#in this house we love and indulge in hedonism

[theostrophywife]

poison paradise.

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: toxic by omido.

author's note: smutty unhinged theo won the poll. here’s your silly little treat. this came to me in a dream proving that even my subconscious isn't safe from theodore. this is pure filth, but ya'll already know that that's what i do best 🤪

The taste of cherry chapstick lingered on your tongue as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Lost in euphoria, you cried out just as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, dragging you to the depths of sensual self-indulgence. 

Back arching off the bed. Fingers gripping the sheets. Moans echoing off the walls. 

This was hedonism at its finest. 

The heady scent of sweat, skin, and sex permeated in the air long after your orgasm passed, inducing you into a foggy haze as you scrambled to anchor yourself back to the present. Between your legs, your girlfriend lifted her head up with a pleased smirk and pressed a chaste kiss against your lips. 

The kiss tasted like cum and cherries, a sweet and intoxicating combination that sent your head spinning. Hannah hummed, her pretty doe eyes focused on you while your own fluttered open. 

“Babe, I’ve really got to get to practice now,” she whispered softly. “I’m late enough as it is.” 

You chuckled, twirling a strand of her red hair between your fingers. “Whose fault is that? You’re the one who dragged me in here, love.” 

Hannah grinned sheepishly as she pulled your red and gold skirt down. “Can you blame me? I can’t control myself when you’re strutting about in your cheer uniform.” 

“Then go out there and give me something to cheer about, babe. I expect a win against Slytherin tomorrow.” 

“If Potter doesn’t kill me first for being late,” she said with a final kiss to your cheek. “See you after practice?”

You nodded as you tossed her jersey over. “I’ll be here.” 

After taking a much needed shower, you sat in front of the vanity and blasted music as you diligently adhered to your skincare routine. The best thing about having a girlfriend was that you shared everything. Since dating Hannah, your makeup, clothes, and shoe options doubled overnight. 

As you combed through your hair, a sudden knock at the door caught your attention. You figured it was just a courtesy from Hannah’s roommate. Merlin knows that the poor witch had walked in on you and your girlfriend in countless compromising positions. 

Tightening the scarlet robe around your waist, you sauntered over to the door, fully expecting Emma to greet you from the other side. Instead, a looming figure eclipsed the doorway. You were surprised to find none other than Theodore Nott staring back at you. 

While you two weren’t exactly the best of friends given the rivalry between your houses, you and Theo were civil. You sat beside each other in Herbology and occasionally shared a laugh every time you caught him muttering sarcastic remarks under his breath about the ridiculous bloody plants that Professor Sprout had you wrangling during class. 

“Well, what do we have here?” you teased, cocking your head at the dead eyed Slytherin. “A serpent in the lion’s den? What brings you behind enemy lines, Theo?”  

Theo smiled back in response, shuffling a bit and allowing a glimpse of the wine bottle and bouquet of roses cradled in his arms. “Waiting for my girlfriend to leave so I can set this up for our anniversary.” 

You grinned. “Oh, how romantic!” You had always been a sucker for cheesy gestures. It was the hopeless romantic in you.  “Come in, then.” 

To his credit, Theo kept his eyes firmly on your face as you ushered him inside the room. Taking the hint, you quickly excused yourself to the bathroom and changed into something a little less revealing than your silk robe. When you came out, Theo was sprinkling rose petals on the bed. 

“Those are gorgeous,” you fawned over the flowers. “You’re definitely getting laid tonight.” 

Theo smirked in response as he set the vintage wine bottle into a fancy crystal ice bucket. “That’s the plan.” 

Slipping into your fuzzy slippers, you cocked your head at the arrangement. “Wait. I think you set it up on the wrong side. Emma’s bed is over there.” 

Theo nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, I know. This is for Hannah.” 

Whatever warm, fuzzy feeling his sweet gesture invoked suddenly soured at the mention of your girlfriend’s name. “What do you mean it’s for Hannah?” 

“Hannah,” Theo repeated slowly. “As in, my girlfriend, Hannah.” 

The words hit you like the Hogwarts Express. Surely, Theo was mistaken. He had to be. That was the only explanation. “This can’t be right. I’m sure I heard you wrong. You can’t be dating Hannah.” 

The confusion in your face was mirrored in Theo’s features. “And why is that?” 

“Because I’m dating Hannah.” 

Theo stared at you. You stared back. The room fell silent as the declaration hung heavy in the air. 

“Wait,” he backtracked, furrowing his brows. “What? That’s not possible.” 

“We’ve been dating since term started.” 

“We’ve been dating since summer,” Theo countered. Disbelief dawned over his handsome features. “This is for our three month anniversary.” 

Desperate to make sense of the situation, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through your photo album. It didn’t take long to find a recent picture of you and Hannah. “See?” you said, pointing at the screen. “This is us sharing a hot fudge sundae in Hogsmeade just last weekend.” 

Theo’s mouth gaped open as he pulled out his phone in response, scrolling through his pictures just as you had done moments ago. “This is us swimming in the lake last July.” 

The photo of your girlfriend smiling up at the camera while Theo’s arms wrapped around her bikini clad body made your stomach plummet. The confirmation left a bitter taste on your tongue. There was no reason for Theo to be making this up, which left only one possible conclusion. Hannah was dating both of you. At the same time. 

You pursed your lips. “Hannah played us both.” 

Theo looked about as dejected as you felt. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize it,” he muttered to himself. 

“All that tension between you during the quidditch match,” you recalled. The lingering looks that Hannah and Theo shared during last month’s scrimmage flashed before your very eyes. In hindsight, it was obvious that there was more to it than rivalry. 

“You know, I think I saw her kiss you on the cheek in the halls once, but she said that the two of you were just really close.” 

“Oh, we are,” you said rather bitterly. “She’s kissed a lot more than my cheeks. Gods, how could I have been so stupid?” 

“You’re not stupid,” Theo said softly. “How could we have known? Outside of Herbology, the two of us don’t really interact. We’re in different houses and our social circles rarely overlap. If you think about it, it’s actually the perfect plan.” 

“Yes, bravo to our girlfriend for being the cleverest fucking liar in the castle.” You winced at the title. "Correction, ex-girlfriend."

Nott nodded in agreement. "Definitely ex-girlfriend."

"What a bloody mess."

Theo rubbed his temples. “Well, fuck.” The sentiment of total and utter confusion was one you knew all too well. “I am way too sober for this.” 

Without a word, he swiped the bottle of wine from the crystal bucket and popped it open. You stared at him with slight bewilderment, which he responded to with a nonchalant shrug. “What? It’s not like I’m going to drink this with Hannah now after I found out that she’s been lying to me for three whole months.” 

While Theo was taking the perfectly understandable approach of getting absolutely pissed off his arse, you weren’t willing to take the hit so easily. You were angry. Correction, you were fucking livid. Seething in the heat of your fury, you snatched the wine bottle from Theo’s grasp and chugged a good amount. 

“That’s a vintage from my family’s vineyard. You’re supposed to sip slowly to really appreciate the flavor—“ Theo grimaced as you leveled him with a glare. “Or drown yourself in it. That’s fine, too.” 

You swayed on your feet as you gestured dramatically. “I can’t believe she cheated on me!” 

Who the fuck did Hannah think she was? You didn’t need this bullshit. She was the one who chased after you. Before she pursued you, you were perfectly fine ruling this school under your thumb, flashing pretty smiles and innocent doe eyed looks to the unsuspecting masses. You were head cheerleader, for fuck’s sake! You could’ve had your pick of boys and girls in this whole bloody castle. Even worse, Hannah dragged Theo into this too. While the Slytherins certainly had a reputation, he seemed sweet if not a little sardonic and cynical at times.

”I can’t believe she cheated on you.” You added, surveying the now tainted roses and wine. Indignation weighed heavily on every word. You and Theo were both hot as fuck and a complete catch. Neither of you deserved this. “We can’t let her get away with this.” 

Theo sighed in response, taking the bottle from you and drinking a decent amount before wiping his wine stained lips with the back of his hand. “If I’m being honest, this isn’t the first time a relationship has imploded on me. Usually, it’s my fault. But I can’t say I’ve ever gotten cheated on. My ego’s taken a little bit of a blow, but what can we do? She fooled us both.” 

“What can we do?” You repeated incredulously. “Obviously, you haven’t dealt with a Gryffindor’s wrath before. This is a matter of pride, Theo. She hit us where it hurts the most. I say we hit her back.” 

Theo blanched, his watercolor eyes glazed from the alcohol. The wine was no joke. You never would’ve known it from the smooth taste, but this shit was strong. “As upset as I am, I hardly think violence is the answer. My mum told me to never raise a hand against a lady and I don’t intend on breaking that promise. No matter how angry I may be.” 

For the first time in that fucked up night, you managed a laugh. Something about that was so endearing to you. “Relax, Nott. I don’t mean we hurt her physically. That’s not really my style. I have a much more effective way to enact revenge.” Your lips curled into a smile as Theo hung onto every word. “We’re going to wage psychological warfare on our ex-girlfriend, Theo.” 

“I’ll confess I’m a little bit scared,” Theo declared as he gulped down the last of the wine. “And a little bit turned on. Guess that says a lot about me, huh?” 

You smirked as you retrieved the wine bottle and gingerly set it on the nightstand. Theo glanced up at you curiously, anticipation evident on his handsome face. “What exactly is the plan, dolcezza?” 

Whether it was the alcohol or your anger, a devious plan started forming as you looked over your ex-girlfriend’s now ex-boyfriend. “Hannah comes back from practice in an hour,” you stated, toying with the neck of the bottle. “She’s expecting to find me in bed waiting for her.” 

Mischief danced in Theo’s eyes. Up close, you could see flecks of green swimming in his blue irises. Those mesmerizing eyes—the very same ones that had the entire castle weak in the knees—locked on yours. Now that you were single through no fault of your own, you had no reason not to ogle Theo and ogle you did. Your gaze flickered over his lean physique, examining his solid chest and broad shoulders before snagging on the sliver of skin that revealed the hard abdominal muscles beneath his light grey shirt as he stretched. A cocky smirk graced his handsome face when he caught you looking.

Merlin, he was fucking pretty. 

How had you not noticed that before? Oh, right. You were too busy being a good girlfriend. Well, fuck that. 

“Oh?” He murmured, his gaze flickering over you. 

Though you changed into a baggy shirt and cotton shorts, you might as well have been naked with the way Theo was looking at you. His dead eyed stare burned holes into your skin and a shiver crawled up your spine as he gravitated closer. 

“And she will,” you said with a smirk, closing the gap between you. “You’ll just be in it with me.” 

“Oh,” Theo hummed salaciously. 

“Wouldn’t wanna waste those pretty roses you got, do we?” 

The low rasp of your voice seemed to entrance Theo as he shook his head, appearing dazed as you pulled him in by the front of his shirt. “No, no at all. We should…” The nervous bob of his Adam’s apple sent a thrill through your body. “We should definitely make use of them.” 

With a grin, you led him towards the bed. Theo walked backwards, his eyes never leaving yours even as he landed on the mattress. The golden glow of the lamp kissed his sharp cheekbones, its warm hue coloring the slope of his nose, which were smattered with moles and freckles, before emphasizing his wine stained lips. The red roses fluttered around him as the bed dipped, soft petals tickling his skin as he settled against the headboard.

Theo felt like he was under a spell as you crawled over him. He couldn’t tell whether he was dizzy from the wine or if it was just the effect you had on him, but either way, he wasn’t complaining. There were worse things to suffer from than a pretty witch straddling his lap. 

Instinctively, Theo gripped your waist while you settled over him. The sight of you leaning over him, your face mere inches away from his felt like a fever dream. One that he had no desire of waking up from. 

“I thought you liked girls,” Theo whispered softly as your lips brushed over his. Teasing, taunting, tasting. Fuck, what he would give to have you devour him whole. 

“I do,” you replied, tickling his cheek with a rose petal. Theo shivered as the low rasp of your voice pulled him in. “But I like boys too. Especially pretty ones like you.” 

Theo couldn’t help but blush. Obviously, he was aware that he was attractive, but he’d never been called pretty before. He was surprised to find that he really fucking liked it. 

“Don’t flatter me, dolcezza. Not unless you plan on following through.”

“I’ve never been with a Slytherin before,” you whispered huskily. “Tell me, Theo. Will you sink your teeth into me tonight?”

A part of him pondered the slightly fucked up situation that Theo managed to get himself into tonight. Was he really about to fuck his ex-girlfriend’s ex-girlfriend in her own bed? Yes. Did he feel an ounce of guilt over what he was about to do? No. 

Honestly, fuck Hannah. But more importantly, Theo needed to focus on fucking you. 

“Fuck yes.”

When you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, it was over. There wasn’t a single trace of self control in him as he kissed back, his mouth hot and eager against yours. The infamous Gryffindor boldness didn’t disappoint as you moaned into his mouth, your fingers threading through his silky brown waves before tugging in a way that made Theo weak in the knees. As he parted your lips with his tongue, you grinded against him and laughed seductively when he whimpered in response. 

“Yeah?” you purred as you rolled your hips. “You like that, pretty boy?” 

“Bloody fucking hell,” Theo groaned before he kissed you again, rougher this time. 

There was something satisfying about the way he grabbed you, his big hands guiding you to grind over him, providing a delicious friction between your clothed sex. Theo was hard and throbbing underneath you. By the feel of him, you knew you were in for a ride. The sheer size of him was going to absolutely destroy you. 

You pulled away and a glistening trail of spit extended between you as a result of your sloppy make out. Theo panted as you tugged at the hem of his shirt, keeping your eyes trained on him while you licked a path down his abdomen. He watched hungrily as you grazed your teeth over his hard muscles, flicking your tongue expertly while he shuddered underneath you. 

“I can see why Hannah went for you,” you hummed against his tan skin. “You’re hot as fuck. Your abs are unreal and your happy trail,” Theo groaned as you pressed soft kisses along his torso. “It leads to something delicious, doesn’t it?” 

“Fuck, bella. You’re killing me,” Theo groaned as he fisted your hair in one hand. The whimper that slipped past his lips as you palmed his cock was utterly shameless. “You’ve got a filthy fucking mouth, Y/N.” 

“Yeah? Shut me up, then.” 

His head lolled back against the headboard as you released his cock from his boxers, stroking purposefully and savoring the filthy moans that echoed against the walls. Those pretty eyes of his were nearly black with lust as he looked down at you, biting his lip while your tongue swirled over the head of his cock. Licking up his precum, you smirked before fully wrapping your lips around him. 

Theo tugged at your hair and bucked against your mouth as you sucked, licked, and pumped every inch of his thick, hard cock. You knew you were good, but the desperation in Theo’s voice all but confirmed it. 

“Dio mio, right there. Fuck, you’re perfect. Your throat was made to be fucked. You can take it, bella. Choke on my cock, just like that.”

You gagged as he hit the back of your throat. Sucking dick had never been your favorite, but sucking Theo’s dick was something else. He looked so pretty with his waves plastered to his forehead, rosy cheeks flushed as he fucked your face with a dominance that had you growing wetter by the second. Tears streaked down your cheeks as you choked on his cock, but it was worth every second to hear Theo moan your name. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” hissed Theo after a particularly rough thrust. You could tell he was close by the way his body seized underneath you, but you weren’t done with him yet. You wanted more and so did he. “So fucking close, but I don’t want to come yet. I need…Fuck, I need more.” 

You released him with a pop, but kept stroking him with your right hand. “Use your words, pretty boy.” 

“I want to feel you,” Theo whined. “I need to feel your pussy clenching around my cock, principessa. I need you so fucking bad. I’d get on my knees to be inside of you. Please.” 

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” you said as you kissed his temple. “Who am I to refuse?” 

Theo watched as you shuffled above him, barely breathing as you slipped out of your clothes. When you threw your shirt off, Theo cursed to find you completely bare before him. He cupped your tits, flicking his thumb over your nipples before wrapping his lips around them. You could tell he was eager to please and that alone was a huge fucking turn on. It was rare to find a man who cared about pleasure beyond his own, which is why you usually preferred women. Theodore Nott seemed to be the exception. 

With rapt attention, Theo helped you lower down onto his length. He kept his eyes on you as you adjusted, gasping when your walls stretched to accommodate his size. 

“You know, I thought the rumors about you were exaggerated,” you groaned as you sank lower. “But I’ve never been so glad to be wrong.” 

Theo smirked as he nibbled at your earlobe. “What kind of rumors, dolcezza?” 

“That you had a huge dick,” you responded, sounding slightly winded once Theo was finally fully sheathed inside of you. “And that you fuck like a—“ You moaned when Theo shifted his hips to rut into you. He was so big that the minuscule movement felt like you were being split apart. 

“That I fuck like what, bella?” 

Never one to be outdone, you tugged at his hair and grinded against him. “That you fuck like an absolute demon.” 

“Yeah?” He drawled, sliding in and out of you with a cocky smirk. “Well, you’re no angel either, Y/N.” 

“You haven’t seen anything yet, Theo.” 

The sight of you bouncing on his cock and riding the fuck out of him was almost too much. Theo was mesmerized as you used him to get off, head thrown back as you placed your hands on either side of his legs before bending in an angle that he wasn’t even sure was possible for a human to contort to. 

Damn, he should’ve fucked a cheerleader sooner. He should’ve fucked you sooner. 

“I guess you’re not the only one who listened to the rumors. They said you were flexible, but goddamn, this is something else. You’re something else, Y/N.” 

“Oh fuck, Theo,” you keened as you gripped the sheets. “You’re so big. It feels so fucking good, baby.” 

“I like the way you moan my name,” he said. “Gods, I could’ve had this all along. Why was I even wasting my time with Hannah? Sei una fottuta dea.” 

“I have no idea what you just said,'' you panted, picking up the pace. Your legs ached from the effort, but it felt too good to stop. “But I’m soaked now.” 

“I said,” Theo grunted as he fucked up into you and tugged your hair back. “You’re a fucking goddess, Y/N.” 

When he rubbed circles on your clit, you absolutely lost it. The room spiraled around you as you came hard, creaming Theo from tip to base. He pulled out suddenly, making you whine at the loss of contact until he replaced his cock with his mouth. Theo flattened his tongue, licking up along your soaked folds. His nose brushed against your already sensitive clit and you cried out as he lapped you up like a man starved. 

“Can’t take anymore,” you whined, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes as you pushed against Theo’s broad shoulders. “It’s too much. I’m so sensitive.” 

Theo gripped your ankles and spread your legs wider. “Where’s that Gryffindor bravery, bella?” He chuckled, tracing circles on the inside of your thighs. His mouth glistened with your cum and rose petals stuck to his skin as he looked up at you. “Surely you can take more. We barely just started. I want you drenched in tears. Shaking, crying, and moaning my name. Right now, you’re not even close.” 

He sucked on your clit and you swore to Godric your eyes rolled back so hard that you saw heaven. Theo was determined to drive you to the brink of insanity. “I know you want it, baby. Let me make you feel good.” 

“Oh gods,” you cried out as he filled you with two fingers. It wasn’t as much of a stretch as his cock, but the way he curled them inside of you, touching that sensitive spongy spot within your walls made you whimper all the same. “Fuck, yes, gods. I want it. I want you, Theo.” 

A satisfied smile graced his handsome face before Theo flipped you over, pressing you headfirst into the pillows as he feasted on your pussy from behind. There wasn’t a single thought in your head as he unraveled you with his tongue and fingers. It was a deadly combination that had you on the edge quicker than you thought possible. 

“Turn around, principessa,” Theo cooed. “Come ride my face.” 

For Godric’s fucking sake. The man was absolutely insatiable. You liked to think that you had excellent stamina. Most of the time your partners struggled to keep up with your pace, but Theo was seriously challenging that. You didn’t know if you could come three times in a row without passing out, but tonight was as good as any to find out. 

Theo rewarded you with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss before positioning your thighs on either side of his head. You held onto the headboard above him. Part of it was for balance, but mostly to keep yourself from collapsing all together. You felt so overstimulated that the line between pleasure and pain was blurring by the minute, but still, neither one of you had any plans of stopping. 

At this point, you actually couldn’t give less of a fuck about revenge. Hannah had long become a thing of the past. It seemed ironic that you and your ex-girlfriend were in this exact position mere hours ago yet you couldn’t even recall anything past the Slytherin fucking you with his tongue. 

“Theo, oh my fucking gods,” you cried out as you grinded against his mouth. “Right there. Yes, that’s it. So good.” Theo squeezed your thighs in response, which elicited a hoarse laugh out of you. “You like when I praise you, pretty boy?” 

Theo hummed against your clit and squeezed your ass in confirmation. “You’re so pretty when you’re eating my pussy,” you cooed, brushing his wavy locks back. “But you’re even prettier when you’re fucking me.” 

That seemed to be all the encouragement Theo needed. Before you knew it, your back was against the mattress as he hiked your legs over your shoulder. Theo slipped in easily, thanks to the juices coating both his tongue and cock now that he was filling you up again. 

“How’s the view now, principessa?” Theo asked with a cocky smirk. 

You bit your lip as he pounded into you, holding your gaze with every sharp thrust. His tanned skin glistened with sweat and his muscles flexed while he buried himself inside of you again and again, watching you take all of him with rapt attention. His balls slapped against your ass every time his hips snapped to yours, drilling so deep that you struggled for words.

“The best in the castle,” you quipped back, putting on a serene smile as Theo grunted and fucked any and every coherent thought right out of you. 

Neither one of you noticed the door opening nor the sound of the broom hitting the floor. You were too busy staring into Theo’s pretty eyes to care. 

He turned your head towards the door, but didn’t stop fucking you as Hannah watched with her mouth hung wide open. Theo made sure that your ex-girlfriend had a clear view of the money shot as he claimed you with his mouth, moaning your name against your lips as he came with a loud cry. He filled you to the brim and you could feel him leaking out of you and onto the sheets as your eyes rolled back.

Theo collapsed on top of you, sweaty and sinful. As you lay boneless and blissed out of your mind, you couldn’t quite believe that you’d just fucked your ex-girlfriend’s ex boyfriend. In her own bed, nonetheless. If that wasn’t poetic justice, you didn’t know what was. Merlin, you hadn’t gotten shagged like that in—well, ever. The Slytherin really knew how to slither in. You lifted your head to find Theo already looking at you. When you made eye contact, the two of you burst into laughter.

Your ex-girlfriend, on the other hand, was not as amused. “What the fuck!” Hannah screamed. 

Her shrill voice brought you out of the post haze aftermath of your earth shattering orgasm. Completely unbothered, you stretched lazily and waved your fingers at Hannah. Theo smirked as he tugged his sweatpants back on, but opted to remain shirtless as he pulled his oversized shirt over your head like a proper gentleman. You were grateful, since you had absolutely no desire to walk around in your ex-girlfriend’s clothes. Plus, it didn’t hurt that Theo looked absolutely delicious from the afterglow.

You bit your lip, already thinking of all the ways you’d like to have him. Again and again. As often as possible.

With a little smile, you met Theo’s gaze. It was clear that neither of you had any intention of calling it an early night. You had a feeling that you had a lot of sleepless nights ahead of you. Theo looked like he wanted to tear you apart and you were more than willing to let him. “My dorm?” 

“Whatever you say, dolcezza,” Theo said as he slipped his fingers through yours. “You could lead me off the astronomy tower and I’d follow.” 

Theo didn’t bother looking at Hannah as the two of you passed her. You, on the other hand, couldn’t pass up the chance to get the last word in. 

“By the way, we’re breaking up with you. Have fun cleaning up the mess.” 

Theo chuckled darkly as he tugged you out into the hallway, smacking your arse as the two of you raced back to your dorm. Behind you, your long forgotten ex-girlfriend gaped as she watched her ex-girlfriend and ex-boyfriend walk away hand in hand.

[fantasticfupafanatic]

I've Created A Monster

When we started dating you were a fit and athletic deity. You had and enviable body. We were truly in love. I spoiled you rotten. We went out to eat, I cooked for you, I waited on you and served you. We did things a couple does, but I was foolish. I made you lazy and comfortable. Your body began to fatten up. You stopped going to the gym, but your appetite increased. You couldn't be bothered to work around the house either. You just ate and relaxed, rinse and repeat. The once athletic person I had met was gone and replaced with a blob of fat and indulgence. Your belly stuck out, constantly bloated and hard from eating so much. A massive monument to your hedonism. They sat up on your thunderous thighs and astronomical rear. This combo made moving around difficult, not that you moved much anymore. Doors suddenly needed to be widened; furniture needed to be reinforced. But the change in your body was nothing compared to the change in your heart. We once spoiled each other, but that was gone. Now sat a spoiled brat. A partner who demanded what they wanted when they wanted it. Feed me. Massage me. Get me this. Get me that. You didn't lift a finger for anything anymore. Did I stop you? Did I beg you to change your ways? No. I kept indulging you. I fed into your change. Was I scared of losing you? No. I don't want you change is all. I love this new you just as a loved the old you. I may have created a spoiled monster, but that doesn't mean I didn't want to create one. Here's to a life of serving you, you deserve it after all!

[breitzbachbea]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love❤

God, I needed this right now, because I am about to explode from how exhausting and unfair adult life is. And I love NOTHING more than talk about my own shit. Thank you so much, nonnie, I owe you my life.

Perché in Sicilia i morti dovrebbe morire I am aware that there is technically a typo in here, but I don't have the book I quoted around, so I don't know if the typo is already in the source material. Either way, do you like ghosts? Do you like folklore? Do you like places haunted by the terrible things they've seen, objects filled with the absentminded crooked intentions of their owner? Do you like childhood friends, who are the only friends to trust each other with their terrible childhoods, but it doesn't solve anything? Perché is the story you want. Herakles and Michele are sneaking around Michele's house during a power outage, talking about the recent past and ranting about the distant one, while the are some parts in between those that are unspeakable. It weaves the past of Sicily on a whole, especially Palermo's and its hinterland, together with the fate of the Vento family and clothes the terrors of Michele's own psyche into the familiar appearance of the collective Sicilian folklore. Also, if you like two mediterranean guys being way too coddly and touchy-feely, you can give this one a go as well.

Don't Touch The Artwork I like this little pwp one-shot immensely, because despite plot being thinly on the ground, it has so many little fantastic character moments. Team Liechtenstein and Team Austria both get to shine, you get to understand both team dynamics on their own and how single members act with each other across the boundary. Not to mention that it brilliantly works out Hugo's and Alois' relationship - the toxic masculinity, the fragile 'friendship', how both are at such cross purposes with their needs and desires but agree just enough on sex itself to keep coming back to play the doomed game. Next round I'll win, they think, always. They are giving it their all and then it wasn't good enough, because it's not good enough on principle. Either way, if you want to read two guys have a handjob quickie in the restroom of the KHM in Vienna, because they find the millennia of human craft and expression boring - yeah, that's the one.

Between Me and the Goddess (and You) Will you please, for the love of God, read my Imperial Rome setting AU that doesn't rely on some Victorian decadence narrative bc these mfers believed Tacitus blindly. We don't need love slave bullshit and tyrannical hedonism, we need a couple who is so concerned for each other's health that they travel miles and miles for it. We need Harry being so close with Michele that he involves him in Magic - in something that is ought to only be between the one who calls upon a divine Entity and the Entity itself. Michele, who cannot bear a night parted from his love to fix his own troubles, in case Harry's leg gives him grief all alone. Also, curse tablets are inherently funny, so please read this SicIre trip to Aquae Sulis, where Harry wishes plague upon houses for petty theft.

No Rest For The Wicked Tu non fermami se capita! Lo sai che il mare mi agita! Ti canterò di quelle notti ad orienteeee, di quella luna che danzava tra i bazaaaaar! If you are a fan of self-indulgent fanfictions, this is the most unashamedly self-indulgent thing I ever wrote.* This story has everything: The Chaos Seven (Team Sicily and Team Ireland) go on a Turkey Vacay with the Greeks and Turks. Paddy hits his head. Harry and Soph are 100% on their bullshit as if no one else is around. Argueing. Cursing. Flirting. Hera and Sadık so deeply in love in their twisted and yet so mundane way. Italian Music and Sexy Dancing. Bridal Carrying. Please go and read it, 🌀 ohhh you want to read about TurGre and SicIre and the O'Connels soooo badly. 🌀 *All my other OC fics don't count, because I avoid tagging them Hetalia as much as I can, so I don't expect anyone to read it. Even if they are tagged hetalia, no one specifically looks for my OC ships, so while I am glad for every reader, I never write with any in mind.

A lot of messy heads No one ever reads this one, which is. fair. It's just a little episode from Paddy's life with the O'Connels, prompted by his girlfriend's old family pictures. I'm sure people who are open to everything and like family fluff will love this, regardless if they know the characters or not. But if you do and would like to see Daddy Paddy in full action, if you would liked to see a little, young teenage Harry in his moody phase and a carefree, energetic little brat of a Soph - please read this. Please see the children that the characters you've come to known, so baggage-laden, used to be.

[cononeillbreastingboobily]

Hello pls (if you want to) elaborate on your paper comparing minimalism vs. maximalism vs. hedonism I would love to know more?? That sounds like such a cool contrast?

Um. Okay I didn't expect this honestly! Alright, I'll try to put it down as well as I can.

So, it was a paper for my philosophy class. Basically what I wanted to check in it, was which one of those three is the prescription for the hard times we happen to live in (for context I'll say that I live in Poland, and the war in Ukraine is one of the biggest factors that contribute to the "hard times").

And basically the conclusions I come to were that:

a) on one hand living a minimalist lifestyle would be very efficient if push comes to shove and you need to quickly pack the absolute essentials and leave your home, aware of the fact that the next time you see it, it could be destroyed beyond recognition, with all the things you left behind

b) on the other hand it's clear, given the experiences of 2020, that sometimes when we're going through a lot but can't see our friends and loved ones in person, can't leave our houses as much as we'd like to, we might gravitate towards surrounding ourselves with stuff. Which, it might be impractical, but I figure that if you're having a ✨ less than ideal time ✨ , and having this or that thing would brighten your day just a little bit, isn't it worth it?

c) yes, that would contribute to capitalism, which is not good. But I do think that sometimes? It is okay.

d) also, what I find important is how the boom of e-shopping and deliveries back then affected people's psyche. In a world that suddenly felt scary and hopeless, with any far-fetched plans turned to nothing, and a complete collapse of the everyday routine we all got used to, we had to completely re-evaluate our lives, what makes us happy, whether we can replace it with something else, and whether that would be enough for us. Getting a lil package in such a state of mind gave people many people something to look forward to. I can say so from my own experience. Every single day of lockdown was exactly the same. Wake up, brush my teeth, eat, sit on the sofa, read, eat, watch something, go to sleep, repeat. Getting a package was a nice little thing that broke the greying routine, and I think it's nice.

e) plus, I think that yeah, it might be super sentimental to take nonessential things with you when you're on the run for example, but I do also think that having something with you that reminds you of better times and brings you comfort is priceless.

f) if I had to choose between "having" or "being", I would easily choose both if given the choice. I truly don't think any of us were put on this Earth to do just one of those. If we're here and now, why should we limit our existence if we can... not? I was to live long AND prosper, dammit! We weren't put on this Earth to be born, fuck shit up and die. Where's the pleasure? Where's the joy? Where's the beauty?

g) sometimes things are mostly just nice to look at, and that's okay

h) if however, we're talking places, what's important is that it's functional first. Then accessible. THEN aesthetically pleasing.

i) I referenced Plato by quoting one of his works: "The divine is beauty, wisdom, goodness, and the like; and by these the wing of the soul is nourished, and grows apace; but when fed upon evil and foulness and the opposite of good, wastes and falls away." I figured that if an ancient philosopher came to the conclusion that beauty is among the things that nourish the soul, then why should we, in our times, limit our exposure to it? Only surrounding ourselves with bare essentials? It makes no damn sense to me.

j) I think it's important to learn to stop and appreciate what we have right now, and learning to rest when we need to. If you see it as an indulgence, then by god let yourself indulge. You deserve a break right now. Stop hanging onto the weekend, summer vacation, the holidays etc. Try to learn to enjoy yourself right. now. You never know when your life is going to get turned on it's head. Better try and enjoy yourself while you're at it, no?

k) that was the hedonism part of my paper btw. if you even care (jk)

l) fuck doom scrolling. Recent years showed better than anything before how important it is to be mindful in what you let into your space, what kind of stuff you let affect you. A bit of self-care in this regard is also important. It might lead to you getting rid of some stuff, unfollowing some pages or cutting contact with some people you know, but in the long run it will be good for you.

m) most of all: take it easy. Trust yourself, because at the end of the day you're alone with your decisions, as well as the decisions people made for you. Of course, it goes without saying that sometimes life simply happens, and we can't possibly control everything. So, give yourself the space to feel all of your emotions, as well as express them, remembering however that your freedom ends when somebody else's freedom begins, but nonetheless learning to express all of our emotions in a safe way that doesn't hurt others is a very important life skill.

n) of course, as you can probably tell, I can't possibly tell you whether it's minimalism, maximalism or hedonism that is best to turn to during hard times. Only you can figure it out for yourself. And you can get there by asking yourself: what makes me feel best? Surrounding myself with stuff, or keeping the amount of my belongings to a minimum? Remember that the answer to this question will change with time, as you do, since you're a part of nature, and the only constant part of nature is change itself.

Yeah that was... Yeah! That's all! It's a lot, isn't it? 😅😅😅😅😅😅 But anyways, I hope it uhh, gave you a general idea of what... It was about??? Idk. Let me know what you think!

[groupwest]

Wow Moment - Alice Fulton

From the guts of the house, I hear my mother crying

for her mother and wish I understood

the principles of tranquility. How to rest

the mind on a likeness of a blast furnace

framed in formica by anon. A photo of lounge

chairs with folded tartan lap robes. An untitled typology of

industrial parks. The gentle interface of yawn and nature.

It would soothe us. It would soothe us. We would be soothed

by that slow looking with a limited truth value. See

how the realtor’s lens makes everything look larger

and there’s so much glare the floor looks wow

under the smartificial xmas tree.

After studying Comparative Reality

I began Die Polyvinylchloride Tannenbaumserie.

Turn off that tiny tasteful star, I commanded.

While you’re alive there’s no time

for minor amazements. Turn off the sallow pages of

your paralegal pad. I don’t need a light to think

of you. I don’t need a god to pray.

Some things are glow alone. I said one thing you said

you remembered I said. Was it will you be my

trophy friend? Or are you someone else’s

difficult person? I mean the more myself I

become the less intelligible I seem to otters.

I know what you mean you said.

It’s like the time I was compelled to speak

on hedonism to the monks and nuns.

Did I say most religion is devotional

expediency? Or religion doesn’t worry about being

religious, its wisdom corrupted by its brilliance as light

passing near the sun is deflected

in its path. Deep in its caprices,

the whole body thinks it’s understood.

To think otterwise is isolating. When I said

hedonism stressed cheerfulness,

there were disappointed groans. Look, I’m sorry

I gave you an ornament shaped like a hollow look.

I liked its trinket brightness. Just don’t give me

a water tower dressed up as a church steeple

or one of those silly thunderstorms

that hang around volcanoes. See how those teardrop lights

make every object jump? The memory does.

You made me love. Was it exile in honey

is still exile? Am I the fire or just another flame?

Please sell me an indulgence, I begged a monk.

And tell me what creature, what peril,

could craft that sound that night

dropped like a nubile sliver in my ear.

There is no freedom of silence

when morture forces us to speak

from organs other than the heart.

It was something about love. A far cry. It was come to me

unmediated, go to god lengths. In great things,

the attempt alone is sufficient. I think this

’cause I’m finite. That’s an understanding

to which reason can only aspire

though an entire speech community labored

for generations to say it in a fair hand clearly

dated and scented with lavender. My one and only only

a crass color orgy will see us through

the dusk ahead, the months gray as donkey.

See how it grows its own cross of fur

and bears it on its back? I showed you that.

[the-innefable-idiot]

i blame capitalism for people complaining about kinnporsche not having a plot

no i won't elaborate

[queerlennon]

Lesley-Ann Jones Is Untrustworthy

So I’ve seen some people in the fandom reading and citing Lesley-Ann Jones’ biography The Search For John Lennon recently and to be honest it’s concerning to me. Lesley Ann Jones has proved in the past to be an extremely untrustworthy source for info about the people she writes about. I understand that it’s exciting to have a book about John that’s not written by the typical “Lennon biographer” type (aka an ageing straight man) and for said book to also promise to shed light and focus on his bisexuality but, if we’re going to analyse John respectfully and accurately, it’s important to identify sources that are biased and untrustworthy, even if they’re technically within our favour. Especially when it relates to his queerness. And seeing as LAJ doesn’t have the best record when it comes to writing about rockstars’ sexualities in a respectful manner, it’s best to treat her words with caution.

Info about exactly how she’s a bad source is under the cut

Firstly, it's key to talk about LAJ's journalistic background when discussing what sort of writer she is: she's worked for papers such as The Sun, The Daily Mail, and The Mail On Sunday. Essentially, the bulk of her work has been for tabloids and traditionally the writing style for those kinds of publications place an emphasis on sensationalism and gossip. Now obviously that doesn’t discredit her work immediately, authors are usually able to write in more than one style so it doesn’t necessarily mean the tabloid style is going to carry over to her biographies; but it’s good to keep in mind when discussing and analysing the legitimacy of the narratives she creates and the stories she recounts in her work. 

LAJ has received criticism in the past, particularly from the queen fandom of often overexaggerating, or just straight presenting false information in her bios about Freddie Mercury. She is the champion of the claim that Freddie was bisexual and not gay. Her evidence for this is over-exaggerating and (seemingly intentionally) misinterpreting the nature of the relationship between Freddie and his friend, Barbara Valentin. LAJ claimed that the two had a relationship and even lived together:

“Barbara was very open with me about the sexual relationship she had with Freddie.”

(x)

(x)

However, no-one in Freddie’s life has ever corroborated that Freddie and Barbara were anything but friends. As for the claim they lived together, according to Peter Freestone, an extremely close friend of Freddie’s:

In the event, Freddie never actually lived there although Barbara fulfilled a huge role in Freddie’s life at that time... Freddie became very disillusioned when with more and more frequency articles were appearing in the German press’s gossip columns... about the relationship between him and Barbara... After one article claiming to have knowledge of him and Barbara getting married, Freddie... concluded that it could only be Barbara who was providing the information.

(x)

This exaggeration of their relationship and the insistence LAJ has on presenting Freddie as bi because of it has attracted criticism from queen fans for obvious reasons. For one, it’s borderline homophobic to essentially lie about a gay man having a relationship with a woman while downplaying his relationships with men. No, she’s not portraying him as a straight man, however it’s still erasure of the specific struggles Freddie would’ve faced being a gay man in his time, therefore those who want to analyse him would be missing some of the picture when trying to understand him and his life

LAJ’s research methods are also... questionable. This is a post from Crystal Taylor (one of Roger Taylor’s roadies) about her methods for her David Bowie bio which, if to be believed is particularly concerning.

(x)

LAJ is also known to greatly exaggerate her own relationships with her subjects. She often claims to have been friends with the people she writes bios about (coincidently the people she does this with are dead.) Back in the day she would meet with artists while on tour so the idea is convincing enough. However besides her word there’s nothing to suggest that she had close friendships with Freddie or Bowie, two people she claimed to be good friends with. There’s also this comment from Brian May which actually goes against the idea that she was close with Freddie:

(x)

So with all of this in mind, let’s look at the quote from The Search For John Lennon that’s been circulating around Beatles tumblr:

That Bowie worshipped Lennon is no secret. He'd banged on about it often enough. The ex-Beatle had gone to his hedonism. They'd met in Los Angeles, during John's Lost Weekend. I lunched from time to time with David in New York while working there as a music journalist, before he married Iman. He lent me his house in Mustique, to write the first draft of my first biography on Freddie Mercury.

The crazy pair went out to play, according to David, when John was on yet another break from May and far away from Yoko. They genderbender-ed about, John indulging again that 'inner fag' of his. What larks.

They later 'hooked up': 'There was a whore in the middle, and it wasn't either of us,' David smirked. 'At some point in proceedings, she left. I think it was a she. Not that we minded.' By the time they made it back to New York, the ambisextrous pair were 'lifelong friends'.

I’m suspicious of this story for several reasons but first I want to make it clear that none of them have to do with John having sex with men or being bisexual. I’m a very firm believer of John’s bisexuality (my username is literally queerlennon lmao) but once again I think it’s good to examine the legitimacy of sources, even when they favour our position.

Firstly, LAJ’s source for this story is the claim that David told her, which considering I can’t find any info about them being friends besides her word, combined with the fact that she’s lied about having close relationships in the past raises a lot of flags.

But even if we assume LAJ isn’t lying and did know Bowie, the quote is still suspect, particularly the line “John was on yet another break from May and far away from Yoko.” According to May in her book Loving John, her and John had only one break from their relationship (the phrase “yet another break” implies multiple) that lasted a week, and for the entirety of that week, John was with Yoko. (x)

Finally, the language LAJ uses to describe John and David’s sexualities not only puts me on edge but very much makes me question her intention. Phrases like “the genderbender-ed about,” “indulged his ‘inner fag,’” and “ambisextrous,” all come across to me as fetishisation. Bisexuality is already very highly fetishised and sexualised and LAJ is most definitely not concerned with deviating from that representation. That phrasing combined with the way she also discusses Freddie’s sexuality, where she’s alleged highly sexualised claims about him having threesomes:

And quite often that involved other people as well. Other men, other women. There would be a number of them in the bedroom at any given time. In fact they were raided by the police once and the police stormed in and they found more people than they were expecting to find in the bed that morning.

(x)

— leads me to believe that LAJ is an author less concerned with exploring John’s sexuality as apart of his life, something that made him who he was, and more concerned with including details about “bisexual threesomes” as shock value, as a sensational point she can use to to promote her book in press tours and interviews. Like a tabloid writer. And this sort disrespect representation of John’s queerness, imo isn’t that much better than the biographers who dismiss or underplay it. I totally understand that for a lot of us, finding out new info about John’s queer identity is exciting, especially for those of us who are queer and identify with a lot with John for that reason, myself included. But we shouldn’t be giving credence and legitimacy to someone who firstly, isn’t trustworthy and secondly who’s reason for talking about it is gross and exploitative at best and biphobic at worst.

tl;dr, LAJ is an incredibly untrustworthy source of info and in her own over exaggerations, treats discussions of queerness in an extremely problematic and exploitive way so please take anything you read from her with a massive grain of salt.

[rosesastrology]

The house meanings, in depth

1st house (ascendant): how you react, stature, your impulses, instincts, vitality, form and shape of the body, breath, physical appearance, complexion, life, our image, how we are perceived, the self, strength, light, behavior, manner of being, the identity, identification, initiation, the head (headaches), facial features

2nd house: how your voice sounds, abundance of food, assets, stocks, attitude towards possession, wealth, money, concrete values, self-worth, control, banks, personal finance, where you need to feel secure, personal needs, (real or illusional) certainties, neck, vocal chords, material comforts, gain, profit, collarbones, hedonism, hedonist sex, personal material needs, possessive love, jealousy, the senses, sensuality, nutrition, income, gems, jewelry, resources, self-esteem, talents, inheritance from the father, ammunition

3rd house: interactions, communication style, learning, mundane knowledge, logic, extended family (not parents), the color orange, siblings, close friends who feel like siblings, uncles, aunts, nieces, nephews, cousins, writing, education up to university, language, arms, hands, fingers, shoulders, contracts, mobiles/telephones, personal community, friend groups, neighborhood, local vicinity, short-distance travel, travelers, our daily commute, transport, rituals, environment in which we live/work, postal service, regular journeys, letters, rumors, messages, written reports, faxes, journalism, diaries, the press, propaganda, magazines, public opinions

4th house (Imum Coelli): parents (in particular the father), immediate family (Inc. grandparents), our roots, memories, the past, childhood, ancestry, ancestral lands, home life, the private self, what you do behind closed doors, family roots, home, houses, land, mining, oil, minerals, fossil fuels, nurturing, emotional foundation, physical death, foundation of life, karmic debt through family, roots of consciousness, upbringing, ancestral/ethnic traditions, nationalism, final years of life leading up to death, water supplies, ground, quality and fertility of ground, history, funerals, crops, farming, breasts, the chest/lungs, the beginning and ending of all things, wells, deepest region of the underworld, the origin of humanity, graves, buried treasure, drowning, inheritance from parents

5th house: your will, ideas, children, how you express yourself, progeny, pleasure without responsibility, no regret pleasure, joy, fun, romance & sex (NSA), fertility, pregnancy, miscarriages, health and condition of children, creation, hobbies, sports, creativity, entertainment, gifts, luxury, scandals, controversies, indulgence, parties, theatre, drama, parks, leisure, porn, prostitution, dancing, inns, banquets, pubs, art, love affairs, muses, music, clothes, gambling, horse-race betting, betting, taverns, liver, the heart, the back, a honey color, lotteries, speculation, games, resorts, spas, feasts, holidays, leisure, overindulgence, diplomats, recreation, parks, the stomach

6th house: discipline, service, plants, nurturing, schemes, medicine, work, slavery, daily routine, maintenance tasks, mundane work, tasks, accidents, illness, injuries, health, healing, doctors, veterinarians, nurses, death of friends, physicians, animals, pets, housework, chores, infirmity, bones, farmers, caretakers, cattle, weakness, affliction, sorrow, food reserves, dark colors, smaller intestine, lower stomach, guts, liver, kidneys

7th house (descendant): relationships, business partners, romantic love, long-term commitments, mutual commitments, marriage, long-term enemies, what we project on others, partnerships, the spouse, engagement, lovers, fugitives, runaways, escaped convicts, thiefs, the destination, paternal grandfather, butt, lower intestines, bladder, womb, sex organs

8th house: transformations, death, birth, doubt, questions, the occult, material spiritual pursuits such as astrology and tarot, high needs, power, spiritual sex, crisis, the underworld, the devil, demons, mental agony, anxieties, fear, mental illness, inheritance, financial support, possession of others, obsession, other people's money, debt, loans, collective resources, emotional and material richness, power, control, abuse, sexual abuse, taxes, decay, loss, the quality and nature of death, ego death, spiritual death, inheritance, legacies, poison, inner transformation, personal vulnerability sex organs, bladder, groin, gallstones

9th house: higher (classical) knowledge, law, religion, saints, psychology, long-distance travel, culture, foreign countries, belief systems, morals, ethics, race, ethnicity, growth, physical freedom, luck, progeny, prophecies, prophets, where we find meaning, larger than life questions, religious buildings, spirituality, higher education (university and above), teachers, mentors, guides, divination, mystic pursuits, meditation, yoga, mysteries, detectives, mental & physical journeys, lawyers, publishing, the unknown, space, the universe, meaning of life, philosophy, foreigners, dreams, visions, inspiration, astrology, mysticism, books, wisdom, university, scholarships, students, counsellors, advisors, solicitors, cults, God, the freemasonry

10th house (medium coelli): career (not per se everyday work like the 6th), ideals, ambitions, desire for success, reputation, traditions, honors, awards, prizes, recognition, fame, leadership, kings and queens, law, authority, business, social status, inheritance from the mother, judges, magistrates, butt, hips, thighs

11th house: friendship, credits, where you feel as though you belong, community, the collective, adoption (usually a 5th house involvement is present), humanitarianism, collective activism, radicalism, parliament, groups, social network, stepchildren, other people's children, hopes, aspirations, support, assistance, protests, trust, praise, positive hope, broader ambitions for the larger collective, political ideals, supporters (behind the scenes), servants, councils, ambition, freedom, optimism, confidence, personal strength, motivation, security, restoration, mother's money, legs, ankles

12th house: mental freedom, dreams, sleeping conditions/disorders, prisons, mental asylums, transcendence, reincarnation, isolation, loss, institualitzation, insanity, poverty, slavery, step-parents, self-sabotage, paranoia, hidden enemies, hidden pain, emotional baggage, karma, shadow work, addictions, substance abuse, escapism, art, secrets, misunderstandings, being unaware of something, captivity, imprisonment, sorrow, monasteries, scandals, personal fears, hidden family secrets, shame, guilt, regret, scandals, suicide idealism (especially if there are bad aspects between the 8th, 12th and asc), traitors, spies, witchcraft, hauntings, bondage, finances of friends, sickness of spouse, death of the children, mother's kin, underground movements, hospitals, the occult, freemasonry, disease, bad health, hands and feet

Ref:

- skyscript.co.uk

- straightwoo.com

[blacksunscorpio]

Sick page Leo Midheaven. You gained a follower. What placements do you like in others?

P.S. I Love You to the Signs/Placements

Scorpio Mercury’s

..Have silky, haunting voices. I will not know who is speaking or singing but my ears will pulsate and then I’m stuck in a trance. For example, Snoop Dogg has a silvery sounding voice. Could be all the cannabis but I’m gonna chalk it up to his Mercury sitting in all that Plutonic energy. Sza sings in a cursive-esque manner. Like some powerful serpent through water, It’s enticing. The lead singer of the band ‘Chevelle’ has his Mercury in Scorpio and I could listen to him croon forever.

Cancer Mercury’s

...Have ethereal sounding pipes. I think it’s all that moon energy. It’s melancholic but in a lullaby way. Just read me the yellow pages in that voice. Lana Del Rey sings like she’s howling at the moon. Long and mournful and drawn out, like it echoes.

Capricorn Moons/Placements

...I like how disciplined you are. How hardworking you are. Your regimented approach and your ruthless ambition to excel. I could do without some of your cruelty at times and though people can take you for cold, I feel your practical approach to things is something everyone can learn from. 

Capricorn Mercury’s

After the first two, your Mercury placement is everything. It is structured. Haunting. Hypnotic. Anthony Hopkins and James Earl Jones both have this placement. Deep and earthy. Penetrating.

Libra Placements/ Risings

You are beautiful. Period. I love how you try to be diplomatic. How you see the good in people. You have to work on your ability to stand up for yourself a bit more but us cynics need you around to remind us a life of war isn’t the only way.

Arians/Martians

Especially in the 1st house: I love how authentic you are at the ascendant. I love that you don’t take any shit from anyone. You’re not afraid to call out a fake or a phony. When it’s time to go to war, you [all] have been my most loyal allies. You never compromise your ideals or morals for anyone. Your thick skin. Your energy and resilience, It’s admirable.

Taurus Risings/Taurean/Venusian Placements.

I admire your grit and tenacity. Believe it or not, I admire how stubborn you can be. How you love facts and figures. How you speak fluent sarcasm. I admire your elegance and your appreciation for the finer things in life. I love that you are not afraid to indulge in them either. That you realize there is no shame in a life of prosperity. You are what best friends are made of.

Most Elevated Planet as Uranus

I am in awe of your rebellious energy. Your “fuck the world” approach to life. Uranians in general, I admire that you move to the beat of your own drum and find ways to capitalize on it. That Alien energy is so ‘fetch’ ;). This is a placement of the outlaw that still makes a name for themselves. Mafia Boss Carlo Gambino and The Late Great Nipsey Hussle have their Most elevated Planet as Uranus.

Virgo Placements

I love how detail-oriented you are. Virgo Mars’ I love how you care for your health and physique. Though your nitpicking can be annoying, sometimes love comes in the form of correction and you capitalize on this. The rest of the Zodiac need people like you to fact check and clock all the things the rest of us miss. I love how facts figures just come to you out of nowhere. How you, as an Earth sign mesh well with me, Water. How you stay out of Scorpio’s way. Virgo’s are the placement I have had the least issues with.

Capricorn Mars’

I would make love to you forever if I could. Your Stamina is unmatched. 

Cancer Placements [Even the men]

I appreciate your nurturing nature. How you’re always trying to make sure everyone is Ok. How your devotion is unmatched when someone is finally able to get you out of your shell. How protective you get. How your anger is biblical if you or a loved one is crossed.

Leo Placements

You fight for the people you love. How you will start a melee just to protect your friends. How you’re like gravity, and people are simply drawn to you. Your regal presence. I could do without your drama sometimes but even that can be a sight in itself. Your warmth and joviality. Your natural leadership capabilities.

Gemini Placements

I hate you and can’t stay away from you at the same time. You’re fascinating. Your intelligence, how you can piece together an idea with ease. How you can bullshit like no other. The gift of gab, your charm, your cleverness, your ability to debate anything and make fair points at the same time. How you are the social butterfly of the zodiac. Will I ever trust you? Absolutely not. If you fuck with me, will I destroy you? Probably. But I’ve had some of the best experiences conversationally and socially with you around. You light up the room.

Jupiter/Sag Placements

You make me so happy. You make everyone happy. Your jolly nature. Your penchant for exploration. How you love to learn from others. How you’re not afraid to shout and be joyful [even if your other placements are more introverted]. Your ability to connect with people from all walks of life due to your ability to expand, not just your mind but your heart. I appreciate your ability to never stay in the same place for long. This world is meant to be explored and you are the authority on this.

Neptunian/Piscean Placements

You are unrivaled when it comes to intuition. I love your ability to dream, to think up all kinds of fantastic things. How you pick up on the subtleties and nuances that many others miss. How you’re not afraid to be vulnerable. That in itself is a gift. Your talent with music and art. How your serenades could make Orpheus jealous.

Lilith Dominants

Kings and Queens, Your ‘Devil May Care” attitude is savage and I am here for it. You are unapologetic with the way you live your life. You do what you want, eat what you want, fuck who you want, and never mind the consequences. You do what we all wish we had the balls to. Hedonism is not a sin to you but a perfectly acceptable way to live. We should all be brave enough to do as we wish and not care what others think.

Plutonians

I will ride forever for you. This includes Moon/Pluto folk, Venus/Pluto folk, Mars/Pluto folk Sun/Pluto folks, etc. This is why I scream “GANG!” when one of you messages me and anyone who has an issue with it can have a seat in the back with the rest of the bitches waiting for me to give AF. I admire your intensity. I admire how deeply you feel everything. How you own being misunderstood. Your commitment to finding out the truth no matter what. Your unapologetic mission to seek vengeance justice when you’re wronged. How you can cook up a hex/curse like no other. Your devotion is only rivaled/matched to Leo’s. How you can seduce almost anyone with just a glance. How you accept and embrace sexuality and don’t apologize for it. How you’re able to read minds. Your tactician-like approach to everything. How you don’t fear the dark, but rather embrace it.

Chiron Dominants

...Or those with strong Chiron aspects, thank you for trying to heal everyone even when you’re hurting. Your ability to teach and know just where someone needs a pick me up is everything. There is a special place saved in Elysium for you.

[ghostfilesbish]

I posted 13,589 times in 2021

630 posts created (5%)

12959 posts reblogged (95%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 20.6 posts.

I added 2,644 tags in 2021

#asks - 465 posts

#dead poets society - 374 posts

#tfatws - 256 posts

#bucky barnes - 253 posts

#sam wilson - 251 posts

#shane madej - 229 posts

#taylor swift - 224 posts

#ryan bergara - 213 posts

#watcher - 197 posts

#nct 127 - 182 posts

Longest Tag: 70 characters

#🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Come darling, let's paint the walls we'll never visit again with colours our memories bleed onto our love

Let's dance in the storm till the blood gets washed away

Let's follow the trails hedonism has drawn for us, indulging in sins becoming our second nature

Come honey, let's abandon all notions of safety, pick up flowers from graveyards and pay our respects to the evil men

Let's become nothing but a distant tale, a rumour that leaves a funny taste on their tongues

Let chaos become our style, crime our way of life,

Become anything but those still porcelain dolls, holding broken dreams and stolen dreams within

Let's stain our fingers with mistakes, crack our ribs with accidents and scar our bodies because we never stop

Come love, let's tattoo our souls with magic from empty highways and crowded rooms, losing ourselves in you and me all over again.

126 notes • Posted 2021-05-29 14:28:06 GMT

#4

People who say they love summer because "you get to wear shorts and eat ice cream and have fun", you can do all of the above in winter/monsoon too if you stop being a little bitch about it

133 notes • Posted 2021-10-11 12:45:05 GMT

#3

A soft forest fire

Keeping me warm, tastes like secrets and 3am smiles

You lit me on fire, kept me safe from the blaze outside, a riot of dark clouds and white shadows

You splattered stars onto my empty sky and drew flowers and vines in the dark edges of my void

Colours exploded, fire grew and you stood there amidst it all, a soft glow in the golden collision

You were the high I couldn't get off of, but honey I never knew you

I saw you, fading and shining in the haze of my delusions,

A image with no life, a watercolour painting without the blues and yellows

A dream that haunted me, unattainable and beautiful, so distant yet within reach

Will you take me to your meadow again, kiss me among the daffodils, or drown me in the pond beside your house?

Trap me in your mind darling, tear me apart and stain your walls with my tears

Let me in, scream the colours into my soul and pull me into the current.

Be real honey, become my sunset and ember in the storm, be mine

Tagging @lilhappylilsad @it-is-what-it-it-iss @johermione @floralbeast @moonylupinhasdemonpox @the-girl-who-cried-wolf @moobrvoobl-moobmoob-oobmpoobroom @ambrosial-flower @samalaingik @ughgclden @dismwas @academic-on-a-midnight-dreary @lostintheskysworld @hyacinths-on-my-grave @purple-magic-13 @mais-e @therealchrisnoel @putting-down-roots

Let me know if you wanna be added or removed from the taglist<3

184 notes • Posted 2021-08-24 13:19:02 GMT

#2

Don't worry darling, you haven't lost me

You'll find me trapped between seasons in your closet,

And the second cup of coffee you made in a habitual daze.

The messy scribbles in the pages between your files,

And the haphazard calls made in the twilight shine on your balcony

You'll find me there, hidden and forgotten in the shadows of your routine

You'll sit on your couch and find my hair tie in between the cushions

And smell my fragrance in the crowds that overwhelm you in rush hour,

You'll find me if you search deeper and look farther.

Don't worry love, I'm not truly gone

I still live through the films that captured my happy cries,

And the voice notes I left you when dawn still hadn't embraced your sleeping figure

Every sunset you're scared of watching without my hand in yours,

I'll be one among the worn out yarn that hangs from your sweater.

In the little bottles of salt and jars of fairy lights,

You'll find me lingering and lost, but never truly gone.

My lingering touches still stay on your skin no matter how long you scrub.

So I'm not truly gone love, I still remain in the ghost of your smile after my lips met yours mid-laugh.

Hold on a little more, and you'll find me

Lmk if you wanna be added or removed from the taglist

@lilhappylilsad @it-is-what-it-it-iss @johermione @floralbeast @moonysbungeoppang @the-girl-who-cried-wolf @moobrvoobl-moobmoob-oobmpoobroom @ambrosial-flower @ughgclden @dismwas @sheslostcontrolmp3 @samalaingik @lostintheskysworld @hyacinths-on-my-grave @moyadorogayas @mais-e @therealchrisnoel @putting-down-roots @cwossiants-69442-404

205 notes • Posted 2021-11-25 12:20:14 GMT

#1

This may be just an observation, but I think most ppl in the DPS fandom are having a bad day emotionally/mentally (me included, my anxiety is really bad today and I feel like I'm sinking below ground), so I hope you all feel better soon and remember you're worth everything and more, you are not an inconvenience and you are loved and appreciated🌈✨

470 notes • Posted 2021-05-21 06:47:37 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[mirrorballls]

* liana liberato, cis woman + she/her | you know rory hanna, right? they’re twenty-two, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, their whole life? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to cool by soccer mommy like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that loud pen clicking rapidly in the corner of kahlo’s, collegiate sweatshirt two sizes too big, and constantly waiting for that deep breath of relief: a longing hope that one day, it’ll all settle down thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is august 26th, so they’re a virgo, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

hey team.

admins made poor decision and let me take up two more muses. i want to plot but we all know i’m butt ass slow at getting to those messages so. i’ll probably make a day of that once i finish starters this all makes sense in my little twisted head.

basics.

full name:  aurora catherine hanna. answers exclusively to rory. birthday:  august 26, 1998. big three:  virgo sun. aquarius moon. capricorn rising. sexuality:  bisexual. occupation:  social media manager for the local paper. neighborhood:  lives in her childhood home on orion avenue.

bio.

rory was born the youngest of three and it shows. i’m not saying third child syndrome is real, but if it is, rory has it. her family was seemingly average in every way: the white picket fence, the house on orion avenue, parents happily married, and not many curveballs coming their way. but as the youngest, rory has always been more of a self-starter. from a young age, she was both fiercely independent and constatnly doing whatever it took to get her parents attention: it’s a paradox, but it’s who she was. she burned the candle at both ends, making sure she was taken care of, on the right track, but always looking for a pat on the back about it.

education had always been a priority in the hanna family: both of their parents were teachers and they were sure to instill a sense of how important an education was. and it left marks on them all in a different way. for her brother, it meant pursuing teaching (smiles at austin) and for her, it was turning her education into something competitive, something she was so passionate about getting the absolute most out of, she was willing to go to extreme lengths. she, like many others, will blame it on the aftermath of gifted-and-talented programs, and being made to feel like she had to achieve at this high level or fail, no middle of the road.

and so, school became almost her singular focus. she was naturally clever, smart enough to learn little ways to come up for air, but for the most part, it was always at the forefront of her mind. and for that, she became her mother’s prize jewel. she would beam and laugh and joke with her bookclub friends about how rory would one day be at duke with the best of them. and her third child syndrome just ate that up. she loved the attention and the praise that dedicating herself to school got her, and she’d do anything to keep that high for a while.

so high school kind of sucked. she had her sights set on duke and knew, that to actually be able to go, she’d have to get enough scholarship money to make that feasible. because the more she talked to her mom about school, the more she indulged her desire to see rory succeed, almost as if she was living vicariously through her, school kept getting bigger. because at first it was getting to the top of her class. then it was duke. then it was law school, preferably ivy league. they had it all mapped out, ready for rory to just succeed and make it happen.

but obviously it’s not as easy as just succeeding. for four years, she was stretched thin. she got involved with as many clubs as she could, she took as many ap classes as her bloated schedule would allow. she played it cool around her friends, whenever she was actually able to see her friends, but for the most part, she spent high school holed up in the library or her bedroom studying and working on whatever paper or project would click her along on her way to duke.

but it all paid off. in the end, she got into duke, and was able to check off that box. but she also got into university of north carolina, and they were a lot more generous with the scholarships. she got a full ride, and with ambitions beyond undergrad, it just made sense to go ahead and take it, save her money for the big league law school she would pick out later. plus, she still got the satisfaction of knowing she got in, she had done enough to impress them, so she convinced herself that was all the payoff she needed.

she majored in journalism and political science, always with intentions of it being a solid base for law school. but she always had a preference for her journalism classes. she got really involved in campus publications and, while it wasn’t all consuming like high school extracurriculars had been, it was something she loved. she loved writing, she loved piecing together each week’s issue, she loved exploring her world through that lens, getting to shine a spotlight on the good and the bad in her community. if she had it her way, she’d pursue that full time. but she didn’t think that was possible.

about a year ago, around the time she was working on law school applications, her parents got divorced. it sent shockwaves through her family, rory and her siblings were largely blindsided by the decision, and it brought her to reconsider a lot of things. seeing her mother in this new light, it felt like half of her decisions for the past ten years had been made to please someone she felt like she didn’t even really know.

so, partly out of hedonism and partly out of spite, she decided to defer law school, eventually deciding to all together not go. she was breaking the cycle and doing something for herself for once. she would take her degree and pursue journalism, she would keep living with her dad and largely cut out her mom, she’d become the person she wanted to be and not who she was expected to be.

but living an amazing life out of spite is harder than she expected. she’s working on finding her footing again, but she didn’t expect to be out in the real world so soon. she took the only job the local paper had available, and she’s hoping to work her way up to writing and editing more, but for now, she’s taking what she can get.

personality wise she’s very determined and stubborn when it matters but she’s also always been a little impish. when she took breaks from studying to go out, she wanted it to count, so she’s been known to raise a little hell. just wanted to make sure she didn’t read as fully joyless nerd even though she is like at least a third joyless nerd.

connections.

high school friends!! rory came back to irving on the weekends/in the summer, but she kind of fell out of touch with a lot of her closest friends from high school. i picture her to have been close with a bunch of other smart girls with ambitions, so maybe its just a matter of them all being in town again to get back in the swing of things

summer flings!!! she hasn’t done a lot of dating dating, but she was prone to messing around a little in the summer. maybe ur muse was apart of that! they could be on the same page as her or maybe they wanted something more and it just didn’t pan out.

former rivals!!! maybe if they were in high school at the same time, your muse and rory were rivals. they still be rivals, and your muse has the upper hand since rory gave up on law school, or maybe they’re more on the same page now.

im very bad at thinking of these. but i would love to make plots with you all :)

but im gonna keep this short and sweet because i have Another Intro to write.... ugh

[ric0cheted]

distraction tactics (fic)

In which Geralt needs to sleep, Jaskier has no chill, and Yennefer is perfectly happy to take one for the team. 

(aka time for messy, shoddily-written witcher porn(ish)! all hedonism, zero redeeming qualities. all sorts of permutations of geraskefer. they’re all fucking in my world, lads.)

Upon returning to the manor house, Geralt managed exactly three things: getting undressed, bathing, and crawling into bed.

He wouldn't call the residence at which Yennefer had--temporarily--allowed himself and Jaskier to stay home, exactly. But it certainly beat out the ratty, shit-smelling inns that the nearest town boasted. 

Especially since Geralt's most recent hunt had lasted two days longer than it should've, the monsters had numbered threefold more than they should've, and the coin he'd been paid hadn't reflected either of those developments. Thank the gods he'd managed to, for once, convince Jaskier to stay back. 

All told, Geralt was looking forward to nothing more than sinking into the mattress and letting sleep take hold.

Which meant, of course, that barely three minutes of blessed silence passed before Geralt heard someone kneel beside the bed. He cracked an eye open, right in time to see Jaskier swoop in for a kiss. Geralt rolled his eyes and indulged it, winding his hand in Jaskier’s hair and moaning despite himself when Jaskier's tongue curled around his.

Jaskier pulled away, grinning. "Bring us back anything good?" Jaskier was feeling particularly agreeable, then, if he was referring to himself and Yennefer together like that. "Absolutely fine if the answer happens to simply be your lovely Witcher self. Because we missed you quite a bit." Without further ado, Jaskier slipped under the covers and plastered himself to Geralt, the distinct aroma of arousal wafting from him. 

Geralt had a tendency of forgetting how solid Jaskier was under his clothing, tailored as they were to lend a deceptive waifishness to his frame. Geralt was still taller, still broader, but Jaskier could drape himself across Geralt and cover a good stretch of his body. Much like he currently was. Geralt usually appreciated it, but this time his muscles ached in protest.

Geralt snorted. "Jaskier, I'm fucking tired. I don't even know if I could."

"I'll be good for you," Jaskier promised, kissing Geralt's throat. "Or be good to you. Whichever you'd like." His voice broke into a purr towards the end of his sentence.

"Jaskier," Geralt groaned. He wrapped his fingers around Jaskier's waist, the slimmest part of him, regretfully. He was a hair's breadth away from dislodging the bard himself when Jaskier yelped and jerked out of his grasp, nearly tumbling off the bed.

"You're insufferable," Yennefer told the bard from where she stood in the doorway. Jaskier sat up and rubbed the side of his head, which Geralt could only assume she'd magically slapped. "Now, come with me. I require assistance, and it seems as though yours will have to do.”

Jaskier sighed, deeply put-upon. "You never need my help, so I'm going to assume that you've finally decided to murder me." Jaskier gazed at Geralt with woeful eyes. "Geralt. Geralt. I expect at least a full year of mourning out of you. Also, I'd like my lute donated to a museum, possibly one devoted to the paraphernalia and personal effects of the continent's greatest artists."

Geralt didn't even stay awake long enough to roll his eyes, much less wryly ask why Jaskier would go with her if he was so convinced of his imminent demise.

***

Geralt awoke an hour later. He would've desperately liked more, but it seemed as though sleep would elude him for the moment.

It was all Yennefer and Jaskier’s fault, Geralt thought, grouchily, dragging himself out of bed to bitch at them. He hadn't seen where they'd vanished to earlier, but he didn’t need to guess at their whereabouts, given the overwhelming scent of lust and sex drifting from the library. He'd smelled it in his fucking sleep. It had woken him up. 

In retrospect, Geralt really, truly wished there was something that could've prepared him for what he was walking into.

Dressed in a soft, lace-trimmed robe that ended at her thighs, Yennefer lounged in an armchair, using one hand to page through a thick tome and the other to feed blackberries to Jaskier, handsome and unclothed at her feet. Jaskier was reclining against the chair, one knee pulled to his chest, tilting his head back to take the fruit from her with shocking obedience. His mouth closed around it and Geralt could see his tongue licking at her fingers. Jaskier's soft lips were berry-dark, but his chin and cheeks glistened with something else. His cock was hard, leaking, and untouched.

Geralt choked on his own saliva. Jaskier's eyes, half-closed with bliss, flew open. Their gazes met. Geralt blushed, and then, to his utter bewilderment, Jaskier blushed, scrambling to arrange his limbs in some semblance of modesty and opening his mouth to blurt something out. 

"Geralt." Yennefer said, calmly, twisting her fingers in Jaskier's hair to cut him off. "How was your rest?" Her hold was tight and kept Jaskier from looking away from Geralt. Geralt had no such excuse for failing to tear his own gaze away.

"Fine," Geralt wheezed. It was a terrible lie, but the blood that should've been making its way to his head was traveling decidedly southwards. 

"Good," Yennefer hummed, as though nothing were out of the ordinary. She relaxed her grip and petted Jaskier's hair instead. "Now, it took quite a while to get him like this, and I'd hate to see all of that time and effort undone. Do you intend to stay?" 

Jaskier tilted his head into her touch. There was a still touch of embarrassment about him, burning hotly in his eyes and cheeks, but a dizzy lust was starting to bleed into it. He relaxed his legs, just slightly, letting Geralt catch a glimpse of his cock. It was still very, very hard.

Geralt's mouth watered, his own cock making a valiant effort. But he'd been telling Jaskier the truth, about the degree to which he felt as though he was about to unravel at the seams and fall apart.

Besides, there were things that Geralt hadn't quite worked out about Yennefer and Jaskier, together, certain intricacies to their relationship that Geralt didn't feel equipped to navigate when exhaustion was making him feel the weight of each individual bone in his body. This seemed like one of those occasions.

"I'm going back to sleep." Geralt forced out, voice strangled. "Don't fuck each other to death before I wake up." Taking the coward's route, he turned and fled, Yennefer's peal of laughter following him out.

Geralt made it back to the bedroom and immediately started rifling through the chest of drawers. After a moment of searching, he found a vial of the sleep potion Yennefer had once specially brewed for him. He paused in consideration. It did work, but it was difficult to make, expensive, and usually only granted him a few extra hours, given how quickly his Witcher metabolism burned through it.

Distantly, he could just barely make out Yennefer's purred oh, good boy, followed by Jaskier's low moan. Without hesitation, Geralt downed the entire bottle and welcomed the sweet embrace of sleep. 

***

Geralt slept for three or four more hours before the potion wore off. It took the edge off, at least, bringing him firmly into tired from his previous death walking.

He was stretching, trying to ease the tightness in his muscles, when Jaskier slipped into the bedroom, freshly-bathed and smelling of Yennefer's various soaps and oils. He met Geralt's eyes and blushed. 

"Ah! So. About that." Jaskier rubbed the back of his head and flashed Geralt a charming, sheepish grin. The bruised look to his mouth spoke more of thorough use than of berries. "I--"

Rolling his eyes, Geralt looped his arm around Jaskier’s waist and pulled him down into the sheets, savoring his surprised yelp. After all, his cock was now very, very capable of participating. 

***

Geralt left Jaskier passed out and drooling on the bed to seek Yennefer out. It took a little longer without the ludicrous trail of arousal to follow, but he eventually found her in the alchemical workshop.

She'd traded the shimmering cream of her robe for one of her traditional black dresses. Jaskier probably could've waxed poetic about the finer points of this particular garment compared to the others. Geralt couldn't tell the difference between them like that; he just knew that she looked beautiful in all of them.

Geralt made his way to her and nuzzled at the hollow of her throat before tugging her in for a kiss. Yennefer wound her hands through his hair and deepened it, tilting his head for a better angle.

After a moment, Geralt pulled away. He'd come here to see her, but he figured he might as well ask. "So, about that." 

"Oh, that," Yennefer replied. There was a vaguely smug twist to her lips. "I've found that he occasionally benefits from a firm hand and something to keep him...occupied. For everyone's good, really." 

"For everyone's good," Geralt repeated, dryly, as though her comment didn't have his cock perking up.

"Yes, for everyone's good. It isn't my fault that you both woke up and turned us down." Her lavender eyes glinted. "Consider joining us next time. It'll likely be impossible to keep him behaved with you around, but there's fun to be had, regardless." 

"Next time," Geralt growled, sliding his hands down her body. He couldn't stop picturing it. "How about you wait until I'm awake."

"No promises," Yennefer purred, allowing Geralt to lift her up onto the nearest unoccupied table. "But maybe. If you're lucky."

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Crimson Shadows 2

Jercy Vampire AU: Percy

masterlist; information post for fic

I was debating whether i should change traditional things like greetings but then i realised this is my fic and im writing it for purely self indulgent purposes so like i could if i wanted. Thanks for joining in on my hedonism! Please enjoy.

Perseus steps onto the creaky wooden floor of his ostentatious 16th century mansion and mentally reminds himself for the two-hundredth time that he needs to get someone in to fix it. The worst thing about being immortal, he has come to learn, is that he procrastinates everything ten times harder. At least his teenage self would be impressed with his tactics, even if his mother was rolling in her grave.

The house is unusually quiet for an Orion morning and he strains his already sonic hearing to catch the sounds of silent footfalls and bustling bodies. But the wind rushes through the space and there are no other noises. A flutter gives in his chest as he steps into the kitchen to find breakfast waiting for him and a note folded neatly next to it.

Hey Doc,

Twins have gone to Bharatanatyam class and Hoku went to the beach. I’m just picking stuff up at the grocer, be home in a jiff.

- Keeya

He releases a breath and sits down at the table with a smile. The delicious smell of eggs and blood hit him as he takes off the cover to reveal a plate of eggs benedict, hash-browns and a small glass of ichor. He shoots down the blood, content to let it work through him as he gobbles down the heavenly breakfast. He knows Keeya cooked because she was always experimenting with food, always in here creating dishes and making them beg to eat whatever is giving off that sublime smell. Just as he cuts into a hash brown he hears the door shut and hurried footsteps rushing towards him.

“To the Sun,” Keeya flurries into the kitchen, face blocked by brown paper bags stuffed to the brim with what he’s sure to be her latest concoction.

“Amongst the Stars,” His lips twitch in amusement, “Early morning?”

“I couldn’t sleep so i-” Her voice muffles as she busies herself packing items in the pantry, “-thought I’d start on breakfast but while i was looking for an eggs benny recipe i came across this golden cake and-” Her head pops out of the pantry, black eyes flashing with excitement, “Doc when i tell you i almost died right there, it sounded so good. Anyway of course i had to leave immediately to get all the things we didn’t have.” She finally collapses onto a stool across from him and takes a breath.

He hides a laugh and waits for the rest of the story, because with Keeya there is always more. 

“Anyway i get to the shop-” She starts. He covers his inescapable laugh with a cough. “And they don’t have desiccated coconut. Can you believe that? I mean it’s the main ingredient in the damn cake. So I was panicking a little because it’s the closest shop open at that time, the others I'd have to take a train for which is so inconvenient?” She gives him an incredulous look. He nods seriously; inside he is fighting off giggles. “But they found some in the back, thank the stars, and then I just grabbed a few things because it’s ‘make your own pizza’ night and I think some people from the Araw house are joining us.”

“Sounds fun, is Elouan going to be here?” He pops the last bit of poached egg in his mouth and looks at her expectantly.

She makes a disapproving face, “No, he’s off with his new partner. I don’t trust them at all.”

“Why?” Perseus is on guard immediately, fingers curling, hair sensitive, and gums stinging with the need to unsheathe his fangs. 

“Their vibe is off,” Her nose scrunches up, “Like they’re used to getting into trouble and bailing out.”

“I’ll tell Elly to be careful but maybe go with him next time Kee,” He suggests, a tentative look in his eyes as her own widen.

“All we’ll do is argue, and besides, he hates me hanging out with his friends.”

“Ever asked him why?” He has a feeling about it but he’ll never voice it. No, the two can come to their own conclusions. After all, they had forever to figure it out.

“I don’t care why. He’s a dick and I'm not interested in anything he has to say.”

He shrugs but leaves the conversation, and the kitchen, so Keeya can do her thing. He has some admin to do anyway; a dreary task but one that must be done all the same. Besides without the twins and Hoku the house is absurdly silent, so he needs something to occupy himself.

His study is actually a little desk situated in their library. It’s his favourite room in the house for the opulent fireplace that stays lit through Baridi and serves as a soot-slide in Caldu, and of course the books which although he doesn't read many of, remind him of his mother. He has been alive for almost three hundred years and there is hardly a day that goes by when he doesn’t think of her. For every part of him that isn’t human, there’s a part of her that makes him so. He stares up at the portrait of her hanging near the doorway, painted by a friend long gone and with a loving smile gets to work.

He sorts, and signs, and stamps, and notes in an endless cycle until finally his finances are in order, his donations are chequed and his letters are sealed. He’s sure Hoku will groan endlessly about receiving yet another letter under their pillow and try to explain that email is much more convenient and faster for everyone. Perseus tilts his head to the ceiling and watches the stars dance as he plays out the conversation in his head.

“Doc, I really appreciate the effort you put into sending us letters but this is not the eighteenth century, just use email.”

“Hoku i like the letters, they’re personal and calming to write.”

“Doc, emails are more convenient and i can take them anywhere.”

“Okay I’ll stop giving you letters. I’ll just give the others.”

“What? No? That’s a terrible idea. I still want my letters.”

And they would have the conversation every month without fail. It is a rather amusing part of the routine and sometimes Perseus purposefully makes Hoku’s letters a little longer, just to bother them. A secret best kept as such, but funny nonetheless.

“DOC!” A voice screams through the house, shattering his ear drums.

The twins.

He steps out of the library, and half jogs to the source of the noise, which he discovers is coming from the entertainment room. 

“To the Sun, you two.”

Serafina looks up first, her brown eyes shining with never-ending energy. The anklets on her feet jingle as she runs towards him and slams her body into his. He holds firm as he catches her and wraps his arms around her shoulders.

“Amongst the Stars,” She mumbles, face buried in his shirt.

“How was Bharatanatyam?”

She gasps, stepping out of his embrace and squealing with delight. “Doc we have to show you what we learnt! Aaru come!” Her dark eyebrows knit together as she focuses on her brother.

“Tusa Aarush.” Perseus smiles, squatting down so he’s level with the boy. A little hand, the colour of cherry wood, reaches up to give him a high-five. A standard greeting for the quiet brother; a complete opposite to his outgoing sister.

“Aaru are you ready?” Serafina comes to stand beside them, after setting up the sound system.

He nods and moves so they’re in the middle of the room. Quickly they do the opening prayer before Serafina bounces to the sound bar and presses play. The sweet, sturdy music fills the room and then they're going through a whole routine. Stamping their feet in a rhythm that matches the beat perfectly. Aarush pinches his fingers and fans them out. A closed flower opening, he recognises. They do a series of moves all impressive and beautiful, before the music fades and they pose, breathless with exertion and excitement. 

He claps enthusiastically and opens his arms for hugs. “You did wonderfully!” Serafina slams into him. Aarush gives him another high-five. “When is the performance?”

“Not for a long time Doc.” The little girl says, as if he should know this. She heads off to fiddle with the speakers. 

“In two months,” Aaru answers. His voice is clear and even. He is quiet but not soft. “In Pluto.”

“Ah, I'll make sure I have it down in the calendar.” The little boy's face lights up like a stadium and Perseus’ heart clenches with love. The twins had only been living with him for half a century but within the first year they had him completely wrapped around his fingers. Their claimed age is ten but their true age is one hundred and two. He found them shivering behind a dumpster in Orman, their skin stretched across their bones and that rabid look of underfed vampire in their eyes. He had taken them in and given them blood and a bed for the night, which turned into a week, and then a month. Before he knew it he was bringing them to this house in Roshani where they had immediately fallen in love with the city and made it their home.

“Fina, i’m going to shower.” Aarush states and without further flurry he leaves.

“Is everything okay with classes? All of them, not just Bharatanatyam.” Perseus asks the talkative twin.

“Yes,” She nods, unclipping her anklets. Her voice lowers, serious bleeding in. It is hard to forget their age, true or claimed, when this happens. Because suddenly their bubbly little girl who flits around the house and talks your ear off and throws herself into everything with the vivacity of a ten year old, disappears. In her place is the century old girl who has experienced more of life’s pleasures and hardships than most of the world can only begin to imagine.

“We’re covered for everything. And Aaru starts teaching a new linguistics course on Monday so he’ll have some cash to fling around. Although,” She rolls her eyes, “We all know he’ll just put it in his account and let it sit like a fat cat.”

He laughs, flicking her nose at her distaste for her brother’s complete lack of spending. “He likes to invest in stocks and give it away. You know he doesn’t hoard.”

“I know i know,” She grumbles, scrunching her nose, “I just wish he’d spend some on himself.”

“I think he thinks you spoil him enough.”

“I don’t spoil him nearly enough. Most times I try to buy him something and he just shuts it down. Like last Draco i tried to buy him that new puzzle he was talking about and he just slammed my laptop shut.”

She looks so put out he can't help but giggle, and when she scowls at him for it he pulls her in for a hug and kisses her head. “He likes to do things with you. Maybe try getting things you guys can do together.” She brightens at that, and he can see the gears turning in her sharp mind. “Alternatively, save up all the buying for special occasions like Birthdays or Turning or Koro day.” She hums in acknowledgement but her thoughts are still going a mile a minute so he steps out and lets her work it through.

The house is alive again: Keeya is still in the kitchen, and by the sounds of it Hoku too, begging for something. Elouan still isn’t in and he cannot stop the trinkle of worry that falls between his ribs. Trying to keep it out of his mind he walks towards the noise and is greeted by the site of countertops covered in dishes filled with all sorts of delights. The smell is enough to put him in a coma. And Hoku sits on the counter, pale blue eyes puppy-wide with pleading. He glances to their wrist and sees the sunshine yellow band. She/her today then. It gets exhausting, she had told them, to continuously have to announce yourself to the world, especially when you didn’t know how the world would react. 

“Hoku,” Keeya sighs, “I am not giving you the poli until you go and change. You smell like seaweed.” The coconut-stuffed pastry pockets sit on the counter, still piping hot from the oil they had just been fried in. 

“Awww come on Kee, i just need one. I’ll pass out in the shower if i don’t get it and then it’ll be all your fault.”

Keeya’s eyes roll so far back he’s worried she’ll get them stuck behind her sockets. But they roll forward and give Hoku a very pointed glare.

“Get your ass out of my kitchen and go and shower, you irritation!” She scolds; rendered a little ineffective by the flour smeared across her cheek which is a startling contrast to her brown-scapolite skin.

“You are the absolute worst.” Hoku sulks as she slides off the stool and trudges to the entrance. "Tusa Doc.” The sigh is heavy and he struggles to keep in the laughter threatening to spill past his lips. It is never a dull moment in the Aarde House. Perseus collapses onto the stool Hoku had just vacated and lets loose the smile he had been trying to hide. Keeya returns it with one of her own and then launches into a conversation about her latest creations.

Hours later they had moved from food talk, which made him unfathomably hungry, to her teaching, to his own escapades and ideas. She laughed as he recounted the night out he had some weeks ago and the beautiful blue-haired person he had taken a bodyshot on. But soon the sun is sinking to the city floor and the people in the house emerge from their various rooms to congregate in the kitchen, which serves as the house hangout spot. Keeya had packed most of the food away, save for a loaf of fresh bread and the poli Hoku had been begging for. She puts the kettle on and starts up the coffee machine, chattering away as she did. 

Aarush shuffles into the room and immediately takes up a spot next to Perseus. Serafina and Hoku walk in next talking about knee pains and sore feet.

“Did you guys bother to put ice packs or kinaesthetic tape on?” Keeya raises an eyebrow. They both stick their tongues out at her, and move to sit on the opposite side of the table.

“Hoku,” Aaru settles his brown eyes on her, “Will you teach me how to do the splits? My Bharatanatyam teacher says i need to learn to be more flexible.”

Hoku is already nodding enthusiastically, “Of course A, i can absolutely teach you. But you should know flexibility doesn’t come from doing the splits it comes from muscle control and ligament manipulation.”

“I read up about it but i don't feel confident enough to try on my own.”

A gleam enters Hoku’s blue eyes, “You should come with me to a ballet class. Elouan is doing piano for us next week in preparation for our concert coming up. We’ll be able to get the studio to ourselves for a little while.”

“Sure,” Aru shrugs, “Sounds fun.”

“Why didn’t you ask me for help?” Serafina tugs her twin's sleeve, looking at him with hurt in her eyes.

“I didn’t want to bother you, and besides Hoku teaches ballet I figured she’d be the best bet for me.”

Serafina looks like she’s going to say something, argue maybe, but then the last of their little household walks in and conversation drifts.

“Past the Moon, Elouan,” Perseus smiles at the oldest of the group, save for him.

A floppy smile transforms a pasty face. As he hobbles towards them, leaning heavily on his walking stick, he mumbles a round of greetings.

“How are you?” Keeya asks once he’s settled into a chair next to her.

“I could do with some food and maybe some blood but otherwise just peachy.” His moonlight white curls fall into his face and he pushes them back absentmindedly.

“Can we finally have the poli now?” Hoku glares at their baker, rebellion already flashing in her blue eyes.

“Dig in you little heathen,” Keeya shoves the plate towards her and they all descend. 

Tea and coffee are passed around as well as small glasses of blood for any of them that need it. Perseus and the twins refrain, having had their fill at some point during the day but they happily dig into the coconut pastry and drink copious amounts of coffee.

“So,” Elouan says around a mouthful of poli, “Who’s coming with me to the Red Queen tomorrow?”

“Me!” Hoku shouts immediately. Ever the party animal.

“I’d love to.” Keeya mumbles behind her tea, suddenly shy.

“No thanks.” Aarush pulls a face and goes back to stacking the knives into a precarious tower.

“Fina? Doc?”

“I have to work on stuff for varsity but maybe next time.” Serafina shrugs a shoulder, her brown eyes glazing over as her mind goes back to working a mile a minute.

“I’ll let you know after our dinner tonight. I think some of the Houses want to call a meeting tomorrow to discuss funding and housing in a few cities.”

“You should invite them along,” His white eyebrows knit together in thought, “You guys should invite anyone you want.”

“What’s got you so friendly?” Keeya gives a suspicious look.

“Arrow said they wanted to meet you.”

Her face pulls into something resembling horror, “Uh never mind i think i have stuff to do, maybe next time.”

Elouan pins his honey eyes on her and they look more like the sting of the bee than the gold of the nectar. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“I don’t trust them.” She bites out, setting her mug down with a hard crack.

“You don’t even know them. You’re just being judgmental because they’ve turned a few innocents.”

“It’s not just that Elouan,” Where he is the sky, Keeya is the earth. “They are leading you to the dens and soon you’ll be following in their footsteps.”

Perseus was content to ignore their argument and continue talking to everyone else or eating his way through the feast, but that angered whisper steals his attention. “You’ve been going to the dens?”

“I went twice and i didn't even do anything.” He rolls his eyes.

“It’s not about what you do El,” Keeya’s voice is lethal with fury, and worry. “It’s about what gets done in there.” 

“It’s not safe Elouan. Not only for you but if something happens you put a target on all of our backs. And I will not have you endangering anyone in this house just to look cool for your new partner.” There is no compromise in Perseus’ hard green eyes.

The younger vamp sees this and nods once. “I won’t go to the dens again, Doc.”

“Right now that we have that sorted,” He leaves no room for further say on the topic, “What do you need us to do for dinner before the Araw House gets here, Kee?”

He sees her hide the emotions still burning in her eyes before she claps her hands and puts them to work. And when the members of the Araw house arrive there is no lingering anger suffocating the kitchen. It is bright and loud and messy. It is home.

“Tamo, tamo, everyone!” Musical greetings come from the front of the house and a few seconds later Drew Tanaka and Charles Beckendorf appear in the doorway, as radiant and deadly as always.

Drew looks devastating in a blood red jumpsuit and a gold choker glittering at her neck. Charles has a hand wrapped around her and looks just as sinful in an emerald green suit lined with the most startling azure. His wedding band glints in the soft yellow lights of the kitchen and the two rubies encrusted in it match the band around Drew’s finger.

“Towards the Moon, old man,” Drew sits down with the grace of a dancer who has been perfecting their art for centuries. 

“Who are you calling old man?” Perseus scoffs, “I’m only one month older than you. Besides Charlie is the old man.” 

The subject in question rolls his eyes and shoves both their shoulders, flashing his fangs. His wife just laughs waggling perfectly sculpted eyebrows that suggest more than any of them are willing to interpret.

“Where’s the rest of your chaotic crew?” He motions to the lack of people that usually surrounded them.

“They’re all busy tonight, something about the Safe Haven Sound.” Charlie shrugs, “I’m actually surprised none of you guys went. It was apparently some big event.”

Hoku makes a face that means trouble. Nobody stops her. “It’s mostly for new vamps trying to enter the world. There’s a lot that can go wrong. We tend to stay away.”

Drew turns to her sharply, “Who runs it?”

“The Underboss.” Hoku makes another, more disgusted face.

“Actually,” Keeya says quietly, “It’s the Underboss’ lackey that runs it. The Underboss just owns it.”

“Ugh i hate that slimy little shit more than my ex.”

“Hoku,” Serafina frowns, “Give Luke some credit. At least he was hot.”

Perseus lets a smile loose at that. “Octavian is not ugly, he’s just ghaunt.”

“Doc,” Elouan raises a brow, “He is a ghost.”

“Literally? Aarush frowns, the first thing he’s said since their guests arrived.

“No,” Drew has a contemplative look on her face, “At least i don’t think so.”

“He was part of the Trials.” Charlie adds “That’s what i’ve heard anyway.”

Perseus shudders inwardly as he remembers those dark times. Power-hungry people, people who had no right to participate in their world, had taken it upon themselves to try and create their own supernatural creatures. It was a horrible, terrifying time for humans and duniyarall alike. They had stopped it before it had become the war it intended to be but it was deemed unethical to kill the products of those experiments. So, even today, a century and a half later, there are still Triallers- as they had been so creatively named- roaming, existing, living. For the most part they seem to be peaceful, despite being created for violence, but there are some like the Underboss’ lackey that still give an off-vibe; like feral is just around the corner, one blink away.

“How about we make some pizzas?” Keeya interrupts their conversation before they dive into what will inevitably become a two hour discussion.

“Let’s!” Serafina claps her hands, and Hoku matches her as they hop up and dive towards the fridge where cut and readied ingredients sit.

The evening is chaotic, and bright and full of laughter. They discover that between all their years of life, none of them had ever learnt how to toss pizza dough. Charlie and Keeya make a deal to go to Italy and learn before the decade is out. Drew sees the trip as a chance to get a tan in the beautiful Italian heat, and be fed delicious food straight from her husband’s hands. They make the most of the evening, a rare and peaceful one that recharges the energy in them like bolts of lightning. Perseus hasn’t felt this content in many many moons. 

Soon enough, however, it is just Elouan, Charlie, and Drew sitting on the velvet couches of their lounging area, chatting quietly as they sip various expensive liquor.

He looks at his friends, the gentle glow of the chandelier striking their features. They are beautiful. It is a warm kind of beauty, noticeable in the softness of an expression, or the happiness of a moment. They’re angelic.

“Doc?” Elouan drags him out of his quiet admiration.

“Sorry?”

“Drew and Charlie were just discussing what to do about the hotel on Palace road,” The moonlight caught in his hair ripples as he speaks. “They wanted to find out if you’d be okay with extraction?”

Perseus nods, considering the angles, the necessities

“I don’t feel it’s right to go in armed.” Charlie looks around the room, that composed intensity washing over them. “They’re children, and they’re probably scared.”

The frown between Drew’s perfect brows deepens. “I heard there’s cubs and sangrinos inside.”

“Who’s getting them food? How do they leave? What’s keeping them there?”

A loud ding sounds from someone in the room, and Elouan scrambles to reach his phone. The screen is bright in the dimly lit space and he has to blink hard to adjust his eyes, but then he lets out a curse and rushes towards the door, leaning deeply into stick as the anger worsens his limp.

“Everything okay El?”

“Just Arrow.” He waves it off, “I’ll be back before sun.”

Perseus just nods, watching as the large wooden doors slam shut behind the vampire. When he hears the front door bang, he stands, bowing to his guest in a sign of quick return and steps out of the room in search of members of their household.

“Keeya, Aaru.” He calls from the parlor.

They arrive within seconds, her with a face mask on and her dressing gown half tied, and him with charcoal smudges on his cheeks, and a loose paper in his hand.

‘Doc?” Keeya frowns, sensing the urgency in his aura.

“Elouan just stepped out to help Arrow. Please will you two trace him, make sure he isn’t going to the dens. Don’t make yourself known until you know it’s safe.”

“Armed?” The steel reflecting in Aarush’s dark eyes calm Perseus’ nerves.

“No.” He doesn’t need to cause trouble with the Underboss. “Just make sure Elouan is okay. No violent blood is spilled tonight at your hands.” The volatile expression on the little vampire’s face lessens only a fraction. They both nod at him and disappear into their rooms to ready themselves.

He goes back to the lounge, and continues his discussion with his friends. When he hears the front door close, the quiet click echoing in his mind like a drum, he tells Charlie and Drew what is happening.

Drew, ever the mother, is immediately righteous, demanding she send out some of her pack as scouts. Charlie just holds her hand and looks to him with that expression that so often graces his face: how can we help?

Perseus smiles at Drew and her anger, understanding how she feels. “It is okay Tanaka,” He reassures her. “I’ve got it covered. We should talk about the children.”

She growls, and he can hear the wolf in her throat. “You will let us know if you need help Perseus.”

“Yes,” Even Charlie looks adamant, unstoppable. “We will not be in the dark again. Not when it comes to our own.”

He breathes, and it has taken two centuries to get here. To this moment. “I will ask for help if the time comes.”

“The Underboss is holding them in the hotel, and bribing them with food to join her army.” Just like that they move onto the next problem. The next call for help.

“Well then,” Perseus grins, and it looks like the first signs of destruction, “i guess we’ll be paying the Queen a visit.”

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

Elouan my love what are you doing????? Also: Who do you think the Queen is? *sus eyes*

Tags (if you want to be added to/taken off the tag list all my channels of communication are open):

@msdrpreist; @sparkythunderstorm; @aalikun; @crazy-stupid-bean; @queen-of-demons-and-hell; @pjo-hp-things; @nishlicious-01; @spoopylucy; @larrikin-is-a-himbo; @cyra04​; @leydiangelo​; @elecsinnerz​

[purgatoriorpg]

VANAGLORIA.   ⟡   HECTOR SOLORZANO.  ⟡   27,  M.

CROWNED BY GLORIOUS ABUNDANCE AND TRIUMPHANT ACCLAIM, YOU STAND TO INHERIT PARADISE. AND YET IT IS THE ANNIHILATING LURE OF HELL THAT BECKONS TO YOU. Descended from a long and illustrious line of conquerors and pioneers, you are the first-born and only son of an empire without end. The culmination of the largest merger and acquisition in the twenty-first century, you were created with a single purpose: to succeed. The scion of a self-made entrepreneur that built one of the world’s leading construction companies and a blue-blooded real estate heiress, you were a boy king with all that the sun touched at your feet. Your parents invested everything they had into moulding you in their divine image, from private lessons in rule and conquest, to the art of war and politics in half a dozen languages. The path to greatness made no concessions for leisure or respite, but you became increasingly adept at channelling any scrap of time and diversion you had into your stolen escape. Hedonism, revelry, debauchery, excess—anything you could sink your teeth into was fair game. You craved complete and utter abandon, the uninhibited freedom to live, to indulge even for just a moment, in the fantasy that your life was your own. Is it hubris to long to be the master of your own fate, or hamartia? You have turned yourself inside out, from shell to skin to ichor, starved for purpose and meaning that doesn’t exist, hollowed out for want of something real. Heaven and eden hold no power over you anymore; if you have to go to hell itself to claw your freedom from the throat of god, then so be it.

DYNAMICS.

SUPERBIA,  AVARITIA,  ACEDIA  &  GULA.   ⟡   THE BEAUTIFUL AND THE DAMNED.

You were the children of old money and ancient houses, inventing new and proliferous ways of defying your circumstances with careless anarchy. The original circle of friends sworn to no higher purpose than pleasure and endless self-gratification. They knew everything and nothing at all about being chained, shackled to your predetermined future like Prometheus on the mountain. GULA was your first and oldest friend, the one who led you down the road to perdition, and the one who you abandoned there. The others with their glittering smiles and lavish, extravagant lives without imperative, never truly comprehended the depths of how well you knew him. He was a time bomb. A dying supergiant going supernova, hungry for the entire universe, ravenous with the desire to consume all that lay in his path. A part of you wishes you had let him do it. Envies him for it. You killed him—premeditated and orchestrated his death down to the alibi and autopsy. And yet you loved him, you all did. You cannot conspire to kill someone the way you planned to, if you did not love him enough to sink each knife into his back. 

LUXURIA.   ⟡   I WENT THROUGH LIFE HALF-AWAKE BEFORE YOU TOUCHED ME.

This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story. In the grand and glorious design of your existence, love would be an incidental byproduct of your prospective marriage. An unexpected consequence of a business transaction. And so you didn’t go into it thinking of love. Maybe that was the first mistake. You have never known how to commit to something without devoting blood and bone to it; you have never been a man of half-measures. He found you lingering on the precipice of sleep and nothingness, pulled you so hard and fast from life lived half-awake, you couldn’t even pause to gasp for breath or sanity. In a way, he ruined you. In a way, he was the only real thing you have ever dared to let yourself touch. You burned, blazed, incendiary whenever you clashed and tangled, tearing into each other like you could strip each other down to the marrow, run your fingertips, your lips, across each streak of raw wanting. You think of all the things that are forbidden, with him—a future, a life, a right to live. Things that you never would have thought to ache for if you hadn’t tasted love and learned what hunger truly meant.

FALLACIA.   ⟡   EITHER WE EAT GOD OR HE EATS US.

How does that old saying go? Keep your friends close but your enemies closer. FALLACIA is not quite an enemy, too mercurial and volatile to be a friend, but nevertheless, she is a weapon in an arsenal you can’t afford not to have. In the battle between heaven, hell, and purgatory, she and her brother perched above the fray like twin seraphim. Or wraiths. Whatever they were, perfectly identical in their remove. You needed them. It was merely convenient that FALLACIA had played ally and conspirator to you long before the time came to get away with murder. Her unique sense of immorality and justice, her uncanny attention to detail and reasonable doubt, made her an unparalleled advantage. If Julian was to die, you would need her and her brother, and all the damnation and hellfire they could ignite. Like any good strategist and serpent in the garden, you knew not to push when you could pull. You gave her the ultimate choice: the ignorance of bliss, the sin and sacrilege of infinite knowledge. 

CLOSED.   ⟡   FC: ALEJANDRO SPEITZER.

[love-takes-work]

Ace/Aro Amethyst headcanons

Some people headcanon Amethyst as asexual and/or aromantic. I think that's pretty cool.

Unfortunately, some people are really hostile to this idea. Sometimes in a way that's problematic.

No, I'm not going to tell you you have to headcanon Amethyst as asexual and aromantic or else you're an acephobe. That's silly. Here's the problem: I recently came across a post on Reddit where a member of the Steven Universe subreddit demanded to know where the "stupid" headcanon of ace Amethyst came from and opined that it's ridiculous because that orientation does not "fit her personality."

Think about that for a sec, y'all.

Sexualities don't have personalities. This is a problem.

If you follow some of the interviews Rebecca Sugar has done over the years, especially lately, she sometimes talks about her growth toward understanding herself as bisexual and why it took her so long to figure it out. It was partly because media representation of characters follows a certain system, and as a result she'd been led to believe bisexual people were aggressively sexual, greedy, unfaithful, and extremely desirous of attention.

"I didn't know you could be a SHY bisexual," she said, and you can hear the wonder in her voice at that idea.

So let's really consider that, please. Any orientation can have any type of personality. And if you pigeonhole someone into what their orientation is likely to be because of how you interpret their personality and what messages you've internalized about what traits go with the way they are, you are probably contributing to this damaging message.

Moving on: full disclosure. I'm an asexual Steven Universe fan. I'm also aromantic. And anybody who says asexual people wouldn't have a personality like Amethyst has probably never hung out in a room full of asexual people. (Uh, I have.) 

There are shy people in the groups. There are conservative people in the groups. There are easily offended and sensitive people in the groups. But you will also find bawdy asexual people cracking gross jokes, asexual people who nevertheless turn everything into a sex joke, asexual people who are sex positive and even occasionally promiscuous or interested in sex. (If you don't understand how that's not a contradiction, I'll just leave you on your own to read some asexual education, because I'm not actually trying to go there with this post.)

Personally, I was raised by a rather crass mom whose sense of humor led her to blurt "IS IT A PENIS? BWAHAHAHA!" at the start of every round of Pictionary. She taught her daughters sex education early because she wanted us to know the facts, and though she joked about sex a lot, she also made it very clear that she expected us to make sex a part of our lives when we were older, and didn’t want us to think it was shameful or should be hidden. She gave us access to birth control in our mid teens and made sure we had the resources to make good choices about sex. It wasn't embarrassing or weird in our house. And even though I turned out ace, my siblings are straight and married. I grew up making ridiculous sex jokes and not being at all shocked by sexual humor or sexual situations. It was all just a good time and an accepting atmosphere. It was also okay that I didn't desire it myself. It didn't mean I couldn't dish out the innuendo with the best of them.

And yet, sometimes when I've come out as ace to someone and then they notice I use swear words, or am not horrified into covering my face during the movie's kissing scene, or have done things they really don't expect asexual people to enjoy, I'm treated to this weird mixture of shock-and-mock:

"Whaaaaat? Aren't you too PURE to use language like that, young lady?" "Plug your virgin ears, girl, we're talking about ADULT THINGS." "Don't worry, I won't mention S-E-X. LOL triggered." "She wouldn't be interested. It's about relationships and she thinks that's ICKY." "GASP! You just used the F word! Wait isn't that ironic?"

No, having a vocabulary that includes vulgarities and being tolerant of other people's desires is not inconsistent with being asexual. Being asexual means I don't feel sexually attracted to other people. It says absolutely zero about my behavior, and nothing I do is "wrong" behavior for an asexual person, because I am doing it.

Back to Amethyst.

Asexuality is a dicey issue for discussing Gems because technically they're all asexual. They are not a sexually reproducing species, so there really shouldn't be any reason for them to desire each other sexually. But they do seem to want intimacy and closeness in some situations, and there's definitely romantic attraction between some of them. It's sometimes hard to tell whether "sex" would be a concept available to them (besides Gems who shapeshift to mimic how humans do it), because it is after all a family show and sometimes you have to wonder if the relative chastity of some of the romantic scenes is due to the intended audience.

Amethyst has been more than once described by Rebecca Sugar as Dionysian. She was set up as an opposite to Pearl's Apollonian nature. If you don't know, Apollo vs. Dionysus is a concept of Greek origin that's often used in literature to set characters at odds with each other. Apollo is everything Pearl is: rational, clean, proper, perfect. Dionysus instead embraces the mess, just like Amethyst: Dionysian characters are sloppy, unruly, chaotic, and (this is important) hedonistic. They do what feels good.

Given this, I understand the root of why some people feel asexuality and Amethyst wouldn't go together well. And all things considered, it's true: Amethyst seems, to me, like the kind of Gem who would try anything, especially if other people seemed to enjoy it and especially if abstaining is portrayed as prudent and restrained. She's a let-it-loose kind of character. It's hard to imagine someone like her, who loves to eat, sleep, hoard, and be lazy, wouldn't have tried a few rolls in the hay, right?

Well, sure. Maybe.

And yet we've seen no specific evidence of it.

She could choose any form but she's never seen trying to change herself to look sexy; she's displayed no particular intimate or romantic interest in anyone beyond casual physicality and warmth; she's the only main-four Crystal Gem who hasn't been pursued romantically by a human; she's a little insecure and seems to crave attention sometimes but never spins it as a need to be fulfilled by romantic attention; she never expresses that she wishes she was someone's partner. Who knows? Maybe she's tried it out, found nothing she liked, said "Eh," and decided it's not her bag.

Hedonism is about embracing what feels good. If those kinds of relationships just didn’t feel good for her, I could see her just deciding they were boring and still fully embracing her other Dionysian qualities. She can indulge in naps and eat all the food in the fridge and hoard all the garbage she wants . . . without that indicating she must also possess and pursue amorous relations.

There’s also the fact that a minority of asexual people are like “eh, screw it, I’ll try it,” and don’t find sex completely objectionable or might even like it. (Not all, not most, not me, but this does exist.) They still may not desire it the way non-asexual people do, or may experience no attraction despite having neutral or positive feelings about the act itself. Who knows? Amethyst could be like that. We’ve seen her eat food that she doesn’t even like, just ‘cause it’s there. Some people take or leave sex like that.

And if you say her "type" necessarily incorporates promiscuity or a large sexual appetite, or you say she couldn't be ace because she's not uptight and strait laced, you're buying right into the damaging stereotypes about asexual people.

It's certainly not acephobic to headcanon Amethyst as bisexual or pansexual or lesbian or whatever you want. And it's fine if you believe the closeness she’s displayed with others that I interpret as friendship or non-romantic intimacy is actually a different flavor. What's NOT fine is saying Amethyst CANNOT be asexual or aromantic because of weird beliefs you have about what ace/aro people would be like.

Further, asexual people unfortunately don't have that much representation, and usually we're reduced to embracing absence as evidence. If a character isn't shown to "like" anyone that way, whoa, they might be ace! It's so very rare that a character does actively say or do something that indicates their lack of attraction. We often have to see ourselves in the "not yet" if we want any representation at all, running the risk of having our headcanons smashed as soon as a writer decides a certain type of attraction in a relationship will make that character interesting. But at least we're in the same boat as every other fan there. What we want to happen isn't necessarily what will happen.

And for those who think Amethyst might be ace and/or aro, she's such a great example of someone who isn't defined by the overly cautious, conservative germophobe who's obsessed with logic and conflates their abstention with purity and righteousness. I get really tired of asexuality being tied in with those traits because non-ace writers can't imagine ace people without sucking fun and flexibility out of their souls. (And on the flip side, isn't it wonderful to have the logical, organized, clean, perfect character be a giant lesbian? This is one box queer women rarely see themselves put in, but I know they're out there. I'm friends with a few.)

As for me, do I headcanon Amethyst as asexual or aromantic? Honestly, I am not very invested in this theory. 

I can see it and I could support it in a debate if someone asked me to. But I think Amethyst could turn out to be anything; really, the most likely thing for her to be is fluid. I think she's cute with Pearl sometimes, though Pearl having a mom vibe and being so much older and having other attractions does give me pause. I think the idea of her with Peridot or Vidalia is interesting, though Peridot more than Amethyst reads as possibly ace and there's more built up between her and Lapis now. I could even see her with another tertiary character someday; I wouldn't bat an eye.

But Amethyst as ace and/or aro would also make complete sense to me and might even fit best with her livin' free and unbound attitude, and when you look at the asexual flag, Amethyst is certainly dressed for it.

[hermannsthumb]

I absolutely loved the one where Newt came to look after Hermann when he though he had consumption and I was wondering if there was any chance you could do a short sequel? Something to do with Newt being dissaproved of by Lars? :)

i can’t really tell you why but the FINALLY cool weather we’re getting has put me in the mood for this au again....pls enjoy some hermann “yearning” gottlieb

part one of the fic

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Hermann rarely allows himself fits of indulgence as extreme as oversleeping, but on the occasions he does, it is always on days such as today: cold, wet, gloomy. Days designed to be spent inside with the curtains drawn tight and a hot water bottle tucked in the bedclothes. Hermann in particular has plenty reason to do so; the constant dull twinge of pain in his left leg builds to a roaring throb when it rains, and the bought of pneumonia he’s only just managed to shake has left him wary of stepping beyond his front stoop in anything less than sunshine. It’s not as if he has any pressing work waiting for him at the laboratory. Newton, he’s sure, can manage a single day without him.

At half past eleven, Hermann is roused by the distant thud of the heavy wooden door knocker downstairs. Thirty-five minutes past eleven, there is a lighter knock at his bedchamber door. “Dr. Gottlieb?” their footman calls. “You have a caller.”

Damn. Hermann groans into his pillow. “Thank you,” he calls back. “I won’t be a moment.” 

It takes Hermann a bit more than a moment--his bed is very warm. At risk of making whoever is calling wait longer, he merely ends up belting his dressing gown over his nightshirt and trading his long socks for his house slippers to go down. He regrets it the moment he pushes the parlor door open.

It is Newton; of course it is Newton. “Hermann!” he exclaims, and rises from his stool at once as Hermann stumbles back against the doorframe in embarrassed surprise. He’s in his dressing gown, by Jove. “You’re alright. Why didn’t you come to the lab? I was so worried.”

“I was feeling a bit under the weather,” Hermann says weakly. He draws his robe tighter round himself as Newton struts forward, practically overdressed in comparison, even with his sleeves pushed up (garish tattoos revealed), his glasses smudged, his perpetually untidy hair even untidier than usual. “Goodness, Newton, if I’d known it was you--I’m not decent.”

“And yet you were completely willing to entertain anyone else in your nightclothes,” Newton says, grinning. He clasps Hermann’s hand. “Am I really that different, my friend?”

Hermann colors; desperate to avoid the question, he clears his throat and poses one of his own. “Why are you here?”

“I told you,” Newton says. “You didn’t show up at the lab. I was worried, so I decided I’d check up on you. I thought--” His voice falters a moment. “I thought your illness may have returned.”

Hermann has not been alone with Newton since his illness. (In their laboratory, they are under the constant watchful eyes of their fellow researchers, their hired hands, and on the occasions they dine out together for supper or take a walk, at least a dozen other like-minded individuals. Here, it is almost always under Hermann’s father’s eye, who finds a way to situate himself into the corner of whatever room they’ve occupied without fail. Their stolen moments of privacy are rare and brief--nothing at all conducive for the long talks Hermann yearns for.) The details of that last occasion do not escape Hermann now: Newton’s tears, the way he’d flung himself at Hermann’s side, sponged Hermann’s brow and forced food and water down his throat, held Hermann throughout each night, each bought of wracking shivers, and not left his side until it’d all passed.

The tenderness with which he did it all, palpable to Hermann even through the haze of fever. “It has not,” Hermann assures him; Newton visibly relaxes, “but I am terribly glad you’ve come. Will you take tea with me?”

“I should be getting back to the lab,” Newton admits. “They don’t even know I’ve left.”

“Tea,” Hermann says again. “We can talk.” Then, pointedly, “Father is out.”

“Oh,” Newton says. “Oh.”

Hermann shows him to his private study further down the hall and--never quite at ease with his father’s over-reliance on the household staff, and quite at ease with balancing objects on one hand--fetches them the tea tray himself. Newton has already made himself comfortable on Hermann’s small chaise when he returns, waistcoat and boots flung across the room, and he’s evidently drawn the curtains and stoked the fire back to life. It crackles merrily in the corner fireplace and bathes Newton in a warm orange glow. “Cake, too?” he says when Hermann sets the tray down in front of him. “You’re a godsend.”

Hermann unbelts his gown and graces him with a small smile. “Uneaten from a luncheon my sister hosted,” he says. “I know you’re fond of them.”

Newton shoves two in his mouth; he washes them down with a swiftly-poured, and clearly scalding, cup of tea, wincing all the while. “I am,” he says. “Take a seat, will you. Do you want sugar today?”

There is a smudge of pink frosting at the corner of Newton’s mouth. Crumbs on his shirt. “Not today,” Hermann says. He settles his cane against the side of the chaise, and then settles himself in next to Newton. Newton slides him his tea. “Thank you.”

Newton makes himself even more comfortable once he finishes off the last of his cup, lowering his head to the chaise cushion to rest inches from Hermann’s knee, hands settled in his lap, legs stretched out to dangle over the opposite end. Not touching--never touching. He has a lazy smile fixed on his face as he gazes up at Hermann. Throat bared. (The picture of hedonism, Hermann cannot help but think. He is gorgeous.) “What did you want to talk about?” Newton says, after some minutes of pleasant silence pass.

“Hm?” Hermann says. He’d like to push the soft brown hair (slightly damp from the rain) from Newton’s face. Pull off his thick glasses. Run his fingers over the rough stubble of his cheeks, drag them down to his mouth--his pink mouth-- “Oh,” he says. “I wanted to thank you. I realized I never properly did so.”

“You’ve thanked me plenty,” Newton says dismissively. “We’re friends. Friends do these sorts of things for each other.”

“You put yourself at great risk for me,” Hermann says. Unable to help himself, strokes back a few strands of that soft hair: Newton does not push him away, but leans into the touch.

“That feels good,” he says. “You’d’ve done the same.”

“I would’ve,” Hermann agrees, too earnest, not caring that he is playing the cards that should be kept to his chest much too fast, much too soon. “In a heartbeat, Newton. I...” He swallows around a sudden lump in his throat, around the unintentional confession that threatens to spill out. He’s certain Newton knows it anyway. (Hermann is not subtle in his stolen touches and glances.)

Newton’s smile flickers, but does not fade. Something curious passes behind his eyes--understanding, perhaps. “Hermann,” he says. His pink tongue swipes across his pink lips. “You,” he tries again. Words seem to fail him; he reaches for the hand Hermann’s pressed to his hair and begins to drag it, slowly, assuredly, to that pink mouth. Hermann does not move.

There is a small flurry of noise far down the hallway: the front door opening. “Hermann?”

“Damn,” Hermann hisses. It’s his father. Newton drops his hand and leaps to his feet.

“My boots,” he says, “where are my damn--fuck--”

He stumbles to the corner and shoves his stocking’d feet back into his dirty boots, pulls his waistcoast back on, rights his shirt, hastily buttons up both. His face is flushed a deep red and creased with guilt. Hermann imagines his own is in a similar state. (They have nothing to be guilty for, he reminds himself. Nothing happened. Nothing at all.) “In here,” he calls, dazedly.

Newton arranges himself at the fireplace mantle and adopts a look of cool boredom just in time for Hermann’s father to swing the study door open. He is stone-faced and stern as usual, even more so as he glances between them--lingering particularly over Hermann, his dressing gown, his dishevelment, the visible blush from Newton’s touch. “I was informed you were absent from your laboratory today,” he says. “You and Dr. Geiszler.”

Rain flecks the shoulders of his overcoat, which he’s not even bothered to take off: he’s clearly stormed home from his own office as fast as he could. “I woke up feeling rather, ah, under the weather,” Hermann stammers, “so I stayed in. Dr. Geiszler merely wanted to ensure it was nothing serious. He was worried, you see, considering my recent illness.”

“I’m certain,” Father says. He does not nod when he greets Newton, if Hermann can even call it a greeting: narrowed eyes, and an unimpressed “Dr. Geiszler.”

“Dr. Gottlieb,” Newton says, and, to Hermann’s equal part amusement and horror, gives an obnoxious bow. “Sir.”

Father’s lips curl down. “Get dressed,” he snaps at Hermann. Then, turning back to Newton, “As you can see, Dr. Geiszler, my son is far from death’s door, so your concern is misplaced. You’re welcome to leave. You must have plenty of work of your own to see to.”

“No!” Hermann says (hardly believing his own daring--contradicting his father is something he does not do--and ignoring Newton’s tiny smile of pride across the room.) He pushes himself to his feet unsteadily. “No, I would prefer Ne--Dr. Geiszler stay.”

“It’s fine, Hermann,” Newton says, emphasizing ‘Hermann’ too-loudly. Newton has never cared to use Hermann’s title in lieu of his first name, and he’s certainly not going to pretend to now. “I’ll go. Rest up. We have our dinner engagement tomorrow, after all, and if you skip out on me I’ll be furious.”

They have no dinner engagement. Or--had no engagement. Hermann is more than happy to treat this as the invitation Newton obviously intends. “Of course,” Hermann says. “Tomorrow.”

He extends a trembling hand in Newton’s direction; Newton steps forward and takes it in a mere companionable handshake, yet Hermann cannot help but feel the ghost of the far more intimate one they left unfinished. Behind them, Hermann’s father sweeps from the study to undoubtedly wait pointedly in the foyer for Newton. Then Newton ducks closer. “Come to my rooms tomorrow,” he breathes, so quiet Hermann can scarcely hear. “We’ll say we decided to take a long dinner.”

“A long...?”

Newton lifts Hermann’s hand up--a mirror of earlier--and brushes his lips over the knuckles so gently, so reverently, that the air leaves Hermann’s lungs. It falls limply to his side when Newton releases it. He feels dizzy. “Tomorrow, Hermann,” Newton says.

“Tomorrow,” Hermann echoes faintly.

He sits by the parlor windows and watches Newton scurry off down the street until he’s a mere speck in the rain, and, unable to quell his smile, the small bloom of joy in his chest, touches his knuckles to his own mouth.