and stressed bc of school, in our normal societal living that is very much expected from us but honestly I just wasn’t having it. And even when i changed to another school it was the same shit like the environment and people were very cold ,strict and depressing I honestly didn’t had a nice time at school but at least I was motivated to study and learn as much as I can but at the end I decided to rather drop out because it was fucking with mental health. Also traveling long as hours for work and school purposes drove me crazy, that’s an area where I have been very disciplined at but It definitely took patience and determination to get there ;) .

⚡️Uranus, Chiron in the 11th house:

Guese who tf lost all their friends suddenly ??? And had a hard time fitting in new social groups because they felt different from everyone else:

🙋🏽‍♀️

(but no for real the energy is 10x intensified bc I have it natally additionaly Saturn is transiting my natal 11th house so yeah 🙁) not only did I loose most of friends but when engaging with different kinds of social groups I felt so uncomfortable and weird, like I had a very detached feeling. I hated to even be surrounded by groups of ppl that don’t hold the same value to mine or I that I can’t engage in intellectual topic of my interest. I was mostly bored asf when in interactions and stoped giving a fuck about trying too fit in and please their expectation and needs, I surely saw also trough the fake persona of a lot of ppl that I encountered and distanced myself even more. But It was that easy being all alone and isolated.

[maxlarens]

oscar and 31?

31) doing a pinky swear

random but i listened to this and this dj set while writing this

It’s difficult to resist the lure of the music, the dance floor that churns and pulses at your back. The DJ cycles through euro-pop, 2000s anthems and countless club classics that make you itch to get up and dance, something tugging in your gut when you don't.

Max and Lando have already gone into the thick of it, leaving you and Oscar at the booth. And you've decided that you're not leaving Oscar. If he's not getting on the dance floor then you aren't either. Even if your leg is about to fall off from how much you've been tapping it to the beat and you keep tipping your head back to say oh, dude, I love this song.

He'd made some offhand comment the other day, when you and Lando first made these plans, something about how he was boring, of all things. How he wouldn't be any fun at a club. It's been eating at you since. The way he'd said it, not like it was something he came to on his own, but rather, like it was something someone had told him.

The absolute last thing Oscar Piastri is is boring.

You hate that he thinks he is, you hate that he thinks he needs to be a certain way to make you happy. To make anyone happy. And you certainly don't care if he doesn't want to dance at a club— no one's going to die if he doesn't, and you'll survive a few hours in the booth until Max tires of Lando and his boundless energy.

Across from you, Oscar's taking sips of his vodka pineapple. His pale cheeks have been steadily turning more red the more alcohol that he drinks, it's cute. You're turning your drink in circles, watching it leave condensation rings on the linoleum table. The DJ is playing a remix of Murder on the Dancefloor and you're about to tip your head back and groan oh my god I love this song,

but Oscar is laughing before the words can even leave your mouth.

"You love this song too?", he raises his very nice eyebrows at you, smiling that closed mouth polite cat smile everyone likes so much.

You sigh, laugh, then roll your eyes at yourself, "Yeah. Love it."

He smiles into his drink, it turns into something a little bittersweet after a moment of you watching him. You think of the sad way he'd twitched his nose the other day, while he was telling you he was boring. Without thinking, spurred on by the alcohol, you lean across the table and swat his hand with yours. But you don't move after, you just slip your fingers into the grooves of his knuckles.

"What are you thinking?"

He bites the inside of his bottom lip, shrugs, "Nothing important."

You're not convinced.

"Is this about you thinking you're boring, Oscar?" —he raises an eyebrow at you, one that says maybe, one that says go on— "Because you are not fucking boring, Piastri."

He laughs, but its critical, disbelieving. More of a scoff than a laugh, but he doesn't want you to catch on. He's trying to act like it's all fine. That's how he is— it's fine it's fine he says and he doesn't let anyone see that things hurt him. He's so good, so nice, so unwilling to make anyone else feel bad.

Positive, optimistic to a fault.

"You're not," you insist, pressing your fingertips into his knuckles.

He shrugs again, "I'm keeping you here. I know you want to go dance. You should go.”

You’re shaking your head before he can finish, “Oscar. Please, I will live. Anyway, sometimes I want to spend time with you without Lando hanging around, y’know.”

Oscar snorts, sincerely this time, “Yeah, he’s—”

“Annoying,” you supply.

“I was going to say a pain.”

“Same thing.”

“Mm,” Oscar snickers, “S’pose so.”

Then,

“Are you sure you want to stay here with me?”

You slide your fingers down to his wrist, gently turning his arm around so it faces upward. His skin is smooth where you trace the lines in his palm. You're both quiet, looking down at your hands where they're intertwined. If you're honest, you've kind of forgotten why you did that— your thoughts feel loose, a bit disconnected. Oscar is warm and sweet and here. You just wanted to touch his hand you think. You trace a line up his ring finger without thinking.

"I'm sure," you say, a little breathless for no good reason.

"Promise."

"Huh?", you drift your gaze up to his.

Polite cat smile, he repeats, "Promise?", it's more of a question now.

You nod seriously, curling your fingers into a fist and sticking your pinky finger out, "I pinky promise, Oscar."

He does the same, lifting his hand up in offering. Your pinkies lock together, he squeezes tightly and you pull against him, like the tighter the promise is the more that you mean it.

[ereawrites]

girl please you are my only source of Shisui content😭😭 really feeding us shisui simps🤝🏻 anyways, if you feel like it, can you please write about shisui and (if you want to) your fav characters “the moment they realized they fell in love with you”

MMMMMMM this is cute asf! under the cut for length

shisui

he definitely already recognises he has Feelings with a capital F. he's a smart boy and unlike the other two he is pretty emotionally available. but he doesn't want to reveal his Feelings just yet because circumstances are tricky, and he doesn't want to go through all the emotions of a big confession just to not be able to pursue a relationship with you

side note this is ANBU shisui. so he's pretty busy and just casually risking his life on the regular. tbh you're also probably in ANBU and that's how you guys get to know each other so well

anyway he's been sitting on these Feelings for a while. and he knows you like him too. he knows. he indulges in some lowkey flirting from time to time, but he also tries to maintain some level of professional distance

and then you save his life and he's SCREWED

you're both assigned to the same mission and spend the entire time dancing around flirting/not flirting, trying to hide it from your teammates, just generally having to try really hard not to distract each other too much. then there's an ambush on your squad and shit gets kinda crazy

shisui probably exhausts himself a bit protecting the entire squad and manages to get himself knocked flat on his ass. there's an enemy stood over him and he's out of kunai and his chakra is depleted and he thinks well, that's that and then you're cutting down the enemy out of nowhere

he stares up at you like an idiot lol. you look like shit, you're covered in blood and your headband is lopsided. and he thinks you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen

HE LIKES A WOMAN WHO COULD BEAT HIS ASS okay

in that moment he just realises how much he trusts you, and how well you guys work together. he can't stop thinking about it long after you guys get back to the village. he's literally dreaming about it. and after a few days he's like. this is love ig. wow.

shisui won't keep it from you for long. he thinks you deserve to know, even if it changes your dynamic as teammates. capital F Feelings are one thing but love is too important to hide. he might try to keep it professional (mutual pining?!?!??!), but I also see him going for a relationship here, even if you have to hide it from your superiors. and let's be real a secret relationship with shisui. it's hot

kakashi

see now kakashi. he knows he has feelings. but he won't admit it to himself. he says no thank you not today. he's so stupid lol he thinks if he ignores it then it'll go away

he can't really keep himself away from you though. he wants to distance himself and that's his first instinct, but he literally just can't do it. he keeps finding himself wandering into your path, or just happening to train at the same time as you, or listening more intently when a mutual friend mentions your name

and the whole damn time he's like ah yes this is normal friendship. you probably don't realise anything is going on with him though, because kakashi is just weird in general. he does all this strange shit and no one questions it. you encounter him in the makeup aisle of a store on the other side of town from where he lives, and he thinks the jig is up, but you literally just assume he's doing Kakashi Things. and he thinks he's so slick

when it does finally hit him though, it hits him HARD. I see him finally realising he's in love in a very random, domestic moment

okok I've got it. he's back from a pretty tiring mission and he just instantly wipes out in his apartment as usual, doesn't bother getting groceries or anything. he figures he can survive off the food pills in the cupboard for a few days until he has the energy to grocery shop

then you just.....show up at his apartment??? carrying grocery bags?? and start putting food in his fridge????

kakashi doesn't really know how to react to this, but he feels bad just standing there, so he kinda sheepishly shuffles over and starts helping you put the groceries away. and it's nice. this is when he realises

literally drops whatever he's holding. this is a big oh shit moment for him. he lowkey really panics, he has no idea what he's supposed to do with these feelings, it's the dreaded L Word and that's scary as hell. he goes super quiet and avoids eye contact bc he's convinced you're going to read his mind

and of course you think this is Kakashi Things yet again. he's just weird. even over the next few weeks when he starts acting REALLY strange - avoiding you like the plague one day, attached to your hip the next - you don't think much of it. and this makes it sooooo much worse for him lol. he's never going to confess on his own

it's honestly torture for him. he's losing sleep over this. kakashi hatake??? in.... LOVE???? impossible

please please please just let one of your mutual friends intervene. hopefully he (drunkenly) confesses to someone, and they're able to pull some strings to force you to talk to each other. he may literally pass out when he has to confess to you, but just roll with it

tobirama

oh god it's so cliche for tobirama but I have to do it. ENEMIES TO LOVERS

like look at him. he's so smug. he has a lot of pride, so he's pretty likely to end up having some kind of political/ideological rivalry with you. maybe you tend to very vocally disagree with his ideas for the village or strategies for missions. and it annoys him so much, especially because you're articulate and convincing with your points

so he's in this weird position where he has respect for you and your intelligence..... but you also infuriate him to no end. over time, he starts to dwell on your encounters more and more - he thinks about them even when he's training, or relaxing at home, or away on a mission. and this just pisses him off more bc he literally cannot get a moment's peace from you

hashirama notices this WELL before tobirama does. and it makes him all giddy and excited bc he knows what it means, but he doesn't want to ruin the surprise for tobirama lol

honestly it gets to the point where he will ignore everyone else in the room just to debate with you. it's at this point that he starts to realise he's got strong emotions towards you, but he kind of just brushes it off as a rivalry. he definitely doesn't even consider the possibility that they're romantic feelings

tbh. you're going to have to be the one to make the first move. unfortunately for you, tobirama is hot AND irritating, so he's going to get under your skin just as much as you get under his. it probably ends up with a pretty heated confrontation at some point

lets say you've had a pretty big disagreement at a meeting, and he ended up getting his way with the rest of the council. so you storm into his office later that day to chew him out. and tobirama is in one of his smug asshole moods bc he 'won', which means he's just smirking at you. and this is the moment ok just kiss him. wipe the smug look off his face

it takes him a few seconds to react, but he definitely pushes you off and orders you out of his office. at first he's absolutely furious, but then he realises a few days later that he can't stop thinking about the kiss, and not necessarily in a bad way. he finds himself wishing he'd kissed you back, even if just out of curiosity

BUT tobirama is stubborn so he won't admit that to you. he waits until he gets an opportunity to come argue with you, then seeks you out, and tries to goad you into kissing him again. hopefully he manages to piss you off enough to make you do it. because it's GOOD

he can't help but kiss you hard. probably pulls you into him by the jaw, wraps his other arm around your waist, won't let you go. don't wanna get too saucy here but I wouldn't be surprised if this gets a little steamy before he stops himself. he gets lost in the moment

then he pushes you off AGAIN lol it's so frustrating. this time it's bc he's like oh fuck. fuck. this is more than a rivalry

it's gonna end up a game of cat and mouse tbh. neither of you want to admit the depth of your feelings, but you also can't stay away from each other

[amethystarachnid]

CLINGING TO CHRISTMAS

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Request: Please, "Time Together" with Tony/f!reader, because it's my dream to share a quality time with him! Spend some time in bed in the morning, cook breakfast together, watch movies cuddling on the couch, eat some snacks, visit a coffee shop in the afternoon, walk on the streets admiring the Christmas decorations and of course buy some decorations for their house 💖 you can add all the fluff you want, love! Thank you! 💖 (@little-angel-oc)

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.2k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing pure fluff

ᯓ★ Sorry if I'm not posting much, I didn't expect this period of the year to make me so busy :(

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The morning light filters into the penthouse through curtains half-drawn, painting soft, golden streaks across the room. The December chill whispers against the glass, but none of it reaches you. Wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and luxury, you stretch lazily, your toes brushing against the silk sheets and your back pressing into the solid warmth behind you.

Tony Stark, self-proclaimed genius billionaire and undoubtedly the clingiest man alive, has you locked in his arms. His chest rises and falls against your back, his nose buried somewhere near the curve of your neck. It’s a miracle you can breathe at all with how tightly he’s holding you, as though the world might steal you away the second he lets go.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly from sleep but tinged with an unmistakable softness. He doesn’t lift his head, just tightens his hold and presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Actually, scratch that. Let’s stay in bed and make it an all-day kind of morning.”

You laugh softly, your breath visible in the cool air of the room. "We both know you can’t stay still for that long."

Tony’s lips curve into a smile against your skin. “Challenge accepted. If you try to move, I’ll just make a counter-play and pull you back.” His hand, warm and strong, splays across your stomach as he shifts to kiss the side of your jaw. “How am I supposed to work when this—” he gestures vaguely, as if encompassing you, the bed, and the whole moment—“exists?”

“You’ll survive,” you tease, but you don’t make any move to escape his embrace.

It’s rare to see him so utterly unguarded, his usual whirlwind of energy and rapid-fire wit replaced by this tender, sleepy version of himself. You suppose that’s what the holidays do to him—or maybe it’s just what you do to him.

The penthouse feels different this time of year. Warmer. Cozier. The massive space, which you used to think was too cold and impersonal when you first moved in, has been transformed by the simplest of touches. A Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner of the living room, its branches adorned with lights and ornaments you picked out together last week. Tony had grumbled through most of it, claiming he could’ve just hired someone to do the decorating, but the way his face lit up when you found the perfect star for the top told you he didn’t regret a second of it.

“You know,” he says, his voice interrupting your thoughts, “I don’t think I’ve ever really done Christmas right. Not like this.”

“Not like what?”

“This.” He props himself up on one elbow, his dark eyes meeting yours. “With you. The tree. The... not-hiring-a-company part. It’s new, and I like it.” He leans down, his nose brushing yours. “But you’ve ruined me, you know that? Stark Industries is going to fall apart because I can’t focus on anything except this face.”

You roll your eyes, though your cheeks flush at his compliment. “I’m sure Pepper would argue that you’ve been distracted long before I came along.”

“True. But now it’s your fault, so congrats.” He presses a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, and you melt into him, your hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in his already-messy hair. The taste of coffee lingers faintly on his lips, even though he hasn’t left the bed yet—an early morning habit, courtesy of the automated coffee machine he designed to deliver a steaming cup to his bedside at 7:00 AM sharp.

When you finally break apart, he rests his forehead against yours, his grin boyish and carefree. “So, what’s the plan today? More holiday cheer? Gingerbread houses? Are we making a wreath? Stringing popcorn on a garland?”

“None of those things, because you don’t have the patience for them,” you tease, laughing when he huffs in mock offense.

“I’ll have you know, I’m an incredibly patient man when it comes to—” He pauses, as if searching for the right word. “Actually, never mind. You’re right. But I’ll be an excellent assistant. You’re the boss of Christmas around here.”

You sit up slightly, the sheets pooling around your waist, and raise an eyebrow. “That’s a dangerous thing to say. I could put you to work.”

Tony smirks, his hands trailing down to your waist. “Put me to work. I dare you. I’m excellent at manual labor. By which I mean supervising while you do all the hard stuff.”

“Exactly what I thought,” you reply, poking him in the chest. “Lazy.”

He grabs your hand before you can pull it back, bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “Not lazy. Just very efficient at conserving energy for important tasks—like keeping you warm.”

“Oh, is that what you’re doing?” You laugh as he pulls you back down into his arms, burying his face in your neck again. The scratch of his stubble makes you squirm, but you don’t mind.

Outside, the snow begins to fall in lazy flurries, dusting the balcony and the tops of skyscrapers. Inside, the world feels smaller, quieter, and infinitely more perfect. Wrapped in Tony’s arms, the chaos of the world seems a million miles away, and for once, neither of you is in any rush to bring it back.

“Alright, Mr. Efficient,” you murmur, breaking the comfortable silence as Tony’s thumb lazily traces patterns on your hip. “Time to get up.”

He groans dramatically, tightening his arms around you like a human bear trap. “Nope. Hard pass. The bed is warm, you’re here, and there’s no world-ending emergency—why would I leave this paradise?”

“Because you need to eat,” you counter, trying to wiggle free. “And I’m starving.”

“I have protein bars for that,” he says, burying his face further into your neck. “Energy-efficient, calorie-packed, no mess.”

“Tony,” you scold, though you’re laughing. “That’s not breakfast.”

“It can be if you eat it in the morning,” he retorts, smug as ever, and you can feel his grin against your skin.

You twist around to face him, your hands braced against his chest. “What if I promise pancakes? You love pancakes.”

Tony’s eyes crack open, a flicker of interest sparking to life. “You’re not wrong. Pancakes are a pretty compelling argument.”

“And we can make them together,” you add, your voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. “It’ll be fun.”

He narrows his eyes at you like you’ve just proposed an evil plot. “Fun, or me getting roped into some sort of ‘domestic bonding experience’ that ends with me covered in flour and you laughing at me?”

“Both,” you admit shamelessly. “But there will be pancakes.”

Tony sighs like a martyr but sits up, the sheets falling from his shoulders. “Fine. But if I’m going to embarrass myself, I reserve the right to wear the apron. The manly apron.”

You raise an eyebrow, smirking. “The one that says ‘Genius at Work’?”

“It’s the only acceptable choice,” he declares, climbing out of bed with a dramatic stretch before extending a hand to you. “Let’s go make the kitchen regret its existence.”

The kitchen, with its sleek, state-of-the-art design, looks more like a high-tech laboratory than a place where anyone actually cooks. You rummage through the cabinets, pulling out ingredients, while Tony stands by the island, watching you with an amused expression.

“You’re really going to make me do this, huh?” he asks, leaning on the counter.

“It’s just pancakes, Tony. Flour, eggs, milk—basic stuff. Even you can’t mess this up.”

“First of all, rude,” he says, pretending to be offended. “Second, I don’t see you factoring in my wild card genius. You might end up with... I don’t know, a soufflé by accident.”

“Pretty sure pancakes aren’t supposed to turn into soufflés,” you reply, laughing as you hand him a mixing bowl.

Tony takes it with exaggerated caution, as though it might explode. “Alright, boss. Tell me what to do.”

You start instructing him step by step, trying to keep it as simple as possible. Crack the eggs. Add the flour. Measure the milk. It seems to go well at first—until Tony decides to get creative.

“Shouldn’t we add something extra?” he asks, glancing at the spice rack. “Cinnamon? Nutmeg? A splash of whiskey?”

“Whiskey? It’s eight in the morning,” you say, snatching the bottle out of his hand before he can pour it into the batter.

“Never too early for innovation,” he argues, grinning as he sets the whiskey down. “Alright, no booze. But we’re definitely adding chocolate chips.”

You roll your eyes but let him sprinkle a handful of chocolate chips into the batter, which he does with far too much enthusiasm. His “help” becomes increasingly questionable as you move to mix everything together, his hands finding more excuses to end up on your waist, your shoulders, or brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Tony,” you warn as his arms snake around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. “If you don’t let me stir this, you’re not getting pancakes.”

“But you’re doing so well without me,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. “I’m supervising.”

“Your supervision is going to make me spill this everywhere,” you say, laughing as you try to keep the bowl steady.

“I’d argue that’s part of the fun,” he counters, but he relents, stepping back just enough to let you finish mixing.

When it’s finally time to cook, you heat the griddle and ladle the batter onto it, the sizzle filling the air. Tony insists on flipping the pancakes, despite your skepticism.

“Just watch,” he says confidently, spatula in hand. “I’ve seen a hundred YouTube videos on this. I’ve got the wrist action down.”

You cross your arms, watching as he slides the spatula under a pancake and attempts to flip it with a flourish. The pancake arcs through the air—almost gracefully—before landing halfway on the griddle and halfway on the counter.

Tony stares at it for a moment, then turns to you with an unapologetic grin. “See? Perfect.”

“Perfectly disastrous,” you correct, grabbing a paper towel to clean up the mess. “Let me handle the flipping.”

“Fine,” he says, stepping back. “But only because I don’t want to overshadow your skills.”

By the time you’ve finished, the kitchen looks like a flour bomb exploded. There’s batter smudged on the counter, chocolate chips scattered across the floor, and Tony has somehow managed to get a streak of flour across his cheek.

“You’re a menace,” you say, laughing as you reach up to wipe the flour from his face.

“I’m adorable,” he counters, catching your wrist and pulling you closer. “And you love me.”

You roll your eyes but don’t deny it, especially when he leans in to kiss you. His lips taste faintly of chocolate, and his stubble tickles your skin. It’s the kind of kiss that makes you forget the mess, the pancakes, and everything else except the two of you.

When you finally pull away, you’re both grinning like idiots.

“Alright,” you say, clearing your throat. “Let’s see if we actually made something edible.”

The pancakes are far from perfect—slightly misshapen and a little unevenly cooked—but they taste good enough, especially with a generous drizzle of syrup. You sit together at the island, plates in hand, as snow falls softly outside the windows.

Tony nudges you with his elbow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “See? I told you we’d make a good team.”

“You mean I made the pancakes and you got in the way?” you tease.

“Semantics,” he says, taking another bite. “The important thing is, we survived. And the pancakes are edible. Mostly.”

You laugh, shaking your head as he leans over to steal a kiss, syrup and all. It’s messy and chaotic and far from perfect, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Because with Tony, even the simplest moments—like making pancakes on a snowy December morning—feel like magic.

“Alright, genius,” you say, stacking the plates in the sink and turning to face Tony, who’s leaning casually against the counter, his coffee mug in one hand. “Breakfast mission accomplished. What’s next?”

He sets the mug down with exaggerated importance, his brown eyes twinkling with mischief. “My turn to pick. Pancakes were your idea; now I get to call the shots.”

You raise an eyebrow, already suspicious. “That’s fair. But if you’re about to suggest working in the lab or something involving an explosion—”

“Relax,” he interrupts, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “No gadgets. No explosions. Just a simple, low-tech activity that even you’ll approve of.”

You cross your arms, trying not to smile. “I’m listening.”

Tony steps closer, his grin widening. “We’re going to cuddle on the couch and watch one of those absolutely atrocious, cliché Christmas movies that are so bad they’re good.”

“Tony Stark wants to watch a cheesy Christmas movie?” you ask, feigning disbelief. “Who are you, and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

“Hey, I have layers,” he says, pretending to be offended. “Besides, the movies aren’t for me. They’re for you. I’m just the selfless guy who’ll hold you through the ridiculous love triangles, improbable snowstorms, and overacting.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Fine. But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly. Blankets, snacks, and no interruptions.”

Tony salutes you. “Yes, ma’am.”

True to his word, Tony transforms the living room into a cozy oasis. He grabs every blanket he can find, piling them onto the couch with dramatic flair, while you raid the kitchen for snacks. When you return with a bowl of popcorn and a tin of Christmas cookies, Tony is already sprawled out on the couch, patting the spot beside him.

“Get over here,” he says, his tone playfully demanding. “I’m sacrificing my cool reputation for this. You owe me cuddles.”

“Sacrificing your cool reputation?” you tease, settling in beside him. “Pretty sure that went out the window the moment you flipped a pancake onto the counter.”

He narrows his eyes at you but doesn’t argue, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “Pick your poison,” he says, handing you the remote.

You scroll through the seemingly endless options of holiday movies until you find one with a laughably predictable title. “How about Snowed In for Christmas?”

Tony groans theatrically. “Do you try to find the most ridiculous ones, or is it just a gift?”

“You said cheesy,” you remind him, pressing play before he can protest further.

The movie is every bit as absurd as you’d hoped. The plot revolves around a big-city journalist who gets stranded in a small, snow-covered town, where she falls in love with the ruggedly handsome owner of a struggling Christmas tree farm. Every trope in the book is present: the meddling townsfolk, the magical snowstorm, and, of course, the inevitable misunderstanding that threatens to ruin everything right before Christmas Eve.

Tony provides running commentary throughout, his dry humor making you laugh so hard you nearly spill the popcorn.

“Wait, wait,” he says, sitting up slightly. “Did she just quit her high-paying job in New York to stay in the town she’s been in for, what, a week? Who does that? Do people not have bills in these movies?”

“It’s called romance, Tony,” you reply, nudging him with your elbow. “Suspend your disbelief.”

“Fine,” he says, leaning back again. “But I’m just saying, if you ever ditch me for a lumberjack with a secret heart of gold, I’m suing Hallmark for emotional damages.”

“Noted,” you reply, laughing as he pulls you closer, his hand resting on your knee.

By the time the credits roll, you’re both in stitches, wiping tears of laughter from your eyes. “That was… something,” Tony says, shaking his head. “If my A.I. ever wrote a script like that, I’d have to reprogram it.”

“You loved it,” you counter, snuggling into his side. “Admit it.”

“I loved you laughing at it,” he says, kissing the top of your head. “But the movie? Eh, I’d give it two out of five stars. One of those stars is for the accidental comedy.”

You roll your eyes, but before you can argue, Tony grabs the remote and starts scrolling again. “Alright, my turn. Let’s find another one.”

“Another Christmas movie?” you ask, surprised.

“Don’t look so shocked,” he says, smirking. “I’ve got the spirit now. I’m all in.”

The next movie is somehow even cheesier, involving a magical ornament that grants wishes and an overworked single dad who learns the true meaning of Christmas. Tony is relentless with his commentary, but somewhere around the halfway mark, his snarky remarks grow quieter. His hand strokes lazy circles on your back, and his head tilts until his cheek rests against the top of your head.

“Getting sleepy?” you ask softly.

“Not sleepy,” he mumbles, his voice low and warm. “Just... comfy. You make everything feel... easy.”

Your heart melts a little at his honesty. For all his bravado, Tony has a way of surprising you with these moments of unguarded vulnerability. You turn your head to kiss his jaw, your fingers curling around his.

“Love you,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiles, his lips brushing your forehead. “Love you more.”

The movie plays on in the background, but neither of you is paying attention anymore. The world outside the penthouse fades away as you bask in the quiet intimacy of the moment—just you, Tony, and the flickering glow of the Christmas tree lights.

Hours later, when the snow outside has turned the city into a winter wonderland, you wake to find Tony still holding you, his breathing slow and even. The credits of the third movie you didn’t realize you started are rolling, and the room is bathed in a soft, golden glow.

You shift slightly, and Tony stirs, blinking sleepily. “Mmm. Did we win Christmas yet?” he asks, his voice thick with sleep.

“You fell asleep during the movie,” you tease, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

“Only because you’re too comfortable,” he says, pulling you back down into his arms. “Don’t think you’re going anywhere. I’m holding you hostage for the rest of the day.”

You smile, resting your head on his chest and letting the rhythm of his heartbeat lull you into contentment. If this is what being held hostage by Tony Stark feels like, you’re more than happy to surrender.

And as the snow continues to fall outside, blanketing the city in quiet magic, you can’t think of a single place you’d rather be.

When you finally stir from your cozy spot on the couch, the afternoon sunlight is already streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The snowy city below looks like a scene straight out of a Christmas card, and the twinkling lights of the decorated streets are just beginning to glow as dusk approaches.

“Alright,” you say, stretching as you stand. “We’ve been lazy long enough. Let’s go out.”

Tony, still sprawled out on the couch like a contented house cat, raises an eyebrow. “Out? In this weather? Have you seen what’s happening out there? There’s snow, Y/N. Cold, wet snow.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “It’s December, Tony. Snow is kind of the whole point. Besides, you owe me.”

“For what?”

“For all the Christmas cheer you’ve been soaking up without lifting a finger,” you tease, pulling on his hand to get him to sit up. “Come on. We’ll stop by that coffee shop you like. They’ve got peppermint mochas.”

His eyes narrow suspiciously, but you can see the faint flicker of temptation. “You’re using coffee as bait.”

“And it’s working,” you counter, grinning as you toss him his coat. “Get dressed, Stark. We’re going.”

Fifteen minutes later, you’re walking hand-in-hand through the snowy streets of Manhattan, the air crisp and cold but not unpleasant. True to your promise, you stop at Tony’s favorite coffee shop, where the barista greets him with a starstruck smile and immediately starts preparing his usual order.

“I have to admit,” Tony says as he takes a sip of his peppermint mocha, “this is a solid bribe.”

“You’re welcome,” you reply, your own cup warming your hands as you lead him down the street.

But as you take a turn onto a quieter, festively lit avenue, Tony slows down, his eyes narrowing. “Wait a second. This isn’t the way home.”

“No, it’s not,” you say, your voice innocently cheerful.

He stops in his tracks, glancing up at the string lights crisscrossing above the cobblestone path ahead. The street is lined with rows of wooden stalls, each one festooned with garlands and wreaths. The scent of roasted chestnuts and cinnamon wafts through the air, mingling with the sounds of Christmas carols being played by a nearby quartet.

Tony looks at you, a mix of amusement and betrayal in his expression. “You tricked me.”

“I prefer to think of it as gently guiding you toward holiday spirit,” you say with a grin. “Come on. It’s just a Christmas market. Think of all the overpriced, handmade trinkets we can buy.”

“I’m not carrying bags,” he warns, even as he lets you tug him forward into the bustling market.

Despite his initial protests, Tony doesn’t seem to mind as you wander from stall to stall. The two of you weave through the crowd, pausing occasionally to admire the glittering ornaments, intricately carved wooden figurines, and colorful knitted scarves on display.

Tony keeps a protective hand on your back, steering you gently through the throng of people. Every so often, someone stops to ask for a selfie with him, and he obliges with surprising patience, though not without a few snarky comments.

“See?” you whisper after the third fan walks away, beaming from their encounter. “The Christmas market isn’t so bad, is it?”

Tony gives you a sideways glance, his lips twitching into a half-smile. “It’s tolerable. Mostly because of you.”

You beam at him, squeezing his hand. “I’ll take it.”

As the sky darkens and the market’s lights grow brighter, the atmosphere becomes even more magical. Snowflakes drift lazily from the sky, landing softly on Tony’s dark hair and your scarf. You stop at a stall selling mulled wine, and Tony buys you a steaming cup, his free hand still intertwined with yours.

“This is suspiciously romantic,” he remarks, his voice teasing as you take a sip of the warm, spiced drink.

“Suspiciously?” you echo, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah,” he says, smirking. “It’s almost like you planned it.”

“Almost?” you tease back. “Tony Stark, are you implying that I orchestrated an entire romantic outing just to make you enjoy Christmas?”

“I’m saying it’s diabolical,” he replies, leaning in to kiss the tip of your cold nose. “And I’m impressed.”

As you continue strolling, you stop in front of a stall selling Christmas decorations. The display is dazzling, filled with glass ornaments, sparkling tinsel, and miniature wreaths. You let go of Tony’s hand to pick up a delicate, hand-painted ornament shaped like a snowflake.

“This one’s pretty,” you say, holding it up to show him.

Tony eyes it, then glances back at you. “We already have a tree. We don’t need more decorations.”

You put the ornament back with a sigh, turning to face him. “Tony, the tree is literally the only festive thing in the entire penthouse. It’s sad. Like, single-guy-who-forgets-it’s-Christmas sad.”

“I was a single guy who forgot it was Christmas,” he points out.

“Exactly!” you exclaim, grabbing his arm. “But you’re not anymore. We live there together now, and I want it to feel like home—not just for me, but for you too.”

Tony hesitates, his expression softening as he watches you. Finally, he sighs in mock defeat. “Alright, you win. But I’m not carrying boxes of decorations.”

“That’s what delivery services are for,” you reply, grinning as you pull him toward the stall.

An hour later, the two of you are laden with bags containing everything from garlands to fairy lights to an assortment of quirky ornaments you couldn’t resist. Tony insists on buying a ridiculous set of baubles shaped like miniature Iron Man helmets, claiming they’re “for balance.”

As you make your way back home, you can’t help but smile at the sight of him carrying one of the bags, his usual swagger intact despite the snow and the festive chaos around him.

“You’re smiling,” he notes, glancing down at you.

“You let me drag you to a Christmas market and convinced you to buy decorations,” you say, leaning into his side. “I think I’ve earned a smile.”

Tony chuckles, slipping an arm around your shoulders. “Fair enough. But just so you know, this doesn’t mean I’ve gone full holiday enthusiast. I’m still the same, cool, non-cheesy Tony Stark.”

“Sure you are,” you reply, smirking.

When you finally reach the penthouse, the two of you dump your bags on the living room floor and collapse onto the couch. Tony kicks off his shoes and stretches out, pulling you down beside him.

“You know,” he says, his voice soft as he glances at the tree in the corner, “you were right. The tree looked a little lonely.”

You smile, resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s going to look perfect once we put everything up.”

Tony kisses the top of your head, his arm tightening around you. “If it makes you happy, then it’s worth it.”

As the snow continues to fall outside, you sit together, the glow of the tree lights casting a warm, golden hue over the room. For all his grumbling and sarcasm, Tony Stark has embraced the holiday spirit in his own way—and you couldn’t love him more for it.

[nerdasaurus1200]

It took WAY too long to do this but I’m finally doing an analysis of Hunter regaining control against Belos! Arguably one of his best scenes in the entire show.

I honestly forgot just how chilling Belos’s expression is here as he drains Flapjack’s energy. This is just pure wickedness; in his mind he’s probably killing three birds with one stone (or one hand in this case). He gets to punish Hunter, he gets to finally “erase” Evelyn’s memory, and he gets to fuel himself for the first time in months.

And god, poor Hunter, when starts to regain control he is HORRIFIED by what he’s just done. You can tell this is really a breaking point for Hunter, he loves Flapjack so much that Belos hurting him was enough to get Hunter to fight back. A really interesting thing I just noticed upon rewatching it is how the hands actually reflect both Belos and Hunter. The right hand, Belos, is more monstrous while the left hand is more human. Which is honestly genius cause for a long time right handedness was seen as more holy and pure but in this case it’s a subversion of that. The “demonic” hand is stopping the “holy” hand from causing more harm.

Which makes the following struggle hurt even more cause look

That’s Hunter’s side, the hand he has control over. He’s punching his own body in a desperate attempt to get Belos out of it.

And the look on Hunter’s face. The poor boy is clearly in so much shock trying to reclaim his own body. It’s taking a really heavy toll on him both mentally and physically.

“You know what I’d like Belos?”

But then ooooh, the righteous rage, the conviction and yet the softness as Hunter finally speaks up. The million dollar question that Belos never cared about, but it almost doesn’t matter. Because Hunter is in control now and for once Belos is the one who’s gonna shut up and listen.

And Hunter begins to tell Belos off. Because despite how taxing this must be for him, he still has a mission. He knows he has to get rid of the titan’s blood so Belos won’t win, because for Flapjack’s sake and for his sake and for Caleb’s sake Belos CAN’T win. It’s interesting how Hunter makes a point about mentioning the throne room, it makes me think that most if not all his trauma took place there. Witnessing Belos’s tantrums and even being on the recieving end of them sometimes if that scar is anything to go by.

And as Hunter continues it takes a more simple and rebellious turn. Deep down now all Hunter wants is to just be a normal teenager. He wants to learn the things he’s never been allowed to, he wants to play, he wants to spend time with his friends. There’s no way he doesn’t know how much this pisses Belos off cause it goes against everything he’s been trying to do for Hunter. For each Grimwalker before him Belos has tried so hard to keep them isolated from people and fearful of wild magic, keep them under his thumb. But not Hunter. No, Hunter will be the one to survive. He’ll be the Grimwalker that gets to do all those things and actually live a life of his own.

And this part actually breaks my heart the most as Hunter says his final request and goes for the Titan’s Blood. I think the scar growing on his face is actually fully Belos, trying to either regain control or “punish” Hunter for his “insolence”.

And another thing that’s heartbreaking is Hunter’s selflessness within it. Cause he doesn’t wanna make sure he’s not hurt anymore, it’s deeper than that. He doesn’t want anyone to be hurt by Belos anymore, he’s just encompassing himself into anyone. Cause at the and of the day that’s where Hunter differs from Belos, he genuinely wants to help people for the greater good.