#hi mars mwah

[agonizedembrace]

despite   his   best   attempts   to   pull   his   appearance   into   at   least   half   of   a   living   person   ,   he   still   looks   like   crap   .   so   much   for   being   evelynn’s   ‘   number   one   model   ‘   (   although   in   his   retreat   from   the   public   eye   ,   he   had   met   her   insistence   to   model   for   her   with   growing   and   continuous   refusal   until   she   had   eventually   given   up   —   either   realizing   that   the   slump   that   had   stolen   away   his   drive   for   barely   anything   more   than   the   act   of   breathing   was   more   serious   than   she   had   originally   thought   ,   or   perhaps   simply   thinking   that   there   was   no   profit   or   allure   to   be   found   in   his   depression   )   .

a   favour   is   what   he   is   asking   for   now   ,   though   as   he   sits   in   his   chair   ,   worry   laces   and   re-laces   between   the fingers of his   fidgety   hands   .   worry   that   she   will   turn   him   away   .   ❛   i   …   need   to   …   not   look   like   i   just   crawled   out   of   a   hole   .   ❜   sure   ,   he   had   the   funds   and   sense   to   figure   things   out   for   himself   without   having   to   rely   on   anyone   else   ,   but   it   had   felt   …   right   to   come   to   evelynn   first   .   a   favour   is   what   he   is   asking   for   now   ,   but   perhaps   it   is   for   more   than   just   that   that   he   worries   now   .   an   attempt   to   reconnect   with   a   colleague   and   friend   .   ❛   i’ll   model   for   you   however   you’d   like   ,   if   you   can   make   that   happen   .   ❜  

thought   about   …   yone   being   depressed   between   ocean   song   and   heart-steel   and   trying   to   come   out   of   his   isolation   and   wanting   to   clean   himself   up   so   that   he   can   officially   mark   this   as   a   new   beginning   …   wanting   to   reconnect   with   evelynn   and   other   relationships   he’s   withdrawn   from   in   his   depression

is it sympathy that lingers in her gaze?

for what was once a savory taste, one so easily consumable by a mere glance -- such sourness lingers now. it is not typical for evelynn to even care; for her to express and hold worry over a human that isn't well... akali (or robin, but perhaps that one is more well known). yet as he sits before her, undoubtedly festering within such negative emotions, that is causes even the demon to take a second glance. and for her to further wonder: what happened?

surely, the answer should be simple: the music industry is not kind. much alike her, she'd argue on any other day. remaining on top of the throne is not a luxury most artists hold, and perhaps that is why she extended her hand for yone to model for her. personal greed aside, back then she knew she pushed away a deeper feeling -- one that made her humane -- and oh is it returning full force now. it grips her, vexing almost, and all she can do is release a sigh.

it is difficult to drown away the natural, hungry thoughts that claw at her own mind: THEY ALWAYS COME BACK FOR MORE.

"luckily for you, darling, i was in need for someone to ... test some new designs." frightening only at face value, for her tone is light -- tender even. it takes a moment, but she finally does shift from her closed off posture. arms unravel, yet they do not reach. "perhaps some layers, a few streaks. hm, a new color altogether wouldn't do you bad."

finally she flashes a smile.

not sinister, not hungry; but genuine. kind. an action that very few see. one that even less believe to be possible.

"i can make anything happen," idly, evelynn cannot help but wonder how many are unaware of how true her statement really is. her hand reaches out, palm up and awaiting for him to accept. it is as much as his choice as her's. "but, let's not worry about any sort of payment, love. come with me to the penthouse?"

[skullsandcorals]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @kill-cry-die !!! 🎉✨ I hope you have a STELLAR birthday, my beloved 🥰🩷

(click for better quality if you're on the mobile app. don't repost.)

[spirithunts]

sitting   across   from   her   on   set   ,   yone   looks   between   the   camera   and   ahri   before   looking   back   down   at   the   list   of   questions   that   had   been   given   to   him   .   a   brow   lifts   as   he   scans   the   following   line   ,   laugh   of   disbelief   spilling   forth   from   lips   as   he   raises   both   hand   to   chin   and   eyes   to   hers   :   ❛   how   embarrassing   …   you   probably   didn’t   expect   me   to   be   the   one   asking   you   this   question   ,   but   ——   who   is   your   favourite   heartsteel   member   ?   ❜ 

what   a   load   of   crap   ;   anyone   could   tell   the   question   for   what   it   was   ——   a   prompt   planted   to   stir   up   attention   and   speculation   between   their   respective   fanbases   .   although   he   has   full   faith   in   her   ability   to   deflect   or   answer   without   difficulty   ,   if   there   was   a   way   to   at   least   telepathically   communicate   his   own   unhappiness   and   sympathy   for   the   senior   popstar   ,   he   would   .   there   is   fatigue   in   his   bones   and   fatigue   beneath   the   polite   expression   he   shows   for   the   cameras   .   he   tilts   his   head   ,   hands   folding   neatly   before   him   as he offers good-natured chuckle .   ❛   is   it   right   for   me   to   even   guess   ?   i   think   that   everyone   in   heartsteel   brings   their   unique   merits   and   charms   to   the   table   .   ❜

» — IN CHARACTER ASKS!  

— @windchaser

The subtle smile that plays upon her lips is practiced enough to no longer seem practiced. For one who truly knew her, beyond cameras and stages, it would be noticeable that it does not reach the popstar's eyes sincerely as the camera focuses on them. Only briefly does it shine with honesty (and sympathy), softened as her blue eyes meet Yone's gaze. It wouldn't take being able to sense emotions to know he is deeply unhappy with this poor attempt at stirring rumors and potential drama. 

She knows the feeling well.

But this isn't her first time dealing with pathetic attempts at profiting from rumors — at profiting from people as if they were made to entertain, their true feelings and thoughts irrelevant. Ahri always regrets not being quite as abrasive as Evelynn, in moments like this; her friend would speak her mind and criticize the question unafraid of repercussions, truly. But it isn't the way she is, and at any rate, the popstar can't see her colleague being all too happy with it either. Yone does not seem to want to make it into something bigger than it ought to be, and they are surely in agreement on that.

 Safe as her reply might be, it would only be deemed boring if Ahri didn't deliver it right. With enough charm, it is but what the public would expect from her: not hesitant and appeasing, but earnest, perhaps even sweet. Sincere, too. She doesn't have a favorite; she knows them all too superficially for it. She does, however, appreciate their creativity and the unique talent each of them adds to the group. It reminds her of K/DA, in a way, and it's enough to make her somewhat fond of the so-called boyband.

"This is definitely a question that is harder to answer when posed by one of Heartsteel's members," The lightness of her voice is accompanied by a smile, an airy giggle following the commentary. It flows easily into the next part of her reply, casual as she shifts in her seat and tosses blonde-pink hair over her shoulders. "But you guessed right. I think each of you is uniquely talented, and the combination of your strengths is what leads Heartsteel's work to be so special. I truly couldn't answer differently when that's also how I see K/DA. When I sought the girls to form the group, I knew our different personalities and tastes would make us better, and that is also the case for Heartsteel, from what we could see of your work so far."

"Between your organization and guidance, Sett's powerful presence, Kayn's attitude, Aphelios' creative genius, K'Sante's charm, and Ezreal's brilliance you have a team full of great talents, bold and ready to show all you got. It would be impossible to pick one — I'm really just excited to see what else you guys will create together in the future." The dazzling smile that follows conceals uneasiness; she hates the implication of pressure for more work, newer content, the way everyone always expects more and more and more, even when these expectations are born of love. To repeat it to another leaves her bitter, no matter how careful in her wording she is to avoid suggesting that; it feels like just playing a part, once again, as they all have to do, to some extent, as she always despises doing, even when complying. Not anything anyone would notice — especially not with how she decided to close her answer. "Really, how could I pick only one when I hope we can gather everyone in Heartsteel and K/DA for a collab one day?"

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

hi eggie i adore you

[deathdxnces]

❛ i thought you’d like some company . ❜  thought about vayne and irelia getting into an argument and yone coming to talk to irelia while she's taking a breather ..

— @windchaser

Looking through the glass door, one might mistake her stillness for calm. Irelia leans over the balcony, chin resting on one of her hands; yet her expression betrays how she truly feels, sullenness manifesting even in her refusal to spare a glance at whoever approaches when first hearing their footsteps.

Disagreements aren't rare — or an issue by virtue of being. With so many different people working together, they are bound to not see everything eye to eye. That isn't the problem, nor is it any ridiculous notion that she feels entitled to make every decision on her own (an accusation she didn't take to lightly, nor one that would be easily forgotten). The problem is Vayne, who had accused her of that, despite her own unwillingness to find a middle ground or actually listen to what anyone else had to say.

It had taken little more for the argument to escalate, until interference led to a forced break, both of them going opposite ways. The gentle wind that meets her outside is soothing in a way, but most of all is the being alone that truly helps; she's in no mood for prickly commentary or teasing of any sort. Truth be told, Irelia thinks the most well-meaning of approaches would still find her all too ready to lash out.

When Yone speaks, it disarms her readiness to meet company with aggression. She remains uncertain that having anyone around is ideal, not knowing if she can manage it without finding further reason to be irritated, despite knowing none of it is her friend's fault. But there's something comforting about it, too. He took the time to seek her out and make sure she was fine; and maybe it's just the sense of familiarity, the fact she has known Yone for some time, now, and that he knows her also. There is no pressure to be perfect; in that case, company might be better than dwelling on her anger all alone.

"If you can handle me being insufferable," the attempt at lightheartedness falls flat; she isn't in the mood for jokes, despite the attempt. When she continues, it is more truthful. "I'll be terrible company right now."

"Or I am always terrible company, maybe, if I am as overbearing as Vayne accused me of being," Bitterness seeps into her tone, regardless of her best efforts to keep her anger in check. Irelia shakes her head, a deep breath taken as her gaze returns to the horizon rather than stay upon Yone. "I wasn't making choices, I was presenting ideas. I never wanted to choose everything on my own, that's not — that was never what I meant," He asked for no explanation, and yet she feels compelled to defend herself nevertheless (to seek support, perhaps, in even the smallest reassurance someone else knew that was not the case). "Not that she cares to listen to what anyone has to say if they disagree with her."

[dilvei]

Can you make yandere male dark prince who notices that his male fiance tries to run away from him?

𝐰𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 ( y! dark prince x m! fiancée reader )

yandere! prince x male! fiancée reader

warnings:

attempted murder

slight animal cruelty

choking

biting/marking

mention of blood

thank you for requesting <3 this went to a much darker route than intended tbh, because this guy kept getting worse in each draft I wrote lmfao. hopefully, you enjoy this since you did specify that the prince had a dark personality mwah mwah 💐💐 ( also imagine the face claim above has a big scar on the left side of the face heh ) 😈

big thanks to @kierahn for beta reading this for me <3 would not have noticed that much mistakes oof. 🌈🌈 kier writes yummy male reader stuff too so check out their blog guys! 💗💗💗💗

✾ | an arranged marriage comes with all sorts of expectations, especially when one is betrothed to a prince from a far larger, wealthier kingdom; his realm abound with riches and harvests, while yours struggle even to survive the winter.

✾ | the arrangement was made when you were both children. in exchange for this future union, your kingdom receives substantial aid from the neighboring realm, including its wealth and crops to sustain your people.

✾ | naturally, everyone was overjoyed by this news. a sad thing it is then, that the prince you are to marry falls short of your expectations.

✾ | not that he wasn't a handsome boy—the second prince is actually a bit more handsome than his elder brother—but the fact that he tried to kill you the first time you met him overshadowed any charm he might have possessed.

✾ | your memory blurs as to how it all went so, so wrong, but it's safe to say that it started when the prince, Lucien, held a small bird between his palms.

✾ | it was a cute little thing, as small as a teacup, with baby blue wings and a stout beak that chirped so sweetly as it looked up at the two of you.

✾ | you recall expressing a desire to keep it, to have its sweet chirping greet you each morning as a reminder of this meeting you share with him—you did not realize what a mistake it was to say such a thing.

✾ | with a fond smile directed at you, Lucien snapped the bird’s wing bone, ignoring its agonized cries as droplets of blood seeped through his small, boyish fingers.

✾ | you saw red. you pounced, lunging at Lucien. your nails scratched at his arms as he finally lets go of the bird, letting it fall to the ground.

✾ | he blinked, confused. “why?” he asked, dodging a blow. he didn’t understand why you were so angry, but you didn’t care to explain.

✾ | the two of you brawled, rolling on the ground as dirt and blood mixed together. but then, lucien grabbed a rock. he hesitated, if only for a moment.

✾ | you dodged, but not fast enough. a sharp pain tore through the corner of your lip, leaving a dark red gash blooming on the right side of your face.

✾ | the pain was sharp, but the sight of Lucien’s detached expression hurt more.

✾ | as anger welled up inside you, you reached for a rock of your own, gripping it tightly as you quickly decided to return the favor back to your future husband.

✾ | the stone connected with Lucien’s left cheek, and he screamed, staggering back. blood gushed down his face, a jagged cut marring his skin, the tip of it almost reaching his left eye.

✾ | the bird’s pained cries was the only sound that dared to break the uneasy silence that followed.

✾ | when your parents, and his, finally discovered the state the two of you were in, it was a truly a miracle in itself that the agreement continued, much to your overwhelming surprise.

✾ | you had no idea that it was Lucien himself who insisted on keeping the arrangement intact. you did not see the dark, almost hungry stare the boy directed at you as you gently picked up the silent bird.

✾ | years passed, seven to be exact, and the time has finally come for you to marry Lucien in a week’s time.

✾ | throughout the years, you’ve kept a close watch on him through your network of spies. and well, the reports have not been favorable, to say the least.

✾ | they say many things about him, but you grasp the essence of it quickly enough. how violence is etched into his very soul, how hatred always lingered on the tip of his tongue, how cruelty danced gleefully at the center of his heart.

✾ | the ugly scar on his face matched his equally ugly personality quite well, they say. and if you were a better man, you would have, perhaps, disagreed at such slander. but in the end, you only let a mirthful laugh escape your lips.

✾ | to be forever bound to such a person… you can’t even bear to imagine something so repulsive. there is no way you'll allow yourself to be married off to such a cruel, unpredictable man.

✾ | you seek to escape from this sham of an arrangement, but your parents refused to listen, and you don't think his will either. so in the end, running away seems like the best option available, and with what remains of your time, you plan.

✾ | there is much fanfare the day you and your family arrive in the neighboring kingdom, a day before the wedding. and while your family appears joyous at this, you feel the exact opposite.

✾ | when you finally set foot inside the palace, you find it amusing that his parents, with tired expressions, immediately inform you that the second prince cannot be found and that you will meet him at dinner instead.

✾ | you have an inkling of his whereabouts, thanks to the rumors you’ve heard countless times. at this hour, Lucien would most likely be in the brothels, sating his boredom to everyone's utter exhaustion and dismay.

✾ | but what you don’t understand are the strange rumors that he would always choose those who look most… like you. unsure of how to process this information, you’ve always chosen to ignore it.

✾ | as dinner time approaches, the table is set with dishes as lavish as you imagined, smoky meat, delicious gravy, and an array of mouthwatering sides.

✾ | a shame that you lost your appetite the moment you set eyes on the man that will become your future husband—a fate you’re determined to change, no matter what it takes.

✾ | although rumors depict your future husband as a scarred man, the scar you inflicted only accentuates his handsome features. it is infuriating, to say the least.

✾ | and though his appearance may have changed significantly, you have no doubt that he still harbors the same cruelty as the boy you met seven years ago.

✾ | and you stand corrected, as that night, he visits you in your chambers, shrouded in darkness, just as you were preparing to escape.

The first thing he says to you is your name.

"[Name]."

His voice is low, like the soft rumble of distant thunder, and you frown as your hands tighten around the bag full of your belongings—the very bag you were preparing to carry with you on your escape.

"Leaving so soon?" he continues when you make no sound to reply, taking a slow, deliberate step closer, and then another, until he stands right in front of you. "Without... me?"

He towers over you, easily.

You purse your lip, defiantly raising your chin as your mind scrambles for a way to escape him, to escape Lucien. "And why would you even care? We're practically strangers at best." And enemies at worst. For you have scarred each other, permanently marked the other with a wound that will never fade.

"Of course I care. We are to wed tomorrow. I will be yours, and you will be mine,” he says, the words settling between you like a promise, like a binding chain.

You scoff in disgust. "Wedding? Oh, please, this arrangement means nothing to us!" You stare into his eyes, blue as the deepest part of the midnight ocean. "You don't love me, Lucien, and I certainly don't love you."

Suddenly, his hand shoots out to grip onto yours, forcing you to release your bag. The strength of his grip hurts.

“You— Let go!” you shout, struggling against the pressure of his hold.

Lucien leans in, his breath eerily mingling with yours. This close, you can see the scar more clearly—an ugly, jagged line marring his otherwise unblemished, smooth skin.

“Do not put false words on my lips, [Name].” His tone carries the soft amusement of a gentle lover, yet there’s an unmistakable undertone—a dark compulsion, an obsession that lies right beneath the surface. “When have I ever said that I do not love you?”

Those words chill you to the core more than the coldest night winds ever could, settling into your bones with a penetrating dread that refuses to dissipate.

You can't believe what you're hearing. You can't believe his words. And so you say the only thing that comes to mind even though you know that it isn't true.

"You lie, Lucien."

He grips you tighter.

"You are a liar," you snarl, "and you are a fool if you think I would ever believe such a thing. Did you really think… those words would sway me? You think I haven't heard of your constant visits to those brothels?!"

Unexpectedly, his other hand moves to thread through your hair, soothing, but also unmistakably mocking, highlighted by the faux smile adorned on his face.

You allow it to happen, even though his every touch feels like a dangerous gamble. Because you know the man in front of you has grown to become the worst version of himself.

"I missed you. I could not have you, not yet anyway, so I sought what was available to me. I would not tarnish you, not until our wedding night," he says.

"Lies. Lies. Lies. Are you mocking me, Lucien? Are you? Just how naive do you think I am? Just how foolish? Such words do not soothe me. It is the exact opposite!"

You move, whispering into his ear. "Your very presence disgust me."

Suddenly, his fingers tighten in your hair, pulling your faces closer as pain shoots through your scalp, causing your breath to hitch. "Making me angry will not change my mind, [Name]."

"I don't care how you fucking feel. I'm leaving!" you say as you push against him with your hand, demanding him to release you.

He does, but both his hands swiftly shift to your neck, tightening around it and choking you as you now struggle to breathe.

"You can't leave. Don't be stupid. There's no boat waiting for you outside these walls. No one out there will help you escape," he whispers slowly. "Not when they're all dead, that is."

Shit. How did he know that? You've always been careful with your plans, and this one has been the most careful yet. Has he been keeping tabs on you without you knowing?

"It’s not fair, [Name]. I’ve waited a long time for you. I’ve been patient, have I not? I haven’t taken you away from your kingdom because of this patience. I’ve endured your cruel jeers because of this patience.”

He slams you onto the bed, his hand still painfully stealing your breath away. You claw at his grip, panic consuming your mind, but Lucien remains indifferent to your struggle, his expression cold and unyielding as he watches your desperate attempts to break free.

“I’ve been patient, because when we finally wed—and oh we will—you will be entirely mine.”

You don’t understand his persistence. Why is he so fixated on this? He can’t possibly want to marry you—he just can’t.

With all the strength you can muster, you punch him squarely in the face, hitting the scar you left him with years ago. He groans and releases you.

You sit up, clutching your throat as you struggle to speak. “Are you insane? You tried to kill me years ago! Why would I want to marry you, you lunatic?”

He lunges at you.

All of it is a blur of pain and punches, but the outcome is clear in the end—you’ve lost. Now, he looms over you on the bed, his fingers jammed painfully down your throat, silencing any further protests.

When you move to bite his fingers, he thrusts them deeper, choking you and cutting off your airflow once again.

"Don’t say such mean things to me, [Name]. I don’t like hearing them. And I’m certain you wouldn’t like it either if you were in my position.”

Tears well up in the corners of your eyes as you kick and punch desperately, struggling against his unyielding grip.

Lucien suddenly shifts his position, his expression darkening with a predatory focus.

Then— he sinks his teeth into your throat with a savage intensity. Blood wells up and spills over, warm and sticky against your skin. You scream at the sensation.

He licks the crimson liquid with a slow, deliberate motion, savoring the taste of you.

"This is where you belong, [Name]. Beneath me, and all, all mine—only mine. You were promised to me and I will not let anything get in the way of that."

The pleasure in his eyes is twisted, and then his teeth press deeper, the pain more insistent, sending shivers through your body.

He pulls back momentarily, his tongue tracing the bloody trail he has left.

As he licks the wound clean, a shocking realization flickers across his face. A laugh escapes him, first soft and incredulous, then growing louder and louder, mocking you.

Lucien grins.

“Well, would you look at that? You’re hard too,” he says, his tone fond. "I knew it. I always knew you were the one."

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your bloodied skin. You try to reply, but only a groan escapes as his finger still presses deeply into your throat.

"It’s a shame, but we should save that for tomorrow, beloved. Our true kiss should also be for then." He licks your neck again, and you shiver. "I’ve been patient for long. I can wait another day.”

And finally— he lets go.

You cough, stifling the urge to vomit as he slowly backs away from you in unhinged glee. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, oh future husband of mine.”

( It’s fine that you do not love him; he has made peace with that. Lucien knows that he can love enough for the both of you. )

As he finally leaves your room, an eerie silence fills your mind. Your body is wracked with chills, and sweat runs down your back as you close your eyes.

One thing is certain: You need a new plan, and fast.

[veronicawildest]

SIDEREAL / VEDIC ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS #5

disclaimer: all of my observations comes from my observations on celebrities and my social circle who has this nakshatras. if you're offended just block me mwah 💋💋💋

THE FAME PLACEMENT FOR ME ARE: The ones that i listed are the ones that I observed in celebrities and one hit wonders.

RAHU /KETU NAKSHATRAS (ASHWINI, ARDA, MAGHA, SWATI, MULA AND SHATABHISTA)

✏️ Explanation: As much as vedic twitter wants y'all to believe that Ketu nakshatras are very "inactive" on social media, NO THEY'RE NOT!!!! They are most likely to be lurking and active. Not interacting tho but LURKING. They have multiple social media accounts. They gain followers really quickly (and likes) especially Rahu ruled nakshatras.

CAPRICORN RASHI, LIBRA RASHI AND AQUARIUS NAKSHATRA

✏️Explanation: Capricorn rashi and Libra rashi is the most concerned when it comes to reputation. Libra rashis "people pleaser" stereotype stems to the fact that they value reputation and their public image a lot (and not about your feelings). Prime example is the Hollywood. It's dominated by Sidereal Libras. While Capricorn rashi interact with certain type of people with power to elevate their status and also they have a talent to knows who's to be friend or associate and they really love spotlight more than a leo does.

WHEN RAHU/KETU CONJUNCT YOUR LUMINARIES

✏️ Explanation: I've just seen this placement on random people that has nakshatra that doesn't care about fame and yet they're still famous bevause they have a luminaries conjunct their rahu/ketu. It applies to especially when you're going through a rahu transit conjunct one of your luminaries.

SUPRISINGLY: 12TH HOUSE PLACEMENTS AND PISCES RASHI (especially revati)

✏️ Explanation: They usually social media famous though, prime example is V from BTS and Angelina Jolie gained a large count of followers on Instagram in such a short period of time (ofcourse they're famous but I've seen this in my personal colleagues that have revati nakshatra also, huge following type)

MARS NAKSHATRA (MRIGASHIRA, CHITRA AND DHANISTHA)

✏️ Explanation: The moon with this nakshatra especially, they go thru rahu mahadasha and this mahadasha/antardasha is a one of the indicators of potential fame in your life. Nicki Minaj became household phenomenon on her Rahu Mahadasha.

Don't underestimate the sun.

There is a reason why the SUN is our natural atmakaraka . I also often notice this in the Vedic community that "Sidereal Leo are being Sidereal Leo," and their prime examples are Beyoncé and Michael Jackson. If you have Sidereal Leo placements, it doesn't mean you exude Beyoncé or Michael Jackson. Most Sidereal Leos I know have identity issues, not just Rahu/Ketu Nakshatra. Atmakaraka is the soul's purpose (not the North Node, because the way the North Node portrays the soul's purpose in Western Astrology is not it).

What I will really illustrate here are Sidereal Libra suns. They are stereotyped in Western astrology that "Scorpios" are said to be obsessive. Sidereal Libra SUN needs to learn how to balance their relationships and love someone properly, so sometimes they become intense. They need to learn how to balance (just like their symbol).

Aside from ketu nakshatras infamous for being rockstar cult like fans, It's also applicable for Shatabhista and Arda. Swati dominates the movie/acting industry but music? Shatabhista and Arda. I emphasize that they're great at heartbreaking songs especially Arda (with Punarvasu).

The most obvious fact is that Mars dominating the rap/hiphop industry. (second on the list is mercury influence, and the runner up is Sagittarius rashi)

The Examples I can think of:

Eminem (Chitra sun, Dhanista moon)

Travis Scott (Bharani Sun, Anuradha moon)

Jay Z ( Jyestha sun but his Hasta moon contributed too)

Nicki Minaj ( Jyestha sun, Uttara phalguni moon)

Doja Cat ( Chitra sun, Uttara phalguni moon)

Megan Thee Stallion (Dhanista sun)

Logic (Jyestha moon)

Latto (Mula sun, the dispositor of her moon is Ashwini which is mars)

Central Cee (Sidereal taurus stellium (Sun, Mars and Mercury) dispositor is Ashwini Venus, Hasta moon)

Kendrick Lamar (Mrigashira sun, Dispositor of his moon is Jyestha)

Tyler the Creator (Anuradha moon)

Queen Latifah (Bharani ascendant)

Flo Milli (Dhanista moon, Dispositor of her sun and moon are Ashwini and Bharani)

21 Savage (Chitra sun, dispositor of his sun is Anuradha venus)

Metro Boomin (Sidereal virgo stellium (He has Jupiter and Mars in Chitra)

Future (Anuradha sun (Sidereal Scorpio stellium), Parivaritan yoga in his mercury and mars)

@//KisseslikeKay did a thread about video vixens (women who models and appears in hiphop oriented music videos) and they either have mars nakshatra or mars rashi.

[neiptune]

aot boys x guilty pleasures

a/n: this is me being self indulgent and having a lil fun so forgive the shitposting but also feedback is always appreciated mwah

eren loves the shit out of nature documentaries you'll leave him alone one saturday night and you'll come back to find him sprawled on the couch watching life of mammals or some shit on netflix lmao you'd be on a date and he'd get suddenly excited enough to hit you with random facts like “btw did you know that the average blood pressure of a giraffe is around 300/190?” he'd literally barge in rooms with a “babe omg hummingbirds are like the only birds that can fly backwards” and you'd just be sitting on the toilet with a very unimpressed look but he's cute 12/10 would make a good park ranger or whatever

armin is lowkey obsessed with youtubers like he legitimaly sits down and watches hours on end of unboxing/reaction videos or travel vlogs jfc and it's always the dumb stuff ya know like person x unboxing the same phone in 10 different colors or person y reacting to drake's new single and THAT controversial lyric. it's exhausting really he'd be in bed at 3am still going through chrissy's 27 min travel vlog about some bali vacation gone wrong and don't even get me started on drama and internal feuds or breakups oh my god he has a whole playlist of breaking my silence videos on youtube to keep track of who's said what so he can pick the best side

you've introduced jean to the world of fandoms and fanfiction and at first he was all like nah that's too weird but now he has his own ao3 account and eats the weirdest most hilarious shit up, will also use acquired terms in the wrongest way like you'd be watching bridgerton together and he'd suddenly nod to himself with a OOOO TRIGGER WARNING THEY BOUT TO FUCK lmao he's obsessed tbh his twitter is filled with commentary on random chapters he's screenshot and that I WILL GO DOWN WITH THIS SHIP titanic gif posted over and over again like no honey you will not we've moved past that 10 years ago

oh god connie is such a chronic playlist creator he'd have one for EVERYTHING and he genuinely spends hours selecting the perfect most appropriate songs and titles for each one, you best believe before you first started dating he's made one for you called “i like you idgaf about your boyfriend” which came with a weird ass mix of sweet stuff like just the way you are by bruno mars and cash shit by megan thee stallion lmaooo he's so random he thinks he's good at it too and you don't have the heart to tell him that “get down dirty bedroom sexy lapdance music” ain't a good title. it's kinda attractive that he's not a music snob tho like he'd be blasting country music classics while cooking, rap mixtapes when he's taking a shower or full on broadway showtunes when driving, he also has a cute voice that cracks on higher notes but it secretly turns you on how deep in the moment he is while screaming to defying gravity in the car

levi gets a weird kick out of serial killer documentaries or real footage of their interviews/trials, also listens to A LOT of true crime podcasts and TAKES NOTES about the most interesting cases to check if he'd be able to solve the unsolved ones and he'd always test you as well? you'd be reading a book in bed and he'd plop next to you with a dead serious look on his face asking shit like “would you help some random guy with a cast on his arm carry his bags?” 🤨 out of the blue like ?????? baby that's kinda weird can you not but it's really just him trying to flex his big big brain thank fuck he's not an actual cop he'd be insufferable (and way less hot)

to absolutely no one's surprise reiner's guilty pleasure has to do with you, the man's all about you (and hockey), you've asked him to take a bath with you once and now not a single motherfucking week goes by without him looking at you big big puppy eyes asking “bath???” most evenings after work. it doesn't even have to lead to anything he's just content basking in warm water and bubbles with you in his lap, he gets to massage shampoo into your scalp if you want to wash your hair and is now a pro at creating the perfect atmosphere with oils and dimmed lights and omg don't even get me started on candles, he's memorized your favorite scents and now also has his own preferences, catch him walking around a yankee candle store at least twice a month, girls working there ask this big scary grumpy guy if he needs help and he'd reply with the softest most polite & specific hi hello yes actually i need to stock up on sparkling cinnamon and snow globe wonderland tyvm

porco 100% checks his naked self out in the mirror lmaooo i know this shouldn't count as something people wouldn't believe he'd do but it's kinda a guilty pleasure i guess??? he finds putting clothes on a lil depressing and knows he's hot. sometimes you'd catch him doing that after showering and the man would be so fucking thirsty for compliments cause what is he supposed to do with muscles and abs and prominent biceps if you won't drool over them a little? he's annoying & also gets soooo whiny if you don't indulge him like :( do you not think your dashing boyfriend is cute :( while flexing, also always tries to convince you to take your clothes off as well for “inspection purposes” to which you simply flick his forehead lol whether you end up pressed against that very mirror 10 minutes later it's between you and him xoxo

[ghouldtime]

Tomorrow. (An "Alone. Truly Alone." Drabble)

Wrote this because I was getting stumped on Chapter three. Have a little tiny Ghoap moment ;3

I love him so much look at him!! What a guy!! (Also being able to actually see him in motion has helped me so much trying to figure out how to write him)

Mwah I wanna kiss his face

CW: Mentions of blood, death and dying. Nothing too graphic but it's still very much there! It's angsty too

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Tomorrow.

Oh, how he loathed that one, single, simple wretched word uttered carelessly without as so much as a second thought by so many. How he hated tomorrow. 

Tomorrow stood as an uncertain promise held aloft every evening as the sands of time trickled through their limitless hourglass, slowly emptying into the chalice that soon would turn as the earth once again shone a different face to the sun. Tomorrow wasn’t something anyone could truly count on when the tides could shift in an instance, changing everything you knew. Simon Riley knew that better than anyone.

Serving years slaving away in arid deserts and frozen tundras alike with nothing but the weighty gear on his back and a gun in his hand meant he knew better than any other that tomorrow was a measure of time, nothing more. No matter how many times tomorrow had been said, promised, spoken so truly imbued with intent already plotted on its horizon, it didn’t change fate. It didn’t change whether you were going to make it to then or not. The world didn’t care if you made it through or to tomorrow. It only made tomorrow happen.

How many tomorrows had passed since he had been trapped in this washed-out, colorless hell surrounded by walls damning him to eternal solitary confinement with no promise of escape was something he couldn’t answer.  The sun had long since ceased warming him with its golden rays in the morning and the moon had made itself scarce, never showing when it hung in the twinkling night sky. A being damned to purgatory didn’t deserve such warmth or beauty. Every wall encasing him determined such a thing would be true as long as he lived in his unliving state. Cold and unfeeling, nothing he did could change the immovable fate that shackled him down and buried him alive in the cement cage.

That didn't stop him from etching the passage of everything he loosely guessed was a day into the walls. Keeping track of something, as minute as it may be, at least kept him saner than he would be with nothing else. Carving into the walls with the few tiny metallic medical tools that had been abandoned and left to rot, the same as him, stood as the only form of retribution against his prison that he could manage.

Each nick, dig, and mark struck against it stood in a silent testament to say that he lived despite death itself having clasped its frigid, clammy hands around his neck as it choked him out until his lifeforce faded. Every insignificantly significant tiny white line marring the concrete stood in testament that even if he was trapped, the bitter taste of defeat still remained foreign on his decaying tongues. His normal body may have long been forgotten and replaced with too many twisted limbs and cerberic heads, but he was still Simon; the very same Simon that would fight with all of his too many teeth and blackened nails until his true final breath.

Though his life had been forced from his mortal shell with the reaper's digging claws until it was pulled from his body, he still somehow lived. How fitting of an "end" for someone like Simon, someone who couldn't even catch a breath when the dark angel came calling his name, only to turn him back to the world as it took a part of him with it. True peace was never fitting for him, he supposed. When all of his life was spent dedicating to fighting, it's only expected he would go toe to toe with his own mortality too.

Yet this pathetic existence hardly classified as what he could call living. He breathed, yes, air filled his lungs but it served no function. Nor did the existence of his heart or any of his organs that were little more than placeholders these days. It was a blessing to be some form of alive and to still have his brain perfectly functioning, but being trapped in this shell stood as an eternal, tormenting curse. Punishment for escaping death one too many times, endlessly taunting it as he dodged all too many bullets, is often how it seemed.

Death would've been the preferable option than staying trapped in the decaying government facility alone and the body that held him prisoner to match.

How he wished he could be permanently buried in the dirt, his eyes closed in a true state of rest. The waking world was a poor imitation of what he hoped death's true embrace would feel like as it came calling his name once more and beckoned a single, crooked skeletal finger. Thin, yellowing sheets that covered the dusty hospital beds where he lay each night offered little comfort for the constant numbness surrounding him in a static void.

Every physical sensation that brushed against his poor-excuse for flesh drowned in the barrier of his unalive state before it could reach him. Heat, cold, pain, pleasure, hunger, thirst - none of those things mattered to a being who could no longer feel in such a corporeal sense.

The same couldn't be said for his feelings. Now that the pesky things such as normal human bodily needs abandoned his form, his heart and mind made up for their absence tenfold as they held him down and forced him to feel everything and anything in between in the murkiest depths of his soul. Like a twisting, red-hot blade they relentlessly engraved their grievances on chunks of his very essence, permanently scorching his soul as they scarred far deeper than any of the hundreds of weapons that had been turned against him ever could hope to.

Despite the stillness of his heart and the absence of what used to be a steady, rhythmic beat, his heart still burned as if it were thrown into the deepest depths of hell whenever he turned his gaze and locked eyes at the tiny picture on his nightstand of him and Soap together, blacked out in tactical gear. He should've thrown an arm around him and made their last picture together more memorable - but it was too late for that. Should've was already too late. He was too late.

The extra heads forced together by sinewy webbing never were much help when it came to focusing with his already clouded vision. Straining to look as he brought the picture closer to his faces, to truly see through all of his eyes, was minor inconvenience he could bare. For it meant that his eyes were graced with three sets, three times, the visage seared into his memory of the one who took on the world for him. The same one who fought for the world, his world, and so readily gave it up for him without a second of a hesitation. He deserved that at the very least - to be seen, recognized, admired. Johnny deserved that and the world itself.

Pouring pure alcohol into his veins and setting it alight would hurt less than the pang of primal agony that rippled through him, shredding his heart and spitting its venom into his soul, whenever he set the picture down and glanced at his left size where an arm - Johnny’s arm, lay fused to his own. Taught skin webbed between it and where his own original arm stood long before he became an abomination and a product of science going too far. The strong fingers that had cradled his hand so gently throughout some nights when the other thought he was asleep, the hand that strangled, shot, and killed for him - now usually clung to the tattoos that inked up his flesh as if afraid to let it go once more even in this harrowing state.

The single limb agonizingly sacrificed to him remained the only one didn’t have perfect control over. It never fully listened, much like the man it came from. No matter the orders he barked at the sergeant, he wasn't one to heed with his head alone. Sometimes that noble, brave heart of his that let him charge up the ranks so fast took the reigns before he could do anything about it.

Stand down, Johnny.

Get out of there, MacTavish.

Don't you dare, Johnny. It's not worth it. Not for me.

....

The longer he lived with the errant limb and dealt with the non-compliance, and the usual near constant grip on his forearm, in a twisted way, he didn’t want things to change. He didn't want it to listen. That wouldn't be Johnny's arm - that wouldn't be Johnny if it did. It wouldn't be the last solid reminder he had if it complied, even if it was connected to his consciousness now.

For now, it was something he could cling onto like a starving dog lapping up scraps of meat outside the back of a butcher shop. Deep down, he knew that he was feeding the delusions as he blindly clawed for anything he could cling onto as a reminder, but bringing himself to care enough to stop wasn't an option (as unhealthy as it might be). Living with the miniscule fantasy served as a balm to his gouged soul that bled out more and more as the seasons marched on and days tumbled forward into one another. It was enough for a man like him who would scavenge for anything his many hands could get ahold of, clinging to any threads as if they could carry him out of the abyss until they inevitably crumbled to dust under the crushing weight of him.

Some nights as he lay on the creaky hospital bed staring up at the same blank ceiling that matched the same gray that covered his senses in a blinding fog, he could almost pretend that Johnny was still here, still talking to him in the thick brogue that was so distinctly him, still smelling of the scotch he loved so much tinged with gunpowder from all the explosives he had set up.

If he closed all six of his milky eyes, the phantom sensation of Johnny's warm form beside him as he imagined him close once more nearly caused him to feel something along his sensationless form. Those deft fingers that worked along intricate wires of dangerous weapons never followed the same pattern twice as he traced his tattoos in the same routine he had many nights before as they lay near one another underneath a flimsy tarp deep in enemy territory, the uncertainty of their own mortal lives continuing for another sunrise strung along the stressful line of their work.

And sometimes if he truly shut off his brain, his mind could truly run wild as it conjured up the words he’d heard so many times before. The same point of contention uttered once more that Johnny always circled back to as he marveled the black lines marbling Simon's skin, “You really should let me color ‘em, LT.” He’d breathe, voice so quiet it could be lost on a breeze as he stared at them with the softest look he had seen on the sergeant’s face, a quiet contemplation written in the furrow of his brows.

If confronted, he knew it would be played off as a joke and nothing more. But the way the roughened pads of his fingers traced the whorls permanently etched into his skin spoke otherwise, echoing words and feelings that ran deep that neither dared to voice. Every moment he lay there alone in his new "life", regret sank its fangs into the vulnerable underbelly of his heart, the heavy feeling settling like molten lead in his stomach as he berated himself for not touching him back, even if it was a tentative hand smoothing a thumb over the back of his.

No matter how many nights and countless times Johnny fell into the routine of tracing his tattoos, Simon's dark gaze would fall right back over the other to trace the tired lines on the other's face and the stubble of his jaw with his eyes. His fingers always twitched restlessly as they lay folded on his chest, aching to feel something aside from the fabric underneath. Yet the ugly, grating voice of doubt pestered him until he hesitated, never letting him the courage to reach up and caress him, even for a second.

His turmoil was obvious to anyone who knew him like Johnny did. The tension in his body, the near constant movement of his fingers, the unblinking look in his eyes as he couldn't help but to stare. But Johnny was smart, significantly smarter than many gave him credit for. He knew better than to point it out with his voice alone but the small upward twitch of his lips spoke a thousand words as he shifted closer, closer.

“Add a little more color to your life. Things can’t always be black and white.” Johnny always insisted as he leaned further in, the weight of his body sinking in, nurturing the warmth blooming in his chest.

Breathing had never been harder as those blue eyes peered up at him through dark lashes. All air left his lungs in a flash, his heart halting as he stared into those eyes, helplessly held captive by those beautiful blues that would put the finest aquamarine gems to shame.

How he wished he listened.

What he wouldn't give to go back to that moment, if only for a fraction of a second, to get lost in those expressive pools of his newfound favorite color.

No amount of time nor disease would pry that memory from him as he lingered in the stagnant, abandoned base. The warmth he felt that night bloomed within his chest even now, even when hindered and reduced to nothing more than a faint fuzzy feeling tickling his chest.

Not even the fusion of the two heads on the side of his could even hope to gnaw it away with their own plaguing whispers and intrusive thoughts that bit through his skull as they tried to worm their way into his brain like the parasites that they were. But he wouldn’t let them. Nothing could.

No, nothing could make him forget Johnny. Not even the end of his world as he knew it. Death may have taken him temporarily into his clutches, dangling him between the precipice of life, but that wasn't enough. Because his world didn't end when he died, no. That was insignificant. His world ended not when he rasped his last breath, endless rivers of crimson spilling onto the operating table. It ended when he used the last of his energy to tilt his head to take one last look at Johnny, knowing that he would never see him again.

...

Endless amounts of tomorrows could add up in the gouges of more tally marks and scores into the wall, covering every nano angstrom of the base and he still would loathe them with all the contempt his heart could well up until it sat in a venomous soaked vat of his festering rage.

He hated tomorrows because each mark was another reminder of the tomorrow that wasn't to come, the tomorrow swiped from underneath his feet by fate's cruel hand, the tomorrow he promised, the tomorrow that would never be - the tomorrow with Johnny.

[luveline]

if you’re up to it!! maybe a single dad!steve w twins? i cant stop thinkin about one of your posts saying he’d have a really rambunctious lil girl and a sweet shy lil boy 🥺 maybe a meet cute with r? or the lil boy warming up to r and letting her hold him for the first time? idk!! also no worries at all if you’re not feeling this! just thought i’d throw it out there okay ilysm mwah

thank you for your request, this was so fun, and I'd been thinking about the twins for a little while now so it was fun to actually write them!! ♥︎ single dad!steve x fem!reader 2.2k

"Sarah," Steve says loudly, "you gotta hold my hand, or we'll have to go home." 

Sarah's eyes widen and she grabs for Steve's bigger fingers. Her palm is sticky with ice cream. No part of her remains unscathed from the disastrous dairy — her blue dress is now purple in splotches, bubblegum ice cream stains like fingerprints, and her blonde hair is darker towards the tips where she'd accidentally leaned into her sundae. Steve doesn't mind, she looks like she enjoyed herself, and her little sighs of joy had proven it, but he worries other people will look at her and think he isn't looking after her properly. 

He's lucky in some ways to be a single dad instead of a single mom. Most people commend him for doing the bare minimum. He's a saint for 'giving mommy a break'. Oh, please, he thinks, rolling his eyes internally each time. 

"But, how come Charlie doesn't have to hold your hand?" she asks, pouting at the injustice of it all. 

"Your brother does need to hold my hand," Steve says. 

"He's holding onto your pants, dad," she grumbles. 

It would be more accurate to say Charlie is hiding behind Steve's pants, rather than holding them. 

He frowns. "Come on, buddy," he says softly, stroking the downy hair from Charlie's face. "It's alright. We're gonna go on the swings." 

His mentioning of the playground has Sarah's hand straining in his. She tugs her small family with huge willpower down the path until the top of the swingset and jungle gym are in sight, and she lets go of Steve's hand. Steve grabs her as kindly as he can. 

"Hey," he says, leaning down. His backpack shifts against his back, their water bottles no doubt crushed under the weight of their coats and lunchboxes. "What's the rules, Sar-bear?" 

She fizzes up like a can of soda as he brushes sticky strands of hair behind her ears. "Um, to be nice. And to not go where you can't see us, and," —she pauses as Steve wipes her mouth, the old spirit and polish marring his shirt sleeve— "to, uh…" 

"To be careful," he finishes for her pointedly. 

"Yes!" she agrees. 

Steve would ask for a kiss here but Sarah's already jumping on tip toes to give him one, her little kiss print more spit than anything else against his bottom lip. He snorts.

Sarah rushes through the gates and Steve and Charlie follow. There's only one other parent at the playground, a mom with a book in her hands and a stroller by her knees, a child Steve assumes to be hers swinging on the swingset. It's too many people for Charlie regardless, not half as eager as his sister.

Steve sits on the bench opposite the jungle gym where Sarah's already climbing, and Charlie holds his arms up to be lifted into his lap. He does so obligingly.

"You don't wanna play?" Steve murmurs warmly in his ear. 

"No," Charlie says succinctly. He's adorable. 

"I can push you on the swings?" 

"Not for now," he says. 

The twins are at mostly all the same developmental milestones. They sound clumsy when they talk, but they talk, big vocabularies and sentences that make Steve well up because they're getting older so quickly. Sarah tells stories like nobody's business. They're good enough to capture even her brother's attention, full of animals and magic and people. Charlie likes listening, will sit enthralled at her feet, and most people who meet him think he's quiet because his sister is so loud, but it's not true. Charlie likes to talk too, he's just timid. Only at home does he come out of his shell, playing out scenes with imaginary characters, singing gibberish karaoke at the top of his little lungs. 

Steve doesn't mind that Charlie's shy around others. He's grateful to see his baby boy's loud side at home. He wishes Charlie would put himself out there, though, for his own sake. 

"The little boy won't mind," Steve insists. "Come on, baby, it'll be fun. We don't wanna sit here watching Sarah all day, do we?" 

Charlie tips his head back against Steve's chest. "I like Sarah." 

Steve laughs, an extreme affection warming his heart. He wraps his arms around Charlie's front and rubs his baby's head with the tip of his nose. 

"I like Sarah, too," he says. His smile is audible and catching. 

They sit there for a while. The sun shines down, the sky a bright blue and dotted with eggshell clouds. Sarah races over rope fixtures and spring boards until she finally reaches the monkey bars. Steve regrets letting her up there when he realises how tall it is and how small she is, shepherding Charlie with him to stand at the side. 

"Daddy," she says, clearly pleased at his arrival and talking with near factual efficiency, "I need your help." 

"Yes you do, honey." 

He puts his arms out. She grabs one bar and tests it to see how her weight will feel, her bottom lip disappearing between white shiny baby teeth. 

"You want me to hold your waist?" he asks knowingly. 

"I think so." 

"I think so too." He holds her waist, her legs against his chest, and tries not to make it too obvious that he's holding the majority of her weight. "Have a go, honey. One hand at a time." 

Sarah 'swings' from handhold to handhold until she gets to the other end of the bars, where she uses his chest to push herself up onto the metal floor. She cheers and rushes to sit down at the top of the slide. 

Charlie stands at the bottom. Steve has to pluck him from in front of it before Sarah rockets her Mary Jane's into his chest, which makes Sarah laugh and cheer even more. 

"Woah, Charlie! I almos'd kicked your face!" 

"You want a turn?" Steve asks him. "We'll use the other side to go on the slide, should we?" 

Sarah had chosen the hard way up to the slide via monkey bars. Charlie takes the easier side, a gentle wooden ramp with a rope for him to hold onto. He climbs to the top of the slide, sits happily at the precipice, wind ruffling the hair out of his bright eyes, and Steve thinks he's going to be brave for a moment. 

Charlie looks at Steve worriedly. "You'll catch me at the end?" 

"Yeah, I'll catch you." 

Charlie slides down to the end, the metal squeaking under his pants, and Steve catches him before his feet can hit the floor as promised. 

Sarah is ecstatic, already at the top waiting for another turn. "Go Charlie!" she shouts, pushing down and slamming into Steve's knees at the end. 

"Excuse me?" 

Steve turns, one kid clinging to his chest, the other his legs. 

You're standing at the gate with a stack of fliers in your arms. Steve's worried he's about to get cold called, thinks, wow, she's a little too pretty to be selling vacuum cleaners curbside, as you hold out a flyer. 

"I'm looking for my friend's cat," you say. "I'm really sorry to interrupt you. Her name's Evangeline and she's orange. She's kinda chubby. Have you seen her?" 

Charlie's pressing his face as far into Steve's neck as physics will allow him to while Steve draws closer to you. His breath warms Steve's skin in hot puffs. 

"I don't think we have. Did you see a cat today, Sar-bear?"

Sarah holds her arms up for a flyer. A smile flickers across your face, and Steve can tell you're immediately indoctrinated into the Sarah fan club. She has this charm about her that can get just about anyone on her side, even Hopper. 

It helps that she's beautiful. Steve will admit to parental bias, sure, but Sarah is gorgeous. 

"Thank you," she says, mumbling but not shy as you give her a flyer of her own. 

LOST CAT, the poster says. PLEASE CALL THIS NUMBER IF YOU SEE ME. I AM VERY FRIENDLY. EVANGELINE, SEVEN YEARS OLD, GINGER. I DONT BITE BUT PLEASE DONT PET MY TUMMY, IM PREGNANT.

"Oh no," Steve says.

"Daddy, what does it say?" Sarah asks, pert nose wrinkling in confusion. 

"It says," he begins, "that she's a really nice cat, and she's about to be a mommy." 

"Ohh… I didn't see'd her today." 

"No, I didn't think so." Steve's arms are aching from holding Charlie for so long, but knows from experience he won't be put down. Steve doesn't bother trying it, just shifts Charlie on his hip to encourage his gaze to you where you're standing, patient and a smidge awkward. 

"How about you? Have you seen any cats today?" he asks Charlie. 

Charlie peeks up from Steve to assess you. You're wearing jeans and a dark green jacket, unzipped. There's a smiley face on your t-shirt, black against grey-white. Charlie sees this, sees the very real, very gentle smile you wear on your lips, and relaxes just a touch.

"I don't remember, sorry," he says quietly.

You visibly weaken. Steve gets it. His kids are ridiculously lovely. 

"Don't be sorry, babe," you say sweetly, leaning down to meet his eyes. "Can I ask you for a favour?"

Steve rubs his back. Charlie nods. 

"Could you keep an eye out for me, would that be okay? We don't want Eva to have her kittens by herself. Maybe if you see her daddy can call the number on the poster?" 

You look to him with a different kind of smile. 

"Sure we will!" Sarah says, eyes fixed on the black and white photo of Evangeline.

You fish a pen out of your pocket. "Maybe you could call me." You smile. "You know, if you find her." 

Steve blinks. It takes a second for his body to remember how to talk to girls, pretty girls who want to talk to him. It's been a while. 

"Uh, sure." He hates himself. He can still save it. "What's the reward?" 

He can't save it. 

"If you find Evangeline? We were hoping whoever helped get her home would do it from the goodness of their heart, but I think I could make an exception." Your eyes flit between the twins. You scribble down something Steve can't see on a new poster and offer it to Charlie with an encouraging nod. "Hey, thank you. Any help at all means the world. You guys go on and have a good day, alright? Thanks, handsome." 

"You're welcome," Steve says, a millisecond after he realises you'd been talking to Charlie. 

You laugh and wiggle your fingers at his kids. You're gone as quick as you came down the stone path to the ice cream parlour. 

Steve's boiling. It isn't from the sun. 

"What'd she write, daddy?" Sarah asks. 

He tears his eyes from your retreating figure and lowers Charlie to the ground with a tired groan. He sits on the end of the slide and the twins follow him as they always do, like magnets since the days they learned to crawl. They all squeeze on the end of the slide together. 

"Can I see yours, bud?" he asks.

Steve puts Charlie's flyer on top of his own. Next to Evangeline's chunky body, you've written a tightly packed message. Your handwriting looks like your voice sounds. Steve doesn't know how to explain it. 

You've put down your phone number. Under it, you've written a sloping message: 

find her and maybe we can celebrate! ♥︎ 

"Dad?" Sarah prompts. 

"Oh, right. It says if we find the cat we can celebrate."

"What's 'celebrate'?" 

"Uh, we can celebrate, we can have a reward and a little party."

"A party?" Sarah asks with a gasp. 

"Well, not always?" he says, his heart still pattering from the sight of your number. 

It's too late to amend what he's said. Sarah's heard party, and she wants a party, though her definition of what a party is inaccurate. She thinks parties with Aunt Robin are better than Christmas, movies and popcorn and jiffy pop and Depeche Mode singalong. 

"Dad, we have to find that cat!" 

Steve's thinking the same thing. Any excuse to call you is one he wants to take, not just because you'd been pretty, but because you'd seen him and the kids at the same time. He doesn't wanna be presumptuous, maybe you write your number on all the posters, but even as he thinks it he doubts it. 

Your biro heart feels like a beckoning. 

Or Steve's an idiot. It wouldn't be the first time he was.

"Can we go look, dad?" Charlie asks. 

Steve has a lot of chores waiting for him at home, laundry and dishes and bills he has to do over the phone. He doesn't have time to look for a wandering cat, even if you were super pretty, and you'd talked to the kids like they were golden, and the smile you'd given him at one point felt heavy with something unspoken… 

"Let me get my bag," he says, standing up. "You guys are gonna need your jackets if we're staying out. It's getting cold." 

The twins rush to join him. 

—

my requests are open so if you'd like to see more of steve and the twins let me know, hopefully they can find poor evangeline! and if you enjoyed please consider reblogging, it means the world <3<3<3<3

[pumpkinbxtch]

*slides into your requests*

Hi hello I'm here to feed my Frank love 💕

I looooove how you write him because he can be so sweet and loving and MWAH

But do you think you can write a fic where it's Reader (doesn't matter the gender to me 😊) where they have the worst time trying to flirt with him so they end up flirting with him via baked goods and stuff? Just the whole "I can't voice my love without being an idiot so here's a plate of spaghetti 🍝" 👀

food is better than pickup lines ✧⁠*⁠。

— frank zhang x fem!reader

summary: you wanted to flirt with frank, The situation is that it turns out that you are not that good at it, so you think of a different way to make him understand your feelings.

warnings: none, maybe language.

a/n: omg, you guuuys *runs and rings a bell* a frank request and it's super cute and amazin ideaaa, livin the dream frfr. thank you for your sweet words and for share me this dream of yours. i hope you like it ): — kisses from mars (tee-hee), maría 🩵

You were determined, you'd make Frank understand that you were terribly in love with him… well, something like that. Actually, you were already doing it, but it wasn't until that moment that you realized you had replaced pickup lines with baked goods. Why?

Man, flirting wasn't your thing. But the terrible part was that you didn't know you were actually so bad at it. You realized it once you had already said such embarrassing, terrible things that there was no doubt you had killed one or several seduction fairies somewhere on the planet.

— Is someone waiting for you, Frank…? — you hinted that time. He looked up from his paperwork and when you saw how his eyebrows slowly came together, you knew you had done it again.

Behind him, Piper covered her mouth and stifled a laugh. Was there anything crueler than a daughter of Aphrodite laughing at your seduction maneuvers?

— Someone waiting for me? — he asked, leaning slightly over the bar that separated them. Frank thought maybe he hadn't heard you right.

Your hands continued working on his tea, but internally you were kicking yourself. To cover it up, you let out a laugh.

— Yeah…— He looked at you closely, scanning, pondering all the possibilities of that comment. Apparently reaching a conclusion, his lips curved into a smile.

— Sometimes I don't know when you're joking.— He reached out to pat your head and ruffled your hair gently. That time, you blessed Frank's innocence and swore you'd never use phrases-to-seduce-your-crush.com again.

Gods, what about that time when Piper tried to help you by pushing you towards him? You said something about him being too tall, and in an attempt to turn it into an opportunity to say something cute, you ended up calling him Giraffrank. GI-RA-FFRANK. You wished you could steal that memory and bury it in the deepest recesses of Tartarus.

No, you simply couldn't go on with that, or you'd end up confessing to him in an even more embarrassing way (if that was possible).

In your despair, you grabbed some ingredients from the cafeteria and let your woes turn into nothing less than strawberry-filled mochis. You lifted them to appreciate their fluffiness and felt a touch on your shoulder. You almost forgotten Piper was there.

—That? — She looked at the tray and raised her eyebrows playfully. — Can I try?

— Sure, take them — you said listlessly, sliding the tray across the marble table to your friend. Piper ignored it upon noticing your bad mood and hugged you.

— Frank is really hard to catch, girl. He's so… clueless. — Your friend pressed her lips together and stroked your hair. At least you had her.

— You're not going to tell me it's my lack of skills in saying charming things?— Piper looked away, trying to avoid answering, and you shrugged.

Her consolation to you was interrupted by the doorbell. Both of you looked up. It was late.

— We're closing!— Piper shouted, approaching the counter while you stood at the back. Seeing her stop abruptly and shoot you a sparkling glance, you moved closer. As soon as you saw the purple shirt, you wanted to bury yourself in the pile of dishes you had to wash, but before you could do it, Frank smiled at the sight of you.

— Ladies...— The guy bowed. Despite his apparent diplomacy, your friend had a playful smile adorning his face. — I was passing by and saw the lights on. It's about time you were at the camp, and I remind you that you're only working here for your spring break, so I can't allow you to be out longer than permitted.

— Well, it's our good Frank playing preator — Piper joked while giving you a look. You forced a smile and nodded.

— While you're here, you're my responsibility. Camp Half-Blood would never forgive us if anything happened to you.

— Believe me, Frank, they don't care as long as we come back in one piece — Piper said disdainfully. She cleaned the nearest table and offered the Roman a seat, which he accepted with an excuse.

— Is something wrong? —The guy asked, giving you a concerned look.

Unconsciously, you had stayed behind the counter in complete silence. Piper gestured to you, but you were so afraid of messing things up that you didn't want to even speak. You just shook your head and forced another fake smile.

Piper made a gesture of annoyance without Frank noticing and signaled to you again, which you still didn't understand. She realized she had to act, or you would never get anywhere.

— In fact, she's tired of making the new cafeteria dessert, right? — You frowned, not understanding Piper's movement. This time, she pointed at the mochis, and you widened your eyes.

— Yeaaah, and I don't think you want to try them. It's the first time I've made them, and I don't want to poison you.

— Oh, come on, we know you're good at this! — Your friend insisted, making faces and signals for you to seize that opportunity.

— That's true — Frank said, giving you a radiant and confident smile.

Without much enthusiasm, you went to put a few on a plate and left them in front of him. Immediately, the guy examined them with surprise.

— Mochis?

Your cheeks burned. Stupid Chinese dessert.

Frank widened his smile and eagerly took one into his mouth. The sound of enjoyment he made churned your stomach nervously. Apparently, you did something good that day.

Frank's eyes locked onto yours with a sparkle, and he smiled at you again in that way only he knew and the same one that kept you awake at night. — Delicious!

“am I so in love with him?” you wondered, and with just that word, you regained your humor and motivation. Your mind thought that would be the best way to express your feelings to Frank. You walked to the counter where the others were and packed them in a bakery box with the cafeteria logo. When you returned, you gave it to him.

— For me? — He said, amazed, with a curious look.

— Yes, for you.

And you knew it was the best way to express it. "Show, don't tell," you thought.

Despite being happy with your approach, Piper lamented in the depths of the kitchen as she washed the dishes. She should have tried one of those desserts before speaking.

And that's how things went. Maybe for you, it was almost like a vacation, but Frank had to keep being a praetor, training, and attending to his responsibilities, which consumed most of his days, so you provided him with some food. From that day on, you never stopped cooking for him.

— Frank! — Seeing him covered in sweat with a spear in hand, you felt nervous, but you approached him anyway, handing him the dish.

—Spaghetti. I know you guys have your own magical kitchen, but...

You nervously smiled as he took it as something precious, and the corners of his lips lifted. Your breath seemed to catch as you admired how impressive his beauty was to you, the breadth of his shoulders and the strength he seemed to possess. It seemed counterproductive how someone with his appearance was actually such a kind, gentle, and adorable person.

— You don't have to bother — his velvety voice snapped you out of the trance. Still, he held the dish against his chest and smiled sweetly.—Thanks, do you mind if...? — A whistle interrupted him, and his expression seemed to harden, he was annoyed. Without wanting to interrupt his duties, you gestured for him to go, and he walked away from you because he had no other choice. At that moment, Frank hated being a praetor, but you felt relieved not to have to talk to him, taking risks.

The following days were like the ABCs of love... with dishes.

L - for Lasagna

O - for an Omelet

V - for Vegetable Soup

E - for Enchiladas

Each one adapted to lactose intolerance. Sometimes in the middle of the process, you felt your cheeks burning, the embarrassment overwhelming, almost stupid, but you really wanted to let Frank know that you cared about him, and it seemed like you did. It better be that way.

Piper entered through the back door, and after sniffing the aroma of tomato pasta, she groaned.

— Damn it, Frank! — She exclaimed as she put on an apron. —I'll help, but he gets the best part

You laughed as you cleaned the counter and headed to the microwave, where you took out a plate already served. You approached your friend and handed it to her. —Thanks, Pipes.

She accepted your thanks with a mouthful and praised your culinary skills.

— Frank... has he said anything to you? — Piper asked once she swallowed the bite, noticing that strange tone, you glanced at her sideways.

—About what? — Anxiety rushed through your thoughts, and you turned quickly. — He doesn't like the food? Have I already annoyed him? Gods, I knew I looked weird doing it.

Piper shook her head and took a sip of water.

— None of that. I'm just asking... — That strange look again. You noticed her eyes changed from amber to green.

—No — you murmured, running your hand along the edge of the counter, feeling a certain heaviness in your stomach as you noticed the direction the conversation was heading. You didn't want to hear it, so you changed your gaze to Piper for a more upbeat one. — But it's okay like this. It's better if things are at ease, maybe after all, we shouldn't be anything more than friends.

Piper wanted to smack you on the head, she couldn't believe how blind you were. Nevertheless, she knew she had to let things work out on their own. The brunette approached you and caressed your cheek tenderly.

—Go give this to Frank before I snatch it and devour it all.

You let out a chuckle, releasing the tension that had built up in your body.

— Stay away from my macaroni — you scolded, and grabbed the dish. At the door frame, Piper called out to you, you looked at her as she stood on tiptoe and raised her fist encouragingly.

— He's going to love it! — She shouted, and you left the cafeteria in search of Frank.

As you approached the camp area, your steps quickened along with your pulse. Every time you saw him, it felt like walking on a tightrope with lions waiting below to catch you with their sharp teeth. Being with Frank was an explosion of emotions that were held back from being too obvious, the only demonstration of those was the stupid pasta you held.

You scanned your eyes for the boy, while also wanting to close them and pretend you hadn't found him, then Piper could devour the food. Now that you thought about it, in that circumstance, everyone would win. But as soon as you turned towards the Field of Mars, you saw him, and before you could run away, he noticed you too.

You mocked yourself.

Your legs began to weaken, but it wasn't a problem because Frank was already heading towards you with that charming smile that melted you like honey. You remembered a pickup line that would have been very good if only you weren't so bad with words.

—Uber Eats? — He teased mockingly. This time, he was in armor and his cape. "What a damned gem," you thought.

— I think you know it — you tried to respond in the same tone, but a stutter escaped your lips. The faster you delivered it, the better.

Frank's face changed completely, clearly noticing something in your attitude that afternoon. You extended the food, and he received it, momentarily touching your hands. The sensation made you shiver, but you controlled that feeling.

— Good luck, I'll see you later.

He grabbed your shoulder before you could turn away. His brown eyes remained open, filled with motivation.

— You give me this, but you never stay.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to understand both the words and the change in attitude. Frank let go of you and cleared his throat.

— What I mean is that I always end up with something you've cooked for me — he reaffirmed his grip on the dish and looked at it carefully before returning his eyes to yours, his mind trying to choose the right words, hoping not to ruin everything.— But I never get to share it with you. If we could, it would make me happy.

His cheeks turned pink, and you wanted to rub your eyes to make sure of what you were experiencing, but as soon as you considered the possibility, a wave of insecurity washed over your chest.

— I have to... go back to the cafeteria — you took a step back, and he grabbed your arm again. Frank was tired of letting you go and promised himself he wouldn't let it happen this time.

— You can't. You have a matter to discuss with the praetor.

That sentence surprised you as much as it did him.

You stayed silent for a few seconds, and the way Frank held that determined appearance made it impossible for you not to draw a smile. Although you weren't sure if it was out of nerves or because of how funny the situation seemed, maybe both.

— Oh, really? — You challenged. If he didn't let go willingly, maybe throwing him a bad flirtatious line would make him give up, although you weren't sure why you would want to waste something like that.

— Yes. Let's go or the conversation will go cold — he said, taking your hand and ignoring your desire to ruin the moment.

He dragged you to the common dining hall. At that hour it would be occupied only by the two of you.

Frank was a son of Mars. He was good at conspiring strategies against the enemy, and for some time now, he had decided that you were the enemy in this story. Approaching halfway, leaving him out of the game, now he wouldn't allow it, and finally, he could make his next move to you.

[avesque]

hi sweet darling my my myyy i adore your writing so very much and wanted to know if you are still taking requests from that one post you linked? if so i would love to see something with tsu’tey for the “i am in love with a moment we never had” + angst? something about him with some angst just scratches an itch in my brain idkkk lots of love btw mwah !<3

across the stars — tsu’tey

INCLUDES fem!reader, human!reader. angst. 1.1k words.

NOTE anon you are so sweet omg thank you so much! <3

jakesully hands tsu’tey a note one afternoon after the battle, a crumpled piece of folded paper with specks of dirt on the edges. it looks tiny and, tsu’tey admits, unimportant.

he refuses to take it.

the olo’eyktan sighs, pushing the scrap back in his direction. “come on, brother. it’s important.”

tsu’tey begs to differ, taking a step back and scowling at the chief. a small, immature part of him is still stingy about the turn of events; how he had no choice but to pass his title to jakesully when he was on the brink of death.

“it’s from y/n.”

tsu’tey stills. his ears fall back in his hair at the mention of your name, tail swishing in curiosity.

you were one of the researchers — a biologist, he remembers you saying — alongside grace who studied pandoran flora and fauna. before the war, you had wormed your way well into the clan with your bright smiles and tinkling laughter. despite being one of the sky people, no one was able to resist you.

you were magnetic.

tsu’tey prides himself in his great resolve, his firm judgment. he is as untrusting as one can be; calculative when needed and always skeptical.

though he cannot deny how even he was left defenseless to your charm. it pains him to admit it but he grew fond of your excited chatter, especially the way your little demon face would light up at the mere mention of new plants, among other things.

he snatches the paper in jakesully’s hands and leaves without a word.

the note has been tucked under the woven mat in his hut for days now. tsu’tey has convinced himself there are far more important things to focus on than your flimsy little gift, and as dawn breaks over the moon, he finds himself grappling for excuses he can tell himself to prolong the inevitable.

a frustrated scowl mars his face, jumping off his hammock and kneeling on the floor, lifting the carpet to reveal the folded scrap. it seems almost threatening as it sits there, staring back.

he chooses to get it done and over with.

he turns it over a few times, looking for something; anything, but all there is is smeared dirt. finally, with bated breath, he slips a finger in the crease and unfolds it.

the paper is filled with your neat handwriting, dark ink nearly glowing on the white background. his heart sinks a bit as he sees how little you wrote but he ignores the feeling.

my dearest, tsu’tey, it reads.

his hands shake and the paper crumples beneath his fingers.

you may be reading this while i am already off this moon, or you may be reading this with a scowl perfectly painted on your face with me in front of you. either way, i just hope you’re reading this.

i would first like to thank you for your warm welcome.

tsu’tey grunts at that, shifting on his haunches, something ugly bubbling in his chest, one he cannot name.

i know how difficult it must be to accept someone like me yet you did not push me away. (you did, but you are unsuccessful! i am just stubborn, and i’m glad i am.)

the countless moments i have spent with you are everything to me. i will hold them close to my heart forever.

from the deepest crevices of my heart, thank you. i appreciate all the things you’ve done for me. for showing me the flowers and telling me about them, letting me come with you on hunts, and for merely walking with me in the forest. i hope you enjoyed those moments as much as i did.

the sky people are going back on earth soon and i have decided to come with them. before i go, i will tell you a secret.

my heart has grown too fond of you. sometimes, i fear you can hear the way my heart beats a little faster when you’re near. you have enraptured me. you are the most beautiful creature i have ever laid my eyes upon.

but i —

the letter is cut off, scrawled over by strings of ink. it starts again below, and the words sends an arrow straight through his heart.

i am in love with a moment we never had. not entirely, i suppose, since i do not go over our moments the way you do. i do not experience them in a… friendly way, shall i say? the way you do. it does not translate the same way between us.

i have spent nights with you clouding my mind, the sound of your voice a hazy lullaby in my head. i have dreamt of holding you, of kissing you, of telling you i love you.

i see you, tsu’tey. even when i am no longer in this moon, remember that somewhere in this vast universe, someone out there sees you.

thank you for sharing a part of yourself with me.

yours, y/n.

the letter is nearly balled up in tsu’tey’s firm grip. it is miniscule compared to his hand, and it is a reminder of how small yours had looked in his when he guided you over rocks that one time he showed you around.

something sits heavy in his heart. guilt, he’s come to know. the sky people left just two days ago and jakesully had given him your letter a week before.

he falls back on the floor of his hut, the mat digging under his left thigh.

had he known of your feelings… had he conquered his fear and read your letter earlier…

because tsu’tey may be known for his great resolve but all it took was your blinding smile to spear through his walls. he was untrusting as one can be but the trust you have shown you had in him had him wavering.

he suppose it is just right that he was stripped of his title. one so mighty will not cower before a piece of paper, but he had, and he missed the one chance eywa has given him to let you know of his feelings that had grown and bloomed over the course of your moments spent together.

he has nothing of you to remember by except this letter and the guilt that has taken root over his chest. he knows it will stay right there as long as he lives.

[necros-writing-stuff]

You can write some headcannons of... Hephaestus! Eden x Aphrodite! Reader? (Without Ares because Eden will most likely kill him ☠️)

Hi. Hello. You. Anon. I'm pointing at you and blowing kisses.

BECAUSE THIS IS JUST. UHHHHHHHHHHSHSHSHSHH. Perfect. Mwah.

Aight so PC is causing a big ole ruckus cause everyone wants to marry the dearly beloved god/dess of love, lust, beauty, passion, all of those wonderful things.

Naturally, to shut everyone up and keep Eden happy so that he'll continue to make weapons and armour for the gods (as well as a mark of pettiness from Quinn because how dare everyone prefer you over them/how dare you reject them) (Quinn as Zeus or Hera?)

Eden gets the love god/dess.

You're not happy. Not even remotely. He's covered in scars, drenched in sweat from his work at the forge most days. Away at the damn forge all day, so he barely pays attention to you. There's no love ballads from him, no dances dedicated to you.

He'll just come home from the forge, press your body to the marital bed, and pump you full of his seed till he's satisfied. Then he'll sleep. Or leave.

And Eden knows of your restlessness. About how you hate him, how you look down at the mortals you bring together with a wistful longing in your eyes.

Never will he let anyone else have you, though. No matter your feelings. What has life ever given him? He was discarded the moment he was born. Disfigured. Unloved.

Your dominion is love. Yet you hate him the same - if not more - than the rest of them do.

You try so hard to ignite a passion in him. Seductive words whispered in his ear, your tongue sucking every last drop from him until he hisses in overstimulation. Elaborate lap dances that lead to him lying back as you ride him to completion.

But he still won't pay more attention to you.

So you break. You seclude yourself and weep because you have lost the love of someone. That's never supposed to happen. Especially not with your husband.

It impacts the mortals, relationships falling into spirals, sex workers left without customers, renowned beauties becoming unbelievably self-conscious.

Still, Eden doesn't seem to care.

He does, though. It isn't nice for him. To see him do to another what was done to himself.

You love your doves. Would spend hours cooing over them, asking them how their clutches were coming along, how the food was here on Mount Olympus.

You love your flower garden. You'd walk it at night, appreciating the blooms that only showed under the moon; too shy for the sun's warmth.

Weapons and warfare weren't his only crafts. He could make other things. And so he did. It took months, planning the piece, finding the materials, finding cheaper, marred materials to make a mock-up, a second damn mock-up, and then the final piece. It was winter when he finished.

He presented it to you on your fifth anniversary. Funny, to have had you two wed in the season of death. Or rather, ironic.

It was worrisome, wondering if you'd come out of your chambers.

You did though. And your light looked so dim. Your beauty, while still the most resplendent he'd ever seen, shadowed by the evidence that you hadn't been sleeping and had been denying the help of the nymphs who waited on you.

Your chiton was askew, your himitation hanging loose and not guarding you from the cool mountain air.

There was no reaction to when he stepped forward, but your eyes narrowed in suspicion when he grasped at the fabric of your clothing. Did he mean to take it off? To just use you again and discard you?

How surprising to see him fix it all. To put it back together before hesitantly smoothing your loose hairs back.

"Need to keep this on," he gave a small tug to your himitation. "We can't get sick, but that doesn't make the cold anymore pleasant."

He pinned it with something, something that grabbed your immediate attention.

A brooch, a delicate-looking and intricately made brooch. Such fine details, such realistic depictions of a pair of doves settled close in a nest of your favourite flowers. You had no idea what the metal was. But it was exquisite.

Magic hummed beneath the surface.

"Whenever you ah-"

Eden coughed, choking on his words.

"Whenever you don't feel good? Just whisper my name into it. I'll know when you do. I'll come see you, even if I'm working. Saves you needing to scream at me from the balcony like many of the others around here."

He couldn't stay. Couldn't wait to see the rejection of his gift. So he turned and left to the large bathing room (which he admits he should have gone to first, there's hand-shaped soot prints on your clothes now).

There was silence as you watched him go, your mouth hanging open just a little.

Down below, somewhere in the land of the humans, a young couple fell in love. The first love for a mortal in all of those months.

And back up on the mountain, you carefully laid your brooch and himitation down on your bed before following your husband to the bath.

Olympus heard screaming that night, afterall.

[pitconfirm]

F1 Ask Game

tagged by @catboysracing and @wewentcarracing 👼😽 thank u mwah

who is your favorite driver?

the precious lamb the bratty kitten the beautiful cow…. do I need to go on

do you have other favorite drivers?

nando and este.... i love when they're unbearable to others and mostly to each other

who is your least favorite driver?

anybody who saw my posts on sunday will know the answer to this I think

do you pull for drivers or do you like teams as well?

there are some teams I hate but mostly I just root for whatever teams my pookies are in

If you like teams, what team do you pull for?

aston martin for facilitating the strollonso marriage

If you could take over as team principal for any team, who would it be and why?

that does not sound like something i'd enjoy at all

how long have you been into f1?

since 2020 👼

what got you into f1?

i watched the virtual grand prixs cause i was bored in lockdown and then I was like ok this is cool….. and then I saw lance in his little pink outfit and the deal was done

do you enjoy fanfic / rfp?

... . .......................................... .......🤨

how do you view new fans?

enjoy what you want when u want. older fans don’t be weird and gatekeepy it’s never that deep

are your friends and family into f1 as well?

yes..... but we don’t root for the same people 😿

are you open to talking to other fans / making friends?

yes hello my beautiful friends…

i will tag..... @lil-shiro @rivalism @no00000000 @boxboxbrioche @abovecalamity @mars-mystic @superion-artworks if u want 😌

[kanekoii]

that time my boss became yandere for me and now i’m stuck at nijisanji

mika’s notes -> i can explain… (thanks to @mystaposts and sardine for the ideas!! mwah love y’all!!)

pairing -> yandere! riku tazumi x gn! reader

genre -> crack but i took this unnecessarily seriously + sardine wrote the whole first part

song -> fool for you - kastra

warnings -> THIS IS MY WAY OF CLOWNING ON NIJISANJI PLEASE DONT PUT ME ON THE HITLIST yandere, stalker behavior, tazumi being a character i turned into a yandere

In the heart of the sprawling metropolis, where shadows danced in the alleyways and secrets clung to the air like a heavy fog, Riku Tazumi stood at the crossroads of redemption and damnation. His life, a tapestry woven with the threads of violence, manipulation, and remorse, led him to this pivotal moment.

Riku's haunting words reverberated through the desolate streets, reaching the ears of someone from his tumultuous past. Every step he took carried the weight of a dark history – a history marred by the echoes of murders, tarnished reputations, and talents ruthlessly extinguished. Yet, as he faced the specter of his own deeds, a peculiar revelation unfolded within him. To Riku, every nefarious act seemed negligible in the presence of the person standing before him.

The flickering city lights cast eerie shadows on their faces as the confrontation unfolded. Riku, once a puppet master in the shadowy underworld, now stood vulnerable, his past sins laid bare. The air crackled with tension as the two figures locked eyes, each harboring secrets and scars that intertwined their fates.

The journey to this moment had been fraught with darkness, but in the midst of the city's whispers and the haunting memories, Riku glimpsed a chance at redemption. The person before him held a key – a key to unraveling the tightly bound narrative that shackled him to his malevolent actions.

As the night unfolded, the cityscape became a canvas for the clash of shadows, a silent witness to the struggle between past and present. Riku embarked on a perilous journey, not only to confront the external adversaries but to confront the demons within. The city, with its labyrinthine alleys and towering structures, became the backdrop for a tale of self-discovery and the relentless pursuit of a negligible second chance.

it’s not as if he was this ruthless killer with no other purpose in life than to keep you safe under his sole supervision, it honestly just started as a means to love you. giving you such ultimately financially negligible things as an increase in payment from merch sales. a whopping 5% of the profits went directly into your bank account. strangely enough, though, riku would never let you participate in romantically themed voice pack sales. maybe it was jealousy, a need to keep your love all to him and no one else.

blacklisting you from every other corporation so you couldn’t leave nijisanji even if you wanted to, considering your boyfriend was the CEO of the company. you were effectively wrapped around his finger with no place to run to. any collaborations between you and talents outside of your four-person generation were immediately shot down by your manager, not only but you’d find a strongly worded letter from tazumi himself at your door a few days later, urging you to not anger him like that again, lest something tragic happen to your finances.

while in a collaboration playing lethal company with the rest of your generation, all their chats suddenly blew up asking them about their graduations. all three were understandably concerned but lo and behold, upon checking twitter, their termination notices had been posted without any of them knowing they’d even been fired. all their notices stated nonsensical reasons behind said terminations, leaving you alone with no one to talk to about the hell you were experiencing at the hands of your boss and boyfriend. one terminated for something as stupid as accidentally using copyrighted music, another for mentioning their past life tumblr account where they wrote fanfiction about who were now their coworkers, and the last for writing a spaghetti x laundry detergent fanfiction on stream.

but to riku, everything he sacrificed for you was simply negligible. all the money lost from the terminations, your own mental state. everything was negligible to him. as long as you were still trapped within his grasp, it was all just negligible.

[inafieldofdaisies]

WIP Wednesday | Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton and @direwombat

Checking-in with some more of John and Sabrina's AU: from Oliver and Leslie coming clean about their wrongdoings to John's no-so-pleasant introduction to his neighbors. Mwah.

Leslie watched Oliver rush in the division, headed towards his desk with conviction. "Fucker is more patient than expected.", he muttered and threw himself in one of the chairs across from him. "I still can't believe you went there to begin with." "I did it for you, and for her. We need to know who exactly we're dealing with." Leslie's eyes quickly darted to his, before returning to his computer screen, "Nothing comes up on him. He's clean." "You ran a check on him?", Oliver asked and gave him a mischievous smile, "You changed your mind, didn't you? You're not giving up on her." "Nothing like that.", the stern look didn't erase his wide grin, "You said it yourself, we need to know who we're dealing with." "Sure. Tell yourself that.", he gestured behind him, "Rina's on her way up, too. Though, with how he was looking at her like he was about to eat her and not his lunch, it might be a while." Leslie frowned at the absolutely unnecessary information, "I didn't ask." "I'm just debriefing you.", McKenzie shrugged innocently, "You don't like it… man up, Leslie, and do something to shift the tide." "Drop the idea. Better yet, drop the pirate puns." "Can't do. I'm loving playing wingman, but you might want to consider hazard pay for good old Ollie." Leslie scrunched his nose, "Do I even want to know?"

"Sat next to the guy, and you know how tiny Rue's booths are. Have to say, my instincts were screaming at me I might get stabbed at any moment. Fucked with him nonetheless. Even made him pay for my food." His eyes narrowed, "Didn't you just say he was patient?" "Patient. But a storm was brewing beneath it all. I can tell when I need to stop pushing, you know.", Oliver leaned back in his chair, locking his hands at the nape of his neck, "He sure almost broke character when I mentioned a three-way." "You-" "Absolutely did.", he appeared as if he was contemplating something, "Icky visuals to picture, between Rina and him looking like you… no offense. I feel like that threesome will scar me and not in a good way." Leslie snorted at the idea, "He doesn't look like me." "Leslie, do you own a mirror?" The door put an end to their argument about the looks of Sabrina's date. The two watched her silently make her way over to her desk, and her flushed cheeks made him question if Oliver had been right about her taking extra time bidding John goodbye. "Any deliveries for me?", she finally spoke up, leaning against her desk as she regarded them the same way she did with suspects. "Nope.", McKenzie retorted quickly, "You waiting on something, Rina? Did you do some late-night online shopping?" "John sent flowers." "He did?", Leslie made the mistake of joining the conversation. "Indeed. So you two just skip to the part where you tell me what happened to them."

"What a frivolous accusation.", Oliver chirped at the same time as Parish rolled away from his desk to pull out the waste bin and slide it over to her. "What?", Sabrina reached out to touch one one of the pitiful roses. "I threw it away." McKenzie swore under his breath at the unprompted confession. A confused frown marred her features, "Why, Leslie?" "Because it was disrespectful as hell." "I don't understand. He sent me flowers. Flowers, Leslie. Why would-" "Read the fucking card, Rina. Not only is he pompous and cliched as hell, but he has no damn shame either.", Oliver cut her off. Sabrina looked between him and the bouquet before reluctantly picking up the card laying on top. Leslie could tell exactly when she came to the realization, her lips forming a small 'oh' before she pursed them in disapproval, aimed at the wrong perpetrator. "Listen, I'm not shaming ya, you ride whoever you want to ride.", Oliver broke the silence again, "I don't give a fuck if he's a lawyer, a senator, hell, even my father, though my ma would take offense. But this,", he gestured to her hands holding the card, "is tacky. Frankly borderline criminal." "Guys.", a sigh, then she stopped. "What? Tell me you love the flowers. Come on. 100 roses or fuck knows how many, paired with that card. To your workplace. Romantic." "Ollie.", Leslie muttered under his breath, "That's enough." "I didn't…", she huffed, throwing the card at Oliver, "I didn't sleep with him."

He, in turn, opened the small piece of paper and presented it, finger tapping the writing on the inside for good measure, "'Thank you for last night.'" "I helped him with something.", she pointed at him, "And no, I'm not telling you after the shit you pulled at lunch. Hell, it's a miracle he still wants to go out again after being hit by hurricane Oliver." "I'm sorry.", the look aimed at him reeked of disbelief, "I truly am. But come on, you can't leave me hanging. I need more that 'I helped with something' to believe it's all innocent." "You're just going to keep pestering me the whole day until I tell you, aren't you?" McKenzie smirked, "Have we met? Damn right, I will." "No word about it. Promise me. Both of you." "We do. Spill.", he said quickly before Leslie even had a chance to respond. "A bat went into his hotel room while he was in the shower or something.", she let out a small laugh, "He called me, freaking out. I helped him to deal with the poor thing. No bats were harmed." Oliver tilted his head, "But can we say the same about his family jewels?" "Ollie." "What? You know they tend to dangle, hence why they'd look like a target…" "Gross." "Just an observation." "Les, any snarky comments from you? So we can move on from the subject." "Nope. Got nothing."

Sabrina cleared her throat, "The flowers are a 'thank you' for that." "I still don't like it.", Parish uttered out. "Of course you don't. You all won't approve of anyone I'd choose to go out with, not just John. Nobody would be good enough." "No. He doesn't have to be perfect.", it was his turn to point at the roses that were a thorn in his eye, no matter their true purpose, "First thing he does out in the open and he's overdoing it, sending you a bouquet you can't even hold without being hidden behind it. Did he even ask if you like roses?" "Roses are perfectly fine." "They sure aren't something you'd pick." "Doesn't matter. It's the gesture I care about. The fact that he thought of me." Oliver groaned at her excuse, "And the card? Can't tell me he didn't know it could be taken out of context." "He probably wanted to make me laugh.", she crossed her arms, fully set on believing she knew a man she just met, "You saw him at lunch. He's well-behaved, a gentleman. He paid for your food, for heaven's sake. He didn't have to." "Sure he is. You forgot weird from the list, by the way." "I like him, Ollie, strangeness included. And I don't want to argue with either of you, all because I went out on one date." Sabrina took a few steps forward until she was standing next to Leslie's desk and offered out both of her hands for each detective to take, "Understood?" Oliver was the first to react, faking a handshake, which made her smile, "Fine, fine. I still don't know what you see in Batman, especially with how much he looks like a slightly shrunken version of Leslie. You better hope nothing below the belt is-"

"Oliver, oh my f-" "He doesn't look anything like me.", Leslie cut in. "But…", McKenzie made a dramatic pause, "I will tolerate his existence." "Batman? You better not call him that to his face." He patter her hand, "No promises." "Les?", her eyes moved to Parish, noticing he had made no move to grab her hand. A few beats passed and he finally caved in. "Fine.", he muttered in defeat as he enveloped it in his, "As long as you're happy, I'm happy." Leslie did his hardest to avoid the pointed look Oliver tried to give him from across the desk, releasing her hand as he added, "We got a tip on Keats while you were at lunch. Right when you left. Seemed promising, but… nothing came out of it." "You went there? Why- why didn't you call me?", her voice rose at the potential of finally capturing a suspect in one of their older cases, "I told you-" "And ruin your date?" Sabrina rolled her eyes, "Oliver was already on that. You should have called." "I was not. Excuse me for going hungry and stopping at my favorite restaurant where you happened to be, too. Not my fault Batman can't handle another man's presence as he's trying to charm the pants off someone. Hell, he should have thanked me for making things more interesting.", Oliver rattled on. "Ollie." "Yeah?" "You were in his space, stealing his food… when you had your own."

"I was testing his generosity.", he argued, "If he can't share with me, how will he be with my goddaughter?" "What am I going to do with you…", she sighed in exasperation, "Now, enough of you trying to distract me and save Leslie from getting an earful about being reckless." "Don't stop at my expense, Rina. I'm waiting for the spanking, you know I love a good show." Leslie ignored his remarks, "It's not a big deal. All I got to see was an empty house." She sent a frown his way at the nonchalant tone he had used, "Doesn't matter. Wherever you go, I come, too. It's protocol." "I was in no danger whatsoever. Keats is half my size." "It's how you go shot last time, Leslie. Going off on your own. Or did you forget it altogether?" It was almost impossible to erase the memory, of thinking he was going to bleed to death after a suspect had blindsided him, only to be found by a good samaritan, passed out in a warehouse the middle of nowhere in a pool of his own blood. A miracle. He still carried the scar of the bullet that had almost taken his life. Had gotten a tattoo near it to remind himself he had pulled through, that he was still breathing. Sabrina knew it. "You weren't even here back then, Rina." "You-", her hazel eyes narrowed as she smacked his shoulder, "No stunts like that, swear it." "I promise." "Good. Because you're not dying on me, Parish.", she said with conviction before setting on trying to salvage whatever she could from the flowers, just as the phone on his desk rang with a new tip.

"So you would advise me against that?", Owen Montgomery asked for what felt like the hundredth time, causing John to pinch the bridge of his nose as he pushed his simmering frustration down. "That's exactly what I said, Owen." "But-", the man started again and he interrupted him before he could slip into another useless deviation from the issue at hand, from the fact he was close to ending up with nothing as settlement. "Do you want to live in a one-bedroom apartment in the bad side of town?", John asked flatly, "Because that would happen if you go against the prenuptial agreement." Owen let out a string of curses, directed at his soon to be ex-wife. "The settlement is more than generous.", he reminded his client, "You wanted the divorce, you either accept what she's willing to give you or find a way to convince her to be more lenient on your own." John doubted the latter was possible, considering the Mrs. Montgomery had a team of lawyers that communicated with Owen on her behalf after she had cut off all contact with her husband. "I-", he stopped himself, silence taking over his side. "Are we clear?" Owen sighed, "Yeah. Thank you, I guess." He hung up with that without sparing any pleasantries. In a way, John could blame his wife for the way she was responding to the divorce proceedings, considering he was not only leaving her for another woman, but also trying to start anew with her hard earned money. Owen Montgomery was what could be considered a nightmare client. Always making demands, not once stopping to consider how outrageous they would get.

After parting ways with Sabrina, John had returned to his hotel, successfully avoiding any encounters with Candice Donovan. He rolled his shoulders and leaned back in his chair, feeling some of the tension that had accumulated thanks to sitting at the small desk for a couple of hours and going over various clients' complaints. If the amount of calls Penny had transferred straight to him was any indicator, she probably hadn't exactly bothered to clear out his schedule either. At some point into his second phone call, he had moved from loosening his tie to fully removing it. He felt like he could breathe easier with a couple of buttons of his shirt undone and was glad he wasn't dealing with his clients face to face after so soon after having to tolerate Oliver. The fact his PA seemed to only do the bare minimum of her duties wasn't helping matters.

Once he had taken care of everything that needed to be addressed immediately, John settled for staying in again and ordering room service after taking a quick freezing shower. Instead of reaching for a towel like he usually did, he grabbed one of the bathrobes hanging in the bathroom as shivers racked his body. His food felt mediocre at best, giving him a sense of chewing rubber and not a meal served at a 5-star hotel. As much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, he was miserable. Disappointed there was no laughter to fill the silence that weighted him down as the hours dragged by slower than usual. Annoyed that Sabrina wasn't there and he was stuck replaying their previous conversations in his head. The fuck is wrong with me? He couldn't figure out why he couldn't stop thinking about the slice of chocolate pie they would have been sharing had Oliver not been at lunch. I miss her? Is that it? That was what he mulled over as he walked to his bed and lay down on his back, enveloped by the soft robe. "At least there's no bats flying around.", he muttered out loud, staring at the white ceiling above him, "It could be far worse." Minutes later, he began regretting his words after getting his first clue in how thin the walls between rooms must have been. It all had started innocently enough, with a female's muffled moan that had made him raise an eyebrow.

"More. Yes. YES.", the sound of the headboard banging against the wall carried over as the woman continued switching between languages and shouting out orders at her bed partner. John had lost count how many times she had praised the man's cock in size, he was questioning if she had ever seen a ruler in her life. If she could even begin to realize how ridiculous her comparisons sounded in reality. If I hear another outrageous metaphor, I swear to God- The woman switched to French again, her voice raising even more, joined by the man's grunts. "I hope you've left your window open, and a bat chooses to visit you, too.", John gritted out as he picked up the hotel phone and dialed reception. "Yes, Mr. Duncan?", a female's voice sounded on the other line. "I'm calling to raise a noise complaint. A couple in room 310 have been causing continuous disturbance." "I'm so sorry to hear that. I will call their room, and sort it out immediately." "Thank you." True to her words, he could guess the exact moment the call was made because all of the noises stopped suddenly. "Sweet silence. Thank God.", John muttered with a satisfied grin, and closed his eyes as he snuggled into his pillow. Yet the peace didn't last long, with the two next door slipping back into their previous activities despite the warning from the front desk. "For heaven's sake.", he shouted and it somehow wasn't loud enough to match the woman's screeches that sounded more like a wounded animal, than somebody enjoying themselves.

As more muffled profanities left her mouth, he reached for the receiver again and dialed reception again. "Yes, Mr. Duncan?" "The issue hasn't been resolved.", he said darkly. "I was assured they would keep it down, sir. I'm not at liberty to do anything aside from calling again." "Call the police for all I care. Just shut them up." "Sir,", the woman sighed, "The window for noise disturbances is from 10 pm to 7 am, I'm afraid-" "Remind me again how many stars does your hotel have?", he interrupted the poor excuse. "I will place another call."

After multiple calls later and the wretched noises persisting, John began to wonder if this was a new form of torture Portland had selected for him. Karma. He almost wished he was back in the diner and forced to listen to random stories from Oliver. Where some would most likely find enjoyment in overhearing a couple in the heat of the moment, he could safely say the prolonged show they were giving the hotel wasn't doing anything for him aside from reminding him he didn't have anyone in his bed, that the only thing keeping him company were his fantasies of her. Then as the sky had already darkened and he was considering throwing on some clothes and just leaving the hotel altogether before he would do anything drastic with his anger raising anytime the headboard would slam on the other side of his wall, his phone rang. He accepted the call, doubting Sabrina's voice would cancel the couple's latest role-playing round. "Hey.", she wore a content smile, her overall demeanor the opposite of what he was feeling at that moment. "Hey.", he forced himself to return her grin, but guessed it hadn't worked if he was to judge by the frown she gave him. "What's wrong?" "This,", he said as he rose up in bed and brought the phone closer to the adjoining wall between the two rooms. "Is that-", she paused, blinking quickly at the array of noises that carried over.

"Yes. They're, excuse my French,", he let out a humorless chuckle at the accidental pun, "fucking. Have been for hours, Detective." Sabrina winced visibly and bit her lip, "And the hotel isn't doing anything?" "I called reception to deal with them multiple times, it's like they're taking my complaints as encouragement." "Jesus." "She's been trying to summon him for a while now." A laugh broke free before she quickly said, "I'm sorry." "Don't be… I can imagine how amusing it could be from an outsider perspective. Me on the other hand… I'm contemplating spending my night in the bathroom." He rubbed at his eye, feeling a headache forming, "I'm close to just going out, and I have no idea where I would even go." "John." "Yeah?" She looked torn, almost like she was unsure if she should voice whatever was on her mind. "Now you're worrying me.", he remarked at her furrowed eyebrows. "I'm thinking." He cracked a small smile, "I see that." The woman in 310 began chanting, making him squeeze his eyes shut as he told reminded himself he needed to remain calm. Monday can't come quickly enough. What I wouldn't do for the universe to stop hating me and grant me a plane ticket before Friday. "Have to say, I'm jealous - I certainly can't hear my own thoughts.", he uttered out, raking a hand through his hair. "John.", she repeated his name, making him crack his eyes open at the shift in her tone.

"What is it?" "Did you have dinner yet?", her question took him aback considering the more pressing issue he was faced with. "No.", he lied with ease, gaze darting to his half-finished plate, to his meal that had no doubt turned cold after being becoming long forgotten thanks to his lack of appetite paired with the neighbors' antics. She nodded but didn't elaborate further. "Why did you ask?", he pushed for an answer, his curiosity fully awaken. "It's probably a weird thing to suggest after we just had lunch." Now you have my full attention. "Weirder than her,", he titled his head at the wall behind him, "comparing her lover's moves to a sledge hammer? Both in English, and French?" A hand covered her mouth as she tried to stop a giggle from emerging. "It's okay to laugh, you know. At least something comes out of my misery then." "You could always march over there and threaten to sue them for harassment… Your poor ears would thank you." "Don't tempt me. Because we might end up with a different situation on our hands." She raised an eyebrow, "Them asking you to join?", all he could do was blink as she laughed quietly, "Kidding. Oliver isn't rubbing off on me, I promise." Chances are things would be getting physical in a different way. "Frankly, I won't be shocked.", he leaned his head on his head, willing for the throbbing at his temples to reside, "Back to the subject at hand - what were you going to suggest?"

Her eyes darted away from his as she looked down, her unease on full display, "Forget I said anything, it's stupid." "Impossible.", he retorted, "I highly doubt whatever it is is more embarrassing than me hiding away from a bat and calling you in the middle of the night. So, try me." Her cheeky smile made a return, "You forgot the naked part." "Trust me, I haven't forgotten. And I'm listening, as much as I can, really." The woman in the other room was back to shouting profanities in French, making him sigh in defeat. "I-", Sabrina cleared her throat, getting a couple of words out before she could change her mind, "I have some leftovers from dinner and since you haven't eaten yet…" Leftovers? His lips quirked up, "Are you asking me to come over?", the unintended innuendo behind his question caused her to frown, so he rushed to add, "I know you don't mean it that way." He was back to gesturing at the wall separating him from all the action happening next door. Her face relaxed at his words, "I am. Yes. But if you think it's too weird…" "Sabrina?" "Yeah?" "Offering to spare me having to listen to them fornicate,", he couldn't help his snarl as the man moved into grunting out lines from his usual repertoire, "isn't weird. I'd call it generous as hell." He was fully preparing himself to slip into an argument how he hated ear plugs, before moving onto invalidating any other simpler solution that stood between him and seeing her again, when she nodded, "Should I text you the address?" The second she asked that, his heart began to thump almost as loud as the couple's bed, causing him to rub his chest through the robe as he mumbled a quiet, "Yes." "Okay." He matched her smile, "See you in a few, then."

Tagging, @josephseedismyfather @adelaidedrubman @poisonedtruth @theelderhazelnut @madparadoxum @cassietrn @corvosattano @florbelles @josephslittledeputy @trench-rot @g0dspeeed @aceghosts @direwombat @strangefable @dumbassdep @euryalex @purplehairsecretlair @voidika @simplegenius042 @thesingularityseries @the-silver-chronicles @nightbloodbix @clicheantagonist @harmonyowl @wrathfulrook @jillvalentinesday and anyone that would like to share something <3