#mars writes stuff

[evelineastrology]

Mars conjunct Lilith synastry.

This is intense, very intense actually as soon as you met you had an instant sexual attraction to each other, something couldn't keep their eyes off each other, once you come into contact with this person much more comes into play, this can lead to obsession with each other. Once this obsession is created, intense jealousy and possesiveness appears. You just want to be with that person, this can cause a lot of intense emotions and a lot of jealousy that ends up in trying to make the other person jealous as well, which starts a fire burning. Because both are obsessed with each other.

+ As soon as someone takes their attention away from that person, the other person becomes jealous, which leads to aggression. Whether they know it or not, they have addictive sexual thoughts about each other. they both feel attracted to each other's mystery and occult knowledge. The mystery can lead to misunderstandings, for example thinking that they are playing with each other's feelings while they cannot live without each other. Once they are in a relationship you will notice that they start touching each other a lot in public, maybe even in places you wouldn't expect it, they are very open to taboo and are absolutely not ashamed of it. These would together border on and the thriller of life.

[lastknownstatus-alive]

whatever, idc anymore - woe, dragons be upon ye

bonus:

[aelirus]

i cant stop myself from making jupiter a fuckin adonis whenever i draw her

anyway, the commanders and their glorious leader.

[xo-myloves]

༞༞༞༞༞༞𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃𝚂༞༞༞༞༞

𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗!!

𝚃𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚜: 𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚛***, 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝... 𝙾𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝙶𝚄𝙽𝚂 '𝙽' 𝚁𝙾𝚂𝙴𝚂 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁-𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

𝙼𝙾̈𝚃𝙻𝙴𝚈 𝙲𝚁𝚄̈𝙴 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁-𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

𝙼𝙸𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙻𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙴𝙾𝚄𝚂 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁-𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛!!

𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚢

𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚢 𝚜𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚜

[mossy-paws]

Lightblox (PHIGHTING!)

“And I’m floating in a most peculiar way, And the stars look very different today.”

alt versions:

[graveltrapping]

Debutant | doe eyes

Female Marc Marquez snippet

Next

The first thing Dani Pedrosa thought after meeting Mar Marquez was that she looked rather fawn like.

Dainty and small (though still taller than himself), the tiniest dappling of freckles across delicate cheekbones, all pulled together by a pair of big glassy black eyes and even darker lashes. Long and curling, they brushed her cheeks with each blink. The team kit Honda had given her was ill fitted and seemed to swallow her whole, arms and shoulders gaping around her, while the soft high collar of the fleeces she seemed to love cradled her smiling face. She looked soft. Wide eyed, curios, but bafflingly confident in a slightly disarming way that had Dani a little off balance.

Jorge could see the resemblance.

He could see the softness that she still carried, baby fat still making her cheeks rounded and plush. Pillowy lips and fluffy hair curling around ears that stuck out in an almost childish way she didn’t seem to grow out of. Her helmet hair, spilling out of the short little braids in crazy tight ringlets that stood in every direction, seemed to shave even more years off of her already young age. Those big doe eyes.

Dani had left the comparison slip once, the words tumbling past his lips after a few too many drinks as he recounted their first test rides on the bike, but Jorge couldn’t help but think she was really more like a wolf. Maybe it was her smile, all perfect and sharp teeth, so many exposed as she laughed loudly and showed off those disarming dimples, maybe it was how dark her eyes were, such a rich brown it would be easier to call them black. Maybe it was how all she seemed to do was hunt. On track, off track, those dark eyes following and watching and learning. 

So pretty but intense and unnerving in a way that had Jorge feeling almost small.

Eclipsed, maybe.

Valentino, it was hard to imagine what he thought of Mar.

Rossi seemed to think something similar to him but there was a disarming softness to the looks he gave the young woman that made Jorge think that just maybe he was fooled by the baby deer look she had to her, fooled like many others through the feeder series. The older man, a nine times champion, had clocked something in the rookie that was almost parallel to himself. It drew him in a little, maybe blinded him for a second, but Qatar had certainly been an awakening. Sudden, aggressive, unyielding, she had passed Valentino Rossi again and again and again. He had responded in kind but had just barely held on to second place by the skin of his teeth. She had been right behind him, barely meters between their bikes as she sped up the start finish straight hunched down in the seat, fighting to the last millisecond. 

So small, leathers deigned to blend with the bike, it had been hard to tell where she ended and machine began.

She was off like a shot though as soon as they were in parc ferme, a blur of white and orange, unmissable in the see of Yamahas royal blue. Even as he celebrated his own win standing tall on the bike, he could see her pressed against the barriers and held up by her team just enough her feet dangled a few inches off of the ground. Yamaha staff mingled with the Honda, all wanting to congratulate the bombshell rookie, and he could even see Uccio land a few solid slaps on her back. He had lost sight of her after that. Descended into the throws of his team to celebrate his first win of the season, Valentinos team mingling and melding with his own to make an even bigger crowd while photographers and reports swelled closer like a wave ready to brake on the barriers.

He doesn’t see her again until Rossi is on her, dragging her in for a congratulatory hug and slap on the back that have her glasses tumbling off and her smile widening even further, all dimples and sharp teeth. First race in the premier class and she had almost beat the most successful rider on track. She looked proud of herself, electrified, but somehow not at all surprised. Like she thought she could beat him. She probably could.

Jorge watched out of the corner of his eye for a second, half focused on the interview in front of him, as Valentino slapped his hand against the rookies shoulder and said something that made her laugh loudly, hands fluttering around fixing her sunglasses in a way that betrayed her nerves. Her head bobbed, short black curls spilling out from under her red cap, before she was cut from sight by a man ushering her towards the podium stairs. Rossi gravitated towards his section of the barriers a second later and clapped him on the back with a much more casual smile.

“She’s good” Was the first thing Jorge said to him.

“She’s was coming to take me, no?” Valentino laughed.

He barley had time to nod before the same man was ushering both him and his teammate towards the cooldown room that was long and narrow, walls all beige and bare making all three riders look like obnoxious walking pain blotches that were completely unmissable. They were impossible to miss anyway, room packed tight with riders and presenters and media staff hauling cameras and microphones looming just outside blocking the way out and boxing them in. Elbows clashed, everyone packed tight, and Jorge watched as Valentino squeezed past Mar to grab his bottle. His hand slid just over her ribs as he manoeuvred her just a tiny bit to the side, the young spaniard easy under his hands, before slipping back into place near the door and saying something to her that her laughing one again. Even with the Italian half leant on the table she had to look up at him, head tilted back, laughing all open mouthed and dimpled. she looked deceptively soft. 

The comparison Dani made came back to mind.

Valentinos thoughts hadn’t seemed to change though, still looking at her like he knew her, like he recognised something in her that could be great in the future, like maybe this was a fluke or rookie luck to get so close so fast. Jorge however could see it. That impatience that was already winding its way into her bones, searing into her skin. Standing there beside the champion, she looked more like the race winner with how she held herself. She had gotten close. So close. She wasn’t going to wait for anything, certainly wasn’t going to be refined or helped along, no, she’d prefer to just take it. She’d take Valentino next time round. She looked like she wanted too. Always there, so incredibly ready to just throw herself into corner after corner, melding herself to the machine on the straights. Even after they crossed the line, her stare had been dissecting. Always flickering back to Valentino the moment he looked away from her.

Jorge could feel that stare on him now.

Stood on the top stop, it was almost burning, but he pushed it to the side. She wanted exactly what he had and he knew it. After all, she was two down and he was up top, first win of the season and taken by a considerable margin. She should probably try to be content that she was even on the podium on her debut race, her driving wild enough to take both herself and Rossi out if not careful, the track punishing and cruel on tires and riders. Who was he to really care though. His title fight had the perfect start.

No Champagne today, but the victory still tasted so sweet.

[more-better-words]

Day 11!

100% the Utopia Colony of Home Away From Home and Seeing Blue. 😄 I'd love to hang out at Fat Mo's, and go to the Grace Note and see Demeter Circle. I think I'd really like it there.

[faggotwalkwithme]

hiiii guys i just made a characterhub (im realy nervous) But if any of you wanna follow me umm here :3

i haven't made any of my characters public yet but i will soon. yay

[120krrnie]

old ass solarbox mars headcanons post

go read if you want but most of these are proven wrong, impossible so yeah

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beats

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effects

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i don't know how this mod took me over

[whatlurksbelow]

walks up to mic in front of empty auditorium. Lettin it be known here that if anyone whos following peachy story wants to know more stuff abt mars and more specifically his past, i AM in fact writing a story (probs would post in chapters) abt him getting out of the wetlands + his shared splat2 mission w shelle

[evelineastrology]

Scorpio Mars guys are intense.

guys i have a crush on scorpio mars, and he has a crush on me too but it's super intense. He's very possesive, we're not even in a relationship and it seems like he's obsessed with me, and when he's jealous he really starts to sting me. Like making me jealous with another girl, and as soon as another guy starts talking to me and i start to respond back. He becomes passive aggressive towards that guy.

He really hates this one boy I'm friends (not even really just talking) with.

He follows me all the time, if I'm somewhere he comes too, for example in this group when I'm in the kitchen he comes too.

He always walks next to me, and today he even walked into me and then slowly walked into me, or sit opposite me.

he touches my stuff, and he really has this stalker stare.

his eyes are watching me all the time. But when he is jealous he act like he doesn’t see me, or avoids eye contact and doesn’t try to look at me.

If I show someone something on my phone, he is trying to peek?

there was even a new guy and he started flirting with me and wanted to buy me a drink, the chaperone said "you guys are a good match" and he got so jealous that he literally told that guy something behind my back. Because the next day when I was alone and his friends came with him and the guy who was flirting with me and then the same guy asked "but is there something between you two?"

And he said “no”

And then he was like “huh but you..? oh ok”

Anyone have an experience with a Scorpio Mars? please write in the comments! how did the behave?

[feeisamarshmallow]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Veronica Mars - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Valentina Navarro/Original Female Character, Eli "Weevil" Navarro & Valentina Navarro Characters: Valentina Navarro, Original Female Character(s), Eli "Weevil" Navarro, Jade Navarro Additional Tags: Character Study, Coming Out, Bisexuality, Parent-Child Relationship, Set in the present day-ish/near future Series: Part 2 of Maybe

Summary: Valentina is putting off coming out. Every week, she tells Alana she’s going to tell her parents, and then every week comes and goes, and she sits across the dinner table from her mom and stepdad, watching as they eat spoonfuls of yellow rice and chicken. And she opens her mouth, and instead tells them about AP English and orchestra practice.

[yume-fanfare]

i think if i were to study another degree (which i won't tbh) it'd be journalism

[kirstythejetblackgoldfish]

[spiral-lemur]

need more of whisper and cream’s dynamic…sighs, adds it to my list of stuff to write about eventually

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippet Thursday part 2: Blackmail Au

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In which Jak has to learn how to properly take care of curly hair

It turned out that the king of the Wastelanders was a little less intimidating when he was arguing with Sig. For all that he retained his commanding presence, with or without his armor, the low stakes of the disagreement seemed to soften him into something more human.

"I'm just going right back to the city again tomorrow!" Sig complained, "I'll do Wash Day when I get back."

"The rot you will," Damas retorted, pointing a comb menacingly at him, "We both know you'd rather shave your head than bother with Wash Day. Just get it over with and you won't have to deal with it for another two weeks."

"Come on, man!"

"You're setting a bad example for Jak," Damas said smugly.

Sig's nostrils flared. "Ohhh you rotsucker. That's not fair."

"I don't have to play fair on Wash Day."

Jak and Daxter watched the back and forth with growing amusement, especially when the indomitable Sig capitulated with some very creative expletives. Why was he making such a big deal out of washing his hair? Daxter washed twice a week if they could get the soap for it. Jak...didn't wash as much, but he tried to at least rinse off the sweat.

"It's just washing hair, how long could it take?" he snorted as Sig dragged out a low stool in front of the sink in the corner.

"An hour at least," Sig grumbled.

"An hour? For hair?" Jak sputtered, "Why would you spend that much time on it?!"

Sig looked at him. Damas looked at him. After a moment, Damas sighed.

"Well, that tracks."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

Damas reached up and fiddled with the crown piercings, sliding them out of tiny metal ports in his skull with a soft click one by one. He set them on the table and distractedly waved Jak over.

"Hair like ours requires more care than your friend there," he explained. "I somewhat doubt you like running around with your curls all knotted and broken together like that. Hasn't anyone ever showed you how to care for them?"

Daxter scoffed. "Self-care was never high on Samos's priority list of subjects to teach us."

Curious but cautious, Jak edged closer to the table to look at the jars Damas had set out. Oils, creams, some kind of soap. Were Damas and Sig really going to use all of these? He picked one up and examined it closely, smelling coconut.

"That's the last step," Sig said, plucking the jar from his hands unexpectedly.

Jak blinked. Without his hood and armor, Sig looked...weird. His hair was close-cropped, but not shaved; olive green coils somewhat smashed into the shape of his helmet. Daxter snickered from behind him.

"Hat hair!" he whispered.

Sig was not amused. He yanked open the first jar of oil and applied it liberally to his hair. "Just do as I do, cherry. No commentators from the peanut gallery."

Damas followed suit with an impish smile altogether out of place on his stoic face. "This is why I don't do helmets."

"Because your head is too fat for them?"

Damas paused in rubbing the oil into his locs to narrow his eyes at Sig. "I know how to override your door lock, you know."

"Oooh I'm so scared. Whatcha gonna do? Shampoo me to death?" Sig taunted.

"I could do that. Or I could add something to your ammunition pouch."

"Add what?"

"I'm not telling you."

"Add what, Daym?"

"You'll find out."

Jak raised an eyebrow at the two grown men behaving like, well, like him and Daxter. They seemed distracted, and he was curious, so after a moment he gave in and poured a handful of oil into his own hair. Presumably they'd wash it out next.

He was wrong.

Thirty minutes he had to sit with the oil soaking into his hair, bored out of his skull. No wonder Sig hated doing this! He couldn't even leave the room, because he didn't know where to find another sink! Equally bored, Daxter started rifling through Jak's jacket pockets until he came up with the bag of trail rations.

"Wanna play Kill-Grid?" he asked, holding up the bag, "Nuts versus beans?"

"We don't have a grid," Jak pointed out.

Sig leaned forward. "Kill-Grid? What's that?"

Jak shrugged. "It's a game we played a lot back in Sandover. You make a grid of sixteen squares. Twelve pieces on each side, the middle row stays empty."

Daxter opened the bag to see if there were enough nuts and beans to even play as he added, "It's...kinda like checkers. Except the board shrinks if a whole row gets cleared out."

"Yeah! If every piece in one row gets captured, you erase that row and make the grid even smaller. Whoever has the most pieces left when there aren't any more open spaces is the winner."

Just speaking about the game seemed to lift a weight from the boy. Damas saw life returning to his eyes, and he actually sounded like a fifteen year old ought to for a moment. Sorrow clawed at his guts like an animal trapped inside. This was his son, his firstborn, and a complete stranger. A young boy who seemed to only barely remember that he was meant to have a childhood. Who didn't even know basic self-care.

"Time's up," he said, gently interrupting the explanation, "Time to shampoo."

"Finally!" Sig huffed.

The chamber fell silent save for the sounds of water splashing and soap squishing into curls. Jak watched Sig with wide eyes, earnestly mimicking every step as best he could. Cross-legged on the rug, barefoot and barefaced, he looked...he looked like he belonged there. Like he always should have. Damas watched his lost-and-found child's face morph into surprise as he discovered how easily his fingers slipped through the tangles now. It wasn’t so very different from teaching Mar to wash his own hair. Just how neglected had Jak been? Damas couldn’t help wondering if Jak and Mar were on equal footing in their knowledge of how growing up was meant to be. It wasn't right for a boy to be so unused to kindness. It wasn't natural.

"Y'know," Daxter remarked, "I really didn't think your hair was that long?"

Jak shrugged helplessly and fumbled with slippery, wet hair, trying to put yet another round of oil into it. Before, it had brushed against his shoulder blades, bulked out with matts and snarls. Now it hung nearly to his waist, and he was getting tired of it sticking to his fingers.

"Ugh," he groaned after having to return to the oil jar yet again. "Sig, can I borrow your knife? I'm not doin' this."

Damas shot Sig a dirty look as the taller man snickered.

"What, ah, whatcha gonna do with it, cherry?"

Jak raised a brow. "Cut it??"

With some effort, he gathered up the thick hair into one fist and gestured to about three inches. "Look, that's gonna get tangled in my holster. I don't wanna deal with that."

"We have scissors, you know," Damas pointed out.

"Knife's faster."

Damas paused and blinked. Somehow, Jak had turned out more like Sig than Mar had, and Mar was the one who actually shared blood with him! As grateful as he was -- overwhelmingly, shatteringly relieved and grateful -- that of all the people to have taken Baby Heart under his wing, it was Sig, he could have done without Sig’s impatience for hair care being passed along.

Even so, there was no bite in his voice when he muttered to Sig, "He gets this from you, doesn't he?"

"I apologize for nothing," Sig joked.

He pulled his knife out and handed it over to Jak.

"Let Daxter do it, kiddo. He can see the parts you can't."

"Fair enough," Jak agreed easily.

"If I get buried in this stuff, I demand financial compensation," Daxter warned as he was passed the knife.

"That's going to bounce up shorter than you think, you know," Damas commented. "Especially with the extra weight taken off."

"Hey, as long as it's not in my face or wrapped around my gun, I don't give a crap," Jak answered. He leaned back on his palms to give Daxter better access to the long curls.

"What was I supposed to do after the second oil soak? Is that it?"

"You can stop there," Sig begrudgingly admitted, "But in your case it...probably would be better to do one last thing of cream, since you don't wear a helmet like me. It'll protect your hair later."

Jak made a face, and Sig didn't blame him. As a boy, Sig had never been the most patient individual. He'd learned plenty of patience over the years, but when he was off-duty? He couldn't help some of the old instincts to just get it done and over with.

It was a good thing his mama couldn't see him right now. She'd box his ears and hold his head in the sink to finish the Wash Day herself. Selda had never let him get away with neglecting himself. Sig supposed he would have to start channeling his mother to ensure that Jak didn't continue to neglect himself.

Daxter set down the knife and examined his handiwork critically.

"Mm...well, it ain't stylish, but you don't look like you let a blindfolded batfinch style your hair, at least."

Damas made a little harrumph in the corner as he wrapped up his own application of a heated oil.

"Oh. Right. I need to change the batfinches' water tonight."

"Come again?" Daxter asked.

Sig picked up a wide-toothed comb and shrugged. "Damas keeps an aviary. He's got- what are you up to now, seven different species in there?"

"Ten, actually," Damas corrected. "The tavus eggs finally hatched. I had to get a pair of rock hens in order to hatch them, though."

"Rock hens? From the mountains?" Daxter asked, wrinkling his nose, "What's a rock hen got to do with peafowl?"

Damas’s eyes lit up with the prospect of actually talking about his birds.

"Rock hens will brood over anything even vaguely egg shaped," he said.

With a click he began setting his crown piercings back into their ports, gesturing now and then as he did.

"The incubators were hatching the peafowl eggs, but without other galliformes, the tavus chicks weren't surviving."

"You got them foster-moms," Daxter guessed, "Right?"

"I did!" Damas smiled. "They're doing quite well, so far."

Daxter stretched up over Jak's shoulder with a serious look. "We're gonna go see those birds, right?"

"After the flut-flut thing?" Jak teased him.

"They're already hatched! I don't gotta worry about gettin' mistaken for anybody's Ma this time!" Daxter argued. "Besides, I'm only goin' for you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, mister "I'm just good with animals"!"

Jak wasn't sure yet. Going to this guy's aviary -- which he talked about with the same enthusiasm Jak used to feel about his bug collection -- felt like it would lead the man to start acting more buddy-buddy with him. Jak wasn't interested in that. He wanted his little brother back, and then maybe they could talk boundaries. But...there were baby animals. And...

He really liked baby animals.

They didn't shy away from him, even when he was in his dark form. If it weren't for animals like the city yakkows and the crocadog, Jak would probably have believed what everyone said about his dark side being some kind of mindless animal.

"Hhh. Okay. We can see the tavus chicks," he agreed, rolling his eyes.

Damas looked so pleased that whatever was left of his intimidating image dropped and shattered on the floor.

If he could find something in common with this boy -- something other than their mutual protectiveness over Mar; a boy his age had no business being made a parental figure to his sibling -- then perhaps they could start over on a better foundation than "I thought you were in danger so I had you kidnapped from Haven City". Even if that had definitely been the right call at the time.

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